“All this. All for me?” Bob gestured a the fallen bodies, the charred buildings.
Carolyn emptied her handgun, tucked it into her pack.
“All my life was for you.”
Bob blinked rapidly. His breath hitched in his chest. “Did you ever really love me?”
Scott and Clay glared daggers at her, daring her to answer any other way than yes.
She stepped closer to Bob, then closer again, and leaned up. He leaned down so their foreheads were touching, and she curled a hand around the nape of his neck. For a long moment they stood there, just breathing with each other, a whisper away from a kiss.
Then Carolyn spoke, too softly for the other boys to hear.
“I picked up a gun when I was six years old, first killed a man when I was ten. I learned seven languages and how to withstand torture, just so I could keep you alive. They taught me everything I know, but the one thing I never learned was how to love.”
Bob’s eyes slipped closed, and a sob caught in his throat.
Carolyn whispered, “Thank you for trying to teach me, Robbie.”
Bob tilted his head forward, and their lips brushed, not quite a kiss. He settle a hand on her waist to tug her closer, seal their embrace, and then someone said,
“Agent Pierce!”
And she was gone. Carolyn spun away before their mouths could meet and shouldered her pack. She snapped off a salute at a man in a uniform and fell into step with him.
Bob let his hands fall to his sides and opened his eyes, watched her walk away. Dan went to put a hand on his shoulder, but Clay shook his head.
“What just happened?” Scott asked, voice faint.
“I think,” Bob said, voice thick with emotion, “that she just saved my life.”
“Think we’ll ever see her again?” Dan asked.
“Except for the past twenty-four hours, I don’t think we ever saw her at all,” Clay said.
Scott put a hand on Bob’s arm. “Come on. We’re going home.”
(347 words - "The Funeral" by Band of Horses)
Saturday, June 13, 2009
On Our Own
Scott was sure this was a nightmare. He’d had one just like it as a child. He’d wake up in his bedroom and find his brothers slaughtered in bed beside him, throats dripping with blood. Only he was in a hotel room this time, and his brothers were yelling at the sight of black-uniformed men sprawled across the beds and floor, throats cut. Carolyn stood in the doorway, holding a knife. Her hands were covered in blood. She cast the knife aside and drew a gun from somewhere beneath her jacket, and then she shouted for Bob.
“Robbie! Come on - we have to get out of here!”
He hesitated, then scrambled off his bed. He yelped when he accidentally kicked one of the bodies.
“What about us?” Dan asked. He was breathing rapidly, but he was calm.
“John’s on the way - he’ll make sure you’re secure. Bob’s my priority.” Carolyn held out her hand. “C’mon, Robbie.”
An explosion rocked the building.
The dream-like buzzing that had filled Scott’s head since he’d awakened cut off abruptly. “What’s going on?”
John appeared in the doorway, and he was armed with a gun as well. “We’re federal agents. We have the situation under control. Come quickly and quietly.”
Dan obeyed first, and he had to tug on Clay’s arm to get him to follow, which he did, dazed.
Carolyn laced her fingers with Bob’s. “Let’s go.”
Bob stared down at the blood that stained her hands. “Did you kill all those men?”
The chatter of machine-gun fire broke him out of his dazed. John flung himself to the floor and fumbled for his walkie-talkie. Carolyn tackled Bob down, and Dan dragged Clay down to the carpet, so Scott followed suit. He didn’t even know where the sound was coming from.
John flipped his walkie-talkie on. “Agents Simon and Pierce. We’re on the third floor under heavy enemy fire, and we have the package. Requesting backup immediately.”
The only response was static.
John swore. “Combat command’s been hit. Raid the corpses.”
Scott could only stare as Carolyn reached out and tugged an assault rifle off of the nearest fallen body.
“What’s going on?” he asked again.
Carolyn patted the body down for more ammo. “We’re on our own. How are you with a gun?”
(385 words - "Spybreak" by Propellerheads)
“Robbie! Come on - we have to get out of here!”
He hesitated, then scrambled off his bed. He yelped when he accidentally kicked one of the bodies.
“What about us?” Dan asked. He was breathing rapidly, but he was calm.
“John’s on the way - he’ll make sure you’re secure. Bob’s my priority.” Carolyn held out her hand. “C’mon, Robbie.”
An explosion rocked the building.
The dream-like buzzing that had filled Scott’s head since he’d awakened cut off abruptly. “What’s going on?”
John appeared in the doorway, and he was armed with a gun as well. “We’re federal agents. We have the situation under control. Come quickly and quietly.”
Dan obeyed first, and he had to tug on Clay’s arm to get him to follow, which he did, dazed.
Carolyn laced her fingers with Bob’s. “Let’s go.”
Bob stared down at the blood that stained her hands. “Did you kill all those men?”
The chatter of machine-gun fire broke him out of his dazed. John flung himself to the floor and fumbled for his walkie-talkie. Carolyn tackled Bob down, and Dan dragged Clay down to the carpet, so Scott followed suit. He didn’t even know where the sound was coming from.
John flipped his walkie-talkie on. “Agents Simon and Pierce. We’re on the third floor under heavy enemy fire, and we have the package. Requesting backup immediately.”
The only response was static.
John swore. “Combat command’s been hit. Raid the corpses.”
Scott could only stare as Carolyn reached out and tugged an assault rifle off of the nearest fallen body.
“What’s going on?” he asked again.
Carolyn patted the body down for more ammo. “We’re on our own. How are you with a gun?”
(385 words - "Spybreak" by Propellerheads)
Internet Phenomenon
Bryan sat typing rapidly at his computer. Nothing seemed to be going right today. Bryan glanced up at the clock again and sighed. He knew he was not going to be able to leave for another forty-five minutes. He was going to be late for his date.
Shaking his head he turned back to his computer. He knew that there was no way he would be able to get this done faster, and Mark had flatly refused to file the report for him.
Bryan opened another browser on his computer and quickly searched out the site and file that he needed to complete his report. He clicked on the link that would give him the information that he needed.
Suddenly sound blared out of his computers speakers.
Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you
Bryan jerked back and desperately tried to close the window, his computer seemingly frozen, the song still playing loudly.
Suddenly the music cut out, the screen going blank. Bryan turned in confusion. He saw Steve holding the power cord for his computer.
"Dude, did you just get Rickrolled?" Steve asked in disbelief.
"I guess I did," Bryan groaned and dropped his head to the keyboard.
"It's not as bad as all that. Annoying, but not anything to get worked up about," said Steve, patting Bryan on the shoulder.
"That's not it. I have to do that whole report again," Bryan said, lifting his head and dropping it again onto the board.
Shaking his head he turned back to his computer. He knew that there was no way he would be able to get this done faster, and Mark had flatly refused to file the report for him.
