|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2011 12:20 am
Robert Morris was not a good man.
He spent his mornings working out his aggression at the gym. His afternoons were usually a drag of on and off construction work, depending on whether or not he’d been fired from the job site yet. His evenings were always spent bar hopping, despite his young age. No one ever questioned you when you were as tough as the bouncer. No one had the guts. Besides, he brought them business. Robert was a show all on his own.
And what a show he was. He had been a driving force in his drama club, back in high school. It was his only vice, and he spent years getting ribbed by his fellow football teammates for it. He would have probably been beaten up for it as well, if he wasn’t the tackle.
Robert always did the beating, not the other way around.
It wasn’t always this way. He wasn’t always so quick to temper, to throw a punch. In fact, if anyone had ever known Robert before high school, they wouldn’t have recognized him. The rough, angry boy that grew into a rough, angry man had once been a scared little boy looking for a hand to hold in the darkness.
He simply wished he’d reached out for a different hand.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2011 12:20 am
The weeds grew taller than him out in the fields behind the house. He was hiding in them, running through them, lying in wait underneath them. The grasslands were his playground, and he was a mighty lion, looking for his prey. He stalked the tall weeds, quietly toddling along. Sometimes he gave up the ruse of a lion, and ran headfirst through the weeds until they started to make his face itch. Then he planted himself on the floor and laughed, and laughed.
No prey would ever come near him now. He didn’t care - he was an adventurer, not a lion. Looking for ruins of an old civilization. Maybe spiders would come crawling out of the eyes of a stone monkey statue. He started slapping his skin, as if he could feel them crawling all over him, and giggled.
Robert was six years old.
He heard the sound of rustling nearby, and his laughter caught in his throat. SAVAGES! They would find him and skin him and eat his heart! He had to run away before-
“Is someone there?”
That was the first time he ever heard her voice. She was a tiny thing, emerging from the weeds with her dress covered in filth from running in the woods, and those big, round eyes looked as though they almost didn’t fit in her face.
Roberta Walker was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire six years of life. And he’d seen some cool stuff.
She took him to one of her hideaways, that night. They heard their family searching for them, but they giggled and ignored the cries. Huddled up underneath a brown tarp, they watched the fireflies flutter through the air, and pointed out every time they were sure one of them was not a firefly at all, but a fairy come to try and steal them away. The shadows turned into pincers, snapping at her dress, and he wrapped his little arms around her and kept her safe the whole night. When the shadows came for him, he felt her tiny hand slide into his, and he knew he could face any fear.
They saw so many things. So many wondrous, unbelievable things. No one would ever believe them, they knew that much. The magic in the shadows was their secret to hold, theirs to treasure. They wouldn’t share it with a soul but each other.
Roberta Walker was Robert’s best friend in the entire world.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2011 12:21 am
He remembered hearing her scream, late one night when his father told him to take out the garbage. He dropped the bag in a heartbeat, jumping off the stairs into a sprint as he headed for her voice. The garbage scattered and spilled all over the porch.
Robert was twelve years old.
“Berta? Berta where are you?!” He knew her scream had come from the fields, but they were too thick from neglect now - and the cloud covered moon refused to light his way. His footsteps pounded in the dirt, never stopping even when he had lost track of where he was. Finally, he heard that whimper and swiveled in place, bolting forward. The weeds were so high that he almost tripped over her when he found her, but he just barely stopped in time to drop to his knees and cover her in his arms.
“Shh, Berta, it’s me. It’s Robert. What’s wrong? Why are you out here all alone?”
A sniffle, and then- “I’m not alone.”
Robert’s awkward, pre-teen body tensed up as he took a slow look around. He could hear voices in the wind that whistled through the weeds.
“But you never come out here without me. Why-”
He heard another scream. This time, he knew it wasn’t his imagination. He picked Roberta up in his arms and lunged forward, looking for the other screamer. Was it a ghost? Had that frightened the poor girl out here in the dark?
It had never scared her before.
Finally, Robert found a girl curled up on herself just outside the weed fields. She was rocking back and forth, humming to herself. He knew the tune - You Are My Sunshine. He sang it to Roberta whenever she got scared. It wasn’t often.
He’d sung it to her sister, as well. Petra sat on the ground, staring up at Robert and her sister in his arms.
“I saw something moving.” Petra whispered up at them, and Robert moved to sit down beside her.
“What do you think you’re doing out here, Pet? You know it’s scary. You shouldn’t-”
The girl went from frightened to huffy in less than a heartbeat. “’m not scared!”
