this scene is literally right after the last one, so there isn't much to say about it. this one is also rather long, so the next will be shorter to insure that i don't totally bore you to death. thanks for reading and enjoy!
We ate the rest of the cereal in the living room. Peter and Haylee crunched loudly in the silence, watching Marc in his usual place leaning against the doorframe, staring at me with concerned and troubled eyes. No one said anything. I kept my gaze on my feet, absentmindedly kicked a few soggy pieces of cereal that had fallen from my hair. I heard the sound of Marc rubbing his palms against his stubble. Suddenly, Peter slammed his cereal bowl down onto the coffee table and jumped to his feet.
"Is anyone going to talk about what the hell is going on here?" he shouted. Marc shifted his feet uncomfortably. None of us spoke and the silence stretched on. "Fine!" Peter shouted again, plopping down onto the couch and folding his arms stubbornly across his chest. "But just for the record: I'm happy this happened. I'm glad I'm not the only freak."
"What?" Marc asked, turning to look at Peter.
"No offense, man, but you did just vaporize a table."
"You can do it, too?" Marc's face was bewildered but somehow also relieved.
"Not make stuff disappear, no, but... other stuff." He trailed off.
"Like what?" his face was eager now.
"A few days ago... before we came here... I sort of... made water move... with my mind," Peter stared at his hands while he spoke.
"Made it move?" Marc asked, "I don't understand."
"We were arguing about coming here," Peter shifted his gaze to the ceiling guiltily as Haylee spoke, "and Peter lost his temper. Then some water in a glass on the table just lifted into the air and swirled around."
"Are you sure it wasn't you?" Marc asked Haylee.
"Yes," they both said at the same time. Peter continued, "It's like I felt it happen, in my head. I saw what was going on and it just clicked that I had caused it. It was almost like I could all of a sudden..."
"Think clearly?" Marc suggested. Peter nodded, both boys looked at each other with bright eyes.
"So that's what the dream was about," Marc finally continued, "you and all the water."
"Are we all having the same dreams again?" Haylee asked, each one of us nodded in turn.
"So what did you do to piss him off in the kitchen, Dakota?" Peter asked, "Did you stab him with a spoon or something?" Marc looked at the floor.
"She didn't piss me off," he muttered.
"What happened?" Haylee asked.
"Dakota..." Marc began, I could feel heat rising in my face. "She... knocked me over with her chair."
"I didn't mean to," I whispered, unable to make much more noise.
"You didn't?" Marc asked, his eyes burning into mine, his eyebrows pulled together in a worried and hurt expression. I was suddenly unsure of what exactly we were talking about. My head swam.
"I..." But I couldn't think of what else to say. He looked back to the floor.
"So you fell into the table and it just... vanished?" Peter asked, his eyes wide.
"Yes," Marc finished.
"Have you done this before?" Haylee asked.
"Once or twice, before you came." We were silent again.
"Well," Peter said finally, standing, "that settles it then."
"Settles what?" I asked, feeling very slow today.
"We've got to go to the desert."
"What?" Haylee and Marc asked in unison.
"The first dream meant for us to come here, and now this one means that we have to go there. We're supposed to go and figure this out, I just know it. I'll get some clothes together. I saw a map in the closet upstairs." He headed across the floor.
"Wait! We can't just up and drive to the desert!" Haylee sprang to her feet too.
"Sure we can. I'll get us there in 16 hours, tops." He turned up the stairs.
"Peter!" Haylee called, looking around at Marc and I for backup. Marc shrugged heavily, his eyes bright with the anticipation of answers, or at the very least of getting out of the house.
"Don't argue with me, Hal," Peter said with a smile, "I might make it rain." He sprang up the stairs leaving Haylee with a frustrated look on her face.
"Well," she finally said, looking at Marc and I, "you'll both stay here where it's safe and Peter and I will come back as soon as we can."
"No chance," Marc said, folding his arms across his chest in a very Peter-like gesture.
"We were all there in the dream, Haylee," I said, "we're all supposed to be there."
"Yeah," Marc added, meeting my eyes with a blazing look, full of meaning, "what have we got to lose?" I was overcome again with the sense that I no longer knew the subject of the conversation at hand. Sweat prickled on my neck. His eyebrows pulled together as we stared at one another and he finally dropped his arms to his sides and looked at the floor.
"Marc..." I began, not sure of what to say but desperate to say something.
"I'm going to the store on the street over to get us some food for the road," he walked to the door without looking at anyone, "I don't think they'll miss much. I'll be back in twenty minutes." He shut the door and was gone. I stood frozen, staring after him.
"Damn, Dakota," Peter called from the top of the stairs, "what did you do to him?"
Ten minutes later, I sat on a stool in the pantry while Haylee made grilled cheese sandwiches. She was cutting mold off of the crusts and I had just finished telling her, with much blushing, what had happened at the kitchen table. I would never have had the nerve to tell her, but I thought that it was best if someone knew the whole story in case it would help us figure out what was happening.
"So," Haylee said as she lit the fire under the burner, "you were trying to kiss him."
"No," I mumbled, ignoring the fresh rush of blood to my face, "I... it... we... he was just so close to my face!" Haylee smiled but there was no judgment in her look.
"So you were trying to... get closer to his face?" She smiled wider.
"I... don't... he smells very good," I finished lamely. She laughed. "Don't laugh at me, I'm losing my mind," I pouted.
"He made a table disappear and you think you are the crazy one."
"Clearly I am since I'm trying to kiss strangers."
"Dakota," she said, searing me with her best mothering look, "you deserve to be happy. You have a strange connection to each other. We all grieved with him and loved him before we even got here and he seems to have persevered through his sadness and taken strength in his visions of you coming to save him. Naturally, you would be drawn to each other. In the pain and confusion that you both have known so recently, how could it possibly be wrong to seek comfort together? And besides," she smiled and turned back to the stove, "he is gorgeous, isn't he?"
"Haylee," I groaned, covering my face. The front door slammed and I felt my heart flutter into my stomach.
"Marc," Haylee called, "come and get a sandwich!" A floorboard creaked upstairs but it was silent in the living room.
"Marc?" Haylee called again, louder.
Haylee turned away from the stove to face the direction of the living room. Unable to see into the space from the pantry, I watched as her face drained to a ghostly white and her eyes widened in fear. "Dakota," she whispered from the corner of her mouth, "shut the door." I sprang to my feet and peered around the frame. Standing a few yards away, with one hand resting gently on the back of a chair, the shadow woman from the highway stood with her red eyes locked on Haylee. The sunlight from the windows drifted through her body, causing her to shimmer and blur as I stared. A small smile played across her lips.
"Haylee," I whispered, my voice choked, "come into the pantry and we'll block the door."
"She'll come after both of us," she shook her head. "Close the door, Dakota."
"I'm not leaving you out there," I said firmly though my knees were shaking.
"Close the door, Dakota," she repeated. I was frozen where I was watching, one foot planted on the floor of the pantry and one foot out, facing the kitchen and the living room beyond.
The woman tightened her hand slightly on the back of the chair she was touching, shattering it to pieces. A moment later she held a sharp spear of wood like a dagger, it's jagged point seeming to draw the air out of the room. She took a step toward Haylee who shut her eyes. Smoke began to rise from the burning grilled cheese. I prepared myself to reach out and pull Haylee into the pantry with me. I took a deep, ragged breath. A crash rang out from the living room and Haylee's eyes flew open. We both watched as Peter sprint into view, swinging his baseball bat inches in front of the woman's gleaming eyes.
"Peter, NO!" Haylee screamed.
"Haylee, GET OUT OF HERE!" He brought the bat down onto the woman's head. It paused there for a moment and then sank right through her misted form. She moved like lightning, still smiling, and slit a hole in Peter's shirt along his shoulder. Blood ran freely from the wound. Haylee screamed and Peter swung the bat uselessly through the woman again and again as she danced away from him. She reached out and wrenched the bat from his hands, throwing it uselessly to the floor. She stepped forward and lifted Peter from his feet with one hand clamped around his neck.
"LET HIM GO!" Haylee bellowed, her voice shaking with emotion. The woman paused and turned to look at Haylee, amusement coloring her face. Peter choked and gasped.
"Let him go," she repeated in a hard voice. A flicker of movement behind her back dragged my eyes away. The fire under the burner was climbing higher and higher over the pan, flames lapping at the air. She took a shuttered breath. Peter kicked his legs viciously and then fell still. Haylee began to tremble. The fire condensed into one small flame, the size of a fist, and lifted itself into the air. It hovered above the stove for a moment and then floated neatly around Haylee's body until it came to rest just inches in front of her heart. Her hair danced away from the heat as the ball of fire began to grow, reflecting wildly in her blazing eyes. The woman simply smiled and lifted Peter higher into the air.
"LET HIM GO!!!" Haylee screamed. A sudden flash of light and heat filled the air. The fire expanded everywhere, shooting forward and to the sides. I raised my arm to cover my face and felt heat sear across the back of my hand. A high scream filled the air and then it was silent. I let my hand fall to my side, coughing in the smoke. I opened my eyes.
Every surface of the kitchen was black. The chairs were singed and a dishtowel hanging next to the sink was still smoldering. Smoke billowed through the open window and the sunlight struggled to break through the swirling clouds of black. I stepped out into the kitchen slowly. There was no sign of the woman but my eyes were dragged across the room to Peter laying unconscious in Haylee's arms on the floor. I slumped forward and dropped to my knees.