Bryan opened another browser on his computer and quickly searched out the site and file that he needed to complete his report. He clicked on the link that would give him the information that he needed.
Suddenly sound blared out of his computers speakers.
Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you
Bryan jerked back and desperately tried to close the window, his computer seemingly frozen, the song still playing loudly.
Suddenly the music cut out, the screen going blank. Bryan turned in confusion. He saw Steve holding the power cord for his computer.
"Dude, did you just get Rickrolled?" Steve asked in disbelief.
"I guess I did," Bryan groaned and dropped his head to the keyboard.
"It's not as bad as all that. Annoying, but not anything to get worked up about," said Steve, patting Bryan on the shoulder.
"That's not it. I have to do that whole report again," Bryan said, lifting his head and dropping it again onto the board.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
What You Seem
Dan leaned in the doorway and watched Carolyn kick her duffel bag under the bed. She was good, and no one had noticed that it wasn’t the same duffel bag where she kept her books and CDs, but Dan was more observant than his brothers usually gave him credit for. Carolyn went to tug the gun from its holster in the small of her back, and then she turned.
“Danny.” Her expression was - blank, completely devoid of emotion, and she looked curiously adult. She held herself with a strange assurance that Dan had never seen before, because whenever she was hanging off of Bob’s arm insisting he couldn’t beat her at Tekken, she was the unsure tomboy in a skirt, never comfortable in her own skin. Whoever she was here, she was completely confident of her capabilities, and Dan couldn’t begin to imagine what they were.
“No one else has noticed,” he said.
She kept her hand near the gun. “I must be getting sloppy.”
“I know you’re not - what you seem.” Dan took a step forward, hands raised in a gesture of surrender. “I just --”
Carolyn’s expression shifted, became wary, and then she pushed past him, closed the door. Then she turned to him, and though her mouth was still curiously blank, her dark eyes were feverishly bright. “Danny, I can’t tell you what’s going on, but I promise you that my ultimate goal is to protect.”
“Protect Bob, right? I mean, Scott’s half in love with you, and Clay would slit his wrists over you if he were an emo boy, and you know all that. But you stick with Bob. I -- do you love him?”
Carolyn’s eyes fluttered closed, her lashes forming a dark crescents against her cheeks, and she took a deep breath. “I’d die for him.”
That wasn’t the same as loving him, but Dan knew, instinctively, that Carolyn was telling the truth. He tilted his head to the side. “How long?”
“How long what?”
“Have you done what you’ve done?”
A small, sad smile curved Carolyn’s lips. “Studies show that children around the age of six learn fastest, especially for things like marksmanship.”
Dan felt cold horror shiver down his spine.
But then Carolyn shrugged. “At least I know you’ll listen to me if we end up in danger and I take over.”
“Yeah,” Dan said faintly.
“I know about you, too, by the way.” Carolyn drew her gun and checked it.
“What do you mean?”
“We’re taught to observe interpersonal relationships, and...Michael has no clue how you feel, and you’d best not tell him.” Carolyn met his gaze.
Dan felt his throat close. “I --”
“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.” Carolyn holstered the gun again. “Trust me. One day your life might depend on it.”
Dan nodded. “Okay. And - thanks.” He started for the door.
Carolyn reached out and caught his wrist. “I do love Robert. I want you to know that.”
“Why?”
“Because no one else ever can.”
(498 Words - "Leave Out All The Rest" by Linkin Park; I had song ADD tonight and the song I originally wanted to use was not on YouTube)
“Danny.” Her expression was - blank, completely devoid of emotion, and she looked curiously adult. She held herself with a strange assurance that Dan had never seen before, because whenever she was hanging off of Bob’s arm insisting he couldn’t beat her at Tekken, she was the unsure tomboy in a skirt, never comfortable in her own skin. Whoever she was here, she was completely confident of her capabilities, and Dan couldn’t begin to imagine what they were.
“No one else has noticed,” he said.
She kept her hand near the gun. “I must be getting sloppy.”
“I know you’re not - what you seem.” Dan took a step forward, hands raised in a gesture of surrender. “I just --”
Carolyn’s expression shifted, became wary, and then she pushed past him, closed the door. Then she turned to him, and though her mouth was still curiously blank, her dark eyes were feverishly bright. “Danny, I can’t tell you what’s going on, but I promise you that my ultimate goal is to protect.”
“Protect Bob, right? I mean, Scott’s half in love with you, and Clay would slit his wrists over you if he were an emo boy, and you know all that. But you stick with Bob. I -- do you love him?”
Carolyn’s eyes fluttered closed, her lashes forming a dark crescents against her cheeks, and she took a deep breath. “I’d die for him.”
That wasn’t the same as loving him, but Dan knew, instinctively, that Carolyn was telling the truth. He tilted his head to the side. “How long?”
“How long what?”
“Have you done what you’ve done?”
A small, sad smile curved Carolyn’s lips. “Studies show that children around the age of six learn fastest, especially for things like marksmanship.”
Dan felt cold horror shiver down his spine.
But then Carolyn shrugged. “At least I know you’ll listen to me if we end up in danger and I take over.”
“Yeah,” Dan said faintly.
“I know about you, too, by the way.” Carolyn drew her gun and checked it.
“What do you mean?”
“We’re taught to observe interpersonal relationships, and...Michael has no clue how you feel, and you’d best not tell him.” Carolyn met his gaze.
Dan felt his throat close. “I --”
“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.” Carolyn holstered the gun again. “Trust me. One day your life might depend on it.”
Dan nodded. “Okay. And - thanks.” He started for the door.
Carolyn reached out and caught his wrist. “I do love Robert. I want you to know that.”
“Why?”
“Because no one else ever can.”
(498 Words - "Leave Out All The Rest" by Linkin Park; I had song ADD tonight and the song I originally wanted to use was not on YouTube)
First Solo
Joe fidgeted with the zipper on his jumpsuit. His body made jerking movements as if he was not sure if he wanted to run, or if he was just eager to get started. Joe was dressed in a one piece jumpsuit, his helmet on the ground beside him. His fingers twitched as he mentally checked off procedures in his head.
"Hey Joe, how's it going?" Brian asked, grinning from ear to ear. He noted Joe's fingers twitching, and smiled wider. "Nervous much?"
Joe shrugged, taking a deep breath and stilling his hands, "it's my first solo flight."
Brian suppressed the urge to razz his younger teammate. Mark and Brian had taken their qualifying flights the previous month. "Don't worry about it," Brian said, "just do as David taught you, and you'll be fine."
"I know that I know this, but that doesn't stop me from being nervous," Joe said.
"Are you ready Joe?" David asked, as he rounded the corner into the hanger.