Robert barked out a laugh, and she relaxed beside him. “You ARE scared, and you definitely shouldn’t be out here. Did you follow ‘Berta?”
The little girl in his arms hadn’t said a word this entire time. She lifted her head, finally, and sniffled again. “I’m sorry, Petra.”
The exchange baffled the boy, and he looked from one sister to another. When neither looked like they would explain, he finally piped up with a confused; “What now?”
Robert would never get an answer to his question.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2011 12:22 am
“What’s his name?”
“Robert!”
Robert stared at the calico kitten in his best friend’s hand, mewling away as it struggled to right itself from the position it was being held in. “You named your kitten after me?” He asked, looking more than a little unhappy about it. “Why’d you go and do that?”
“So I could always have you around, of course!”
Robert looked up at her, and grimaced. “You DO always have me around.” He countered.
“Well,” She hedged, as she brought the kitten to her chest and snuggled it fiercely. “When we move to Arizona, I won’t. So, I needed something to make up for it, you know?”
Robert Morris was thirteen years old the first time Roberta Walker broke his heart.
There was a stunned silence, followed by a hollow, cracked laugh, followed by even more silence. Roberta finally managed to look up at the boy for his reaction, and cringed. His entire face was red, and he looked like he’d been hit by a car.
“You’re LEAVING ME?”
“Oh come on, I don’t have a choice here. Don’t do that. Don’t look at me like I just told you I never want to see you again!”
“But you WON’T see me again!” At this point, Robert looked about as red as a tomato. His eyes were rimmed with color, threatening to let the waterworks fall. They widened in shock when her response was nothing but a laugh.
“I’ll come back and visit. Lots! This isn’t the end of the world, you know.”
But for him, it was.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2011 12:23 am
“I can’t believe we’re doing this!” She screamed, waving her hand out of the window of the speeding car as they flew down the highway. “Aren’t you going to get in trouble?”
Robert had one hand on the wheel of his Chevy Roadrunner, and the other around Roberta’s seat. He was grinning like a cheshire cat. He hadn’t seen his best friend in two years, and this was the day she decided to show up at his doorstep.
Robert was sixteen years old, and today was his little sister’s birthday.
“Nah, it’s fine.” He brushed it off, ignoring the little voice of regret in his head. He had his Roberta back. That was all that mattered. They drove for hours, with no real destination. Just away. They stopped at a ratty little hole in the wall burger joint, and ate greasy burgers while sitting on the hood of his car. “Don’t get her dirty,“ He warned. “She’s my one true love.“
Roberta slid her greasy hands all down the flame decal covered hood. She poked at every gunshot hole decal she could find, and all he could do was laugh.
When they finally came home the next day, he dropped Roberta off at the hotel, and came home to apologize to his sister. The moment he walked through the door, a hefty book slammed into his face, breaking his nose. He didn’t know whether to be angry at her, or proud at what a strong arm she had. He spent the rest of the day trying to make it up to her. He even offered to read the book to her, the way he had when she was just a little thing, too young to read on her own.
Poe Morris did not forgive that easily.
And when he drove by the hotel to pick up Roberta that night, he found her already gone. His hands gripped the steering wheel, and it creaked as it threatened to break. His car drove off the road, right into the field they’d played in as children, and he plowed down all of the tall weeds. If he saw something, out of the corner of his eye, his wheel swerved in that direction to run it over. Eventually, there was nothing left, and he found the only thing at the corner of his eyes were tears.
It was the first day Robert began to despise the dark.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2011 12:24 am
“BAAAAHAHAHA! HA!”
The room was pitch black. Couples huddled together, nestled in each others arms for comfort. The movie had been acclaimed as this years top thriller, and two people had already walked out of the theater from fright.
Four others had walked out because of the raucous, inappropriate laughter from the boy sitting in the back row.
Robert shook his popcorn box at the screen, howling in amusement. The group of teenagers in front of him were showered in greasy snacks once again. “THASSA JOKE, COME ON! LOOK AT HOW FAKE THAT LOOKS!” One of the guys in front of him turned to make a nasty comment, and swallowed his words when he saw the size of the boy. Instead, they decided to move.
“Come ON, that’s not real blood. This movie is s**t. All of you who are scared of this s**t, are s**t.”
“Hey, buddy, if you hate it so much why don’t you leave?” Someone called out from the front left rows. Robert shook his popcorn in that direction. “WHO SAID I HATED IT?” He yelled out. “I came for a good laugh, and man, I am getting one.”
