OOC: I often find myself inspired to write little bits of things which seem like they would be good as parts of greater things, but rarely does anything develop around these 'scenes' so they just sit, alone and unconnected to anything real. Well I think thats just a shame even these fragmented dreams deserve their fifteen minutes of fame, and here they shall recieve that which they have coming to them, from the masses of Evernight and Writers Corner.
These all subjected to be updated or edited at any time, so if by any chance you actually become intereted in one check on the last updated date every once in a while.
Here is a link to the OOC commentary thread for this: http://www.evernight.com/boards/canon/v ... php?t=1293
EDIT: Curses wrong alt.
Fragmented Dreams
5 posts
• Page 1 of 1
Fragmented Dreams
by Drawde » Wed Nov 13, 2002 3:33 pm
Last edited by Anonymous on Wed Nov 13, 2002 7:40 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Drawde
Blind Magician
Adviser to Philemon
Blind Magician
Adviser to Philemon
-
Drawde - Stablehand
- Posts: 14
- Joined: Sun Nov 03, 2002 6:38 pm
by Mantella » Wed Nov 13, 2002 4:03 pm
OOC:
Title: Then The Rains Came
Originally written: April 12, 2002
Last Updated: November 13, 2002
This was originally written as the beginning (or is it end) of a story that I was writing backward, but it didn't develop too far, and most of the rest of it I didn't like to much (although there may be a few other parts that I'll put up here.)
And then the rains came. He stood in the deserted and darkened parking lot as the cool water fell from the sky. It fell hard and fast, quite a storm indeed. The water washed away the blood, and it washed away the tears. Just like time would wash away the wounds which caused the blood, and wash away the thoughts which caused the tears. But memories of the wounds and of the thoughts would not wash away, but instead they stayed, and weighed down his mind, just like the water weighed down his cloths. He stood there for several minutes, frozen in time, freezing in the rain. Eventually he began to walk for there was no reason to stay, all that would wash away had washed away. His steps were slow, as if he were taking his time to watch the water of the puddles rippled around his boots. But he began to speed up, as if the ripples were beginning to loose their novelty. Eventually he broke into a run, running from what? From the rain? Why run from the rain when you're already wet? Will it wash away things you don't want to wash away? Perhaps it would, time certainly would. But you can't run from time. Can you run from the rain? Was he running from something else? Or was he just running?
What ever his reason he stopped when he at last reached his car, the only car in the lot. It's windows were open and the interior soaked, and the keys were in the ignition. He got in the car, and turned the keys, and the engine roared into action. He started to drive. He left the windows down.
Title: Then The Rains Came
Originally written: April 12, 2002
Last Updated: November 13, 2002
This was originally written as the beginning (or is it end) of a story that I was writing backward, but it didn't develop too far, and most of the rest of it I didn't like to much (although there may be a few other parts that I'll put up here.)
And then the rains came. He stood in the deserted and darkened parking lot as the cool water fell from the sky. It fell hard and fast, quite a storm indeed. The water washed away the blood, and it washed away the tears. Just like time would wash away the wounds which caused the blood, and wash away the thoughts which caused the tears. But memories of the wounds and of the thoughts would not wash away, but instead they stayed, and weighed down his mind, just like the water weighed down his cloths. He stood there for several minutes, frozen in time, freezing in the rain. Eventually he began to walk for there was no reason to stay, all that would wash away had washed away. His steps were slow, as if he were taking his time to watch the water of the puddles rippled around his boots. But he began to speed up, as if the ripples were beginning to loose their novelty. Eventually he broke into a run, running from what? From the rain? Why run from the rain when you're already wet? Will it wash away things you don't want to wash away? Perhaps it would, time certainly would. But you can't run from time. Can you run from the rain? Was he running from something else? Or was he just running?
What ever his reason he stopped when he at last reached his car, the only car in the lot. It's windows were open and the interior soaked, and the keys were in the ignition. He got in the car, and turned the keys, and the engine roared into action. He started to drive. He left the windows down.
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Mantella - Stablehand
- Posts: 83
- Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
by Mantella » Wed Nov 13, 2002 4:36 pm
OOC:
Title: Lead Forget-me-nots
Originally written: November 12, 2002
Last updated: November 13, 2002
This one was never a part of anything else, and I never really intended it to be, I was just inspired one night, and jotted it down. Just a little story-llet I guess.
