transcoding [1a/?]
anonymous
August 20 2010, 12:08:39 UTC
coto)
It starts with a bang.
It ends with a bang, and his head smashing into the pavement as he falls.
And Alfred is cold, cold, feeling dead to the world now-- falling into that state of unconsciousness for what feels like forever, but all of a sudden there are arms shaking him and shoving him and pushing him against the floor that he just wants to lie against. His head is spinning, mind reeling, stomach churning with slight nausea and he faintly feels the wet ground under his cheek, gravel scraping into his skin. (Is it raining?.) There are hands all over his body, people talking, yelling-- their voices meshing into one another like the bright lights being shined in his eyes and please, please just go away. Let him sleep in peace.
But this doesn't seem like sleep to Alfred, but something much stronger. The magnetic pull of darkness sucking him up and even the shaking and yelling of sirens and angered cops-- cops? why are there cops?-- cannot stop him.
So he sleeps.
Until they pull him back up and force him awake, force him into that small car and he smacks his head against the door and ow. But they don't care. They don't care.
transcoding [1b/?]
anonymous
August 20 2010, 12:09:28 UTC
stella)
Now they're yelling at Alfred-- newly turned eighteen-year-old Alfred, newly graduated Alfred, newly legal Alfred, and this is all extremely important because they have him in a police station, demanding to know where he stashed the gun.
"What gun?" Alfred slurrs, the words not being quite able to form on his lips because everything is so fuzzyand unclear. Where are his glasses? Maybe that's the reason he can't see well. His hand goes up to push his glasses up his nose, but there are two problems.
One, he isn't wearing his glasses.
Two, he's in handcuffs.
The fact alerts him, his mind clearing for a quick moment to swallow the dry lump in his throat and stare at his surroundings.
"W-what? Why am I here?" He looks around wildly, the actions turning his head into a shaky mess and all he wants is to be home.
Alfred doesn't even want to believe what they say next, as they tell him he has just murdered the mayor and his whole family and then ran, that they have the proof, they caught him redhanded. He tries to listen, tries to listen to every detail they give him, looking for the chance to say that they were wrong, that he was innocent and didn't have anything to do with it! But they don't believe him, staring him down in that horrifying way the justice system has sometimes and Alfred's ears start to have a faint ring, clogging with cotton and the room shifts.
The people continue to talk, and Alfred repeats his mantra of 'what? no, no, no, no. Not me.', as the room continues to shift between sharp and clear and gray and blurry. Alfred is swaying, the world feeling like it's slowing down and his head is pounding again, pounding harder than it was before, like it was trying to remind him in a hello, do not ignore me kind of way.
He focuses on a spot on the table, bangs going over his eyes and shading his face. It seems to sway with him, and the voices have nearly been drowned out by the complete sound of ringing and nothingness, so much that he doesn't notice when they stop talking to stare at him. One of them asks if he's been doing any drugs lately, and Alfred just slowly shakes his head--
--but the world jerks sideways and all of a sudden he's on the sprawled on the floor and he's finally, finally passed out.
transcoding [1c/?]
anonymous
August 20 2010, 12:11:07 UTC
rabbit's quartet)
It's a few days later that he wakes up with enough sense to form a complete sentence, and he gets a quick moment with his father before the police come in to get answers.
"Dad, I swea-" Alfred's already near tears as he sees the tired, stressed look on his father's face.
"I know, Alfred." Alfred's breath hitches in his chest, because he is "Alfred", not "Al" or "son" right now, Not when he wants to be. "Just... answer the men. Tell them everything. I've got you a lawyer, but this is a public scare. It's all over the news, and--... And well. You're the only suspect they've got."
Alfred wants to get out of the bed, wants to go to his father to tell him no no no they've got the wrong person it wasn't me but his arm jerks in resistence. They've handcuffed him to the hospital bed. Alfred closes his eyes with a tired sigh, and leans back into the bed. He and his father share a few more parting words, but it's a tense, trivial matter to what comes up next.
---
It's nearly a month later til Alfred F. Jones, is sentenced to life in prison on the charge of murder.
Re: transcoding [1b/?]
anonymous
August 20 2010, 12:15:33 UTC
I'd imagine it would seem like his doing drug (thank godness for drug tests an-wait nevermind these cops seems pretty corrupt) with his loopy movements!
oh pooooor pooor guy;A;
That being said you HAVE NO IDEA how much I love you for filling this with such well written chapters! No really I do here have internetz and cyber!cookies >.<
It starts with a bang.
