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 Posted: Sat Jan 02, 2016 11:04 am
s o l o Shell Flute (1544 words)
Shelley groaned. Saturday mornings were like a breath of fresh air to the redhead—no a*****e of a father to bother her, no b***h of a stepmother to get under her skin. It was a day where she could enjoy a cup of tea in the morning, eat whatever she wanted throughout the day, and even practice her flute while indoors for a change. Unfortunately, she awoke to a sour taste in her mouth, a pounding in her temples, and Philomena—her father's best friend's daughter—spooning her with the heat of her breath tickling her jowl.
It was another one of those mornings. <******** felt a swell of anger within her bosom that provoked her to jerk her arm back and elbow Philomena in the ribs. The blonde choked with a pained snort and rolled away from her with a start. It took her a moment to collect her bearings and, as she studied the figure of the naked teen in front of her wearing a none too pleased expression, she registered just how mad her little inamorata was. She pushed herself up to sitting, Shelley doing the same, and shrugged a shoulder at her.
"What?" she said, pushing tangled locks out of her face. "Don't look at me like that—you came on to me last night." She gave a hum come a satisfied stretch and hopped off the bed to slip on her shirt. Looking over her shoulder, Philomena added, "Don't get your panties in a bunch, Elle. It's not like the first time we did this."
Shelley knew she was right; their actions of the day before were as vivid and crisp as an image on a television screen. She could replay their little tryst from beginning to end; from the time Philomena forced herself in with two six packs and brownies to the time Shelley drunkenly grabbed her hand and dragged her to her bedroom. Going at it with the twenty year old wasn't her idea of fun on a Friday night. She only came on to the teen when there was something she wanted, acting like sex was the greatest bargaining tool in the world. Shelley wasn't having it.
After throwing on her own clothes, she marched passed Phi and into the kitchen. She immediately got to work on making a pot of coffee; she would've preferred tea, but the haze from her hangover had her swimming the tides between consciousness and dream. More than that, Shelley hoped putting her mind to something would prevent her from outright murdering Philomena where she stood. That didn't last long, though.
"Y'know, Ellie, dear," Phi said in a singsong tone as she sashayed into the kitchen. She leaned against counter and eyed Shelley's back; the redhead's hackles raising on end as she felt her anger surge again. "I wanted to ask you about something... A little loan, that's all. Just some money to get me something I want. That shouldn't be too much to ask, right, sweetie? You said you can ask your papa for anything, so how's about doing a girl a solid, hmm?"
Shelley didn't readily answer her. Pouting a bit, Philomena neared her, and touched a hand on her forearm. "Didn't you hear me, Ellie? It's not too much to ask, right?"
Suddenly, Shelley flung around holding the coffee carafe above her. Her hand trembled as her anger pushed her to bring it down a few times on the blonde's head while her sensibilities persuaded her she didn't have the necessary items for cleaning up a murder scene. Giving in to them, she flashed Phi a heated glare and shoved the carafe into the coffeemaker before turning it on. Philomena, who had shuffled back at the silent threat provoked by the teen, tried to segue into her casual demeanor again by studying her nails even though her heart was thumping a mile a minute.
After another lengthy moment, Shelley finally said, "No."
Philomena gave an offended huff. "What?" she said. "After all I've done for you? I thought we had a little something going on between us, Shelley." Again, trying to work up the charm, Phi closed the distance between her and the redhead. Hesitantly, she cupped a hand on Shelley's downcast face and pulled it up to hers. "You mean the world to me, sweetie, and I know I can be a little rough around the edges, but I really think I have something special going on with you. Can't you do this one little thing for me, please? It's just a thousand dollars. One G. That's like pocket change to your papa." She gently slid her hand along Shelley's jowl and rested it on her chest. "That's really not too much to ask."
Shelley, whose face was blank of expression, turned into a frown. "You're so full of s**t," she said sharply. "Do you know that? You use the same <********> tactic every single time you want something from me. It only worked the first time because I was an idiot. Not again, Phi. If you know what's good for you, you'll get the <********> out of my house before I start something."
"Oh, Elle. Ellie, dear, I ******** leave."