My eyes flittered open, and I found myself unable to move my arms and legs, they were bound by something. As I slowly began to regain my wits, I discovered that what restrained me was simple rope, and what it held me to was a simple chair. I also discovered that I was no longer in the Walmart parking lot walking towards my car, where I last recalled being, but was instead sitting in a dimly lit garage. It was Rodger's garage. And not all to surprisingly, there, just a few feet before me, was Rodger. Rodger and I were good friends, although as of late we had tun into some rough terrain in our friendship due to some problems, which, like most problems between men, had to do with a woman. Judging by the situation I found myself in the problems between us were worse than I thought.
As he noticed I had come to he began to speak, or perhaps he had noticed before and simply remained silent for dramatic effect, regardless he spoke now.
"You stole her from me!"
I did not respond, it was apparent that he was mad, in both senses of the word.
"She is mine, and I lover her, and I won't stand for you trying to steal her from me..." he paused. "But, if she does really love you, and not me, then I won't interfere with that." He paused again, letting his words sink in. "But how to tell if she loves me or not?"
I didn't answer.
"Perhaps I would use forget-me-nots, you know, those little blue flowers, where you pluck the petals, and count of 'she loves me', ' she loves me not.' They've always worked for me in the past, when I was little that is."
His speech had become quite fanatical, it made me worry about what he planned to do, and I would soon discover my worry was justified.
"Regrettably I don't think they'll work for this situation, the effects are far to intangible you know. So I've devised a similar method, quite clever of me if I do say so myself."
It was then that he produced, from a drawer of his tool cabinet, a revolver and one lone bullet. He popped the cylinder out, slid the bullet into one of the chambers, and the snapped it back into the gun. He spun the cylinder
"I'm not going to explain the process, because I think you'll catch on once I get started."
"She loves me," he pointed the gun at my chest, and pulled the trigger. Click. He spun the cylinder again.
"She loves me not," He pointed the gun at his own head, and pulled the trigger. Click. He spun the cylinder again.
"She loves me," I found myself once again facing down the barrel. The end of it a black abyss which I feared would swallow up my life. Click.
"She loves me not," Once again to his own head. Click.
And so it continued.
"She loves me." Click.
"She loves me not." Click.
"She loves me." Click.
"She loves me not." Click.
"She loves me." Click.
"She loves me not." But this time there was no comforting click. simply an ear shattering bang which echoed through the garage. His body seemed to remain standing, frozen in time for several seconds before slumping to the ground with a thud, and the gun clattered on the hard floor.
And so it was over, she loved him not.
Title: Lead Forget-me-nots
Originally written: November 12, 2002
Last updated: November 13, 2002
This one was never a part of anything else, and I never really intended it to be, I was just inspired one night, and jotted it down. Just a little story-llet I guess.
My eyes flittered open, and I found myself unable to move my arms and legs, they were bound by something. As I slowly began to regain my wits, I discovered that what restrained me was simple rope, and what it held me to was a simple chair. I also discovered that I was no longer in the Walmart parking lot walking towards my car, where I last recalled being, but was instead sitting in a dimly lit garage. It was Rodger's garage. And not all to surprisingly, there, just a few feet before me, was Rodger. Rodger and I were good friends, although as of late we had tun into some rough terrain in our friendship due to some problems, which, like most problems between men, had to do with a woman. Judging by the situation I found myself in the problems between us were worse than I thought.
As he noticed I had come to he began to speak, or perhaps he had noticed before and simply remained silent for dramatic effect, regardless he spoke now.
"You stole her from me!"
I did not respond, it was apparent that he was mad, in both senses of the word.
"She is mine, and I lover her, and I won't stand for you trying to steal her from me..." he paused. "But, if she does really love you, and not me, then I won't interfere with that." He paused again, letting his words sink in. "But how to tell if she loves me or not?"
I didn't answer.
"Perhaps I would use forget-me-nots, you know, those little blue flowers, where you pluck the petals, and count of 'she loves me', ' she loves me not.' They've always worked for me in the past, when I was little that is."
His speech had become quite fanatical, it made me worry about what he planned to do, and I would soon discover my worry was justified.
"Regrettably I don't think they'll work for this situation, the effects are far to intangible you know. So I've devised a similar method, quite clever of me if I do say so myself."
It was then that he produced, from a drawer of his tool cabinet, a revolver and one lone bullet. He popped the cylinder out, slid the bullet into one of the chambers, and the snapped it back into the gun. He spun the cylinder
"I'm not going to explain the process, because I think you'll catch on once I get started."
"She loves me," he pointed the gun at my chest, and pulled the trigger. Click. He spun the cylinder again.
"She loves me not," He pointed the gun at his own head, and pulled the trigger. Click. He spun the cylinder again.
"She loves me," I found myself once again facing down the barrel. The end of it a black abyss which I feared would swallow up my life. Click.
"She loves me not," Once again to his own head. Click.
