Virginia's Closet Cleaning
anonymous
November 14 2009, 17:40:49 UTC
I wrote this eons ago but abandoned it. OP has inspired me. Anon may take awhile as anon has to rethink the plot to get everything you asked for. The story takes place in a flashback starting a little after the 1860 election so get ready for flashbacks inside a flashback to get those earlier request. italics=present day ___________
“I have to get this done.” Virginia said to herself with determination.
It was a daunting task, but it was a necessary one. Tomorrow was her birthday. And birthdays for a state meant 50 plus presents of varying shapes and sizes from all of her brothers, sisters, cousins, and her father, less than half of which she actually used. Not wanting to be rude, the rest she stored away in case the giver would want to see that she gift she received had been appreciated (Except the rattle snake that idiot New Mexico had given her, she had sent that thing out the window two seconds after taking it out of the bag). But after all these years she was simply running out of space.
And thus Virginia found herself in the present predicament of needing to clear out her closet of everything she had received over the last hundred years and whatever else she had put in there and forgot about.
It had to be done before tomorrow, when everyone would be at her house. It had to be done. It had to be done.
She really did not want to do this.
Virginia stood before the mahogany door of her hallway closet. A notepad and pen were held in one hand. The pale blonde girl steeled herself. Taking a deep breathe she muttered to herself, “Come on, Virginia. You’re the responsible one in the family. Just get this finished.”
With a purposeful hand, she grabbed gently opened the door and stepped inside. Reaching onto the wall, Virginia found and flicked on the light switch. Her cool blue gave the room and its contents a slow, appraising look.
Frowning, she turned off the dim light, waited a few seconds, and then switched it back on. Still there. She tried again, and again. Dark, light, dark, light.
It did not work. Everything was still there. Virginia stared in horror at the sight of it all.
Virginia's Closet Cleaning 2
anonymous
November 14 2009, 17:48:53 UTC
Before the genteel Southern state was a mountain - no, several mountains - of various objects from over the decades. They were literally piles of useless junk she had never spared a second glance at since putting in here. Just how big was this closet? How long would this take her? A year?
Virginia shook her head, dispelling any despairing thoughts. Stop that, she thought, A lady does not shirk her responsibilities.
She stepped into the closet, calculating where each foot would fall to avoid breaking anything. Where to begin?
The pile with the surfboard sticking out of it seemed like a good start. Any heap with California’s gifts in it had probably been the heap Virginia had written off as “throw away at earliest possible convenience.” Admittedly, the surf board was one of her adopted sister’s nicer gifts (nicely normal, at any rate) but Virginia shuddered at the idea of making a fool of herself at the beach. The rest of California’s birthdays presents to her on the other hand…
What was wrong with that girl? A plastic cow that sang a commercial jingle, a bust of Ronald Reagan, another of Arnold Schwarzenegger, A tie-dye shirt that didn’t fit (Much to her irritation, it fit the much taller sister just fine), a headband with furry cat ears on it, a life sized Terminator…
It was all going to go. California had most likely long forgotten most of this stuff anyway.
Virginia scribbled down what was to be tossed out. She went to her knees and pulled out other smaller items, mumbling to herself as she marked them down as well.
“Walkman?” Toss.
“Sketchbook?” Keep.
“Jewelry box?” Toss.
“Bucket full of sea shells?” Toss
“An Antebellum dress?” Toss.
“A Spanish-American War uniform?” Was it hers? Virginia checked for the patched hole. Yes, it was indeed hers. Keep.
“Star Wars toy?” Toss
“Cheese grater?” Toss
“Alien costume?” Toss
“Chest of -”
Virginia gave the old wooden chest a puzzled stare. Just what has in this thing anyway? She didn’t remember putting this in here. Deftly, she pulled the chest out of the pile and set it down on the space clear of junk next to her. Fingers traced the unlocked clasp that held the lid down. She flipped it up and opened up the chest.
Inside was a uniform. Grey. Grey and torn and bloody....
