That semi-fallacy of living. Pushing with so much effort.
I charge on, gasping for air, burning my body to nothing.
The tiny little annoyances in my ears bring me into the zone. My comfort, my pain, my skill, shivers in my spine. My hands clench. I can feel my back tighten, my legs seize.
and here we go
I sit recovering. Worn. Beaten.
And that hellacious beep.
It wont stop.
But then.
It doesn't have to.
Because the world does.
Sometimes it's nice to remember what living is like.
:)
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Doug: Do ya?
“You ever get that feeling?” he asked, cocking his head in an odd direction, eyes focused far away, as if they saw something no one else in the room could see.
“That feeling, that, well, you just want to strangle EVERYONE around you?” a hint of life comes back to the eyes. But it is not life in the way normal people think of life. There is no hope here, nor friendship, or kinship, or any of those other ships. The life in these eyes is sort of a manic glee, a horrible joy that sends shivers and chills down your spine.
He refocuses, swinging his head around the room. “Strangling someone is really satisfying. It’s so personal. All you have to do is grab the windpipe and squeeze.” His voice changes with the last word, deeper, huskier, putting a lot of emphasis on it. “Too bad it’s not really a spectator sport.”
“There are other satisfying things too. Like baseball bats… and crow bars. You gotta love the solid sound that makes when it hits something soft on the outside but with a crunchy center. Like an arm. Or a leg. Or a skull. I love the hollow sounds skulls make.” He has gotten up from his reclined position, and is prancing around the room, feet carefully avoiding dark red puddles.
“I’m not sure what I love best. The tactile feelings, or the lovely sounds.” He frowns. “But nothing that comes out of the mouth. No one ever has anything USEFUL to say… It’s all: Please no! or threats.” The frown deepens. “Or they invoke some god or another…”
Finally, a shrug and the smile returns. “Oh well, no one ever comes to help out.” He looks over to a huddled form in the corner. Wrists tied, head cast down, shaking uncontrollably.
“You ever get that feeling?” The Philosopher sidled up to the Prisoner smiling uncomfortably. “Do ya?”
The Prisoner looks up, catches sight of the other bodies tied to the wall all around the room and vomits on the Philosopher’s bare feet. His grin widens.
“I liked those shoes.”
“No.” the Prisoner manages to choke out through the bile.
“No what?” The Philosopher is examining his feet bare feet. “I really liked these shoes.”
“No. I never get that urge.” The Prisoner looks up, bile dripping from the grim line that is his mouth. One eyeball is gone, and his features are hard to distinguish under the swelling. The look on his one eyed face is defiant though. “Just get it over with you sick bastard.”
“I’m not the sick one.” The Philosopher said, “You’re the one who vomits on people’s shoes.” He then formed his right hand into a scoop and grabbed the Prisoner’s long hair with his left hand. “I may pickle this one. I like the color.” The scooped hand plunges forward.
Screaming accompanied by a wet tearing sound.
The Philospher steps back, plugging his left ear with his free hand, the right holds something spherical and dripping. “Can’t you stop doing that? Ugh. This is why I hate forgetting the duct tape.”
The screaming just continued unabated. Finally, the Philosopher, quick as a snake, snapped his left hand out to the Prisoner’s neck and squeezed.
The screaming cut off, followed by the sounds of a scuffle as the Prisoner struggled against his bonds. Finally he quieted down just as the life was extinguished from his body. The Philosopher dropped the hand. “I was hoping to save you for a little bit longer…”
He sighed deeply, then looked down at the eyeball in his hand, the brown eye gazed back at him unblinkingly, almost quizzically.
“No one understands me.”
He tossed the eyeball at its former body and surveyed the gore spattered room. Eight bodies, four males and four females, all completely naked, all in various states of carnage, lined the walls. He took his time, looking at all of the individually, enjoying his masterpieces.
A half hour later, he splashed gasoline like a painter, struck a match with a flourish, and left.
“No one understands me.”
-Doug
"Torture mothafucka, torture."
Wu-Tang Clan
“That feeling, that, well, you just want to strangle EVERYONE around you?” a hint of life comes back to the eyes. But it is not life in the way normal people think of life. There is no hope here, nor friendship, or kinship, or any of those other ships. The life in these eyes is sort of a manic glee, a horrible joy that sends shivers and chills down your spine.
He refocuses, swinging his head around the room. “Strangling someone is really satisfying. It’s so personal. All you have to do is grab the windpipe and squeeze.” His voice changes with the last word, deeper, huskier, putting a lot of emphasis on it. “Too bad it’s not really a spectator sport.”
“There are other satisfying things too. Like baseball bats… and crow bars. You gotta love the solid sound that makes when it hits something soft on the outside but with a crunchy center. Like an arm. Or a leg. Or a skull. I love the hollow sounds skulls make.” He has gotten up from his reclined position, and is prancing around the room, feet carefully avoiding dark red puddles.
“I’m not sure what I love best. The tactile feelings, or the lovely sounds.” He frowns. “But nothing that comes out of the mouth. No one ever has anything USEFUL to say… It’s all: Please no! or threats.” The frown deepens. “Or they invoke some god or another…”
Finally, a shrug and the smile returns. “Oh well, no one ever comes to help out.” He looks over to a huddled form in the corner. Wrists tied, head cast down, shaking uncontrollably.
“You ever get that feeling?” The Philosopher sidled up to the Prisoner smiling uncomfortably. “Do ya?”
The Prisoner looks up, catches sight of the other bodies tied to the wall all around the room and vomits on the Philosopher’s bare feet. His grin widens.
“I liked those shoes.”
“No.” the Prisoner manages to choke out through the bile.
“No what?” The Philosopher is examining his feet bare feet. “I really liked these shoes.”
“No. I never get that urge.” The Prisoner looks up, bile dripping from the grim line that is his mouth. One eyeball is gone, and his features are hard to distinguish under the swelling. The look on his one eyed face is defiant though. “Just get it over with you sick bastard.”
“I’m not the sick one.” The Philosopher said, “You’re the one who vomits on people’s shoes.” He then formed his right hand into a scoop and grabbed the Prisoner’s long hair with his left hand. “I may pickle this one. I like the color.” The scooped hand plunges forward.
Screaming accompanied by a wet tearing sound.
The Philospher steps back, plugging his left ear with his free hand, the right holds something spherical and dripping. “Can’t you stop doing that? Ugh. This is why I hate forgetting the duct tape.”
The screaming just continued unabated. Finally, the Philosopher, quick as a snake, snapped his left hand out to the Prisoner’s neck and squeezed.
The screaming cut off, followed by the sounds of a scuffle as the Prisoner struggled against his bonds. Finally he quieted down just as the life was extinguished from his body. The Philosopher dropped the hand. “I was hoping to save you for a little bit longer…”
He sighed deeply, then looked down at the eyeball in his hand, the brown eye gazed back at him unblinkingly, almost quizzically.
“No one understands me.”
He tossed the eyeball at its former body and surveyed the gore spattered room. Eight bodies, four males and four females, all completely naked, all in various states of carnage, lined the walls. He took his time, looking at all of the individually, enjoying his masterpieces.
A half hour later, he splashed gasoline like a painter, struck a match with a flourish, and left.
“No one understands me.”
-Doug
"Torture mothafucka, torture."
Wu-Tang Clan
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Meghan: Hell?
She stretched the muscles in her hands and arms elegantly, light gleaming off of her skin in a slippery glow.
“One more time?”
The girl she was addressing hung limply on a wall, suspended by coarse rope. She spat out a mouthful of blood in reply, “Go to hell.”
The glowing girl danced with laughter, heartbreakingly beautiful and a sharp contrast to the other; battered, broken, and bleeding.
“But Anabelle, we’re already there.”
“Don’t call me that.”
The glowing girl drew her fist back as if to strike her and Anabelle flinched away, but she just reached forward to stroke her cheek.
“You’d prefer I call you that blunted name, Ana? You have a beautiful name, and I will use the whole thing.”
Anabelle’s jaw rippled in anger and the glowing creature kissed it.
“Mmm, I love the taste of rage.”
Quick as a snake, Anabelle’s head darted forward but her teeth only clicked on the empty air where the creature’s throat had been.
Smiling, the glowing thing grabbed her face in one of its hands and smashed her skull on the stone wall behind her. Anabelle gasped as pain burst in her head and eyes, feeling the barest trickle of blood running down her back.
Again, again, and again her head was bashed against the wall, while she could only choke and bleed, not even having the strength to pull at the bonds that held her upright.
Then the pounding stopped and she was left to hang while the thing looked at her, smiling.
“Don’t worry, you won’t die.”
She tried to fit her lips into an answer but words seemed like a faraway dream.
“Wh-who?”
“Who what?”
“You.”
“Who am I?” another bright laugh, “Darling, I should think that’s obvious?”
“Hell, you said. Hell?” Anabelle’s vision was starting to clear, “Are you the devil?”
“Hmmm…well I wouldn’t say that’s an incorrect statement. The religious symbols are so hard to keep track of these days…”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Well—“
“Why am I here, I don’t understand! Why—“
Anabelle froze as the devil’s fist flew at her face again. This time it didn’t stop and she closed her eyes and prepared for pain. But when she opened her eyes she saw the being’s fist buried in the wall next to her head, stuck to the wrist.