"I guess as ready as I will be," Joe said, snapping off a salute.
"Okay. Jump into the Falcon over there and taxi out to the runway," David said.
"Yes Sir." Joe snapped off another salute.
Joe climbed into the cockpit of the fighter jet and checked his instruments, letting the taxi pull the jet to the runway.
David's voice came crackling over the headset into his ear. "Okay Joe, just like you trained. Take a deep breath. You can do this. You know the procedures, you know the maneuvers. Take it slow and do it right," David said.
"Yes Sir," Joe said, nodding, even though David couldn't see him.
Joe pulled back on the controls when he was given the all clear and the flag man had retreated.
The jet rocketed down the runway, gathering speed until it was airborne. Joe climbed swiftly into the sky, grinning at the feeling of freedom.
Joe settled himself and looked at his panel of information. He knew that David would be his spotter on the ground, and Steve would be the air observer. He was not sure who he would be flying against.
Joe rolled his jet to the left as his honed instincts noted the barest movement from the corner of his eye. He banked his jet in a tight turn and climbed steeply, trying to get a visual on his opponent. He saw the other jet below him as he did a roll to the right as his sensors picked up the mock gunfire.
Joe dipped his jet into a controlled dive so that he could get beneath the other fighter pilot. He punched in the code that would send signals to the other pilot of his strafing run. the other pilot looped around him to come up from his tail.
Joe stalled out to slow down enough so that the other pilot would over shoot him. As Joe came up behind the other jet he let loose a volley. A direct hit.
David's and Steve's cheers were drowned out by Joe's own enthusiasm. Joe did a victory roll and streaked back towards the runway.
As Joe exited his plane there was an enthusiastic group waiting for him.
"Way to go Joe!" Mark said, pounding him on the back.
"Good job. I knew you could do it," David said, punching him in the shoulder.
"I think a celebration is in order," Steve said.
"Absolutely," David said, leading the way away from the hanger.
"Hey Joe, how's it going?" Brian asked, grinning from ear to ear. He noted Joe's fingers twitching, and smiled wider. "Nervous much?"
Joe shrugged, taking a deep breath and stilling his hands, "it's my first solo flight."
Brian suppressed the urge to razz his younger teammate. Mark and Brian had taken their qualifying flights the previous month. "Don't worry about it," Brian said, "just do as David taught you, and you'll be fine."
"I know that I know this, but that doesn't stop me from being nervous," Joe said.
"Are you ready Joe?" David asked, as he rounded the corner into the hanger.
"I guess as ready as I will be," Joe said, snapping off a salute.
"Okay. Jump into the Falcon over there and taxi out to the runway," David said.
"Yes Sir." Joe snapped off another salute.
Joe climbed into the cockpit of the fighter jet and checked his instruments, letting the taxi pull the jet to the runway.
David's voice came crackling over the headset into his ear. "Okay Joe, just like you trained. Take a deep breath. You can do this. You know the procedures, you know the maneuvers. Take it slow and do it right," David said.
"Yes Sir," Joe said, nodding, even though David couldn't see him.
Joe pulled back on the controls when he was given the all clear and the flag man had retreated.
The jet rocketed down the runway, gathering speed until it was airborne. Joe climbed swiftly into the sky, grinning at the feeling of freedom.
Joe settled himself and looked at his panel of information. He knew that David would be his spotter on the ground, and Steve would be the air observer. He was not sure who he would be flying against.
Joe rolled his jet to the left as his honed instincts noted the barest movement from the corner of his eye. He banked his jet in a tight turn and climbed steeply, trying to get a visual on his opponent. He saw the other jet below him as he did a roll to the right as his sensors picked up the mock gunfire.
Joe dipped his jet into a controlled dive so that he could get beneath the other fighter pilot. He punched in the code that would send signals to the other pilot of his strafing run. the other pilot looped around him to come up from his tail.
Joe stalled out to slow down enough so that the other pilot would over shoot him. As Joe came up behind the other jet he let loose a volley. A direct hit.
David's and Steve's cheers were drowned out by Joe's own enthusiasm. Joe did a victory roll and streaked back towards the runway.
As Joe exited his plane there was an enthusiastic group waiting for him.
"Way to go Joe!" Mark said, pounding him on the back.
"Good job. I knew you could do it," David said, punching him in the shoulder.
"I think a celebration is in order," Steve said.
"Absolutely," David said, leading the way away from the hanger.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Caught
Walking was the only way to properly digest a heavy Italian meal. It hadn’t been horrendous, by any means - just heavy in the way that made you want to curl up on any semi-soft surface and go to sleep. Heavy, but content.
So, they were in the park again. Jamie thought it a bit strange that a majority of her time spent with Miles happened to be in Central Park, but it was a beautiful night, and it was by his suggestion that they walk there.
“So on your scale of Italian cuisine how did that rank?” Miles had a crooked, boyish smile on his face that Jamie was forcing herself not to dwell on. She might get caught staring.
“That was actually pretty close to authentic-style cooking. I’m impressed. They’ll definitely get a good review.” Of course, Jamie wasn’t thinking about the food anymore at this point. She concentrated on the sound of their footsteps, the way his arm would brush hers every few seconds… the silence of their suddenly stopped conversation. “What did you think of it, Miles?” She turned toward him and stopped walking.
He shrugged. “It was good, but to me, food is food. As long as I’m fed, I’m a happy guy.” He took a few more steps forwards before he realized Jamie wasn’t keeping pace.
“What else makes you happy? I feel like you know a lot about me, but I know hardly anything about you.” They’d spent a lot of the meal chatting about her job and the traveling she had done. He didn’t like to talk about himself.
He looked like he was searching for an answer, his eyes getting wide for a second as if he was remembering what made him happy… like he had forgotten at some point. “Writing…” he started, “writing and just observing people. It’s amazing to just see us, people like you and me, in our natural comfort zones. And it’s the small things that say a lot, you know?” He stopped, coming out of his reverie, and noticed Jamie smiling serenely at him. “But that’s just me.”
Jamie took a few steps toward him. “So, people make you happy then?” She tried to mask the fact that her heart was thumping so hard it felt like it might explode from her chest.
“Yeah, I guess I’m a sentimental guy that way.” He closed the distance between them.
“What about me, Miles?” Jamie was nearly whispering now. She was stumbling forward into something she hadn’t felt in a long time, something she dare not think or speak of for fear that it would disappear and soon as the thought conjured or the word fell from her lips.
“You know the answer… don’t you?”
He kissed her then, and the moment their lips touched the word ‘love’ popped in and out of existence in Jamie’s brain, and Miles was still there in her arms.
(487 words, Ben Folds - Sentimental Guy)
So, they were in the park again. Jamie thought it a bit strange that a majority of her time spent with Miles happened to be in Central Park, but it was a beautiful night, and it was by his suggestion that they walk there.
