“He still alive?” Gabriel asked quietly.
Keith pressed two fingers to Chase’s throat. Chase didn’t even flinch, and Gabriel was worried he’d gone catatonic.
“He’s barely breathing,” Keith said.
“What happened?” Gabriel leaned down, tried to meet Chase’s gaze. It was impolite to go prowling into someone else’s mind uninvited, and besides, Chase was mundane.
“She’s gone,” Chase said faintly.
“She who?” Keith fished in his pocket, ostensibly for a penlight to shine in Chase’s eyes, but Gabriel batted his hand aside.
“Asia,” Chase said.
Gabriel blinked. “Where did she go?” He glanced at Keith, and he knew they were both thinking the impossible had somehow become possible. Hagalaz had them on the run, scrambling like rats for the nearest holes to the sewer. There’d been fire and crossfire and Asia had ordered it, every man for himself.
“I woke up and all of her things were gone,” Chase said. “Everything. Her keys, the receipts and change from when we ordered take-out last night. It’s all gone. It’s like she wasn’t even here.”
Gabriel felt something tighten in his chest. He hadn’t known about Asia and Chase. None of them had. That it still hurt, after all these years, to find out that she’d given her affection to someone else, was pretty pathetic, but it hurt all the same. Keith looked equally grim at the notion. That Asia had come to Chase in the aftermath of all that happened had to mean something. Didn’t it?
Gabriel shot straight across the Web to speak to Keith. I wonder which hurts more, thinking that she died or knowing that she walked away voluntarily.
In our case, we got hit with both – first one, then t’other, Keith said.
“Chase,” he said aloud, “pack up your essentials and run. We come bearing orders from Tops. Deep cover.”
“How long?”
“Till he says otherwise,” Gabriel said.
Chase blinked and shook his head, stood up, but he still looked dazed. “Fine. Where are you going?”
“Deep cover,” Keith said. “Unless we run into each other by accident, it’ll be as if you never knew us.”
“Fine. Just let me get my –”
A knock at the door startled them. Chase reached for his gun before he answered. His sharp intake of breath was all Gabriel needed to know about who was on the doorstep.
“You came back.” Chase’s voice choked on the last word.
“Not permanently.” Asia sounded perfectly calm. “I’m here for my team, actually.”
“But we’re splitting up,” Keith said, and he sounded angry.
“Not us. Just him,” Asia said, and Gabriel felt the viciousness of her smooth words like a punch to the gut.
“Me alone? Why? What am I supposed to do...?”
When the best part of me was always you, Gabriel thought, and Keith nodded his assent. Asia had a way of taking the best of a man turning into the worst – the best of the worst.
From each of them she had taken love and turned it into murder.
(499 words)
(Break Even by The Script)
Friday, February 11, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Mama
"Hi mama," I said quietly as I knelt down in the cool grass of the late afternoon. I reached out and brushed a little bit of dirt from the smooth granite of the headstone; it was still a little warm from the sun.
"There are so many things I wanted to say to you," I began to talk to my mom, as if she were there, as if she could hear me. "Things that I never had a chance to say. Things that I didn't understand or couldn't express," my voice trailed off as memories came to the surface. Memories of good times, memories of how she had shaped my young life. Many of my memories flitted like insubstantial wisps, and others stood out in sharp detail.
"I know I probably never said it enough, but I love you. And I wanted to thank you," I paused, again assaulted by memories. "Mama thank you for who I am," I began, "thank you for all the things I'm not." I knew that because of her my job had a purpose. I was not like many of the others in the units who had little to no soul, who didn't care who they hurt and why.
"Mama remember all my life, you showed me love, You sacrificed. I think of those young and early days and how I've changed along the way," I continued to ramble on, just pouring my heart out. I felt tears begin to form, this day had been long in coming and now that it was here I found it hard to go on.
"I know you believed in me and I know you had dreams. And I'm sorry it took all this time for me to see; That I am where I am because of your truth. I miss you," I choked out, "I miss you."
