It was late when the Bob finally crept into the hotel room. Dan and Clay had fallen asleep long ago, Clay ready to give his twin an earful about missing curfew, Dan fretting about Bob not finishing his homework.
Scott lay awake in the darkness and watched Bob dress for bed. He brushed his teeth as quietly as possible, squirmed into his pajamas. The moonlight that filtered through the gaps in the curtains revealed the fresh bruises marring his torso, the silver stains of tear-tracks on his face.
Scott’s hands curled into fists. He watched Bob crawl into bed beside Clay and curl up miserably on his half of the bed. Scott listened to Bob quietly sniffle himself to sleep. Eventually, his breathing evened out, and then Scott was the only one awake.
He stared at Bob’s thin shoulders, hunched beneath the sheets, and he wanted to scream.
Instead, he whispered, barely above a breath, “I’m sorry, Bobby.” And he closed his eyes.
(164 words)
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Friday, October 9, 2009
Maria
(play it low)
Bob swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”
Maria flung the picture at him. “Who the hell is she, Robert?”
“She’s an old family friend. Her dad was on the crew, so she rode with us when we were kids.” It took every ounce of self-control not to reach out and scoop up the faded photograph, cradle it gently in his hands.
“She doesn’t look like a kid in that picture.” Maria crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.
Bob bit his lip. “She and her dad ditched out on the crew when - when we were teenagers.”
Maria took a deep breath, dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, and Bob realized she was trying not to cry. Guilt wrenched in his chest.
“I’ve tried, Bobby, and I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t compete with a ghost.” She hiccuped, and Bob automatically moved forward to put his arms around her, but she shook her head and stepped back.
“Maria, I --” The words caught in his throat.
“Even now, you can’t say it.” Maria shook her head again, laughed, though the sound came out more like a sob. “Tell me one thing. Do you love her?”
“I’m sorry,” Bob said again.
Maria studied him for a long time. Then she nodded. “Right. I’ll come back for my things.” And she headed for the door.
Bob watched her walk away, sank against the door frame. Then he picked up the picture and smoothed it out with trembling fingers. After a moment, he slid the picture back into his wallet and closed the door. Then he sat down on his bed and cried.
(277 words)
Bob swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”
Maria flung the picture at him. “Who the hell is she, Robert?”
“She’s an old family friend. Her dad was on the crew, so she rode with us when we were kids.” It took every ounce of self-control not to reach out and scoop up the faded photograph, cradle it gently in his hands.
“She doesn’t look like a kid in that picture.” Maria crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.
Bob bit his lip. “She and her dad ditched out on the crew when - when we were teenagers.”
Maria took a deep breath, dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, and Bob realized she was trying not to cry. Guilt wrenched in his chest.
“I’ve tried, Bobby, and I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t compete with a ghost.” She hiccuped, and Bob automatically moved forward to put his arms around her, but she shook her head and stepped back.
“Maria, I --” The words caught in his throat.
“Even now, you can’t say it.” Maria shook her head again, laughed, though the sound came out more like a sob. “Tell me one thing. Do you love her?”
“I’m sorry,” Bob said again.
Maria studied him for a long time. Then she nodded. “Right. I’ll come back for my things.” And she headed for the door.
Bob watched her walk away, sank against the door frame. Then he picked up the picture and smoothed it out with trembling fingers. After a moment, he slid the picture back into his wallet and closed the door. Then he sat down on his bed and cried.
(277 words)
Dead Before the Report
Grant Brenna was sitting behind his large desk when the lights flickered and went out. He was a naturally paranoid man and so he drew his gun without thinking. Brenna leaned slightly forward and pressed the button on the intercom to double check that the power was out.
He stood slowly and scanned the room, his eyes gradually adjusting to the dimness, the only light coming in from off the street ten floors below.
Fire cut a searing gouge in his leg before he even heard the sound of the shot or saw the flash of the muzzle. He yelled in pain as he dropped to the floor. The shot had come from the right side of the door, but he hadn't heard the door open or close.
"Who's there?" Brenna shouted into the darkness. The only answer was silence. Brenna grunted in pain as he tried to stand up, but only succeeded in falling over again. As he looked around the room he saw a shadow flit across the window. He Quickly aimed and pulled the trigger, the stillness of the room shattering with the shot.
A hollow laugh filled the room and made Brenna's blood run cold.
"Did you really think that you would not pay for what you have done?" a voice whispered out of the darkness somewhere to his right.
"And just what did I do?" Brenna asked, his voice quavering as he thought over all he had done.
Another chuckle echoed through the room, "I think the bigger question would be, what haven't you done."
"Well whatever you think that I did, I didn't do it. I'm a business man. Nothing more," Brenna said, trying to inject some force into his voice.
"Oh you did it alright," the voice said, this time it was closer, "I know everything about you. I have waited a long time for this."
"At least be a man and show yourself," Brenna said.
"A man huh?" the voice sounded amused, "well what if I'm not a man. What if I'm a monster? I am what I am thanks to you Brenna. And now you will die at the hands of your creation."
"Look I'm sure there is some way to work this out. Some way that I can make it up to you, what ever it was that I did."
"I don't think so Brenna. You are not going to get out of it just by apologizing. You killed her, and now, it is your turn." A gun cocked just next to Brenna's ear.