Virginia's Closet Cleaning 3
anonymous
November 14 2009, 17:55:08 UTC
Cannons in the distance and musket fire up close, officers shouting orders and men yelling in anger and fear and pain across the field: the sounds of war surrounded the exhausted Virginia. Lines of soldiers, blue and grey marching towards each other, halting only to aim, fire, and unleash a wave of death upon the opposing side and filling the air with the smell of gunpowder. Lines collapsing as soldiers from one side of the battlefield reached the other and bayonets and small arms replaced the massive fire lines. Fighting each other, slaughtering each other, dying amongst one another.
It was all so close - this battle between her men and her father’s. Of course it was close, she was right there in the thick of it; she’d been rallying her men with a defiant rebel yell at her lips, leading the charge of Confederate troops. Those troops, exhausted, starving, defiant nonetheless, determined to drive the enemy who was their brother out of their home. Their determination made Virginia proud, and seeing their state proud of them made the men even more determined not to let this battle go any further south. With abandon they plunged into the battle against the Yankees. Virginia by their sides, encouraging them. Virginia in front of them, leading the glorious charge.
None of that mattered now, though. The cannons and muskets might as well have been pebbles dropping into the pond. The roar of battle was so distant. Everything was distant. Men seemed to silently move around her like she was encased in an invisible shell. Everything was a blur, the whole battle shifting and twisting like some mad painting of horrid grey and blue and brown and red. Everything really was right there, Virginia just couldn’t focus on it, so concerned she was with the task at hand.
Georgia was lying on the ground, bleeding, crying, screaming. Her gun next to her in the dirt, her grey uniform was torn and soaked in blood, most of it hers but some from Virginia’s own fresh wounds. Virginia did her best to stop the bleeding, but nothing she did could stop her dark haired sister’s shrieks.
“It hurts.” Georgia gasped, “It hurts so much.”
Virginia tried to block out Georgia pain filled words as she wrapped strips of cloth around her stomach. Virginia’s hands were unsteady, that artillery fire was still ringing in her ears, and she felt so weak. She quickly wiped her brow and looked up from where she was on the ground. It would take forever to reach the doctors back at the camp.
Georgia cried out again. Blood began to seep down her forehead
“Just stay still, alright?” Virginia said reassuringly, “You’re going to be fine.”
The younger sister managed move her head to stare at her elder with hollow, tired eyes. “I can’t do this anymore. It hurts so much.” she whispered.
“No!” Virginia bent down closer to her face. “Listen to me!” she said desperately, “You have to stay strong! We can still win this, we just have to hold out for a little while longer!”
Georgia’s tired eyes looked unbelievingly at her fellow Southern state.
“Remember what we’re fighting for!” Virginia pressed on, “Remember your people. They’re counting on you to stay strong!”
Virginia's Closet Cleaning 4
anonymous
November 14 2009, 17:57:05 UTC
Georgia’s blue eyes struggled to stay open. Slowly, every blink brought them further to a close before they shut completely. Virginia felt her body turn cold.
“Georgia? Georgia!” she shrieked, “No! Stay awake! You need to stay awake.”
Was it really over? No! Virginia would not accept that! She grabbed Georgia’s shoulders and shook her unconscious body
“Please Georgia! Wake up!” Tears welled Virginia’s eyes. “You need to - I need you…”
“Virginia!”
The state in question looked up. The bubble that had isolated her from the raging battle was broken. War and death once again overwhelmed the leader of the Confederacy. But once again she ignored it all. The people in front of her grabbed all her attention.
Her brother Illinois, was the one who called her out. Disheveled clothes and uncombed brown hair did nothing to dampen the cold fire in his eyes. Next to him was Ohio, the red head state who seemed to relish the savagery of the war. California, her trademark loopy smile replaced with a grim frown and dirty face. Pennsylvania and Rhode Island, looking better than when she had last saw them. All of them were armed. All of them wore blue
In front of them all was her father, America. Her excitable and loud father, friendly if forceful. Her smiling, bespectacled father, with his warm embrace and thunderous laughter.
