Two old character sketches
Two old sketches of character development from a roleplaying game. The game was a futuristic world in which vampires had taken control of the government and created an opressive society. The speaker is a character named Juice whose brother David died while leading a rebel group. The other character mentioned, Martin, is a vampire.
Temporary Love:
He keeps me waiting. Sometimes it's a few days, sometimes weeks at a time. Once, I didn't see him for a whole month. I thought I'd go crazy from wanting, needing, craving everything I couldn't get. This time though... this time I had enough money to get me through. Just enough. Well, I would have had more if I didn't go out and get a fix last night. The apartment was so damn closing in on me though. I was feeling twitchy, restless- I couldn't stand it anymore. And I'd been heading out anyhow, really- needed to go see Jimmy. He's my music dealer - always has the best shit. He didn't disappoint- came through with some really good tunes - this album called Frankenchrist by an old band called The Dead Kennedys. I'm betting they weren't really dead when they made the album, but I'm guessing they are now. Everything's either dead or wishing to be dead these days. It's real fucking trendy. So I should've gone right home after picking up the music, yeah- but I was still restless, so I picked up some black tar from my other dealer -- the one I ain't supposed to be seeing, but who really gives a shit these days, right?
So tonight I'm feeling pretty good still- I've got this new music, and I'm listening to this song called Soup is Good Food and reading the latest issue of X-Men and then he calls. It's the same curt business as always - it's the meet me at the usual place, thirty minutes. Nevermind if I had plans. I could have had plans. I could've been throwing a fucking dinner party. Well, not really. I'd have to have friends for that. And dinner, for that matter. When's the last time I ate? I don't remember. But yeah, I got cleaned up a bit and went to meet him at our usual place. It's this underground club called The Requiem. And I'm sitting at this table, and he's taking forever and I think they're really pissed off that all I'm drinking is this cheap ass soda but that's what I got the money for right now... and then he's there faster than I saw him come in, leather trench coat and everything, and every word I could think of saying just kind of dies in my throat when he catches my arm and pulls up the sleeve of my shirt.
And what can I say? I try to make excuses, but the track marks are there, and he knows from looking at me anyhow. So I say I'm sorry and ask if he's mad at me, but he's just disappointed, and that's worse somehow. But I need the money, so I can't really walk away. I ask him if he wants to dance, and he says sure and we're standing up on the dance floor but neither one of us is moving and we're just staring at each other like there's nothing we have left to say. Maybe there isn't. So we head on out the door, and I think we'll go to his car and do our thing and he'll give me the money. But yeah, I always forget- he won't bite me when I'm using, and he's still not looking at me because I'm this great disappointment- and instead of the cash he takes me to this grocery store and buys me stuff I don't even know what the hell to do with. Like vegetables and healthy shit- okay, I keep putting some of the stuff I can nuke in the cart too, but he's got fruit in there before I know it and for once he's gonna take me back to my apartment because I can't carry all this.
I really want to invite him in, but the place is such a damn mess- I'm not exactly a housekeeper, and I don't want him to see how I live. It's kind of embarrassing, and he'd be getting stuff all over his coat and shoes. Tainted. That's what I am. My blood and my place and everything. I'm human and I'm dirty, and I guess maybe that's what he likes about it. Or maybe I don't really understand what brings him to me at all, but I hope it doesn't stop bringing him. And I wound up letting him in anyhow, and he's shaking his head at the needles and the trash and the pile of dishes I never got around to doing. I eat something to make him happy and he's halfway to out the door, but I beg him to stay... I still need some money. And it's never been less quiet in the apartment. Even when I talk to David, he doesn't exactly make a lot of noise back. He don't move things anymore. He don't move anymore either, really, 'cept that floating shit which isn't really moving so much as willing himself to be somewhere across the room then getting there. Ghosts are funny like that.
So I brought Martin into the bedroom, and played the music for him. We're laying in bed listening to the Dead Kennedys, and he's telling me about his week- things have been bad for him too. They're are cracking down on the college kids - 'cause some of them tried to take over a radio station on campus, broadcast the truth. Now they all gotta wear these little badges with their major on them, be searched at any time. Makes me glad I never even finished high school. I think he might have been involved in rounding up the riot that happened as a result of the whole mess. He's got that look he gets when he's had to kill someone he thinks didn't really need killing. I don't like it when he gets that look, so I try to make him feel better - distract him the only way I know how. And he won't even look at me in the semi-darkness, but his hands on my shoulders and through my hair are enough, it's enough, it's something... it's a little like love, at least until it's over. And after, when I'm lying next to him, I pull his arm around me and I ask him to tell me a story about what it was like before- back when there was music everywhere, back when things were better, back when he was alive... but he's fallen asleep, or at least, he's very still. It's hard to tell in the dark, and with the lack of breath... so I just whisper that I love him. Maybe I even mean it. He's the closest I know to safe, and these days, what else can you ask for? And I think the last line of music I heard before I fell asleep too was "Will Elvis take the place of Jesus in a thousand years," and I'm thinking maybe he already has...
and in the morning, my temporary love is gone, but there's five twenties in his place, spread out like a fan.
