Open Mic Night
Zane felt his nerves rising. "What should I sing?"
"Whatever feels right," Terry said, leaning back in his chair. "Just go with it."
Zane hesitated, his mind racing through the myriad of songs that had flooded his thoughts earlier. One song stood out, the one he had been humming before. He closed his eyes, letting the melody take shape in his mind, and took a deep breath.
He began to sing, his voice soft at first but growing stronger with each word:
"She's out of my life
She's out of my life
And I don't know whether to laugh or cry
I don't know whether to live or die
And it cuts like a knife
She's out of my life"
Zane could feel the power of the song coursing through him, each note resonating with an intensity he had never experienced before. As he reached for the higher notes, he tried to channel the smooth, emotive style of The Weeknd, and was amazed at how effortlessly he could hit them.
The room around him faded away, leaving only the music and the depth of his voice, the strength and clarity of his voice surprising even himself.
As the final note hung in the air, Zane opened his eyes, his breath coming in quick, exhilarated bursts.
Terry sat in his chair, his mouth slightly open, eyes wide with astonishment. He stared at Zane as if seeing him for the first time.
"Bro," Terry finally said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "That was… incredible. I mean, I knew you were serious, but damn. That was something else."
Zane felt a rush of pride and relief, a weight lifting off his shoulders. "You think it was good?"
"Good?" Terry shook his head, a grin spreading across his face. "Man, that was more than good. You've got something special. We need to get this recorded, no lie. People need to hear this."
Zane started smiling, feeling the excitement bubbling up inside him. "Alright, play another beat. Something more trumpet-ish."
Terry's eyes lit up. "I've got just the thing." He scrolled through his laptop, selecting a lively, upbeat instrumental track. The sound of trumpets and a catchy rhythm filled the room, and Zane's body began to move instinctively to the beat.
Without hesitation, Zane started singing.
"Keep on with the force, don't stop
Don't stop 'til you get enough
Keep on with the force, don't stop
Don't stop 'til you get enough..."
His voice was smooth and confident, the lyrics flowing effortlessly. The energy of the song filled the room, and Zane couldn't help but start dancing, his movements fluid and precise. He felt every beat, every note, his body swaying and spinning in perfect harmony with the music.
Terry watched in amazement, his own body starting to move to rhythm. "Damn, Zane, you've got moves too!" he shouted, grinning from ear to ear.
Zane laughed, continuing to sing and dance.
"Lovely is the feeling now
I won't be complaining
The force is love-power
Keep on with the force, don't stop
Don't stop 'til you get enough..."
Terry, caught up in the excitement, attempted a spin but tripped over a pile of clothes, landing with a thud. Zane burst out laughing, Terry joined in, getting back up and trying again, determined to match Zane's smooth moves.
The two friends danced and sang, the room coming alive with their energy. Zane felt a sense of freedom and joy he hadn't experienced in years. He spun around, his feet gliding across the floor, and caught sight of his reflection in the cracked mirror. The young man staring back at him was full of life, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Don't stop 'til you get enough..."
As the song reached its climax, they were both laughing and out of breath, the exhilaration of the moment washing over them. They collapsed onto the bed, still chuckling and catching their breath.
Suddenly, the door to Terry's room burst open, and Terry's mother stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips. "Whose beautiful voice is this I'm hearing?" she demanded.
Terry, still breathless, pointed at Zane. "It's him, Ma. Can you believe it?"
She looked at Zane with wide eyes, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Zane, honey, that was amazing! You've got a gift, child."
Terry's mother left the room with a final, approving nod, and Zane and Terry exchanged wide-eyed looks of excitement.
"For real, man," Terry said, still breathless. "We need to get this recorded properly or at least get people to hear you."
Zane nodded. "Yeah, but where are we going to get the money for a studio session?"
Terry's face lit up with an idea. "Bro, we'll use that voice! We can perform at an open mic or something and get people to donate."
Zane considered it, but his practical side kicked in. "That would take too long. We need something faster."
Terry frowned, thinking hard. "What if I ask my cousin? He'll definely let you use his studio down here, but then again, he's been really busy lately."
Zane sighed, the excitement fading slightly. "Damn. So what do we do?"
Terry's face brightened again. "Let's start with the open mic thing. We can get some exposure and maybe find someone who can help us out." He grabbed his laptop and started typing furiously. "Let's see what we can find."
Zane watched as Terry scrolled through listings for open mic nights in their area. "Here we go," Terry said, pointing at the screen. "There's one at this coffee shop downtown tomorrow night. We could totally do that."
<>
The next day, Zane and Terry prepared for the open mic night. As the evening approached, they made their way to the coffee shop, a cozy place with dim lighting and a small stage set up in one corner.