This was a different father. A worn out father whose laughter was hollow and smiles devoid of mirth. Not that he was smiling at the moment. In fact his face was expressionless, as if he was letting his children do all the emotional work for him. This wasn’t the father who had held her in his arms and thrown her into the air. This wasn’t the father who had thrown her huge birthday parties and boasted to all his friends about how she was such a responsible young lady. This was a father who had spent four years of civil war trying to bring eleven rebellious children back under his rule.
Eleven rebellious children that she was the leaders of.
Virginia grabbed her rifle and leaped up in front of Georgia. She aimed at her father. It wasn’t loaded but he didn’t know that.
Or maybe he did. He barely blinked at her movements and waved off her siblings as they moved to defend him. America did not raise his own weapon, he merely stared at Virginia as she struggled to keep the gun aimed straight in her unsteady hands.
Virginia's Closet Cleaning 5
anonymous
November 14 2009, 17:58:48 UTC
Virginia glared at him and growled, “Not as long as I draw breathe.”
America’s eye’s narrowed. “Look around you, Virginia! Your people are dying, I’ve already dragged some of your fellow rebels back into the Union. You’re going to kill yourself if you keep on resisting! Look at what you’ve done to Georgia!” he motioned to his other daughter on the ground.
“I don’t care!” she shouted, “We all feel the same way and we would rather die than be slaves to you!
“You really don’t understand the irony of what you just said, do you?” America said sadly. “You can’t keep fighting. You don’t have too. We can work this out, Virginia. Just come back me.”
He looked at her and his emotions finally showed. She could see the anguish and sorrow in his eyes.
“Please, just be my daughter again.”
Virginia almost lowered her rifle. There was sincerity in his words. And she was sick and tired of fighting her sibling. To be a family again, a whole family. Maybe, maybe…
No! The cause, stay loyal to the cause! You wanted freedom and you have to fight to get it! Everything has a price and you have to pays yours!
Virginia looked at her Union siblings and her father with renewed determination. She hefted the rifle and sprinted, bayonet flashing in the sun. America didn’t move. Fine with her.
Let him be noble, he’s too full of himself anyway.
Bayonet held firm. America not moving. Virginia closer with each step.
“Sic semper tyrannis!” she shouted as she thrust the weapon at his heart.
Virginia slammed the lid shut.
Oh. It was that chest. Virginia shook her head to dispel those memories. She was not going to dwell on that time so close to her birthday. No. No. No. No.
And yet… Something compelled Virginia. Sighing, sure she was going to hate herself later for this, she opened up the chest and looked back again into the memories of those dark days.
___________
“I have to get this done.” Virginia said to herself with determination.
It was a daunting task, but it was a necessary one. Tomorrow was her birthday. And birthdays for a state meant 50 plus presents of varying shapes and sizes from all of her brothers, sisters, cousins, and her father, less than half of which she actually used. Not wanting to be rude, the rest she stored away in case the giver would want to see that she gift she received had been appreciated (Except the rattle snake that idiot New Mexico had given her, she had sent that thing out the window two seconds after taking it out of the bag). But after all these years she was simply running out of space.
And thus Virginia found herself in the present predicament of needing to clear out her closet of everything she had received over the last hundred years and whatever else she had put in there and forgot about.
It had to be done before tomorrow, when everyone would be at her house. It had to be done. It had to be done.
She really did not want to do this.
Virginia stood before the mahogany door of her hallway closet. A notepad and pen were held in one hand. The pale blonde girl steeled herself. Taking a deep breathe she muttered to herself, “Come on, Virginia. You’re the responsible one in the family. Just get this finished.”
With a purposeful hand, she grabbed gently opened the door and stepped inside. Reaching onto the wall, Virginia found and flicked on the light switch. Her cool blue gave the room and its contents a slow, appraising look.