Robert Morris was seventeen years old, and he had become a major douchebag.
After being gently escorted out of the theater, Robert flipped his collar up and prepared to leave. He felt the gentle tug of a female’s hand at his elbow, and turned to see a pretty little thing staring up at him. Her face was bright, sun-kissed, and her eyes looked so familiar. A slow, predatory grin kissed his features.
“Well hello there, sunshine. What can I do for you this evening?” He held his arm out gallantly, and to his surprise, she took it. She was looking right through him. It was unsettling. “Walk me home, Robert.” She answered, shocking him to the bone. Her eyes may have only looked familiar, but her voice was unmistakable. She sounded too much like her.
“Holy s**t.” Robert whistled low, releasing Petra only to twirl her around. “Look at what you’ve grown into.” His head tilted to one side, exaggerating his appreciation. “Very nice.” In a moment, his sleazy façade dropped, and his face broke out into a huge grin as he collected her up in his arms and held her several feet off the ground.
“Pet!” He laughed, bouncing her in his arms. “Where the hell did you come from, you beautiful thing?”
She told him all about coming back home from boarding school. He told her all about his secret love for musicals. And together, they reminisced about their childhood while sitting on the hood of his car, drinking Starbucks coffees and watching the sun creep up from the horizon.
Petra and Robert weren’t a match made in heaven. They weren’t even much of a match. But they worked. They worked so well, that Robert was a little surprised to realize he’d managed to fall in love. It just wasn’t his style - but there he was, molding his life around this one, bright ray of sunshine that had become the most important thing in his life- well, almost.
And oh, did they love to fight. The sounds of their arguments could be heard through their entire apartment complex - not that they were any quieter about making up.
One thing, above all, kept them holding on.
They both refused to give in to the dark.
Robert had spent his time walking down dark alleyways on purpose, just to laugh. He felt the cold chills, and his heart clenched with fear - but he just laughed. His efforts doubled when Petra became involved. He wanted to be what she needed - that laughter in the darkness. He wanted to be as strong and fearless as he made himself out to be. He was always such a good actor. He was a one-man show.
He was going to be on Broadway, one day. He just knew it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2011 12:24 am
The letter sat on his lap, folded neatly into itself. He sat there and stared at it. He could still see the header on the top, proudly displaying Juilliard’s logo, and the first two lines of the letter itself.
Dear Robert Morris;
We are pleased to congratulate you on being accepted into one of the most prestigious-
Juilliard.
He’d gone through several trials and interviews. It had nearly depleted the family petty cash funds just sending him to New York to do them. And now.. that little piece of paper was telling him they wanted him.
Him. Juilliard wanted him to dance for them.
He’d never even dared to hope that he would be accepted. The school was overpriced, and he was just a small town nobody.
..congratulate you on being accepted..
How would he even pay for it? No, there was no question. If it meant working every spare moment and never sleeping again, Robert was determined to find a way to pay for it. This was it. This was everything. This was -
He had to tell Petra. He knew, deep down, that she would get accepted into Cornell. Sure, it meant a little distance - but New York was New York, right? They’d be in the same state - and he’d be well on his way to Broadway. He’d be a ******** star, that’s what.
He hadn’t even called her. He left his car in his driveway, and ran out of his door to run to her house - but she was already there, tying her horse up and flying into his arms.
It wasn’t Cornell. It wasn’t anywhere near New York. And she looked more excited than he’d ever seen her before. She was glowing. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life. He picked her up in his arms, and spun her around until he was dizzy, then he carried her inside, dropping his own letter crumpled in the trashcan on his porch.
Petra would never let him go alone into the dark. So neither would he.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2011 12:26 am
Robert finally moved away from his home town, steeped heavily in it’s forgotten magic and dusty memories, to live in a tiny apartment in the city by Petra’s college. He woke up every morning, and wrapped his arms around his ray of sunshine, scaring her nightmares away with his laugh. Money was tight, but they didn’t seem to care. Robert knew he’d make good on his promise to take care of her soon, and she believed him. Until then, he was her rock, and she was the sun that kept him out of the shadows.
The day he’d turned eighteen, an acquaintance he’d met at a local hangout found him a job at a construction site. The money was good, the work was hard, and it kept his mind off of things. Up on the steel girders of a 20 story building, the world looked so small. Shadows were nowhere to be seen. Best of all, there were no voices in the wind. There was a solace, a peace to be had this high up, where you knew a bad wind could send you flying to your death. He was untouchable, up there.