“So on your scale of Italian cuisine how did that rank?” Miles had a crooked, boyish smile on his face that Jamie was forcing herself not to dwell on. She might get caught staring.
“That was actually pretty close to authentic-style cooking. I’m impressed. They’ll definitely get a good review.” Of course, Jamie wasn’t thinking about the food anymore at this point. She concentrated on the sound of their footsteps, the way his arm would brush hers every few seconds… the silence of their suddenly stopped conversation. “What did you think of it, Miles?” She turned toward him and stopped walking.
He shrugged. “It was good, but to me, food is food. As long as I’m fed, I’m a happy guy.” He took a few more steps forwards before he realized Jamie wasn’t keeping pace.
“What else makes you happy? I feel like you know a lot about me, but I know hardly anything about you.” They’d spent a lot of the meal chatting about her job and the traveling she had done. He didn’t like to talk about himself.
He looked like he was searching for an answer, his eyes getting wide for a second as if he was remembering what made him happy… like he had forgotten at some point. “Writing…” he started, “writing and just observing people. It’s amazing to just see us, people like you and me, in our natural comfort zones. And it’s the small things that say a lot, you know?” He stopped, coming out of his reverie, and noticed Jamie smiling serenely at him. “But that’s just me.”
Jamie took a few steps toward him. “So, people make you happy then?” She tried to mask the fact that her heart was thumping so hard it felt like it might explode from her chest.
“Yeah, I guess I’m a sentimental guy that way.” He closed the distance between them.
“What about me, Miles?” Jamie was nearly whispering now. She was stumbling forward into something she hadn’t felt in a long time, something she dare not think or speak of for fear that it would disappear and soon as the thought conjured or the word fell from her lips.
“You know the answer… don’t you?”
He kissed her then, and the moment their lips touched the word ‘love’ popped in and out of existence in Jamie’s brain, and Miles was still there in her arms.
(487 words, Ben Folds - Sentimental Guy)
Alive Beside Carolyn
(play it low)
“Hey, wake up.”
Clay hated waking up like this. Carolyn’s voice was soft and gentle, and Clay knew if he opened his eyes he’d see her kneeling beside Bob’s side of the bed, a mug of hot chocolate in hand. Everyone thought Bob was such an early riser because he was disciplined or some kind of morning person, but Clay knew that Bob was out of bed first so he could have fifteen minutes alone with Carolyn in the kitchenette while she fixed breakfast for the rest.
Clay kept his eyes closed, and anyone looking at him just then would’ve thought he was still deep in sleep and not listening to Carolyn and Bob share a brief, sweet good morning kiss. Anyone who looked closer would see Clay had one hand curled into a white-knuckled fist from the effort of staying still.
Two sets of footsteps faded, and Clay finally opened his eyes, rolled onto his back. Their dad insisted that none of them date so they weren’t lying when reporters asked the damned girlfriend question, but hell if everyone didn’t know that Carolyn was the default girl, the one each of them were supposed to fall in love with so they’d stay out of trouble. And hell if it hadn’t worked.
Clay had seen Carolyn deep in conversation with Dan after a long day of press work, heads bent close while Dan dealt cards and Carolyn swindled him out of pocket change. No one knew what they talked about, but every now and again Carolyn would make a casual comment and then she and Dan would share a secret smile. And Scott - even though he professed grand detachment from Lady Caro, he’d hover over her whenever she wanted, showing her how to hold his favorite guitar, lacing his fingers with hers to show her how to lay a chord. At best, Carolyn smiled at Clay once in a while, teased him about flirting with girls on venue crews, and Clay smiled back, because it was all he could do. But she never talked to him like she talked to the others, and he was lucky if he could earn more than a passing glance in a single day. He felt utterly helpless whenever she looked at him, and he wondered how he’d missed it when they were children, when it was still all right to tackle her in a flying leap and pin her to the grass, tickle her till she shrieked with laughter.
Scott and Dan woke themselves up because they smelled food, but they wouldn’t bother to try to wake Clay. Everyone thought he was the late sleeper. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t asleep - he was steeling himself for another day of being alive beside Carolyn without living with her, without really being in her life.
(472 words - "Who Do You Love" by The Moffatts, and yes, Clint totally sings lead on this one - apropos, I thought)
“Hey, wake up.”
Clay hated waking up like this. Carolyn’s voice was soft and gentle, and Clay knew if he opened his eyes he’d see her kneeling beside Bob’s side of the bed, a mug of hot chocolate in hand. Everyone thought Bob was such an early riser because he was disciplined or some kind of morning person, but Clay knew that Bob was out of bed first so he could have fifteen minutes alone with Carolyn in the kitchenette while she fixed breakfast for the rest.
Clay kept his eyes closed, and anyone looking at him just then would’ve thought he was still deep in sleep and not listening to Carolyn and Bob share a brief, sweet good morning kiss. Anyone who looked closer would see Clay had one hand curled into a white-knuckled fist from the effort of staying still.
Two sets of footsteps faded, and Clay finally opened his eyes, rolled onto his back. Their dad insisted that none of them date so they weren’t lying when reporters asked the damned girlfriend question, but hell if everyone didn’t know that Carolyn was the default girl, the one each of them were supposed to fall in love with so they’d stay out of trouble. And hell if it hadn’t worked.
Clay had seen Carolyn deep in conversation with Dan after a long day of press work, heads bent close while Dan dealt cards and Carolyn swindled him out of pocket change. No one knew what they talked about, but every now and again Carolyn would make a casual comment and then she and Dan would share a secret smile. And Scott - even though he professed grand detachment from Lady Caro, he’d hover over her whenever she wanted, showing her how to hold his favorite guitar, lacing his fingers with hers to show her how to lay a chord. At best, Carolyn smiled at Clay once in a while, teased him about flirting with girls on venue crews, and Clay smiled back, because it was all he could do. But she never talked to him like she talked to the others, and he was lucky if he could earn more than a passing glance in a single day. He felt utterly helpless whenever she looked at him, and he wondered how he’d missed it when they were children, when it was still all right to tackle her in a flying leap and pin her to the grass, tickle her till she shrieked with laughter.
Scott and Dan woke themselves up because they smelled food, but they wouldn’t bother to try to wake Clay. Everyone thought he was the late sleeper. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t asleep - he was steeling himself for another day of being alive beside Carolyn without living with her, without really being in her life.
(472 words - "Who Do You Love" by The Moffatts, and yes, Clint totally sings lead on this one - apropos, I thought)
Help is on the way
(the song should be low in the background. I know it may be a bit dramatic, but....I needed something foreboding...Skip forward to about the 1 minute mark)
"Lieutenant Blackwood." Steve answered the phone.