It ends with a bang, and his head smashing into the pavement as he falls.
And Alfred is cold, cold, feeling dead to the world now-- falling into that state of unconsciousness for what feels like forever, but all of a sudden there are arms shaking him and shoving him and pushing him against the floor that he just wants to lie against. His head is spinning, mind reeling, stomach churning with slight nausea and he faintly feels the wet ground under his cheek, gravel scraping into his skin. (Is it raining?.) There are hands all over his body, people talking, yelling-- their voices meshing into one another like the bright lights being shined in his eyes and please, please just go away. Let him sleep in peace.
But this doesn't seem like sleep to Alfred, but something much stronger. The magnetic pull of darkness sucking him up and even the shaking and yelling of sirens and angered cops-- cops? why are there cops?-- cannot stop him.
So he sleeps.
Until they pull him back up and force him awake, force him into that small car and he smacks his head against the door and ow. But they don't care. They don't care.
Reply
Now they're yelling at Alfred-- newly turned eighteen-year-old Alfred, newly graduated Alfred, newly legal Alfred, and this is all extremely important because they have him in a police station, demanding to know where he stashed the gun.
"What gun?" Alfred slurrs, the words not being quite able to form on his lips because everything is so fuzzyand unclear. Where are his glasses? Maybe that's the reason he can't see well. His hand goes up to push his glasses up his nose, but there are two problems.
One, he isn't wearing his glasses.
Two, he's in handcuffs.
The fact alerts him, his mind clearing for a quick moment to swallow the dry lump in his throat and stare at his surroundings.
"W-what? Why am I here?" He looks around wildly, the actions turning his head into a shaky mess and all he wants is to be home.
Alfred doesn't even want to believe what they say next, as they tell him he has just murdered the mayor and his whole family and then ran, that they have the proof, they caught him redhanded. He tries to listen, tries to listen to every detail they give him, looking for the chance to say that they were wrong, that he was innocent and didn't have anything to do with it! But they don't believe him, staring him down in that horrifying way the justice system has sometimes and Alfred's ears start to have a faint ring, clogging with cotton and the room shifts.
The people continue to talk, and Alfred repeats his mantra of 'what? no, no, no, no. Not me.', as the room continues to shift between sharp and clear and gray and blurry. Alfred is swaying, the world feeling like it's slowing down and his head is pounding again, pounding harder than it was before, like it was trying to remind him in a hello, do not ignore me kind of way.
He focuses on a spot on the table, bangs going over his eyes and shading his face. It seems to sway with him, and the voices have nearly been drowned out by the complete sound of ringing and nothingness, so much that he doesn't notice when they stop talking to stare at him. One of them asks if he's been doing any drugs lately, and Alfred just slowly shakes his head--
--but the world jerks sideways and all of a sudden he's on the sprawled on the floor and he's finally, finally passed out.
Reply
It's a few days later that he wakes up with enough sense to form a complete sentence, and he gets a quick moment with his father before the police come in to get answers.
"Dad, I swea-" Alfred's already near tears as he sees the tired, stressed look on his father's face.
"I know, Alfred." Alfred's breath hitches in his chest, because he is "Alfred", not "Al" or "son" right now, Not when he wants to be. "Just... answer the men. Tell them everything. I've got you a lawyer, but this is a public scare. It's all over the news, and--... And well. You're the only suspect they've got."
Alfred wants to get out of the bed, wants to go to his father to tell him no no no they've got the wrong person it wasn't me but his arm jerks in resistence. They've handcuffed him to the hospital bed. Alfred closes his eyes with a tired sigh, and leans back into the bed. He and his father share a few more parting words, but it's a tense, trivial matter to what comes up next.
---
It's nearly a month later til Alfred F. Jones, is sentenced to life in prison on the charge of murder.
Reply
...He was set up wasn't he? ;A; Oh Alfred! I blame the Italys mob /gansters
Reply
oh pooooor pooor guy;A;
That being said you HAVE NO IDEA how much I love you for filling this with such well written chapters! No really I do here have internetz and cyber!cookies >.<
Reply
Leave a comment