I stood up on unsteady feet, "Everything that I am I owe to you, mama," I whispered and turned away.
"There are so many things I wanted to say to you," I began to talk to my mom, as if she were there, as if she could hear me. "Things that I never had a chance to say. Things that I didn't understand or couldn't express," my voice trailed off as memories came to the surface. Memories of good times, memories of how she had shaped my young life. Many of my memories flitted like insubstantial wisps, and others stood out in sharp detail.
"I know I probably never said it enough, but I love you. And I wanted to thank you," I paused, again assaulted by memories. "Mama thank you for who I am," I began, "thank you for all the things I'm not." I knew that because of her my job had a purpose. I was not like many of the others in the units who had little to no soul, who didn't care who they hurt and why.
"Mama remember all my life, you showed me love, You sacrificed. I think of those young and early days and how I've changed along the way," I continued to ramble on, just pouring my heart out. I felt tears begin to form, this day had been long in coming and now that it was here I found it hard to go on.
"I know you believed in me and I know you had dreams. And I'm sorry it took all this time for me to see; That I am where I am because of your truth. I miss you," I choked out, "I miss you."
I stood up on unsteady feet, "Everything that I am I owe to you, mama," I whispered and turned away.
Science and Faith - The Script
Christian wasn't the smartest on his team by any stretch of the imagination, but he'd hung around Tobias and Keith long enough to learn a thing or two about science. Whenever an emergency evacuation order came down, most men drew their guns and laid down cover. Unfortunately for Christian, he had no gun - just his wits and his smile.
"Phenylethylamine, dopamine, and oxytocin," he said.
Leighanne blinked. "What?"
"Love," Christian said. "It's three chemicals that your body produces in reaction to another person - or eating chocolate or skydiving, depending on your preferences."
"Are you saying you don't believe in love?" Leighanne looked both surprised and hurt by his declaration, but He saw the subtle slump of her shoulders, her disconsolate sigh. So she'd sensed he was distant, and she was right about the distance if not the cause. She thought he didn't love her anymore. He'd never loved her at all.
"I realize I come with a country drawl and I like Jim Carrey movies, but when push comes to shove, I'm a rational person. I understand science, and I know that science, unlike emotions, produces quantifiable results." Christian hated Brian's country drawl, but if he played his cards right he would never have to use it again. "I prefer to make decisions based on quantifiable results rather than the whims of emotions, which are chemical projections anyway."
Leighanne stared down at her hands for a long moment, then up at him. "What are you saying?"
"After four years the body becomes accustomed to the chemicals that flood the brain and attraction wanes. There's no way to counteract the body's acclimation," Christian said. Tobias would have been proud.
"We've been married for four years," Leighanne said.
Christian nodded.
"And you want to throw it away on the whims of chemistry?" There was anger in her voice. Good. When Christian was done breaking her heart, she would never speak to him again, and he could work without fear of reprisal. Christian wondered if this was how Asia had done it all those times, framed the breaking of a human heart in terms of priority and mission efficiency. He wondered if she was pleased at her success. He knew he would succeed, and already he disliked the situation immensely.
Disliked the situation immensely. He'd been around Asia for far too long.
"I think you're lying, that something else is going on here," Leighanne said. "But if you're telling the truth, there's something I have to say before you go."
Christian reached for the bag he'd packed. "Speak your piece."
"You can break everything down to chemicals, but you can't explain a love like ours. You love me, and I love you, and even if it defies rationality or explanation, it's true, and it always will be."
Christian nodded. He wouldn't tell her that their love never was, and it could all be explained by a slip of paper that landed on his desk one day titled "orders".
(497 words)
"Phenylethylamine, dopamine, and oxytocin," he said.
Leighanne blinked. "What?"
"Love," Christian said. "It's three chemicals that your body produces in reaction to another person - or eating chocolate or skydiving, depending on your preferences."