"He's alright, he's alright" she whispered desperately, and moments later his eyelids lifted slowly. Haylee choked a sob and buried her face in his chest. He held her close with his uninjured arm and met my gaze with a thin smile. I pushed a piece of singed hair from his forehead. He looked around, taking in the destruction of the room.
"Who lit the bitch on fire?" he asked in a hoarse voice.
"That would be your sister," I said, returning his smile, "and you'll never guess how she did it."
"Way to go, little freak," he patted her on the back and she sobbed harder.
We had just pulled Peter to his feet with the intention of getting him to the sofa when the front door banged open and Marc rushed in with fear etched on every line of his face. He froze in the doorway. His eyes flashed from the smoking kitchen, to Haylee's tearstained face, to Peter's bleeding shoulder, to my eyes on his. Finally, he rushed forward and pulled me roughly into his arms.
"Are you alright?" he whispered desperately into my ear. I nodded and he pressed his face against my hair for a moment and then broke away, turning toward Peter and Haylee.
"I saw her running from the house and noticed the smoke," he whispered, staring at the two of them, "I am..." he swallowed hard, "so sorry. She came after you because I was gone and I should never have left you all alone. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."
"Stop it," Haylee said, and wrapped her arms around him.
"You are my family now," he whispered, almost silently, his eyes closed tightly.
"We love you too, Marc," Peter said, lowering himself onto the couch, "but I have some HUGE splinters poking through my skin here, and I think I may need a band aid." We all laughed except for Haylee, who burst into tears again and hurried to see to Peter's shoulder.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
breakfast of champions
this scene comes about a day or two after they arrive at Marc’s house. a lot of introductory conversation occurs in between, but i decided to skip most of it and move on to this scene. Peter makes himself at home knowing that the shadow people can’t come near them, Haylee immediately starts mothering the worn out Marc, and Dakota attempts to ignore their awkward tension. that, however, can only last so long, as you will see from this scene. what you need to know: the reference to Marc’s scent comes from a previous scene where Dakota sleeps on his pillow and finds herself comforted by his smell (grass and strawberries). enjoy!
As soon as I was asleep, we dreamed.
The light reflecting off the sand was blinding. We were walking in a desert. Though I had never been here before, somehow I knew that we were in the northern tip of the Mojave. I couldn't see any of the others, but I could feel them beside me. The heat was sweltering, sweat rolled down the small of my back and I could see heat waves rising from the ground everywhere. I stopped walking, panting with the effort of breathing in the thick, hot air. I couldn't go forward, I couldn't take another breath. I had to sit down, I needed water and cool air in my lungs. I was going to die in this suffocating air, I was going to choke on the heat waves and drown. Suddenly, the sand darkened. Unbelievably, I heard a peel of thunder and raised my head to feel the first big drops of rain falling against my face. I breathed in the cooling air and looked into the distance. Over the rise of a sand dune, Peter stood with his arms lifted in the air as if in worship. He tilted his head up to the rain and laughed, the water swirling around him and obscuring him in a funnel of crystals. We laughed too, and filled our lungs with the fresh, cold air of his storm.
I awoke with a start, the gray dawn light creeping across the living room carpet. I rose from the couch, stretching my muscles. The joyful face of Peter laughing as rain swirled around him filled my mind. I felt uneasy but also extremely hungry, so I made my way into the little kitchen to see what food was left to eat. If nothing else, I could think over the dream while I ate. I went straight to the fridge and pulled a half empty box of cereal from the counter. The milk was only one day past its sell by date, so I figured it would still be safe. I grabbed a ceramic bowl from the sink and turned toward the table. Peter was sitting in a chair in the shadows, staring at a glass of water. I gasped and dropped my bowl, which broke into two neat pieces on the floor. The air rushed from my lungs in a groan and I clutched my heart. Peter raised his head and observed me with distracted eyes.
"Wow, Pete, thanks so much," I said, tossing the bowl pieces into the trash and taking a new one, "I love a nice heart attack in the morning." I sat down across from him and poured some cereal.
"Did you see me, Dakota?" he whispered with a gleam in his eyes, "It was incredible, wasn't it? All that water..." he trailed off, looking back at the glass.
"What do you think it means?" I asked despite the unease in my stomach.
"It means we have to go there. To the desert. If we go there, I'll be able to figure out why I can do this and what it is." There was no doubt in his voice.
"What if it's just..." I swallowed, not wanting to upset him, "I mean... what if it's like you said before? Just a side effect of whatever has happened?" He shook his head, unwavering.
"It's not like that. It feels... different. Deliberate. I don't know," he lowered his voice and leaned toward me, "I think Marc can do something, too. I think there's something he's not telling us." A floorboard creaked upstairs and Peter looked suddenly excited. "Haylee!" he cried and jumped from the table.
I poured milk into the bowl slowly, thinking through the images from the dream and what Peter had said. I looked down into my cereal and realized that I had forgotten a spoon. “Great,“ I sighed. I stood, pushing my chair out and turning around. I saw Marc approaching from behind me one second too late. "Good morn- OW!" I pushed my chair right into his shins. He fell forward, knocking me into the table and pinning the small of my back against it. He put his hands flat against the tabletop on either side of me, steadying himself. His face was inches from mine, his body heavy against my chest, my head swam with the scent of grass and strawberries. We stared at each other for a long moment, breathing heavily. "Marc?" I whispered. His eyes burned into mine, "Yes?" he breathed back, his breath warm on my cheek, his hands tightening on the edge of the table. I closed my eyes and leaned my face toward his. Suddenly, the floor slid beneath me. My back hit the tile, knocking the breath out of me, and I felt ceramic crunch against my right shoulder. I sat up slowly, squinting against the pain. Marc stared down at me with wide, terrified eyes. The cereal was splattered across the floor and chairs, my broken bowl laying in pieces. We stared at each other across the now empty space where the table had stood only seconds before. Predictably, Peter arrived seconds later, looking for the source of the noise, Haylee following behind him. They stopped in the doorway, looking around the room and between Marc and I.
"Marc?" Haylee asked hesitantly, "what happened to the table?" We continued to stare at each other.
"He... vanished it," I choked in a whisper.
"That," Peter said after a moment, "is awesome."
As soon as I was asleep, we dreamed.
The light reflecting off the sand was blinding. We were walking in a desert. Though I had never been here before, somehow I knew that we were in the northern tip of the Mojave. I couldn't see any of the others, but I could feel them beside me. The heat was sweltering, sweat rolled down the small of my back and I could see heat waves rising from the ground everywhere. I stopped walking, panting with the effort of breathing in the thick, hot air. I couldn't go forward, I couldn't take another breath. I had to sit down, I needed water and cool air in my lungs. I was going to die in this suffocating air, I was going to choke on the heat waves and drown. Suddenly, the sand darkened. Unbelievably, I heard a peel of thunder and raised my head to feel the first big drops of rain falling against my face. I breathed in the cooling air and looked into the distance. Over the rise of a sand dune, Peter stood with his arms lifted in the air as if in worship. He tilted his head up to the rain and laughed, the water swirling around him and obscuring him in a funnel of crystals. We laughed too, and filled our lungs with the fresh, cold air of his storm.
I awoke with a start, the gray dawn light creeping across the living room carpet. I rose from the couch, stretching my muscles. The joyful face of Peter laughing as rain swirled around him filled my mind. I felt uneasy but also extremely hungry, so I made my way into the little kitchen to see what food was left to eat. If nothing else, I could think over the dream while I ate. I went straight to the fridge and pulled a half empty box of cereal from the counter. The milk was only one day past its sell by date, so I figured it would still be safe. I grabbed a ceramic bowl from the sink and turned toward the table. Peter was sitting in a chair in the shadows, staring at a glass of water. I gasped and dropped my bowl, which broke into two neat pieces on the floor. The air rushed from my lungs in a groan and I clutched my heart. Peter raised his head and observed me with distracted eyes.
"Wow, Pete, thanks so much," I said, tossing the bowl pieces into the trash and taking a new one, "I love a nice heart attack in the morning." I sat down across from him and poured some cereal.
"Did you see me, Dakota?" he whispered with a gleam in his eyes, "It was incredible, wasn't it? All that water..." he trailed off, looking back at the glass.
"What do you think it means?" I asked despite the unease in my stomach.
"It means we have to go there. To the desert. If we go there, I'll be able to figure out why I can do this and what it is." There was no doubt in his voice.
"What if it's just..." I swallowed, not wanting to upset him, "I mean... what if it's like you said before? Just a side effect of whatever has happened?" He shook his head, unwavering.
"It's not like that. It feels... different. Deliberate. I don't know," he lowered his voice and leaned toward me, "I think Marc can do something, too. I think there's something he's not telling us." A floorboard creaked upstairs and Peter looked suddenly excited. "Haylee!" he cried and jumped from the table.
I poured milk into the bowl slowly, thinking through the images from the dream and what Peter had said. I looked down into my cereal and realized that I had forgotten a spoon. “Great,“ I sighed. I stood, pushing my chair out and turning around. I saw Marc approaching from behind me one second too late. "Good morn- OW!" I pushed my chair right into his shins. He fell forward, knocking me into the table and pinning the small of my back against it. He put his hands flat against the tabletop on either side of me, steadying himself. His face was inches from mine, his body heavy against my chest, my head swam with the scent of grass and strawberries. We stared at each other for a long moment, breathing heavily. "Marc?" I whispered. His eyes burned into mine, "Yes?" he breathed back, his breath warm on my cheek, his hands tightening on the edge of the table. I closed my eyes and leaned my face toward his. Suddenly, the floor slid beneath me. My back hit the tile, knocking the breath out of me, and I felt ceramic crunch against my right shoulder. I sat up slowly, squinting against the pain. Marc stared down at me with wide, terrified eyes. The cereal was splattered across the floor and chairs, my broken bowl laying in pieces. We stared at each other across the now empty space where the table had stood only seconds before. Predictably, Peter arrived seconds later, looking for the source of the noise, Haylee following behind him. They stopped in the doorway, looking around the room and between Marc and I.