"Steve!" A panicked voice came over the line."
"Rachel?" Steve was surprised to hear his sisters voice.
"Steve, you've got to help me." Rachel's voice quiet, as if afraid someone would overhear her.
"Rachel, what's wrong? Where are you?" Steve was starting to get more than a little worried. His normally unflappable sister sounded on the verge of a panic attack.
"I don't know where I am. Please you have got to find me." Rachel sounded like she was almost in tears.
"Okay, Rachel, calm down. Where were you last? Where is Mom and Dad?" Steve was kicking into operation mode, trying to get all the facts.
"I was out with some friends, We were going to a bar at the edge of town. I don't know where Mom and Dad are."
"Okay Rachel. I want you to stay calm. I'm coming to find you." Steve said, reassuring his sister.
"Please hurry Steve, I'm scared."
"Hey, have I ever let you down?" Steve asked in a lighter tone, trying to dispel some of her anxiety.
"No," Rachel whispered.
Steve was loathed to hang up on his sister when she needed him, but he had to find her as fast as possible.
Steve tore into the bunk room, grabbing clothes and equipment and stuffing them into a duffel bag. The rest of the team were standing in surprise at the state of the normally calm First Lieutenant.
Steve was running out the door when he ran into David.
"Commander, I have to leave. My sister is in trouble. I have to help her." Steve spoke very fast, trying to edge around his leader.
David nodded, "Let's go men, grab your gear and we will be out in two minutes."
Steve looked at David with gratitude. "Thank you Major."
"Your family is my family Steve," said David, as the team jogged out of the barrack and down the hall towards the aircraft hanger.
"Lieutenant Blackwood." Steve answered the phone.
"Steve!" A panicked voice came over the line."
"Rachel?" Steve was surprised to hear his sisters voice.
"Steve, you've got to help me." Rachel's voice quiet, as if afraid someone would overhear her.
"Rachel, what's wrong? Where are you?" Steve was starting to get more than a little worried. His normally unflappable sister sounded on the verge of a panic attack.
"I don't know where I am. Please you have got to find me." Rachel sounded like she was almost in tears.
"Okay, Rachel, calm down. Where were you last? Where is Mom and Dad?" Steve was kicking into operation mode, trying to get all the facts.
"I was out with some friends, We were going to a bar at the edge of town. I don't know where Mom and Dad are."
"Okay Rachel. I want you to stay calm. I'm coming to find you." Steve said, reassuring his sister.
"Please hurry Steve, I'm scared."
"Hey, have I ever let you down?" Steve asked in a lighter tone, trying to dispel some of her anxiety.
"No," Rachel whispered.
Steve was loathed to hang up on his sister when she needed him, but he had to find her as fast as possible.
Steve tore into the bunk room, grabbing clothes and equipment and stuffing them into a duffel bag. The rest of the team were standing in surprise at the state of the normally calm First Lieutenant.
Steve was running out the door when he ran into David.
"Commander, I have to leave. My sister is in trouble. I have to help her." Steve spoke very fast, trying to edge around his leader.
David nodded, "Let's go men, grab your gear and we will be out in two minutes."
Steve looked at David with gratitude. "Thank you Major."
"Your family is my family Steve," said David, as the team jogged out of the barrack and down the hall towards the aircraft hanger.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
An Interlude
She wasn’t sitting alone on the bench today. Instead of loitering in the break room for the entirety of her lunch hour, Jamie had wandered out of the building, down the street, into a cab, and into Central Park. She honestly hadn’t planned on seeing Miles, but she couldn’t deny the fact that she had been grinning so hard it hurt since the moment she saw him.
He was petting his dog affectionately and not saying much. Jamie wasn’t sure if it was out of shyness or if he felt uneasy around her. They were still in the stranger lingering on acquaintance stage. What did she expect?
“So, what’s your dog’s name? She really is a cutie.” Jamie looked over at Miles tentatively.
Miles chuckled. “He, actually. His name is Bruiser. Tough name, but he really is a softy. You can pet him, he doesn’t bite. He’s great around strangers.”
Strangers.
Jamie reached over and pet Bruiser on the head. He panted happily and Jamie smiled.
“So,” Miles began, “you said you were on your lunch break, right? Where do you work?”
“I write a column for the New York Times… it’s in the Arts section. I write about different restaurants in New York, the culinary world. I like food.” Obviously, Jamie, or you wouldn’t write a column about food, she thought to herself.
Miles laughed again. His eyes seemed to dance.
“Well, Jamie, writer for the Times who likes food and my dog… I need to get going. I work from home… I’m a writer too, actually, and I feel the need to work all of the sudden.”
“You’re a writer too?” She didn’t want to seem too eager, but the fact that they had something as big as their careers in common was an excellent place to start.
“Yeah…” Miles seemed to clam up. “It’s kind of complicated. But hey, uh… I’m probably going to walk Bruiser around this time tomorrow too if you feel the need to see Bruiser’s smiling face…” He scratched his head nervously.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
He walked away, Bruiser almost pulling him along trying to get him to keep up. Jamie sighed, looked up at the clear blue high noon sky, and out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Miles glancing back.
(386 words, Ben Folds - Before Cologne)
He was petting his dog affectionately and not saying much. Jamie wasn’t sure if it was out of shyness or if he felt uneasy around her. They were still in the stranger lingering on acquaintance stage. What did she expect?
“So, what’s your dog’s name? She really is a cutie.” Jamie looked over at Miles tentatively.
Miles chuckled. “He, actually. His name is Bruiser. Tough name, but he really is a softy. You can pet him, he doesn’t bite. He’s great around strangers.”
Strangers.
Jamie reached over and pet Bruiser on the head. He panted happily and Jamie smiled.
“So,” Miles began, “you said you were on your lunch break, right? Where do you work?”
“I write a column for the New York Times… it’s in the Arts section. I write about different restaurants in New York, the culinary world. I like food.” Obviously, Jamie, or you wouldn’t write a column about food, she thought to herself.
Miles laughed again. His eyes seemed to dance.
“Well, Jamie, writer for the Times who likes food and my dog… I need to get going. I work from home… I’m a writer too, actually, and I feel the need to work all of the sudden.”
“You’re a writer too?” She didn’t want to seem too eager, but the fact that they had something as big as their careers in common was an excellent place to start.
“Yeah…” Miles seemed to clam up. “It’s kind of complicated. But hey, uh… I’m probably going to walk Bruiser around this time tomorrow too if you feel the need to see Bruiser’s smiling face…” He scratched his head nervously.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
He walked away, Bruiser almost pulling him along trying to get him to keep up. Jamie sighed, looked up at the clear blue high noon sky, and out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Miles glancing back.