Frowning, she turned off the dim light, waited a few seconds, and then switched it back on. Still there. She tried again, and again. Dark, light, dark, light.
It did not work. Everything was still there. Virginia stared in horror at the sight of it all.
“This is going to take awhile.” She mumbled.
Reply
Virginia shook her head, dispelling any despairing thoughts. Stop that, she thought, A lady does not shirk her responsibilities.
She stepped into the closet, calculating where each foot would fall to avoid breaking anything. Where to begin?
The pile with the surfboard sticking out of it seemed like a good start. Any heap with California’s gifts in it had probably been the heap Virginia had written off as “throw away at earliest possible convenience.” Admittedly, the surf board was one of her adopted sister’s nicer gifts (nicely normal, at any rate) but Virginia shuddered at the idea of making a fool of herself at the beach. The rest of California’s birthdays presents to her on the other hand…
What was wrong with that girl? A plastic cow that sang a commercial jingle, a bust of Ronald Reagan, another of Arnold Schwarzenegger, A tie-dye shirt that didn’t fit (Much to her irritation, it fit the much taller sister just fine), a headband with furry cat ears on it, a life sized Terminator…
It was all going to go. California had most likely long forgotten most of this stuff anyway.
Virginia scribbled down what was to be tossed out. She went to her knees and pulled out other smaller items, mumbling to herself as she marked them down as well.
“Walkman?” Toss.
“Sketchbook?” Keep.
“Jewelry box?” Toss.
“Bucket full of sea shells?” Toss
“An Antebellum dress?” Toss.
“A Spanish-American War uniform?” Was it hers? Virginia checked for the patched hole. Yes, it was indeed hers. Keep.
“Star Wars toy?” Toss
“Cheese grater?” Toss
“Alien costume?” Toss
“Chest of -”
Virginia gave the old wooden chest a puzzled stare. Just what has in this thing anyway? She didn’t remember putting this in here. Deftly, she pulled the chest out of the pile and set it down on the space clear of junk next to her. Fingers traced the unlocked clasp that held the lid down. She flipped it up and opened up the chest.
Inside was a uniform. Grey. Grey and torn and bloody....
Reply
It was all so close - this battle between her men and her father’s. Of course it was close, she was right there in the thick of it; she’d been rallying her men with a defiant rebel yell at her lips, leading the charge of Confederate troops. Those troops, exhausted, starving, defiant nonetheless, determined to drive the enemy who was their brother out of their home. Their determination made Virginia proud, and seeing their state proud of them made the men even more determined not to let this battle go any further south. With abandon they plunged into the battle against the Yankees. Virginia by their sides, encouraging them. Virginia in front of them, leading the glorious charge.
None of that mattered now, though. The cannons and muskets might as well have been pebbles dropping into the pond. The roar of battle was so distant. Everything was distant. Men seemed to silently move around her like she was encased in an invisible shell. Everything was a blur, the whole battle shifting and twisting like some mad painting of horrid grey and blue and brown and red. Everything really was right there, Virginia just couldn’t focus on it, so concerned she was with the task at hand.
Georgia was lying on the ground, bleeding, crying, screaming. Her gun next to her in the dirt, her grey uniform was torn and soaked in blood, most of it hers but some from Virginia’s own fresh wounds. Virginia did her best to stop the bleeding, but nothing she did could stop her dark haired sister’s shrieks.
“It hurts.” Georgia gasped, “It hurts so much.”
Virginia tried to block out Georgia pain filled words as she wrapped strips of cloth around her stomach. Virginia’s hands were unsteady, that artillery fire was still ringing in her ears, and she felt so weak. She quickly wiped her brow and looked up from where she was on the ground. It would take forever to reach the doctors back at the camp.
Georgia cried out again. Blood began to seep down her forehead
“Just stay still, alright?” Virginia said reassuringly, “You’re going to be fine.”
The younger sister managed move her head to stare at her elder with hollow, tired eyes. “I can’t do this anymore. It hurts so much.” she whispered.