And so it continued.
"She loves me." Click.
"She loves me not." Click.
"She loves me." Click.
"She loves me not." Click.
"She loves me." Click.
"She loves me not." But this time there was no comforting click. simply an ear shattering bang which echoed through the garage. His body seemed to remain standing, frozen in time for several seconds before slumping to the ground with a thud, and the gun clattered on the hard floor.
And so it was over, she loved him not.
-
Mantella - Stablehand
- Posts: 83
- Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
by Mantella » Mon Dec 16, 2002 2:41 pm
I've desided to continue working on "Then The Rains Came" so first of all, here is all the rest of it which has already been writen. I'd like to make point that it was not all writen by myself. The parts written from Enid's point of view are by friend (know on these boards as jojo the magic sheep)
And then the rains came. He stood in the deserted and darkened parking lot as the cool water fell from the sky. It fell hard and fast, quite a storm indeed. The water washed away the blood, and it washed away the tears. Just like time would wash away the wounds which caused the blood, and wash away the thoughts which caused the tears. But memories of the wounds and of the thoughts would not wash away, but instead they stayed, and weighed down his mind, just like the water weighed down his cloths. He stood there for several minutes, frozen in time, freezing in the rain. Eventually he began to walk for there was not reason to stay, all that would wash away had washed away. His steps were slow, as if he were taking his time to watch the water of the puddles rippled around his boots. But they began to speed up, as if the ripples were beginning to loose their novelty. Eventually he broke into a run, running from what? From the rain? Why run from the rain when you're already wet? Will it wash away things you don't want to wash away? Perhaps it would, time certainly would. But you can't run from time. Can you run from the rain? Was he running from something else? Or was he just running?
Whatever his reason he stopped when he at last reached his car, the only car in the lot. Its windows were open and the interior soaked, and the keys were in the ignition. He got in the car, and turned the keys, and the engine roared into action. He started to drive. He left the windows down.
~
Enid slammed the door to her apartment and stood with her back on it. She stayed there in the dark for a moment, then, with a sound that might have almost broken glass, let out a profoundly painful scream.
"BASTARD!"
Then she sunk to the floor, both physically and in spirit, and began to sob. She was soaked with rain, and still held her car keys in her right hand.
"How could he do that? How?"
She began to lift her arms to her face, to cradle it, when she stopped. Her eyes focused on her left hand, and a new wave of tears rushed forth from them. Because on that hand, partially, but not all the way washed off, was blood. Someone else's blood.
"Bastard! You're a bastard, Eddie, bastard..."
And there her voice was replaced with the tears. She curled into a fetal position and there lay, covering her head in her half-bloodied hands.
~
She swung the keys. The blow landed heard on the side of his face, braking skin. He turned to face her again, his hand held to the side of his face, shocked. It was because of the shock that he didn’t see the second swing coming. It hit the other side of his face, and sent him staggering, he lost his balance and fell to the pavement, catching himself with his arms, leaving them bloodied. Before he could get up from the ground she came after him again. He put up his roadrashed arm to stop her. But she grabbed hold of it and moved it aside as she struck him once more with her keys. He was stronger than her, but far to confused to actually stop her. She finally stopped the brutal assault and stood back up, speaking down to him.
“I can’t believe you would do something like that! You bastard!”
And so with those final words she turned and hurried off to her car, and drove away. As she left he returned to his feet, wondering what had just happened. He started to cry, perhaps because of the pain, perhaps because of what she had stead, although he didn’t know what most of what she said was supposed to mean. How could she even think he would do anything like that, she knew him better than that, well perhaps she didn’t know him better than that, but they had know each other for quite a while, so she certainly should have know. But there was little use thinking about it now, perhaps they would work it out tomorrow, although he couldn’t really see himself talking to her anytime soon after that. And so he stood there in the parking lot for several minutes still rather dazed. And then the rains came.
~
The uncertainties of her mind, and the thoughts against him were finally becoming too strong to be held in. She looked at him as they walked out into the parking lot. The last cars were finally leaving their spaces and their drivers returning home. The sky was darkening. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
"James can talk, can't he?" she said, examining his facial expression.
He shrugged. "I suppose so."
"It's a pity about Mr. Lawrence, isn't it, Eddie?"
Again, there was a minimal, apathetic response. It was the last puzzle piece, that fit everything into place for her: her suspicions were confirmed. She nodded.
"And yet, you don't seem to care, do you?"
"Well the boss and I weren't exactly best friends, especially as of late."
"Not exactly." She stopped walking and looked at him earnestly. "I know you did it, Eddie."
"What?"