But, every night, he eventually had to come down. His co-workers were all older, grizzled men, and soon he’d taken up the habit of following them into the bars and drinking the nights away. Alcohol had become as powerful of a distraction as his work was - and it was easier to laugh into those alleyways when you couldn’t see straight. Half the time, he was just laughing at himself. He would come home, barely coherent, and those nights would be the worst. He was watching his relationship crumble at his own hand, and every night he felt his precious ray of sunshine slowly slipping away.
---
The memories were coming slower, now. He didn’t want to remember anymore. Not this. He’d rather be back on the island, than this. Please. Someone, anyone, make it stop.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2011 12:27 am
Robert had been so determined to be her rock. It was everything he thought he needed, until all of his walls finally crumbled at his feet, leaving him a scared, little boy again. Alone.
She’d left him.
The apartment was a wreck. She’d taken everything that was hers, stuffed it into their one, ragged green suitcase, and left.
No note.
No messages on the voicemail.
She was just gone.
“I can tell this isn’t a good time, but.”
Robert heard the voice, coming from his fire escape, and he picked up a chair and flung it without thinking. It went wide, crashing into the wall and splintering into a dozen pieces. The hooded figure hadn’t so much as flinched - though he took a moment to look at the damage once it was done.
“Okay, this really isn’t a good time. I get that. I’m on a schedule here, though. Sorry.”
“Who the ******** are you?” Robert roared, and he could swear the sound rippled the edges of black around the man’s hidden face.
The black-clad figure adjusted his sleeve idly, before turning back to Robert. “Someone with all the answers.”
He didn’t stay long. Robert wasn’t in the mood to believe in what he had to say, but he’d done his job, regardless. Once he’d explained that Robert had a choice, a part to play in the fight he’d always refused to acknowledge, he left.
And once again, Robert was left alone in the dark. This time, however, he’d been put on alert. His skin crawled with fear. They relished it. He could tell, and it only made him angrier. He’d promised, promised himself, promised Petra, promised Roberta..
Roberta.
He stormed out.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2011 12:27 am
He found her living in a precious little apartment three hundred miles away. He had driven all night, only stopping for a necessary pit stop. The drive had started intoxicated, but by the time he’d veered into the garage, he could tell he was sober. He popped a tic-tac, smelled under his arms (and practically fainted), then marched to her door.
When she opened it, he felt the world shift just a little to his right. When he stepped in, he swore he could feel the softness of dirt under his boots. When he hugged her, he swore he could smell the tall grass in her hair.
She was home, to him. She was everything he’d left behind, and in her arms rested the scared little boy whose hand she’d once held in the darkness. He shook in her embrace. It was so embarrassing. She asked him what was wrong, but he didn’t tell her. He just pulled away, so he could watch the fireflies dance in her eyes.
“Why did you have to leave me, Roberta?” A hushed voice finally asked the question that had been tearing at his heart since the first time she’d left, and was ripped fresh every time she’d visited and left him again. She had no answer for the pain in his eyes, and she tried to pull away, but his arms made it impossible. He hardly moved when she squirmed. He just waited.
“Why, ‘Berta. Why couldn’t you have loved me the way I loved you?”
She stilled in his arms. His eyes were too crazed from drinking her in to notice her reaction.
“Would it have been so bad, ‘Berta? Was I really so repulsive, that you just stopped-”
“You made her happy, Robert.”
His eyes cleared, and focused on the girl in his arms. She was crying. Why was she crying? What had he done?
“I would have made you happy.”
She laughed through her tears, a choked sound, and nodded. “Yeah.” She agreed flippantly. “It serves me right.”
His arms went slack, and she backed away. When she looked up at him, he looked as though she’d just slapped him in the face. He was absolutely dumbfounded. Robert was never quick to see the obvious, but just this once..
Just this once, it hit him like a ton of bricks.
“You love me.”
She looked horrified. He took it as confirmation, and before he knew what he was doing, three long strides had him collecting her forcefully in his arms, crushing her against him.
“Robert, stop-”
“You love me.”
“I won’t do this to-”
His lips crushed against hers, and met with no resistance. There was the tiniest of sighs, and her lips parted - oh God, they parted, and let him in. How could he have been so blind? She wanted this as much as he did. All this time, all this wasted-
Roberta pulled away, and slapped him with her tiny hand clear across his right cheek. It left a stinging red mark in the shape of her hand, and his own pressed against it, almost lovingly. He didn’t know whether to laugh, or to cry.
