Some Beginnings and a Prompt Request
I'm trying to find my muse. If you see her/him/it, can you please point it back my direction. On that note, I'm trying to decide what I should work on next. I'm still going through Stealing Rapunzel and making the tense changes, but that's pretty brainless and not much fun. So I'm going to post some beginnings and if anyone wants to weigh in on what I should work on next, feel free!
Title: Broken Boyfriend
Summary: When Becky's boyfriend wakes up from a coma, he's brought something back with him - something that wants Becky dead.
Pros: Rough draft is done/complete/finished (hooray!) but wow, is it ever rough. I wrote this way back in the very beginning of 2005 and it's been languishing on my computer ever since. Back when it was posted online, though, it had a pretty big following (for me, anyway) so I know this story has potential
Cons: Just not sure what to do with it. It's pretty short and needs a ton of fleshing out. Plus, it's revisions so it's not the fun part of writing a story.
The Prologue:
When I saw it happen - when I saw the SUV hit Braeden on his motorcycle - I thought I had just seen my boyfriend die. I stood frozen in place as I watched his body fly through the air in slow motion, exactly like they show in the movies when they slow the action down for maximum effect. The motorcycle went skidding the opposite direction, bits and pieces of it scattering across the pavement. It couldn’t have taken more than a second. The sound of the crash echoed in my ears for a long while after.
I screamed. It might have been Braeden’s name but I couldn’t be sure, and then I was sprinting toward the intersection. The pavement was wet from the rainstorm that had passed earlier that afternoon, and I slipped in a puddle and went down, hitting my ass on the concrete sidewalk before scrambling back to my feet. I had to get to Brae, had to see if he was alright.
There’s no way he’s okay, I thought. The SUV had been speeding, I was sure of it. No way they could hit Braeden that badly if they were doing the speed limit. My cell phone was in my hand but I couldn’t remember fishing it out of the pocket of my denim jacket.
The SUV’s tires squealed as the oversized vehicle slid to a wet stop. The driver’s side door was pushed open forcefully and then there was a balding, middle-aged man practically sobbing as he ran toward my boyfriend’s broken body.
“Oh my God!” he repeated as he took out his own phone. “Oh my God, I hit a kid!”
And that’s just it, I thought. Braeden was just a kid. He was sixteen; he couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t. I didn’t remember dropping my cell phone, but I heard it land; broken just as surely as Braeden was, lying on the wet pavement after a storm, and most likely dead.
Title: Tyler, Again
Summary: At 17, Tyler dies and is buried, leaving behind his father and Avery, his boyfriend (who is 16). Tyler's father is a mad, rich scientist who labors tirelessly to “resurrect” his son. He manages to clone his son, and then 'downloads' all of his son’s memories into the body. This task takes 9 years to do, and Tyler has one happy year with his father before his father is brutally murdered, possibly by Tyler's uncle, who sees this new Tyler as an abomination. Up to this point Tyler’s father has forbidden that he contact Avery, who has moved on and far away and has no idea that Tyler has been "resurrected". Pursued by the same people who killed his father, Tyler flees the city and seeks out Avery, the only person who might be able to help him. Chaos ensues.
Pros: I think it's a promising idea and will give me a chance to hone my action writing scenes.
Cons: Similar (vaguely) in plot to Drifting, only in the whole "replacement angst" thing. I might have been overly ambitious with this plot.
Chapter One: Death Most Foul and Ruinous
LAS CRUCES, NM - Two teens are dead and one other teen is injured following a single-car crash at 2:45 p.m. Saturday on Highway 70.
Tyler J. Montrose, 17, and Anton C. Ward, 18, were pronounced dead at the scene by Doña Ana County Coroner Dr. Alonso Martinez.
According to a press release issued by Sheriff Moses M. Perez’s office, Montrose was a front seat passenger in a 1997 Geo Prism driven by Ward.
Investigators say the three boys were traveling westbound on Highway 70, returning from a recruitment event at White Sands Air Force Base. Anton Ward apparently lost control when he ran a stop sign at a 4-way intersection and swerved to avoid hitting another car. Ward’s car went into a sideways skid. The vehicle went off the right side of the road, and struck a highway sign and a fence.
The car rolled three times and came to rest on its wheels some 200 feet from the intersection.
According to the report, Tyler Montrose’s seatbelt was broken and unable to be fastened properly. He was ejected from the car as it rolled.
A third person, Avery M. Julien, 16, was in the back seat. Both Julien and Ward were wearing seat belts.
The condition of the survivor is listed as stable. The report indicates Julien’s injuries did not appear to be life threatening, however he did sustain a broken arm and several abrasions.