Taking Back Tuesday:
"Did you kill him, Martin? Did you kill my brother?"
"I wanted to get him out of there... but he insisted against it."
The events of that night just keep replaying in my head as I walked through the wrought-iron gates of Flushing cemetery. I keep wondering if there was a way to take back Tuesday, if I would just rather not know.
"I promised him, though, that I'd take care of you..."
The sun was dipping low in the sky, and the stone angels and crosses seemed to almost glow with the last light of the day. Kinda poetic, really. David would have liked it.
"Why didn't you tell me? Damnit, it's been a year, and you never even said a word... Martin, why?"
"Would you have let me take care of you otherwise?"
Later Tuesday night, I'd seen Martin's house for the first time. It was a comfortable place- I wanted to stay.
"Don't leave me, Martin..."
I had to do something to drown out the thoughts, 'cause I couldn't concentrate, couldn't focus. I had to focus, else I'd just take the money I had left from the weekend and get a quick fix to calm my nerves. I fished my CD player out of my pocket- battered old soul, but something I've never been desperate enough to sell or trade- put the little earpods into my ears, turned it on, shoved it back in. One of the things I'd gone home with from Martin's- a mix CD he'd burned for me, never quite got around to giving to me. Some of his music... some classical shit, some intellectual crap from plays.
I didn't expect to like it, any more than I liked the fact that I was looking for my brother's grave. Martin had told me about it... how he'd managed to retrieve... the body... how he'd picked out the headstone, and planted a little evergreen tree. It was hard for us to talk about, even in the dead of night, in the darkness. We were laying in his big wide bed with all the pillows, and it felt a little like dying, hearing the words but not really being able to absorb them all at once, just little bits and pieces so even now two nights later I can't be sure it all really happened....
The CD had come to this song with words ( a lot of them were just instrumental) and the words were even kind of fitting...
You were once my one companion,
you were all that mattered.
You were once a friend and father,
then my world was shattered.
Wishing you were somehow here again,
wishing you were somehow near.
Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed,
somehow you would be here.
I saw the green first, contrasting sharp against the snow- that was how I found it, from the tree. It wasn't much of a tree- looked like it was struggling, just to survive. But it wasn't on its way out or anything. Trees are tough when they need to be. I sat down in the snow, not minding the cold, beside the little tree, started digging in the cold snow..
Wishing I could hear your voice again,
knowing that I never would.
Dreaming of you won't help me to do,
all that you dreamed I could!
Passing bells and sculpted angels,
cold and monumental.
Seem, for you, the wrong companions,
you were warm and gentle..
The shadows were drawing closer, and I struggled to read in the growing dark -
David Davis
1992-2011
Beloved Friend and Brother
Too many years fighting back tears,
why can't the past just die!
"David," I whispered, stretching out in cold snow, pressing my face against the fresh-cleared headstone. It stung like hell from being cold, but the shock it sent through me was like waking up after a long, long sleep.
Wishing you were somehow here again,
knowing we must say goodbye!
Try to forgive, teach me to live!
Give me the strength to try!
I'd told Martin about how sometimes, I thought I saw David.. about how he had been the one to tell me to ask about his death that day in the park. Martin didn't seem to think I was crazy, just gave me a question to ask.
"David? What was the name of the group that helped your rebels before... you know.. ?"
His ghost didn't magically appear to answer. There was no sound save the end of the song...
No more memories, no more silent tears!
No more gazing across the wasted years!
Help me say goodbye...
help me say goodbye!
The instrumental stuff started up again after that, and I lay in the snow a while longer figuring I'd either expire of frostbite, or start crying to let it all out and feel infinitely better. But none of that happened. I was just cold, and wet and tired- so after a while I got up and brushed myself off, started heading out again past the graves and the angels and the gate. When I closed the gate behind me, along with the squeak came a distinct voice that said only Five.
Five what? I didn't know if that even made sense- but I'd agreed to meet Martin at the Requiem, so I had to get going... I'd told him earlier that I'd be there. Maybe he'll show and I can ask him what the heck "Five" means.
