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Will you do it?
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| Yes | |
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Heir Transparent
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- Posted: Mon, 14 Sep 2009 08:51:55 +0000
I wrote this for a contest on deviantart, and it just so happens that your first cluster fits in perfectly with it. I hope you enjoy it. ^-^
Soliloquy of a Flower
Once upon a time, there was a forest. A vast and awe-inspiring view, I'm told. And in this forest, in the dead center, there was a tree.
Now, this was no ordinary tree, no. For you see, this tree was hundreds of years old. Its roots spread through the entire forest, branching off into different stems and trunks and stalks. This tree was the forest. And it listened, and watched its children grow from tiny, delicate saplings into grand and magnificent giants, with leaves twisting together to form canopy after canopy. And it has been said, that when the sunlight hit these fronded shaded groves, the entire forest lit up in a green, breathtaking, and glorious light.
One day, a weary traveller came upon this massive plantation, and took refuge from the cool rain underneath the tree's branches. He watched tiny chipmunks dart from grassy patches to take shelter inside the warmth of a bush. And in these bushes were birds' nests, with helpless and tiny baby birds awaiting their daily meals. He watched the mother birds fly from these bushes, soaring and spiraling into the branches and clouds above, and he watched the rain drizzle through the branches and make the chipmunks take shelter. All one big cycle. Everything connected in some way.
Unfortunately, this man saw no beauty in this, only an opportunity to turn his miserable and poor life around. This man, with only a few pennies to his name, went to a seedy pawn shop. And in this dark and dreary shop, he purchased an axe. You probably know what will happen next. Yes, the selfish man took this axe and went back to the forest. He picked the first tree he saw and started to hack, hack, hack away at it.
He did this for some time and realized that he was getting nowhere fast. He called his family, his friends and neighbors. These friends and family called their friends and family. And before the man knew it, there were contractors and big, rumbling, dirty machines. The man claimed the land as his own and sold part of it to the pompous management that dealt with these sorts of things. He watched as trees cracked and fell. He watched as terrified deer and birds fled in fright. He watched as nests crumbled under the fallen trees.
But the man was not the only one watching this. For you see, the wise tree in the center of this forest was watching as its children and grandchildren fell. It watched as its family perished, sap leaking out from their bark as blood would spill out from a dying human. And so the tree wept. For it knew it was helpless against the ugly machines and stoic workers. But the tree still stood tall, and as it wept, more children and family fell to their deaths.
Now, the man who brought all this upon the forest was absolutely ecstatic with his newfound riches and his vast plot of land. And so he moved to a big city somewhere, far away from the forest. He went to expensive shops. He purchased clothes to make him look important, furniture to clutter up his perfect new apartment, and various sundries that he did not need. He spent a lot of time in a particular shop. The very same shop that sold him his axe. As he browsed through the used and dusty old items, one caught his eye. A set of dishes, and as fate would have it, it was decorated elaborately with flowers and trees and other flora and fauna. The man was too distracted by the price tag to notice the blatant irony of this twist of fate. He picked up the expensive China, admiring the deep cracks. And so he bought the set, merely because it was expensive, exquisite, and would make him appear knowledgeable in the arts.
As he was walking back to his new apartment, the man ran into a woman pushing a flower cart. Quite literally, actually. She apologized profusely to the man, kept repeating that it was her fault, and quickly walked away with her cart, in tears. The man was slightly discombobulated by what had just happened. But what he did notice was that the woman was very pretty. So he ran to catch up with her, and made what he thought was a smooth and suave pickup line. But the woman, tears flowing down her face, merely set her jaw and kept walking. And so the man asked the woman what the matter was, showing true compassion for the first time in his life. Immediately, the woman began sobbing and explained that her favorite forest was being destroyed. She told the man that that forest is where she got all of her beautiful flowers to sell. She said that under the tree in the very center of the forest was where her adoptive parents found her as a baby, wrapped in a blanket and tucked into a basket.
The man soon put two and two together and realized that this woman was crying for the very same reason that he was rejoicing. All compassion suddenly left him, and told the weeping woman, "What a waste of beauty you are." I'm sure you're familiar with the saying, "If looks could kill". Well, if looks really could kill, this man would be dead faster than you could say... well, anything, really. She stormed off, pushing her flower cart, and leaving a trail of salty tears on the pavement.
The man felt that this was no loss. After all, there were plenty of far more beautiful women in the world that would appreciate his successes and wealth. But still, there was a certain beauty in the fierceness of her eyes, and the man could not shake it. But he blocked it out with thoughts of what more useless things he could buy with his money. He strutted into a fancy clothing store with designer labels and designer price tags. As he swiped his credit card at the checkout, the cashier looked puzzled and asked him to swipe it again. Three more times he tried this, but they were declined each time. The man realized that he was out of money. Panicked, he ran out of the store to call the contractors. They told him that they did not want any more of his land. He called other people, he called everyone he knew, but no one would touch the forest.
Laden with sadness and self-pity, he trudged back to his brand new apartment. It was bright in the apartment, the light reflecting off the whitewashed walls. As he stared into the light, it reminded him of the sun, which reminded him of plants and the forest. He closed his eyes and imagined the woman with the flowers, crying over what he had done.
And then, it hit him.
He knew what he had to do to make things right again.
He sprinted to the nearest florist shop and spent his last pennies on hundreds of packets of flower seeds and a few saplings. Driving back to the forest, he planted everything he had bought where the fallen trees had once stood. The last of his fortune, literally buried in the ground. Fall turned to winter, and the man built a roof to keep the snow off the little flowers. The snow soon melted, and the harsh, brutally cold air turned to a crisp and fresh breeze. The man watched over his garden like they were his own children, and the tree at the center of the forest watched too. And the tree stopped its weeping, and began to smile.
One day, the man returned to the forest to check on his garden's progress. And what he saw that day cannot be accurately described with words. Even photographs and drawings would do it no justice. What he saw were thousands and thousands of colors. Millions of giant petals, tiny leaves, long stems. These flowers which he had worked so hard to raise and protect, these flowers which gave this miserable man's life meaning and happiness, these flowers were his pride and joy. He carefully walked his way around the garden, careful not to step on anything, and he bent down and gently picked a single daisy. As as he twirled the flower in his hand, shimmering with morning dew, he closed his eyes and could not fathom how something so simple, so pure and clean and innocent, something so tiny, could bring him such joy. Behind him, he heard a rustle. He spun around and saw the woman from so many months ago. Smiling softly, the woman began to pick the flowers. Her eyes met his, and she mouthed the words, "thank you". And the tree whispered his thanks as well.
The man and the woman made regular visits to the forest to tend to the flowers and have picnics underneath the bright green canopies of leaves. Years came and went, and soon, and third person joined them. A small baby girl. Daisy was her name. Named after the first flower held by the man when his heart finally broke free of its shackles and chains, bonded to money and objects. Soon, an energetic puppy joined them under the branches of the ancient tree. And the tree kept smiling, as he watched seasons pass and the kind-hearted humans that took great joy in the forest. The tree watched as this family protected the forest when others wished to destroy it. And the tree watched as the cycle of his kingdom, his forest, began anew. Chipmunks to bushes, bushes to nests, nests to birds, birds to skies, skies to clouds, and clouds to rain. Rain to chipmunks.
And that, my friends, is the story of the wise old tree and the people whose lives he affected, just by existing. And remember this: you cannot change the past, just as you cannot bring fallen trees back to life. You cannot control the people around you, such as you cannot control the deaths of friends and loved ones. But what you can change is yourself. I am well aware that it is easier said than done, but changing yourself in order to change the future is possible. Shape your own future, and shape it into a future full of flowers, beauty, and love.
Now, this was no ordinary tree, no. For you see, this tree was hundreds of years old. Its roots spread through the entire forest, branching off into different stems and trunks and stalks. This tree was the forest. And it listened, and watched its children grow from tiny, delicate saplings into grand and magnificent giants, with leaves twisting together to form canopy after canopy. And it has been said, that when the sunlight hit these fronded shaded groves, the entire forest lit up in a green, breathtaking, and glorious light.
One day, a weary traveller came upon this massive plantation, and took refuge from the cool rain underneath the tree's branches. He watched tiny chipmunks dart from grassy patches to take shelter inside the warmth of a bush. And in these bushes were birds' nests, with helpless and tiny baby birds awaiting their daily meals. He watched the mother birds fly from these bushes, soaring and spiraling into the branches and clouds above, and he watched the rain drizzle through the branches and make the chipmunks take shelter. All one big cycle. Everything connected in some way.
