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 Posted: Thu Nov 13, 2008 2:27 pm
o1 || Buying Muffins
Frankie sighed, scratching through her hair to the back of her head. First she had been late to practice, which was stressful enough, but when the rain started downpouring and the choreographer had canceled on them she was left in even more of a tizzy as she was forced to take the bus home. Smelling of hobo urine and hippie, she finally got home and took a quick shower (which abruptly turned cold on her halfway through) and headed for the sweet, wonderful comfort of Moon Cakes Bakery.
When the Elf arrived, she was wet and cold and very likely catching a cold. She gave a heavy sigh, but managed a smile for Audley. Some skull cupcakes (muffins, she would find) caught her eye and she ordered three. Nibbling on one, she didn't notice when Audley slipped the little music box into her bag. That is, not until she got home.
Frankie sat on her couch, holding the little box in her hand. She twirled the tiny, fragile crank between her thumb and forefinger and listen to the tune it played. It was a jovial tune, familiar but unrecognizable as it had been changed to a minor key. She just smiled, listening. What a sweetheart that Audley was! She would make it a point to visit him more often...
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Posted: Thu Dec 11, 2008 2:33 pm
o2 || Eerie Creaking Noises
"I got it from the bakery down the way. It's pretty awesome," Frankie said, rifling through the various objects on her Junk N' Stuff shelf. The little music box had been mostly forgotten, except when there was someone new to show. It still played the same eerie tune, much to Frankie's delight.
"Ah. Here it is."
She hefted up the box, noting that it felt a little heavier than earlier, but an attempt to pry the lid off ended as it did ever time; in failure.
"Listen."
She turned the little lever on the side and let the tune play.
"Sounds kinda familiar, huh?"
-
"Interesting," Thomas said dryly, watching Frankie's attempt to open it with a slight amusement. "They probably superglued it shut, y'know."
At the question he shrugged.
"I s'pose. Tchaikovsky?"
"That's it!" Frankie said, snapping her fingers, "Romance in...in..." She played it again.
"F minor. Discordant as hell, but you're a goddamn genius."
-
"I know," Thom said, slouching with hands shoved into his pockets. "Sounds kinda creepy. Where'd you get it, anyway?"
"From that dude who runs the bakery. Adurr. Audley, I think his name is." Frankie gave a little nonchalant shrug and tucked the music box under her arm. It began to play again. ...was that Mozart? Wait a second!
Frankie either didn't notice or didn't care.
"Come on. We need to get to creatin'."
-
"Durrhurr, the baker, not the...wherever the hell you get music boxes. How the hell was I s'posed to know, wench."
Hmn. Mozart? ...nah, probably just the crappy thing unwinding inside and hitting random notes. Feh.
"Alright, fearless leader," Thom said. "Lead and I shall follow, all that, blah blah."
Frankie fiddled with the lever and it played once more as they headed for her room. She had her keyboard there, and could supply very nice vague percussion sounds.
...was that Mary Had a Little Lamb...?!
"So. Subject matter. We need it."
-
Giving the music box a brief distrustful look, Thomas switched back to the issue at hand. Hrm.
"...uhm...how about...mole people. Y'know, the crazies that live down in the sewers."
Frankie wrinkled her nose.
"Well, I guess. I mean, it must be shitty down there. All of the emo kids will think it's about alienation." Which she would make sure it was. Frankie was a serious writer, not some hack.
...not that she thought Thom was a hack! Even if he was.
Ping! Ping. Ping! Creeeeeak~
Frankie ignored the sudden sounds.
-
"Hey, y'get what you pay for," Thom said obliquely. "You're the creative one here."
...ping? Creak?
"Um..."
"Alright."
Frankie flopped on her bed, crossed her ankles, and gave her usual prompt.
"Gimmee four words."
-
Thomas sat on the floor, head resting on the bed's edge.
"Sacred, flush, board, crown," he drawled. Ha, good luck with that.
And the song about mole people suddenly became a game of cards in Frankie's head. Hey, she'd take whatever she could get!