When they stepped into the coffee shop, the atmosphere was buzzing with energy. People chatted, laughed, and sipped on their drinks while performers tuned their instruments. Zane and Terry signed up and took a seat near the stage, trying to calm their nerves.
As they waited, Zane watched the performers ahead of them. Most of them were regulars, their voices solid but not extraordinary. Zane felt his anxiety building with each act.
"Bro, you're gonna wipe these guys out of the park," Terry whispered, nudging him. "Just remember the vibe. It's late night, a lot of people are on dates."
Zane nodded, recalling a song that fit the mood perfectly. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.
Finally, it was Zane's turn. He stood up, his legs feeling like jelly, and made his way to the stage. The spotlight felt glaring and the faces in the crowd seemed to blur together. He could feel their eyes on him, waiting.
Zane took the microphone, his mouth suddenly dry. He glanced at Terry, who gave him a reassuring nod. Zane coughed, the sound echoing slightly in the microphone, and felt a wave of nerves. But then he closed his eyes, letting the music take over.
(The Weeknd's "Earned It")
"You make it look like it's magic, oh yeah
'Cause I see nobody, nobody but you, you, you
I'm never confused
Hey, hey..."
At first, his voice was hesitant, but as he continued, he found his rhythm. The smooth, emotive style of The Weeknd flowed through him, each note carrying the depth of his feelings. He could sense the room quieting, the chatter fading as people turned their full attention to him.
"So I love when you call unexpected
'Cause I hate when the moment's expected
So I'ma care for you, you, you
I'ma care for you, you, you, you, yeah..."
As he reached the chorus, his confidence surged. He opened his eyes, meeting the gaze of the audience. The nerves melted away, replaced by the sheer joy of performing. He could see people swaying to the music, their expressions entranced.
"'Cause girl, you're perfect
You're always worth it
And you deserve it
The way you work it
'Cause girl, you earned it, yeah
Girl, you earned it, yeah..."
As Zane sang, he closed his eyes, letting the music carry him. He felt the energy of the room shift, a collective sway as people became absorbed in the song. Phones were raised, recording his performance, capturing the moment.
Zane hit a high note, his voice soaring effortlessly. A ripple of awe spread through the audience, and he could hear murmurs of appreciation, a few audible "ooo" reactions adding to his growing confidence.
"On that lonely night
You said it wouldn't be love
But we felt the rush
It made us believe it there was only us
Convinced we were broken inside, inside..."
He continued, each word infused with emotion, each note resonating deeply. The crowd was mesmerized, swaying to the rhythm, their eyes fixed on him.
"'Cause girl, you're perfect
You're always worth it
And you deserve it
The way you work it
'Cause girl, you earned it, yeah
Girl, you earned it, yeah..."
As he reached the final chorus, Zane pushed himself further, hitting the high notes with a strength and clarity that sent chills through the audience. The reaction was immediate, a wave of admiration washing over him.
When the last note faded, the room erupted into applause. People cheered, whistled, and clapped, their enthusiasm filling the space.
"Another one!" someone shouted from the back, and the call was quickly echoed by others.
Zane looked over at Terry, who gave him an encouraging nod. He thought quickly, searching his mental playlist for a song that would keep the momentum going. One song came to mind, another hit by The Weeknd that he loved.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped back up to the microphone and began to sing "Coming Down."
"I got something to tell you but don't know how I'ma say it
I guess that I could only say one thing
Girl, I've been bad again
Girl, I've been bad again
'Cause with this money comes problems
And with these problems comes solutions
And I use them when I'm faded
I forget, forget what you mean to me
Hope you know what you mean to me"
His voice was smooth and soulful, each word carrying a raw, emotional weight. The crowd quieted down, listening intently, the atmosphere shifting to something more intimate and reflective.
"But I'mma need you to say something, say something, say something
I'mma need you to say something, say something, say something
I've been up for four nights
Just tryna make this thing right
I gotta real good feelin'
That tonight I'mma be feelin'
Like I'm doing everything right
Ain't no need for change, girl
Ain't no need for change, girl"
As he continued, Zane could see people swaying gently, their eyes closed, lost in the music.
"And I need you to know
I just need you to know
That I'mma need you to say something, say something, say something
I'mma need you to say something, say something, say something..."
As he sang the final lines, Zane felt a sense of calm and satisfaction wash over him. The last note lingered in the air, and for a moment, the room was completely silent. Then, the applause started, building into a loud, enthusiastic ovation.
Zane smiled, bowing slightly, overwhelmed by the response. As he stepped off the stage, Terry was waiting, a wide grin on his face.
"Dawg, you are insane!" Terry exclaimed, wrapping an arm around Zane's shoulders.
Zane laughed, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. They made their way out of the coffee shop, the cool night air hitting them as they stepped outside.
"That was amazing," Zane said, still buzzing from the performance.
Terry laughed too, shaking his head. "But we didn't collect any money!"