Unfortunately, this man saw no beauty in this, only an opportunity to turn his miserable and poor life around. This man, with only a few pennies to his name, went to a seedy pawn shop. And in this dark and dreary shop, he purchased an axe. You probably know what will happen next. Yes, the selfish man took this axe and went back to the forest. He picked the first tree he saw and started to hack, hack, hack away at it.
He did this for some time and realized that he was getting nowhere fast. He called his family, his friends and neighbors. These friends and family called their friends and family. And before the man knew it, there were contractors and big, rumbling, dirty machines. The man claimed the land as his own and sold part of it to the pompous management that dealt with these sorts of things. He watched as trees cracked and fell. He watched as terrified deer and birds fled in fright. He watched as nests crumbled under the fallen trees.
But the man was not the only one watching this. For you see, the wise tree in the center of this forest was watching as its children and grandchildren fell. It watched as its family perished, sap leaking out from their bark as blood would spill out from a dying human. And so the tree wept. For it knew it was helpless against the ugly machines and stoic workers. But the tree still stood tall, and as it wept, more children and family fell to their deaths.
Now, the man who brought all this upon the forest was absolutely ecstatic with his newfound riches and his vast plot of land. And so he moved to a big city somewhere, far away from the forest. He went to expensive shops. He purchased clothes to make him look important, furniture to clutter up his perfect new apartment, and various sundries that he did not need. He spent a lot of time in a particular shop. The very same shop that sold him his axe. As he browsed through the used and dusty old items, one caught his eye. A set of dishes, and as fate would have it, it was decorated elaborately with flowers and trees and other flora and fauna. The man was too distracted by the price tag to notice the blatant irony of this twist of fate. He picked up the expensive China, admiring the deep cracks. And so he bought the set, merely because it was expensive, exquisite, and would make him appear knowledgeable in the arts.
As he was walking back to his new apartment, the man ran into a woman pushing a flower cart. Quite literally, actually. She apologized profusely to the man, kept repeating that it was her fault, and quickly walked away with her cart, in tears. The man was slightly discombobulated by what had just happened. But what he did notice was that the woman was very pretty. So he ran to catch up with her, and made what he thought was a smooth and suave pickup line. But the woman, tears flowing down her face, merely set her jaw and kept walking. And so the man asked the woman what the matter was, showing true compassion for the first time in his life. Immediately, the woman began sobbing and explained that her favorite forest was being destroyed. She told the man that that forest is where she got all of her beautiful flowers to sell. She said that under the tree in the very center of the forest was where her adoptive parents found her as a baby, wrapped in a blanket and tucked into a basket.
The man soon put two and two together and realized that this woman was crying for the very same reason that he was rejoicing. All compassion suddenly left him, and told the weeping woman, "What a waste of beauty you are." I'm sure you're familiar with the saying, "If looks could kill". Well, if looks really could kill, this man would be dead faster than you could say... well, anything, really. She stormed off, pushing her flower cart, and leaving a trail of salty tears on the pavement.
The man felt that this was no loss. After all, there were plenty of far more beautiful women in the world that would appreciate his successes and wealth. But still, there was a certain beauty in the fierceness of her eyes, and the man could not shake it. But he blocked it out with thoughts of what more useless things he could buy with his money. He strutted into a fancy clothing store with designer labels and designer price tags. As he swiped his credit card at the checkout, the cashier looked puzzled and asked him to swipe it again. Three more times he tried this, but they were declined each time. The man realized that he was out of money. Panicked, he ran out of the store to call the contractors. They told him that they did not want any more of his land. He called other people, he called everyone he knew, but no one would touch the forest.
Laden with sadness and self-pity, he trudged back to his brand new apartment. It was bright in the apartment, the light reflecting off the whitewashed walls. As he stared into the light, it reminded him of the sun, which reminded him of plants and the forest. He closed his eyes and imagined the woman with the flowers, crying over what he had done.
And then, it hit him.
He knew what he had to do to make things right again.
He sprinted to the nearest florist shop and spent his last pennies on hundreds of packets of flower seeds and a few saplings. Driving back to the forest, he planted everything he had bought where the fallen trees had once stood. The last of his fortune, literally buried in the ground. Fall turned to winter, and the man built a roof to keep the snow off the little flowers. The snow soon melted, and the harsh, brutally cold air turned to a crisp and fresh breeze. The man watched over his garden like they were his own children, and the tree at the center of the forest watched too. And the tree stopped its weeping, and began to smile.
One day, the man returned to the forest to check on his garden's progress. And what he saw that day cannot be accurately described with words. Even photographs and drawings would do it no justice. What he saw were thousands and thousands of colors. Millions of giant petals, tiny leaves, long stems. These flowers which he had worked so hard to raise and protect, these flowers which gave this miserable man's life meaning and happiness, these flowers were his pride and joy. He carefully walked his way around the garden, careful not to step on anything, and he bent down and gently picked a single daisy. As as he twirled the flower in his hand, shimmering with morning dew, he closed his eyes and could not fathom how something so simple, so pure and clean and innocent, something so tiny, could bring him such joy. Behind him, he heard a rustle. He spun around and saw the woman from so many months ago. Smiling softly, the woman began to pick the flowers. Her eyes met his, and she mouthed the words, "thank you". And the tree whispered his thanks as well.
The man and the woman made regular visits to the forest to tend to the flowers and have picnics underneath the bright green canopies of leaves. Years came and went, and soon, and third person joined them. A small baby girl. Daisy was her name. Named after the first flower held by the man when his heart finally broke free of its shackles and chains, bonded to money and objects. Soon, an energetic puppy joined them under the branches of the ancient tree. And the tree kept smiling, as he watched seasons pass and the kind-hearted humans that took great joy in the forest. The tree watched as this family protected the forest when others wished to destroy it. And the tree watched as the cycle of his kingdom, his forest, began anew. Chipmunks to bushes, bushes to nests, nests to birds, birds to skies, skies to clouds, and clouds to rain. Rain to chipmunks.
And that, my friends, is the story of the wise old tree and the people whose lives he affected, just by existing. And remember this: you cannot change the past, just as you cannot bring fallen trees back to life. You cannot control the people around you, such as you cannot control the deaths of friends and loved ones. But what you can change is yourself. I am well aware that it is easier said than done, but changing yourself in order to change the future is possible. Shape your own future, and shape it into a future full of flowers, beauty, and love.
crash nebula is a zombie
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- Posted: Mon, 14 Sep 2009 23:10:28 +0000
thank you guys
Niyari
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- Posted: Tue, 15 Sep 2009 03:20:40 +0000
I am very interested in this contest!
I really hope I can get something together in time! I will do my best.
I really hope I can get something together in time! I will do my best.
x_Squiddish_x
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- Posted: Wed, 16 Sep 2009 09:03:00 +0000
I'm working on an entry right now. ^^
I'll try to have it finished by next week! rofl Hopefully...
I'll try to have it finished by next week! rofl Hopefully...
earthkai
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- Posted: Thu, 17 Sep 2009 00:28:13 +0000
I would love to give this a shot. I shall start right now. heart
x_Squiddish_x
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- Posted: Mon, 21 Sep 2009 16:39:09 +0000
Prompt #2
+"As a child, he used to pretend she was his bride."
+"She hummed softly to a tune nobody remembers."
+"He grew self-conscious from his dirty jeans."
+"It is a bright world out there."
--
Seven years. Charlie could hardly believe that it had been that long since he had last driven up that gravel road. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that he hadn’t stood on her porch, throwing rocks at her window just so her dad wouldn’t hear. There had been more than one memory born on that porch; from the nights they would spend sitting on the two person swing staring up at the stars, to the days they would be drafted into adding a fresh coat of pant to the railings. He still smiled when he thought about how there always ended up to be more paint on him than on the house itself.
He still remembered how as a child, he used to pretend she was his bride. He had seen the entire wedding unfold, all on the steps of that porch. And now it was seven years later and he hadn’t seen that girl in forever. He feared that he wouldn’t be able to recognize her. He feared, even more than not recognizing her, that she would not remember him.
Turning his truck down the familiar gravel road, he attempted to wipe the slight furrow off his brow and put on a smile. He couldn’t help but think about the past as the small white house came into view.
“Charlie!” Jenna laughed to herself, pushing the older boy in the shoulder. “You’re going to get us both in trouble.” Even as the girl spoke, a reassured smile spread across Charlie’s face. Glancing over his shoulder, the seventeen year old simply offered a shrug.