And tell him that David would have liked the tree.
Temporary Love:
He keeps me waiting. Sometimes it's a few days, sometimes weeks at a time. Once, I didn't see him for a whole month. I thought I'd go crazy from wanting, needing, craving everything I couldn't get. This time though... this time I had enough money to get me through. Just enough. Well, I would have had more if I didn't go out and get a fix last night. The apartment was so damn closing in on me though. I was feeling twitchy, restless- I couldn't stand it anymore. And I'd been heading out anyhow, really- needed to go see Jimmy. He's my music dealer - always has the best shit. He didn't disappoint- came through with some really good tunes - this album called Frankenchrist by an old band called The Dead Kennedys. I'm betting they weren't really dead when they made the album, but I'm guessing they are now. Everything's either dead or wishing to be dead these days. It's real fucking trendy. So I should've gone right home after picking up the music, yeah- but I was still restless, so I picked up some black tar from my other dealer -- the one I ain't supposed to be seeing, but who really gives a shit these days, right?
So tonight I'm feeling pretty good still- I've got this new music, and I'm listening to this song called Soup is Good Food and reading the latest issue of X-Men and then he calls. It's the same curt business as always - it's the meet me at the usual place, thirty minutes. Nevermind if I had plans. I could have had plans. I could've been throwing a fucking dinner party. Well, not really. I'd have to have friends for that. And dinner, for that matter. When's the last time I ate? I don't remember. But yeah, I got cleaned up a bit and went to meet him at our usual place. It's this underground club called The Requiem. And I'm sitting at this table, and he's taking forever and I think they're really pissed off that all I'm drinking is this cheap ass soda but that's what I got the money for right now... and then he's there faster than I saw him come in, leather trench coat and everything, and every word I could think of saying just kind of dies in my throat when he catches my arm and pulls up the sleeve of my shirt.
And what can I say? I try to make excuses, but the track marks are there, and he knows from looking at me anyhow. So I say I'm sorry and ask if he's mad at me, but he's just disappointed, and that's worse somehow. But I need the money, so I can't really walk away. I ask him if he wants to dance, and he says sure and we're standing up on the dance floor but neither one of us is moving and we're just staring at each other like there's nothing we have left to say. Maybe there isn't. So we head on out the door, and I think we'll go to his car and do our thing and he'll give me the money. But yeah, I always forget- he won't bite me when I'm using, and he's still not looking at me because I'm this great disappointment- and instead of the cash he takes me to this grocery store and buys me stuff I don't even know what the hell to do with. Like vegetables and healthy shit- okay, I keep putting some of the stuff I can nuke in the cart too, but he's got fruit in there before I know it and for once he's gonna take me back to my apartment because I can't carry all this.
I really want to invite him in, but the place is such a damn mess- I'm not exactly a housekeeper, and I don't want him to see how I live. It's kind of embarrassing, and he'd be getting stuff all over his coat and shoes. Tainted. That's what I am. My blood and my place and everything. I'm human and I'm dirty, and I guess maybe that's what he likes about it. Or maybe I don't really understand what brings him to me at all, but I hope it doesn't stop bringing him. And I wound up letting him in anyhow, and he's shaking his head at the needles and the trash and the pile of dishes I never got around to doing. I eat something to make him happy and he's halfway to out the door, but I beg him to stay... I still need some money. And it's never been less quiet in the apartment. Even when I talk to David, he doesn't exactly make a lot of noise back. He don't move things anymore. He don't move anymore either, really, 'cept that floating shit which isn't really moving so much as willing himself to be somewhere across the room then getting there. Ghosts are funny like that.
So I brought Martin into the bedroom, and played the music for him. We're laying in bed listening to the Dead Kennedys, and he's telling me about his week- things have been bad for him too. They're are cracking down on the college kids - 'cause some of them tried to take over a radio station on campus, broadcast the truth. Now they all gotta wear these little badges with their major on them, be searched at any time. Makes me glad I never even finished high school. I think he might have been involved in rounding up the riot that happened as a result of the whole mess. He's got that look he gets when he's had to kill someone he thinks didn't really need killing. I don't like it when he gets that look, so I try to make him feel better - distract him the only way I know how. And he won't even look at me in the semi-darkness, but his hands on my shoulders and through my hair are enough, it's enough, it's something... it's a little like love, at least until it's over. And after, when I'm lying next to him, I pull his arm around me and I ask him to tell me a story about what it was like before- back when there was music everywhere, back when things were better, back when he was alive... but he's fallen asleep, or at least, he's very still. It's hard to tell in the dark, and with the lack of breath... so I just whisper that I love him. Maybe I even mean it. He's the closest I know to safe, and these days, what else can you ask for? And I think the last line of music I heard before I fell asleep too was "Will Elvis take the place of Jesus in a thousand years," and I'm thinking maybe he already has...
and in the morning, my temporary love is gone, but there's five twenties in his place, spread out like a fan.