Brenna jumped a foot into the air and tried to scramble backwards, "look, I don't know who it was that was so special to you, but I'm sorry. I'll do anything."
"Sorry? Well I'm sorry, but your apology not only comes to late, it means nothing to me."
Brenna was dead before he could have even heard the report of the shot that took his life.
David stepped over the lifeless body and walked out of the room, his steps lighter for the first time in a long time.
He stood slowly and scanned the room, his eyes gradually adjusting to the dimness, the only light coming in from off the street ten floors below.
Fire cut a searing gouge in his leg before he even heard the sound of the shot or saw the flash of the muzzle. He yelled in pain as he dropped to the floor. The shot had come from the right side of the door, but he hadn't heard the door open or close.
"Who's there?" Brenna shouted into the darkness. The only answer was silence. Brenna grunted in pain as he tried to stand up, but only succeeded in falling over again. As he looked around the room he saw a shadow flit across the window. He Quickly aimed and pulled the trigger, the stillness of the room shattering with the shot.
A hollow laugh filled the room and made Brenna's blood run cold.
"Did you really think that you would not pay for what you have done?" a voice whispered out of the darkness somewhere to his right.
"And just what did I do?" Brenna asked, his voice quavering as he thought over all he had done.
Another chuckle echoed through the room, "I think the bigger question would be, what haven't you done."
"Well whatever you think that I did, I didn't do it. I'm a business man. Nothing more," Brenna said, trying to inject some force into his voice.
"Oh you did it alright," the voice said, this time it was closer, "I know everything about you. I have waited a long time for this."
"At least be a man and show yourself," Brenna said.
"A man huh?" the voice sounded amused, "well what if I'm not a man. What if I'm a monster? I am what I am thanks to you Brenna. And now you will die at the hands of your creation."
"Look I'm sure there is some way to work this out. Some way that I can make it up to you, what ever it was that I did."
"I don't think so Brenna. You are not going to get out of it just by apologizing. You killed her, and now, it is your turn." A gun cocked just next to Brenna's ear.
Brenna jumped a foot into the air and tried to scramble backwards, "look, I don't know who it was that was so special to you, but I'm sorry. I'll do anything."
"Sorry? Well I'm sorry, but your apology not only comes to late, it means nothing to me."
Brenna was dead before he could have even heard the report of the shot that took his life.
David stepped over the lifeless body and walked out of the room, his steps lighter for the first time in a long time.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Hope Is A Liar
Dear Sam,
I feel like all I’ve done in the past forty-eight hours is apologize.
Well, here’s another one to add to the list.
I know that the decision I’m making is probably the wrong one. It’s an immature thing to do and I’m only putting off even harder decisions.
I’m pretty sure you thought you knew what would happen. I guess I’m not as predictable as you thought I was. You thought that I was going to choose Layla, and things between us would never be the same. I don’t know if things between us can be the same, but only because I’m not certain just what it is I feel for you. I know that I care about you and that you are basically my best friend. I know that, without a doubt.
But that night, I kissed you because I felt something else. Something that I haven’t felt in a long time – need. You let everything go and told the truth, and that must have taken a lot of guts. Guts is something I am definitely lacking right now.
So, what am I trying to say? I’m leaving. I’m not sure where I’m going or when I’ll be back, but I promise I won’t be gone long. I hope it’s not too much to ask you to wait just a little longer. I’m asking Layla to do the same – hell, I’ve waited for her, I expect the same courtesy.
I’m sorry I’m leaving you like this. But please, don’t lose hope. I’m not.
See you soon,
Vince
The piece of paper shook in my hands as I read it. I hadn’t spoken to him since the night I apologized and his only response then was to kiss me. And now he’s left a mysterious letter on my doorstep and disappeared. I’m surprised Layla isn’t beating down my door wanting answers. If she was, I wouldn’t have any answers to give her. I’m just as lost in the dark as she is.
He wants me to wait. He wants me to hold on to some sort of hope. How can I? That’s all I’ve been doing for the past few years. I know what’s going to happen. I know he’s going to come back, apologize to me again, and then run back into Layla’s arms.
Unfortunately, hope is a hard thing to kill. And I’ll be here waiting for the final blow.
(404 words)
Closure
David leaned down and brushed the fallen leaves and the dust from the cold stone, revealing a name and a date on the polished surface. He held in his hand a simple bouquet of flowers; a combination of Jasmine and Honeysuckle. David knelt down in the grass beside the grave marker and looked around; the trees were turning gold and red, and a chill wind was blowing from the east.
"Hey Ari," he said in a low voice. Even in the hush of the graveyard his voice didn't carry far past his own ears. David paused, looking for the right words to explain how he was feeling. "I... I came to say I'm sorry, I guess. I don't think that you would have been proud of the way I have lived my life. You were the best part of me, and when you were no longer there, I lost my purpose. I guess I never truly realized how much I depended on you while you were here. Without you, I am only a shadow of what I could have been," David paused again, "I would give up everything to have you here with me. I know that that is impossible, and so I have to learn to live in this world without you," he finished, and a whisper of a breeze rustled his hair, as if fingers were combing through it.
"I guess I also came for closure. I've never been able to move on. I also came to tell you that I love you and that I always will, but I have to let my heart heal, to fill in that hole where you should be," he said as he stood, leaving the flowers propped against the stone.