"Are you saying you don't believe in love?" Leighanne looked both surprised and hurt by his declaration, but He saw the subtle slump of her shoulders, her disconsolate sigh. So she'd sensed he was distant, and she was right about the distance if not the cause. She thought he didn't love her anymore. He'd never loved her at all.
"I realize I come with a country drawl and I like Jim Carrey movies, but when push comes to shove, I'm a rational person. I understand science, and I know that science, unlike emotions, produces quantifiable results." Christian hated Brian's country drawl, but if he played his cards right he would never have to use it again. "I prefer to make decisions based on quantifiable results rather than the whims of emotions, which are chemical projections anyway."
Leighanne stared down at her hands for a long moment, then up at him. "What are you saying?"
"After four years the body becomes accustomed to the chemicals that flood the brain and attraction wanes. There's no way to counteract the body's acclimation," Christian said. Tobias would have been proud.
"We've been married for four years," Leighanne said.
Christian nodded.
"And you want to throw it away on the whims of chemistry?" There was anger in her voice. Good. When Christian was done breaking her heart, she would never speak to him again, and he could work without fear of reprisal. Christian wondered if this was how Asia had done it all those times, framed the breaking of a human heart in terms of priority and mission efficiency. He wondered if she was pleased at her success. He knew he would succeed, and already he disliked the situation immensely.
Disliked the situation immensely. He'd been around Asia for far too long.
"I think you're lying, that something else is going on here," Leighanne said. "But if you're telling the truth, there's something I have to say before you go."
Christian reached for the bag he'd packed. "Speak your piece."
"You can break everything down to chemicals, but you can't explain a love like ours. You love me, and I love you, and even if it defies rationality or explanation, it's true, and it always will be."
Christian nodded. He wouldn't tell her that their love never was, and it could all be explained by a slip of paper that landed on his desk one day titled "orders".
(497 words)
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Encounter
That morning, the salty ocean fog was split by quilted patches of steel and iron. Massive metal towers rose from the docked naval fleet like naked trees in winter with branches made of salt-rusted turrets and cannon barrels. The sun began to warm the wharf with the faintest blue light. The horizon was clear, and none of the sailors stumbling back towards the dock could have expected such a storm coming their way.
The rising sun was higher now than it was then. Its golden rays were muffled under rows of black smoke and streaks of orange anti-air fire ripping from the crippled fleet. Cloudy columns of soot boiled up into the air from sinking ships as a dragons and gryphons dueled above.
Gadget’s leather-clad body hugged the rusted frame of her Skyraider. The open wind rushed over her back while steam bursted from the carrier’s pulley system. It vaulted her flying machine up and away from the flight deck. Her hips rode low in the saddle, and the famous 401st Air Cavalry Feathers painted onto the weathered Skyraider’s hull flanked her flexing thighs. Below the tail art - in fresh white paint - was a name: “Grace”.
Zzzcheew-zchew-zchew! A string of three super-heated lead slugs zipped by. Gadget’s eyes searched desperately beyond the blur of her forward-slung propellers for a open route as the whistles of another burst of enemy rounds whizzed by her wind-whipped orange hair yet again.
“He’s on you, Gadget! Break left, break left!”, Jim’s panicked voice commanded over the radio. Gadget’s heart was pulled into her stomach as the aircraft dipped its left wing and shuddered away from a yet another fiery line of lead. The Skyraider’s engine roared in protest like a warhorse whose own bit had sliced open its mouth. The pilot’s lungs rattled in her chest as she rode the whining machine into an inverted bank. Gadget’s hands were white-knuckled at the reins of her flying iron steed as she careened for the water. A white froth of water was cast into the air as she kicked out the end of the Skyraider and pointed the curved ‘beak’ of it’s nose inland at the last moment. The fleet was already lost, but this was no retreat from battle. It was a rushing charge to catch the Imperial airships headed toward the city.