"Marc?" Haylee asked hesitantly, "what happened to the table?" We continued to stare at each other.
"He... vanished it," I choked in a whisper.
"That," Peter said after a moment, "is awesome."
Friday, July 25, 2008
dreams of Dakota
this scene comes after the group decides to go searching for the blonde boy. Peter grumbles quite a bit but is ultimately unable to sway Haylee's determination. they pack up and hit the road. the city is devastated and it takes several hours for them to crawl through the ruins. it is as they are driving that this scene begins. enjoy!
It took nearly an hour to reach the highway, but once we arrived we moved more quickly through the wide, abandoned lanes. After what felt like a very long time, I saw the outline of a tall water tower in the distance to the right. "There," I whispered, pointing Peter in the right direction. At the next exit, he put his turn signal on out of habit and I nearly laughed aloud at the simplicity of it.
Suddenly, he slammed on the breaks. "Shit!" he shouted into the rearview mirror before pounding his foot against the accelerator again, sending the car squealing down the exit ramp. Haylee and I turned our heads sharply to stare out the back window. A hundred yards behind us, the figure of a woman stood in the street watching with blank red eyes as our car sped away. As we rounded the corner at the end of the ramp, she began to sprint after us. "No, no, no," Peter chanted desperately as the car flew down the narrow road. I tore my eyes away to glance up front again and saw another street curve off to the left ahead of us. I could just make out the top of a yellow house with white shutters in the distance. "That's it!" I cried to Peter, he ground the gas pedal to the floor and raced toward the curve. I whipped my head behind us again. Unbelievably, the woman was standing just a few feet from the back of the car, easily keeping pace with our deadly speed. She seemed to smile as she quickly closed the gap. Haylee started screaming as the woman reached one long arm out and dug her nails into the trunk. A deafening screeching echoed in the air as her nails left deep gashes in the paint. I slid across the seat as Peter raced around the curve. He had only gone a few yards before Haylee shouted, "Stop! STOP!" He braked and we all turned to face the back window. The woman was still on the main road where the curve began, pacing back and forth across the cement, staring at the car. "She can't come any closer," Peter whispered in awe. We watched her for another long moment, breathing hard, and then she turned back toward the highway and disappeared. We waited for nearly ten minutes, the silence pressing painfully against our ears, our eyes darting in all directions for any hint of movement. "Come on," Haylee said quietly, turning to face the front, "we're almost there."
We drove slowly down the long road toward the yellow house that stood alone at the end. As we drew nearer we could make out a figure kneeling at the foot of a mound of fresh dirt, his blonde hair reflecting the light of the sinking sun. We climbed out of the car and walked slowly across the yard toward him. As we reached the front porch, Peter hung back. Haylee looked at him with questioning eyes. "Maybe I'd better wait here," he whispered in answer, "in case I turn him into ice or something." Haylee rolled her eyes but the two of us continued forward, waiting for the boy to turn and notice us.
We stopped a few feet behind him. After another moment of silence, Haylee coughed quietly. He jumped into the air and spun toward us, scrambling away across the dirt. He stared at me with surprise thick in his wide, blue eyes. We stood frozen this way for a long time; my hands trembling and my heart pounding in my throat, his fists pushed into the dirt and his sharp jaw clenching. This close, he didn't look so boyish anymore. The wires of his muscles trembled under his tan skin and I noticed that he had deep lines of worry etched into his forehead. I was overcome once more with the sting of borrowed grief as we continued to stare at one another over the edge of his father's grave.
He slowly climbed to his feet. He took several deep breaths and strode forward, closing the space between us and coming to stand directly in front of me. "Dakota," he whispered, his eyes burning into mine. A chill shivered down my spine and without thinking, I raised my trembling hand and laid it against his cheek. He closed his eyes at my touch and lifted his hand to cover mine. His skin was rough and warm against the back of my hand. With his eyes still closed, he almost smiled. "Dakota," he whispered again, "you are just like I dreamed."
* * *
The four of us stared awkwardly at each other in the little sitting room, surrounded by faded flower patterns and tiny china figurines. Peter and Haylee sat on the couch staring at our new blonde addition, Haylee with pure mothering sympathy in her eyes, Peter with one eyebrow raised in cold curiosity. The boy stared intently at me, rubbing the heel of his hand roughly against the blonde stubble that shadowed his jaw. He leaned against a doorframe that led into a bright kitchen and I stood at an armchair near the door. After several minutes, Peter spoke in a hard voice.
"Why don't you have anything boarded up against those things out there?" The boy was startled out of his concentration and dropped his eyes to the floor.
"They don't come near me," he replied with a shrug. More silence followed.
"So, why were you trying to off yourself, anyway?" Peter asked. Haylee gasped and smacked her brother hard in the back of his head. The blonde stared at him with wide eyes for a moment before dropping his gaze to the floor again, the tips of his ears red.
"I didn't know you were coming," he whispered, shooting a brief glance at me, "I thought... I thought it was just me."
"Like I Am Legend?" Peter asked seriously. I suppressed the urge to laugh. Surprisingly, the blonde boy did. His chuckle was low and hard, it sounded like sandpaper grating against wood.
"Except I don't even have a dog," he said with a grim smile.
"Can you do any freaky stuff, like with your mind?" Peter asked in a rush.
"Alright, alright, that's enough questions for now," Haylee said, standing from the couch, "I think we should all try and get some rest."
"I'll help you carry your bags to the bedrooms," the boy said and moved toward the backpacks at the front door. He had only taken a few steps when Haylee rushed over to him and wrapped her thin arms around his neck. He froze for a moment, startled, and then patted her back with a tiny, hard smile on his face. She took his face in her hands and stared into his eyes for a long time. Finally, she kissed his forehead and whispered into his ear. It was too low for me to hear, but when she pulled away he rubbed the back of his hand under his eyes quickly. Haylee grabbed a bag and headed up the stairs. Peter stood from the couch and the two men stared at each other for a long moment. For one fleeting second, I thought that Peter might hit him.
"What's your name, kid?" Peter asked.
"I'm Marc," the blonde said. After a minute, Peter squeezed the boy's shoulder, nodded once, and carried the other bags upstairs.
It took nearly an hour to reach the highway, but once we arrived we moved more quickly through the wide, abandoned lanes. After what felt like a very long time, I saw the outline of a tall water tower in the distance to the right. "There," I whispered, pointing Peter in the right direction. At the next exit, he put his turn signal on out of habit and I nearly laughed aloud at the simplicity of it.
Suddenly, he slammed on the breaks. "Shit!" he shouted into the rearview mirror before pounding his foot against the accelerator again, sending the car squealing down the exit ramp. Haylee and I turned our heads sharply to stare out the back window. A hundred yards behind us, the figure of a woman stood in the street watching with blank red eyes as our car sped away. As we rounded the corner at the end of the ramp, she began to sprint after us. "No, no, no," Peter chanted desperately as the car flew down the narrow road. I tore my eyes away to glance up front again and saw another street curve off to the left ahead of us. I could just make out the top of a yellow house with white shutters in the distance. "That's it!" I cried to Peter, he ground the gas pedal to the floor and raced toward the curve. I whipped my head behind us again. Unbelievably, the woman was standing just a few feet from the back of the car, easily keeping pace with our deadly speed. She seemed to smile as she quickly closed the gap. Haylee started screaming as the woman reached one long arm out and dug her nails into the trunk. A deafening screeching echoed in the air as her nails left deep gashes in the paint. I slid across the seat as Peter raced around the curve. He had only gone a few yards before Haylee shouted, "Stop! STOP!" He braked and we all turned to face the back window. The woman was still on the main road where the curve began, pacing back and forth across the cement, staring at the car. "She can't come any closer," Peter whispered in awe. We watched her for another long moment, breathing hard, and then she turned back toward the highway and disappeared. We waited for nearly ten minutes, the silence pressing painfully against our ears, our eyes darting in all directions for any hint of movement. "Come on," Haylee said quietly, turning to face the front, "we're almost there."
We drove slowly down the long road toward the yellow house that stood alone at the end. As we drew nearer we could make out a figure kneeling at the foot of a mound of fresh dirt, his blonde hair reflecting the light of the sinking sun. We climbed out of the car and walked slowly across the yard toward him. As we reached the front porch, Peter hung back. Haylee looked at him with questioning eyes. "Maybe I'd better wait here," he whispered in answer, "in case I turn him into ice or something." Haylee rolled her eyes but the two of us continued forward, waiting for the boy to turn and notice us.
We stopped a few feet behind him. After another moment of silence, Haylee coughed quietly. He jumped into the air and spun toward us, scrambling away across the dirt. He stared at me with surprise thick in his wide, blue eyes. We stood frozen this way for a long time; my hands trembling and my heart pounding in my throat, his fists pushed into the dirt and his sharp jaw clenching. This close, he didn't look so boyish anymore. The wires of his muscles trembled under his tan skin and I noticed that he had deep lines of worry etched into his forehead. I was overcome once more with the sting of borrowed grief as we continued to stare at one another over the edge of his father's grave.
