Swing Life Away - Chapter 1 (CPOV)
Chapter One. Featuring Cheshire's POV.
Each difficult moment has the potential to open my eyes and open my heart.
~
It was just another dreary Saturday afternoon in Cohasset Beach, at least it wasn't raining-anymore. The grass was still damp with the early morning shower the sky had left forth. But some kids began to emerge and were riding their bikes along the concrete. The mud proving to be too difficult to maneuver while it was still too damp. The birds began to chirp gently, as if shaking the water off their wings and coming to life.
The rain had been the entire reason he'd built a damn roof over his porches. He was sick of being stranded inside, only out when weather be willing. And it really seemed that the weather was never willing. Exhaling in a deep sigh, he slowly lifted his body off the old and creaky swing attached to the roof of his porch. His appearance hadn't changed too much. He'd bulked up a bit during the Navy and he was sure to keep up with working out. He wasn't going to let his muscles fade away. Or perhaps he just liked something to do, challenging himself with new tactics, work outs or more weights each time. Closing his eyes, he took a long drink from his near empty beer bottle. The clear container showing the amber liquid as it sloshed around before being swallowed. He ran a hand through his shaggy and absolutely messy black hair. It never seemed to allow itself to be tamed, and he never really bothered to make it. Leaning against the white porch railing, he looked even more uncharacteristically pale. But he couldn't help it, even the smallest sun tanned him right up.
Tilting his head to the side, groaning as a loud crack cut into the silence, he did the same to the other side. Setting his bottle down on the small table outside, and leaned back a bit, as if attempting to crack his back. It didn't budge, remaining as stubborn as he was. He could put a herd of donkeys to shame. Settling to just crack his knuckles, his muddy brownish eyes looked around. They seemed dark under this haze, but everyone swore they looked red when exposed to the right light. He even wore contacts some days, just to shut people up. And keep them from trying to observe his eyes reactions to light. He didn't like people looking at him for so long.. observing him in anyway.
Grabbing his beer from the table, he finished it off and headed inside, only closing the screen door behind him. He tossed the bottle into his recycling carelessly as he grabbed another bottle from the fridge, staring out his sliding glass back door. His backyard was fenced and he'd purposely put trees and plants around the fence, to keep people from being able to peer into his privacy. Popping the top of the beer into the sink, he moved into the living room. Flopping onto the sofa and turning the TV on. It was Saturday afternoon, he didn't expect to find a single thing to watch on TV. Finally just leaving it on some random criminal show, turning it down to just leave it as background noise more than anything. He wasn't interested in the bloody fingerprints that were found to prove ones guilt and another innocence. He didn't bother to listen to how grisly they described the apparent murder to be, merely by theory of course. He just looked around his 'home'.
It was a modest place, more than he needed really. But he couldn't be bothered to find another place. Or even deal with trying to sell the place. It wasn't in the best of shape, if it did sell, it wouldn't sell for enough to even pay six months rent on most apartments. It was two-stories, if you could call it that really. The second floor seemed to somehow be smaller than the first floor, but appeared almost as large from the outside. The paint of the outside was dull grey and peeling, he couldn't remember if it'd always been grey or just white that had faded from age. The floor was mostly bare, with second-rate, do-it yourself snap in wood tiles. He'd torn up the carpet one day in thoughts of replacing it. The wood tiles took much less work. His first floor consisted simply of the living room, which took most of one side of the house. A large LCD TV sat on an old glass table. On either side were shelves filled with various DVD's, most didn't even appear to have been opened. The furniture was modest and didn't match. An old, scuffed black leather La-Z-Boy chair, positioned to the right of the large and guady throw rug covering the spot of the floor he hadn't bothered to tile. The main sofa was a muddy green shade, big enough for three or four. It held an old and pretty broken pull out bed. To the other side, sat an odd piece of furniture, it looked new and well cared for. It was a simple armchair, with an ornate carved wood back and head piece. White material that looked soft covered the padded cushions of the chair. It looked like it was never used. Behind that chair said a large bay window, with a custom built window-seat. Which was yet to be finished, a large crimson curtain pulled to cover the window and unfinished project. Off to a side and almost seeming to be forgotten, an old wood door left to a half bath. It was cramped and held an old looking toilet, which was clean as it could get. With an old and drippy sink placed on the wall beside the toilet.