David backed away a step, "I'm sorry Ariana. But I have to learn to let you go. I can't live as half a person anymore." David bit his lip and forced himself to back up another step instead of lying down on his loves grave and never moving again. Another step. And another. Clenching his teeth and closing his eyes, David turned from the silent graveyard and walked with slow steps back up the path to the gate, tears seeping from his eyes, and his breaths coming in choked sobs.
Turning at the gate, he could just make out her grave marker. "I'm sorry Ariana," he whispered one last time before he got into his car and drove away.
"Hey Ari," he said in a low voice. Even in the hush of the graveyard his voice didn't carry far past his own ears. David paused, looking for the right words to explain how he was feeling. "I... I came to say I'm sorry, I guess. I don't think that you would have been proud of the way I have lived my life. You were the best part of me, and when you were no longer there, I lost my purpose. I guess I never truly realized how much I depended on you while you were here. Without you, I am only a shadow of what I could have been," David paused again, "I would give up everything to have you here with me. I know that that is impossible, and so I have to learn to live in this world without you," he finished, and a whisper of a breeze rustled his hair, as if fingers were combing through it.
"I guess I also came for closure. I've never been able to move on. I also came to tell you that I love you and that I always will, but I have to let my heart heal, to fill in that hole where you should be," he said as he stood, leaving the flowers propped against the stone.
David backed away a step, "I'm sorry Ariana. But I have to learn to let you go. I can't live as half a person anymore." David bit his lip and forced himself to back up another step instead of lying down on his loves grave and never moving again. Another step. And another. Clenching his teeth and closing his eyes, David turned from the silent graveyard and walked with slow steps back up the path to the gate, tears seeping from his eyes, and his breaths coming in choked sobs.
Turning at the gate, he could just make out her grave marker. "I'm sorry Ariana," he whispered one last time before he got into his car and drove away.
Know What You Mean
Dan took a deep breath and stepped off the bus. They were almost home, just on the outskirts of the city. Once they were dropped off at the house, Captain Lyle had to drive on, so Kevin agreed to stop at the nearest gas station so Captain Lyle could get some coffee.
Dan was grateful for the chance to stretch his legs. One week - it was hard to imagine that one week ago they’d been in Germany, that they’d watched Carolyn and John kill a whole slew of men who were trying to kidnap Bob for...something. It ran in the news as some sort of earthquake, but Dan could still remember the explosions, the screaming, the terror.
The broken-hearted look on his brother’s face as Carolyn walked away.
Kevin bought it too easily, that after all these years John was done with the drama that went down every tour and he was going to take his daughter and walk away. They’d finished out the tour short one roadie and one translator.
The misery that pervaded the bus was stifling. Shelley knew about Carolyn and Bob, but somehow Kevin had been oblivious the entire time, and so he was completely unsympathetic about the fact that she was gone. Dan and his brothers barely spoke to each other. Whenever they made eye contact they remembered - Dan clutching a gun, too terrified to shoot; Clay and Bob clinging desperately to each other and trying to navigate the streets of Munich; Scott running alongside Carolyn, blood-spattered and carrying a machine gun. It was just easier not to talk.
Dan shuffled toward the convenience store with the company card to pay for the gas. He was exhausted, physically and mentally. He wanted to lie down on his own bed and sleep without the sound of screaming girls ringing in his ears.
Someone bumped into him. Dan jumped back, automatically bringing his fists up into a fighting stance, but then he saw that the person was just another boy his age, wearing a uniform shirt. A gas station employee, then.
Dan scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
The boy shrugged, smiled. “’S’all right. You look pretty beat.”
“I don’t even know what time it is,” Dan confessed.
“Pretty late,” the boy said. Then his brow furrowed, and Dan knew it was coming moments before it happened.
“Hey.” The boy grinned. “You’re Dan Summers.”
“Yeah. I am.”
“I really dig your music.” The boy offered a hand. “I’m Joey.”
Dan shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Joey.”
“Don’t worry,” Joey said. “I won’t alert the girls on shift.”
“Thanks,” Dan said. “My brothers and I would really appreciate that.”
Joey laughed. “I don’t know how you can stand the screaming.”
“Some days it’s a wonder I can stand the girls,” Dan muttered, and then his throat closed. No. He hadn’t just admitted that aloud.
But Joey laughed again. “I know what you mean.”
(500 words - more Joey, for Madness)
Dan was grateful for the chance to stretch his legs. One week - it was hard to imagine that one week ago they’d been in Germany, that they’d watched Carolyn and John kill a whole slew of men who were trying to kidnap Bob for...something. It ran in the news as some sort of earthquake, but Dan could still remember the explosions, the screaming, the terror.
The broken-hearted look on his brother’s face as Carolyn walked away.
Kevin bought it too easily, that after all these years John was done with the drama that went down every tour and he was going to take his daughter and walk away. They’d finished out the tour short one roadie and one translator.
The misery that pervaded the bus was stifling. Shelley knew about Carolyn and Bob, but somehow Kevin had been oblivious the entire time, and so he was completely unsympathetic about the fact that she was gone. Dan and his brothers barely spoke to each other. Whenever they made eye contact they remembered - Dan clutching a gun, too terrified to shoot; Clay and Bob clinging desperately to each other and trying to navigate the streets of Munich; Scott running alongside Carolyn, blood-spattered and carrying a machine gun. It was just easier not to talk.