He slowly climbed to his feet. He took several deep breaths and strode forward, closing the space between us and coming to stand directly in front of me. "Dakota," he whispered, his eyes burning into mine. A chill shivered down my spine and without thinking, I raised my trembling hand and laid it against his cheek. He closed his eyes at my touch and lifted his hand to cover mine. His skin was rough and warm against the back of my hand. With his eyes still closed, he almost smiled. "Dakota," he whispered again, "you are just like I dreamed."
* * *
The four of us stared awkwardly at each other in the little sitting room, surrounded by faded flower patterns and tiny china figurines. Peter and Haylee sat on the couch staring at our new blonde addition, Haylee with pure mothering sympathy in her eyes, Peter with one eyebrow raised in cold curiosity. The boy stared intently at me, rubbing the heel of his hand roughly against the blonde stubble that shadowed his jaw. He leaned against a doorframe that led into a bright kitchen and I stood at an armchair near the door. After several minutes, Peter spoke in a hard voice.
"Why don't you have anything boarded up against those things out there?" The boy was startled out of his concentration and dropped his eyes to the floor.
"They don't come near me," he replied with a shrug. More silence followed.
"So, why were you trying to off yourself, anyway?" Peter asked. Haylee gasped and smacked her brother hard in the back of his head. The blonde stared at him with wide eyes for a moment before dropping his gaze to the floor again, the tips of his ears red.
"I didn't know you were coming," he whispered, shooting a brief glance at me, "I thought... I thought it was just me."
"Like I Am Legend?" Peter asked seriously. I suppressed the urge to laugh. Surprisingly, the blonde boy did. His chuckle was low and hard, it sounded like sandpaper grating against wood.
"Except I don't even have a dog," he said with a grim smile.
"Can you do any freaky stuff, like with your mind?" Peter asked in a rush.
"Alright, alright, that's enough questions for now," Haylee said, standing from the couch, "I think we should all try and get some rest."
"I'll help you carry your bags to the bedrooms," the boy said and moved toward the backpacks at the front door. He had only taken a few steps when Haylee rushed over to him and wrapped her thin arms around his neck. He froze for a moment, startled, and then patted her back with a tiny, hard smile on his face. She took his face in her hands and stared into his eyes for a long time. Finally, she kissed his forehead and whispered into his ear. It was too low for me to hear, but when she pulled away he rubbed the back of his hand under his eyes quickly. Haylee grabbed a bag and headed up the stairs. Peter stood from the couch and the two men stared at each other for a long moment. For one fleeting second, I thought that Peter might hit him.
"What's your name, kid?" Peter asked.
"I'm Marc," the blonde said. After a minute, Peter squeezed the boy's shoulder, nodded once, and carried the other bags upstairs.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
the sad angel and peter's surprise
this one is a LOT longer than the other posts, so i apologize for the ridiculousness. i couldn't figure out where to seperate it and the two sections connect so closely that i decided to just present it this way so that you can get the full effect. this scene comes literally right after the last except for one exchange in between where Dakota argues with Peter because he insists upon sleeping only on the couch. the moment they all fall asleep, this is what they see. enjoy:
It was the first night we dreamed about him.
From the darkness of my unconscious mind, I could hear the digging before anything else. It was a heavy, consistent sound that chilled my bones even while I was perfectly aware that I was dreaming. The grind of metal against hard earth, the drag of a shovel, the thud scrape of effort and toil. Then the dream lightened and I could finally make him out. The boy was bent over the dark earth, shovel in hand, undertaking his task of digging a very deep hole. He paused for a moment, resting his shovel on a small mound of earth next to the hole that he stood in. He wiped his forearm across his face and held his hands out in front of him. Even in the darkness I could see the bleeding calluses throbbing against his tan skin. He had a mat of tangled hair that fell halfway down his cheeks. His hair was most visible in the half light; nearly white blonde it stood out against the darkness, catching the moonlight. He pushed the locks away with his hands, streaking the bright strands with trails of blood. He rose, pushing himself from the ground and disappearing from view. I waited anxiously for his return, my heart throbbing strangely in my chest with a strong mixture of pity and borrowed grief. Finally, he stumbled slowly to the edge of the hole again, laboring under the weight of a large sack in his arms. Somehow, I knew this was the body of his father. He lowered his burden gently into the dark hole and fell to his knees beside it. His brown arms trembled and his bright hair fell to cover his face. He sobbed loudly, strong waves of emotion rocking through his broad frame, making him appear almost childlike with weakness and vulnerability. He took his head in his hands and cried out like a wounded animal. My heart burst with suffering as I tried to call to him, willing myself into his existence to cradle him in my arms and slow his ragged breathing. He turned his twisted face to me, tightening my chest with the sadness that reflected in his crystal blue eyes.
Dakota, he whispered desperately into my ear, help me.
I woke up to several sounds at once. First I heard a sharp intake of breath as my own lungs gasped into consciousness. I sprang out of bed, the face of the blonde boy pounding in my memory, the sound of his painful plea screaming in my soul. Then, almost immediately after, I heard Haylee cry, "NO!" from the end of the hall, the pain in her voice cutting through the darkness. Then a crash sounded and thundering footsteps rang out as Peter leapt the stairs three at a time and flew past me to Haylee's room at the end of the hall. I followed after him with shaking legs.
Peter was on his knees on the floor in front of her where she sat with her trembling hands covering her face. Slowly, she looked at him with tears spilling down her cheeks. I could tell that all three of us were shaking, my teeth actually chattering with the effort to calm myself. After a long, silent moment, Haylee spoke in a raw voice.
"I... I had... a n-nightmare," she choked.
"So did I," I whispered. Her eyes searched my face.
"You saw him too?" she whispered. All I could do was nod.
Peter looked back and forth between us for several seconds, a hard, strained look on his face. I noticed for the first time how deeply etched the circles beneath his eyes were. I suddenly saw him very clearly in my mind, propped up on the couch each night listening hard for any sound of disturbance, barely sleeping at all. Then he rose to his feet and walked out into the hall without a word.
In the morning, none of us mentioned the episode from the previous night. Haylee busied herself silently over pancakes while Peter stared out the window at the still visitor in the backyard. We ate in silence and when Haylee cleared the plates, Peter collapsed onto the couch and snored softly. The day passed in much the same way. I sat at the kitchen table for most of the afternoon, reading through a few old magazines that I had found. Peter tossed in his sleep, now and then mumbled a few incoherent words. Haylee sat silently in the armchair in the living room, staring out at nothing.
As the room grew darker with dusk, Haylee rose from her chair, climbed the stairs, and slammed her bedroom door shut. Peter jerked awake on the couch and stared up after her. Several minutes passed until he came into the kitchen and pulled the fridge open. He threw a package of sandwich meat and a loaf of bread onto the table in front of me, making me jump. "We only have turkey," he muttered. He ate his dinner in the other room. Silent hours later, I made my way up to Peter's bedroom again. Haylee's door was still closed, an uneaten turkey sandwich on a paper plate lay outside on the floor. I left my door open and slid under the covers. A long time later, I let myself drift off to sleep. As soon as I was unconscious, he was waiting for me.
In the bright florescent light of the bathroom, his white blonde hair didn't look so shocking. It was still matted and dirty, caked blood clinging to it, but it flowed sweetly across his sunburned cheekbones, framing his light blue eyes. He looked like a forlorn depiction of an angel bearing some piece of sad news. I watched him hunched over a sink in the tiny bathroom, light soaking brightly into flowered wallpaper. His brown hands clutched the sides of the sink, pulling his skin white across the knuckles. He stared into the cracked mirror, fresh tears spilling endlessly into the basin. He took deep, slow breaths. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a long, gleaming butcher's knife. My heart accelerated in my ribcage, leaping into my throat.
He brought the knife slowly toward his left arm, stretched out in front of him. He pressed the sharp point to the soft skin in the crook of his elbow. He closed his eyes, tears clinging to his blonde eyelashes. I'm going to die today, he whispered into my ear. I screamed and screamed at him but no sound echoed into the tiny room. Under the pressure from his right hand, blood pooled around the point of the knife, dripping down his elbow and splattering on the white tiles. He held his breath and pushed the knife point further down. I felt his pain in the base of my stomach, pulsing through my own veins. And then suddenly, the knife was gone, and he held his empty fist hovering over his left arm, eyes wide with surprise. He collapsed onto the bathroom floor, sobbing and clutching his head in his hands.
My vision pulled away from him slowly as if I were backing out of the house. Soon I was standing in the little front yard next to a mound of freshly disturbed dirt. I could hear him crying through the open bathroom window. The house was yellow with white shutters, a wide corn field stretched out in the darkness behind the house and a water tower rose into the sky. I know this place, I thought to myself. I could suddenly remember a time when I had come down this street, not far outside the city, looking for a road that led back to the highway. Was the boy really so close? My heart ached again at the thought of his pain and I listened to his sobs in the darkness.
Dakota, he whispered, please come find me.
When I woke up in the morning, I could hear Haylee crying through the walls. I walked out into the hall to find Peter sitting on the floor outside of the closed bedroom door, looking miserable.
"Is she alright?" I asked quietly.
"What does it sound like?" he snapped, not meeting my eyes. I took a deep breath and rapped sharply on the door. Peter jumped to his feet and lingered close behind my shoulder.
"Haylee?" I said, hard and loud, "open the door." I had been expecting a fight, so I was stunned when the lock click and the door swung open. I was even more shocked when Haylee ran from the dark bedroom and threw herself into my arms. I patted her hair awkwardly, feeling her tears already soaking through my shirt.
"He n-needs me!" she wailed desperately. I continued to pat her back, at a loss for what to say. All my built up courage faded quickly from my mind. I was thankful when Peter took her gently into his arms and led her down into the kitchen.