“If you could just wait.” She said softly, “I will tell you.”
Anabelle swallowed and the thing extracted its hand from the stone.
“You’re here because it’s what you want, love.”
Anabelle’s mouth worked in confusion and horror, unable to reply.
The devil slid her arms around the girl’s waist, “You were such a good girl, weren’t you? Always helping people. And then your life on earth ended protecting the life of another. Such a sacrifice is not taken lightly here, and we are prepared to give you your worth in happiness.”
“But that’s heaven,” spluttered Anabelle, “What you’re talking about isn’t hell.”
“Oh.” The glowing thing looked around the room, “Perhaps I mixed up my words. Your religions are very confusing.”
“This can’t be heaven.” Anabelle argued.
“Why not?”
She half laughed, half cried, “Then you’d be an angel?”
“I suppose so.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Why?”
“Heaven is supposed to be full of happy things, not pain and…” she looked away
“Pain is not happy?”
“No.”
The angel slapped her across the face and the sting of it rippled through her mind.
She gripped Anabelle’s jaw in her hand and raised her face to meet her eyes, “You can lie to yourself all that you want Ana, but don’t you dare lie to me. I can see into your soul, you are my charge and this is your heaven, whether you like it or not.”
Anabelle panted and stared into the flaming eyes of her captor, “Call me Anabelle.”
The angel smiled,
And drew back her fist.
-Meghan
“One more time?”
The girl she was addressing hung limply on a wall, suspended by coarse rope. She spat out a mouthful of blood in reply, “Go to hell.”
The glowing girl danced with laughter, heartbreakingly beautiful and a sharp contrast to the other; battered, broken, and bleeding.
“But Anabelle, we’re already there.”
“Don’t call me that.”
The glowing girl drew her fist back as if to strike her and Anabelle flinched away, but she just reached forward to stroke her cheek.
“You’d prefer I call you that blunted name, Ana? You have a beautiful name, and I will use the whole thing.”
Anabelle’s jaw rippled in anger and the glowing creature kissed it.
“Mmm, I love the taste of rage.”
Quick as a snake, Anabelle’s head darted forward but her teeth only clicked on the empty air where the creature’s throat had been.
Smiling, the glowing thing grabbed her face in one of its hands and smashed her skull on the stone wall behind her. Anabelle gasped as pain burst in her head and eyes, feeling the barest trickle of blood running down her back.
Again, again, and again her head was bashed against the wall, while she could only choke and bleed, not even having the strength to pull at the bonds that held her upright.
Then the pounding stopped and she was left to hang while the thing looked at her, smiling.
“Don’t worry, you won’t die.”
She tried to fit her lips into an answer but words seemed like a faraway dream.
“Wh-who?”
“Who what?”
“You.”
“Who am I?” another bright laugh, “Darling, I should think that’s obvious?”
“Hell, you said. Hell?” Anabelle’s vision was starting to clear, “Are you the devil?”
“Hmmm…well I wouldn’t say that’s an incorrect statement. The religious symbols are so hard to keep track of these days…”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Well—“
“Why am I here, I don’t understand! Why—“
Anabelle froze as the devil’s fist flew at her face again. This time it didn’t stop and she closed her eyes and prepared for pain. But when she opened her eyes she saw the being’s fist buried in the wall next to her head, stuck to the wrist.
“If you could just wait.” She said softly, “I will tell you.”
Anabelle swallowed and the thing extracted its hand from the stone.
“You’re here because it’s what you want, love.”
Anabelle’s mouth worked in confusion and horror, unable to reply.
The devil slid her arms around the girl’s waist, “You were such a good girl, weren’t you? Always helping people. And then your life on earth ended protecting the life of another. Such a sacrifice is not taken lightly here, and we are prepared to give you your worth in happiness.”
“But that’s heaven,” spluttered Anabelle, “What you’re talking about isn’t hell.”
“Oh.” The glowing thing looked around the room, “Perhaps I mixed up my words. Your religions are very confusing.”
“This can’t be heaven.” Anabelle argued.
“Why not?”
She half laughed, half cried, “Then you’d be an angel?”
“I suppose so.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Why?”
“Heaven is supposed to be full of happy things, not pain and…” she looked away
“Pain is not happy?”
“No.”
The angel slapped her across the face and the sting of it rippled through her mind.
She gripped Anabelle’s jaw in her hand and raised her face to meet her eyes, “You can lie to yourself all that you want Ana, but don’t you dare lie to me. I can see into your soul, you are my charge and this is your heaven, whether you like it or not.”
Anabelle panted and stared into the flaming eyes of her captor, “Call me Anabelle.”
The angel smiled,
And drew back her fist.
-Meghan
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Sarah: Find it On Your Own
The sun set on the city of Albuquerque, in the way it does to turn the Sandia mountains a soft shade of pink against the dimming deep blue sky. Down at the Century Rio 24 Theatre everyone from young children to lovers to seniors entered and left, as the movies played. Around the city middle-aged men were in for another late night at the office. Cars milled about the road in a way that makes the city look like a well oiled machine ready for a break. Mothers and children walked home from the park. Tables were set for dinner. Grade schoolers returned home from grabbing a Keva, or Starbucks, or playing video games, with their friends. It was dusk.
Jasmine sat on the bed in her apartment. With her cat constantly acting as a distraction, she attempted to read and work on homework. Another Dawson's Creek episode played across her computer screen. Then she ate, fed Loki, chatted online with loved ones, and fell asleep.
Across town, Abe sat behind the counter of a Fedex Office store. He texted his girlfriend while they both worked. A regular was using the internet. He looked up from the quiet desk, while laminating a few cards. A customer came in for copies and to ship a package. He tended to him like he tended to all the other customers. As the man left, he could see Abe through the window, laminating and texting.
Sirens wailed; it was a typical busy night. At least that's what Sarah figured from inside her cozy gated apartment. After hanging out with her boyfriend, she decided to shove off homework and watch an episode of Veronica Mars. Three episodes later, her quiet roommate told her that she was going to bed. Sarah stayed awake, watching.
Somewhere, thousands of miles from the city, Meghan was fast asleep with her cat. Raleigh, N.C., although a busy city, became a quiet and still as the sun fell. Meghan has an important exam the next day. Books were spread across the floor along with an empty cup of tea and a tea pot. In a few hours, she will wake up, study, and head to class pencil in hand.
On the opposite side of the country, Douglas stands in the kitchen of his apartment. The rain is pouring in Seattle. He is hungry. Like most college students, he pulled some noodles from his cabinet, boiled them, and opened the Prego. He thought of his mother's cooking briefly, then finished off a bowl of easily made spaghetti and marinara. His roommates were in the living room watching a movie, trying to relax after the rainy, albeit, busy day.
As each of these five actively or passively lives their lives, the end of the day for each of them signals only one more day passed and one more day to come. The setting sun holds no promises, no opportunity, no fate, and no large significance. These, they will have to find on their own.
Jasmine sat on the bed in her apartment. With her cat constantly acting as a distraction, she attempted to read and work on homework. Another Dawson's Creek episode played across her computer screen. Then she ate, fed Loki, chatted online with loved ones, and fell asleep.
Across town, Abe sat behind the counter of a Fedex Office store. He texted his girlfriend while they both worked. A regular was using the internet. He looked up from the quiet desk, while laminating a few cards. A customer came in for copies and to ship a package. He tended to him like he tended to all the other customers. As the man left, he could see Abe through the window, laminating and texting.
Sirens wailed; it was a typical busy night. At least that's what Sarah figured from inside her cozy gated apartment. After hanging out with her boyfriend, she decided to shove off homework and watch an episode of Veronica Mars. Three episodes later, her quiet roommate told her that she was going to bed. Sarah stayed awake, watching.
Somewhere, thousands of miles from the city, Meghan was fast asleep with her cat. Raleigh, N.C., although a busy city, became a quiet and still as the sun fell. Meghan has an important exam the next day. Books were spread across the floor along with an empty cup of tea and a tea pot. In a few hours, she will wake up, study, and head to class pencil in hand.
On the opposite side of the country, Douglas stands in the kitchen of his apartment. The rain is pouring in Seattle. He is hungry. Like most college students, he pulled some noodles from his cabinet, boiled them, and opened the Prego. He thought of his mother's cooking briefly, then finished off a bowl of easily made spaghetti and marinara. His roommates were in the living room watching a movie, trying to relax after the rainy, albeit, busy day.
As each of these five actively or passively lives their lives, the end of the day for each of them signals only one more day passed and one more day to come. The setting sun holds no promises, no opportunity, no fate, and no large significance. These, they will have to find on their own.
Jasmine: Wolves
“WE ARE THE POINT! WE ARE THE EDGE! WE ARE THE WOLVES THAT HECATE FED!”
“Stop that”
“Why? The other team has a chant why shouldn’t we?”
“It’s a science Olympiad competition and they’re reciting pi…”
“Mine is better.”
“Yours is terrifying”
“exactly. Better”
“No not…”
“WE ARE THE POINT! WE ARE THE EDGE! WE ARE THE WOLVES THAT HECATE FED!”
“Why’d you do that again.”
“Archie took first in Robot Rumble”
“You shouldn’t do that.”