His kitchen was set off and behind the stairs and entry-way. It was a combination kitchen and dining area. He'd added an island in, since the space had seemed so open. And even managed to add a 'bar' like space near the fridge, which he'd actually managed to complete. The dining set was one of the other things that looked relatively new or at least not bought second hand. It was a simple redwood set, the table wasn't special or too large. Just a normal rectangle, with two chairs positioned on either side. The kitchen appliances were all fashionably stainless and the cupboards wood similar to the table. With plain black marble for counter tops. A small window was positioned over the sink, with a view into the plants he'd placed to grow and conceal the window. A door led into the garage which was attached and somewhat part of the house. It was big enough for one and a half cars. But it was more or less filled with shelves. Stacked with boxes and containers that were sealed and unlabeled. Along one wall was a white washer and dryer, with a small shelf of laundry things beside it. As well as two cupboards above, in a duller shade, they looked unfinished.
Upstais was nearly as unexciting as the rest of the house. The stairs were no-nonsense and led to a small landing which curved and led the rest of the way up. They were carpeted, if you could call it that. The carpet looked dull grey-brown, he just called it a gross cream and left it at that. The upstairs hall was still carpeted with old brown carpet, that was offending to bare feet. There were three rooms on this floor and what he heard many women call a 'linen closet'. Inside it held the usual suspects. Cleaning supplies, most with price tags and security seals still in place. A whole shelf was taken up by large and fluffy towels, of varying shades of red or blue. There was two whites that looked out of place amongst them. There were various other bits and bobs that he didn't seem to know where else to put them and had just shoved them inside. The room beside the closet was the bathroom, a blinding shade of white. It almost seemed sterile, despite his lack of cleaning supplies. The bathroom appeared shiny and spotless. From the shower with a sliding glass door to the white toilet and the sink nestled beside it. On either side of the bathroom, sat two rooms. They were empty, beyond bland painted walls and disgustingly bland carpet.
The final room, which was nestled on the first floor, towards the back of the house and against the garage, laid the master bedroom. It was the only room he'd really bothered to, customize it seemed. The door was made of redwood and appeared newer than any other door in the house. It was spacious, but perhaps it was because the room was so empty. It was carpeted with deep mahogany-red carpet. It was softer than the other carpet in the house, but still not the best. His bed was a king and pushed back up against the wall and in the corner. It was draped with many blankets, all in shades of red and black. With a white fitted sheet covering the mattress. Against one wall sat a simple desk, with a desktop computer and a black chair pushed in and under the desk. The window as covered with a thick black blanket, blocking out all sunlight. And the real lights themselves were dim and didn't seem to reach the rooms corners. His closet was small and he'd added a door that led into the garage recently. It wasn't an awesome home and most people in town made disgruntled faces at having to see the uncared for outer appearance, let alone did the know how much worse it looked inside.
He'd zoned out on the sofa for what must have been hours. The light outside had faded entirely. The only light being from the flickering TV screen, he hadn't turned his outside porch light on yet. After coming back to reality, and realizing he'd been there for longer than he could remember, he pulled himself to his feet. Pouring the now warm beer down his sink and tossing it into the recycling, before opening his fridge. The sight was the usual, empty despite some old take out containers, beer and what appeared to be far past due milk. He sighed and opened the freezer, frowning further. There was just ice accumulated over time, perhaps there was food buried under all the ice. But all he visibly saw was the vodka and rum tucked within. As well as the frozen juice pops on the freezer door shelf. He didn't even check the cupboards or pantry, he knew there was no food. He couldn't recall his last shopping trip, so he just ordered himself his third pizza that week.
After eating a few slices of the pizza, with near disinterest. He'd forgotten what toppings he'd ordered. And in his mindless haze, didn't even realize he'd eaten a small can of anchovies. A salty fish which he despised when it the right state of mind. Heaving a long sigh, he looked at the watch ticking at his wrist into the quiet room. The TV all but being muted. The watch alerted him it was nearly eleven o'clock. Which was fine, he didn't work the next morning, but he really felt no need to stay up beyond his usual bedtime. Shrugging, he lumbered to his feet, and trudged up the stairs.
The pizza lay forgotten still sitting on the TV table. The TV itself was still on, the blueish-white lights flickering eerily into the empty living and equally empty feeling home. After a quick shower, he came down still wearing only a towel. The water dripping off the tendrils of his black hair. He ignored the TV and pizza, and simply walked into his room. Closing the door far harder than he really needed to.
Discarding the towel, he scooped a pair of hopefully clean pajama pants from the floor and slipped them over his still lightly damp torso. Turning, his eyes fell on the pieces of metal twinkling in the faint light that filled the room. It had been almost a week since he'd worn his piercings. Shrugging, he simply placed them all back in their place in his face. Before falling onto his bed, barely wiggling under the covers before falling into an almost comatose state of sleep.