A funeral is to be held for both boys at Unitarian Universalist Church at 2000 South Solano Drive this Wednesday at 2:00 PM, with graveside services held after. The funeral will be open to the public while the graveside services will be for family only.
[Article appearing in Las Cruces Sun-News, May 26, 2002]
***
Wednesday, May 29, 2002
Avery Julien was sixteen years old when his world ended. It ended on an unusually bleak day in May. Water fell from the slate gray sky in a fine mist that made the ground appropriately soggy.
It ended with two polished oak coffins; one of which held the body of the seventeen year old boy who would always, always own Avery’s heart. He sat in the pew, three rows back, his hands gripping a bible tightly. It wasn’t his bible, but it gave him something to hang on to. His hands were pale, and he felt sure that when he set the bible down it would retain the shape of his fingers. His fingers, immortalized in the soft black leather cover.
The church was beautiful, and Avery might have even appreciated it if not for the circumstances. Cream colored candles and bouquets of calla lilies decorated tables filled with candid photographs of both boys who’d died in the accident. Anton and Tyler’s senior portraits had been blown up and placed on tripod-like stands at the side of each coffin, and Avery almost couldn’t stand it. He loved that picture of Tyler - those steel gray eyes still managed to sparkle and look warm, his full lips pulled back in a laughing smile over white, perfect teeth.
Avery looked down at the cast on his arm. He’d resisted letting anyone sign it at first, but now it was positively covered with get well wishes and phone numbers from his classmates. He’d never been popular. Really, he was more the quiet type, not a nerd or a geek, just quiet. But for some reason everyone had wanted to visit him in the hospital, or sign his cast, or offer to hang out over the summer. Avery planned on being left alone to wallow in his grief. He didn’t know how he was going to face school in the fall. Would everyone still look at him with that look in their eyes? His own mother looked at him like that, with a look of uncertainty.
Jessica David, his best friend, sat next to him and fixed him with sad brown eyes, snaking her arm around his waist. Her voice came soft, in his ear.
“You know, they say that if it rains during a funeral, then that person went to heaven.”
Avery looped his own arm around Jessica’s shoulders, pulling her close. He leaned his cheek against the top of her head, her braided hair pressing into his skin. It was strangely grounding on a day where he still felt like he was free-falling.
“He wasn’t ready to go to heaven yet,” Avery whispered, and Jessica’s grasp tightened.
“I know, Avery,” she responded. “I know.”
Avery’s world ended, really ended, at the graveside service when the coffin was lowered - oh, so slowly - into the ground. Disengaging from Jessica, who’d affixed herself to his side once again, he crept up to the gaping hole in the earth that was devouring his heart and soul, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. His knees grew weak and he felt himself hit the earth - soft dirt and smooth blades of grass forced between his fingers. He’d smashed his flower, the one he was supposed to drop into the grave, his last token of love.
He felt hands under his arms, at least six of them, but he didn’t know who they belonged to. The world had gone blurry and sideways four days ago, and it was only getting worse. It was only once he was standing again and the hands were dusting off his knees that he realized he’d been talking, repeating the words over and over like a mantra.
“It should have been me.”
“No, don’t you ever say that, Avery.” The voice was rough, weathered by grief, and Avery looked up into the steely grey eyes of Tyler’s father, Dr. Montrose. They’d shared that eye color, and it caused Avery’s stomach to ache. Dr. Montrose leveled those piercing eyes at him. “You loved him, and he loved you. It would have been easier on you if you hadn’t, but you did. Thank you for letting him experience that before … this.”
Dr. Montrose gestured at the grave, and there was anger in the movement. Avery’s world became even blurrier, and he swiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his suit. Dr. Montrose put his arm around Avery’s shoulders. “You can still come around, if you’d like - if it wouldn’t hurt too much. I’d like that, you’re like a son to me too; but I’d understand if you can’t.”
Another hand landed on Avery’s shoulder. This one had a light, delicate touch, and when he looked at it he recognized it as his mother’s hand. He lifted his eyes to her face and noticed just how red-rimmed her eyes were. As if she cares. Avery frowned at himself for that thought. True, she’d not been pleased when Avery told her he’d had a boyfriend - hostile was a good word to describe it - but he was sure she’d never wished Tyler dead.
Oh, God, Tyler’s dead. Dead. Deaddeaddead.
“Thank you, Dr. Montrose. That’s very kind of you. Come on, Avery, we should go. The service is over.”