Dan shuffled toward the convenience store with the company card to pay for the gas. He was exhausted, physically and mentally. He wanted to lie down on his own bed and sleep without the sound of screaming girls ringing in his ears.
Someone bumped into him. Dan jumped back, automatically bringing his fists up into a fighting stance, but then he saw that the person was just another boy his age, wearing a uniform shirt. A gas station employee, then.
Dan scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
The boy shrugged, smiled. “’S’all right. You look pretty beat.”
“I don’t even know what time it is,” Dan confessed.
“Pretty late,” the boy said. Then his brow furrowed, and Dan knew it was coming moments before it happened.
“Hey.” The boy grinned. “You’re Dan Summers.”
“Yeah. I am.”
“I really dig your music.” The boy offered a hand. “I’m Joey.”
Dan shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Joey.”
“Don’t worry,” Joey said. “I won’t alert the girls on shift.”
“Thanks,” Dan said. “My brothers and I would really appreciate that.”
Joey laughed. “I don’t know how you can stand the screaming.”
“Some days it’s a wonder I can stand the girls,” Dan muttered, and then his throat closed. No. He hadn’t just admitted that aloud.
But Joey laughed again. “I know what you mean.”
(500 words - more Joey, for Madness)
I Poured My Heart Out
On one hand, there’s Layla.
I love Layla. I have since the moment I laid eyes on her. She was beautiful, and crazy, and I ate it all up. It was nice to have someone to be crazy with. I felt like I could actually be myself with her, that I didn’t have to be responsible. I could be a kid forever, and she would always be by my side, holding my hand as we ran off into the sunset.
Things change, though.
I’ve almost lost Layla a few times. Because she’s crazy, and because she’s always changing her mind, she hates it here in Fayeville. She says that this place reeks of stagnation… whatever that means. Who am I kidding? I know what it means. See, I’m the kind of guy that was meant to grow up, live, and die in Fayeville. I just can’t find a reason to leave. Layla would have been a good reason, but… I was too scared to do it. That’s why she left the first time.
Then, there’s Sam.
I’ve known Sam my whole life. Well, I don’t think that’s true necessarily, but I have known her for quite a long time. For some reason, we just clicked all of a sudden. We understood each other. That doesn’t mean that we didn’t have our differences, because we do. She’s very book smart, and she wants to get out of here too. Not as bad as Layla does, but she wants to go learn about the world. Now, I’m not a dumb guy, but I am aware of my limits. Sometimes Sam has to explain things to me – she doesn’t do it to degrade me, she just says things in a way that I can understand them. She always seems to have a handle on things, and she was always there when I needed her. Especially when Layla left.
I think I knew that she loved me.
I was just too afraid, and too consumed by Layla to really notice. But I could see it, sometimes.
Hell, I felt it sometimes.
Layla… Sam… I’m so sorry. I wish I knew how to make both of you happy. I wish I knew what would really make me happy.
I guess there’s only one way to find out.
(382 words)
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Preasure Inside
Alec blinked in the dim light, he seemed to see himself at the same time that he could feel himself slipping away. He could see Joe by his bed, see his own body covered in tubes and wires. He could hear Joe crying, and at the same time, trying not to cry. Alec felt the ghostly presure against his hand when Joe squeezed it. He looked down at his own hand and then at the one that Joe held.
Alec hovered over the scene below him, a slient witness to his own bodies fate. He could remember the crash, but he felt no pain, only the faint echo of a memory tied him to what his body had been through.
Alec reached out to put a comforting hand on his brothers shoulder, but he couldn't feel anything. He was sure that Joe couldn't feel anything either. "I'm sorry Joe," Alec said in a low voice, though he knew that Joe would never again hear him, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I have to leave you, I'm sorry that I can't stay. I'm sorry that you will be alone. You're tough. I know you don't think that you are, but I know that you are and that you can make it. I'm sorry you have to go through this alone. I'm sorry for everything Joe," Alec said. He felt his throat closing up as if he would cry, but he knew that having no body meant he couldn't relieve that preasure building inside.
Alec drew a shuddering breath, "I'm sorry Joseph," he whispered as he faded from the room.
Alec hovered over the scene below him, a slient witness to his own bodies fate. He could remember the crash, but he felt no pain, only the faint echo of a memory tied him to what his body had been through.
Alec reached out to put a comforting hand on his brothers shoulder, but he couldn't feel anything. He was sure that Joe couldn't feel anything either. "I'm sorry Joe," Alec said in a low voice, though he knew that Joe would never again hear him, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I have to leave you, I'm sorry that I can't stay. I'm sorry that you will be alone. You're tough. I know you don't think that you are, but I know that you are and that you can make it. I'm sorry you have to go through this alone. I'm sorry for everything Joe," Alec said. He felt his throat closing up as if he would cry, but he knew that having no body meant he couldn't relieve that preasure building inside.
Alec drew a shuddering breath, "I'm sorry Joseph," he whispered as he faded from the room.
Foster Care
“I’m so, so sorry!” Carolyn stepped back, hands pressed to her mouth.
The brothers gaped at where their sensei lay sprawled in the grass.
“I didn’t mean to hit you so hard,” Carolyn said. She tugged anxiously at one of her pigtails.
Scott and Clay looked at her with newfound admiration.