"Don't lie to me. You've been lying this whole time, haven't you? About the boss, about yourself... about us. Well, I've had it. I've had it for a very long time, Eddie. You have no idea how long I've been wanting to say this to you. I'm sorry, but I'll have to inform the police first thing after I get home." She reached for her car keys as she spoke and began to move past him. He took her arm.
"The police? What have I done? Enid!"
"Don't touch me!" she screamed, pulling away ferociously.
"You know me! I'm not a violent person, I..."
"Not a violent person?" she snarled. "Not a violent person? I'll show you 'not a violent person' for what you did to me, you bastard!"
And with that she lunged at him, keys held high in the air. With a battle cry that would have frightened the most weathered ancient warrior, she swung the keys.
~
He looked around the lobby of the large office building, people were begging to leave. The speeches had been made the condolences given and now the time was trickling away out of the all to busy lives of the people there, just as the water was trickling down the melting ice sculptures. Mr. Lawrence had apparently been a big fan of ice sculptures. But what a terrible waste of water those things were, and a waste of time to. The whole; memorial, get together, thing, had been a waste of time. Especially now since they had been stopped by James, a former coworker of his, who had also worked for Mr. Lawrence, had stopped them on their way out. “Enid… Edward… isn’t it just dreadful…”
He turned to face James, conversations with James were certainly ones one would do better to avoid.
“Yes, it’s terrible.” He tried to hide his impatience for he knew he would be stuck listening to James’ nasally voice for quite a while.
“And he was in the prime of his life too, things were going so well for him, he was about to get a promotion from cooperate headquarters too president of the state branch, he just got married, how horrible it must be for that poor woman now, to loose her husband so soon. And he was such a nice man too, always giving money to charities, and you know it was his idea to have casual Fridays. It’s just so awful I still can’t believe what happened to him. Oh… did you hear about what happened to him…”
He cut him off, “Yes… I’ve heard all about what happened.”
“Oh… well it’s just so terrible isn’t it.”
“James!” The shrill voice came from James’ wife who stood near the door of the lobby; she too was apparently growing impatient with her husband.
“Terrible sorry, but I really must be going.”
He sighed and shook his head as James left. Finally out of the undertow that was James they left, walking out into the parking lot.
“James can talk, can't he?"
~
Applause from the final speaker sent Eddie to be the first out of his seat. Enid watched him, lips pursed, but did not rise until a few more people were collecting their bags and coats and preparing to leave. She had been watching him all night, like a cat stalking a sparrow, waiting for it to make the right move so it could pounce. She considered herself a patient person, and indeed she had been patient for a long time now, ever since she had started to suspect. And now the whole thing had ended here, at this anticlimactic convention to honor the dead.
Eddie had begun to get lost in the crowd of people. He had already made his way out to the lobby, and was on his way out. She jogged as best she could in her heels, past the ice sculptures, to get to him.
"Just leave me behind!" she joked, letting the joke die quickly. He didn't say anything anyway, but appeared to be lost in thought. Tempraphobics tended to do that.
But she wasn't liking it. In fact, she was finally growing impatient with him. She had wanted answers, and he was giving them, but with silence and apathy instead of the definite verbal response she was seeking. Her embarrassment of being overdressed when the night began wasn't helping to ease her agitation, either. And she wanted to ask him, she was opening her mouth to speak when...
James, a coworker, who had also worked for Mr. Lawrence, stopped them on their way out. “Enid… Edward… isn’t it just dreadful…”
~
He sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair, paying only half his attention to the woman who stood at the podium at the front of the room. She had been Mr. Lawrence's secretary, and she was rabbling on, nearly in tears, about all the great things he had done, and what a great person he had been, and how good things had been going for him, and blah blah blah.
It was ridiculous though, Charles Lawrence had been nothing like that at all, it was all just a façade, a well-played façade that nearly everyone fell for. He had a dark side, and things certainly hadn't been going all good for him, that's why he was dead now. But odds were none of these people would ever know that, and even if they found out, would they believe it? They would just see them him that was masked by the shadow of lies.
Applause from the final speaker sent Eddie to be the first out of his seat.
~
Enid was only half paying attention to the speaker, who had been up there for what seemed like an hour; after all she was the finale to let everyone know what a great guy she thought Mr. Lawrence was. Enid had never thought him quite that fantastic, but she had never disliked him. He was just an average guy to her.
But what Enid was thinking about was not him personally, but how he had died. It had been nasty, and brutal. She shivered at the thought of finding his mangled body. It was a thought that she believed would never leave her. And of course, someone had to be blamed for that.