They both burst out laughing, realizing that in their excitement, they had forgotten the whole reason they had performed in the first place.
"We did all that for nothing," Zane said, still chuckling.
erry shook his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Well, maybe not for nothing. How about we just upload a raw version of it on SoundCloud or YouTube? There's no way we're getting money anytime soon, but at least people can hear you."
Zane considered it, nodding slowly. "Yeah, that could work. We could get some feedback and see if people like it. Let's do it."
They walked back to Terry's house, discussing their plan. Once inside, they headed straight to Terry's room, where Terry pulled out his laptop and set it on the cluttered desk.
"Alright," Terry said, opening a recording software. "Let's get this done."
Zane took a seat in front of the microphone, his nerves settling as he prepared to record. He sang through "Earned It" and "Coming Down" again, feeling the same intensity and emotion as before. Terry worked the software, capturing the raw, unfiltered performance.
"Okay," Terry said after they finished. "Let's upload these to SoundCloud and YouTube. We'll see what happens."
They spent the next hour setting up accounts, editing video titles, and writing descriptions. When they finally hit the upload button, Zane leaned back, feeling a mix of excitement and uncertainty.
"So, what's next?" Zane asked, looking at Terry.
Terry shrugged. "Maybe you could go on a talent show or something."
Zane's eyes widened at the idea. "Yeah, but America's Got Talent just ended. What other shows are out there?"
Terry pulled out his phone and started searching. "Well, there's The Voice. They have auditions coming up soon, and you could totally kill it there."
Zane nodded, intrigued. "That could work. What else?"
Terry continued scrolling. "There's also American Idol, but they're in the middle of their season. Maybe we can look into some local talent shows or competitions?"
"Yeah, that could be an option," Zane agreed. "We could also keep performing at open mics and hope someone notices us."
"Definitely," Terry said, his excitement growing. "And in the meantime, we keep pushing your stuff online. If your videos start getting attention, who knows what could happen?"
Zane felt a sense of hope. "Alright, let's do it. We'll keep grinding, and something will come through."
<>
The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the outdoor basketball court. The sound of sneakers squeaking on the pavement and the echo of the ball bouncing filled the air. Zane and Terry were locked in a heated one-on-one game.
"Come on, man," Terry teased, dribbling the ball with ease. "You can't handle this." He performed a quick crossover.
Zane grinned, keeping his eyes on the ball. "You talk a big game, but let's see you back it up." He moved with agility, matching Terry's steps and anticipating his moves.
Terry faked left, then spun right, driving towards the basket. Zane followed closely, but Terry managed to lay the ball up and it kissed the backboard before dropping through the hoop.
"That's two for me," Terry announced, jogging back with a satisfied grin.
Zane picked up the ball, dribbling it thoughtfully as he assessed Terry's defense. "Alright, my turn." He moved quickly, a series of quick, sharp dribbles before he feinted a drive. Terry bit on the fake, and Zane pulled back, launching a smooth jump shot. The ball arced through the air and swished cleanly through the net.
"Nice shot," Terry admitted, retrieving the ball. "But I'm still up by one."
They continued their game, their movements growing more intense with each play. Zane drove to the hoop, his quick layup narrowly avoiding Terry's outstretched hand. Terry countered with a slick spin move, banking the shot off the backboard.
As the game went on, they bantered back and forth. "You know," Zane said between breaths, "I was thinking about those songs we uploaded."
Terry, dribbling the ball and preparing for another play, glanced over. "Yeah? What about them?"
"We still don't have a single view on either of them," Zane said, a hint of disappointment in his voice.
Terry frowned, pausing to take a breather. "It's only been a day. These things take time."
"I know," Zane replied, catching his breath. "I just thought maybe someone would stumble across them by now."
Terry nodded, shooting the ball. It bounced off the rim, and Zane caught the rebound. "People have to see it, Zane. I could ask my mom if she could get my cousin to promote it."
Zane shook his head, dribbling slowly. "Nah, I don't want to bother people for favors. We can figure this out on our own."
Terry sighed, but a determined look crossed his face. "Alright, but we need a plan. We can't just hope people find it. We need to be proactive."
"Maybe we can perform at more open shows," Zane suggested. "Get out there, promote myself, and build a following."
Terry nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, that sounds good. We can start small, hit up local spots, and work our way up."
Just then, a group of older men walked onto the court. Terry's uncles had arrived for their regular evening game. "Alright, boys, time to let the big dogs play," one of them called out, waving them off the court.
Zane and Terry stepped off, grabbing their things and heading back towards Terry's house. As they walked, Terry said, "Man, I was thinking, what if we robbed someplace? Like, a small store or something?"
Zane stopped in his tracks, turning to face Terry with a serious expression. "Nah, let's not do that. We're not criminals."