Philomena didn't have to be told twice. At once, like a dog that was scolded, the blonde scrambled back to Shelley's room, dressed herself, and shot out the front door without a goodbye. The redhead braced herself against the counter and, when she felt Phi was long gone, collapsed onto the kitchen floor with a tremble. She wasn't used to getting so angry; forcing a cheerful facade in the past whenever she felt that part of her on the rise. Her fist pounded the linoleum a few times to disperse the ones she wanted to land on the blonde until the coffeemaker dinged. Stumbling to her feet, Shelley took her coffee black and returned to her bedroom. Swallowing in mouthfuls and reveling in the numbing burn each drink left in the base of her throat, Shelley found herself at a loss.
Is this what my life has come down to? she thought to herself as she stared up at the ceiling. Being used as a bridge between my father and money? Is that all that I am? She let out a sigh. If Phi hadn't been so blunt about her intentions, I might have actually believed her. That I was special to her. It'd make me feel like I had some purpose for a change.
Her eyes landed on her flute when she said this. Placing her mug of coffee on the bedside table, she rose and approached the music stand it was rested on. Gliding a hand along its polished surface, she said, "I used to be so happy playing you. What happened? Oh, right, dad. "There's no way you're gonna make it that far," he said when I told him I wanted to do music professionally. He killed my dream. My only dream." Shelley withdrew her hand and dangled it to her side. "The hell do I have now? Nothing. Absolutely nothing." Tears pooled at the side of her eyes. "There has to be something more to me. Something. I-I know there is. But I..."
I know there isn't.
Shelley backpedaled to the bed and slumped down into it. She quietly sobbed into her hands, feeling as hopeless as ever. Suddenly, there was a flash before her eyes. The redhead slowly slid her hands away and stared on in marvel at the odd item floating in front of her. Closer inspection revealed it to be a peachy colored shell—Shelley didn't know what kind, though she guessed it to be a conch since it was the only one she knew. It had small holes drilled into it, as if it were a flute, though it was more piccolo-sized. She thought it was a trick of the light or some odd prank by Phi—even scooting over to the window to see if the blonde was pulling a fast one on her. Instead, all she saw was the typical traffic flow of Destiny City.
Returning to her spot, Shelley continued to stare at the shell at a loss of what to do with it. The light teal glow that radiated from it seemed almost warm and, as if provoked by it alone, the redhead took the chance and reached a hand out to it. As soon as her fingertip touched its smooth surface, the teal light consumed her entire form.
Shelley suppressed a scream as she was blinded for a mere second. After a blink, the redhead found herself sitting where she had always been, her right hand clutching the shell. An odd flute-like melody, unlike any she's ever heard, played on in the back of her head. Looking to the shell, it was then Shelley realized she was in an outfit she certainly did not recognize. Spooked, Shelley let out a squawk and jumped back. The shell she held popped out of her hand and rolled under her bed. Clawing at her furled orange locks, she tried to sift through all of the confusion in her head.
"W-w-w-what's going on?" she stuttered. "Why am I in these clothes? What's with the song? Who... Who the heck is Slievenamon?!"
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Posted: Sat Jan 02, 2016 11:06 am
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Posted: Sat Jan 02, 2016 11:07 am
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Posted: Wed Jan 13, 2016 4:06 am
s o l o Something's Coming in the Air (1285 words)
Her new powers frightened her. Shelley would pace about the room, materializing and dismissing her shell flute at will; fingering the bottom of her lip as she debated whether to power up or not. She was still at a loss of what she was; the only thing that she knew was that her new identity was Slievenamon and the flute that appeared in front of her some days ago dressed her in a teal-colored ensemble. The song, however, was always with her. It played on and on every minute of the day to the point Shelley couldn't take it anymore. She just had to play it, but it never sounded right on her own flute. Shelley would finger the notes on her flute and then lightly blow into it—just loud enough to escape her father's sensitive ears—until she put together a sensible tune.
Frustrated, she sat her instrument on the edge of the music stand and shuffled through the multitude of music sheets, both blank and scribbled with notes, with a perturbed look on her face. I can't do it, she thought to herself. I just can't get it down right. Why? It isn't even that hard of a melody, but... It sounds so wrong when I play it.