She kept glancing back at Eddie, to see what he was doing, or what he was thinking. He seemed somewhere else, as he sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair, paying only half his attention to the woman who stood at the podium at the front of the room.
~
Walking in through the doubledoors of the large room they took the first pair of open chairs they found. And from shortly after their taking of the seats it seemed that it was nothing but speaker after speaker up at the podium. They all seemed to say the same things. It was wearing on him, it was almost like the Chinese water torture, drip, drip, drip. Over and over and over. At last Mr. Lawrence's secretary took the podium, she would be the last took speak. Regrettable she took her time about it, not that she said anything new, it just seemed to be the same as all the rest, except with more words. He glanced over briefly. Enid was only half paying attention to the speaker, who had been up there for what seemed like an hour; after all she was the finale to let everyone know what a great guy she thought Mr. Lawrence was.
~
Enid took the key out of the ignition and opened her door, stepping out onto the pavement and into a puddle. "Dammit..." she muttered, shaking off her shoe and stepping as best she could over the puddle in her skirt and heels. She closed the door and looked up at the dark clouds coming from the west, illuminated by the setting sun. It would rain again tonight.
She turned around, back to the building, but now looking down at the asphalt. She would need to have a talk with Eddie tonight. He'd been so strange since Mr. Lawrence's accident. So removed, so morose, so...
"Eddie!"
She had almost run into him, and in her surprise had almost fallen backwards to avoid him. "You startled me."
He shrugged and muttered an apology and moved to the side to she could walk beside him, and together they entered the large conference hall. Immediately, Enid became self-conscious. Many were dressed as they would be for casual Friday, in khakis and sweaters and some even in jeans. A few stopped and stared as the pair entered, and Enid wondered if it was because of Eddie or because of her black skirt. Jenny Reed, the resident style expert, looked Enid up and down, then approached.
"Did you not get the memo?" she asked. "Casual dress."
Enid shook her head. "I never get the memos."
"Oh well," Jenny snickered, her words not halfway compassionate enough to mask her delight. "It happens to the best of us. I'm sure no one else will notice."
But everyone did seem to notice. Most didn't really care, though a few did roll their eyes or smirk and all at least took a glance before turning away.
Enid turned to her companion. "Let's just go sit down," she said, and walking in through the double doors of the large room they took the first pair of open chairs they found.
~
His car slid into an open spot in front of the large building. Cutting of the engine, he stared at the building through the windshield briefly before getting out of the car, absent-mindedly leaving his keys in the ignition, and the doors unlocked. He didn't want to be there. He didn't want to be reminded of so this place where he had so recently worked, had it been recently, he didn't want to think about that either, and certainly didn't want any reminders of Mr. Lawrence.
He walked slowly towards the building, paying little attention to anything. But his attention was suddenly caught.
"Eddie!"
He glanced over to the source, it was Enid, very near by.
"You startled me."
He shrugged and muttered an apology and moved to the side to she could walk beside him, and together they entered the large conference hall.
Shortly after entering the hall they were approached by Jenny Reed, he had never liked her. She commented on Enid's cloths, the sort of thing she often did, questioning the recival of a memo. He too had not received the memorandum, then again, those who were no longer employees rarely did. He was dressed casually none the less.
Enid turned to him. "Let's go sit down." He nodded. Walking in through the double doors of the large room they took the first pair of open chairs they found.
~
He hung up the phone, and walked out of his small apartment in the middle of the city. He hated living there, and had been considering buying a house, his recent lay off had nixed those plans.
Down twelve flights of stairs, and out the front doors, he made his way to his car. He pulled out of the apartment buildings small parking lot onto the street.
The radiostation he had on cut to a news brake, normally he would have switched the channel, but this time he just ignored, until the weather report caught his attention. "We can expect rain later this afternoon, and its about time."
He looked out the windshild up towards the sky, not a cloud in sight. Rain didn't seem likely, and that suited him fine, he had never been particularly fond of the rain, despite the fact that the area was in desperate need of it.
It was a short drive, and the traffic wasn't very bad so it wasn't long at all before he arrived. His car slid into an open spot in front of the large building.
And then the rains came. He stood in the deserted and darkened parking lot as the cool water fell from the sky. It fell hard and fast, quite a storm indeed. The water washed away the blood, and it washed away the tears. Just like time would wash away the wounds which caused the blood, and wash away the thoughts which caused the tears. But memories of the wounds and of the thoughts would not wash away, but instead they stayed, and weighed down his mind, just like the water weighed down his cloths. He stood there for several minutes, frozen in time, freezing in the rain. Eventually he began to walk for there was not reason to stay, all that would wash away had washed away. His steps were slow, as if he were taking his time to watch the water of the puddles rippled around his boots. But they began to speed up, as if the ripples were beginning to loose their novelty. Eventually he broke into a run, running from what? From the rain? Why run from the rain when you're already wet? Will it wash away things you don't want to wash away? Perhaps it would, time certainly would. But you can't run from time. Can you run from the rain? Was he running from something else? Or was he just running?