“I think you should leave.” A tiny, shaking voice told him.
He stood his ground.
She pointed at the door.
He snatched the hand out of the air and kissed it.
Her other hand slapped him across the left cheek.
He grabbed the wrist before she could pull away, and held her against him.
“You. Love. Me.”
“Get out, before I call the police.” She was trying so hard to sound strong. Angry. Uncaring. It was precious.
Still holding both of her hands, he leaned in, and she leaned away. There was only so far she could go, and even as she turned her head, his lips pressed against her cheek. They brushed down the jaw. They pressed against her lips once more, and he felt nothing.
Her eyes blazed with fire. It killed all of the fireflies in it‘s wake.
His hands released her, and she stumbled back. She looked from the phone, to him, as if threatening - and that brief moment of happiness he’d finally felt fluttered away.
He felt the shadows closing in on him. He watched them pass her by, coming for him this time. She did nothing to stop them. She didn’t reach out for his hand, they way she once did.
Roberta was leaving him in the dark one final time.
It was the last time Robert ever saw her beautiful face.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 25, 2011 12:28 am
He was lying in a puddle. How had he gotten here? The memories were almost gone, now. He could tell by how hard it was to focus on that moment, or anything that had gotten him to it. It was raining - he could remember that. He had seen Petra. What did she say..? She asked him something.. something about loving her more than..
He didn’t want to remember this one. He refused. He tried to push it away, as if ignoring the memory of Petra’s face could shield him from the pain of reliving it. He’d ruined everything. He knew that much - and so did the figure standing in the rain above him, untouched by the droplets as they cascaded down from the sky. He could barely hear the words now, promises of revenge, of a new life, of a new chance. He only asked one question.
“Will I remember?”
“Do you want to?”
Red rimmed eyes tilted up to look at the figure dressed in black. The answer was obvious, but he shook his head nonetheless.
“None of it? Not even-”
“Especially not them.”
The reaper held out his hand. Robert had taken it, hadn’t he? That night, in the dark alley filled with shadows. He didn’t fear them anymore. There was only one thing he feared now.
Himself.
Robert Morris was not a good man.
But maybe, just maybe, A7 was.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun May 01, 2011 12:05 am
It's dark, and it's cold. You think your breath would form a mist upon the air if you can see it. Breathing in, you can taste the delicate tang of salt on your tongue. "Hey." Perhaps the hissing you hear isn't the wind, but water? "Hey." Now that you notice it, you also note that the pungant stench of salt emanates from the wet cavern walls.
But... you can't see anything. Your world is a void abyss, blacker than the darkest night within the deepest hole in the earth. "Hey!" But something is... off. If you were dead, you wouldn't be able to feel anything or smell anything. But if you were alive, you should be able to see. Right? It's as if you we- "HEYLOOKLISTENSTOPIGNORINGME!" - askfjasklfdjlsf.
"Hey you! You're going to die if you just sit there and agonize like that! Quit yer cue-cues and grab your weapon to do some pew-pews!"
Your weapon? You think you remember it. Now if only you could reach out, and grab it once more...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun May 01, 2011 12:27 am
Give me the beat boys, and free my soul. I wanna get lost in your rock and roll, and drift awa-
"HOLY ********' s**t WHAT!"
Robert felt something like his heart leaping into his chest when something terrible yelled at him. He wanted to thrash and kick his way out of .. whatever he'd found himself in, but all he could do was think. That loud, annoying, terrible voice had told him to grab his weapon.
His weapon?
He couldn't quite manage to grab his crotch, for some odd reason. Maybe that wasn't what the voice had meant, so his hand reached out instead. All he could think of was - Long. Hard. Sharp. Wait.. sharp? What the hell?
There was nothing. No, that was wrong.. there was something in his hand. It was long, and sharp, and shiny.. well damn, maybe he had managed to make a real weapon, after all. His fingers gripped hard on the hilt, as he grasped it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun May 01, 2011 12:42 am
It was indeed long and hard. The shaft of it was thicker than he remembered, but it still felt reassuring and warm in his grasp. Then it started to vibrate. It still felt... right as it shifted in your hand, twisting and turning into an overcompensating weapon. At least it was still shiny and sharp, just like you remembered it. Thankfully it didn't have a knob on its end, or it would be... quite the conversation starter. ((Please head over to THE COVE thread HERE, READ THE PROMPT CLOSELY, and post a response to it. Thank you and congratulations! ))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