Getting up, she dumped the used music sheets in the bin near her closet and began to pace again. As always, the melody nagged her with its gentle tune to the point she had to rub her temples. Figuring she could use a cup of tea to calm her nerves, she trudged toward the door, but an epiphany struck when she cupped her hand on the knob. What if I play it on the flute? The shell flute... I should be able to, right? She ran a thumb across her bottom lip again. It's worth a try.
Shutting her eyes, she called on the image of the small, swirled instrument before it appeared in front of her in a flash of teal light. For the first time since last week, she touched a hand upon it and a few seconds later, was dressed in the garb of Slievenamon. She studied the holes in the shell flute and wondered just what it would sound like. Deciding to give it a try, Slievenamon backpedaled to her bed, sat down, and covered three of the holes. Sucking in a breath, she blew out a note, and suddenly shivered at the shrill whistle from it. Before it happened, Slievenamon happened to look up, and that's when the hard stamping of feet occured.
"Damn it, Shelley, I told you I don't want you play that damn thing in the house!" Desmond shouted from his study on the third floor.
Slievenamon winced. "S-sorry, papa!" she cried aloud. "I'll leave! I'm, um, I'll go to the park. Sorry!"
Exiting her room, she crossed through the kitchen to reach the front door, but hesitated at the sound of the television in the living room. Oh crap! she cursed to herself. I thought Giselle was upstairs!
"Shelley, dear, is that you?" the maroon-haired woman called from her seat on the couch. "Are you going somewhere?"
Slievenamon glanced down at her clothing. I can't let her see me in this!
"N-no, I'm not!" she replied. "Was just getting something to drink."
Opening and closing the refrigerator to emphasize this, Shelley trotted back to her room and sat back down on her bed with a bounce. "Crap, what am I going to do...?" she said aloud. "I can't just walk out in front of her like this, but if I don't..." The melody her head was louder than ever. "This darn thing is going to bother me until I play it! Letting out a sigh, Slievenamon dragged her eyes around the room, and an idea struck her when they landed on her room's window.
"There's an idea..."
Shoving it open, Slievenamon stared down at the quiet street of Destiny City before her. Glancing to the horizon, she also saw the park just a few blocks away. Unfortunately, it was a two story drop to the small space between her house and the next, and the redhead wasn't looking forward to the fall. Instead, she eyed the fire escape to the building before her and figured, with a good jump, she'd make it. Her heels would've made it a tad difficult, but she was willing to take the chance. Slowly but surely, Slievenamon inched her way through the window, and then stretched a leg over in the direction of the fire escape. Unfortunately, she miscalculated the distance, and her right foot still on the window sill slipped. Slievenamon was sent tumbling to the alley below, just barely keeping a scream in.
Slievenamon thought she had met her death when she landed. However, when she opened her eyes, she was laying sideways with a harsh throb in her side. "W-what in the world...?" she said aloud when she pushed herself up to sitting. "I should've died, why in the world..." Before she could spare another thought, the song broke it, and Slievenamon let out a sigh. "It must be because of... this," she said with a harrumph. "There's something weird going on here, but to be honest, I'm not too surprised I survived." The pain, too much on her, caused her to release her hold on her flute. It and her attire materialized to back from whence it came. She groaned afterwards.
"Why didn't I just do that and go out the front door like a normal person?" she said as she stumbled to her feet and dusted off bits of dirt and stone from her clothing. "I'll just walk to the park from here, I guess."
At the park, Shelley powered up in the thickets. Wanting no one to see her in her odd attire, she scrambled up into a tree (which she found to be much easier than first expected—these was much more to these powers than she realized) and sat on a branch. Finally, without anymore delay, she put the tip of the shell flute to her lips and blew again. This time, the note wasn't a shrill sounding thing, but more gentle and soothing. It was followed by another, and then another. As if on instinct alone, Slievenamon played the song in her head, and the music that flowed through was euphoric; as if the melody had waited thousands of thousands of years to be played again.
When she finished, there was a glisten to her eyes, and with it a thumping of nostalgia. Slievenamon didn't understand why, but she wanted to cry. Wiping her eyes, she took a breath, but for some reason or another, the feeling hadn't diminished. It took the page a moment to realize that there was something else tugging at the back of her head. She had mistaken it for the desire to play, but not with that want satisfied, it bust through and tugged her in all directions. Suddenly, the page found herself climbing skyward, and poked her head out above the canopy of trees to stare at the setting sun. Yes, it was a beautiful sight, but she couldn't take the time to marvel in its beauty this second damned feeling overcoming her.
