(no subject)
Tunnels (draft continued)
Sam
1.
Megan and Sam escaped through their bedroom windows.
2.
Sam had spent the entire morning digging out a tunnel in the snow, shovelling white powder into his room through the window. His parents had not noticed. They were sleeping in the sofa three doors down the hall, in front of the telly.
Dawn came late this time of the year, but Sam had not slept at all. When the flashlight messages from Megan stopped sometime around 3 AM he had turned on one of his favourite records, crawled up into his bed and looked at the stars. There were fewer stars these days, the teacher had told him in class. The stars fell, and as they did, entire worlds died. Or at least they could; mrs. Spriggins did not fancy the thought of alien life and certainly not something as awful as Star Trek or The X-files. Made up nonsense that only corrupted the youth, according to the lady in the red cardigan.
Sam liked the thought of things ending. Maybe not worlds, but things. Things like television shows. His parents had been sleeping for almost twenty hours now, locked in some kind of shallow dream in front of the television. It had shown static when he came down around midnight, but some kind of muzak had been flowing from the speakers still. His parents had fallen asleep somewhere between sitting up and lying down, as if they had not been able to decide.
Sam had looked for the remote but he could not find it. The small table in front of the newly bought television was covered with magazines, most of them about fame and glamour. At least Sam thought so. Here and there, the TV Guides of the past weeks lay like derelicts, torn and bruised, like an old and very much loved book. The funny thing was, Sam could not remember ever seeing his parents actually reading the damn things, but then again, he spent quite little time with them. Even less now that they had gotten a new, bigger and more sophisticated screen to watch.
Sam thought about cutting the power to the damn thing when his father had woken up, mumbled something about hamsters and pulled the remote from underneath his wife, Sams mother. She did not move a muscle as he pushed a button, not even when the loud cracking of fireworks burst from the giant speakers. Fireworks or gunfire, Sam could not tell. It just sounded very real, and he wanted to get away from it.
His fathers body fell back into the sofa, and as Sam went out into the kitchen to get something to eat (both for now and later) he saw his father hiding the remote underneath Sams mother’s giant thigh. She opened her eyes then, and continued watching.
When Sam came back ten minutes later, his parents were sleeping again. But Sam knew better. They were watching through their eyelids. Their eyes were moving, and he knew it couldn't be from sleep. No rapid eye movement here.
Somewhere in the distant that was outside, an outside that meant freedom, some sort of animal howled. It sounded desolate yet reassuring. Sam found it soothing somehow, and he longed for the morning when he could see Megan again.
Sam went into his room and packed his backpack with warm clothes, crackers and soda. Then he turned on his flashlight and aimed it at Megans window, across the yard. The light flickered across the neighborhood walls and fell upon the glass, and soon he saw her silhouette, out of reach but close still.
The streetlights had gone out last night, and no one from the electric company had come to fix them. The snow walls along the side of the road were high, much too high, and some of the older kids from down the block had tried to climb the power lines. Sam never bothered to see if they made it.
The boy who was called Sam by everyone except Lucas, the school bully (Samantha! SAMaaaantha!!) settled down in his room, looked to the sky and saw worlds ending. The night was bright in the glare of the full moon, but he did not notice. He closed his eyes and dreamt in a shallow and sleepless way (not much unlike his parents); he dreamt of Megan and he dreamt of his parents and he dreamt that soon things would end.
They would change.
3.
The blizzard had struck without warning. In fact, it was an outright ice storm, the kind that kills. Freezing rain came first, then the snow fell. There had been reports on the news first, saying the power pylons were falling alongside the trees from the weight of the ice massing everywhere. Cattle farmers far from the city had lost power early on, crying out in desperation for help on the nine o' clock news. Sam didn't know what had happened to the old man with ice in his beard and a grey old parka - they had lost the power themselves fo the first time right then. He felt sorry for the man who had been crying, and he felt sorry for the pigs. He had been a pig farmer, and now they were freezing to death. His father had laughed out, saying something about ready frozen pork and his mother had joined in. Sam just ran up the stairs and, looking out at the white and the dark, wished for something else. And it came, sure as hell for the sinners. The change came, and dark clouds brought it. Looking at the rain freezing on his windowsill, Sam thought of Dylan and then of Megan.
Later on, his mom came up with dinner and a lit candle. He had fallen asleep, back against the wall, a flashlight lit in his lap. She had turned it off, stroked his hair and gone downstairs. He had woken, but pretended sleeping. Sam liked the way his mother smelled, the way she stroked his head with warm yet stiff fingers. She was not a bad person, she had just married the wrong man. And after Dylan, Sam knew he couldn't stay.