A sleek black machine followed - it’s twin rearward propellers hissing as it sliced through one of the thick smoke columns slithering up from a dying ship. Seeing those short forward-swept wings and the wide, but razorlike front blade of the machine’s hammerhead-nose slicing through the sky was akin to seeing a shark fin in bloody water. This was no ordinary Imperial airman piloting a Ryu. The furious dragon made of speed, sheet metal, and rivets chasing her down was being ‘wielded’ by a Kurokaze Samurai.
“Get him off me, Jim.” She said, through gritted teeth. “Get me home to Grace.”
(497)
The rising sun was higher now than it was then. Its golden rays were muffled under rows of black smoke and streaks of orange anti-air fire ripping from the crippled fleet. Cloudy columns of soot boiled up into the air from sinking ships as a dragons and gryphons dueled above.
Gadget’s leather-clad body hugged the rusted frame of her Skyraider. The open wind rushed over her back while steam bursted from the carrier’s pulley system. It vaulted her flying machine up and away from the flight deck. Her hips rode low in the saddle, and the famous 401st Air Cavalry Feathers painted onto the weathered Skyraider’s hull flanked her flexing thighs. Below the tail art - in fresh white paint - was a name: “Grace”.
Zzzcheew-zchew-zchew! A string of three super-heated lead slugs zipped by. Gadget’s eyes searched desperately beyond the blur of her forward-slung propellers for a open route as the whistles of another burst of enemy rounds whizzed by her wind-whipped orange hair yet again.
“He’s on you, Gadget! Break left, break left!”, Jim’s panicked voice commanded over the radio. Gadget’s heart was pulled into her stomach as the aircraft dipped its left wing and shuddered away from a yet another fiery line of lead. The Skyraider’s engine roared in protest like a warhorse whose own bit had sliced open its mouth. The pilot’s lungs rattled in her chest as she rode the whining machine into an inverted bank. Gadget’s hands were white-knuckled at the reins of her flying iron steed as she careened for the water. A white froth of water was cast into the air as she kicked out the end of the Skyraider and pointed the curved ‘beak’ of it’s nose inland at the last moment. The fleet was already lost, but this was no retreat from battle. It was a rushing charge to catch the Imperial airships headed toward the city.
A sleek black machine followed - it’s twin rearward propellers hissing as it sliced through one of the thick smoke columns slithering up from a dying ship. Seeing those short forward-swept wings and the wide, but razorlike front blade of the machine’s hammerhead-nose slicing through the sky was akin to seeing a shark fin in bloody water. This was no ordinary Imperial airman piloting a Ryu. The furious dragon made of speed, sheet metal, and rivets chasing her down was being ‘wielded’ by a Kurokaze Samurai.
“Get him off me, Jim.” She said, through gritted teeth. “Get me home to Grace.”
(497)
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Exit Wounds
DJ’s hands were cold, his body numb. He was in shock. “What have you done?”
The gun fell from Torin’s hands, clattered against the pavement. “I didn’t mean –”
“For what, for anyone to get hurt?” Casey snarled.
DJ’s heart was pounding, his vision blurred. Søren’s mouth was moving, but DJ couldn’t hear a word. He fell to his knees beside Celia, gathered her into his arms. Her shirt was soaked with blood, and her eyes were wide, surprised. DJ pawed aside her jacket, shoved her t-shirt up, searching for the entry point where the bullet went in.
“I don’t know how much blood you’ve lost,” he said.
Celia made a low choking noise. “I don’t know how much love my heart can lose.”
“Not love - blood,” DJ said. “You’re bleeding.” He lifted his head. “Someone call an ambulance!”
Celia lifted a hand, curved it against his jaw. “I love you. Remember that, okay?”
“Why will I have to remember it? You’ll tell me every day,” DJ said. “You hear me? Every day.”
Celia shook her head. “I’m blacking out, baby. Shutting down.”
DJ threw a desperate look upward. “Did anyone call an ambulance?”
Casey, Søren, Torin, Tiger and the others - they were all shouting at each other, and any moment they would start swinging at each other again.