Taking Back Tuesday:
"Did you kill him, Martin? Did you kill my brother?"
"I wanted to get him out of there... but he insisted against it."
The events of that night just keep replaying in my head as I walked through the wrought-iron gates of Flushing cemetery. I keep wondering if there was a way to take back Tuesday, if I would just rather not know.
"I promised him, though, that I'd take care of you..."
The sun was dipping low in the sky, and the stone angels and crosses seemed to almost glow with the last light of the day. Kinda poetic, really. David would have liked it.
"Why didn't you tell me? Damnit, it's been a year, and you never even said a word... Martin, why?"
"Would you have let me take care of you otherwise?"
Later Tuesday night, I'd seen Martin's house for the first time. It was a comfortable place- I wanted to stay.
"Don't leave me, Martin..."
I had to do something to drown out the thoughts, 'cause I couldn't concentrate, couldn't focus. I had to focus, else I'd just take the money I had left from the weekend and get a quick fix to calm my nerves. I fished my CD player out of my pocket- battered old soul, but something I've never been desperate enough to sell or trade- put the little earpods into my ears, turned it on, shoved it back in. One of the things I'd gone home with from Martin's- a mix CD he'd burned for me, never quite got around to giving to me. Some of his music... some classical shit, some intellectual crap from plays.
I didn't expect to like it, any more than I liked the fact that I was looking for my brother's grave. Martin had told me about it... how he'd managed to retrieve... the body... how he'd picked out the headstone, and planted a little evergreen tree. It was hard for us to talk about, even in the dead of night, in the darkness. We were laying in his big wide bed with all the pillows, and it felt a little like dying, hearing the words but not really being able to absorb them all at once, just little bits and pieces so even now two nights later I can't be sure it all really happened....
The CD had come to this song with words ( a lot of them were just instrumental) and the words were even kind of fitting...
You were once my one companion,
you were all that mattered.
You were once a friend and father,
then my world was shattered.
Wishing you were somehow here again,
wishing you were somehow near.
Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed,
somehow you would be here.
I saw the green first, contrasting sharp against the snow- that was how I found it, from the tree. It wasn't much of a tree- looked like it was struggling, just to survive. But it wasn't on its way out or anything. Trees are tough when they need to be. I sat down in the snow, not minding the cold, beside the little tree, started digging in the cold snow..
Wishing I could hear your voice again,
knowing that I never would.
Dreaming of you won't help me to do,
all that you dreamed I could!
Passing bells and sculpted angels,
cold and monumental.
Seem, for you, the wrong companions,
you were warm and gentle..
The shadows were drawing closer, and I struggled to read in the growing dark -
David Davis
1992-2011
Beloved Friend and Brother
Too many years fighting back tears,
why can't the past just die!
"David," I whispered, stretching out in cold snow, pressing my face against the fresh-cleared headstone. It stung like hell from being cold, but the shock it sent through me was like waking up after a long, long sleep.
Wishing you were somehow here again,
knowing we must say goodbye!
Try to forgive, teach me to live!
Give me the strength to try!
I'd told Martin about how sometimes, I thought I saw David.. about how he had been the one to tell me to ask about his death that day in the park. Martin didn't seem to think I was crazy, just gave me a question to ask.
"David? What was the name of the group that helped your rebels before... you know.. ?"
His ghost didn't magically appear to answer. There was no sound save the end of the song...
No more memories, no more silent tears!
No more gazing across the wasted years!
Help me say goodbye...
help me say goodbye!
The instrumental stuff started up again after that, and I lay in the snow a while longer figuring I'd either expire of frostbite, or start crying to let it all out and feel infinitely better. But none of that happened. I was just cold, and wet and tired- so after a while I got up and brushed myself off, started heading out again past the graves and the angels and the gate. When I closed the gate behind me, along with the squeak came a distinct voice that said only Five.
Five what? I didn't know if that even made sense- but I'd agreed to meet Martin at the Requiem, so I had to get going... I'd told him earlier that I'd be there. Maybe he'll show and I can ask him what the heck "Five" means.
And tell him that David would have liked the tree.