Creeeeeak~
-
Thom jolted, head swinging up.
"What the hell was that."
Frankie just shrugged.
"It's a duplex. Someone probably opened a door."
-
Thom scowled, settling back against the bed.
"One day we'll live in a glamorous trailer on the outskirts of town with twenty cats," he said tartly. "And we won't have to share it with any ********' neighbors."
"Sounds good to me!"
Creeeeak Ping PING ping!
-
Thomas gave Frankie a dry look.
"...neighbors, huh?"
Now Frankie looked up.
"Okay, what the ******** music box just sat there innocently.
-
"If it explodes and kills me, you're paying for my funeral."
"Yeah. Okay."
The music box suddenly became a large trunk. There was no flicker of light, no slow sounds and obvious growth. It just suddenly...was!
And it hit Frankie in the head.
"WHAT THE ******** style="color: white">-
"FFFSHIT."
Thomas jumped up too late to stop it hitting Frankie in the head, but kicked it away from her as it tumbled to the floor.
"EVIL TRUNK. EVIL."
Frankie leaped to her feet and clutched her pad of sheet music to her chest. She had always lived in Gaia (and her life could never be considered 'average'), but here she was, scared to death of an exploding music box.
...she reached forward carefully, slowly...
...nope. Still wouldn't open.
-
"Don't touch it!"
So of course she touched it.
"...is...what just happened here?" Thom asked, mostly hypothetically. How the hell could anyone explain what had just happened? "Your noggin okay?"
Frankie was bleeding slightly, but the wound was nothing to worry about.
"I'm fine...but I dunno. I've heard of kids comin' outta these things, but I've heard about evil spirits too. I'm reminded of Pandora's box."
-
Bullshit, it was nothing to worry about. Thom dug an unlikely handkerchief out of his back pocket and pressed it against the injury to suppress it bleeding.
"Great," he said dryly at the observation. "Maybe you got stuck with the big fun Box o' Plagues. Syphilis and cholera and blowflies if we're lucky."
"Huh. All those prophylactics for naught." Hrm? She and Thom had certainly never...
"I'm fine. Really." She ignored that irritating little heart-twist that always came.
-
"Shut up and let me tend to the war-wound," Thom said patiently. "In any case, I vote you chuck that thing into the nearest river. Just a suggestion in case it decides to mutate into a giant ******** safe and drop on your spine."
"I'll lock it in the closet," Frankie shrugged, relenting on the head wound issue. Let him do what he wanted. The blood was slowing anyway.
"Whatever it is, it has my DNA. We're ******** style="color: white">-
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Posted: Wed Feb 25, 2009 11:27 am
o3 || A Terrifying Birth
Frankie had often wondered what it would be like to star in a real-life horror film. It always had seemed to distant and strange to her; how the baddies could suddenly appear or come back from the dead, or how so many people could see ghosts when, in reality, very few ever really had. It was more of a wavering curiosity than an actual desire to experience it, it always had been, but that apparently didn't stop fate.
After the whole mishap with the mysteriously growing music box, Frankie had indeed tried to shove the damnable thing into a closet. As it had grown so wide, she had to sit it on-end with the cleaning supplies. For two nights, things went as they always did and the trunk actually managed to escape her mind at times. On the third night, however, her horror movie began to emerge. She had spent the morning at dance class and the afternoon brainstorming on songs as she practiced routines, very much enjoying a high-energy day alone. After her late shower, she decided to go to bed and rest her aching muscles. As she shuffled into the room, though, her toe connected with her bed just a bit too early. Cussing, she reached for the foot board and...found that it was not there. Hm. She traced her steps back to the doorway and flipped the light switch to an 'on' position. The neighbors six blocks down would hear her shriek. The trunk had somehow gotten back up into her room and now sat at the foot of her bed. She tried to think logically, but nothing seemed to quite fit. Thom was just as frightened of that damnable thing as she was, if not more. He wouldn't have touched it...and either way, she'd been alone all day. The neighbors didn't even know of the trunk's existence, and it had been in her own kitchen anyway. Poor Frankie grabbed a bundle of blankets and pillows and decided to sleep in her studio that night.