“No we aren’t. We’ll only get in trouble if your dad finds out,” He paused, speaking with much more confidence than he felt. The way that Jenna’s father was, it was likely that the man was watching them now, despite him being out of town. “And, seeing as how it’s just you and me here, he won’t find out. That is, of course, unless someone tells him. And I don’t plan on it, do you?” He paused, looking her over with a grin. “Besides, what could a little fun hurt?”
Jenna narrowed her eyes slightly, placing both hands on her hips. “It could hurt a lot, if you’re me. Seeing as how my dad doesn’t like you at all and you’re about to traumatize his horse.”
Glancing over his shoulder again, Charlie’s green eyes sparkled mischievously, looking as though they should belong to a little boy, rather than the scrawny teenager whose face they peered out from. “Consider it a life experience for the horse, not so much traumatizing.” Turning away from her to look at the black mare in front of him, he took a few steps forward. “Oh, and if this horse kicks the crap out of me... and I die... remember that I love you.” He cast her one final glance, winking at her as he spoke.
Shaking her head a bit, Jenna settled back down where she was sitting and waited for the show to start.
Parking the truck in front of the white house, Charlie slowly stepped out of the old vehicle. He could already see that the familiar house hadn’t been properly taken care of, yet it still seemed like the most amazing thing on the property. Despite the fading colors and broken down porch, it seemed like a mansion in the middle of a barren wasteland.
Clenching his jaw, the young man started to walk towards the house. He couldn’t understand why he was so jittery now, after all the time he had spent thinking about this moment. The last few days had been filled with sleepless nights and days of thinking every way that this meeting could go. He thought he had explored every possibility. He knew what could and couldn’t happen. At least, he had made himself believe that he did. And yet, at the same time, he felt uneasy on his own two feet.
Taking a deep breath, he took the steps to the house two at a time and paused in front of the blue door. Tightening his hand into a fist, he slowly lifted it and knocked on the door.
“Jenna!” A rock clinked against the glass window as the boy standing outside tried to get the girl’s attention that was inside. It was late and had long since turned dark. There were no stars to offer light, and the moon had been hidden behind the clouds.
Picking up another small stone, Charlie Moore tossed it up to the second story window, hoping for the glass to open soon. With his luck, the man of the house would be the one to hear and he would be chased off with a shotgun. It could also be said, though, that the man had his reasons. Since the Moore’s had moved to town, people had viewed them as different. They didn’t fit into the idea of normality that the town prided itself on, and for that, the family were considered the outsiders.
“Jenna... Come on, please be up...” The words were whispered this time, though they seemed to be heard by the girl inside. Lifting her window slowly, the sixteen year old peeked her head out into the night air, a mess of blonde hair spilling over her face.
“Charlie? Is that you?” She spoke softly, almost a natural sound for her, though at the same time tried to make herself loud enough to be heard by the boy below her.
With a slight smile, he nodded even though she wouldn’t be able to see him. “Who else would come here this late? Unless you have something to tell me...?”
Grinning, Jenna disappeared inside for a moment before reappearing a moment later, feet first this time. “No one as important as you, Charlie. Climbing out on the roof, the girl swiftly moved to the far side of the house where she could use the supports from the porch to get down. Just by watching her it was apparent that this was not the first time she had been through this.
Shifting, Charlie followed along below her, a slight look of worry on his face. It seemed as though, whether or not she knew what she was doing, he was afraid she would fall.
Pushing her legs over the side, Jenna was on the ground a minute later. Turning as soon as her feet were on solid ground, she jumped at the boy in a hug, smiling.
“Well, hi...” Charlie wrapped his arms around her as she hugged him, his smile fading away slowly. “How’re you...?” His voice seemed distant now that she was in his arms. The normal confidence that he carried himself with was gone.
Jenna pulled back, looking up at her boy with a furrowed brow. “I’m fine, Charlie, what’s wrong..?” She squinted slightly in the darkness to try and make out his facial features a little better.
“Oh, I’m... I’m fine, Jenna.” He forced a smile onto his face, but Jenna didn’t need the light to know it was fake. “I just wanted to see you.”
Frowning, Jenna took his hand and led him towards the stable a couple yards behind the house. She didn’t speak until they had made it inside the building and were on their way to the loft. “What happened, Charlie? You aren’t acting normal.” She spoke as she sat down on a small bale of hay, one of many among the small sanctuary they had made for themselves in the stillness of the stable.
Even with the sounds of the horses shifting and moving around below them, the building itself seemed almost dead. Jenna was sure she would be able to hear a pin drop right now.
Charlie shrugged a bit, turning away slightly. “Nothing happened, Jenna, I just wanted to see you.”
”That’s a lie, Charlie, and you know it.” Jenna straightened. “You’re not even looking me in the eye.” She was staring at him now, concerned covering her face.
Slowly, the boy turned towards her, revealing the reason he had hidden his face in the first place. His eye had been blackened relatively recently and seemed right in place with the cut and swollen lip.
Gasping slightly, Jenna quickly moved to his side, her hand carefully tracing over the side of his face. “Who did this to you, Charlie? What happened?” The concern that she had showed was now doubled, mixed with a look of rage.
Shrugging away, the boy lifted his shoulders slightly before dropping them. “It’s nothing... I, I was the one that was wrong, anyway...”
“But who did it to you, Charlie? Who?”
Shifting his position, Charlie shied away from her touch and frowned. “It... It was my fault... I said that. It wasn’t his. He didn’t mean too... He told me...” Slowly, he turned back to her, his eyes filled with tears. “He said he didn’t mean it...”
“Oh, Charlie...” Letting out her breath slowly, Jenna felt at a loss of what to do. “Was it... Was it your dad, Charlie? Did he do this?”
“It wasn’t his fault.” Turning away, Charlie dropped his gaze. “I just wanted to talk to you...”
“I’m coming!” The soft voice from inside rang out as Charlie stood in front of the door, shifting his weight a bit uncomfortably. He could hear someone inside running around, and he assumed it was the one he had come to see. At least, he hoped that it would be her.
The door swung open quickly a moment later, a young woman standing behind the screen. “Can I help... you...?” Even as the woman spoke her voice trailed off and her mouth dropped. Within a matter of seconds she had paled, obviously recognizing the man that stood in front of her.
“C-Charlie...?” Her voice cracked slightly, though Charlie couldn’t tell if it was from amazement or anger. With her, it was hard to tell; it had always been hard for him to tell.
He took a moment before replying, his gaze slowly drifting over the twenty-four year old. Charlie already knew that he was right when he thought that she would be different. Her figure was nothing if not flattering and he noticed immediately. Her face still held the same amount of gentleness that it once had, and yet, at the same time, her blue eyes seemed so much more sorrow filled. It was quite obvious that she was no longer a child; that she had seen what the world had to offer and was less than thrilled to accept it. But, Jenna had never really been the type to go along with anyone; she liked things her way, whether or not she would admit it.
“Hi-... Hi, Jenna...” He shifted quickly, taking a slight step away from her. He grew self-conscious from his dirty jeans when he compared himself to the beautiful woman in front of him. She was clothed in a light sundress and high heels, not the type that you would expect to find on a small ranch. And, even without make-up spread across her face, Charlie still thought she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. It was almost if she had been anticipating company, and he was sure that it wasn’t him she was waiting for.
“Charlie, what are you doing here?” Her brow furrowed slowly as she looked him over, pain flashing across her face mildly. “I thought you had left... No, you did leave. Why... Why did you come back here?”
Clearing his throat, he already started to become disheartened. He hadn’t expected their meeting to go anything like this. “I...” He paused, thinking through what he wanted to say. “I was thinking about you... I thought that I needed to come-to apologize.” He spoke quickly, hoping not to lose her attention from taking too long. That last thing he wanted was for that door to close.
Looking down for a moment, Jenna nodded slowly. “Why don’t you come inside?” Slowly, she lifted her gaze to look at him, her blue eyes searching his green ones for some hint of why exactly he was here. She wasn’t fully convinced that he had come just to say ‘I’m sorry’.
With a quick nod, Charlie nervously stepped in over the threshold. It felt good to be in that house again.
She hummed softly to a tune nobody remembers as she carefully cut a few flowers out of the garden. Standing up to survey her work, Jenna tilted her head and smiled. It was beautiful, and the flowers that she now held in her hand would look perfect at the center of her family’s table.
Setting the small bunch of flowers on the steps of the porch, Jenna wiped her dirt covered hands over her jeans, ignoring the marks that they left there. She then turned her attention back to the garden as she began to water the flowers that she hadn’t cut. She was so absorbed in her work that he didn’t notice the seventeen year old that was jogging up the driveway. Charlie had almost made it to her before she looked up and noticed him.