Tyler’s father moved as if he were going to hug Avery, but then stopped as if he thought better of it - as if it might make things awkward. Avery didn’t know if it would or not. Instead of moving into the aborted hug, he simply nodded. “Uh, thanks, Dr. Montrose. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” He allowed his mother to guide him out of the cemetery.
***
June, 2008 (Six Years Later)
Kenneth Montrose, Tyler’s father, barely recognized the twenty-two year old young man standing on his doorstep. In fact, if not for the distinct hazel eyes and dark chocolate hair, Dr. Montrose wouldn’t have recognized him at all. He’d gotten tall, probably at least six feet tall, and filled out without getting bulky. Swimmer’s body, his mind supplied.
“Avery Julien,” he breathed the name. The surprise must have shown on his face because Avery seemed to shrink into himself a little, and kicked his foot at a pebble that lay unobtrusively by the front door. “To what can I ascribe the pleasure?”
Avery’s brows creased a little as if remembering belatedly that Dr. Montrose was the local mad scientist and had a habit of talking funny.
“It’s been a while,” Avery said finally. “Can I come in? I know you weren’t expecting me.”
“Of course, my boy, of course!” Dr. Montrose moved his body sideways to allow Avery access to the house. Once inside he shut the door and proceeded to bustle about, showing Avery to the couch and insisting he sit while he and all his nervous energy went to the kitchen.
“Would you like something to drink?” Dr. Montrose called, peering at Avery from the kitchen archway. Avery’s hands rested on his knees and fisted in the fabric of his khaki pants.
Hmm, the boy seems nervous.
“Sure, what do you have?” Avery was obviously only being polite.
“Care for some bottled water?” Dr. Montrose was grabbing the bottles out of the fridge even before he heard Avery agreeing that bottled water was fine. He walked back to the living room and held the bottle out to Avery, who took it, unscrewed the cap and knocked it back almost like it was a shot.
“So,” Avery said.
“So,” Dr. Montrose repeated, sitting diagonally from Avery in a recliner. He leaned forward and looked directly at Avery, his elbows resting on his knees. He’d heard or read somewhere that this posture invited talk, made people feel welcome. He hoped it would work. There was no reason for Avery to be nervous here, except for the fact he hadn’t set foot inside the place since Tyler had passed away.
Passed away, he mused to himself while he waited for Avery to talk. Why am I sugarcoating it?
“I’ve graduated - from college. Computer Science. Um, that’s what I majored in, I mean. I got a job in IT and I won’t be back except on holidays to visit family and stuff. I thought I’d come by and say goodbye.”
“Avery, not to be rude,” Dr. Montrose began, really not understanding just what was going on, “but I haven’t seen you since you were sixteen.”
“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry,” Avery’s words came out breathy; strained. “It’s just this place, it hasn’t changed. This couch, your chair, God, it’s like he could just walk out and say, ‘hey, this was the world’s most tasteless, longest-running joke’.”
Dr. Montrose felt his lungs grow heavy and his face drooped. He knew his eyes looked sad. It was true - he hadn’t changed the place since Tyler’s death. He didn’t have the heart to, and even Tyler’s room was just as he’d left it.
“I’m sorry,” Avery was saying when Dr. Montrose came out of his haze of thoughts. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, you didn’t upset me. I still miss him, I always will. I know you will too. He’d have been surprised at how,” here Dr. Montrose made motions with his hands that indicated Avery’s height, “you are now.”
Avery laughed, his guard finally let down. Dr. Montrose was surprised he’d forgotten how Avery only had one dimple on his left cheek. Avery smiled at Dr. Montrose, but there was still a tinge of sadness there. “I actually came by to give you something. I’m moving, like I said, and I’ve gone through all my things and well, I thought you might like to have this.”
Avery rummaged through the messenger bag that he’d brought with him, and soon produced a framed picture, which he handed to Dr. Montrose.
“You- you don’t want this?” Dr. Montrose’s voice came small and a little choked as he looked at the picture. It was small, just a framed five by seven photograph of Avery and Tyler at the state fair. They were close together, their heads just touching. They each had a giant cone of cotton candy and were grinning at the camera like they couldn’t be happier. The sun was setting and in the background the lights on the ferris wheel gave the setting a magical feel. The photo couldn’t have been more perfect if it had been staged. When Dr. Montrose looked back up at Avery, the younger man’s eyes were pained.
“I’m sure you understand,” Avery replied softly. “I’ve kept a few pictures, but it’s time for me to move on, and I don’t just mean out of state. This picture - it makes me so sad, I don’t want to see it anymore. I’ve had it packed for the past six years and if you don’t take it . . . “ Avery’s voice lowered to whisper, and Dr. Montrose felt a fierce desire to take the photo and protect it with his life.