(386 words, Ben Folds - Before Cologne)
In Five Years
If Kevin caught them, they’d be in massive trouble, but the summer night was warm and the glow from the candles made everything gold, and it was easy not to care.
“Where do you think you’ll be in five years?” Bob asked. He had his trig textbook open on his lap and a notebook full of half-finished problems next to his knee, but he was lying back on the bed, hands tucked under his head.
Carolyn had a secured transactions textbook propping up her feet, and she was stretched out on the bed opposite Bob so her head was beside his. “As soon as I’m old enough I’m taking the bar, remember? So I’m probably going to be a lawyer.”
Bob turned his head and nuzzled her hair, felt her smile against his shoulder. “Every now and again I forget how smart you are.”
“Not smart,” Carolyn said, like she always did. “Just lucky. Besides, you’re the musical prodigy, not me.”
“Hardly a prodigy.” Bob closed his eyes and shifted closer to her, felt her tuck herself against him. Her skin was soft, always had been, even back when she’d been a staff-wielding tomboy who put all four brothers to shame during karate training. Some days he wondered what the hell he’d done to deserve her. His friends back in Tennessee were fond of reminding him that she was worthy of more than his lame home-schooled self, but then he was sixteen and on top of the world. “I just play in a band.”
“To stadiums full of thousands of screaming girls every night.” Carolyn laughed.
“You know there’s only one girl who matters,” Bob said, and Carolyn shoved his shoulder.
“Hello Hollywood cliché!”
He silenced further argument with a slow kiss.
Carolyn was smiling as she pulled back. “Well put, Mr. Summers.”
“I learned from the best,” he said, and couldn’t help but smile.
Carolyn reached out and brushed a lock of hair from his eyes. “What about you? Where will you be in five years?”
“Probably still performing and recording with my brothers.” Bob shrugged. For some reason, it seemed like a bleak future, even though when he was younger it had been the greatest dream in the world, to always make music. If he was always on the road, how would he see Carolyn, who’d be a partner in some fancy law firm in some big city far away?
“Where do you want to be in five years?” Carolyn asked.
Bob closed his eyes and sighed. She knew him too well. “In five years, I want to be just like this, only no textbooks and no homework, no parents just down the hall ready to boot one of us out the window for breaking curfew.”
As if on cue, there was a thump at the door, and Scott said,
“Shelley wants to check your math!”
Bob swung around and tugged Carolyn into his arms for a kiss. Around them, the candles guttered out.
(500 words - "So New" by Cillian Murphy)
“Where do you think you’ll be in five years?” Bob asked. He had his trig textbook open on his lap and a notebook full of half-finished problems next to his knee, but he was lying back on the bed, hands tucked under his head.
Carolyn had a secured transactions textbook propping up her feet, and she was stretched out on the bed opposite Bob so her head was beside his. “As soon as I’m old enough I’m taking the bar, remember? So I’m probably going to be a lawyer.”
Bob turned his head and nuzzled her hair, felt her smile against his shoulder. “Every now and again I forget how smart you are.”
“Not smart,” Carolyn said, like she always did. “Just lucky. Besides, you’re the musical prodigy, not me.”
“Hardly a prodigy.” Bob closed his eyes and shifted closer to her, felt her tuck herself against him. Her skin was soft, always had been, even back when she’d been a staff-wielding tomboy who put all four brothers to shame during karate training. Some days he wondered what the hell he’d done to deserve her. His friends back in Tennessee were fond of reminding him that she was worthy of more than his lame home-schooled self, but then he was sixteen and on top of the world. “I just play in a band.”
“To stadiums full of thousands of screaming girls every night.” Carolyn laughed.
“You know there’s only one girl who matters,” Bob said, and Carolyn shoved his shoulder.
“Hello Hollywood cliché!”
He silenced further argument with a slow kiss.
Carolyn was smiling as she pulled back. “Well put, Mr. Summers.”
“I learned from the best,” he said, and couldn’t help but smile.
Carolyn reached out and brushed a lock of hair from his eyes. “What about you? Where will you be in five years?”
“Probably still performing and recording with my brothers.” Bob shrugged. For some reason, it seemed like a bleak future, even though when he was younger it had been the greatest dream in the world, to always make music. If he was always on the road, how would he see Carolyn, who’d be a partner in some fancy law firm in some big city far away?
“Where do you want to be in five years?” Carolyn asked.
Bob closed his eyes and sighed. She knew him too well. “In five years, I want to be just like this, only no textbooks and no homework, no parents just down the hall ready to boot one of us out the window for breaking curfew.”
As if on cue, there was a thump at the door, and Scott said,
“Shelley wants to check your math!”
Bob swung around and tugged Carolyn into his arms for a kiss. Around them, the candles guttered out.
(500 words - "So New" by Cillian Murphy)
A Vow
David woke up in his bunk, his blankets tucked tightly around him. He blinked back the pain from his hangover. He only vaguely remembered Steve and the others finding him the the warehouse. There was a light coming from off to his right and behind him. Slowly he turned his head to look around; the room spinning around him. His eyes at last landed on Steve.
Steve looked down at him when he saw the movement, "Hey boss," He said quietly.
David blinked, not sure yet if he could speak.
"Rough couple of days sir?" Steve picked up a glass of water and held it to his commanders lips. David sipped at it for a second.
Memories played in David's mind like a bad film that he could not get rid of. Men dying, men that he had killed. "I killed them Steve," David said at last. "I knew every single one of them, and I don't know why I was ordered to terminate them." David could see their faces, see their eyes as the light went out of them. "They had families, people who loved them. They were just boys."
Steve sat in silence, waiting for his commander to finish speaking.
David drew in a shaky breath. "Do you ever stop to ask yourself, why we supposed to kill them? I never used to ask why. But in those faces, I could see the faces of everyone I love. You. Joe. The twins. All the men I have served with."
"You did what you were ordered to do sir," Steve said at last when it seemed David had no more to say.
"I made a vow to myself Steve," David said quietly, almost inaudibly. Steve had to lean close to hear what he had to say. "I vowed I would protect my men, protect my family, the only family I have now.
David turned into the wall and Steve stood to leave.
"I killed them all to save my own," David whispered into the dark.
Steve looked down at him when he saw the movement, "Hey boss," He said quietly.
David blinked, not sure yet if he could speak.
"Rough couple of days sir?" Steve picked up a glass of water and held it to his commanders lips. David sipped at it for a second.
Memories played in David's mind like a bad film that he could not get rid of. Men dying, men that he had killed. "I killed them Steve," David said at last. "I knew every single one of them, and I don't know why I was ordered to terminate them." David could see their faces, see their eyes as the light went out of them. "They had families, people who loved them. They were just boys."