The boy smiled a bit, though it didn’t last long. “Jenna, I need to talk to you.”
Her heart sunk almost immediately. Charlie rarely acted like what he was thinking was urgent, but when he did, she knew that it never turned out good. She was already frowning as she turned to him, “What is it, Charlie. What’s wrong? What happened?” Her expression had almost completely changed by now, a more concerned look covering her features. It was almost motherly, in a sense, in the way that one would be overly worried about their child.
“I’m leaving, Jenna. I’m finally getting out of here.” He smiled down, hoping that he would appease her worry. “I thought about what you said... About my dad, and you’re right.”
Jenna’s reaction wasn’t quite what he had expected. Instead of smiling with him, her worried expression shifted into a disappointed frown. “Where are you going?” Her voice sounded calm and emotionless rather than her normal light tone.
“San Francisco, I think, maybe LA? Somewhere I can, you know, try and be someone important.” He turned a bit, shifting around nervously. “I’ll... I’ll write, of course. I couldn’t ever forget you, Jenna. Ever. And I’ll be sure to visit. I just,” He paused, shrugged and turning his gaze towards her. “I can’t stay with him anymore.”
Nodding slowly, Jenna bit at her bottom lip and stepped towards him. “I... understand.” Unconsciously, she held her left hand in her right, her fingers brushing over the ring finger. She hadn’t expected him to leave, at least not so soon, and not without her. “I’ll miss you.”
She didn’t wait long enough to see what he said in reply, instead simply turning and darting back into the house.
The small collect of flowers was left on the porch, scattered slightly by the wind.
“Would you like something to drink?” Jenna moved towards the fridge, wringing her hands together nervously. She cast a glance at him for a moment before quickly turning back to the fridge.
Clearing his throat, Charlie nodded a bit and smiled. “I would like that, thanks.” He paused, his eyes taking in everything from the room. It was all different; older, and yet it was almost exactly like when he had left. He glanced back at her before continuing. “Just water would be great.”
Jenna poured two glasses of water, walking back over to the table to sit. Setting the two down on the table, she carefully folded her hands in her lap. “So why are you here, Charlie. I know it wasn’t just to apologize.” Her eyes never left his.
She was nothing if not direct, finding no reason to lose eye contact just because he looked uncomfortable or nervous. She wanted answers.
Standing back up, Charlie shrugged slowly. “I told you I was thinking about you. I had to come see you...” Furrowing his brow as though he was thinking, Charlie dropped his gaze from hers. At the moment, her bold nature was too much for him.
For a moment, she seemed like she would accept that answer, simply nodding slowly and lifting her glass to her lips. Quietly, she looked up at Charlie and frowned. “I don’t accept it...”
Stopping, Charlie turned back towards her with a confused look. “But, Jenna, really... that’s why I was here. I came to talk to you, to tell you how I’ve been, I-”
“No, Charlie,” She spoke quickly, standing to emphasis the point. “I mean I don’t accept your apology.” Her look had hardened now, though it seemed like nothing more than a mild determination.
Charlie knew that she had always been good at hiding her emotions, and now was no exception. “You... But, Jenna, why?” He hadn’t expected that she would refuse him, especially since he didn’t completely forget about her; he had sent a letter once or twice, whether or not he actually got around to visiting.
“Because, Charlie, you forgot.” It was said so simply that it seemed like she hardly cared about it, but the one thing that he noticed was the look in her eye. It was causing her more pain than she would admit, and he didn’t know why.
Frowning, he looked for the right words to say. “Forgot... Forgot what? I mean, I know I said I would write, but I got busy sometimes, Jenna... I was trying to become a musician, it’s not easy.”
“It’s not about the letters, Charlie. It’s not about any of that. It’s about that night on the loft, when you came in the middle of the night. That’s what it’s always been about.” She was having more trouble keeping a reign on her emotions now as a few tears sprang to her eyes. The same, hard look was apparent on her face, but her eyes continued to betray her.
“Jenna, I don’t understand... What about it?”
Turning away, the girl violently brushed away the tears, a scowl on her face. “I’m not sure if it hurts more that you lied or that you forgot, Charlie.” Her gaze slowly returned to his, refreshed with a displeased look. “You promised that night, Charlie; when we were seventeen. You promised that you would take me away from here and we would get married.” She paused long enough to scoff and roll her eyes. “I should’ve known that you were just trying to make yourself feel good. I should’ve known that you didn’t care about me.”
Taking a slight step back, a flash of realization flashed on his face. “Jenna, please, I can fix it... I can make it up to you. I didn’t mean to hurt you like that, I didn’t! I loved you...” He trailed off slowly, and with the ending of his words it seemed like all the noise in the place disappeared with them.
The two of them stood across from each other, each one holding the other’s gaze without waver.
It was Jenna who broke the silence a moment later. “You know... I even thought that for a while. I tried to make myself believe that you would come back for me... that you were just going to get ready and get me before you left. But you never came, Charlie.”
“But I’m here now, Jenna! I’m here!” He rushed his words out just before she had finished, hoping to convince her that he was still there for her. By the look of dissatisfaction on her face, he knew that it was unsuccessful.
Shaking her head slowly, she forced herself to move away from him. “It’s too late now, Charlie. You’ve missed your opportunity.” As she spoke, she held up her left hand, her gaze shifting from him to the ring that adorned her finger. “I’m getting married.”
For a moment, he said nothing and simply looked between her and the ring in disbelief. She had just seemed so adamant about him a moment before and now she announced that she was getting married. “But... How could...? Why didn’t you tell me.”
Jenna smiled a bit, a bitter laugh slipping past her lips. “I thought showing you was good enough. I wasn’t going to wait for you forever.”
“But, Jenna, why didn’t you tell me back then? Why didn’t you let me know?”
She laughed again, though it was shorter and quieter than the time before. “I figured it was obvious. But, hey, it’s a bright world out there, Charlie. Sometimes you have to wear sunglasses to see what’s right in front of your face.”
That sentence seemed to end the conversation. Nothing more was said between the two as Jenna motioned for the door, signaling that Charlie had overstayed his welcome.
Frowning, Charlie nodded and walked outside. He cast one glance behind him, just in time to see her closing the door. Although he wasn’t close enough to know for sure, he thought that he saw tears rolling down his cheeks. And yet, at the same time, he wasn’t sure if it was simply his vision being clouded by his own tears. Without word, he got into his truck and pulled away, slowly picking up his sunglasses and placing them in front of his eyes.
It was bright outside... but the emotion inside the car was far from being cheerful.
+"As a child, he used to pretend she was his bride."
+"She hummed softly to a tune nobody remembers."
+"He grew self-conscious from his dirty jeans."
+"It is a bright world out there."
--
Seven years. Charlie could hardly believe that it had been that long since he had last driven up that gravel road. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that he hadn’t stood on her porch, throwing rocks at her window just so her dad wouldn’t hear. There had been more than one memory born on that porch; from the nights they would spend sitting on the two person swing staring up at the stars, to the days they would be drafted into adding a fresh coat of pant to the railings. He still smiled when he thought about how there always ended up to be more paint on him than on the house itself.
He still remembered how as a child, he used to pretend she was his bride. He had seen the entire wedding unfold, all on the steps of that porch. And now it was seven years later and he hadn’t seen that girl in forever. He feared that he wouldn’t be able to recognize her. He feared, even more than not recognizing her, that she would not remember him.
Turning his truck down the familiar gravel road, he attempted to wipe the slight furrow off his brow and put on a smile. He couldn’t help but think about the past as the small white house came into view.
“Charlie!” Jenna laughed to herself, pushing the older boy in the shoulder. “You’re going to get us both in trouble.” Even as the girl spoke, a reassured smile spread across Charlie’s face. Glancing over his shoulder, the seventeen year old simply offered a shrug.
“No we aren’t. We’ll only get in trouble if your dad finds out,” He paused, speaking with much more confidence than he felt. The way that Jenna’s father was, it was likely that the man was watching them now, despite him being out of town. “And, seeing as how it’s just you and me here, he won’t find out. That is, of course, unless someone tells him. And I don’t plan on it, do you?” He paused, looking her over with a grin. “Besides, what could a little fun hurt?”
Jenna narrowed her eyes slightly, placing both hands on her hips. “It could hurt a lot, if you’re me. Seeing as how my dad doesn’t like you at all and you’re about to traumatize his horse.”
Glancing over his shoulder again, Charlie’s green eyes sparkled mischievously, looking as though they should belong to a little boy, rather than the scrawny teenager whose face they peered out from. “Consider it a life experience for the horse, not so much traumatizing.” Turning away from her to look at the black mare in front of him, he took a few steps forward. “Oh, and if this horse kicks the crap out of me... and I die... remember that I love you.” He cast her one final glance, winking at her as he spoke.