"What is this, what is this..." she muttered over and over, running a thumb across her bottom lip. "This is different. I don't know why but this is... I have to find out what this is. I have to."
The learner in her pushed through and, suddenly, Slievenamon dropped from the treetops. Except this time, she landed with a bounding step on her feet, as she chased this new mystery that had formed before her.
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Posted: Sat Jan 16, 2016 11:15 pm
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Posted: Sun Jan 24, 2016 10:10 pm
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Posted: Sat Feb 06, 2016 3:13 pm
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Posted: Sat Feb 06, 2016 3:49 pm
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Posted: Sat Feb 06, 2016 3:51 pm
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Posted: Tue Feb 09, 2016 11:49 pm
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Posted: Thu Feb 11, 2016 12:08 am
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Posted: Sat Feb 13, 2016 4:32 am
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Posted: Mon Feb 15, 2016 5:27 am
s o l o Her (2427 words)
"Dad, who's my real mother?"
Unless it was Thursday, Desmond preferred to stay in his study. However, when Giselle demanded his company to watch Pets Do the Wackiest Things!, he had no choice but to give up an hour on the couch for lukewarm comedy if animals doing, well, wacky things. So when their time together was so rudely interrupted by Shelley's sudden interjection during a scene where a chimpanzee picked his nose under a prerecorded laugh track, Giselle's face twisted to one of disgust.
"Shelley, we're watching something," Giselle snapped. "Leave your father alone."
"But—"
"Don't you have homework or something? Or flute practice? Go."
Giselle made a shooing motion for her to leave, disappointed to miss a chihuahua in a tutu, before Desmond shushed her. Quietening obediently, Giselle watched her husband exchange glances with his daughter.
"What was that?" he said.
"I said... I want to know who my real mother is."
The man knew the topic would spring from Shelley's lips eventually, but that didn't stop him from reacting with terseness. He didn't like to be reminded of mistakes from the past—even if there was one living under his roof.
"Who she is isn't important. As far as I am concerned, you've never had a mother."
"Dad..."
"So I don't know what put ideas in your mind, but she isn't important. Drop the thought."
"But dad—!"
"Did you hear me?" Desmond seemed to shout, registering a moment late that he was now on his feet. The television filled the silence from his daughter with childish ooh's and ahh's as a dolphin did flips. "You don't need to know about your mother."
Shelley did not back down. In fact, she closed the distance between her and her father until she was staring up at him ingratiatingly.
"I have a right to know," she said. "She's my mother, I've grown up without her. I want to know who she is."
Her audacity caused Desmond to grab a fistful of her pajama top in his hand and pull her up to his face in an intimidating leer. Shelley tried to hold her own against him, but stumbled on her toes barely touching the ground.
Giselle, expecting the worst, pulled herself up from the couch and cried, "Desmond, stop! Don't do anything to her!"
"Giselle, she's testing me. I have a right to be a father to her."
"Shelley, just stop this," Giselle said. "Just... go to your room. Desmond, let's just go back to watching TV, okay?"
Shelley broke up her confrontation with her father by pushing him off. Takng a deep inhale as she could breathe freely again, she sneered at her father before turning on her heel and marching back to her room.
*
The following day, Giselle knocked on the door to Shelley's room. When she got no verbal reply permitting her in, she cracked the door a bit, and saw the redhead turn away from her while reading (or pretending to read) a book.
"Shelley? Hey... Shelley?"
The girl did not answer her.
"Look, I know you're upset about yesterday, but your father... Well... He means well. But to make amends, here"—Giselle stuck her arm in through the crack presenting a folded blue dress—"I wanted you to have this."
Still, when Shelley didn't regard her, Giselle quietly slipped into her room and placed the dress on the edge of her bed. After exiting, Shelley turned and glared at the door, and then the dress.
Making amends? Shelley thought angrily. It's like you're making me out to be the bad guy! Screw you!
Shelley picked up the dress and flung it at the adjacent wall to assuage her anger. When she did this, the blue dress unfurled, and a sheet of paper swayed to the ground when it hit the wall. Curiously, Shelley crept to the edge of the bed and picked it up. There, scrawled in Giselle's elegant cursive, was a foreign name: Songhee Im.