“But look he’s smiling at us.”
“That would be glaring… at you…”
“Naw”
“See all those other people glaring at us... right there”
“Yep”
“It’s a Christian academy”
“Yep”
“It’s our Christian academy”
“Yep”
“You don’t see anything wrong with this”
“WE ARE THE POINT! WE ARE THE EDGE! WE ARE THE WOLVES THAT HECATE FED!”
“There is no talking to you isn’t there”
“I think you guys are just hypocrites. The teachers preach to us about how we should be who we are and when I do just that you scold me for it”
“It’s not just the religious thing, we do try and keep kind of a low profile around here”
“Really because everyone I talked to here seemed to know”
“Who’d you talk to?”
“Relax. I didn’t tell anyone”
“Tell them what?”
“WE ARE THE POINT! WE ARE THE EDGE! WE ARE THE WOLVES THAT HECATE FED!”
“Stop that”
“Why? The other team has a chant why shouldn’t we?”
“It’s a science Olympiad competition and they’re reciting pi…”
“Mine is better.”
“Yours is terrifying”
“exactly. Better”
“No not…”
“WE ARE THE POINT! WE ARE THE EDGE! WE ARE THE WOLVES THAT HECATE FED!”
“Why’d you do that again.”
“Archie took first in Robot Rumble”
“You shouldn’t do that.”
“But look he’s smiling at us.”
“That would be glaring… at you…”
“Naw”
“See all those other people glaring at us... right there”
“Yep”
“It’s a Christian academy”
“Yep”
“It’s our Christian academy”
“Yep”
“You don’t see anything wrong with this”
“WE ARE THE POINT! WE ARE THE EDGE! WE ARE THE WOLVES THAT HECATE FED!”
“There is no talking to you isn’t there”
“I think you guys are just hypocrites. The teachers preach to us about how we should be who we are and when I do just that you scold me for it”
“It’s not just the religious thing, we do try and keep kind of a low profile around here”
“Really because everyone I talked to here seemed to know”
“Who’d you talk to?”
“Relax. I didn’t tell anyone”
“Tell them what?”
“WE ARE THE POINT! WE ARE THE EDGE! WE ARE THE WOLVES THAT HECATE FED!”
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Meghan: The curse of Heron Lake
Her eyes scanned over the computer screen as her fingers clicked through the endless online pages. She could feel her eyes glazing as the information shifted by. The sharp pinch of an insect bite flared in her neck and she slapped her hand at it. Another hand glided through her slapping fingers and her roommate kissed her on the head.
“You’ve been working forever,” the interrupter grumbled, “Don’t you need things like food and water occasionally?”
“What’s food?” the girl said as she continued clicking.
“If you die clenched to your keypad, eyes locked to the screen, I’m going to make fun of you forever.”
“Meghan, you know I have to finish these applications before school starts.”
“I know that, but school is weeks off, so you can take a break now.”
The girl at the computer sighed and frowned at the screen. It did look a little fuzzy; maybe she should take a break. She stretched and stood up from her chair, only to stagger and have to catch herself on the desk.
“Wha…?”
Meghan felt the pulse in her roommate’s wrist as she sat back down in the chair.
“Good, everything’s good.”
“Wha…you..?”
“Jasmine, I have something to tell you. No, I haven’t suddenly developed homicidal tendencies; don’t look at me like that. We’re going on a vacation!” She smiled at her angry, paralyzed roommate, “Aren’t you excited? Yes, I knew you would be. Don’t worry, everything’s packed, and I have everyone else, we just need to get down to the van.”
Jasmine could only twitch mildly in frustration as Meghan lifted her over her shoulder and carried her down the steps outside the apartment to the parking lot. She waved cheerily at the neighbors, who, used to the strange antics of the people next door, simply smiled and waved back. Jasmine’s last memory before she passed out was of three other vaguely people-like shapes seat-belted into the van with her, all with black bags over their heads.
Doug’s eyes felt heavy, almost as if their insides had been coated with lead and he had to drag his eyelids open. The first thing he saw was a bright patch of sunlight, making him groan and throw a hand over his face. He pulled the sleeping bag over his eyes to hide the burning light, but started when he felt the material in his hands. A sleeping bag? What the fuck? He tore open the bag and sat up, trying to hear and see everything at once. He had fallen asleep in his bed in Albuquerque only to wake up in some strange sleeping bag. He looked to his left and got another mini heart attack when he saw the girl twisted up in blankets next to him, blonde hair thrown over her face. For a millisecond he wondered at what terrifying amounts of alcohol had been somehow slipped to him secretively, but with a sigh of relief he smoothed back the hair from the girl’s face, recognizing Jasmine. He looked to his right and saw that the person curled up there was Meghan. He felt Jasmine stir under his fingers and kissed her.
“Good Morning.”
“Kill.”
“Ah…not the greeting I expected.”
Jasmine blinked her heavy lidded eyes, and tried to crawl over him to Meghan, “I’m going to kill her.”
He caught her still partially sedated body in his arms and held her back, “Wait, wait, bad dream?”
“No. She. Drugged. Me.”
“Meghan?” He laughed, “She wouldn’t do…that…” He glanced at her, “Probably.”
“Well she did. And now I’m going to kill her.”
While the battle was taking place on the other side of the tent, Meghan opened her eyes and stretched.
When the other two turned to her, she smiled and asked, “Did you sleep well?”
Doug blocked Jasmine’s flying tackle just in time, and asked over her death threats, “Do you know what’s going on?”
“Yes, we’re at Heron Lake.”
Doug and Jasmine both stopped struggling and stared at her.
“I thought we decided not to come this summer.” Jasmine asked in a puzzled voice.
“Yes.”
“And…We’re here anyway?”
“Yes.”
“Great. We’re doomed.”
“Yes.” Meghan clapped her hands together gleefully.
“Okay then, just one question.” Doug asked
“Yes?”
“Where are our clothes?”
But before Meghan could answer a glass-shattering scream echoed from outside from the tent. Without waiting to question it, the three grabbed what weapon they could find nearest and burst from the tent. Outside they found Abe dressed in what looked like an CRAZY Creek and a screaming Sarah, wrapped up in blankets. Doug and Jasmine both looked at Meghan
“It’s only fair if everyone’s naked.” She said happily.
“You have the strangest logic…” Doug muttered.
“But it makes sense—“
She was interrupted by Sarah’s fresh scream, and now that they were closer they could make out the words that were blasting,
“PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!!! WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES?!?! WHY AM I HERE!?! WHY IS EVERYONE NAKED!?!”
Followed by long lists of profanity.
Doug ran back to the open tent and grabbed an armful of blankets, throwing one at each of the naked folk until everyone was sufficiently covered enough for Sarah to calm down.
When the volume in the clearing had lowered, Meghan said, “It’s a vacation.”
Sarah looked at her, “What?”
“Heron Lake,” she waved a blanketed arm at the sparkling water that could be seen on the horizon, “we always come.”
“But we weren’t going to come this year.”
Doug cleared his throat, “We’ve already been through that.”
“So we’re doomed?”
“Yep.”
Abe narrowed his eyes and glared at Meghan, “I have just one question.” He stepped close, invading her personal space, “Realize that your very life may depend on your answer.”
Meghan bit her lip, “Okay…”
“Did you bring the canoe?”
“Yes. It’s by the lake.”
Abe smiled, “Okay. You can live.” He strode in the direction of the lake, calling over his shoulder, “See you around dinner time!”
“What about your clothes?” Doug called.
“Fuck clothes, I’ll get them later.”
“Well I want my clothes,” Sarah said turning to Meghan, “Well? Where are they?”
“In a tree.”
Jasmine sighed, “What tree? There are lots of trees.”
“Over there, I’ll take you.”
One by one the bundles of clothing were fished out of the tree and their owners covered once more until Sarah was the only one left wrapped in blankets.
“Where are my clothes Meghan?” She asked in a dangerously low voice.
Meghan sucked in her breathe and stared up at the tree, “The beast must have taken it.”
The other three looked at her, confused.
Deadly serious, she continued, “The mysterious beast that haunts the lakeside, it feasts upon abandoned clothes and then stalks its naked prey.”
The other three just looked at her.
“I’m serious! That’s what happened”
“So everyone has clothes but me? No way. Since you got us into this you should give me your clothes.” Sarah eyed Meghan’s garments prospectively.
Meghan wrapped her arms around herself and took a defensive posture, “No way, you’ll never take my clothes.”
Sarah smiled evilly, “You have to take them off sometime.”
“Never!”
Doug’s hands glided up her back as he kissed her, pulling her shirt up and over her head. Her back ground against the rough bark of the tree behind her as he pushed against her. She breathed in his rich scent and moaned softly as he worked her neck. Her gaze drifted down to the ground and she froze,
“Doug, where are my clothes?”
“What?” He asked, confused.
“My clothes, my…God Damn it.” She swore as she realized what had happened. Thinking quickly she pulled him in for a full kiss, “I appreciate your sacrifice.” She said seriously, laying a hand over his heart.
“My what?” But he was talking to air, she had disappeared and she had taken his clothes with her.
“GOD DAMN IT MEGHAN!”
Meghan confronted Sarah in front of the fire pit where Abe was kindling sparks and Jasmine was whittling sticks.