Shaking her head a bit, Jenna settled back down where she was sitting and waited for the show to start.
Parking the truck in front of the white house, Charlie slowly stepped out of the old vehicle. He could already see that the familiar house hadn’t been properly taken care of, yet it still seemed like the most amazing thing on the property. Despite the fading colors and broken down porch, it seemed like a mansion in the middle of a barren wasteland.
Clenching his jaw, the young man started to walk towards the house. He couldn’t understand why he was so jittery now, after all the time he had spent thinking about this moment. The last few days had been filled with sleepless nights and days of thinking every way that this meeting could go. He thought he had explored every possibility. He knew what could and couldn’t happen. At least, he had made himself believe that he did. And yet, at the same time, he felt uneasy on his own two feet.
Taking a deep breath, he took the steps to the house two at a time and paused in front of the blue door. Tightening his hand into a fist, he slowly lifted it and knocked on the door.
“Jenna!” A rock clinked against the glass window as the boy standing outside tried to get the girl’s attention that was inside. It was late and had long since turned dark. There were no stars to offer light, and the moon had been hidden behind the clouds.
Picking up another small stone, Charlie Moore tossed it up to the second story window, hoping for the glass to open soon. With his luck, the man of the house would be the one to hear and he would be chased off with a shotgun. It could also be said, though, that the man had his reasons. Since the Moore’s had moved to town, people had viewed them as different. They didn’t fit into the idea of normality that the town prided itself on, and for that, the family were considered the outsiders.
“Jenna... Come on, please be up...” The words were whispered this time, though they seemed to be heard by the girl inside. Lifting her window slowly, the sixteen year old peeked her head out into the night air, a mess of blonde hair spilling over her face.
“Charlie? Is that you?” She spoke softly, almost a natural sound for her, though at the same time tried to make herself loud enough to be heard by the boy below her.
With a slight smile, he nodded even though she wouldn’t be able to see him. “Who else would come here this late? Unless you have something to tell me...?”
Grinning, Jenna disappeared inside for a moment before reappearing a moment later, feet first this time. “No one as important as you, Charlie. Climbing out on the roof, the girl swiftly moved to the far side of the house where she could use the supports from the porch to get down. Just by watching her it was apparent that this was not the first time she had been through this.
Shifting, Charlie followed along below her, a slight look of worry on his face. It seemed as though, whether or not she knew what she was doing, he was afraid she would fall.
Pushing her legs over the side, Jenna was on the ground a minute later. Turning as soon as her feet were on solid ground, she jumped at the boy in a hug, smiling.
“Well, hi...” Charlie wrapped his arms around her as she hugged him, his smile fading away slowly. “How’re you...?” His voice seemed distant now that she was in his arms. The normal confidence that he carried himself with was gone.
Jenna pulled back, looking up at her boy with a furrowed brow. “I’m fine, Charlie, what’s wrong..?” She squinted slightly in the darkness to try and make out his facial features a little better.
“Oh, I’m... I’m fine, Jenna.” He forced a smile onto his face, but Jenna didn’t need the light to know it was fake. “I just wanted to see you.”
Frowning, Jenna took his hand and led him towards the stable a couple yards behind the house. She didn’t speak until they had made it inside the building and were on their way to the loft. “What happened, Charlie? You aren’t acting normal.” She spoke as she sat down on a small bale of hay, one of many among the small sanctuary they had made for themselves in the stillness of the stable.
Even with the sounds of the horses shifting and moving around below them, the building itself seemed almost dead. Jenna was sure she would be able to hear a pin drop right now.
Charlie shrugged a bit, turning away slightly. “Nothing happened, Jenna, I just wanted to see you.”
”That’s a lie, Charlie, and you know it.” Jenna straightened. “You’re not even looking me in the eye.” She was staring at him now, concerned covering her face.
Slowly, the boy turned towards her, revealing the reason he had hidden his face in the first place. His eye had been blackened relatively recently and seemed right in place with the cut and swollen lip.
Gasping slightly, Jenna quickly moved to his side, her hand carefully tracing over the side of his face. “Who did this to you, Charlie? What happened?” The concern that she had showed was now doubled, mixed with a look of rage.
Shrugging away, the boy lifted his shoulders slightly before dropping them. “It’s nothing... I, I was the one that was wrong, anyway...”
“But who did it to you, Charlie? Who?”
Shifting his position, Charlie shied away from her touch and frowned. “It... It was my fault... I said that. It wasn’t his. He didn’t mean too... He told me...” Slowly, he turned back to her, his eyes filled with tears. “He said he didn’t mean it...”
“Oh, Charlie...” Letting out her breath slowly, Jenna felt at a loss of what to do. “Was it... Was it your dad, Charlie? Did he do this?”
“It wasn’t his fault.” Turning away, Charlie dropped his gaze. “I just wanted to talk to you...”
“I’m coming!” The soft voice from inside rang out as Charlie stood in front of the door, shifting his weight a bit uncomfortably. He could hear someone inside running around, and he assumed it was the one he had come to see. At least, he hoped that it would be her.
The door swung open quickly a moment later, a young woman standing behind the screen. “Can I help... you...?” Even as the woman spoke her voice trailed off and her mouth dropped. Within a matter of seconds she had paled, obviously recognizing the man that stood in front of her.
“C-Charlie...?” Her voice cracked slightly, though Charlie couldn’t tell if it was from amazement or anger. With her, it was hard to tell; it had always been hard for him to tell.
He took a moment before replying, his gaze slowly drifting over the twenty-four year old. Charlie already knew that he was right when he thought that she would be different. Her figure was nothing if not flattering and he noticed immediately. Her face still held the same amount of gentleness that it once had, and yet, at the same time, her blue eyes seemed so much more sorrow filled. It was quite obvious that she was no longer a child; that she had seen what the world had to offer and was less than thrilled to accept it. But, Jenna had never really been the type to go along with anyone; she liked things her way, whether or not she would admit it.
“Hi-... Hi, Jenna...” He shifted quickly, taking a slight step away from her. He grew self-conscious from his dirty jeans when he compared himself to the beautiful woman in front of him. She was clothed in a light sundress and high heels, not the type that you would expect to find on a small ranch. And, even without make-up spread across her face, Charlie still thought she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. It was almost if she had been anticipating company, and he was sure that it wasn’t him she was waiting for.
“Charlie, what are you doing here?” Her brow furrowed slowly as she looked him over, pain flashing across her face mildly. “I thought you had left... No, you did leave. Why... Why did you come back here?”
Clearing his throat, he already started to become disheartened. He hadn’t expected their meeting to go anything like this. “I...” He paused, thinking through what he wanted to say. “I was thinking about you... I thought that I needed to come-to apologize.” He spoke quickly, hoping not to lose her attention from taking too long. That last thing he wanted was for that door to close.
Looking down for a moment, Jenna nodded slowly. “Why don’t you come inside?” Slowly, she lifted her gaze to look at him, her blue eyes searching his green ones for some hint of why exactly he was here. She wasn’t fully convinced that he had come just to say ‘I’m sorry’.
With a quick nod, Charlie nervously stepped in over the threshold. It felt good to be in that house again.
She hummed softly to a tune nobody remembers as she carefully cut a few flowers out of the garden. Standing up to survey her work, Jenna tilted her head and smiled. It was beautiful, and the flowers that she now held in her hand would look perfect at the center of her family’s table.
Setting the small bunch of flowers on the steps of the porch, Jenna wiped her dirt covered hands over her jeans, ignoring the marks that they left there. She then turned her attention back to the garden as she began to water the flowers that she hadn’t cut. She was so absorbed in her work that he didn’t notice the seventeen year old that was jogging up the driveway. Charlie had almost made it to her before she looked up and noticed him.
The boy smiled a bit, though it didn’t last long. “Jenna, I need to talk to you.”
Her heart sunk almost immediately. Charlie rarely acted like what he was thinking was urgent, but when he did, she knew that it never turned out good. She was already frowning as she turned to him, “What is it, Charlie. What’s wrong? What happened?” Her expression had almost completely changed by now, a more concerned look covering her features. It was almost motherly, in a sense, in the way that one would be overly worried about their child.
“I’m leaving, Jenna. I’m finally getting out of here.” He smiled down, hoping that he would appease her worry. “I thought about what you said... About my dad, and you’re right.”
