Broadway Characters One Shots

philip hamilton-hamilton

all credit to this beautiful drawing is given to mARTaWIT on etsy! here is her link if you want to check it out: https://www.etsy.com/shop/mARTaWIT?ref=nla_listing_details

Philip Hamilton: June 15th of 1806

Why did women play hard to get?

I didn't quite understand it back then. Sure I was young, in my last year of school, but I thought at least the girls around King's College would be sensible.

They discussed amongst their friends how they longed for a suitor, but once a man introduced themselves, they ran away in hope of drawing their attention! It seemed pointless and retrogressive. It didn't make sense to me, especially when I met her.

She was surely the most beautiful girl in all of America. I never had experienced the whole butterflies in your stomach and bright blushing smiles with a girl. But with her? Well, something about her drew me in and wouldn't let go.

She seemed simple enough. I didn't know her name, nor her story, but all I knew is that she would settle on a park bench every afternoon...and draw.

I gazed at her from a distance, studying as her daily view of the park came to life on a plain page of her journal. It truly amazed me. Though I couldn't study her drawings up close, I could tell by her satisfied smile that they were as beautiful as she was.

Maybe it's because she put so much heart into her art, maybe it's because she seemed one with the world around her, that I'm not sure.

I don't know what it was, but my heart wouldn't let go.

Philip Hamilton: March 10th of 1801

Writing, reading, studying, and more writing. Though college has fulfilled my high hopes and more regarding education, I'm still working ruthlessly even weeks before graduation. I have to fill out a daily journal entry for my Psychology class, and then evaluate how my moods affected my day to day life. It sounds boring, but it isn't that bad. I usually sit down at my favorite part of Woodland Park, look around and study the area for inspiration, and write until my fingers numb.

But ever since I came to the park a couple weeks ago, something seemed different. A new energy filled the spring air, a lively, golden energy that wouldn't go away until I left the park. I didn't know what it was at first, but I was determined to figure it out.

As the days pass into today, I continue my routine to settle into the simple wooden bench, open my journal filled with inked-smudged parchment, and get to work for my Psych class. But then the feeling comes back, only I feel as if I was being watched. The paranoia sending chills down my spine, seeming as if eyes were watching me intently. Dread pits into my stomach as my mind continues to wonder.

I hope this isn't another enemy. I have my own troubles to worry about, much less my parents downhill marriage or strangers' political queries.

I glance around me into the open space of the park. Only a few people are scattered in the hills or strolling down the gravel paths. The sun shines down on the warm earth of the park, and sweet flowers blossom on all the trees.

As I scan the various magnolia trees that I've noticed, I finally see her.

A young woman sits comfortably on a bench not too far from me. Her body is bathed in golden sunlight, illuminating her charming champagne-colored dress. Her hair flows elegantly down her shoulders, but is tied back for the skill she's performing.

On her lap is a simple black book, with one shading pencil moving ardently on the page. Her stare is stuck on the page, focused and fervent. I can't take my gaze off of her, even when she looks up at me, and we immediately lock eyes.