Dan leaned over, rested his hands on his knees. “Sensei Hammond, are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just - gimme a moment.” Sensei took a deep breath, then heaved himself up onto his knees. He clutched his stomach and eyed Carolyn. “You got a solid right hook there, sweetheart. Pull your punches from now on, okay?”
“Yes, sensei!” Carolyn bobbed her head obediently.
“You told her to punch you as hard as she could,” Bob pointed out.
Sensei nodded. “I know. I just wasn’t expecting such a tiny girl to pack such a huge hit.”
Carolyn ducked her head. “I’m really sorry, sensei.”
“Stop apologizing, kid,” he said. He turned to the boys and wagged a finger at them. “You boys better treat her right - she’s pretty strong.”
“She’s one of the boys,” Scott said proudly, and swung at her playfully.
Carolyn blocked automatically.
Sensei sighed. “Kid, did someone give you caffeine?”
“Captain Lyle let me drink some of his coffee,” Carolyn confessed.
Sensei winced. “Right. Get over and - show Bob how to punch. C’mere, Bob.”
Bob scooted toward Carolyn, dark eyes wary. Then he fell into a fighting stance. “Show me what you got!”
Scott tackled him.
The lesson dissolved from there. Sensei was surprised to find himself standing on the sidelines, Carolyn beside him, watching in bemusement as the four brothers laughed and brawled.
“Where’d you learn how to hit like that?” Sensei asked.
Carolyn shrugged. “I used to be in foster care.”
(293 words)
The brothers gaped at where their sensei lay sprawled in the grass.
“I didn’t mean to hit you so hard,” Carolyn said. She tugged anxiously at one of her pigtails.
Scott and Clay looked at her with newfound admiration.
Dan leaned over, rested his hands on his knees. “Sensei Hammond, are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just - gimme a moment.” Sensei took a deep breath, then heaved himself up onto his knees. He clutched his stomach and eyed Carolyn. “You got a solid right hook there, sweetheart. Pull your punches from now on, okay?”
“Yes, sensei!” Carolyn bobbed her head obediently.
“You told her to punch you as hard as she could,” Bob pointed out.
Sensei nodded. “I know. I just wasn’t expecting such a tiny girl to pack such a huge hit.”
Carolyn ducked her head. “I’m really sorry, sensei.”
“Stop apologizing, kid,” he said. He turned to the boys and wagged a finger at them. “You boys better treat her right - she’s pretty strong.”
“She’s one of the boys,” Scott said proudly, and swung at her playfully.
Carolyn blocked automatically.
Sensei sighed. “Kid, did someone give you caffeine?”
“Captain Lyle let me drink some of his coffee,” Carolyn confessed.
Sensei winced. “Right. Get over and - show Bob how to punch. C’mere, Bob.”
Bob scooted toward Carolyn, dark eyes wary. Then he fell into a fighting stance. “Show me what you got!”
Scott tackled him.
The lesson dissolved from there. Sensei was surprised to find himself standing on the sidelines, Carolyn beside him, watching in bemusement as the four brothers laughed and brawled.
“Where’d you learn how to hit like that?” Sensei asked.
Carolyn shrugged. “I used to be in foster care.”
(293 words)
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
I Can't See
Vince sat on the couch, his limbs twitching nervously. He couldn’t sit still. The reason for this was pacing back and forth in front of him. Layla finally stopped, her arms folded across her chest. A classic defense mechanism. Sam had taught him that.
“Layla, I’m sorry. I mean, what else do you want me to say?” Vince was trying to be apologetic, but he knew he was coming off as irate. Everything had been so crazy in the last few days, and he was having a hard time dealing with it. Of course, he couldn’t imagine what Layla was going through. Or Sam.
“You know what I find amusing?” Layla’s voice was low and uneven. She was trying to stay calm, but Vince could tell that she wanted to scream at him. “I find it very amusing that you are the one apologizing to me.”
Vince blinked a few times. “Wh-what? What do you mean?”
“Sam is the one who started all this bullshit. Telling me that she had feelings for you and she couldn’t hide them anymore.” It was here that Layla rolled her eyes, and Vince felt his fists clench. “I mean, I trusted her. And now she’s trying to take you away from me.”
Layla stared off into the distance, pretending to space out. What she was really doing was waiting for Vince to explain himself.
“Look,” Vince finally began, “she’s already apologized to me for what she’s done. I don’t think she’s going to try anything. I think she just needed to say it.” Vince remembered her apology from the night before, what his gut reaction had been, and tried to hide the redness creeping into his face.
“Well then, Vince.” Layla’s words were dripping with spite. “How do you feel about this? I haven’t heard your opinion yet.”
He was getting tired of this. Vince almost wanted to leave town that very instant, forget about Layla, forget about Sam. But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.
“You want to know what my opinion is, Layla? I don’t have an opinion. In fact, I’m really confused at this point.” Layla looked like she wanted to interject, but Vince held up his hand so she would let him finish. “I do love you, Layla. I do. But I don’t want to lose Sam. I honestly don’t know how I feel about her, and I think I need to figure that out before I go declaring anything else.”
“Wait, are you saying you’re leaving me for her?” Layla was screechy now.
“Did I say that? No. I didn’t.” Vince shook his head in frustration. “I’m going out for a couple of hours. I’ll talk to you when I get back.”
He left before she could say anything else.
(460 words)
It Better Be.
"Come on Mark, I said I was sorry didn't I?" Bryan asked.