With a blanket around her shoulders and a tall glass of water on the table in front of her, Haylee momentarily suppressed her sobs. Peter and I stood across from her, our arms folded across our chests.
"I'm going to go find him," Haylee said stubbornly. Peter snorted with cruel laughter at this idea.
"I have to go find him, Peter."
"You don't even know where he is!" he shouted.
"I do," I said quietly. They both stared at me, one pair of wondering eyes filled with tears and one pair of burning eyes filled with suspicion.
"Oh, Dakota," Haylee whispered gratefully, standing from the chair and letting the blanket fall to the ground, "thank you. We'll leave right away." She turned toward the stairs.
"Absolutely not!" Peter yelled again. It was staggering to hear him speak to his sister with such anger.
"Peter, you saw him!" Haylee yelled, matching him, "He needs our help, we have to go find him."
"You're not going anywhere!"
"I can't leave him."
"We don't even know that this guy exists!"
"Yes we do.”
“How?”
“Because we dreamed of Dakota!” she shouted. I sat heavily in the chair across the table. They fumed at each other for a moment and then looked over at me.
“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you,” she pleaded, “we didn’t want you to think we were crazy.” Peter snorted again and she looked back at her brother. “These dreams are the same.”
"So what?!" Peter screamed.
"So what?" Haylee widened her eyes in disbelief. "You saw him, Pete. He's lost everything. We know what that's like. I can't leave him. He's in so much pain, I just can't..." her voice trailed away, tears filling her eyes again. I was overcome with the memory of the blonde boy's face as he pushed the knife point deeper into his skin.
"Well, he's going to have to kick the bucket after all, because you can’t be his mommy." Haylee looked like she'd been slapped and I heard the air rush out of my lungs. The silence that followed hung heavily in the small room.
"I'm sorry, Peter," Haylee said with sad eyes and a tone of finality in her voice, "Dakota and I will be back as soon as we can." She turned again toward the door. Peter was across the remaining space in two strides. He grabbed her upper arms firmly in an iron grip and shook her slightly. His whole body was trembling, his face growing redder every second.
"Listen!" he bellowed, "I'm not losing you to some figment of our imaginations!"
"Peter, you know this is real," Haylee said, still calm.
"NO!" he shrieked, his face inches from hers, "we got hit by some freak nuclear blast and now we're out of our minds with crazy dreams and hallucinations! But we're not going out there with those things to chase some side effect of this shit!" The glass on the table began to shiver.
"I have to go find him."
"I'M NOT LETTING YOU OUT OF MY SIGHT!" he screamed. From the trembling glass, a thin spout of water rose from the surface. It stretched itself toward the ceiling, climbing a foot out of the cup and into the air. Peter stood there seething, breathing deeply, and the spout of water wound itself into a funnel, rotating in silence. It looked like the tiny cyclones that appear in the drain while the water runs out, except this was hanging in midair, spinning the glass in slow rotations on the table. It bent and flexed, rising higher and higher through the air.
"Guys?" was all I could manage to choke out. They must have heard the alarm in my voice because they both snapped their heads in my direction, their eyes slowly drawing to the water spout spinning on the kitchen table. We stared at in silence for one fleeting moment, Peter blinked hard, and the funnel collapsed into the glass sending water splashing out over the sides. We continued to stare as the silence stretched on, the water running in streams over the sides of the table and dripping loudly onto the floor. After a long time, Peter spoke in a broken whisper,
"Did I do that?"
It was the first night we dreamed about him.
From the darkness of my unconscious mind, I could hear the digging before anything else. It was a heavy, consistent sound that chilled my bones even while I was perfectly aware that I was dreaming. The grind of metal against hard earth, the drag of a shovel, the thud scrape of effort and toil. Then the dream lightened and I could finally make him out. The boy was bent over the dark earth, shovel in hand, undertaking his task of digging a very deep hole. He paused for a moment, resting his shovel on a small mound of earth next to the hole that he stood in. He wiped his forearm across his face and held his hands out in front of him. Even in the darkness I could see the bleeding calluses throbbing against his tan skin. He had a mat of tangled hair that fell halfway down his cheeks. His hair was most visible in the half light; nearly white blonde it stood out against the darkness, catching the moonlight. He pushed the locks away with his hands, streaking the bright strands with trails of blood. He rose, pushing himself from the ground and disappearing from view. I waited anxiously for his return, my heart throbbing strangely in my chest with a strong mixture of pity and borrowed grief. Finally, he stumbled slowly to the edge of the hole again, laboring under the weight of a large sack in his arms. Somehow, I knew this was the body of his father. He lowered his burden gently into the dark hole and fell to his knees beside it. His brown arms trembled and his bright hair fell to cover his face. He sobbed loudly, strong waves of emotion rocking through his broad frame, making him appear almost childlike with weakness and vulnerability. He took his head in his hands and cried out like a wounded animal. My heart burst with suffering as I tried to call to him, willing myself into his existence to cradle him in my arms and slow his ragged breathing. He turned his twisted face to me, tightening my chest with the sadness that reflected in his crystal blue eyes.
Dakota, he whispered desperately into my ear, help me.
I woke up to several sounds at once. First I heard a sharp intake of breath as my own lungs gasped into consciousness. I sprang out of bed, the face of the blonde boy pounding in my memory, the sound of his painful plea screaming in my soul. Then, almost immediately after, I heard Haylee cry, "NO!" from the end of the hall, the pain in her voice cutting through the darkness. Then a crash sounded and thundering footsteps rang out as Peter leapt the stairs three at a time and flew past me to Haylee's room at the end of the hall. I followed after him with shaking legs.
Peter was on his knees on the floor in front of her where she sat with her trembling hands covering her face. Slowly, she looked at him with tears spilling down her cheeks. I could tell that all three of us were shaking, my teeth actually chattering with the effort to calm myself. After a long, silent moment, Haylee spoke in a raw voice.
"I... I had... a n-nightmare," she choked.
"So did I," I whispered. Her eyes searched my face.
"You saw him too?" she whispered. All I could do was nod.
Peter looked back and forth between us for several seconds, a hard, strained look on his face. I noticed for the first time how deeply etched the circles beneath his eyes were. I suddenly saw him very clearly in my mind, propped up on the couch each night listening hard for any sound of disturbance, barely sleeping at all. Then he rose to his feet and walked out into the hall without a word.
In the morning, none of us mentioned the episode from the previous night. Haylee busied herself silently over pancakes while Peter stared out the window at the still visitor in the backyard. We ate in silence and when Haylee cleared the plates, Peter collapsed onto the couch and snored softly. The day passed in much the same way. I sat at the kitchen table for most of the afternoon, reading through a few old magazines that I had found. Peter tossed in his sleep, now and then mumbled a few incoherent words. Haylee sat silently in the armchair in the living room, staring out at nothing.
As the room grew darker with dusk, Haylee rose from her chair, climbed the stairs, and slammed her bedroom door shut. Peter jerked awake on the couch and stared up after her. Several minutes passed until he came into the kitchen and pulled the fridge open. He threw a package of sandwich meat and a loaf of bread onto the table in front of me, making me jump. "We only have turkey," he muttered. He ate his dinner in the other room. Silent hours later, I made my way up to Peter's bedroom again. Haylee's door was still closed, an uneaten turkey sandwich on a paper plate lay outside on the floor. I left my door open and slid under the covers. A long time later, I let myself drift off to sleep. As soon as I was unconscious, he was waiting for me.
In the bright florescent light of the bathroom, his white blonde hair didn't look so shocking. It was still matted and dirty, caked blood clinging to it, but it flowed sweetly across his sunburned cheekbones, framing his light blue eyes. He looked like a forlorn depiction of an angel bearing some piece of sad news. I watched him hunched over a sink in the tiny bathroom, light soaking brightly into flowered wallpaper. His brown hands clutched the sides of the sink, pulling his skin white across the knuckles. He stared into the cracked mirror, fresh tears spilling endlessly into the basin. He took deep, slow breaths. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a long, gleaming butcher's knife. My heart accelerated in my ribcage, leaping into my throat.
He brought the knife slowly toward his left arm, stretched out in front of him. He pressed the sharp point to the soft skin in the crook of his elbow. He closed his eyes, tears clinging to his blonde eyelashes. I'm going to die today, he whispered into my ear. I screamed and screamed at him but no sound echoed into the tiny room. Under the pressure from his right hand, blood pooled around the point of the knife, dripping down his elbow and splattering on the white tiles. He held his breath and pushed the knife point further down. I felt his pain in the base of my stomach, pulsing through my own veins. And then suddenly, the knife was gone, and he held his empty fist hovering over his left arm, eyes wide with surprise. He collapsed onto the bathroom floor, sobbing and clutching his head in his hands.
My vision pulled away from him slowly as if I were backing out of the house. Soon I was standing in the little front yard next to a mound of freshly disturbed dirt. I could hear him crying through the open bathroom window. The house was yellow with white shutters, a wide corn field stretched out in the darkness behind the house and a water tower rose into the sky. I know this place, I thought to myself. I could suddenly remember a time when I had come down this street, not far outside the city, looking for a road that led back to the highway. Was the boy really so close? My heart ached again at the thought of his pain and I listened to his sobs in the darkness.
Dakota, he whispered, please come find me.
When I woke up in the morning, I could hear Haylee crying through the walls. I walked out into the hall to find Peter sitting on the floor outside of the closed bedroom door, looking miserable.
"Is she alright?" I asked quietly.
"What does it sound like?" he snapped, not meeting my eyes. I took a deep breath and rapped sharply on the door. Peter jumped to his feet and lingered close behind my shoulder.