So he opened his eyes when his mother walked down the stairs, looked at the plate she had left, and started crying. He cried for what he was about to do, for his family, for Megan. Megan. She was the only one who still meant something.
Thinking of what lay ahead, he had started eating. Then he had called her, listening to the signals and waiting for an answer, but nothing came. Across the yard, through the ice covered window, he saw the lights go out in her parent's house, and then the line went dead.
The power went out now and then, but never for more than a few hours at the time. The house was well isolated, so it never really got cold. After the first night, it was obvious something was not right, but when consulting his parents he found that there was nothing to worry about, the men with yellow working helmets would be around soon and fix everything. His father pointed out that he was a good tax payer and had been so for more than forty years, and since there was lots of food in the fridge and there was no work to go to during such harsh times, he might aswell sit this one out and watch the telly whilst someone else dug the house out. Sam hadn't really understood what the problem was until he had tried the door.
It wouldn't budge. It was cold to the touch, and when he tried opening the mail hatch snow fell in on the welcoming carpet that read "Does it offend you?!". His parents were a bit odd, he had admitted that a long time ago.
The snowed in situation proved to be an opportunity of sorts. Sam had waited for a chance to leave, to go somewhere with Megan. They had talked about it for such a long time, and nowadays Megan looked so sad when he met her. She never talked about how things were at home, but Sam could imagine it.
Sometimes she came over to his place. They used to sit on his bed, talking but seldom laughing. Sometimes they kissed. Most of the time he just looked at her, and she looked back, eyes sad yet sparkling at the same time. And he would kiss her again. He didn't know if it was love or just a need of some sort, but none of that mattered. It was them against the world. They were certain of that. At least he was. And her lips were soft and her skin was warm and they would look at the stars and speak of another now, lost in hopes and dreams.
Megan
4.
The cellar door was open, she realised.
Down in the cellar time did not exist, it had been her haven since she was a little kid. Her brother, Tom, had built them a small shelter down here, using old boards and quilts no one wanted any more. They had hid inside, curling up together and listened to the wind blowing outside. When the screaming got too loud from up above, Tom had held her like only a big brother could and told her about old wars and stuff he had read about in school. The french revolution was his favourite with decapitations and the Scarlet Pimpernel and such things. When things had gotten worse, they had stayed downstairs until the sun went down, and eventually Tom had named their home made shelter the Oubliette. Megan had never dared ask what it meant, but it sounded creepy.
That had been a long time ago, and Megan opened her eyes to find that the noise had settled and that the door was open. The floor was damp, but she was used to it. She tip toed over the cold stone paving towards the flicker coming from outside the room. Some lightbulb that needed changing. Tom used to fix those things, before he went away. Her parents had made it sound as if it was her fault that he left, and she had cried and hid in the cellar for days. No one had come to see if she was alright.
Megan wanted to leave.
And then she met Sam, and he changed everything.
Sam
1.
Megan and Sam escaped through their bedroom windows.
2.
Sam had spent the entire morning digging out a tunnel in the snow, shovelling white powder into his room through the window. His parents had not noticed. They were sleeping in the sofa three doors down the hall, in front of the telly.
Dawn came late this time of the year, but Sam had not slept at all. When the flashlight messages from Megan stopped sometime around 3 AM he had turned on one of his favourite records, crawled up into his bed and looked at the stars. There were fewer stars these days, the teacher had told him in class. The stars fell, and as they did, entire worlds died. Or at least they could; mrs. Spriggins did not fancy the thought of alien life and certainly not something as awful as Star Trek or The X-files. Made up nonsense that only corrupted the youth, according to the lady in the red cardigan.
Sam liked the thought of things ending. Maybe not worlds, but things. Things like television shows. His parents had been sleeping for almost twenty hours now, locked in some kind of shallow dream in front of the television. It had shown static when he came down around midnight, but some kind of muzak had been flowing from the speakers still. His parents had fallen asleep somewhere between sitting up and lying down, as if they had not been able to decide.
Sam had looked for the remote but he could not find it. The small table in front of the newly bought television was covered with magazines, most of them about fame and glamour. At least Sam thought so. Here and there, the TV Guides of the past weeks lay like derelicts, torn and bruised, like an old and very much loved book. The funny thing was, Sam could not remember ever seeing his parents actually reading the damn things, but then again, he spent quite little time with them. Even less now that they had gotten a new, bigger and more sophisticated screen to watch.