“Of course I’ll take the picture. Please don’t ever throw any pictures of him away, please!” Avery seemed startled by the scientist’s vehemence. He picked the messenger bag and set it on his lap, a bit of defensive posture if Dr. Montrose had ever seen one.
“I won’t throw anything away,” Avery said. “There’s a few I’ve kept; the rest are in a box at my mom’s house. If you want you can go over there sometime and get them, I know she won’t throw them out. She wouldn’t let me do it either.”
“I might do that, I don’t know,” sighed Dr. Montrose. He leaned back in his chair and looked at the picture again. “You two were so happy here. I hope you find that kind of happiness again.”
“Thanks, Dr. Montrose,” said Avery, his voice still soft. “I hope so too. Honestly I’ve been too busy with school to pursue a relationship.”
Dr. Montrose smiled and set the photo face down on the coffee table. “You’ll find someone,” he said. “I’m sure of it.”
“Not like Tyler,” Avery said right before he pressed his lips together in a thin line - as if he hadn’t meant to say that. “I should get going. I just wanted to bring you that, and see you again, for old times’ sake, you know?”
“Yes, anytime, Avery, you know you’re welcome here,” Dr. Montrose said. He stood at the same time as Avery and they shook hands. Dr. Montrose felt as if he’d just completed a business transaction.
“Thank you,” Avery said, withdrawing his hand. “See you around, old man.”
Dr. Montrose laughed. “See you around, Kid.”
***
Dr. Montrose took the framed picture to Tyler’s room. He sighed deeply as he looked around. The sheets needed changed on the bed again. They were getting dusty. The entire room was getting a coating of dust and he decided he’d come back in a few hours with a feather duster and clean up a bit. He walked over to a bookcase that still housed all of Tyler’s favorite books, one left sideways on a shelf with the page dog-eared, as if Tyler would somehow pick up right where he’d left off six years earlier. Dr. Montrose lifted the book from its original location and placed the picture where the book had been.
Now with both hands free, Dr. Montrose thumbed through the book. Dust motes lifted from the pages and floated brightly in the afternoon sunlight. There was an inscription written in pencil on the first page of the book.
Tyler, I want this book back. Love you - Avery
Dr. Montrose managed a smile. He set the book on a different shelf and smiled at the photo - at Tyler smiling back at him, so full of joie de vivre.
“Who knows, Tyler,” he said. “Maybe you’ll give Avery his book back someday.”
Title: In Winter DeepSummary: Ghost!boy is dead - long dead and is a bona-fied unsettled spirit prone to violent outbursts and whatnot. Ghost!boy is also cursed (or blessed) to be corporeal once every so often - only during these sessions he doesn’t remember that he’s dead. Cue broke or homeless girl/boy who has just moved to town into the dilapitaded house that is being haunted by ghost!boy as well as some other malevolent ghosts. Ghost!boy and broke or homeless girl/boy end up falling in love. The other malevolent ghosts (or ghost) has their own agenda regarding broke or homeless girl/boy.
Pros: Another story I think will be fun to write
Cons: Probably my least developed plot idea (like you couldn't tell from the summary)
I. January 1913
Autumn had been perilously short. Old Man Winter, that unforgiving ghoul, curled his tendril-like fingers deep into the ground leaving no quarter untouched. The lake froze solid; the river nearly so. Snow had fallen even before the last red-gold leaf drifted earthward, and a bone-deep chill settled over the land. The winter solstice came and went, and despite the days growing longer, it seemed as if winter were here to stay. January brought with it a tedious gloom - cloudy skies that blocked the sun and allowed no patch of blue to shine through. Rolling mists drifted over hills and valleys as thick, miserable fog.
After languishing in the gloom of another day, nightfall was nearly a relief. On this night, the wind had picked up, and the skeletal branches of trees scraped moodily against Winterdeep Manor. No stars or moon penetrated the mist that surrounded the house. This was darkness that epitomized darkness, lending an eerie calm to the evening. Inside Winterdeep Manor, a young man peered out one of the windows, past his own reflection cast in firelight and into that creeping, tremulous darkness.
He lifted a glass of warm amber liquid to his lips even as Jack Frost threatened his reflection with his delicate feathers of ice.
“I think,” the young man said to his reflection, his voice soft and still, “I think my house is haunted.”
Behind him, though no window was open to allow a breeze, the portraits on the wall swung their agreement, whispering gently against the wallpaper.
So those are my three main options at this point. I have other story ideas floating about but nothing I think I'm going to work on soon.