"Haylee?" I said, hard and loud, "open the door." I had been expecting a fight, so I was stunned when the lock click and the door swung open. I was even more shocked when Haylee ran from the dark bedroom and threw herself into my arms. I patted her hair awkwardly, feeling her tears already soaking through my shirt.
"He n-needs me!" she wailed desperately. I continued to pat her back, at a loss for what to say. All my built up courage faded quickly from my mind. I was thankful when Peter took her gently into his arms and led her down into the kitchen.
With a blanket around her shoulders and a tall glass of water on the table in front of her, Haylee momentarily suppressed her sobs. Peter and I stood across from her, our arms folded across our chests.
"I'm going to go find him," Haylee said stubbornly. Peter snorted with cruel laughter at this idea.
"I have to go find him, Peter."
"You don't even know where he is!" he shouted.
"I do," I said quietly. They both stared at me, one pair of wondering eyes filled with tears and one pair of burning eyes filled with suspicion.
"Oh, Dakota," Haylee whispered gratefully, standing from the chair and letting the blanket fall to the ground, "thank you. We'll leave right away." She turned toward the stairs.
"Absolutely not!" Peter yelled again. It was staggering to hear him speak to his sister with such anger.
"Peter, you saw him!" Haylee yelled, matching him, "He needs our help, we have to go find him."
"You're not going anywhere!"
"I can't leave him."
"We don't even know that this guy exists!"
"Yes we do.”
“How?”
“Because we dreamed of Dakota!” she shouted. I sat heavily in the chair across the table. They fumed at each other for a moment and then looked over at me.
“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you,” she pleaded, “we didn’t want you to think we were crazy.” Peter snorted again and she looked back at her brother. “These dreams are the same.”
"So what?!" Peter screamed.
"So what?" Haylee widened her eyes in disbelief. "You saw him, Pete. He's lost everything. We know what that's like. I can't leave him. He's in so much pain, I just can't..." her voice trailed away, tears filling her eyes again. I was overcome with the memory of the blonde boy's face as he pushed the knife point deeper into his skin.
"Well, he's going to have to kick the bucket after all, because you can’t be his mommy." Haylee looked like she'd been slapped and I heard the air rush out of my lungs. The silence that followed hung heavily in the small room.
"I'm sorry, Peter," Haylee said with sad eyes and a tone of finality in her voice, "Dakota and I will be back as soon as we can." She turned again toward the door. Peter was across the remaining space in two strides. He grabbed her upper arms firmly in an iron grip and shook her slightly. His whole body was trembling, his face growing redder every second.
"Listen!" he bellowed, "I'm not losing you to some figment of our imaginations!"
"Peter, you know this is real," Haylee said, still calm.
"NO!" he shrieked, his face inches from hers, "we got hit by some freak nuclear blast and now we're out of our minds with crazy dreams and hallucinations! But we're not going out there with those things to chase some side effect of this shit!" The glass on the table began to shiver.
"I have to go find him."
"I'M NOT LETTING YOU OUT OF MY SIGHT!" he screamed. From the trembling glass, a thin spout of water rose from the surface. It stretched itself toward the ceiling, climbing a foot out of the cup and into the air. Peter stood there seething, breathing deeply, and the spout of water wound itself into a funnel, rotating in silence. It looked like the tiny cyclones that appear in the drain while the water runs out, except this was hanging in midair, spinning the glass in slow rotations on the table. It bent and flexed, rising higher and higher through the air.
"Guys?" was all I could manage to choke out. They must have heard the alarm in my voice because they both snapped their heads in my direction, their eyes slowly drawing to the water spout spinning on the kitchen table. We stared at in silence for one fleeting moment, Peter blinked hard, and the funnel collapsed into the glass sending water splashing out over the sides. We continued to stare as the silence stretched on, the water running in streams over the sides of the table and dripping loudly onto the floor. After a long time, Peter spoke in a broken whisper,
"Did I do that?"
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
the shadow people
this next scene comes almost immediately after the last one that i posted. it's not SUPER exciting (the one after this will be a little bit more interesting) but this one has a lot of important information and character stuff in it, so i felt it was necessary for those of you reading along at home. :) all you've really missed is that Dakota has woken up at Peter and Haylee's house, had a rather hysterical episode as the experiences of the past few days have caught up with her, and spent a long time in the shower trying to organize her thoughts. so there we are, enjoy!
The steam faded from the mirror and I could make out my reflection. It was mostly unchanged; wide green eyes set in a pale, heart-shaped face, thin brown hair falling straight to my shoulders, broad lips, dark circles etched under my eyes. I was the same as always, and I was through with the meltdowns- it was completely unlike me. I was calculating, analytical, and logical. I prepared myself to get down to whatever needed to be done. When my hair had thoroughly dried itself, a soft knock came on the bathroom door.
"Are you alright, Dakota?" Haylee's voice called. I felt a brief, unexplainable relief that I had not dreamed her and turned to open the door. "Oh!" she said, startled. I was a little shocked to see both brother and sister standing on the landing, looking curious. Haylee attempted to hide her concern by standing up straighter but Peter retained his surveillance with his arms folded across his chest. I cracked a smile, it felt strange and foreign on my face.
"Are you going to fall down again?" Peter asked. Haylee threw her elbow into his ribs but he ignored her. I smiled again, this one felt better.
"Probably." I shrugged and we made our way back downstairs.
Haylee laid more food out on the table; a bowl of hot soup and a loaf of bread. Peter and I ate eagerly as Haylee smiled in appreciation at our appetites. When we had finished, Peter propped his feet up on the table and Haylee washed the plates. I waited until she was seated again, giving her brother an appraising look that made him quickly lower his feet to the ground, before I began my questions.
"What happened?" I figured it was best to start with the biggest question first.
"We don't know," Peter replied, "The sirens went off, we heard the bombs or whatever those explosions were, so we hid out in here. When it was over... this is what we found."
"Where are the other people?"
"We don't know that either," Haylee answered this time, sadness in her eyes. "We searched for three days before we even found you. You're the first person we've seen." Three days. I couldn't believe it was possible that I had slept in that bathtub for three days, but I pushed it aside.
"Where have you looked?"
"Everywhere." Peter answered immediately. "We've been all over the city. There's no one here."
"Where could they be?" I asked, perplexed.
"Well..." he began, surveying my face for any hint of weakness, "there are bodies. In the streets and in the buildings, but there's no one alive like us." I swallowed hard.
"There could still be others," Haylee added, covering my hand with hers in comfort, "but we just don't know where they could be. It's hard to believe they got out of the city so fast, when we've been looking for any sign of life, but it's possible."
"No radio or television?" I asked my next important question.
"No," he said, clenching his fist in frustration. "Not a thing. No warning or announcement or explanation. Nothing." We were quiet again. I turned my full attention to Peter.
"You said something before, in the street," he looked embarrassed for a moment and then smoothed his face again, "about me being one of them. What did you mean? One of what?" He exchanged a heavy look with his sister who shook her head once, very slightly.
"I want to know," I said harshly. "I need to know everything. I wont fall down again," I added with a tight smile. Peter took a deep breath.
"Well... we're not really sure what they are. But they're not... human. It doesn't seem like it, anyway." He sighed again.
It took me a moment to register what he had said. The words slowly slid into my conscious mind, audibly clicking into meaning one by one. Suddenly, it seemed certain to me that I was having some horrible dream. It felt real, though. I could feel my fingernails digging into the wood of the tabletop. I could feel my heart thudding dully in my chest, denying any reality of the words that were being spoken. I could feel Haylee's eyes on me and the quiet throb of my muscles. But it couldn't be real. I desperately raked through my store of excuses and explanations, seeking out one that would explain the new world that I had woken to. What was the last thing I remembered? Had someone poisoned me? Had I hit my head?
"Here," Peter said, breaking my train of thoughts, "I'll show you."
"Peter, I don't know if now is the best time," Haylee whispered quickly to him. He ignored her, pushing away from the table and making his way to a small, boarded up window near the back of the room. She caught his arm as he went.
"Pete, really," her forehead creased again, "let's wait until tomorrow. She's exhausted."
"I'm alright," I defended, standing to follow him. She held his eyes for a long moment.
"I wouldn't know how to describe them, Hal. She'll be alright." She lowered her hand in defeat but nodded her head. We both followed him to the window.
"Just don't yell or anything, alright?" Peter said. He slid one of the wooden boards aside, revealing a small view into a tiny backyard. The sun was hidden behind the clouds and already very low in the sky, smothering the little yard in shadow. My eyes adjusted for a moment before I could make out a dark shape lurking several feet away, facing the house. I bit down on my lip to hold back a gasp and willed my heart not to make so much noise. The figure of a man stood facing where we watching, barely moving. He was hardly distinguishable from the dull fog floating through the air, except for his eyes. Deep in his hollow face, bright red eyes stared unblinking out into the falling night. It wasn't just the irises that were red, but the entire eye. His dark skin blended into the shadows and the dust particles floated straight through him. The only movement that he seemed to be making was a slight blurring around the edges.
"He shimmers, right?" Peter whispered, as if hearing my thoughts. "You should see him in the sun, it's like... heat waves or something. You can see right through him."
"Who is he?" I croaked, unable to control the volume of my voice.
"We don't know. We just looked out one morning a few days ago and he was there. He hasn't budged since. We don't think he knows that we're here because... well... let's just make sure that he doesn't know we're here."
"But... can he hurt us if he's not... solid?" The words sounded insane to me.