Whatever his reason he stopped when he at last reached his car, the only car in the lot. Its windows were open and the interior soaked, and the keys were in the ignition. He got in the car, and turned the keys, and the engine roared into action. He started to drive. He left the windows down.
~
Enid slammed the door to her apartment and stood with her back on it. She stayed there in the dark for a moment, then, with a sound that might have almost broken glass, let out a profoundly painful scream.
"BASTARD!"
Then she sunk to the floor, both physically and in spirit, and began to sob. She was soaked with rain, and still held her car keys in her right hand.
"How could he do that? How?"
She began to lift her arms to her face, to cradle it, when she stopped. Her eyes focused on her left hand, and a new wave of tears rushed forth from them. Because on that hand, partially, but not all the way washed off, was blood. Someone else's blood.
"Bastard! You're a bastard, Eddie, bastard..."
And there her voice was replaced with the tears. She curled into a fetal position and there lay, covering her head in her half-bloodied hands.
~
She swung the keys. The blow landed heard on the side of his face, braking skin. He turned to face her again, his hand held to the side of his face, shocked. It was because of the shock that he didn’t see the second swing coming. It hit the other side of his face, and sent him staggering, he lost his balance and fell to the pavement, catching himself with his arms, leaving them bloodied. Before he could get up from the ground she came after him again. He put up his roadrashed arm to stop her. But she grabbed hold of it and moved it aside as she struck him once more with her keys. He was stronger than her, but far to confused to actually stop her. She finally stopped the brutal assault and stood back up, speaking down to him.
“I can’t believe you would do something like that! You bastard!”
And so with those final words she turned and hurried off to her car, and drove away. As she left he returned to his feet, wondering what had just happened. He started to cry, perhaps because of the pain, perhaps because of what she had stead, although he didn’t know what most of what she said was supposed to mean. How could she even think he would do anything like that, she knew him better than that, well perhaps she didn’t know him better than that, but they had know each other for quite a while, so she certainly should have know. But there was little use thinking about it now, perhaps they would work it out tomorrow, although he couldn’t really see himself talking to her anytime soon after that. And so he stood there in the parking lot for several minutes still rather dazed. And then the rains came.
~
The uncertainties of her mind, and the thoughts against him were finally becoming too strong to be held in. She looked at him as they walked out into the parking lot. The last cars were finally leaving their spaces and their drivers returning home. The sky was darkening. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
"James can talk, can't he?" she said, examining his facial expression.
He shrugged. "I suppose so."
"It's a pity about Mr. Lawrence, isn't it, Eddie?"
Again, there was a minimal, apathetic response. It was the last puzzle piece, that fit everything into place for her: her suspicions were confirmed. She nodded.
"And yet, you don't seem to care, do you?"
"Well the boss and I weren't exactly best friends, especially as of late."
"Not exactly." She stopped walking and looked at him earnestly. "I know you did it, Eddie."
"What?"
"Don't lie to me. You've been lying this whole time, haven't you? About the boss, about yourself... about us. Well, I've had it. I've had it for a very long time, Eddie. You have no idea how long I've been wanting to say this to you. I'm sorry, but I'll have to inform the police first thing after I get home." She reached for her car keys as she spoke and began to move past him. He took her arm.
"The police? What have I done? Enid!"
"Don't touch me!" she screamed, pulling away ferociously.
"You know me! I'm not a violent person, I..."
"Not a violent person?" she snarled. "Not a violent person? I'll show you 'not a violent person' for what you did to me, you bastard!"
And with that she lunged at him, keys held high in the air. With a battle cry that would have frightened the most weathered ancient warrior, she swung the keys.
~
He looked around the lobby of the large office building, people were begging to leave. The speeches had been made the condolences given and now the time was trickling away out of the all to busy lives of the people there, just as the water was trickling down the melting ice sculptures. Mr. Lawrence had apparently been a big fan of ice sculptures. But what a terrible waste of water those things were, and a waste of time to. The whole; memorial, get together, thing, had been a waste of time. Especially now since they had been stopped by James, a former coworker of his, who had also worked for Mr. Lawrence, had stopped them on their way out. “Enid… Edward… isn’t it just dreadful…”
He turned to face James, conversations with James were certainly ones one would do better to avoid.