Steve sat in silence, waiting for his commander to finish speaking.
David drew in a shaky breath. "Do you ever stop to ask yourself, why we supposed to kill them? I never used to ask why. But in those faces, I could see the faces of everyone I love. You. Joe. The twins. All the men I have served with."
"You did what you were ordered to do sir," Steve said at last when it seemed David had no more to say.
"I made a vow to myself Steve," David said quietly, almost inaudibly. Steve had to lean close to hear what he had to say. "I vowed I would protect my men, protect my family, the only family I have now.
David turned into the wall and Steve stood to leave.
"I killed them all to save my own," David whispered into the dark.
Monday, June 8, 2009
The Turn
She sat alone on a park bench, a warm box of Chinese takeout in one hand, a pair of wooden chopsticks in the other. She ate absently. Her mind was on other things - like, the parking ticket she’d gotten earlier that day, how her boss had harped on her for nearly an hour about an upcoming deadline, and…
And there he was.
She had seen him around Central Park a few times, walking his dog. He was alone now, which seemed slightly odd to her. He was beautiful. Dark hair, dark eyes, a simple yet stunning smile. They had nodded hellos to one another before, but she hadn’t really talked to him.
Her chopsticks scraped the bottom of the cardboard container. She hadn’t even noticed that all her food was gone. She didn’t feel full.
And he was about to pass her by, again.
A deep breath. A beat.
“Hello.”
She had said it loud enough that he glanced backward to see if he was the one being greeted, and when his eyes met hers, her heart leapt into her throat.
“Hi there.”
She stood up. She wasn’t sure what was sending the impulses to move her limbs, because it surely wasn’t her brain.
“Would you mind if I walked with you?”
He smiled. “No, I wouldn’t mind some company.” A pause. “I’m Miles.” He extended his hand.
She returned the gesture. “I’m Jamie.”
It was a perfect night in the city.
(243 words, Ben Folds - Lullabye)
And there he was.
She had seen him around Central Park a few times, walking his dog. He was alone now, which seemed slightly odd to her. He was beautiful. Dark hair, dark eyes, a simple yet stunning smile. They had nodded hellos to one another before, but she hadn’t really talked to him.
Her chopsticks scraped the bottom of the cardboard container. She hadn’t even noticed that all her food was gone. She didn’t feel full.
And he was about to pass her by, again.
A deep breath. A beat.
“Hello.”
She had said it loud enough that he glanced backward to see if he was the one being greeted, and when his eyes met hers, her heart leapt into her throat.
“Hi there.”
She stood up. She wasn’t sure what was sending the impulses to move her limbs, because it surely wasn’t her brain.
“Would you mind if I walked with you?”
He smiled. “No, I wouldn’t mind some company.” A pause. “I’m Miles.” He extended his hand.
She returned the gesture. “I’m Jamie.”
It was a perfect night in the city.
(243 words, Ben Folds - Lullabye)
A Promise Unkept
David stood on top of a hill outside of Rome; the setting sun painting everything gold and red. In the distance he could hear the bells of the many chapels in the valley below calling the faithful to come and worship at evening mass. A warm salty wind blew in off of the Mediterranean sea. David looked to his left and could see faintly the Coliseum on the horizon. A mission had brought him here, and a memory was keeping him here.
David closed his eyes and drew in the breeze, making it a part of himself for just a moment, his thoughts wandering far into the past.
Arianna's voice seemed to come to him on the wind. David's breath caught in his chest, her voice as clear as if she were standing right next to him. "I've always wanted to go to Italy. Let's go to Italy David. Let's just pick up and go to Rome."
He had promised that they would, that they would make it to Italy. He had promised, and she had died.
Tears flowed down his cheeks as the sun finished setting. "I'm so sorry Ari," David whispered into the growing dusk.
David closed his eyes and drew in the breeze, making it a part of himself for just a moment, his thoughts wandering far into the past.
Arianna's voice seemed to come to him on the wind. David's breath caught in his chest, her voice as clear as if she were standing right next to him. "I've always wanted to go to Italy. Let's go to Italy David. Let's just pick up and go to Rome."
He had promised that they would, that they would make it to Italy. He had promised, and she had died.
Tears flowed down his cheeks as the sun finished setting. "I'm so sorry Ari," David whispered into the growing dusk.
Contact Established
(click on the link to start the song at the appropriate time - best to open the song in another tab if you can)
There were many ways to make an entrance, and Carolyn was determined to make the best one. She lingered in the doorway of the diner, watching Scott and Clay squabble over their pool cues while Dan quietly cleared the table behind them. Scott looked different with short hair, older, but then they were all determined to look older than they were. They’d grown up too fast.
None of them were expecting that Carolyn had grown anything but taller. She ran a hand through her hair, smoothed down her blouse, and swiveled her hips to test the flare of her skirt.
Bob hovered over the jukebox, jangling quarters in one hand. He’d finally cut his hair so it didn’t look like a girl’s, and it wasn’t nearly as apt to get into his face while he was drumming.
Carolyn took a deep breath. Time to make her mark. She pushed open the door and strode across the diner. She kept her shoulders back and her chin up. Several heads turned as she passed, but she ignored them.
Clay and Scott’s argument came to an abrupt halt. Dan missed a shot, and Carolyn resisted the urge to smirk to herself. She’d waited a long time for this.
“Hey Robbie.” She kept her voice low, tapped him on the shoulder. “I thought your dad told me you’d meet me outside.”
Bob jumped and spun, one fist coming up, and that was good - he’d kept his alertness in the three years Carolyn had been gone. Surprise lit his eyes, and his lips parted, and then he said,
“Hello?”
Carolyn reached up - she had to reach up now - and ruffled his hair like she had when they were twelve. “Robbie, it’s me. Caro. Come on - you remember me?” She pretended to rabbit-punch him, and he blocked automatically, but his gaze was glued to her legs.
She shimmied her hips a little bit and saw him swallow hard. “I know, it looks so weird, but my mom’s been on me forever about not being a tomboy, so I figured if I wore a skirt in public just once she’d get over herself. How’ve you been? I almost didn’t recognize you - you’re so tall! Taller than Clay. I thought you were twins.”
Behind Bob, the jukebox player came to life. Boy With The Beat. Of course.
“We’ve -” his voice squeaked, and he turned bright red, coughed, “we’ve been good. Just got back from Hawaii where we were recording -”
Carolyn tugged on his wrist. “I love this song. You picked it - you have to dance with me.”
Bob allowed himself to be led out to the middle of the diner floor. Carolyn called out to his brothers and waved. They gaped. In the corner, John spoke into his comm.
Contact with targets established.