It was a hunch, and a hunch alone, but the girl thought that was her mother's name.
*
Shelley perused the phone book with great voracity trying to find the name within, but her attempt came to no avail. The closest she got was a person with the same last name: Hyo-rin Im. Against her hesitation, Shelley used her cell to dial their number, and felt her heart jump at the first ring.
"Hello?"
The voice on the other end held an accent, rolling the L's and making them sound like R's. It confused Shelley for a second, but she pressed forward. "Um, hi... Is this, um, H-Hyo-rin Im?"
There was a small pause from the voice on the other end. "Yes... Yes, it is Hyo-rin. Who is calling? How can I help you?"
"Erm, Hyo-rin... I mean, Miss Im, I... I wanted to talk to, erm, I'd like to talk to someone. Her name is... Songhee Im. Is she around? I have... just a few questions for her."
The pause on the other end was longer than before, to the point Shelley thought the woman had hung up the phone. "Miss Im?" she said.
There was a small croak before Hyo-rin said, "I am... sorry, but my daughter, Songhee, is... She is not around anymore. She died... several years ago. Songhee did not have many close friends, so you must not have heard. My apologies."
Shelley's chest felt heavy upon hearing that. Swallowing thickly, she replied, "It's okay, ma'am. You don't have to apologize. But I do have some things to ask. Did your daughter... Did Songhee have a child? A girl?"
There was a small gasp on the other end of the phone and sputtering as the woman tried to say something in return. "Oh God..." Hyo-rin said, her words slightly muffled from covering her mouth with her hand. "Do not tell me you are—"
"Y-yes, ma'am," Shelley said. "I think... I am your granddaughter."
*
The bus ride to downtown Destiny City was a long and bumpy journey. As Shelley watched the expensive homes belonging to higher-income families segue into dilapidated, graffiti-ridden structures, she thought it would've been quicker if she powered up as Slievenamon and just scaled buildings to get to Hyo-rin's home. Unfortunately, taking the risk was easier said than done—especially in broad daylight. Still, she never expected to be invited by her supposed grandmother after revealing who she was, but it seemed Hyo-rin desperately wanted to meet her in person. Likewise, though Shelley didn't want to readily admit it, so did she if it meant finding out how her mother had died.
Shelley exited the bus at the stop and walked the rest of the way to Hyo-rin's home. She had used Google Earth to catch a glimpse of the house's exterior, but now that she was standing before it, could see that years or weathering and toil had taken its toll on it. Rain had eaten away at the exterior leaving the turquoise paint cracked and peeled in several locations. The front yard, though not much in size, looked as though it would've flourished with a bright, verdant garden in the spring or summer if it wasn't in the dead middle of winter. Opening the small gate at the end of a cement paved lane, Shelley walked up the front steps and then came upon the door to the house. With another deep gulp, she rang the doorbell twice, and then shoved her hand back into her jacket pocket to protect it from the icy cold air.
Shelley could hear an excited shuffle from beyond the door as slippers clapped against quickened feet. Several locks were turned and, when the knock was twisted, the redhead held her breath. Slowly, the image of a short, stout woman dressed in a floral-patterned mumu stepped into view. Her black locks, streaked with thick patches of grey, were pulled back in a loose bun while bright purple eyes looked on into her aqua ones. Shelley backed away a step should Hyo-rin also push the screen door to allow her entrance, but she seemed to hover at the door and stare beyond it to her granddaughter without any movement. It unnerved Shelley and Hyo-rin, realizing what she was doing, finally beckoned her inside and opened the second door to her.
"I hope you did not have trouble getting here?" Hyo-rin said. "It is very cold today and I am sorry I asked you come visit me, but I am leaving for South Korea soon and could not have asked you any later to do so."
Shelley hummed. She did use Google to find the origins of Hyo-rin and her mother's names as well, but confirming that they were Korean from her grandmother just sealed the deal. "It's okay, really. Are you going for a visit or something?"