“Yes, it’s terrible.” He tried to hide his impatience for he knew he would be stuck listening to James’ nasally voice for quite a while.
“And he was in the prime of his life too, things were going so well for him, he was about to get a promotion from cooperate headquarters too president of the state branch, he just got married, how horrible it must be for that poor woman now, to loose her husband so soon. And he was such a nice man too, always giving money to charities, and you know it was his idea to have casual Fridays. It’s just so awful I still can’t believe what happened to him. Oh… did you hear about what happened to him…”
He cut him off, “Yes… I’ve heard all about what happened.”
“Oh… well it’s just so terrible isn’t it.”
“James!” The shrill voice came from James’ wife who stood near the door of the lobby; she too was apparently growing impatient with her husband.
“Terrible sorry, but I really must be going.”
He sighed and shook his head as James left. Finally out of the undertow that was James they left, walking out into the parking lot.
“James can talk, can't he?"
~
Applause from the final speaker sent Eddie to be the first out of his seat. Enid watched him, lips pursed, but did not rise until a few more people were collecting their bags and coats and preparing to leave. She had been watching him all night, like a cat stalking a sparrow, waiting for it to make the right move so it could pounce. She considered herself a patient person, and indeed she had been patient for a long time now, ever since she had started to suspect. And now the whole thing had ended here, at this anticlimactic convention to honor the dead.
Eddie had begun to get lost in the crowd of people. He had already made his way out to the lobby, and was on his way out. She jogged as best she could in her heels, past the ice sculptures, to get to him.
"Just leave me behind!" she joked, letting the joke die quickly. He didn't say anything anyway, but appeared to be lost in thought. Tempraphobics tended to do that.
But she wasn't liking it. In fact, she was finally growing impatient with him. She had wanted answers, and he was giving them, but with silence and apathy instead of the definite verbal response she was seeking. Her embarrassment of being overdressed when the night began wasn't helping to ease her agitation, either. And she wanted to ask him, she was opening her mouth to speak when...
James, a coworker, who had also worked for Mr. Lawrence, stopped them on their way out. “Enid… Edward… isn’t it just dreadful…”
~
He sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair, paying only half his attention to the woman who stood at the podium at the front of the room. She had been Mr. Lawrence's secretary, and she was rabbling on, nearly in tears, about all the great things he had done, and what a great person he had been, and how good things had been going for him, and blah blah blah.
It was ridiculous though, Charles Lawrence had been nothing like that at all, it was all just a façade, a well-played façade that nearly everyone fell for. He had a dark side, and things certainly hadn't been going all good for him, that's why he was dead now. But odds were none of these people would ever know that, and even if they found out, would they believe it? They would just see them him that was masked by the shadow of lies.
Applause from the final speaker sent Eddie to be the first out of his seat.
~
Enid was only half paying attention to the speaker, who had been up there for what seemed like an hour; after all she was the finale to let everyone know what a great guy she thought Mr. Lawrence was. Enid had never thought him quite that fantastic, but she had never disliked him. He was just an average guy to her.
But what Enid was thinking about was not him personally, but how he had died. It had been nasty, and brutal. She shivered at the thought of finding his mangled body. It was a thought that she believed would never leave her. And of course, someone had to be blamed for that.
She kept glancing back at Eddie, to see what he was doing, or what he was thinking. He seemed somewhere else, as he sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair, paying only half his attention to the woman who stood at the podium at the front of the room.
~
Walking in through the doubledoors of the large room they took the first pair of open chairs they found. And from shortly after their taking of the seats it seemed that it was nothing but speaker after speaker up at the podium. They all seemed to say the same things. It was wearing on him, it was almost like the Chinese water torture, drip, drip, drip. Over and over and over. At last Mr. Lawrence's secretary took the podium, she would be the last took speak. Regrettable she took her time about it, not that she said anything new, it just seemed to be the same as all the rest, except with more words. He glanced over briefly. Enid was only half paying attention to the speaker, who had been up there for what seemed like an hour; after all she was the finale to let everyone know what a great guy she thought Mr. Lawrence was.
~
Enid took the key out of the ignition and opened her door, stepping out onto the pavement and into a puddle. "Dammit..." she muttered, shaking off her shoe and stepping as best she could over the puddle in her skirt and heels. She closed the door and looked up at the dark clouds coming from the west, illuminated by the setting sun. It would rain again tonight.
She turned around, back to the building, but now looking down at the asphalt. She would need to have a talk with Eddie tonight. He'd been so strange since Mr. Lawrence's accident. So removed, so morose, so...
"Eddie!"
She had almost run into him, and in her surprise had almost fallen backwards to avoid him. "You startled me."