Terry shrugged, looking frustrated. "Then how are we going to get the money? These studio sessions aren't cheap, and we need to make moves now."
Zane took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "Like you said, these things take time."
Terry nodded, heading inside the house. Zane lingered outside, the evening air cool against his skin. He leaned against the railing of the porch, staring out into the dimming sky. His mind wandered, swirling with confusion and frustration.
"What the hell is happening?" Zane muttered to himself. The reality of his situation weighed heavily on him. The fact that Prince, Michael Jackson, and The Weeknd didn't exist in this world still baffled him. He couldn't understand why he had been given their songs and abilities. It felt surreal, like he was living in a dream.
He closed his eyes, trying to make sense of it all. The melodies and lyrics of their songs played in his mind, each one a masterpiece that he somehow knew intimately. "Why me?" he wondered. "Why their songs? Why their talents?"
Opening his eyes, he sighed. "Well, I might as well make use of this." He decided to dive deeper into the gifts he had been given.
He searched through the music library, finding every song by Prince, Michael Jackson, and The Weeknd. He started with a Prince classic, "Purple Rain." As the song played, he closed his eyes and let the music wash over him. He felt a connection to it, as if he had written it himself. The emotional depth and raw power of the song resonated within him.
Next, he played Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean." The beat, the rhythm, the iconic bassline—all of it felt so familiar, like second nature. He stood up and began to move, mimicking the dance moves he had seen in the music video. His body flowed effortlessly, each movement precise and fluid. He spun, moonwalked, and hit every beat with perfect timing. It was as if Michael's talent had been ingrained in his very being.
Then he played The Weeknd's "Blinding Lights." He hit every note effortlessly, feeling the emotion behind the lyrics. It was like he was channeling The Weeknd's essence, his vocal prowess and unique style.
Zane paused, taking a moment to process everything. He realized that not only had he inherited their songs, but their abilities as well. He could sing, dance, and perform with the same skill and charisma as these legendary artists. It was a lot to take in, but he knew he had to make sense of it.
It hit him like a bolt of lightning: Michael Jackson, Prince, and The Weeknd. He knew The Weeknd wasn't quite on the same legendary level as MJ and Prince, but combining their talents was nothing short of a demonic trio. Every hit song, every signature dance move, every ounce of stage presence—they were all his to wield. Zane was sitting on a gold mine.
The realization dawned on him: he had the combination to create the biggest pop star in the world. He could blend the best of each artist, crafting a new, unstoppable persona. But then, a pang of guilt hit him. Was this stealing?
He shook his head, dispelling the thought. What harm could it do? They didn't exist here. This was a different reality, and their songs and abilities had no owners in this world. He wasn't taking anything from anyone.
He looked around the neighborhood, the familiar sights of the hood that had been both a comfort and a struggle his whole life. This was his big moment, his chance to be something big, to break free from the constraints of his upbringing. The weight of the decision settled in, but it didn't feel heavy. It felt right.
"Alright," he said to himself, a determined glint in his eye. "This is what I'm doing."
Zane stood on the porch, his mind racing with thoughts and possibilities. The weight of his newfound talents and the potential they held was both exhilarating and overwhelming.
He thought about his current circumstances, how he and Terry were struggling to get even a single view on their uploaded songs. Patience, he reminded himself. Success rarely happened overnight. He recalled stories of artists like Juice WRLD and XXXTentacion, who started by uploading their music to SoundCloud and eventually blew up. Maybe that could be his path too.
His thoughts drifted to other platforms like TikTok, wondering if he could leverage them to gain traction. But then, a sobering thought hit him: did he really want to dive headfirst into the music industry?
Zane had heard the stories, seen the scandals, and witnessed the way the industry could chew up and spit out even the most talented artists. The recent controversies surrounding Diddy came to mind, along with the parties and the web of celebrities closely associated with him. He thought about the accusations that had plagued Michael Jackson's career, and the public meltdowns of artists like Kanye West.
He realized that if he were to step into this world, he'd have to be mindful of every single thing he did from here on out. No controversial statements, no drugs, never accepting anything from anyone without scrutiny. The list in his head grew longer and longer.
As he continued to think it through, the reality of what he'd be facing began to sink in. Was this too much to handle? Would it be better to walk away from it all? Or maybe, he thought, he could take a middle ground - not dropping all the hits at once, but releasing decent songs and seeing where it led.
Zane sighed, running a hand through his hair. The decision felt too big, too consequential to make in one night. For now, he decided, he would go with the flow. He'd take it one step at a time, see how things developed, and adjust his course as needed.
"One day at a time," he murmured to himself, looking out at the darkening sky. Whatever path he chose, he knew it wouldn't be easy. But with the talents he now possessed, he had a chance to make something truly special. He just had to figure out how to do it on his own terms.
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
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