Next: Chapter Two
Each difficult moment has the potential to open my eyes and open my heart.
~
It was just another dreary Saturday afternoon in Cohasset Beach, at least it wasn't raining-anymore. The grass was still damp with the early morning shower the sky had left forth. But some kids began to emerge and were riding their bikes along the concrete. The mud proving to be too difficult to maneuver while it was still too damp. The birds began to chirp gently, as if shaking the water off their wings and coming to life.
The rain had been the entire reason he'd built a damn roof over his porches. He was sick of being stranded inside, only out when weather be willing. And it really seemed that the weather was never willing. Exhaling in a deep sigh, he slowly lifted his body off the old and creaky swing attached to the roof of his porch. His appearance hadn't changed too much. He'd bulked up a bit during the Navy and he was sure to keep up with working out. He wasn't going to let his muscles fade away. Or perhaps he just liked something to do, challenging himself with new tactics, work outs or more weights each time. Closing his eyes, he took a long drink from his near empty beer bottle. The clear container showing the amber liquid as it sloshed around before being swallowed. He ran a hand through his shaggy and absolutely messy black hair. It never seemed to allow itself to be tamed, and he never really bothered to make it. Leaning against the white porch railing, he looked even more uncharacteristically pale. But he couldn't help it, even the smallest sun tanned him right up.
Tilting his head to the side, groaning as a loud crack cut into the silence, he did the same to the other side. Setting his bottle down on the small table outside, and leaned back a bit, as if attempting to crack his back. It didn't budge, remaining as stubborn as he was. He could put a herd of donkeys to shame. Settling to just crack his knuckles, his muddy brownish eyes looked around. They seemed dark under this haze, but everyone swore they looked red when exposed to the right light. He even wore contacts some days, just to shut people up. And keep them from trying to observe his eyes reactions to light. He didn't like people looking at him for so long.. observing him in anyway.
Grabbing his beer from the table, he finished it off and headed inside, only closing the screen door behind him. He tossed the bottle into his recycling carelessly as he grabbed another bottle from the fridge, staring out his sliding glass back door. His backyard was fenced and he'd purposely put trees and plants around the fence, to keep people from being able to peer into his privacy. Popping the top of the beer into the sink, he moved into the living room. Flopping onto the sofa and turning the TV on. It was Saturday afternoon, he didn't expect to find a single thing to watch on TV. Finally just leaving it on some random criminal show, turning it down to just leave it as background noise more than anything. He wasn't interested in the bloody fingerprints that were found to prove ones guilt and another innocence. He didn't bother to listen to how grisly they described the apparent murder to be, merely by theory of course. He just looked around his 'home'.
It was a modest place, more than he needed really. But he couldn't be bothered to find another place. Or even deal with trying to sell the place. It wasn't in the best of shape, if it did sell, it wouldn't sell for enough to even pay six months rent on most apartments. It was two-stories, if you could call it that really. The second floor seemed to somehow be smaller than the first floor, but appeared almost as large from the outside. The paint of the outside was dull grey and peeling, he couldn't remember if it'd always been grey or just white that had faded from age. The floor was mostly bare, with second-rate, do-it yourself snap in wood tiles. He'd torn up the carpet one day in thoughts of replacing it. The wood tiles took much less work. His first floor consisted simply of the living room, which took most of one side of the house. A large LCD TV sat on an old glass table. On either side were shelves filled with various DVD's, most didn't even appear to have been opened. The furniture was modest and didn't match. An old, scuffed black leather La-Z-Boy chair, positioned to the right of the large and guady throw rug covering the spot of the floor he hadn't bothered to tile. The main sofa was a muddy green shade, big enough for three or four. It held an old and pretty broken pull out bed. To the other side, sat an odd piece of furniture, it looked new and well cared for. It was a simple armchair, with an ornate carved wood back and head piece. White material that looked soft covered the padded cushions of the chair. It looked like it was never used. Behind that chair said a large bay window, with a custom built window-seat. Which was yet to be finished, a large crimson curtain pulled to cover the window and unfinished project. Off to a side and almost seeming to be forgotten, an old wood door left to a half bath. It was cramped and held an old looking toilet, which was clean as it could get. With an old and drippy sink placed on the wall beside the toilet.