Jenna’s reaction wasn’t quite what he had expected. Instead of smiling with him, her worried expression shifted into a disappointed frown. “Where are you going?” Her voice sounded calm and emotionless rather than her normal light tone.
“San Francisco, I think, maybe LA? Somewhere I can, you know, try and be someone important.” He turned a bit, shifting around nervously. “I’ll... I’ll write, of course. I couldn’t ever forget you, Jenna. Ever. And I’ll be sure to visit. I just,” He paused, shrugged and turning his gaze towards her. “I can’t stay with him anymore.”
Nodding slowly, Jenna bit at her bottom lip and stepped towards him. “I... understand.” Unconsciously, she held her left hand in her right, her fingers brushing over the ring finger. She hadn’t expected him to leave, at least not so soon, and not without her. “I’ll miss you.”
She didn’t wait long enough to see what he said in reply, instead simply turning and darting back into the house.
The small collect of flowers was left on the porch, scattered slightly by the wind.
“Would you like something to drink?” Jenna moved towards the fridge, wringing her hands together nervously. She cast a glance at him for a moment before quickly turning back to the fridge.
Clearing his throat, Charlie nodded a bit and smiled. “I would like that, thanks.” He paused, his eyes taking in everything from the room. It was all different; older, and yet it was almost exactly like when he had left. He glanced back at her before continuing. “Just water would be great.”
Jenna poured two glasses of water, walking back over to the table to sit. Setting the two down on the table, she carefully folded her hands in her lap. “So why are you here, Charlie. I know it wasn’t just to apologize.” Her eyes never left his.
She was nothing if not direct, finding no reason to lose eye contact just because he looked uncomfortable or nervous. She wanted answers.
Standing back up, Charlie shrugged slowly. “I told you I was thinking about you. I had to come see you...” Furrowing his brow as though he was thinking, Charlie dropped his gaze from hers. At the moment, her bold nature was too much for him.
For a moment, she seemed like she would accept that answer, simply nodding slowly and lifting her glass to her lips. Quietly, she looked up at Charlie and frowned. “I don’t accept it...”
Stopping, Charlie turned back towards her with a confused look. “But, Jenna, really... that’s why I was here. I came to talk to you, to tell you how I’ve been, I-”
“No, Charlie,” She spoke quickly, standing to emphasis the point. “I mean I don’t accept your apology.” Her look had hardened now, though it seemed like nothing more than a mild determination.
Charlie knew that she had always been good at hiding her emotions, and now was no exception. “You... But, Jenna, why?” He hadn’t expected that she would refuse him, especially since he didn’t completely forget about her; he had sent a letter once or twice, whether or not he actually got around to visiting.
“Because, Charlie, you forgot.” It was said so simply that it seemed like she hardly cared about it, but the one thing that he noticed was the look in her eye. It was causing her more pain than she would admit, and he didn’t know why.
Frowning, he looked for the right words to say. “Forgot... Forgot what? I mean, I know I said I would write, but I got busy sometimes, Jenna... I was trying to become a musician, it’s not easy.”
“It’s not about the letters, Charlie. It’s not about any of that. It’s about that night on the loft, when you came in the middle of the night. That’s what it’s always been about.” She was having more trouble keeping a reign on her emotions now as a few tears sprang to her eyes. The same, hard look was apparent on her face, but her eyes continued to betray her.
“Jenna, I don’t understand... What about it?”
Turning away, the girl violently brushed away the tears, a scowl on her face. “I’m not sure if it hurts more that you lied or that you forgot, Charlie.” Her gaze slowly returned to his, refreshed with a displeased look. “You promised that night, Charlie; when we were seventeen. You promised that you would take me away from here and we would get married.” She paused long enough to scoff and roll her eyes. “I should’ve known that you were just trying to make yourself feel good. I should’ve known that you didn’t care about me.”
Taking a slight step back, a flash of realization flashed on his face. “Jenna, please, I can fix it... I can make it up to you. I didn’t mean to hurt you like that, I didn’t! I loved you...” He trailed off slowly, and with the ending of his words it seemed like all the noise in the place disappeared with them.
The two of them stood across from each other, each one holding the other’s gaze without waver.
It was Jenna who broke the silence a moment later. “You know... I even thought that for a while. I tried to make myself believe that you would come back for me... that you were just going to get ready and get me before you left. But you never came, Charlie.”
“But I’m here now, Jenna! I’m here!” He rushed his words out just before she had finished, hoping to convince her that he was still there for her. By the look of dissatisfaction on her face, he knew that it was unsuccessful.
Shaking her head slowly, she forced herself to move away from him. “It’s too late now, Charlie. You’ve missed your opportunity.” As she spoke, she held up her left hand, her gaze shifting from him to the ring that adorned her finger. “I’m getting married.”
For a moment, he said nothing and simply looked between her and the ring in disbelief. She had just seemed so adamant about him a moment before and now she announced that she was getting married. “But... How could...? Why didn’t you tell me.”
Jenna smiled a bit, a bitter laugh slipping past her lips. “I thought showing you was good enough. I wasn’t going to wait for you forever.”
“But, Jenna, why didn’t you tell me back then? Why didn’t you let me know?”
She laughed again, though it was shorter and quieter than the time before. “I figured it was obvious. But, hey, it’s a bright world out there, Charlie. Sometimes you have to wear sunglasses to see what’s right in front of your face.”
That sentence seemed to end the conversation. Nothing more was said between the two as Jenna motioned for the door, signaling that Charlie had overstayed his welcome.
Frowning, Charlie nodded and walked outside. He cast one glance behind him, just in time to see her closing the door. Although he wasn’t close enough to know for sure, he thought that he saw tears rolling down his cheeks. And yet, at the same time, he wasn’t sure if it was simply his vision being clouded by his own tears. Without word, he got into his truck and pulled away, slowly picking up his sunglasses and placing them in front of his eyes.
It was bright outside... but the emotion inside the car was far from being cheerful.
suctionllama
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- Posted: Mon, 21 Sep 2009 17:11:04 +0000
Umm, I'm new, But I can enter right..?
I'm gonna start mine now, so I'll post it either later tonight or tomorrow : D
But if I'm not allowed, I'll delete it
I'm gonna start mine now, so I'll post it either later tonight or tomorrow : D
But if I'm not allowed, I'll delete it
suctionllama
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- Posted: Mon, 21 Sep 2009 18:10:29 +0000
Cluster #2
+"As a child, he used to pretend she was his bride."
+"She hummed softly to a tune nobody remembers."
+"He grew self-conscious from his dirty jeans."
+"It is a bright world out there."
With both eyes fixed on the figure of a girl, the young boy smiled. It wasn’t fair that she could torment him like this, yet he couldn’t even get her to notice him. Of course, it was all relative. Maybe if he worked in the same line of work as her, she would see him. And hopefully like what she saw. But he would never get her to notice him. He had known this for years, yet he always hoped. He had been interested in her since the first moment he saw her. It would have been hard for him not to of course, because she was unlike anyone he had seen before. It was his seventh birthday, and he had seen her walking across a street with her hand in an older woman’s. Her mother? Her raven hair had been her defining feature right until the moment she had turned and he had caught a glance of her dark skin. It was beautiful. Her dark brown eyes had enticed him also, being as they were so dark they were practically black. He didn’t know it at the time, being so naïve, but years later there was one way he would describe her to the people he knew. He would say he had fell in love with her at that very moment. And in truth, he had. It had given him a weird childhood. From then on, instead of doing the normal getting into trouble things with his friends, he would spend his day locked up in his room. As a child, he used to pretend she was his bride. He was so young, yet so far gone.
Six years later, he caught his first up close glance of her. Before now, he had only seen her from far away. Or she would be close, but he wouldn’t have been able to touch her. Now, he was but an arms length away from her. She was in the middle of a crowd of people; with a smile on her lips which made her whole face light up. She hummed softly to a tune nobody remembers. Apart from him. He always remembered that tune, because she had been humming it the first time he had seen her. He had tried to capture her attention, but all of his efforts were in vain. Before she could have had the change to turn and see him, she had been whisked away by a man and a woman. It was a different woman from the time he had first met her, but he was used to seeing her with many different adults now. Maybe they were her nannies? Maybe they were relatives? One thing was for sure; she went through them fast.