Mark shot him another glare and turned his back on his twin.
Bryan reached out and pulled Mark around to face him, "I said I'm sorry. Can't you accept that?"
Mark narrowed his eyes at his brother, "I just don't know how you could have done that to me Bryan," he said.
"I'll make it up to you," Bryan promised, "just stop being mad at me."
"Alright," Mark said, "but it better be the same."
"It will, believe me, it will," Bryan said as he broke into a grin and started to hurry away.
"I still can't believe you ate all my cookies!" Mark hollered after his brother.
Mark shot him another glare and turned his back on his twin.
Bryan reached out and pulled Mark around to face him, "I said I'm sorry. Can't you accept that?"
Mark narrowed his eyes at his brother, "I just don't know how you could have done that to me Bryan," he said.
"I'll make it up to you," Bryan promised, "just stop being mad at me."
"Alright," Mark said, "but it better be the same."
"It will, believe me, it will," Bryan said as he broke into a grin and started to hurry away.
"I still can't believe you ate all my cookies!" Mark hollered after his brother.
Make Him Happy
Kevin supposed he was lucky that Dinah and Shelley hadn’t set up some sort of restraining order against him, and once he’d shown the nurses his ID they’d let him in to his son’s hospital room.
He stood at the foot of the bed, stared at the tubes and needles and machines and pumps keeping his youngest boy alive. Bob, ever the responsible one, had called to tell him what happened, left a brief, impersonal message on his answering machine. Judging by the flowers and cards and an old stuffed bear, everyone else had already been by to visit Dan.
Kevin tucked his hands into his pockets. Then he cleared his throat. When he spoke his voice wavered.
“I’m sorry, Danny. I’m sorry I reacted the way I did, that I pushed you and your brothers away, that I abandoned you all when you needed me most. I’m sorry I got so focused on success that I forgot you were my sons. I’m sorry I walked away and never looked back. I’m sorry --” He choked. “I’m sorry that you might die thinking I ever stopped loving you. You’re my son, Danny. I’ve loved you since the moment the nurse put you in my arms, pink and crying and alive.” He pressed a fist to his mouth to hold back a sob. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you from those robbers --”
“It wasn’t a robber.”
Kevin turned.
The young man who stood in the doorway had shadows under his eyes and looked as though he hadn’t slept in days.
“It was a hate crime. They caught Dan coming out of one of the clubs in the pink triangle quarter and tried to kill him. Luckily for him, he remembered some of that horrific karate training you put him through and he fought them off long enough for someone to notice and call the cops.” The young man had his arms crossed over his chest and was positively radiating hostility.
Kevin took a deep breath. “You must be Joey.”
“You must be Kevin.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, then Kevin shuffled toward the door. Joey stepped back to avoid touching him.
“I won’t bother you again,” Kevin said.
“Don’t you want me to tell Dan that his father came to see him?”
Kevin glanced back at the unconscious figure on the bed. “Only if you think it’ll make him happy.”
(404 words)
He stood at the foot of the bed, stared at the tubes and needles and machines and pumps keeping his youngest boy alive. Bob, ever the responsible one, had called to tell him what happened, left a brief, impersonal message on his answering machine. Judging by the flowers and cards and an old stuffed bear, everyone else had already been by to visit Dan.
Kevin tucked his hands into his pockets. Then he cleared his throat. When he spoke his voice wavered.
“I’m sorry, Danny. I’m sorry I reacted the way I did, that I pushed you and your brothers away, that I abandoned you all when you needed me most. I’m sorry I got so focused on success that I forgot you were my sons. I’m sorry I walked away and never looked back. I’m sorry --” He choked. “I’m sorry that you might die thinking I ever stopped loving you. You’re my son, Danny. I’ve loved you since the moment the nurse put you in my arms, pink and crying and alive.” He pressed a fist to his mouth to hold back a sob. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you from those robbers --”
“It wasn’t a robber.”
Kevin turned.
The young man who stood in the doorway had shadows under his eyes and looked as though he hadn’t slept in days.
“It was a hate crime. They caught Dan coming out of one of the clubs in the pink triangle quarter and tried to kill him. Luckily for him, he remembered some of that horrific karate training you put him through and he fought them off long enough for someone to notice and call the cops.” The young man had his arms crossed over his chest and was positively radiating hostility.
Kevin took a deep breath. “You must be Joey.”
“You must be Kevin.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, then Kevin shuffled toward the door. Joey stepped back to avoid touching him.
“I won’t bother you again,” Kevin said.
“Don’t you want me to tell Dan that his father came to see him?”
Kevin glanced back at the unconscious figure on the bed. “Only if you think it’ll make him happy.”
(404 words)
Monday, October 5, 2009
Accepted
“Vince, I’m sorry.” It came out quickly, and I was wondering if he had even understood what I said. I unconsciously rubbed my arms in an attempt to keep warm. It was starting to get cold, and I had once again forgotten a jacket.
“Sam, what are you even sorry for? Do you know?” Apparently a simple apology wasn’t gonna cut it this time. Vince wasn’t glaring at me, but he was giving me a look that could kill – well, it was killing me, at any rate.
“I’m sorry for…” I stumbled and tripped over all the thoughts in my head, trying to decide what the right answer was. Was there any answer at this point? “…f-for telling Layla how I felt about you, for getting in the middle, for potentially ruining the best thing in your life, for falling for you, for wanting to be with you, for everything.”