DJ scooped Celia up into his arms and staggered to his feet, stumbled toward the mouth of the alley. An eternity, an instant later, he fell through the doors of the emergency room.
“She needs help!” he shouted. “Somebody help her.”
Several nurses shot him irritated looks, and a baby started to cry. One man cleared his throat.
“Sonny, everyone here needs help –”
“She’s been shot,” DJ said. “Please. Somebody!”
Nurses and doctors swarmed over him, and someone plucked Celia from his arms, placed her on a gurney. There were frantic shouts in angry Chinese mixed in with English, but DJ couldn’t understand any of it. As he knelt on the cold linoleum and watched them take Celia away, he felt himself shatter into a million pieces.
(346)
The gun fell from Torin’s hands, clattered against the pavement. “I didn’t mean –”
“For what, for anyone to get hurt?” Casey snarled.
DJ’s heart was pounding, his vision blurred. Søren’s mouth was moving, but DJ couldn’t hear a word. He fell to his knees beside Celia, gathered her into his arms. Her shirt was soaked with blood, and her eyes were wide, surprised. DJ pawed aside her jacket, shoved her t-shirt up, searching for the entry point where the bullet went in.
“I don’t know how much blood you’ve lost,” he said.
Celia made a low choking noise. “I don’t know how much love my heart can lose.”
“Not love - blood,” DJ said. “You’re bleeding.” He lifted his head. “Someone call an ambulance!”
Celia lifted a hand, curved it against his jaw. “I love you. Remember that, okay?”
“Why will I have to remember it? You’ll tell me every day,” DJ said. “You hear me? Every day.”
Celia shook her head. “I’m blacking out, baby. Shutting down.”
DJ threw a desperate look upward. “Did anyone call an ambulance?”
Casey, Søren, Torin, Tiger and the others - they were all shouting at each other, and any moment they would start swinging at each other again.
DJ scooped Celia up into his arms and staggered to his feet, stumbled toward the mouth of the alley. An eternity, an instant later, he fell through the doors of the emergency room.
“She needs help!” he shouted. “Somebody help her.”
Several nurses shot him irritated looks, and a baby started to cry. One man cleared his throat.
“Sonny, everyone here needs help –”
“She’s been shot,” DJ said. “Please. Somebody!”
Nurses and doctors swarmed over him, and someone plucked Celia from his arms, placed her on a gurney. There were frantic shouts in angry Chinese mixed in with English, but DJ couldn’t understand any of it. As he knelt on the cold linoleum and watched them take Celia away, he felt himself shatter into a million pieces.
(346)
Monday, February 7, 2011
No Second Chances
"Just a minute," I called towards the door when I heard the knock. I could feel my brow crinkle with confusion. Nobody that I knew would be coming around in the afternoon; they all had regular jobs that kept them busy. 'It's probably some door to door sales person,' I thought absently as I quickly finished typing out the last paragraph that I was working on and closed the lid to my laptop. I pulled a sweater on over my thin shirt as I stood up; the weather had gotten chilly recently and I didn't want to get sick. I was way too busy for that.
The knock sounded again on the pale oak of the front door.
"Yes? How can I..." My words died on my lips as my eyes fell on the man standing on my doorstep. A man I hadn't seen in four years.
"John," I whispered in shock.
"Hello Chris," he said, his mouth pulling into a crooked smile. A smile that I knew as well as if it were my own.
I was too stunned to even respond. A thousand memories and feelings connected to that smile stampeded across my mind.
"Chris?"
It was almost as if I heard him from a distance, his voice faint, an undercurrent to the rush of blood in my ears. "Chris? Are you alright?" he asked when I didn't move.
I jumped like I had been electrocuted when I felt his fingers brush my arm in concern.
My eyes once again focused on what was in front of me, "What are you doing here John?" I took a step back so that I was firmly out of reach. I didn't know how he had found me or even why he was here.
"I wanted to talk to you," he said as he folded his arms across his body, as if to keep his hands to himself.
"So talk."
"Chris, I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry," he began.