“So, you think you can attack me when I’m distracted, do you?”
Sarah raised an eyebrow, “I see you have clothes now.”
“Indeed I do.”
Jasmine offered her a poofy white shape from the bag in her lap, “Marshmallow?”
“Yay!” Meghan and Sarah both grabbed marshmallows and sat down in front of the soon-to-be fire.
Jasmine looked sidelong at Meghan, “Aren’t those Doug’s clothes?”
“Yes.”
“Soo… What’s Doug wearing?”
Meghan shrugged, “I don’t know.”
They both looked back at the campsite to see Doug walking around gathering firewood.
“Nothing, I guess.”
“Yep.”
“Sarah, don’t look behind you.” Meghan said, and patted her on the shoulder, “It will end badly.”
Meghan and Jasmine watched as Doug carried a load of wood to their fire. As he approached, he was intercepted by some girls from a neighboring camp. Meghan narrowed her eyes as she watched the girls laugh and giggle.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” She asked, turning to Jasmine.
Jasmine grinned ferally and handed her one of the spears that she had been sharpening, “Don’t break it,” she instructed, “I still want to use them to roast marshmallows.”
A newly dressed Meghan handed Doug his clothes back.
“Where did you get the clothes?” he asked, eyeing the huge tear above her heart and the subsequent bloody streaks.
“I found them.”
He pondered about whether to ask and decided against it, “Okay.”
Jasmine chopped up what looked vaguely like human body parts and tilted them into the group’s giant cooking pot.
Everyone ate well that night, and clothing abounded for all.
The end <3
-Meghan
“You’ve been working forever,” the interrupter grumbled, “Don’t you need things like food and water occasionally?”
“What’s food?” the girl said as she continued clicking.
“If you die clenched to your keypad, eyes locked to the screen, I’m going to make fun of you forever.”
“Meghan, you know I have to finish these applications before school starts.”
“I know that, but school is weeks off, so you can take a break now.”
The girl at the computer sighed and frowned at the screen. It did look a little fuzzy; maybe she should take a break. She stretched and stood up from her chair, only to stagger and have to catch herself on the desk.
“Wha…?”
Meghan felt the pulse in her roommate’s wrist as she sat back down in the chair.
“Good, everything’s good.”
“Wha…you..?”
“Jasmine, I have something to tell you. No, I haven’t suddenly developed homicidal tendencies; don’t look at me like that. We’re going on a vacation!” She smiled at her angry, paralyzed roommate, “Aren’t you excited? Yes, I knew you would be. Don’t worry, everything’s packed, and I have everyone else, we just need to get down to the van.”
Jasmine could only twitch mildly in frustration as Meghan lifted her over her shoulder and carried her down the steps outside the apartment to the parking lot. She waved cheerily at the neighbors, who, used to the strange antics of the people next door, simply smiled and waved back. Jasmine’s last memory before she passed out was of three other vaguely people-like shapes seat-belted into the van with her, all with black bags over their heads.
Doug’s eyes felt heavy, almost as if their insides had been coated with lead and he had to drag his eyelids open. The first thing he saw was a bright patch of sunlight, making him groan and throw a hand over his face. He pulled the sleeping bag over his eyes to hide the burning light, but started when he felt the material in his hands. A sleeping bag? What the fuck? He tore open the bag and sat up, trying to hear and see everything at once. He had fallen asleep in his bed in Albuquerque only to wake up in some strange sleeping bag. He looked to his left and got another mini heart attack when he saw the girl twisted up in blankets next to him, blonde hair thrown over her face. For a millisecond he wondered at what terrifying amounts of alcohol had been somehow slipped to him secretively, but with a sigh of relief he smoothed back the hair from the girl’s face, recognizing Jasmine. He looked to his right and saw that the person curled up there was Meghan. He felt Jasmine stir under his fingers and kissed her.
“Good Morning.”
“Kill.”
“Ah…not the greeting I expected.”
Jasmine blinked her heavy lidded eyes, and tried to crawl over him to Meghan, “I’m going to kill her.”
He caught her still partially sedated body in his arms and held her back, “Wait, wait, bad dream?”
“No. She. Drugged. Me.”
“Meghan?” He laughed, “She wouldn’t do…that…” He glanced at her, “Probably.”
“Well she did. And now I’m going to kill her.”
While the battle was taking place on the other side of the tent, Meghan opened her eyes and stretched.
When the other two turned to her, she smiled and asked, “Did you sleep well?”
Doug blocked Jasmine’s flying tackle just in time, and asked over her death threats, “Do you know what’s going on?”
“Yes, we’re at Heron Lake.”
Doug and Jasmine both stopped struggling and stared at her.
“I thought we decided not to come this summer.” Jasmine asked in a puzzled voice.
“Yes.”
“And…We’re here anyway?”
“Yes.”
“Great. We’re doomed.”
“Yes.” Meghan clapped her hands together gleefully.
“Okay then, just one question.” Doug asked
“Yes?”
“Where are our clothes?”
But before Meghan could answer a glass-shattering scream echoed from outside from the tent. Without waiting to question it, the three grabbed what weapon they could find nearest and burst from the tent. Outside they found Abe dressed in what looked like an CRAZY Creek and a screaming Sarah, wrapped up in blankets. Doug and Jasmine both looked at Meghan
“It’s only fair if everyone’s naked.” She said happily.
“You have the strangest logic…” Doug muttered.
“But it makes sense—“
She was interrupted by Sarah’s fresh scream, and now that they were closer they could make out the words that were blasting,
“PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!!! WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES?!?! WHY AM I HERE!?! WHY IS EVERYONE NAKED!?!”
Followed by long lists of profanity.
Doug ran back to the open tent and grabbed an armful of blankets, throwing one at each of the naked folk until everyone was sufficiently covered enough for Sarah to calm down.
When the volume in the clearing had lowered, Meghan said, “It’s a vacation.”
Sarah looked at her, “What?”
“Heron Lake,” she waved a blanketed arm at the sparkling water that could be seen on the horizon, “we always come.”
“But we weren’t going to come this year.”
Doug cleared his throat, “We’ve already been through that.”
“So we’re doomed?”
“Yep.”
Abe narrowed his eyes and glared at Meghan, “I have just one question.” He stepped close, invading her personal space, “Realize that your very life may depend on your answer.”
Meghan bit her lip, “Okay…”
“Did you bring the canoe?”
“Yes. It’s by the lake.”
Abe smiled, “Okay. You can live.” He strode in the direction of the lake, calling over his shoulder, “See you around dinner time!”
“What about your clothes?” Doug called.
“Fuck clothes, I’ll get them later.”
“Well I want my clothes,” Sarah said turning to Meghan, “Well? Where are they?”
“In a tree.”
Jasmine sighed, “What tree? There are lots of trees.”
“Over there, I’ll take you.”
One by one the bundles of clothing were fished out of the tree and their owners covered once more until Sarah was the only one left wrapped in blankets.
“Where are my clothes Meghan?” She asked in a dangerously low voice.
Meghan sucked in her breathe and stared up at the tree, “The beast must have taken it.”
The other three looked at her, confused.
Deadly serious, she continued, “The mysterious beast that haunts the lakeside, it feasts upon abandoned clothes and then stalks its naked prey.”
The other three just looked at her.
“I’m serious! That’s what happened”
“So everyone has clothes but me? No way. Since you got us into this you should give me your clothes.” Sarah eyed Meghan’s garments prospectively.
Meghan wrapped her arms around herself and took a defensive posture, “No way, you’ll never take my clothes.”
Sarah smiled evilly, “You have to take them off sometime.”
“Never!”
Doug’s hands glided up her back as he kissed her, pulling her shirt up and over her head. Her back ground against the rough bark of the tree behind her as he pushed against her. She breathed in his rich scent and moaned softly as he worked her neck. Her gaze drifted down to the ground and she froze,
“Doug, where are my clothes?”
“What?” He asked, confused.
“My clothes, my…God Damn it.” She swore as she realized what had happened. Thinking quickly she pulled him in for a full kiss, “I appreciate your sacrifice.” She said seriously, laying a hand over his heart.
“My what?” But he was talking to air, she had disappeared and she had taken his clothes with her.
“GOD DAMN IT MEGHAN!”
Meghan confronted Sarah in front of the fire pit where Abe was kindling sparks and Jasmine was whittling sticks.
“So, you think you can attack me when I’m distracted, do you?”
Sarah raised an eyebrow, “I see you have clothes now.”
“Indeed I do.”
Jasmine offered her a poofy white shape from the bag in her lap, “Marshmallow?”
“Yay!” Meghan and Sarah both grabbed marshmallows and sat down in front of the soon-to-be fire.
Jasmine looked sidelong at Meghan, “Aren’t those Doug’s clothes?”
“Yes.”
“Soo… What’s Doug wearing?”
Meghan shrugged, “I don’t know.”
They both looked back at the campsite to see Doug walking around gathering firewood.
“Nothing, I guess.”
“Yep.”
“Sarah, don’t look behind you.” Meghan said, and patted her on the shoulder, “It will end badly.”
Meghan and Jasmine watched as Doug carried a load of wood to their fire. As he approached, he was intercepted by some girls from a neighboring camp. Meghan narrowed her eyes as she watched the girls laugh and giggle.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” She asked, turning to Jasmine.