I turned away and started down the flight of stairs that led to the parking lot. In the last twenty-four hours, I may have destroyed the last good relationship I had left in my life. Vince was my world – he was the person I turned to when everything else became too much to handle. Life was simple with him. In reality, it was anything but simple. I loved him. And I had just let myself apologize for it.
My mind had been running miles and miles a minute, so I literally jumped when I felt Vince grab my arm. I turned to look at him, but he was already pulling me closer. His lips were on mine and I was in such a state of shock that at first, there wasn’t much I could do but just stand frozen. By the time I was ready to actually respond, he had already broken the contact and stepped back.
“Vince…” I wasn’t sure whether I was happy or furious.
“Sam, I’m sorry too.” Vince shook his head and turned away, going back up to his apartment.
I wasn’t entirely sure what was going on now. But this was far from over.
(349 words)
Moving On
Steve cringed back from the thought of seeing his commander again after last night. He shook his head. I should have kept my mouth shut. I just can never seem to get that right. Where is that mental filter when you need one. I should have just backed off and let it be.
Steve knew there was no avoiding David even if he wanted to. He took a deep breath and stepped out of his room early the next morning. He knew that David would be alone in the kitchen.
When Steve poked his head around the corner he could see David, his back was towards him, he was looking out the window and his posture told that he was tired, or resigned, or perhaps both. Steve slunk around the door frame and edged towards the coffee pot that was sitting near where David stood.
"Morning Boss," Steve said quietly.
"Good morning," David replied, but didn't turn from the window.
Steve drew in a breath before speaking, "I just wanted to say I'm sorry Boss. I shouldn't have butted in, it was not my place to say anything at all," Steve said.
David finally turned from the window and looked at his second in command, Steve looked miserable, and David couldn't help a ghost of a smile from flitting across his face. "It's alright Steve," he said, "you were and still are right. I should move on." David fell silent, but Steve didn't say anything, wanting to let David say his piece.
"I guess," David continued after a moment in low and broken tones, "I didn't want to let her go. She was the best woman I have ever known. She was my first love, and then she was gone. I suppose it was easier to hold on to her than to try to let her go and move on. I was going to marry her Steve, but then, you never knew that, you never knew anything about me. I guess if I moved on, then I would feel as if I were betraying her, that I had failed her, like I did before. I know that her death was not my fault, but I have always felt responsible for her murder. I should have been there with her. And maybe that would not have changed anything, but at least I could have tried to do something."
Steve reached out and placed one hand on David's shoulder and squeezed, offering silent support.
David continued, "I nearly died the winter following her death. I would have lain down and given up but for one person who saw me at the edge and pulled me back." David paused for a long time before speaking again, "at this point I don't know if I can move on. My heart has been frozen in place for so long that maybe it had forgotten how to beat, been ice for so long that it has forgotten what it was like to be flesh."
David drained off the last of his coffee as Steve stood in silence. He was certain that he alone would ever know what David had just told him.
David turned to Steve after placing his cup in the sink, "how does one move on Steve?" he asked.
Steve knew there was no avoiding David even if he wanted to. He took a deep breath and stepped out of his room early the next morning. He knew that David would be alone in the kitchen.
When Steve poked his head around the corner he could see David, his back was towards him, he was looking out the window and his posture told that he was tired, or resigned, or perhaps both. Steve slunk around the door frame and edged towards the coffee pot that was sitting near where David stood.
"Morning Boss," Steve said quietly.
"Good morning," David replied, but didn't turn from the window.
Steve drew in a breath before speaking, "I just wanted to say I'm sorry Boss. I shouldn't have butted in, it was not my place to say anything at all," Steve said.
David finally turned from the window and looked at his second in command, Steve looked miserable, and David couldn't help a ghost of a smile from flitting across his face. "It's alright Steve," he said, "you were and still are right. I should move on." David fell silent, but Steve didn't say anything, wanting to let David say his piece.
"I guess," David continued after a moment in low and broken tones, "I didn't want to let her go. She was the best woman I have ever known. She was my first love, and then she was gone. I suppose it was easier to hold on to her than to try to let her go and move on. I was going to marry her Steve, but then, you never knew that, you never knew anything about me. I guess if I moved on, then I would feel as if I were betraying her, that I had failed her, like I did before. I know that her death was not my fault, but I have always felt responsible for her murder. I should have been there with her. And maybe that would not have changed anything, but at least I could have tried to do something."
Steve reached out and placed one hand on David's shoulder and squeezed, offering silent support.
David continued, "I nearly died the winter following her death. I would have lain down and given up but for one person who saw me at the edge and pulled me back." David paused for a long time before speaking again, "at this point I don't know if I can move on. My heart has been frozen in place for so long that maybe it had forgotten how to beat, been ice for so long that it has forgotten what it was like to be flesh."
David drained off the last of his coffee as Steve stood in silence. He was certain that he alone would ever know what David had just told him.
David turned to Steve after placing his cup in the sink, "how does one move on Steve?" he asked.
Okay
“I’m sorry.”
Clay stood below the stage and watched Bob set up his drums. Almost two days later and Bob’s entire body was still thrumming with fury, every motion jerky with anger. He was still refusing to acknowledge that his brother even existed.
Clay took a deep breath and said, louder, “Tá bron orm.”