"It's Christina," I interrupted him, "please don't call me Chris. Nobody calls me Chris anymore."
'Nobody since you,' I thought to myself.
"Okay, Christina," he almost stumbled over my full name, "I wanted to tell you that I was sorry, that I was completely in the wrong..."
His voice faded into the background again as the memories of that night so many years ago played across my mind.
********
Most of the memories of that day were fuzzy, distorted, and even missing, but what I did remember was that it had been raining that day, the moisture was thick in the cool September air and the sun was playing peek-a-boo in the clouds. I remembered waiting for him. He had promised to meet me, that he had something to tell me. I remember sitting on our bench in the park, my coat pulled tight around me, and waiting.
I was still waiting when the sun went down, and when the rain began to pound harder. I remember being puzzled, and then worried, and then angry. And I remember realizing that he wasn't coming. So I went home.
I expected him to call. He never did. And I never saw him again. Until today.
"Can you forgive me Christina?"
I focused on him again. "I'm sorry John, but it doesn't work like that. You don't get to destroy someones life and then get to waltz back in as if nothing had ever happened."
"Chris..."
"It's Christina!" I almost shouted. "Chris stopped existing a long time ago. She stopped existing the day you left," I finished quietly, barely more than a whisper. I could feel the tears beginning to pool, but I would never let him see them.
"I'm sorry John, but there are no second chances," I said as I slowly closed the door on my past.
(sorry this one ran a little long, but I rather liked the way that it was turning out.)
The knock sounded again on the pale oak of the front door.
"Yes? How can I..." My words died on my lips as my eyes fell on the man standing on my doorstep. A man I hadn't seen in four years.
"John," I whispered in shock.
"Hello Chris," he said, his mouth pulling into a crooked smile. A smile that I knew as well as if it were my own.
I was too stunned to even respond. A thousand memories and feelings connected to that smile stampeded across my mind.
"Chris?"
It was almost as if I heard him from a distance, his voice faint, an undercurrent to the rush of blood in my ears. "Chris? Are you alright?" he asked when I didn't move.
I jumped like I had been electrocuted when I felt his fingers brush my arm in concern.
My eyes once again focused on what was in front of me, "What are you doing here John?" I took a step back so that I was firmly out of reach. I didn't know how he had found me or even why he was here.
"I wanted to talk to you," he said as he folded his arms across his body, as if to keep his hands to himself.
"So talk."
"Chris, I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry," he began.
"It's Christina," I interrupted him, "please don't call me Chris. Nobody calls me Chris anymore."
'Nobody since you,' I thought to myself.
"Okay, Christina," he almost stumbled over my full name, "I wanted to tell you that I was sorry, that I was completely in the wrong..."
His voice faded into the background again as the memories of that night so many years ago played across my mind.
********
Most of the memories of that day were fuzzy, distorted, and even missing, but what I did remember was that it had been raining that day, the moisture was thick in the cool September air and the sun was playing peek-a-boo in the clouds. I remembered waiting for him. He had promised to meet me, that he had something to tell me. I remember sitting on our bench in the park, my coat pulled tight around me, and waiting.
I was still waiting when the sun went down, and when the rain began to pound harder. I remember being puzzled, and then worried, and then angry. And I remember realizing that he wasn't coming. So I went home.
I expected him to call. He never did. And I never saw him again. Until today.
"Can you forgive me Christina?"
I focused on him again. "I'm sorry John, but it doesn't work like that. You don't get to destroy someones life and then get to waltz back in as if nothing had ever happened."
"Chris..."
"It's Christina!" I almost shouted. "Chris stopped existing a long time ago. She stopped existing the day you left," I finished quietly, barely more than a whisper. I could feel the tears beginning to pool, but I would never let him see them.
"I'm sorry John, but there are no second chances," I said as I slowly closed the door on my past.
(sorry this one ran a little long, but I rather liked the way that it was turning out.)