When Frankie woke up the next morning, her arm was bent at a bizarre angle up and over her barre...or at least that was what she assumed in a sleepy haze. As consciousness crept over her, though, she realized that not only was she sleeping behind the barre, but it was far too high to be holding her arm. She turned her head slowly, fearing what she knew must be the truth, and shrieked again. The trunk had somehow made it down the stairs and beneath her arm without waking her. She frantically pushed the trunk against the far wall and bolted up the stairs to get ready for dance. She expected to see the trunk around every corner, every time she turned around, but she didn't see it. Still terrified, she fled her own house and ignored the neighbor's worried looks as she sped off in her leotard.
Frankie stayed late at class, feigning an inability to perform a scissor leap. She was able to successfully fail for nearly a half hour when the next class came in, a group of beginners. Frankie offered to stay and help her teacher, and the teacher agreed for that class...and the next...and the next. She nearly had to push Frankie out the door to get her to leave and 'get some rest'. Frankie drove home in the dark, nearly crying with fear of what she may find at home. She was going to throw that damnable thing out. No...no, she would bring it to the dump herself and watch the baler crunch the damnable thing to bits! She parked in the driveway and climbed the stairs, unlocking the door and opening it slowly. She expected to see the trunk there, waiting for her, but there was nothing. She turned on every light she passed on her way down to the studio to get the trunk and get it as far away from the house as she could.
To her surprise, the trunk was right where she had left it. Its glowing slits (eyes, she often thought) watched her as she slid down the stairs and hurriedly flicked on the light. The glow was no less ominous now. She shuffled over to the trunk, hugging herself, and snatched it up as if it may bite. Trembling, she began back up the stairs.
It was then that she heard the click.
A look down in her arms revealed that the trunk (previously completely locked and shut) had unlatched itself and was beginning to force itself open with an luminous creak. The girl screamed and dropped the trunk to the ground, beginning to sob. The trunk landed on its lid, but still continued to force itself open, reminding her of some awful bug crawling from its chrysalis. The innards glowed red and redder. Frankie sobbed when, much to her horror, the box began to laugh like a small child. It echoed, doubled over itself, and taunted her terribly. Her knees gave out and she collapsed to the floor, ready for the worst...
...and then, as suddenly as it had began, the trunk ceased moving. The glow stopped as if someone had turned off a light, and the giggling was no longer frightening, but rather quite real, and then ceased itself. Heart thumping, Frankie crawled over in a defensive stance. A little hand reached out to her. She sat and watched, expecting it to mutate or grow or reach out and pull her into the Hell within the trunk. When it did nothing, she hazarded a glance within. There was a little boy in the trunk...a laughing little boy. Head tilted, Frankie reached in and pulled him out, resting him in her lap. The boy looked up at her, blinking innocently.
"You're one scary little b*****d," Frankie said, sniffling and wiping her eyes. She was used to the idea of eventually finding a child somewhere. That was how most people on Gaia got their children, after all. The toddler just wiggled his pointer finger, almost as if waving. Frankie laughed slightly.
"Danny's not here, Mrs. Torrance," she groaned. The baby giggled briefly, but then stopped suddenly. What an odd little thing...
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Posted: Thu Apr 30, 2009 10:14 am
o4 || Dear Diary...
So the band is officially over. I mean, I knew it would happen sooner or later, but I didn't think it would be because one of us suddenly had a kid. God knows neither of us can get laid to save our lives. Either way, Takashi is null because I need to find a goddamn job that pays. It's depressing as ********, but right now I have more important things to worry about, like the little kid currently trying to remove the pedal from my bass drum. I started looking, but with the economy as ******** as it is I can't really say I'm into any of the jobs offered. I could probably get okay benefits if I started working at the Stop and Shop, and I'd definitely need it after blowing my brains against a wall. The kid's cute and all, but I have no earthly idea what to do with him. I'm hoping the journal will help. Son of a b***h, he got it off.
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