(466 words - "I Love Rock'n'Roll" by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts)
There were many ways to make an entrance, and Carolyn was determined to make the best one. She lingered in the doorway of the diner, watching Scott and Clay squabble over their pool cues while Dan quietly cleared the table behind them. Scott looked different with short hair, older, but then they were all determined to look older than they were. They’d grown up too fast.
None of them were expecting that Carolyn had grown anything but taller. She ran a hand through her hair, smoothed down her blouse, and swiveled her hips to test the flare of her skirt.
Bob hovered over the jukebox, jangling quarters in one hand. He’d finally cut his hair so it didn’t look like a girl’s, and it wasn’t nearly as apt to get into his face while he was drumming.
Carolyn took a deep breath. Time to make her mark. She pushed open the door and strode across the diner. She kept her shoulders back and her chin up. Several heads turned as she passed, but she ignored them.
Clay and Scott’s argument came to an abrupt halt. Dan missed a shot, and Carolyn resisted the urge to smirk to herself. She’d waited a long time for this.
“Hey Robbie.” She kept her voice low, tapped him on the shoulder. “I thought your dad told me you’d meet me outside.”
Bob jumped and spun, one fist coming up, and that was good - he’d kept his alertness in the three years Carolyn had been gone. Surprise lit his eyes, and his lips parted, and then he said,
“Hello?”
Carolyn reached up - she had to reach up now - and ruffled his hair like she had when they were twelve. “Robbie, it’s me. Caro. Come on - you remember me?” She pretended to rabbit-punch him, and he blocked automatically, but his gaze was glued to her legs.
She shimmied her hips a little bit and saw him swallow hard. “I know, it looks so weird, but my mom’s been on me forever about not being a tomboy, so I figured if I wore a skirt in public just once she’d get over herself. How’ve you been? I almost didn’t recognize you - you’re so tall! Taller than Clay. I thought you were twins.”
Behind Bob, the jukebox player came to life. Boy With The Beat. Of course.
“We’ve -” his voice squeaked, and he turned bright red, coughed, “we’ve been good. Just got back from Hawaii where we were recording -”
Carolyn tugged on his wrist. “I love this song. You picked it - you have to dance with me.”
Bob allowed himself to be led out to the middle of the diner floor. Carolyn called out to his brothers and waved. They gaped. In the corner, John spoke into his comm.
Contact with targets established.
(466 words - "I Love Rock'n'Roll" by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts)
Overview #29 - Poetic Moments
Okay, so I couldn't get into my poetry groove this week. I don't really know what happened, but I felt like I was forcing it all week. Nothing wanted to come, or if anything did, it sounded juvenile and ridiculous. Normally poetry is one of my stronger points, and it was frustrating that nothing would turn out. I guess I have been writing prose for to long. Most of my poems this week turned out to be more prose-ish with line breaks. I also know that some kind of leave you hanging, but I thought better to end it than to try to carry on and make it horrible. This next week should be better.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Project #30: Soundtrack
Write a scene, 100-500 words long, set to a particular song. Not a songfic, and don't include the lyrics. Just pick a song that has inspired you, the sort of song you envision as a backdrop to a scene you're writing as if that scene is from a movie instead of from a book or story, and write. Then post a link to the song (maybe a YouTube vid with the song as a background or something) so that your readers can listen to the song while they read what you wrote and run with it that way. It doesn't even have to be a modern song - it could be a classical or instrumental piece. Just pick a song that you'd love to have on the soundtrack of your "movie" and enjoy the ride.
Post the name of the song and the artist who sang it, if you please.
ETA: try not to use a song you used in a previous project.
Post the name of the song and the artist who sang it, if you please.
ETA: try not to use a song you used in a previous project.
Overview #29 - Poetic Moments
Oh, but this was a great challenge for me. First of all, having JadedChaos on board was fantastic and spurred me to leave better feedback than "oh, that was cute today!" So I'm glad to have her on board with this lovely thing we call the writing game of Master and Madness. This felt like a pretty successful week for me, too. I felt like I improved each day with each poem. I didn't improve much, but I improved enough that I felt as though my final poem for the week was much better than my initial poem.
Finding poetic moments in each day was enlightening as well - it taught me not to dismiss random moments as banal, but to treasure them and savor them and file them away for later. It also taught me to tap into the inspiration of a single moment and not shrug it off because I was in the middle of work. So far so good.
Finding poetic moments in each day was enlightening as well - it taught me not to dismiss random moments as banal, but to treasure them and savor them and file them away for later. It also taught me to tap into the inspiration of a single moment and not shrug it off because I was in the middle of work. So far so good.
Overview #29 - Poetic Moments
Well, I had an excellent first week here. It feels good to be writing something, anything... especially when I am sitting down to do it every single day.
I think I had some good and bad days this week. My poetry tends to be very personal, and while some people may know what I'm talking about (Nagi) and understand my poems, others (Madness) may have absolutely no idea what the heck I'm trying to say. It's great to have both kinds of feedback, because it lets me know that I still need to work on making my poetry a little less cryptic, but still be able to talk about things that happen to me that have a personal enough effect to cause poetry.
Thanks you guys. Can't wait to see what the new challenge is.
I think I had some good and bad days this week. My poetry tends to be very personal, and while some people may know what I'm talking about (Nagi) and understand my poems, others (Madness) may have absolutely no idea what the heck I'm trying to say. It's great to have both kinds of feedback, because it lets me know that I still need to work on making my poetry a little less cryptic, but still be able to talk about things that happen to me that have a personal enough effect to cause poetry.
Thanks you guys. Can't wait to see what the new challenge is.
The Storm Passes
The rain gives birth
to tiny blossoms
of thought,
growing in my brain
until
the petals float away.
I write letters to you
in my head,
beginning
ending
the same way
every time.
The rush of slick
freeway, the trickle
of man-made drain,
and I know the only way
to end
this feeling is to cut
myself off.
Forget, move on,
repress.
We could pretend,
but never commit
to the loss.
(72 words, sorry this is late)
to tiny blossoms
of thought,
growing in my brain
until
the petals float away.
I write letters to you
in my head,
beginning
ending
the same way
every time.
The rush of slick
freeway, the trickle
of man-made drain,
and I know the only way
to end
this feeling is to cut
myself off.
Forget, move on,
repress.
We could pretend,
but never commit
to the loss.
(72 words, sorry this is late)
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Scars
Some wounds are just skin deep.
They scab and flake away,
a scar left behind.
An interesting story.
Some things pull upon your heartstrings;
so that you feel your heart should break.
Thick calloused scars,
buried deep in your soul
They scab and flake away,
a scar left behind.
An interesting story.
Some things pull upon your heartstrings;
so that you feel your heart should break.
Thick calloused scars,
buried deep in your soul
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