Another idea I had to get the muse flowing again was to do a timestamp for Drifting Through Doorways, but I have no idea what to do a timestamp of (I've never done a timestamp - Drifting was my very first fic). So, on that note, I'm taking prompts! If you've read Drifting and want to read more, please let me know what you'd like to read.
Title: Broken Boyfriend
Summary: When Becky's boyfriend wakes up from a coma, he's brought something back with him - something that wants Becky dead.
Pros: Rough draft is done/complete/finished (hooray!) but wow, is it ever rough. I wrote this way back in the very beginning of 2005 and it's been languishing on my computer ever since. Back when it was posted online, though, it had a pretty big following (for me, anyway) so I know this story has potential
Cons: Just not sure what to do with it. It's pretty short and needs a ton of fleshing out. Plus, it's revisions so it's not the fun part of writing a story.
The Prologue:
When I saw it happen - when I saw the SUV hit Braeden on his motorcycle - I thought I had just seen my boyfriend die. I stood frozen in place as I watched his body fly through the air in slow motion, exactly like they show in the movies when they slow the action down for maximum effect. The motorcycle went skidding the opposite direction, bits and pieces of it scattering across the pavement. It couldn’t have taken more than a second. The sound of the crash echoed in my ears for a long while after.
I screamed. It might have been Braeden’s name but I couldn’t be sure, and then I was sprinting toward the intersection. The pavement was wet from the rainstorm that had passed earlier that afternoon, and I slipped in a puddle and went down, hitting my ass on the concrete sidewalk before scrambling back to my feet. I had to get to Brae, had to see if he was alright.
There’s no way he’s okay, I thought. The SUV had been speeding, I was sure of it. No way they could hit Braeden that badly if they were doing the speed limit. My cell phone was in my hand but I couldn’t remember fishing it out of the pocket of my denim jacket.
The SUV’s tires squealed as the oversized vehicle slid to a wet stop. The driver’s side door was pushed open forcefully and then there was a balding, middle-aged man practically sobbing as he ran toward my boyfriend’s broken body.
“Oh my God!” he repeated as he took out his own phone. “Oh my God, I hit a kid!”
And that’s just it, I thought. Braeden was just a kid. He was sixteen; he couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t. I didn’t remember dropping my cell phone, but I heard it land; broken just as surely as Braeden was, lying on the wet pavement after a storm, and most likely dead.
Title: Tyler, Again
Summary: At 17, Tyler dies and is buried, leaving behind his father and Avery, his boyfriend (who is 16). Tyler's father is a mad, rich scientist who labors tirelessly to “resurrect” his son. He manages to clone his son, and then 'downloads' all of his son’s memories into the body. This task takes 9 years to do, and Tyler has one happy year with his father before his father is brutally murdered, possibly by Tyler's uncle, who sees this new Tyler as an abomination. Up to this point Tyler’s father has forbidden that he contact Avery, who has moved on and far away and has no idea that Tyler has been "resurrected". Pursued by the same people who killed his father, Tyler flees the city and seeks out Avery, the only person who might be able to help him. Chaos ensues.
Pros: I think it's a promising idea and will give me a chance to hone my action writing scenes.
Cons: Similar (vaguely) in plot to Drifting, only in the whole "replacement angst" thing. I might have been overly ambitious with this plot.
Chapter One: Death Most Foul and Ruinous
LAS CRUCES, NM - Two teens are dead and one other teen is injured following a single-car crash at 2:45 p.m. Saturday on Highway 70.
Tyler J. Montrose, 17, and Anton C. Ward, 18, were pronounced dead at the scene by Doña Ana County Coroner Dr. Alonso Martinez.
According to a press release issued by Sheriff Moses M. Perez’s office, Montrose was a front seat passenger in a 1997 Geo Prism driven by Ward.
Investigators say the three boys were traveling westbound on Highway 70, returning from a recruitment event at White Sands Air Force Base. Anton Ward apparently lost control when he ran a stop sign at a 4-way intersection and swerved to avoid hitting another car. Ward’s car went into a sideways skid. The vehicle went off the right side of the road, and struck a highway sign and a fence.
The car rolled three times and came to rest on its wheels some 200 feet from the intersection.
According to the report, Tyler Montrose’s seatbelt was broken and unable to be fastened properly. He was ejected from the car as it rolled.
A third person, Avery M. Julien, 16, was in the back seat. Both Julien and Ward were wearing seat belts.
The condition of the survivor is listed as stable. The report indicates Julien’s injuries did not appear to be life threatening, however he did sustain a broken arm and several abrasions.
A funeral is to be held for both boys at Unitarian Universalist Church at 2000 South Solano Drive this Wednesday at 2:00 PM, with graveside services held after. The funeral will be open to the public while the graveside services will be for family only.