Jasmine grinned ferally and handed her one of the spears that she had been sharpening, “Don’t break it,” she instructed, “I still want to use them to roast marshmallows.”
A newly dressed Meghan handed Doug his clothes back.
“Where did you get the clothes?” he asked, eyeing the huge tear above her heart and the subsequent bloody streaks.
“I found them.”
He pondered about whether to ask and decided against it, “Okay.”
Jasmine chopped up what looked vaguely like human body parts and tilted them into the group’s giant cooking pot.
Everyone ate well that night, and clothing abounded for all.
The end <3
-Meghan
Friday, October 23, 2009
Sarah: ?
Keanu Reeves is playing Spike in the live action Hollywood Cowboy Beebop.
Oh,
And Beebop is a word from Jazz culture.
Oh, Charlie Parker.....
Sincerely,
Sarah
Oh,
And Beebop is a word from Jazz culture.
Oh, Charlie Parker.....
Sincerely,
Sarah
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Doug: Far Away
“I will live my life as a lobsterman’s wife…” the girl with hair the color of fire sang softly, her fingers moving deftly over the tempered steel, examining the complex machinery with her turquoise colored eyes, “He will take care of me, and we’ll live by the sea on our island in the blue bay…”
She sighed, brining the brush back the intricate combination of chrome and steel. “Still dirty.”
“That’ll happen.” Daniel muttered, his own fingers occupied with a small metal pin. “Try the smaller gage brush.” He pushed it over to her without taking his eyes off the pin. They flicked back and forth, scanning for the slightest imperfection. Mara smiled at his concentration, picking up the brush and returning to her scrubbing.
“He will smell like the sea, and he’ll take care of me on our island in the blue bay…”
Daniel ceased his examination of the pin and set it down on a white piece of cloth, picking up the long upper receiver of the rifle they were cleaning together. A quick glance down the barrel told him that Mara, his daughter, had cleaned it perfectly. Despite his pride at her attention to detail, it hardly surprised him; she had been cleaning rifles with him since she was six.
She put the wire brush down, wiped off the bolt carrier assembly and then examined it closely. After a moment, she handed it to him. He glanced it over, grunting his approval at the bright steel. “This looks good.”
“Don’t sound so surprised, Dad.” She took it back from him with a mock grimace. “I’ve been doing this for a while now.” She began to reassemble the rifle, humming a few bars before beginning to sing again: “I will bear three girls, all with strawberry curls, little Ella and Nelly and Faye…”
Daniel started as he recognized the song, fought to keep the tension out of his voice. Failed.
“Who taught you that?”
Mara pushed the two retaining pins holding the upper and lower receiver together home and then racked the charging handle to the rear, checking the barrel.
“Mom.” She frowned, “Kind of.”
Daniel heart hurt at the answer he had known was coming, but he kept his mouth shut.
Mara finished with her check of the assembled firearm and set it carefully down on the table, seemingly deep in thought.
“I keep having this dream.” She admitted, frown deepening. “In the dream, everything is kind of hazy and fuzzy, and there’s a distinct rocking motion. The one clear thing is Mom’s voice, and she’s singing that song.” Mara looked at Daniel. “I’ve never heard that song in my whole life.”
Daniel did not say anything for a very long time. Then: “Yes, you have.” His voice was very low, and more than a little choked. Still, he managed to smile as she looked at him. “Stay there.”
He got up and messed around with the vid player on the wall, accessing files who’s data said they hadn’t been opened in almost twelve years.
Mara sat obediently, a little confused. She was seventeen and remembered little of her mother’s losing fight with cancer ten years ago. Despite that, she didn’t need memories to feel the empty place deep in her chest when she thought of her mom.
Daniel had never remarried.
Finally, he found the file he was looking for. An image flashed on the screen and then turned into a video as he toggled the play button.
The image was of a woman with long blonde hair and light blue eyes holding a bundle and singing softly, staring at it with the utmost love and delight on her face.
“I will live my life as a lobsterman’s wife…”
“That’s mom!” Mara blurted the obvious, unable to tear her eyes from the screen.
“Yep.” Daniel said, a few tears leaking down his face. “She made this for me when I was deployed to Iran. The little bundle is you. You were about six months old.”
The recording finished, the woman on the screen gently placing the baby bundle into a crib then turning her face towards the camera. “We miss you, my love. I know I can’t ask you to be safe, but I am telling you to come home.” She pointed at the camera, mock serious and then broke into a smile. “Our daughter’s beautiful, she has your nose. I miss you so much.” She wiped a tear away and smiled “come back to me.” The smile froze as the recording ended.
Daniel smiled through his tears. Touched his fingers to the screen. “I miss you too.”
He stared at the screen a moment longer then turned to Mara. “Not a dream.”
“No.”
She threw her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder. He kissed the top of her strawberry curls. “She’d be so proud of you. I know I am.”
“I love you Dad.”
“I love you too, kiddo.”
-Doug
"Just open your eyes and see that life is beautiful."
-Sixx Am "Life is Beautiful"
She sighed, brining the brush back the intricate combination of chrome and steel. “Still dirty.”
“That’ll happen.” Daniel muttered, his own fingers occupied with a small metal pin. “Try the smaller gage brush.” He pushed it over to her without taking his eyes off the pin. They flicked back and forth, scanning for the slightest imperfection. Mara smiled at his concentration, picking up the brush and returning to her scrubbing.
“He will smell like the sea, and he’ll take care of me on our island in the blue bay…”
Daniel ceased his examination of the pin and set it down on a white piece of cloth, picking up the long upper receiver of the rifle they were cleaning together. A quick glance down the barrel told him that Mara, his daughter, had cleaned it perfectly. Despite his pride at her attention to detail, it hardly surprised him; she had been cleaning rifles with him since she was six.
She put the wire brush down, wiped off the bolt carrier assembly and then examined it closely. After a moment, she handed it to him. He glanced it over, grunting his approval at the bright steel. “This looks good.”
“Don’t sound so surprised, Dad.” She took it back from him with a mock grimace. “I’ve been doing this for a while now.” She began to reassemble the rifle, humming a few bars before beginning to sing again: “I will bear three girls, all with strawberry curls, little Ella and Nelly and Faye…”
Daniel started as he recognized the song, fought to keep the tension out of his voice. Failed.
“Who taught you that?”
Mara pushed the two retaining pins holding the upper and lower receiver together home and then racked the charging handle to the rear, checking the barrel.
“Mom.” She frowned, “Kind of.”
Daniel heart hurt at the answer he had known was coming, but he kept his mouth shut.
Mara finished with her check of the assembled firearm and set it carefully down on the table, seemingly deep in thought.
“I keep having this dream.” She admitted, frown deepening. “In the dream, everything is kind of hazy and fuzzy, and there’s a distinct rocking motion. The one clear thing is Mom’s voice, and she’s singing that song.” Mara looked at Daniel. “I’ve never heard that song in my whole life.”
Daniel did not say anything for a very long time. Then: “Yes, you have.” His voice was very low, and more than a little choked. Still, he managed to smile as she looked at him. “Stay there.”
He got up and messed around with the vid player on the wall, accessing files who’s data said they hadn’t been opened in almost twelve years.
Mara sat obediently, a little confused. She was seventeen and remembered little of her mother’s losing fight with cancer ten years ago. Despite that, she didn’t need memories to feel the empty place deep in her chest when she thought of her mom.
Daniel had never remarried.
Finally, he found the file he was looking for. An image flashed on the screen and then turned into a video as he toggled the play button.
The image was of a woman with long blonde hair and light blue eyes holding a bundle and singing softly, staring at it with the utmost love and delight on her face.
“I will live my life as a lobsterman’s wife…”
“That’s mom!” Mara blurted the obvious, unable to tear her eyes from the screen.
“Yep.” Daniel said, a few tears leaking down his face. “She made this for me when I was deployed to Iran. The little bundle is you. You were about six months old.”
The recording finished, the woman on the screen gently placing the baby bundle into a crib then turning her face towards the camera. “We miss you, my love. I know I can’t ask you to be safe, but I am telling you to come home.” She pointed at the camera, mock serious and then broke into a smile. “Our daughter’s beautiful, she has your nose. I miss you so much.” She wiped a tear away and smiled “come back to me.” The smile froze as the recording ended.
Daniel smiled through his tears. Touched his fingers to the screen. “I miss you too.”
He stared at the screen a moment longer then turned to Mara. “Not a dream.”
“No.”
She threw her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder. He kissed the top of her strawberry curls. “She’d be so proud of you. I know I am.”
“I love you Dad.”
“I love you too, kiddo.”
-Doug
"Just open your eyes and see that life is beautiful."
-Sixx Am "Life is Beautiful"
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Doug: Inshalla
No matter how old I get, no matter how tall I get, no matter how my opinions change or my goals, one thing that has always stayed the same for me is this: I love to watch the stars at night.
Watching the stars is like watching ancient history. What we see is light that is hundreds of millions of years old. What the stars look like right now is completely different to how they look to our eyes. Even relatively close celestial bodies take minutes, even days for their light to reach us. If the sun were to spontaneously explode in an outburst of light and glory, we wouldn’t know about it for seven whole minutes. Because the universal speed limit is that of the speed of light, time is constrained to that speed. We only know things at the speed of light, which, considering such vast distances and vast expanses that make up the universe, is pitiably slow.