Bob paused, lifted his head. Clay cringed, ready for the rage in his brother’s eyes, and shock ricocheted down his spine when he saw hurt instead.
“I heard you the first time.”
Clay jammed his hands into his pockets, hunched his shoulders. “Bobby, I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t mean to --”
“What, you tripped and just happened to fall on my girlfriend?”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Clay said.
Bob closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “I know you didn’t mean to. I just don’t understand how you could possibly think that kissing Carolyn wouldn’t hurt me.”
“I wasn’t thinking.” Clay shrugged, the gesture defensive. “There’s no thinking in love, I guess.”
Bob’s eyes flew open. “You’re in love with Carolyn?”
Clay had to look away. There was a thump; Bob had jumped off the stage. He crossed the stadium floor, caught Clay by the shoulders.
“You’re really in love with her?”
Clay took a deep breath and nodded miserably, unable to look at Bob.
“Aw, hell,” Bob said.
Clay took another deep breath and was horrified when it caught in his throat and sounded like a sob. “I know she chose you. I just had to tell her so she’d understand --”
“That it hurts you too?” Bob said softly.
Clay couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to cry.
Bob pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I love her and she loves me and I’m sorry.”
Clay nodded into Bob’s shoulder. “Don’t break up with her because of me. You’re my brother - I want you to be happy.” He sniffled and felt distinctly pathetic.
Bob held him tightly. “We’ll do our best so it doesn’t hurt so much, okay?”
“Okay.”
(340 words)
Clay stood below the stage and watched Bob set up his drums. Almost two days later and Bob’s entire body was still thrumming with fury, every motion jerky with anger. He was still refusing to acknowledge that his brother even existed.
Clay took a deep breath and said, louder, “Tá bron orm.”
Bob paused, lifted his head. Clay cringed, ready for the rage in his brother’s eyes, and shock ricocheted down his spine when he saw hurt instead.
“I heard you the first time.”
Clay jammed his hands into his pockets, hunched his shoulders. “Bobby, I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t mean to --”
“What, you tripped and just happened to fall on my girlfriend?”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Clay said.
Bob closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “I know you didn’t mean to. I just don’t understand how you could possibly think that kissing Carolyn wouldn’t hurt me.”
“I wasn’t thinking.” Clay shrugged, the gesture defensive. “There’s no thinking in love, I guess.”
Bob’s eyes flew open. “You’re in love with Carolyn?”
Clay had to look away. There was a thump; Bob had jumped off the stage. He crossed the stadium floor, caught Clay by the shoulders.
“You’re really in love with her?”
Clay took a deep breath and nodded miserably, unable to look at Bob.
“Aw, hell,” Bob said.
Clay took another deep breath and was horrified when it caught in his throat and sounded like a sob. “I know she chose you. I just had to tell her so she’d understand --”
“That it hurts you too?” Bob said softly.
Clay couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to cry.
Bob pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I love her and she loves me and I’m sorry.”
Clay nodded into Bob’s shoulder. “Don’t break up with her because of me. You’re my brother - I want you to be happy.” He sniffled and felt distinctly pathetic.
Bob held him tightly. “We’ll do our best so it doesn’t hurt so much, okay?”
“Okay.”
(340 words)
Overview #44 - Vices
Nice work this week to Madness and Nagi. Seriously, everything this week was awesome. Sorry that I wasn't around much, haven't had a whole lot of computer time, which is where I usually do my writing. I need to get back into writing in notebooks again.
I thought my one post this week was okay... I kind of want to establish characters, but at the same time I don't. Do you guys think I need a name and a face to connect my little vignettes to? Or are they fine just the way they are?
This week's winner is Nagi... just because she rarely gets stuff written for her. She's usually the one writing for everybody else. So name your prize, darlin'.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Overview #44 - Vices
This week was interesting for me. Mostly because I am still trying to establish cannon, so I am hesitant to give my characters anything to big that I don't think that I can handle as a writer yet. So I chose to accentuate some of their habits into extreme versions; dancing, running, procrastination, etc...
So in the future, they will probably have worse problems, but not until I am sure that I can write it right and not make it terrible.
So in the future, they will probably have worse problems, but not until I am sure that I can write it right and not make it terrible.
Project Assignment # 45 - Apologies
Apologies people. Apologies is the name of the game this week. Does Carolyn ever tell them in person that she is sorry. Do the boys of the Special ops even know how to say sorry?
It can be a big apology, or a small one. One that for someone means all the world, or one that they received but never would have thought needed to be apologized for.
A large incident or a passing bump in the hall.
Lets set the limit at 500 words.
Have fun everyone!
It can be a big apology, or a small one. One that for someone means all the world, or one that they received but never would have thought needed to be apologized for.
A large incident or a passing bump in the hall.
Lets set the limit at 500 words.
Have fun everyone!
Overview #44: Vices
Ah. I This week I wasn't sure I did the right thing. I spent more time on Carolyn than I would have liked. Also, it would have been a hell of a lot of fun to get into Scott's vices, since he has alcohol on the list as well. It was difficult for me to come up with vices that aren't typical rock-star vices for the boys. Carolyn's vices are pretty much my own. As are some of Bob's. Still, any chance I have to delve into the nooks and crannies of a character is much appreciated. As usual, Clay surprised me, as did Dan.
I still want to know what Clay hides in his room.
I still want to know what Clay hides in his room.
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