He shrugged and muttered an apology and moved to the side to she could walk beside him, and together they entered the large conference hall. Immediately, Enid became self-conscious. Many were dressed as they would be for casual Friday, in khakis and sweaters and some even in jeans. A few stopped and stared as the pair entered, and Enid wondered if it was because of Eddie or because of her black skirt. Jenny Reed, the resident style expert, looked Enid up and down, then approached.
"Did you not get the memo?" she asked. "Casual dress."
Enid shook her head. "I never get the memos."
"Oh well," Jenny snickered, her words not halfway compassionate enough to mask her delight. "It happens to the best of us. I'm sure no one else will notice."
But everyone did seem to notice. Most didn't really care, though a few did roll their eyes or smirk and all at least took a glance before turning away.
Enid turned to her companion. "Let's just go sit down," she said, and walking in through the double doors of the large room they took the first pair of open chairs they found.
~
His car slid into an open spot in front of the large building. Cutting of the engine, he stared at the building through the windshield briefly before getting out of the car, absent-mindedly leaving his keys in the ignition, and the doors unlocked. He didn't want to be there. He didn't want to be reminded of so this place where he had so recently worked, had it been recently, he didn't want to think about that either, and certainly didn't want any reminders of Mr. Lawrence.
He walked slowly towards the building, paying little attention to anything. But his attention was suddenly caught.
"Eddie!"
He glanced over to the source, it was Enid, very near by.
"You startled me."
He shrugged and muttered an apology and moved to the side to she could walk beside him, and together they entered the large conference hall.
Shortly after entering the hall they were approached by Jenny Reed, he had never liked her. She commented on Enid's cloths, the sort of thing she often did, questioning the recival of a memo. He too had not received the memorandum, then again, those who were no longer employees rarely did. He was dressed casually none the less.
Enid turned to him. "Let's go sit down." He nodded. Walking in through the double doors of the large room they took the first pair of open chairs they found.
~
He hung up the phone, and walked out of his small apartment in the middle of the city. He hated living there, and had been considering buying a house, his recent lay off had nixed those plans.
Down twelve flights of stairs, and out the front doors, he made his way to his car. He pulled out of the apartment buildings small parking lot onto the street.
The radiostation he had on cut to a news brake, normally he would have switched the channel, but this time he just ignored, until the weather report caught his attention. "We can expect rain later this afternoon, and its about time."
He looked out the windshild up towards the sky, not a cloud in sight. Rain didn't seem likely, and that suited him fine, he had never been particularly fond of the rain, despite the fact that the area was in desperate need of it.
It was a short drive, and the traffic wasn't very bad so it wasn't long at all before he arrived. His car slid into an open spot in front of the large building.
-
Mantella - Stablehand
- Posts: 83
- Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
by Mantella » Fri Dec 20, 2002 1:55 pm
Title: Never Again
Originally written: December 20, 2002
This one is a little piece of history for on of my RP characters
He sat at a table in the bar, alone. Trying to drown his troubles away. But that never works.
How could he have been so stupid? No, that wasn't it. He hadn't been stupid at all. He had done just what he should have. She was the one who had been stupid, and now he was the one paying for it. She might one day realize her mistake but likely it would be far to late, so what good would that do him.
He never should have let it happen.
The blue eyed man burst up to his feet with a ferocious yell, toppling the table at which he had sat. Breathing heavily he through down several other tables, quite certainly upsetting many of other patrons, but none would act to stop him. And then he stopped, just as suddenly as he had began. He stood their for a while not moving, before reaching down to pick up his hat. Placing it atop his head, and tilting its brim down over his eyes, he calmly walked out of the bar.
He never should have let it happen, and he would not let it happen again.
Originally written: December 20, 2002
This one is a little piece of history for on of my RP characters
He sat at a table in the bar, alone. Trying to drown his troubles away. But that never works.
How could he have been so stupid? No, that wasn't it. He hadn't been stupid at all. He had done just what he should have. She was the one who had been stupid, and now he was the one paying for it. She might one day realize her mistake but likely it would be far to late, so what good would that do him.
He never should have let it happen.
The blue eyed man burst up to his feet with a ferocious yell, toppling the table at which he had sat. Breathing heavily he through down several other tables, quite certainly upsetting many of other patrons, but none would act to stop him. And then he stopped, just as suddenly as he had began. He stood their for a while not moving, before reaching down to pick up his hat. Placing it atop his head, and tilting its brim down over his eyes, he calmly walked out of the bar.
He never should have let it happen, and he would not let it happen again.
-
Mantella - Stablehand
- Posts: 83
- Joined: Wed Sep 25, 2002 5:00 pm
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