I will never see the light that the Andromeda Galaxy is creating right now. I can only see a 2.5 MILLION year old snapshot.
I do not regret this, just as I do not regret gravity, or water flowing downhill. One cannot regret the will of God.
But how I wish I could bask in the glory of the Crab Nebulae; or sail among the rings of Saturn. How I wish I could just glimpse, for an instant, the light of a newly formed star.
Perhaps when I join the river.
Inshalla.
-Doug
“It means: “As God wills it.”
“I could get tired of that word.”
-The Sword of the Lady (2009)
Watching the stars is like watching ancient history. What we see is light that is hundreds of millions of years old. What the stars look like right now is completely different to how they look to our eyes. Even relatively close celestial bodies take minutes, even days for their light to reach us. If the sun were to spontaneously explode in an outburst of light and glory, we wouldn’t know about it for seven whole minutes. Because the universal speed limit is that of the speed of light, time is constrained to that speed. We only know things at the speed of light, which, considering such vast distances and vast expanses that make up the universe, is pitiably slow.
I will never see the light that the Andromeda Galaxy is creating right now. I can only see a 2.5 MILLION year old snapshot.
I do not regret this, just as I do not regret gravity, or water flowing downhill. One cannot regret the will of God.
But how I wish I could bask in the glory of the Crab Nebulae; or sail among the rings of Saturn. How I wish I could just glimpse, for an instant, the light of a newly formed star.
Perhaps when I join the river.
Inshalla.
-Doug
“It means: “As God wills it.”
“I could get tired of that word.”
-The Sword of the Lady (2009)
Meghan: Can you see?
This is the most perfect place.
You say that you know one better? You have never been to mine.
Every love, every terror, every experience can be found within its twisting corridors, and all that it takes to bring you where you want is a thought. Set your hands against the shifting walls of a castle and the stone will blend to grass, windows to sky, and cobwebs to stars. In the spaces of my mind I walk, never bored, never lonely, always safe.
“What?”
“That’s it.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Yes it does.”
“Ana, you’re crazy.”
Ana narrowed her eyes at her friend, “You’re not supposed to use the c-word.”
The other girl rolled her eyes and released a raggedy strand of hair she had been chewing, “What, are you going to do? Tell on me?”
“No.” Ana said quietly, staring hard at the paper she was drawing on.
“Aw Ana, I’m sorry. I know you’re not…I won’t say it again okay?” Her friend said earnestly.
“You’d better not Claudia,” Ana sniffed, “If you get into trouble again you might go away. And I couldn’t—“ She bit her lip hard and the crayon she was drawing with left dark pressure streaks across her paper.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Claudia picked up a blue crayon and started drawing stars on the page, “Stupid that they don’t give us colored pencils or markers or something.”
“No pointy things, that’s what mom said, not after…” Ana’s sentence whispered into nothing as they both remembered. It was an unspoken rule; they never talked about the bad things. But nothing could stop them from remembering.
She lay in a field with her hair spread all around her. It fell in cornflower waves, not the short, manageable cut she had in the other place. She stroked bunches of it in her fingers and listened to the sweet smelling grass sing to the stars that winked above. And then the moon began its haunting tune and she couldn’t help but sing with it in her high sweet soprano. She stretched out her fingers and pulled a winking star down to her, whispering and giggling as they snuggled into her grassy nest. She threaded his brilliance between her fingers and he whispered the secrets of the sky for only her to hear.
But then all she had to do was open her eyes, and the truth would be there. Why did that have to be the truth? Why couldn’t she live in the one she had made, the brilliant fantastic truth that lived behind closed eyes?
“Parent day. Could there be a worse day?” Claudia rolled her eyes and tugged at her shirt. One of the few advantages of this day was they were allowed to wear real clothes. As long as there were no zippers or dangerous looking buttons.
“Evaluation day.” Ana said, “Evaluation day is the worst.” And it was, but it was also the best. The day their cases were all reevaluated for potential freedom could bring both wonderful hope and crushing agony. Unfortunately for Ana and Claudia, it always seemed to be the latter.
Claudia swung her feet from her chair, “Maybe it’ll be a good day this year, I mean we’ve both been doing pretty good right?” She looked at Ana hopefully.
“Yeah, pretty good.” Ana said distractedly as she stared into the lobby.
“Oh.” Claudia said as she glanced into the same room.
She patted Ana on the back, “Good luck.”
Luck was definitely needed by anyone coming into contact with the cold steely woman who was now striding through the waiting room doors. Her hair hardly moved from its sculpted position as she tapped rapidly down the hall. Ana watched her walk into one of the conference rooms; holding her breath as she waited for the doctor to come and take her to her mother.
Dark ripples spread out from her tiny boat. She peaked over its edge into a vast ocean and knew she should be afraid of what might swim below the surface but was only excited. It was her mind after all, and no demon below, however hideous, would be unknown to her. She folded her legs under her and worked a little worm onto a hook in her lap. Sunlight glowed down on her, making her shadow waver on the dark water. When the hook was ready she cast her line out into the water, wrapping her hands carefully around the fishing pole to keep it from flying from her hands if she caught something. She didn’t really care if she did, but was interested in what might happen if she tried. Casting a line out blindly into the waters of her mind, what might bite?
The woman smacked a magazine down on the desk, startling Ana out of her thoughts.
“Will you stop drifting off please?” She said sharply, “I asked how your day went.”
What did she want to hear?
“It was fun.”
“Did you do anything interesting?”
What would get her out of here?
“I drew some pictures, and made friends with one of the new girls.”
“A friend? Which one?”
Please
“Claudia.”
“Oh.” She paused, “That’s wonderful.”
Help me.
“Momma, do you know when I can come back home?”
The sleek woman in front of her hesitated and straightened the papers in the file she held in her lap, “I’m not quite sure Ana, we’ll just have to see won’t we?”
“Have to see?” Her lips quivered, “But you promised—“
There was a soft knock on the door and one of the doctors stuck his head in, “Mrs. Harper, may I see you for just a moment? I’m sorry to interrupt but—“
“No, no, it’s fine.” She said tightly. He nodded and ducked back out into the hall while she pushed back her chair.
“Momma, why are you going?”
“I’ll just be a second Ana; I need to talk to your doctor.”
Ana caught the edge of her coat, trying to tug her back, “But this is the only time--“
Her mother’s hand stroked absently at the bristly hair on her daughters head, “I’ll just be a minute.”
“But—“
“Oh for God’s sake!” The woman rummaged in her purse for a while and came up with a few colored pens. She slapped them and some paper down in front of her daughter with a hurried, “Draw something for me, I’ll be right back.” as she rushed out of the room.
Ana sobbed and fisted her hands over her eyes.
“Close, close!” she demanded of them, trying to sink back into her wonderful place.
“I’m sorry Doctor, what is it?”
“It’s about Ana.”
“I gathered that, what about her?”
“Well, it’s about her pictures.”
“Yes, she’s been telling me about the artwork she’s been—is something wrong?”
The doctor hesitated, “Have you ever seen her pictures?”
“No. Is there a problem with them?”
“It could be nothing, but, well take a look.”
He handed her a folder of pictures and she flipped it open. Her eyes widened and her breathe came faster as she flicked through them quickly. After she had scanned a few she snatched one and shoved the folder in the direction of the doctor. Almost at a run she slammed through the conference room door to hesitate at the threshold.
“Ana!?!” she called loudly, staring at her daughter’s empty chair. She walked further into the room to find Ana huddled in a corner.
“Oh Ana,” she sobbed as she tottered over to the girl, “Why didn’t you tell me?” She held out the picture like a peace offering.”
“It’s okay Momma,” Ana said, “I fixed it.”
She turned her face away from the corner and smiled at her mother beatifically, “See?”
With a little choked sound her mother let the picture drift to the ground. She stared wordlessly at her daughter’s face, then took a deep breath and began to scream.
But Ana just smiled and leaned her head gently against the wall.
She couldn’t see the ugliness any more.
-Meghan
You say that you know one better? You have never been to mine.
Every love, every terror, every experience can be found within its twisting corridors, and all that it takes to bring you where you want is a thought. Set your hands against the shifting walls of a castle and the stone will blend to grass, windows to sky, and cobwebs to stars. In the spaces of my mind I walk, never bored, never lonely, always safe.
“What?”
“That’s it.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Yes it does.”
“Ana, you’re crazy.”
Ana narrowed her eyes at her friend, “You’re not supposed to use the c-word.”
The other girl rolled her eyes and released a raggedy strand of hair she had been chewing, “What, are you going to do? Tell on me?”
“No.” Ana said quietly, staring hard at the paper she was drawing on.
“Aw Ana, I’m sorry. I know you’re not…I won’t say it again okay?” Her friend said earnestly.
“You’d better not Claudia,” Ana sniffed, “If you get into trouble again you might go away. And I couldn’t—“ She bit her lip hard and the crayon she was drawing with left dark pressure streaks across her paper.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Claudia picked up a blue crayon and started drawing stars on the page, “Stupid that they don’t give us colored pencils or markers or something.”