[Article appearing in Las Cruces Sun-News, May 26, 2002]
***
Wednesday, May 29, 2002
Avery Julien was sixteen years old when his world ended. It ended on an unusually bleak day in May. Water fell from the slate gray sky in a fine mist that made the ground appropriately soggy.
It ended with two polished oak coffins; one of which held the body of the seventeen year old boy who would always, always own Avery’s heart. He sat in the pew, three rows back, his hands gripping a bible tightly. It wasn’t his bible, but it gave him something to hang on to. His hands were pale, and he felt sure that when he set the bible down it would retain the shape of his fingers. His fingers, immortalized in the soft black leather cover.
The church was beautiful, and Avery might have even appreciated it if not for the circumstances. Cream colored candles and bouquets of calla lilies decorated tables filled with candid photographs of both boys who’d died in the accident. Anton and Tyler’s senior portraits had been blown up and placed on tripod-like stands at the side of each coffin, and Avery almost couldn’t stand it. He loved that picture of Tyler - those steel gray eyes still managed to sparkle and look warm, his full lips pulled back in a laughing smile over white, perfect teeth.
Avery looked down at the cast on his arm. He’d resisted letting anyone sign it at first, but now it was positively covered with get well wishes and phone numbers from his classmates. He’d never been popular. Really, he was more the quiet type, not a nerd or a geek, just quiet. But for some reason everyone had wanted to visit him in the hospital, or sign his cast, or offer to hang out over the summer. Avery planned on being left alone to wallow in his grief. He didn’t know how he was going to face school in the fall. Would everyone still look at him with that look in their eyes? His own mother looked at him like that, with a look of uncertainty.
Jessica David, his best friend, sat next to him and fixed him with sad brown eyes, snaking her arm around his waist. Her voice came soft, in his ear.
“You know, they say that if it rains during a funeral, then that person went to heaven.”
Avery looped his own arm around Jessica’s shoulders, pulling her close. He leaned his cheek against the top of her head, her braided hair pressing into his skin. It was strangely grounding on a day where he still felt like he was free-falling.
“He wasn’t ready to go to heaven yet,” Avery whispered, and Jessica’s grasp tightened.
“I know, Avery,” she responded. “I know.”
Avery’s world ended, really ended, at the graveside service when the coffin was lowered - oh, so slowly - into the ground. Disengaging from Jessica, who’d affixed herself to his side once again, he crept up to the gaping hole in the earth that was devouring his heart and soul, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. His knees grew weak and he felt himself hit the earth - soft dirt and smooth blades of grass forced between his fingers. He’d smashed his flower, the one he was supposed to drop into the grave, his last token of love.
He felt hands under his arms, at least six of them, but he didn’t know who they belonged to. The world had gone blurry and sideways four days ago, and it was only getting worse. It was only once he was standing again and the hands were dusting off his knees that he realized he’d been talking, repeating the words over and over like a mantra.
“It should have been me.”
“No, don’t you ever say that, Avery.” The voice was rough, weathered by grief, and Avery looked up into the steely grey eyes of Tyler’s father, Dr. Montrose. They’d shared that eye color, and it caused Avery’s stomach to ache. Dr. Montrose leveled those piercing eyes at him. “You loved him, and he loved you. It would have been easier on you if you hadn’t, but you did. Thank you for letting him experience that before … this.”
Dr. Montrose gestured at the grave, and there was anger in the movement. Avery’s world became even blurrier, and he swiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his suit. Dr. Montrose put his arm around Avery’s shoulders. “You can still come around, if you’d like - if it wouldn’t hurt too much. I’d like that, you’re like a son to me too; but I’d understand if you can’t.”
Another hand landed on Avery’s shoulder. This one had a light, delicate touch, and when he looked at it he recognized it as his mother’s hand. He lifted his eyes to her face and noticed just how red-rimmed her eyes were. As if she cares. Avery frowned at himself for that thought. True, she’d not been pleased when Avery told her he’d had a boyfriend - hostile was a good word to describe it - but he was sure she’d never wished Tyler dead.
Oh, God, Tyler’s dead. Dead. Deaddeaddead.
“Thank you, Dr. Montrose. That’s very kind of you. Come on, Avery, we should go. The service is over.”
Tyler’s father moved as if he were going to hug Avery, but then stopped as if he thought better of it - as if it might make things awkward. Avery didn’t know if it would or not. Instead of moving into the aborted hug, he simply nodded. “Uh, thanks, Dr. Montrose. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” He allowed his mother to guide him out of the cemetery.