If You Ever Come Back - The Script
Tobias opened the door at the top of the stairwell and paused. The hallway light over James’s door was on, a bright beacon to welcome a weary traveler home. At three a.m., Tobias had it on good authority that James wasn’t expecting anyone home. Unannounced visits were usually the best way to assess James’s condition, and Tobias was without peer when it came to dropping by unannounced. He prowled down the hallway toward the door, footsteps silent. The door to James’s flat was ajar, and - there, Tobias could see a gleam of metal. The door had been left on the latch.
Tobias nudged the welcome mat aside with the toe of his sneaker and glimpsed more metal - the spare key.
James was asking for a home invasion.
Tobias palmed the knife from the small of his back and eased the door open. The bedroom and bathroom were dark, but there was light from the kitchen. Tobias headed for the kitchen, still moving silently, ready for whatever criminal disaster James had got himself into. Tobias pressed himself against the wall next to the kitchen door, ready to kick it down and dispatch with any would-be kidnappers or murderers. He slid a hand toward the doorknob and –
“Asia, is that you?”
Tobias flinched at her name.
James tugged open the kitchen door. “Asia?”
“No, it’s me.” Tobias slid his knife back into its sheath and straightened up.
James’s bright smile dimmed, but only for a moment. “Oh, hey Tobias. What brings you to London?”
“DJ had a runway show.” Tobias smiled cautiously. “I thought I’d stop by and say hello. I didn’t think you’d be awake, but the front door was open –”
“I’ve been a night owl as of late.” James beckoned. “Come on in – I have the kettle on.”
Tobias followed James into the kitchen and saw that it was just as quirky as Asia had kept it, with jars of herbs and spices lining the window sills and ledges in perfect alphabetical order. There were two places set at the bar, but it looked like only one had been used for a meal.
“Were you expecting someone?” Tobias asked. “If I’m interrupting, I can go.”
James shook his head, shrugged. “I wasn’t expecting anyone, exactly.”
Tobias heard hesitation in James’s voice. “But...?” he prompted.
“In case Asia ever comes back,” James said. “Thought I’d leave things how she likes them.”
Tobias opened his mouth to tell James, for the thousandth time, that Asia was dead (and she wasn’t, not really, but she was dead for James, and he had to face that reality sooner or later). But Tobias remembered waking up and realizing he’d never look into her eyes again, and he smiled at James, more brightly this time, and said,
“How about a cuppa, then?”
(467 Words)
(click on the title to hear the song)
Tobias nudged the welcome mat aside with the toe of his sneaker and glimpsed more metal - the spare key.
James was asking for a home invasion.
Tobias palmed the knife from the small of his back and eased the door open. The bedroom and bathroom were dark, but there was light from the kitchen. Tobias headed for the kitchen, still moving silently, ready for whatever criminal disaster James had got himself into. Tobias pressed himself against the wall next to the kitchen door, ready to kick it down and dispatch with any would-be kidnappers or murderers. He slid a hand toward the doorknob and –
“Asia, is that you?”
Tobias flinched at her name.
James tugged open the kitchen door. “Asia?”
“No, it’s me.” Tobias slid his knife back into its sheath and straightened up.
James’s bright smile dimmed, but only for a moment. “Oh, hey Tobias. What brings you to London?”
“DJ had a runway show.” Tobias smiled cautiously. “I thought I’d stop by and say hello. I didn’t think you’d be awake, but the front door was open –”
“I’ve been a night owl as of late.” James beckoned. “Come on in – I have the kettle on.”
Tobias followed James into the kitchen and saw that it was just as quirky as Asia had kept it, with jars of herbs and spices lining the window sills and ledges in perfect alphabetical order. There were two places set at the bar, but it looked like only one had been used for a meal.
“Were you expecting someone?” Tobias asked. “If I’m interrupting, I can go.”
James shook his head, shrugged. “I wasn’t expecting anyone, exactly.”
Tobias heard hesitation in James’s voice. “But...?” he prompted.
“In case Asia ever comes back,” James said. “Thought I’d leave things how she likes them.”