Shaking his head, he bit on the inside of his lip. He grew self-conscious from his dirty jeans. Today was the day he would introduce himself. He didn’t want to, but once his friends had found out about his infatuation they had went to so much trouble to be sure of the fact he met her he couldn’t simply say ‘no’. It wouldn’t be fair to them. And, truthfully, a little part of him was excited. That small part of him was stopping him from running out of the room all the way home. The person in-front of him moved to the side and he stepped forward, taking a shaky breath. He rummaged around in his bag, trying to find what he had with him. She merely smiled, and leant forward slightly on her chair so she could talk quietly to him without being overheard. “If you’re looking for a pen, I have one with me.” He looked up, a slight blush on his cheeks. Taking the pen she offered, he blushed harder when their hands blushed, then bent down and signed on the petition she was forming. Setting down the pen, he straightened up and cleared his throat. She smiled again, the smile that made his insides flutter, and he rubbed his sweaty palms against his jeans discretely before holding one out. “Hi, I’m Ryan.” She took his hand and shook it firmly, like a business woman. He was transfixed by her eyes however. They really were very pretty. The light was shining off them, which was actually making them seem blacker than ever. And it was as if she was staring right into his soul. He stared for a few seconds, but she then took back her hand. She looked at him with a worried look, and he spluttered. Stuttering a sorry, he held out a book open at the front page. With another smile, she scribbled a few words in the book and handed it back to him.
Hours later, he would be reading the book with his friends as they jostled him. Sitting on the train, he closed the book and let his head rest against the window of the train. He had spoken to her. And she hadn’t disregarded him. Sure, it was her job to be kind to people, and she wouldn’t sell many of her biography if she was mean to the people about to buy it. But it meant a lot to him. Hugging the book to his chest, he stared out into the greenery surrounding the train tracks, and sighed happily. Now she had met him, maybe she would remember him? It was a silly thought, she was famous and had no reason to remember one person, but maybe it would happen. It would certainly mean all of his dreams coming true. She didn’t even have to like him, just to be recognised by her would make him so, so happy. Opening the front page of the book one more time, he re-read what she had written for what seemed like the fiftieth time. 'Dear Ryan, It was lovely meeting you! It’s a bright world out there. So make sure you take advantage of that! Make the most of everything, and watch my shows! I joke, lurrrve Charmaine.' Hugging the book to his chest, Ryan smiled and closed his eyes. He would never feel this happy again, and he didn’t mind about that. As long as he had hope, he would be fine. He didn’t need to be happy, he only needed hope.
this okay??
+"As a child, he used to pretend she was his bride."
+"She hummed softly to a tune nobody remembers."
+"He grew self-conscious from his dirty jeans."
+"It is a bright world out there."
With both eyes fixed on the figure of a girl, the young boy smiled. It wasn’t fair that she could torment him like this, yet he couldn’t even get her to notice him. Of course, it was all relative. Maybe if he worked in the same line of work as her, she would see him. And hopefully like what she saw. But he would never get her to notice him. He had known this for years, yet he always hoped. He had been interested in her since the first moment he saw her. It would have been hard for him not to of course, because she was unlike anyone he had seen before. It was his seventh birthday, and he had seen her walking across a street with her hand in an older woman’s. Her mother? Her raven hair had been her defining feature right until the moment she had turned and he had caught a glance of her dark skin. It was beautiful. Her dark brown eyes had enticed him also, being as they were so dark they were practically black. He didn’t know it at the time, being so naïve, but years later there was one way he would describe her to the people he knew. He would say he had fell in love with her at that very moment. And in truth, he had. It had given him a weird childhood. From then on, instead of doing the normal getting into trouble things with his friends, he would spend his day locked up in his room. As a child, he used to pretend she was his bride. He was so young, yet so far gone.
Six years later, he caught his first up close glance of her. Before now, he had only seen her from far away. Or she would be close, but he wouldn’t have been able to touch her. Now, he was but an arms length away from her. She was in the middle of a crowd of people; with a smile on her lips which made her whole face light up. She hummed softly to a tune nobody remembers. Apart from him. He always remembered that tune, because she had been humming it the first time he had seen her. He had tried to capture her attention, but all of his efforts were in vain. Before she could have had the change to turn and see him, she had been whisked away by a man and a woman. It was a different woman from the time he had first met her, but he was used to seeing her with many different adults now. Maybe they were her nannies? Maybe they were relatives? One thing was for sure; she went through them fast.
Shaking his head, he bit on the inside of his lip. He grew self-conscious from his dirty jeans. Today was the day he would introduce himself. He didn’t want to, but once his friends had found out about his infatuation they had went to so much trouble to be sure of the fact he met her he couldn’t simply say ‘no’. It wouldn’t be fair to them. And, truthfully, a little part of him was excited. That small part of him was stopping him from running out of the room all the way home. The person in-front of him moved to the side and he stepped forward, taking a shaky breath. He rummaged around in his bag, trying to find what he had with him. She merely smiled, and leant forward slightly on her chair so she could talk quietly to him without being overheard. “If you’re looking for a pen, I have one with me.” He looked up, a slight blush on his cheeks. Taking the pen she offered, he blushed harder when their hands blushed, then bent down and signed on the petition she was forming. Setting down the pen, he straightened up and cleared his throat. She smiled again, the smile that made his insides flutter, and he rubbed his sweaty palms against his jeans discretely before holding one out. “Hi, I’m Ryan.” She took his hand and shook it firmly, like a business woman. He was transfixed by her eyes however. They really were very pretty. The light was shining off them, which was actually making them seem blacker than ever. And it was as if she was staring right into his soul. He stared for a few seconds, but she then took back her hand. She looked at him with a worried look, and he spluttered. Stuttering a sorry, he held out a book open at the front page. With another smile, she scribbled a few words in the book and handed it back to him.
Hours later, he would be reading the book with his friends as they jostled him. Sitting on the train, he closed the book and let his head rest against the window of the train. He had spoken to her. And she hadn’t disregarded him. Sure, it was her job to be kind to people, and she wouldn’t sell many of her biography if she was mean to the people about to buy it. But it meant a lot to him. Hugging the book to his chest, he stared out into the greenery surrounding the train tracks, and sighed happily. Now she had met him, maybe she would remember him? It was a silly thought, she was famous and had no reason to remember one person, but maybe it would happen. It would certainly mean all of his dreams coming true. She didn’t even have to like him, just to be recognised by her would make him so, so happy. Opening the front page of the book one more time, he re-read what she had written for what seemed like the fiftieth time. 'Dear Ryan, It was lovely meeting you! It’s a bright world out there. So make sure you take advantage of that! Make the most of everything, and watch my shows! I joke, lurrrve Charmaine.' Hugging the book to his chest, Ryan smiled and closed his eyes. He would never feel this happy again, and he didn’t mind about that. As long as he had hope, he would be fine. He didn’t need to be happy, he only needed hope.
this okay??
crash nebula is a zombie
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- Posted: Mon, 21 Sep 2009 23:29:02 +0000
Thank you
Moonligh Serenade
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- Posted: Wed, 23 Sep 2009 19:27:11 +0000
I need to change the tense of one of the lines, but I kept it as is until I got your approval. (It's my own fault for starting the story and not planning ahead, sweatdrop )
Cluster Three:
+"You're in safe hands, I promise."
+"Outside, bombs screeched like horror movie victims."
+"He hoped to see the ice cream truck, but saw nothing."
+"I can't remember, are we in New York?"
Her body has been tossed to the side of the crowded street, forgotten. Her black serial number stands out in stark contrast to her pale, pale skin. It’s the first thing he notices about her as he walks hurriedly by. He stops to stare at her limp form, and tells himself that if she is there when his appointment is done with, he will stop to help. When he comes back to the spot far later in the day, night almost, her body is in the same position as when he first saw her. It’s almost a disappointment knowing he will have to keep the promise he made to himself. He picks her up and walks the three blocks to his home. No one stops to look at the business man holding a bloody, bruised girl in his arms. Its war after all.
He awkwardly lays her down on his couch, after putting towels down to insure the leather won’t get stained. The blood soaks through the cheap cotton despite his efforts, something he won’t realize until much later. His apartment is dull, dreary, except for the one bright spot of scarlet that is the girl. His life is shades of gray up in until this point and staring down at her face, he feels as if something is about to change. He hopes it isn’t more blood. She awakens forcefully, jerking up off the couch and looking wildly around. Startled he jumps back before running his hands down his slacks in a nervous gesture. Her eyes are black, like coal. Not like night or pitch, but the type of coal black that could burn red at any moment. That thought flits through his head, momentarily, as her those eyes finally come to rest on him. For a long time, he has nothing to say under the weight of that stare. Finally he mumbles:
"You're in safe hands, I promise."
Her eyes widen, then narrow in thought. She obviously doesn’t believe him. He stares at her as she stares as him. He thinks that maybe she has something to do with the war, and it almost scares him. The silence is heavy and oppressive. Just when he is about to break, just when he thinks he can’t take it anymore she looks at him again, and speaks.