"Yes," Haylee answered solemnly. "The first morning there were two in the street. They didn't seem to notice much around them but went after each other pretty viciously. They slammed together and the sound was incredible. They might not solid but they're clearly... tough. They knocked each other around, breaking windows and busting cars. And then the bigger one just..."
"Tore the other one apart," Peter finished, sliding the board closed once more. "They're gross, aren't they?" he asked to no one in particular. I stayed rooted to the tiles beneath me. Haylee laid a hand on my shoulder.
"I think we should all get some sleep," she said, with no room for argument.
The steam faded from the mirror and I could make out my reflection. It was mostly unchanged; wide green eyes set in a pale, heart-shaped face, thin brown hair falling straight to my shoulders, broad lips, dark circles etched under my eyes. I was the same as always, and I was through with the meltdowns- it was completely unlike me. I was calculating, analytical, and logical. I prepared myself to get down to whatever needed to be done. When my hair had thoroughly dried itself, a soft knock came on the bathroom door.
"Are you alright, Dakota?" Haylee's voice called. I felt a brief, unexplainable relief that I had not dreamed her and turned to open the door. "Oh!" she said, startled. I was a little shocked to see both brother and sister standing on the landing, looking curious. Haylee attempted to hide her concern by standing up straighter but Peter retained his surveillance with his arms folded across his chest. I cracked a smile, it felt strange and foreign on my face.
"Are you going to fall down again?" Peter asked. Haylee threw her elbow into his ribs but he ignored her. I smiled again, this one felt better.
"Probably." I shrugged and we made our way back downstairs.
Haylee laid more food out on the table; a bowl of hot soup and a loaf of bread. Peter and I ate eagerly as Haylee smiled in appreciation at our appetites. When we had finished, Peter propped his feet up on the table and Haylee washed the plates. I waited until she was seated again, giving her brother an appraising look that made him quickly lower his feet to the ground, before I began my questions.
"What happened?" I figured it was best to start with the biggest question first.
"We don't know," Peter replied, "The sirens went off, we heard the bombs or whatever those explosions were, so we hid out in here. When it was over... this is what we found."
"Where are the other people?"
"We don't know that either," Haylee answered this time, sadness in her eyes. "We searched for three days before we even found you. You're the first person we've seen." Three days. I couldn't believe it was possible that I had slept in that bathtub for three days, but I pushed it aside.
"Where have you looked?"
"Everywhere." Peter answered immediately. "We've been all over the city. There's no one here."
"Where could they be?" I asked, perplexed.
"Well..." he began, surveying my face for any hint of weakness, "there are bodies. In the streets and in the buildings, but there's no one alive like us." I swallowed hard.
"There could still be others," Haylee added, covering my hand with hers in comfort, "but we just don't know where they could be. It's hard to believe they got out of the city so fast, when we've been looking for any sign of life, but it's possible."
"No radio or television?" I asked my next important question.
"No," he said, clenching his fist in frustration. "Not a thing. No warning or announcement or explanation. Nothing." We were quiet again. I turned my full attention to Peter.
"You said something before, in the street," he looked embarrassed for a moment and then smoothed his face again, "about me being one of them. What did you mean? One of what?" He exchanged a heavy look with his sister who shook her head once, very slightly.
"I want to know," I said harshly. "I need to know everything. I wont fall down again," I added with a tight smile. Peter took a deep breath.
"Well... we're not really sure what they are. But they're not... human. It doesn't seem like it, anyway." He sighed again.
It took me a moment to register what he had said. The words slowly slid into my conscious mind, audibly clicking into meaning one by one. Suddenly, it seemed certain to me that I was having some horrible dream. It felt real, though. I could feel my fingernails digging into the wood of the tabletop. I could feel my heart thudding dully in my chest, denying any reality of the words that were being spoken. I could feel Haylee's eyes on me and the quiet throb of my muscles. But it couldn't be real. I desperately raked through my store of excuses and explanations, seeking out one that would explain the new world that I had woken to. What was the last thing I remembered? Had someone poisoned me? Had I hit my head?
"Here," Peter said, breaking my train of thoughts, "I'll show you."
"Peter, I don't know if now is the best time," Haylee whispered quickly to him. He ignored her, pushing away from the table and making his way to a small, boarded up window near the back of the room. She caught his arm as he went.
"Pete, really," her forehead creased again, "let's wait until tomorrow. She's exhausted."
"I'm alright," I defended, standing to follow him. She held his eyes for a long moment.
"I wouldn't know how to describe them, Hal. She'll be alright." She lowered her hand in defeat but nodded her head. We both followed him to the window.
"Just don't yell or anything, alright?" Peter said. He slid one of the wooden boards aside, revealing a small view into a tiny backyard. The sun was hidden behind the clouds and already very low in the sky, smothering the little yard in shadow. My eyes adjusted for a moment before I could make out a dark shape lurking several feet away, facing the house. I bit down on my lip to hold back a gasp and willed my heart not to make so much noise. The figure of a man stood facing where we watching, barely moving. He was hardly distinguishable from the dull fog floating through the air, except for his eyes. Deep in his hollow face, bright red eyes stared unblinking out into the falling night. It wasn't just the irises that were red, but the entire eye. His dark skin blended into the shadows and the dust particles floated straight through him. The only movement that he seemed to be making was a slight blurring around the edges.
"He shimmers, right?" Peter whispered, as if hearing my thoughts. "You should see him in the sun, it's like... heat waves or something. You can see right through him."
"Who is he?" I croaked, unable to control the volume of my voice.
"We don't know. We just looked out one morning a few days ago and he was there. He hasn't budged since. We don't think he knows that we're here because... well... let's just make sure that he doesn't know we're here."
"But... can he hurt us if he's not... solid?" The words sounded insane to me.
"Yes," Haylee answered solemnly. "The first morning there were two in the street. They didn't seem to notice much around them but went after each other pretty viciously. They slammed together and the sound was incredible. They might not solid but they're clearly... tough. They knocked each other around, breaking windows and busting cars. And then the bigger one just..."
"Tore the other one apart," Peter finished, sliding the board closed once more. "They're gross, aren't they?" he asked to no one in particular. I stayed rooted to the tiles beneath me. Haylee laid a hand on my shoulder.
"I think we should all get some sleep," she said, with no room for argument.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
searching for Haylee
Here is a little bit of the story I've been working on as of late. I won't be posting the whole thing, just some of the more important and interesting scenes (in my opinion, anyway). I'll be posting them in order so that it's more easy to follow.
This scene comes after the first part of the story in which the main character, Dakota, experiences the city basically being blown apart. She hides in her bathtub for several days while explosions and screams fill the streets. She has no idea what has happened, so, neither do you. :) She finally crawls out of the bathroom, exhausted, terrified, and as you'll see: thirsty. Enjoy.
I filled the mug with water and gulped greedily, ignoring the searing pain in my throat. I drank and refilled several times before finally setting it, still half full, on the cracked countertop. As I took my hand away from it, the water in the mug began to tremble. I listened carefully for evidence of more explosions, anything that might be causing the floor to shake again, but there was silence. The water continued to shiver. A cry broke through the air. My muscles froze and I clamped my hand against the counter for support. Someone was yelling outside. I turned and plunged toward the door.
The street was in ruins. The gray half-light illuminated crumbled buildings and smoldering cars. Dust rolled through the streets like fog, melting shapes and colors. Everything was gray, still, and quiet. Finally, a deep sob broke the silence, sounding closer than before. A figure emerged from the smog, stumbling through the wreckage in the street. He looked young, no more than twenty, with thick dark hair plastered against pale skin. His shirt hung in shreds and his forehead was bleeding. "Haylee!" he choked. He passed the back of his hand over his eyes and stumbled forward. "Haylee!" he cried again, his voice raw. He drew level with the open door and fell to his knees, consumed by a fit of heavy sobs that shook his broad shoulders. He pulled his hands furiously through his dark hair again and again. After a moment, he pushed himself from the ground. "HAYLEE!!!" he screamed, thick with pain. Without really knowing what I was doing, I stepped out onto the stoop.
He stared at me, surprise in his dark eyes, his face slick with dirt and tears. The relief faded immediately and he choked back a sob. I took a step down the stairs toward him. "Stay right there!" he choked again, putting his hand out in front of him. His face was angry now and, unbelievably, afraid. I took another step onto the street. "I SAID DON'T MOVE!" he screamed. I froze, my heart pounding. Tears spilled onto his torn shirt and he hung his head, sucking in deep breaths. After a second he looked up again, his arms limp at his side. "If you're one of those things, I swear to God..." he trailed off, sounding defeated. I remained frozen, suddenly unsure if I was dreaming or awake. "Where's my sister?" he pleaded in a raw whisper. I took another step toward him. He recoiled. "Please," he begged, "please. Where's my sister?"
"I... I'm Dakota." I finally choked. His face froze with shock as if he had been expecting anything else but for me to speak to him. "I... live here." I added, as if that would clarify. He shook his head back and forth very slowly for a moment.
"You're not one of them?" he said, almost silently. I took another step toward him and this time he didn't retreat.
"I don't know who you mean, but it's just me here. You're the only other person I've seen." He stared silently. "You're... you're bleeding." I added, feeling foolish. He stared in shock for one more moment and then composed his face into a fierce mask.
"If you're not one of those things, than what the hell are we standing around for?" His voice was bitter as he spun on his heel and pounded away down the street. "Haylee!" he resumed his yelling, harder this time and determined. I did the only thing that I could think of to do and followed him, calling his sister's name at intervals, more quietly and self-consciously.