***
June, 2008 (Six Years Later)
Kenneth Montrose, Tyler’s father, barely recognized the twenty-two year old young man standing on his doorstep. In fact, if not for the distinct hazel eyes and dark chocolate hair, Dr. Montrose wouldn’t have recognized him at all. He’d gotten tall, probably at least six feet tall, and filled out without getting bulky. Swimmer’s body, his mind supplied.
“Avery Julien,” he breathed the name. The surprise must have shown on his face because Avery seemed to shrink into himself a little, and kicked his foot at a pebble that lay unobtrusively by the front door. “To what can I ascribe the pleasure?”
Avery’s brows creased a little as if remembering belatedly that Dr. Montrose was the local mad scientist and had a habit of talking funny.
“It’s been a while,” Avery said finally. “Can I come in? I know you weren’t expecting me.”
“Of course, my boy, of course!” Dr. Montrose moved his body sideways to allow Avery access to the house. Once inside he shut the door and proceeded to bustle about, showing Avery to the couch and insisting he sit while he and all his nervous energy went to the kitchen.
“Would you like something to drink?” Dr. Montrose called, peering at Avery from the kitchen archway. Avery’s hands rested on his knees and fisted in the fabric of his khaki pants.
Hmm, the boy seems nervous.
“Sure, what do you have?” Avery was obviously only being polite.
“Care for some bottled water?” Dr. Montrose was grabbing the bottles out of the fridge even before he heard Avery agreeing that bottled water was fine. He walked back to the living room and held the bottle out to Avery, who took it, unscrewed the cap and knocked it back almost like it was a shot.
“So,” Avery said.
“So,” Dr. Montrose repeated, sitting diagonally from Avery in a recliner. He leaned forward and looked directly at Avery, his elbows resting on his knees. He’d heard or read somewhere that this posture invited talk, made people feel welcome. He hoped it would work. There was no reason for Avery to be nervous here, except for the fact he hadn’t set foot inside the place since Tyler had passed away.
Passed away, he mused to himself while he waited for Avery to talk. Why am I sugarcoating it?
“I’ve graduated - from college. Computer Science. Um, that’s what I majored in, I mean. I got a job in IT and I won’t be back except on holidays to visit family and stuff. I thought I’d come by and say goodbye.”
“Avery, not to be rude,” Dr. Montrose began, really not understanding just what was going on, “but I haven’t seen you since you were sixteen.”
“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry,” Avery’s words came out breathy; strained. “It’s just this place, it hasn’t changed. This couch, your chair, God, it’s like he could just walk out and say, ‘hey, this was the world’s most tasteless, longest-running joke’.”
Dr. Montrose felt his lungs grow heavy and his face drooped. He knew his eyes looked sad. It was true - he hadn’t changed the place since Tyler’s death. He didn’t have the heart to, and even Tyler’s room was just as he’d left it.
“I’m sorry,” Avery was saying when Dr. Montrose came out of his haze of thoughts. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, you didn’t upset me. I still miss him, I always will. I know you will too. He’d have been surprised at how,” here Dr. Montrose made motions with his hands that indicated Avery’s height, “you are now.”
Avery laughed, his guard finally let down. Dr. Montrose was surprised he’d forgotten how Avery only had one dimple on his left cheek. Avery smiled at Dr. Montrose, but there was still a tinge of sadness there. “I actually came by to give you something. I’m moving, like I said, and I’ve gone through all my things and well, I thought you might like to have this.”
Avery rummaged through the messenger bag that he’d brought with him, and soon produced a framed picture, which he handed to Dr. Montrose.
“You- you don’t want this?” Dr. Montrose’s voice came small and a little choked as he looked at the picture. It was small, just a framed five by seven photograph of Avery and Tyler at the state fair. They were close together, their heads just touching. They each had a giant cone of cotton candy and were grinning at the camera like they couldn’t be happier. The sun was setting and in the background the lights on the ferris wheel gave the setting a magical feel. The photo couldn’t have been more perfect if it had been staged. When Dr. Montrose looked back up at Avery, the younger man’s eyes were pained.
“I’m sure you understand,” Avery replied softly. “I’ve kept a few pictures, but it’s time for me to move on, and I don’t just mean out of state. This picture - it makes me so sad, I don’t want to see it anymore. I’ve had it packed for the past six years and if you don’t take it . . . “ Avery’s voice lowered to whisper, and Dr. Montrose felt a fierce desire to take the photo and protect it with his life.
“Of course I’ll take the picture. Please don’t ever throw any pictures of him away, please!” Avery seemed startled by the scientist’s vehemence. He picked the messenger bag and set it on his lap, a bit of defensive posture if Dr. Montrose had ever seen one.