“You say I’m safe, but you can see me again.” 'Great', he thinks to himself, 'a crazy person'. He tries to think of nice soothing answers, but all he can come up with is:
"I can't remember, are we in New York?" She stares at him as if he is the crazy one. But he really cannot remember anymore. His life has blurred together into one gray ribbon of indistinct memory and desperation since the war started. He doesn’t think he’s really been alive for quite some time, not like this girl sitting so vividly on his couch. The thought begins to sadden him, but he presses on.
“Because I figure things like this could happen in New York City” she stares again, this time looking almost annoyed. Before she can answer, a type of sound fills the air. It’s almost like music, but not quite, its high pitched and loud. He thinks…. He walks to the window, ignoring the girl as she screams for him to get back, get back. He hoped to see the ice cream truck, but saw nothing. There was no ice cream truck, no anything out on the roads. Just a lone tank and some soldiers. It is after dark, after curfew, so its understandable. His head is hurting, as it does when life begins to encroach upon his gray ribbon. But the girl is urging him to come away from the window, quickly, and she seems very upset. It’s the first real emotion she’s shown. So he ambles over to the couch and sits down on the far arm, away from the girl so as not to startle her. Her eyes are fixed upon him again, with the gaze of someone sorting out a puzzle. He thinks this might be funny, but doesn’t say so.
“What is wrong with you?” Her voice is filled with distain but she doesn’t give him time to answer.
“Do you just not care; are you just not alive inside that head of yours?” Now her voice is soft, worried. As if his answer carried some importance. He would have brushed aside her words, if not for her tone. So instead, he strains past the fog of his half-life and tries to understand the question. Is he alive? He doesn’t really know. He knows he is breathing, moving… but alive is more complicated.
He is going to tell her so when death starts to rain down upon their heads. The bombing of cities, during war time, is not uncommon. It is simply… unpleasant for those living in said cities. She screams, a terrified wail that seemes more fitting from a child. She jumps up, and limps as fast as she can to the bedroom, to the bathroom. He doesn’t stop to wonder how she knows where it is before running after. He finds her huddled in the bathtub, knees tucked under her chin. She looks much smaller than before. He can’t find it in him to be afraid. He knows the situation calls for it, but the gray fog is far too thick for emotions to flow.
He gently slides in across from her, before copying her position. They stare at each other as outside, bombs screeched like horror movie victims. Her eyes are not black like coals anymore; they glow with an inner light that he thinks might be what normal people have instead of fog. His life is not flashing before his eyes as the building shakes. But he can see that her eyes glow brighter with each passing moment. They are filled with the last brightest moments of life, of emotions, of the girls spirit. The building shakes again. Her eyes fill with the life he is missing, the fog lifts for a brief moment, and he finds himself feeling as incomplete as to die.
The fog settles in again as the bombing stops. She is nearly catatonic and so he gently lifts her and sets her back on the blood stained couch. His windows are broken, letting the weather in, but he can’t care. He stares down at the sleeping form of her, and wonders if he will ever feel again.
(Hope this is okay...)
Cluster Three:
+"You're in safe hands, I promise."
+"Outside, bombs screeched like horror movie victims."
+"He hoped to see the ice cream truck, but saw nothing."
+"I can't remember, are we in New York?"
THE ONLY LIVING MAN IN NEW YORK
Her body has been tossed to the side of the crowded street, forgotten. Her black serial number stands out in stark contrast to her pale, pale skin. It’s the first thing he notices about her as he walks hurriedly by. He stops to stare at her limp form, and tells himself that if she is there when his appointment is done with, he will stop to help. When he comes back to the spot far later in the day, night almost, her body is in the same position as when he first saw her. It’s almost a disappointment knowing he will have to keep the promise he made to himself. He picks her up and walks the three blocks to his home. No one stops to look at the business man holding a bloody, bruised girl in his arms. Its war after all.
He awkwardly lays her down on his couch, after putting towels down to insure the leather won’t get stained. The blood soaks through the cheap cotton despite his efforts, something he won’t realize until much later. His apartment is dull, dreary, except for the one bright spot of scarlet that is the girl. His life is shades of gray up in until this point and staring down at her face, he feels as if something is about to change. He hopes it isn’t more blood. She awakens forcefully, jerking up off the couch and looking wildly around. Startled he jumps back before running his hands down his slacks in a nervous gesture. Her eyes are black, like coal. Not like night or pitch, but the type of coal black that could burn red at any moment. That thought flits through his head, momentarily, as her those eyes finally come to rest on him. For a long time, he has nothing to say under the weight of that stare. Finally he mumbles:
"You're in safe hands, I promise."
Her eyes widen, then narrow in thought. She obviously doesn’t believe him. He stares at her as she stares as him. He thinks that maybe she has something to do with the war, and it almost scares him. The silence is heavy and oppressive. Just when he is about to break, just when he thinks he can’t take it anymore she looks at him again, and speaks.
“You say I’m safe, but you can see me again.” 'Great', he thinks to himself, 'a crazy person'. He tries to think of nice soothing answers, but all he can come up with is:
"I can't remember, are we in New York?" She stares at him as if he is the crazy one. But he really cannot remember anymore. His life has blurred together into one gray ribbon of indistinct memory and desperation since the war started. He doesn’t think he’s really been alive for quite some time, not like this girl sitting so vividly on his couch. The thought begins to sadden him, but he presses on.
“Because I figure things like this could happen in New York City” she stares again, this time looking almost annoyed. Before she can answer, a type of sound fills the air. It’s almost like music, but not quite, its high pitched and loud. He thinks…. He walks to the window, ignoring the girl as she screams for him to get back, get back. He hoped to see the ice cream truck, but saw nothing. There was no ice cream truck, no anything out on the roads. Just a lone tank and some soldiers. It is after dark, after curfew, so its understandable. His head is hurting, as it does when life begins to encroach upon his gray ribbon. But the girl is urging him to come away from the window, quickly, and she seems very upset. It’s the first real emotion she’s shown. So he ambles over to the couch and sits down on the far arm, away from the girl so as not to startle her. Her eyes are fixed upon him again, with the gaze of someone sorting out a puzzle. He thinks this might be funny, but doesn’t say so.
“What is wrong with you?” Her voice is filled with distain but she doesn’t give him time to answer.
“Do you just not care; are you just not alive inside that head of yours?” Now her voice is soft, worried. As if his answer carried some importance. He would have brushed aside her words, if not for her tone. So instead, he strains past the fog of his half-life and tries to understand the question. Is he alive? He doesn’t really know. He knows he is breathing, moving… but alive is more complicated.
He is going to tell her so when death starts to rain down upon their heads. The bombing of cities, during war time, is not uncommon. It is simply… unpleasant for those living in said cities. She screams, a terrified wail that seemes more fitting from a child. She jumps up, and limps as fast as she can to the bedroom, to the bathroom. He doesn’t stop to wonder how she knows where it is before running after. He finds her huddled in the bathtub, knees tucked under her chin. She looks much smaller than before. He can’t find it in him to be afraid. He knows the situation calls for it, but the gray fog is far too thick for emotions to flow.
He gently slides in across from her, before copying her position. They stare at each other as outside, bombs screeched like horror movie victims. Her eyes are not black like coals anymore; they glow with an inner light that he thinks might be what normal people have instead of fog. His life is not flashing before his eyes as the building shakes. But he can see that her eyes glow brighter with each passing moment. They are filled with the last brightest moments of life, of emotions, of the girls spirit. The building shakes again. Her eyes fill with the life he is missing, the fog lifts for a brief moment, and he finds himself feeling as incomplete as to die.
The fog settles in again as the bombing stops. She is nearly catatonic and so he gently lifts her and sets her back on the blood stained couch. His windows are broken, letting the weather in, but he can’t care. He stares down at the sleeping form of her, and wonders if he will ever feel again.
END.
(Hope this is okay...)
blatva
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- Posted: Thu, 24 Sep 2009 03:15:52 +0000
My piece will be done shortly 
xXxminimagexXx
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- Posted: Sun, 04 Oct 2009 11:56:45 +0000
lol nervous burning_eyes
supergirl10895
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- Posted: Sun, 04 Oct 2009 20:01:36 +0000
xXxminimagexXx
lol nervous burning burning_eyes
You, and the rest of us all.
suctionllama
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- Posted: Sun, 04 Oct 2009 20:39:39 +0000
I'm not nervous ;D Jokes, I'm only not nervous because I know I've failed already, i was just bored when I wrote mine