“No pointy things, that’s what mom said, not after…” Ana’s sentence whispered into nothing as they both remembered. It was an unspoken rule; they never talked about the bad things. But nothing could stop them from remembering.
She lay in a field with her hair spread all around her. It fell in cornflower waves, not the short, manageable cut she had in the other place. She stroked bunches of it in her fingers and listened to the sweet smelling grass sing to the stars that winked above. And then the moon began its haunting tune and she couldn’t help but sing with it in her high sweet soprano. She stretched out her fingers and pulled a winking star down to her, whispering and giggling as they snuggled into her grassy nest. She threaded his brilliance between her fingers and he whispered the secrets of the sky for only her to hear.
But then all she had to do was open her eyes, and the truth would be there. Why did that have to be the truth? Why couldn’t she live in the one she had made, the brilliant fantastic truth that lived behind closed eyes?
“Parent day. Could there be a worse day?” Claudia rolled her eyes and tugged at her shirt. One of the few advantages of this day was they were allowed to wear real clothes. As long as there were no zippers or dangerous looking buttons.
“Evaluation day.” Ana said, “Evaluation day is the worst.” And it was, but it was also the best. The day their cases were all reevaluated for potential freedom could bring both wonderful hope and crushing agony. Unfortunately for Ana and Claudia, it always seemed to be the latter.
Claudia swung her feet from her chair, “Maybe it’ll be a good day this year, I mean we’ve both been doing pretty good right?” She looked at Ana hopefully.
“Yeah, pretty good.” Ana said distractedly as she stared into the lobby.
“Oh.” Claudia said as she glanced into the same room.
She patted Ana on the back, “Good luck.”
Luck was definitely needed by anyone coming into contact with the cold steely woman who was now striding through the waiting room doors. Her hair hardly moved from its sculpted position as she tapped rapidly down the hall. Ana watched her walk into one of the conference rooms; holding her breath as she waited for the doctor to come and take her to her mother.
Dark ripples spread out from her tiny boat. She peaked over its edge into a vast ocean and knew she should be afraid of what might swim below the surface but was only excited. It was her mind after all, and no demon below, however hideous, would be unknown to her. She folded her legs under her and worked a little worm onto a hook in her lap. Sunlight glowed down on her, making her shadow waver on the dark water. When the hook was ready she cast her line out into the water, wrapping her hands carefully around the fishing pole to keep it from flying from her hands if she caught something. She didn’t really care if she did, but was interested in what might happen if she tried. Casting a line out blindly into the waters of her mind, what might bite?
The woman smacked a magazine down on the desk, startling Ana out of her thoughts.
“Will you stop drifting off please?” She said sharply, “I asked how your day went.”
What did she want to hear?
“It was fun.”
“Did you do anything interesting?”
What would get her out of here?
“I drew some pictures, and made friends with one of the new girls.”
“A friend? Which one?”
Please
“Claudia.”
“Oh.” She paused, “That’s wonderful.”
Help me.
“Momma, do you know when I can come back home?”
The sleek woman in front of her hesitated and straightened the papers in the file she held in her lap, “I’m not quite sure Ana, we’ll just have to see won’t we?”
“Have to see?” Her lips quivered, “But you promised—“
There was a soft knock on the door and one of the doctors stuck his head in, “Mrs. Harper, may I see you for just a moment? I’m sorry to interrupt but—“
“No, no, it’s fine.” She said tightly. He nodded and ducked back out into the hall while she pushed back her chair.
“Momma, why are you going?”
“I’ll just be a second Ana; I need to talk to your doctor.”
Ana caught the edge of her coat, trying to tug her back, “But this is the only time--“
Her mother’s hand stroked absently at the bristly hair on her daughters head, “I’ll just be a minute.”
“But—“
“Oh for God’s sake!” The woman rummaged in her purse for a while and came up with a few colored pens. She slapped them and some paper down in front of her daughter with a hurried, “Draw something for me, I’ll be right back.” as she rushed out of the room.
Ana sobbed and fisted her hands over her eyes.
“Close, close!” she demanded of them, trying to sink back into her wonderful place.
“I’m sorry Doctor, what is it?”
“It’s about Ana.”
“I gathered that, what about her?”
“Well, it’s about her pictures.”
“Yes, she’s been telling me about the artwork she’s been—is something wrong?”
The doctor hesitated, “Have you ever seen her pictures?”
“No. Is there a problem with them?”
“It could be nothing, but, well take a look.”
He handed her a folder of pictures and she flipped it open. Her eyes widened and her breathe came faster as she flicked through them quickly. After she had scanned a few she snatched one and shoved the folder in the direction of the doctor. Almost at a run she slammed through the conference room door to hesitate at the threshold.
“Ana!?!” she called loudly, staring at her daughter’s empty chair. She walked further into the room to find Ana huddled in a corner.
“Oh Ana,” she sobbed as she tottered over to the girl, “Why didn’t you tell me?” She held out the picture like a peace offering.”
“It’s okay Momma,” Ana said, “I fixed it.”
She turned her face away from the corner and smiled at her mother beatifically, “See?”
With a little choked sound her mother let the picture drift to the ground. She stared wordlessly at her daughter’s face, then took a deep breath and began to scream.
But Ana just smiled and leaned her head gently against the wall.
She couldn’t see the ugliness any more.
-Meghan
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Doug: Immortality
The ringing of the alarm was silenced by Daniel’s hand slamming none too gently down on the snooze button. An almost human sounding moan escaped his lips as he lifted his head from the pillow. Behind him, the sun had just dipped below the horizon, it’s red starburst lingering on the clouds like a bloodstain.
“They told me immortality, they did not tell me that I’d wake up with a hangover every night.” He muttered.
“Shower.” Irene’s naked form literally fell out of bed, slamming onto the floor hard. Harder than a normal body would fall. All that extra muscle. “If anyone ever ambushed us in the evenings, we’d be deader than we already are.”
Daniel grunted, stumbling, then walking, then gliding silently to the industrial sized refrigerator, almost yanking the door off its hinges. A wide variety of choices greeted him.
“O neg, I think.” He muttered to himself.
“For breakfast?” Irene whispered from the shower.
“It’s blood, it’s not like there’s a fucking food pyramid for blood.”
“Shhh, I’m trying to pretend we’re normal.”
“It’s normal to communicate in whispers from thirty feet away from each other?”
“Daniel, I love you, but if you don’t play this game with me, I’m going to tear your arms off. I don’t care if they grow back.”
“…Okay.” He quickly drained the bag of blood and joined her in the shower. She rested her head on his smooth back as the water cascaded down around them. A memory fluttered past her, of when she could put her head on his chest and hear his heartbeat. A thousand years ago. She missed that, like she missed breathing. Like she missed being able to eat ice cream.
Like she missed feeling pain.
“Daniel?”
“Yes, my love?” He always said it with such sincerity. He must mean it; no one dies, rebirths, and stays with their love for hundreds and hundreds of years unless it’s for real.
“I want to be mortal again.”
“So you can die?” Sounding as though he’d been giving it some thought recently. Probably last decade, that had been a bad fight.
“So I can live.”
-Doug
"Death can not stop true love."
-Wesley, "The Princess Bride."
“They told me immortality, they did not tell me that I’d wake up with a hangover every night.” He muttered.
“Shower.” Irene’s naked form literally fell out of bed, slamming onto the floor hard. Harder than a normal body would fall. All that extra muscle. “If anyone ever ambushed us in the evenings, we’d be deader than we already are.”
Daniel grunted, stumbling, then walking, then gliding silently to the industrial sized refrigerator, almost yanking the door off its hinges. A wide variety of choices greeted him.
“O neg, I think.” He muttered to himself.
“For breakfast?” Irene whispered from the shower.
“It’s blood, it’s not like there’s a fucking food pyramid for blood.”
“Shhh, I’m trying to pretend we’re normal.”
“It’s normal to communicate in whispers from thirty feet away from each other?”
“Daniel, I love you, but if you don’t play this game with me, I’m going to tear your arms off. I don’t care if they grow back.”
“…Okay.” He quickly drained the bag of blood and joined her in the shower. She rested her head on his smooth back as the water cascaded down around them. A memory fluttered past her, of when she could put her head on his chest and hear his heartbeat. A thousand years ago. She missed that, like she missed breathing. Like she missed being able to eat ice cream.
Like she missed feeling pain.
“Daniel?”
“Yes, my love?” He always said it with such sincerity. He must mean it; no one dies, rebirths, and stays with their love for hundreds and hundreds of years unless it’s for real.
“I want to be mortal again.”
“So you can die?” Sounding as though he’d been giving it some thought recently. Probably last decade, that had been a bad fight.
“So I can live.”
-Doug
"Death can not stop true love."
-Wesley, "The Princess Bride."
Jasmine: The North
“Is she married?” Munin’s head nodded towards the woman staring lazily towards our corner of the pub.
“Aren’t they always?”
Hugin cocked his head then snorted. “That’s an image I can’t ever give back”
“Tell me the truth. You don’t really want to.” I grinned lasciviously at him and caught one of Munin’s glares. I turned my smile to her. God’s were such pains, especially the twins.
“Business Loki, stick to business.”