His kitchen was set off and behind the stairs and entry-way. It was a combination kitchen and dining area. He'd added an island in, since the space had seemed so open. And even managed to add a 'bar' like space near the fridge, which he'd actually managed to complete. The dining set was one of the other things that looked relatively new or at least not bought second hand. It was a simple redwood set, the table wasn't special or too large. Just a normal rectangle, with two chairs positioned on either side. The kitchen appliances were all fashionably stainless and the cupboards wood similar to the table. With plain black marble for counter tops. A small window was positioned over the sink, with a view into the plants he'd placed to grow and conceal the window. A door led into the garage which was attached and somewhat part of the house. It was big enough for one and a half cars. But it was more or less filled with shelves. Stacked with boxes and containers that were sealed and unlabeled. Along one wall was a white washer and dryer, with a small shelf of laundry things beside it. As well as two cupboards above, in a duller shade, they looked unfinished.
Upstais was nearly as unexciting as the rest of the house. The stairs were no-nonsense and led to a small landing which curved and led the rest of the way up. They were carpeted, if you could call it that. The carpet looked dull grey-brown, he just called it a gross cream and left it at that. The upstairs hall was still carpeted with old brown carpet, that was offending to bare feet. There were three rooms on this floor and what he heard many women call a 'linen closet'. Inside it held the usual suspects. Cleaning supplies, most with price tags and security seals still in place. A whole shelf was taken up by large and fluffy towels, of varying shades of red or blue. There was two whites that looked out of place amongst them. There were various other bits and bobs that he didn't seem to know where else to put them and had just shoved them inside. The room beside the closet was the bathroom, a blinding shade of white. It almost seemed sterile, despite his lack of cleaning supplies. The bathroom appeared shiny and spotless. From the shower with a sliding glass door to the white toilet and the sink nestled beside it. On either side of the bathroom, sat two rooms. They were empty, beyond bland painted walls and disgustingly bland carpet.
The final room, which was nestled on the first floor, towards the back of the house and against the garage, laid the master bedroom. It was the only room he'd really bothered to, customize it seemed. The door was made of redwood and appeared newer than any other door in the house. It was spacious, but perhaps it was because the room was so empty. It was carpeted with deep mahogany-red carpet. It was softer than the other carpet in the house, but still not the best. His bed was a king and pushed back up against the wall and in the corner. It was draped with many blankets, all in shades of red and black. With a white fitted sheet covering the mattress. Against one wall sat a simple desk, with a desktop computer and a black chair pushed in and under the desk. The window as covered with a thick black blanket, blocking out all sunlight. And the real lights themselves were dim and didn't seem to reach the rooms corners. His closet was small and he'd added a door that led into the garage recently. It wasn't an awesome home and most people in town made disgruntled faces at having to see the uncared for outer appearance, let alone did the know how much worse it looked inside.
He'd zoned out on the sofa for what must have been hours. The light outside had faded entirely. The only light being from the flickering TV screen, he hadn't turned his outside porch light on yet. After coming back to reality, and realizing he'd been there for longer than he could remember, he pulled himself to his feet. Pouring the now warm beer down his sink and tossing it into the recycling, before opening his fridge. The sight was the usual, empty despite some old take out containers, beer and what appeared to be far past due milk. He sighed and opened the freezer, frowning further. There was just ice accumulated over time, perhaps there was food buried under all the ice. But all he visibly saw was the vodka and rum tucked within. As well as the frozen juice pops on the freezer door shelf. He didn't even check the cupboards or pantry, he knew there was no food. He couldn't recall his last shopping trip, so he just ordered himself his third pizza that week.
After eating a few slices of the pizza, with near disinterest. He'd forgotten what toppings he'd ordered. And in his mindless haze, didn't even realize he'd eaten a small can of anchovies. A salty fish which he despised when it the right state of mind. Heaving a long sigh, he looked at the watch ticking at his wrist into the quiet room. The TV all but being muted. The watch alerted him it was nearly eleven o'clock. Which was fine, he didn't work the next morning, but he really felt no need to stay up beyond his usual bedtime. Shrugging, he lumbered to his feet, and trudged up the stairs.
The pizza lay forgotten still sitting on the TV table. The TV itself was still on, the blueish-white lights flickering eerily into the empty living and equally empty feeling home. After a quick shower, he came down still wearing only a towel. The water dripping off the tendrils of his black hair. He ignored the TV and pizza, and simply walked into his room. Closing the door far harder than he really needed to.
Discarding the towel, he scooped a pair of hopefully clean pajama pants from the floor and slipped them over his still lightly damp torso. Turning, his eyes fell on the pieces of metal twinkling in the faint light that filled the room. It had been almost a week since he'd worn his piercings. Shrugging, he simply placed them all back in their place in his face. Before falling onto his bed, barely wiggling under the covers before falling into an almost comatose state of sleep.
Next: Chapter Two