Tobias opened his mouth to tell James, for the thousandth time, that Asia was dead (and she wasn’t, not really, but she was dead for James, and he had to face that reality sooner or later). But Tobias remembered waking up and realizing he’d never look into her eyes again, and he smiled at James, more brightly this time, and said,
“How about a cuppa, then?”
(467 Words)
(click on the title to hear the song)
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Project # - 78 Song Fic
I love this challenge since there are so many things that can be inspired from a song.
So your task my fellow writers is to use one song every day to write your piece. It can be part of your writing or it can just inspire it. Either way post a link if you would to the song so that we can all get a feel for where the piece is coming from.
Lets set a 500 word limit
So your task my fellow writers is to use one song every day to write your piece. It can be part of your writing or it can just inspire it. Either way post a link if you would to the song so that we can all get a feel for where the piece is coming from.
Lets set a 500 word limit
Overview #77 - New Character
This week I fell a little behind, but I created a few characters that I'm a little proud of and who might be fun to play with in the future.
Many thanks to my fellow writers for the constructive feedback and suggestions for improvement. AS always Nagi thank you for being my grammar police. It really does help me. I think the long time in between writing really made me rusty again and the things that I was starting to get a grasp on sort of slipped away.
Many thanks to my fellow writers for the constructive feedback and suggestions for improvement. AS always Nagi thank you for being my grammar police. It really does help me. I think the long time in between writing really made me rusty again and the things that I was starting to get a grasp on sort of slipped away.
Overview #77: New Characters in 100 (redux)
First of all...\o/ Yay! We're back! We've made it through a full week of the game, we have new players, and it looks like we're getting back on our feet. This makes me decidedly excited, and I'm hoping we stay in the loop and pick up the pace so that by the end of this year we will all be noticeably better writers.
So...this week I kind of cheated. A little. Instead of cooking up all new characters I went back and resurrected characters from a 'verse I worked in briefly and gave them some more depth, studied them some more. I've always wanted to give urban fantasy a genuine shot, and I think this might be my chance. I got to know the characters better, fleshed them out some more, and then at the end I introduced two genuinely new characters to throw into the universe for good measure. I learned lots from my fellow writers as well, about how to balance physical description with temporal existence, personality, and small details. 100 words isn't a lot, but I learned that a good writer will make every word count.
Since I issued last week's challenge, it's my honor and privilege to pick the winner, and this week it is...
XYLAS!
That's right. You won. Because you wrote well, and best of all, you left really great constructive feedback. So...request your prize!
For a refresher on how prizes work, check here.
So...this week I kind of cheated. A little. Instead of cooking up all new characters I went back and resurrected characters from a 'verse I worked in briefly and gave them some more depth, studied them some more. I've always wanted to give urban fantasy a genuine shot, and I think this might be my chance. I got to know the characters better, fleshed them out some more, and then at the end I introduced two genuinely new characters to throw into the universe for good measure. I learned lots from my fellow writers as well, about how to balance physical description with temporal existence, personality, and small details. 100 words isn't a lot, but I learned that a good writer will make every word count.
Since I issued last week's challenge, it's my honor and privilege to pick the winner, and this week it is...
XYLAS!
That's right. You won. Because you wrote well, and best of all, you left really great constructive feedback. So...request your prize!
For a refresher on how prizes work, check here.
Pill
The pills were sitting all in one row, giggling behind their hands whenever he stumbled over a word, which was more frequent the more they giggled. If they thought being a teacher was easy, they could stand up and do it themselves, but chances were they would just twirl their hair around their fingers and everyone would eat it up.
So he pushed his glasses higher up on his nose, took a deep breath, and started in on quantum mechanics again. Later, he would remember they were only ten, and he would headdesk in the teacher’s lounge.
So he pushed his glasses higher up on his nose, took a deep breath, and started in on quantum mechanics again. Later, he would remember they were only ten, and he would headdesk in the teacher’s lounge.
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