“Business doesn’t have to be all work and no play. There can be some play. Pretty please run a cherry down your naked body before I come inside you?” That earned me a look from Hugin.
“You want a cherry too?”
You had to treat the twins equally or they got upset. To tell the truth though Munin was all talk and no game. Hugin on the other hand, now he was a boy I could forget for a few days with. Too bad about the abnormal twin shaped growth that wouldn’t stop poking and prodding for even a moment.
“No cherries. Just your report. What have the Greeks been doing? Have they moved to the north yet?”
"Now there are a people who know what to do with their cherries. There was this one time I caught one of the nymphlings filling her…”
“Report!”
“They like my stories better than you too.”
“Then sell your information to them.”
If only you knew. “Fine, if you’re going to cry about it. They’ve started moving non-perishable supplies.”
“To the north?”
I filled them in on everything they had expected and everything Athena wanted them to think was surprising. When I was done they flew home to daddy laden down with the pretty lies that the Greeks would be attacking, and soon.
I ordered a drink for the cute blonde sitting at the bar. After all I was getting two pay checks, I could afford it.
“Aren’t they always?”
Hugin cocked his head then snorted. “That’s an image I can’t ever give back”
“Tell me the truth. You don’t really want to.” I grinned lasciviously at him and caught one of Munin’s glares. I turned my smile to her. God’s were such pains, especially the twins.
“Business Loki, stick to business.”
“Business doesn’t have to be all work and no play. There can be some play. Pretty please run a cherry down your naked body before I come inside you?” That earned me a look from Hugin.
“You want a cherry too?”
You had to treat the twins equally or they got upset. To tell the truth though Munin was all talk and no game. Hugin on the other hand, now he was a boy I could forget for a few days with. Too bad about the abnormal twin shaped growth that wouldn’t stop poking and prodding for even a moment.
“No cherries. Just your report. What have the Greeks been doing? Have they moved to the north yet?”
"Now there are a people who know what to do with their cherries. There was this one time I caught one of the nymphlings filling her…”
“Report!”
“They like my stories better than you too.”
“Then sell your information to them.”
If only you knew. “Fine, if you’re going to cry about it. They’ve started moving non-perishable supplies.”
“To the north?”
I filled them in on everything they had expected and everything Athena wanted them to think was surprising. When I was done they flew home to daddy laden down with the pretty lies that the Greeks would be attacking, and soon.
I ordered a drink for the cute blonde sitting at the bar. After all I was getting two pay checks, I could afford it.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
That guy: Training Day 2
“PUSH. IT. YOU LITTLE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!”
I come screeching around the corner. Not alone. Another trap. I shift my balance to my legs, dropping me to the floor, sending me skidding into my obstacles legs. He collapses on top of me. I smash my fist into his face, feeling the ever familiar break. Probably his jaw. Maybe the zygomatic as well. Either way, he stays down. Even though the whole encounter has taken less than a second, I’ve wasted too much time.
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TAKING SO LONG FOR?!?!?!?”
I throw myself back up on my feet, and break full tilt back into the endless winding corridors. The reduced lighting makes it hard to tell what awaits me. Left turns into right. Right turns into up. I charge on, narrowly avoiding corner after corner.
WHAM……….
A staff swings from nowhere, no, from the next turn, crashing into my chest.
I go down with a grunt.
“FUCKING. SLOPPY.”
I glare in my head, but I have no chance to actually get upset. The figure standing over me brings the staff crashing down, and I barely roll myself out of the way. Rolling to my side, I can feel the damage. Fractured rib. I push it down, and grab the staff on its way up for another strike, hoisting me with it. I drop my shoulder on him, spearing him in the stomach. His turn to fall. I grab the staff and swing the top into the side of his head like a golfer. He goes limp, blood pooling underneath him. I drop the staff and start to run again.
A light pops into existence, ever so faint in the distance. I know where I have to go. Fuck.
“GET A FUCKING MOVE ON YOU LITTLE CUNT!”
I breeze through the last part of the labyrinth like corridors. No more obstacles. A moment of respite, knowing what is to come.
The light is clear now. A little strip of white under a door. From the darkness, step into the light, and find salvation, or so they say.
There is no salvation here.
I stop at the door.
Take a deeeeeep breath.
And kick the door in.
A knife comes zipping through the air. I can’t move in time. The cold piercing steel lands right in my side. The shock brings me to life. The dwindling adrenaline rush from the gauntlet returns in spades. And now I have a weapon.
I am set upon.
The blade is knocked from my hand. Fuck.
I lash out with controlled strikes. Taking just as many, if not more, as I throw.
“ENOUGH”
The beating ends.
I finally look up, raising my head from the safe cocoon of my stance. The spectator box, filled with all its computers and view screens. And Bob. The bane of my life. But the pinnacle of my skill.
He gazes down. I glare back. He sits, lofty, watching all. Seeing all. And I stand, panting, bruised, broken, bloody.
He nods at me, and walks off.
I am left deserted in the room. I stagger over to the med kit, as the reality of my actions hits my body like a train.
I cough intensely. Blood. Of course.
I pull out a towel, and wipe my hands. My knuckles are split. I couldn’t even tell from all the blood.
And then he’s there. Standing next to me. I turn and start to defend myself, but he waves it off.
Even without the amplifiers, his voice still resonates.
“Good job.”
And then he’s gone again.
I bury my face in the towel.
Another day in paradise.
I come screeching around the corner. Not alone. Another trap. I shift my balance to my legs, dropping me to the floor, sending me skidding into my obstacles legs. He collapses on top of me. I smash my fist into his face, feeling the ever familiar break. Probably his jaw. Maybe the zygomatic as well. Either way, he stays down. Even though the whole encounter has taken less than a second, I’ve wasted too much time.
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TAKING SO LONG FOR?!?!?!?”
I throw myself back up on my feet, and break full tilt back into the endless winding corridors. The reduced lighting makes it hard to tell what awaits me. Left turns into right. Right turns into up. I charge on, narrowly avoiding corner after corner.
WHAM……….
A staff swings from nowhere, no, from the next turn, crashing into my chest.
I go down with a grunt.
“FUCKING. SLOPPY.”
I glare in my head, but I have no chance to actually get upset. The figure standing over me brings the staff crashing down, and I barely roll myself out of the way. Rolling to my side, I can feel the damage. Fractured rib. I push it down, and grab the staff on its way up for another strike, hoisting me with it. I drop my shoulder on him, spearing him in the stomach. His turn to fall. I grab the staff and swing the top into the side of his head like a golfer. He goes limp, blood pooling underneath him. I drop the staff and start to run again.
A light pops into existence, ever so faint in the distance. I know where I have to go. Fuck.
“GET A FUCKING MOVE ON YOU LITTLE CUNT!”
I breeze through the last part of the labyrinth like corridors. No more obstacles. A moment of respite, knowing what is to come.
The light is clear now. A little strip of white under a door. From the darkness, step into the light, and find salvation, or so they say.
There is no salvation here.
I stop at the door.
Take a deeeeeep breath.
And kick the door in.
A knife comes zipping through the air. I can’t move in time. The cold piercing steel lands right in my side. The shock brings me to life. The dwindling adrenaline rush from the gauntlet returns in spades. And now I have a weapon.
I am set upon.
The blade is knocked from my hand. Fuck.
I lash out with controlled strikes. Taking just as many, if not more, as I throw.
“ENOUGH”
The beating ends.
I finally look up, raising my head from the safe cocoon of my stance. The spectator box, filled with all its computers and view screens. And Bob. The bane of my life. But the pinnacle of my skill.
He gazes down. I glare back. He sits, lofty, watching all. Seeing all. And I stand, panting, bruised, broken, bloody.
He nods at me, and walks off.
I am left deserted in the room. I stagger over to the med kit, as the reality of my actions hits my body like a train.
I cough intensely. Blood. Of course.
I pull out a towel, and wipe my hands. My knuckles are split. I couldn’t even tell from all the blood.
And then he’s there. Standing next to me. I turn and start to defend myself, but he waves it off.
Even without the amplifiers, his voice still resonates.
“Good job.”
And then he’s gone again.
I bury my face in the towel.
Another day in paradise.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Doug: College
College started again.
It's very important to remember, that while a lot of people going to college are utter morons, whose only goal is to get their dick wet, a lot of really smart people attend these places.
As you get into higher level classes, these smart people tend to show up more and more.
And the more you open your mouth in these classes, the dumber you realize that YOU are.
It's a damn good thing that I'm likable in the rougeish way, because I'm certainly not the smartest cookie in this particular jar.
-Doug
"Is like a circle. East has great spirituality, but lacks technology. West has great technology, but lacks a spirit."
-Imam, PolySci 307
"I should probably read before I talk."
-Me, to myself
It's very important to remember, that while a lot of people going to college are utter morons, whose only goal is to get their dick wet, a lot of really smart people attend these places.
As you get into higher level classes, these smart people tend to show up more and more.
And the more you open your mouth in these classes, the dumber you realize that YOU are.
It's a damn good thing that I'm likable in the rougeish way, because I'm certainly not the smartest cookie in this particular jar.
-Doug
"Is like a circle. East has great spirituality, but lacks technology. West has great technology, but lacks a spirit."
-Imam, PolySci 307
"I should probably read before I talk."
-Me, to myself
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)