We walked on another block or so. I finally pulled up even with him as he continued to call for her, the grey air rolling by like waves. We rounded a corner and heard rustling near a dumpster ahead of us. He threw out his arm and stopped me, knocking the breath out of my lungs. "Haylee?" he asked, his voice shaking. I figure slowly appeared through the dust from behind the dumpster. "Peter?" a tiny voice called.
It took only one moment for him to confirm her identity and then he rushed forward, pulling her into his chest. They looked remarkably alike, even through the dense fog. They wore the same thick black hair, except that hers fell to her shoulders in big waves. He was only slightly taller than her, with a more muscular build, but they had the same oval face slick with tears and twisted with relief. He took her head in his hands and examined her face eagerly. He was searching, I was immediately sure, for any signs of hurt or damage. She equally surveyed him and placed a trembling white hand against the gash on his forehead. When he was apparently satisfied that she was unhurt, he choked another sob and repeated her name in a whisper. He began to speak fervently into her face, shaking her gently with his big hands.
"You stupid, selfish asshole," he said with a pained face that did not show any hint of anger. "How the hell did you get here any why, why would you do this to me?" Unexpectedly, she smiled, though tears still traced down her face.
"Peter, I am so sorry. I can’t imagine what you've been through this morning." Even their voices were alike.
"I could kill you," he said, though not convincingly, there was still no trace of anger in his voice. "How did you get here?" he repeated. Her hands dropped to her sides and she looked embarrassed though she did not look away from his face for a moment.
"I don't know," she said finally. "I woke up here and then I heard you calling me."
"You woke up here?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows.
"Yes. I'm sorry." I could not doubt for one second that she meant it.
"I woke up and you weren't..." his throat closed around the words and he swallowed to continue, "you weren't there. I didn't know... I couldn’t..." She covered his hands with her own.
"I'm so sorry, Peter," she said again. He closed his eyes and she added with a soft smile, "Let's go home."
She turned her eyes on me for the first time. She gasped and staggered back. The sound made me jump and made Peter look in my direction as if he had forgotten that I was there.
"It's ok," he said, though I wasn't sure who the words were meant for.
"She's not...?" Haylee began, staring at me with wide eyes.
"No, I found her when I was looking for you." She looked at me with calculating eyes for another long moment and then came toward me in three quick steps, taking my head in her hands like her brother had taken hers. I stared into her pale face, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Are you alright?" she asked me, her eyes concerned. All I could do was nod my head. She pulled my arm over her shoulders, taking some of my weight onto her own small frame. After a moment, I felt Peter's arm slide around my waist and together they dragged me back up the dark and damaged streets. I was unconscious before we had even passed my apartment again.
This scene comes after the first part of the story in which the main character, Dakota, experiences the city basically being blown apart. She hides in her bathtub for several days while explosions and screams fill the streets. She has no idea what has happened, so, neither do you. :) She finally crawls out of the bathroom, exhausted, terrified, and as you'll see: thirsty. Enjoy.
I filled the mug with water and gulped greedily, ignoring the searing pain in my throat. I drank and refilled several times before finally setting it, still half full, on the cracked countertop. As I took my hand away from it, the water in the mug began to tremble. I listened carefully for evidence of more explosions, anything that might be causing the floor to shake again, but there was silence. The water continued to shiver. A cry broke through the air. My muscles froze and I clamped my hand against the counter for support. Someone was yelling outside. I turned and plunged toward the door.
The street was in ruins. The gray half-light illuminated crumbled buildings and smoldering cars. Dust rolled through the streets like fog, melting shapes and colors. Everything was gray, still, and quiet. Finally, a deep sob broke the silence, sounding closer than before. A figure emerged from the smog, stumbling through the wreckage in the street. He looked young, no more than twenty, with thick dark hair plastered against pale skin. His shirt hung in shreds and his forehead was bleeding. "Haylee!" he choked. He passed the back of his hand over his eyes and stumbled forward. "Haylee!" he cried again, his voice raw. He drew level with the open door and fell to his knees, consumed by a fit of heavy sobs that shook his broad shoulders. He pulled his hands furiously through his dark hair again and again. After a moment, he pushed himself from the ground. "HAYLEE!!!" he screamed, thick with pain. Without really knowing what I was doing, I stepped out onto the stoop.
He stared at me, surprise in his dark eyes, his face slick with dirt and tears. The relief faded immediately and he choked back a sob. I took a step down the stairs toward him. "Stay right there!" he choked again, putting his hand out in front of him. His face was angry now and, unbelievably, afraid. I took another step onto the street. "I SAID DON'T MOVE!" he screamed. I froze, my heart pounding. Tears spilled onto his torn shirt and he hung his head, sucking in deep breaths. After a second he looked up again, his arms limp at his side. "If you're one of those things, I swear to God..." he trailed off, sounding defeated. I remained frozen, suddenly unsure if I was dreaming or awake. "Where's my sister?" he pleaded in a raw whisper. I took another step toward him. He recoiled. "Please," he begged, "please. Where's my sister?"
"I... I'm Dakota." I finally choked. His face froze with shock as if he had been expecting anything else but for me to speak to him. "I... live here." I added, as if that would clarify. He shook his head back and forth very slowly for a moment.
"You're not one of them?" he said, almost silently. I took another step toward him and this time he didn't retreat.
"I don't know who you mean, but it's just me here. You're the only other person I've seen." He stared silently. "You're... you're bleeding." I added, feeling foolish. He stared in shock for one more moment and then composed his face into a fierce mask.
"If you're not one of those things, than what the hell are we standing around for?" His voice was bitter as he spun on his heel and pounded away down the street. "Haylee!" he resumed his yelling, harder this time and determined. I did the only thing that I could think of to do and followed him, calling his sister's name at intervals, more quietly and self-consciously.
We walked on another block or so. I finally pulled up even with him as he continued to call for her, the grey air rolling by like waves. We rounded a corner and heard rustling near a dumpster ahead of us. He threw out his arm and stopped me, knocking the breath out of my lungs. "Haylee?" he asked, his voice shaking. I figure slowly appeared through the dust from behind the dumpster. "Peter?" a tiny voice called.
It took only one moment for him to confirm her identity and then he rushed forward, pulling her into his chest. They looked remarkably alike, even through the dense fog. They wore the same thick black hair, except that hers fell to her shoulders in big waves. He was only slightly taller than her, with a more muscular build, but they had the same oval face slick with tears and twisted with relief. He took her head in his hands and examined her face eagerly. He was searching, I was immediately sure, for any signs of hurt or damage. She equally surveyed him and placed a trembling white hand against the gash on his forehead. When he was apparently satisfied that she was unhurt, he choked another sob and repeated her name in a whisper. He began to speak fervently into her face, shaking her gently with his big hands.
"You stupid, selfish asshole," he said with a pained face that did not show any hint of anger. "How the hell did you get here any why, why would you do this to me?" Unexpectedly, she smiled, though tears still traced down her face.
"Peter, I am so sorry. I can’t imagine what you've been through this morning." Even their voices were alike.
"I could kill you," he said, though not convincingly, there was still no trace of anger in his voice. "How did you get here?" he repeated. Her hands dropped to her sides and she looked embarrassed though she did not look away from his face for a moment.
"I don't know," she said finally. "I woke up here and then I heard you calling me."
"You woke up here?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows.
"Yes. I'm sorry." I could not doubt for one second that she meant it.
"I woke up and you weren't..." his throat closed around the words and he swallowed to continue, "you weren't there. I didn't know... I couldn’t..." She covered his hands with her own.
"I'm so sorry, Peter," she said again. He closed his eyes and she added with a soft smile, "Let's go home."
She turned her eyes on me for the first time. She gasped and staggered back. The sound made me jump and made Peter look in my direction as if he had forgotten that I was there.
"It's ok," he said, though I wasn't sure who the words were meant for.
"She's not...?" Haylee began, staring at me with wide eyes.
"No, I found her when I was looking for you." She looked at me with calculating eyes for another long moment and then came toward me in three quick steps, taking my head in her hands like her brother had taken hers. I stared into her pale face, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Are you alright?" she asked me, her eyes concerned. All I could do was nod my head. She pulled my arm over her shoulders, taking some of my weight onto her own small frame. After a moment, I felt Peter's arm slide around my waist and together they dragged me back up the dark and damaged streets. I was unconscious before we had even passed my apartment again.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
a beginning
i find that in most things i do, artistic or otherwise, i lack confidence in my choices. i pour effort and emotion into what i'm doing, but second guess myself. i end up standing in front of my ideas with my arms open wide, cringing and hiding them from view, rather than standing behind them with a proud smirk on my face that may or may not say, "take that, sucker". this is my attempt at trusting my choices, honoring my efforts, and giving my ideas a little room to breathe. they can't like it stuck up in my brain all the time, after all, it gets a little cramped.
so, this is my little project for myself. i'm going to post a bit of whatever happens to be occupying my musings at the time and see how it looks and feels from a different view. it may be poetry, fiction, script, or just my thoughts (the most needful of all!) in doing this i hope to gain perspective, new ideas, and always, always learn something about myself. it will also hopefully encourage me to revise and open myself up to suggestions and criticism. eek! so, if you're reading this, enjoy. or don't enjoy, but tell me about it either way.
so, this is my little project for myself. i'm going to post a bit of whatever happens to be occupying my musings at the time and see how it looks and feels from a different view. it may be poetry, fiction, script, or just my thoughts (the most needful of all!) in doing this i hope to gain perspective, new ideas, and always, always learn something about myself. it will also hopefully encourage me to revise and open myself up to suggestions and criticism. eek! so, if you're reading this, enjoy. or don't enjoy, but tell me about it either way.
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