“I won’t throw anything away,” Avery said. “There’s a few I’ve kept; the rest are in a box at my mom’s house. If you want you can go over there sometime and get them, I know she won’t throw them out. She wouldn’t let me do it either.”
“I might do that, I don’t know,” sighed Dr. Montrose. He leaned back in his chair and looked at the picture again. “You two were so happy here. I hope you find that kind of happiness again.”
“Thanks, Dr. Montrose,” said Avery, his voice still soft. “I hope so too. Honestly I’ve been too busy with school to pursue a relationship.”
Dr. Montrose smiled and set the photo face down on the coffee table. “You’ll find someone,” he said. “I’m sure of it.”
“Not like Tyler,” Avery said right before he pressed his lips together in a thin line - as if he hadn’t meant to say that. “I should get going. I just wanted to bring you that, and see you again, for old times’ sake, you know?”
“Yes, anytime, Avery, you know you’re welcome here,” Dr. Montrose said. He stood at the same time as Avery and they shook hands. Dr. Montrose felt as if he’d just completed a business transaction.
“Thank you,” Avery said, withdrawing his hand. “See you around, old man.”
Dr. Montrose laughed. “See you around, Kid.”
***
Dr. Montrose took the framed picture to Tyler’s room. He sighed deeply as he looked around. The sheets needed changed on the bed again. They were getting dusty. The entire room was getting a coating of dust and he decided he’d come back in a few hours with a feather duster and clean up a bit. He walked over to a bookcase that still housed all of Tyler’s favorite books, one left sideways on a shelf with the page dog-eared, as if Tyler would somehow pick up right where he’d left off six years earlier. Dr. Montrose lifted the book from its original location and placed the picture where the book had been.
Now with both hands free, Dr. Montrose thumbed through the book. Dust motes lifted from the pages and floated brightly in the afternoon sunlight. There was an inscription written in pencil on the first page of the book.
Tyler, I want this book back. Love you - Avery
Dr. Montrose managed a smile. He set the book on a different shelf and smiled at the photo - at Tyler smiling back at him, so full of joie de vivre.
“Who knows, Tyler,” he said. “Maybe you’ll give Avery his book back someday.”
Title: In Winter DeepSummary: Ghost!boy is dead - long dead and is a bona-fied unsettled spirit prone to violent outbursts and whatnot. Ghost!boy is also cursed (or blessed) to be corporeal once every so often - only during these sessions he doesn’t remember that he’s dead. Cue broke or homeless girl/boy who has just moved to town into the dilapitaded house that is being haunted by ghost!boy as well as some other malevolent ghosts. Ghost!boy and broke or homeless girl/boy end up falling in love. The other malevolent ghosts (or ghost) has their own agenda regarding broke or homeless girl/boy.
Pros: Another story I think will be fun to write
Cons: Probably my least developed plot idea (like you couldn't tell from the summary)
I. January 1913
Autumn had been perilously short. Old Man Winter, that unforgiving ghoul, curled his tendril-like fingers deep into the ground leaving no quarter untouched. The lake froze solid; the river nearly so. Snow had fallen even before the last red-gold leaf drifted earthward, and a bone-deep chill settled over the land. The winter solstice came and went, and despite the days growing longer, it seemed as if winter were here to stay. January brought with it a tedious gloom - cloudy skies that blocked the sun and allowed no patch of blue to shine through. Rolling mists drifted over hills and valleys as thick, miserable fog.
After languishing in the gloom of another day, nightfall was nearly a relief. On this night, the wind had picked up, and the skeletal branches of trees scraped moodily against Winterdeep Manor. No stars or moon penetrated the mist that surrounded the house. This was darkness that epitomized darkness, lending an eerie calm to the evening. Inside Winterdeep Manor, a young man peered out one of the windows, past his own reflection cast in firelight and into that creeping, tremulous darkness.
He lifted a glass of warm amber liquid to his lips even as Jack Frost threatened his reflection with his delicate feathers of ice.
“I think,” the young man said to his reflection, his voice soft and still, “I think my house is haunted.”
Behind him, though no window was open to allow a breeze, the portraits on the wall swung their agreement, whispering gently against the wallpaper.
So those are my three main options at this point. I have other story ideas floating about but nothing I think I'm going to work on soon.
Another idea I had to get the muse flowing again was to do a timestamp for Drifting Through Doorways, but I have no idea what to do a timestamp of (I've never done a timestamp - Drifting was my very first fic). So, on that note, I'm taking prompts! If you've read Drifting and want to read more, please let me know what you'd like to read.