As Shelley peeled off her coat, Hyo-rin obliged her and slipped it from her arms. Hanging it on the coat rack at the door, she shook her head. "I am going back to live. My sister is sick and I am the only one who can care for her." Her tone sounded regretful, but Shelley didn't press the issue. Instead, she took note of the boxes of things by the door, and realized that her timing couldn't have been better.
"Come, let us move to the living room. We have much to discuss."
Hyo-rin led her down the hallway to a living room brimming with more boxes like the ones she saw by the entrance. Seating herself on the moth-eaten beige sofa there, she watched her grandmother shuffle away to the kitchen, and then to a room beyond it, and then return to the living room with a tray of drinks in one hand and a small chest tucked under her other arm.
Watching her settle down a glass of orange juice in front of her, she pipped up with, "I don't think I ever told you my name, did I? It's—"
"I know what it is already," Hyo-rin said. "It is Shelley, yes?"
Shelley was taken aback a bit. "How did..." she began, but Hyo-rin popped the lock on the chest and withdrew a copy of her birth certificate.
Handing it to her, Hyo-rin said when she took the seat next to the redhead, "Songhee kept many things about you. This is just one of them." Following it came a sonogram printout, pictures of Shelley as a newborn infant, and one that drew a gasp from Shelley—her mother holding her to her breast while propped up in a hospital bed. She traced her face and held back tears; she looked just like her mother despite having her father's hair and eyes.
"Please, tell me what happened to her," Shelley said, almost pleaded. "For years I've wondered who my mother is and only now am I getting answers. What was she like? Why did I grow up without her? How... did she die?"
Hyo-rin bowed her head and pursed her lips as if searching her thoughts for where to begin. Gently, she took the photo of Songhee from Shelley and stared into it ruefully. "Songhee was in a relationship with your father in high school. They were very much in love and I could not be happier for them. That was... until she got pregnant... with you." Hyo-rin shut her eyes tight and tears pearled in the corners. "I told her she could not keep you; if she did, she would have to find somewhere else to live. I should not have said that, I know I should not have, but I thought my daughter was throwing her life away by having a baby. She was still only a baby herself. Songhee did not want to put you up for adoption and begged your father to take you. He did and, afterward, seemed to cut off Songhee from ever seeing you again. I thought it was for the best. Out of sight, out of mind as they say.
"Songhee was fine for a while after high school, but things soon got bad. She would sleep a lot and hardly ate. I was worried, but I thought it was only because she had to prepare to go to college soon. She was going to live on campus, so of course it would be a big change. She went missing a week before she had to move out to school... I was frantic and searched everywhere for her. Called the police, pleaded to neighbors... No one saw her. They found her a few days later... She had... They think she threw herself off a bridge and drowned because of how fast the river was. I did not believe them at first, but..." Hyo-rin reached into the chest again and withdrew a diary. "It seemed that Songhee had a lot of troubles in her. It is all in there... I just noticed too late."
Hyo-rin gave a heavy sigh, flipped the diary open, and presented it to Shelley quick enough so she didn't have a chance to glance at its depressing contents. The redhead took it from her and skimmed across entry after entry detailing her mother's slow descent into depression.
"But before all of that, Songhee was a wonderful girl. She had such a smile... It could light up a room. I regret many things in life, but none so much as having lost my daughter."
"I-I'm sorry," was the only thing Shelley could say. "This must've been hard to talk about, but thank you so much for telling me all of this, Miss Im... No... Grandma, thank you."
This provoked tears from Hyo-rin and they streamed down her wrinkled cheeks. Gently, she cupped Shelley's chin in her hand and smiled. "It makes me sad that I had to meet you so late," she said. "You look so much like Songhee it is like looking into a mirror. Thank you, too... Meeting you again, grown up and healthy, is just one of the regrets I can forgive myself for. Here—" Hyo-rin picked up the chest and placed it in Shelley's lap—"This should belong to you. I hope it can give you just a piece of the mother you did not have a chance to know."
Shelley's lips pulled back into a sad smile. "Thank you, grandma. Thank you..."
When Shelley got up to leave, she exchanged a tight embrace with the grandmother she'd probably not see again. With the chest tucked under her arm, she descended the steps of Hyo-rin's home and walked the rest of the way to the bus stop.
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Posted: Mon Feb 15, 2016 11:04 pm
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Posted: Thu Feb 18, 2016 8:19 am
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