“No!” Virginia bent down closer to her face. “Listen to me!” she said desperately, “You have to stay strong! We can still win this, we just have to hold out for a little while longer!”
Georgia’s tired eyes looked unbelievingly at her fellow Southern state.
“Remember what we’re fighting for!” Virginia pressed on, “Remember your people. They’re counting on you to stay strong!”
“Strong… I cant…”
Reply
“Georgia? Georgia!” she shrieked, “No! Stay awake! You need to stay awake.”
Was it really over? No! Virginia would not accept that! She grabbed Georgia’s shoulders and shook her unconscious body
“Please Georgia! Wake up!” Tears welled Virginia’s eyes. “You need to - I need you…”
“Virginia!”
The state in question looked up. The bubble that had isolated her from the raging battle was broken. War and death once again overwhelmed the leader of the Confederacy. But once again she ignored it all. The people in front of her grabbed all her attention.
Her brother Illinois, was the one who called her out. Disheveled clothes and uncombed brown hair did nothing to dampen the cold fire in his eyes. Next to him was Ohio, the red head state who seemed to relish the savagery of the war. California, her trademark loopy smile replaced with a grim frown and dirty face. Pennsylvania and Rhode Island, looking better than when she had last saw them. All of them were armed. All of them wore blue
In front of them all was her father, America. Her excitable and loud father, friendly if forceful. Her smiling, bespectacled father, with his warm embrace and thunderous laughter.
This was a different father. A worn out father whose laughter was hollow and smiles devoid of mirth. Not that he was smiling at the moment. In fact his face was expressionless, as if he was letting his children do all the emotional work for him. This wasn’t the father who had held her in his arms and thrown her into the air. This wasn’t the father who had thrown her huge birthday parties and boasted to all his friends about how she was such a responsible young lady. This was a father who had spent four years of civil war trying to bring eleven rebellious children back under his rule.
Eleven rebellious children that she was the leaders of.
Virginia grabbed her rifle and leaped up in front of Georgia. She aimed at her father. It wasn’t loaded but he didn’t know that.
Or maybe he did. He barely blinked at her movements and waved off her siblings as they moved to defend him. America did not raise his own weapon, he merely stared at Virginia as she struggled to keep the gun aimed straight in her unsteady hands.
“This war is over, Virginia.” He said.
Reply
America’s eye’s narrowed. “Look around you, Virginia! Your people are dying, I’ve already dragged some of your fellow rebels back into the Union. You’re going to kill yourself if you keep on resisting! Look at what you’ve done to Georgia!” he motioned to his other daughter on the ground.
“I don’t care!” she shouted, “We all feel the same way and we would rather die than be slaves to you!
“You really don’t understand the irony of what you just said, do you?” America said sadly. “You can’t keep fighting. You don’t have too. We can work this out, Virginia. Just come back me.”
He looked at her and his emotions finally showed. She could see the anguish and sorrow in his eyes.
“Please, just be my daughter again.”
Virginia almost lowered her rifle. There was sincerity in his words. And she was sick and tired of fighting her sibling. To be a family again, a whole family. Maybe, maybe…
No! The cause, stay loyal to the cause! You wanted freedom and you have to fight to get it! Everything has a price and you have to pays yours!
Virginia looked at her Union siblings and her father with renewed determination. She hefted the rifle and sprinted, bayonet flashing in the sun. America didn’t move. Fine with her.
Let him be noble, he’s too full of himself anyway.
Bayonet held firm. America not moving. Virginia closer with each step.
“Sic semper tyrannis!” she shouted as she thrust the weapon at his heart.
Virginia slammed the lid shut.
Oh. It was that chest. Virginia shook her head to dispel those memories. She was not going to dwell on that time so close to her birthday. No. No. No. No.
And yet… Something compelled Virginia. Sighing, sure she was going to hate herself later for this, she opened up the chest and looked back again into the memories of those dark days.
Reply
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