Sam thought about cutting the power to the damn thing when his father had woken up, mumbled something about hamsters and pulled the remote from underneath his wife, Sams mother. She did not move a muscle as he pushed a button, not even when the loud cracking of fireworks burst from the giant speakers. Fireworks or gunfire, Sam could not tell. It just sounded very real, and he wanted to get away from it.
His fathers body fell back into the sofa, and as Sam went out into the kitchen to get something to eat (both for now and later) he saw his father hiding the remote underneath Sams mother’s giant thigh. She opened her eyes then, and continued watching.
When Sam came back ten minutes later, his parents were sleeping again. But Sam knew better. They were watching through their eyelids. Their eyes were moving, and he knew it couldn't be from sleep. No rapid eye movement here.
Somewhere in the distant that was outside, an outside that meant freedom, some sort of animal howled. It sounded desolate yet reassuring. Sam found it soothing somehow, and he longed for the morning when he could see Megan again.
Sam went into his room and packed his backpack with warm clothes, crackers and soda. Then he turned on his flashlight and aimed it at Megans window, across the yard. The light flickered across the neighborhood walls and fell upon the glass, and soon he saw her silhouette, out of reach but close still.
The streetlights had gone out last night, and no one from the electric company had come to fix them. The snow walls along the side of the road were high, much too high, and some of the older kids from down the block had tried to climb the power lines. Sam never bothered to see if they made it.
The boy who was called Sam by everyone except Lucas, the school bully (Samantha! SAMaaaantha!!) settled down in his room, looked to the sky and saw worlds ending. The night was bright in the glare of the full moon, but he did not notice. He closed his eyes and dreamt in a shallow and sleepless way (not much unlike his parents); he dreamt of Megan and he dreamt of his parents and he dreamt that soon things would end.
They would change.
3.
The blizzard had struck without warning. In fact, it was an outright ice storm, the kind that kills. Freezing rain came first, then the snow fell. There had been reports on the news first, saying the power pylons were falling alongside the trees from the weight of the ice massing everywhere. Cattle farmers far from the city had lost power early on, crying out in desperation for help on the nine o' clock news. Sam didn't know what had happened to the old man with ice in his beard and a grey old parka - they had lost the power themselves fo the first time right then. He felt sorry for the man who had been crying, and he felt sorry for the pigs. He had been a pig farmer, and now they were freezing to death. His father had laughed out, saying something about ready frozen pork and his mother had joined in. Sam just ran up the stairs and, looking out at the white and the dark, wished for something else. And it came, sure as hell for the sinners. The change came, and dark clouds brought it. Looking at the rain freezing on his windowsill, Sam thought of Dylan and then of Megan.
Later on, his mom came up with dinner and a lit candle. He had fallen asleep, back against the wall, a flashlight lit in his lap. She had turned it off, stroked his hair and gone downstairs. He had woken, but pretended sleeping. Sam liked the way his mother smelled, the way she stroked his head with warm yet stiff fingers. She was not a bad person, she had just married the wrong man. And after Dylan, Sam knew he couldn't stay.
So he opened his eyes when his mother walked down the stairs, looked at the plate she had left, and started crying. He cried for what he was about to do, for his family, for Megan. Megan. She was the only one who still meant something.
Thinking of what lay ahead, he had started eating. Then he had called her, listening to the signals and waiting for an answer, but nothing came. Across the yard, through the ice covered window, he saw the lights go out in her parent's house, and then the line went dead.
The power went out now and then, but never for more than a few hours at the time. The house was well isolated, so it never really got cold. After the first night, it was obvious something was not right, but when consulting his parents he found that there was nothing to worry about, the men with yellow working helmets would be around soon and fix everything. His father pointed out that he was a good tax payer and had been so for more than forty years, and since there was lots of food in the fridge and there was no work to go to during such harsh times, he might aswell sit this one out and watch the telly whilst someone else dug the house out. Sam hadn't really understood what the problem was until he had tried the door.
It wouldn't budge. It was cold to the touch, and when he tried opening the mail hatch snow fell in on the welcoming carpet that read "Does it offend you?!". His parents were a bit odd, he had admitted that a long time ago.
The snowed in situation proved to be an opportunity of sorts. Sam had waited for a chance to leave, to go somewhere with Megan. They had talked about it for such a long time, and nowadays Megan looked so sad when he met her. She never talked about how things were at home, but Sam could imagine it.
Sometimes she came over to his place. They used to sit on his bed, talking but seldom laughing. Sometimes they kissed. Most of the time he just looked at her, and she looked back, eyes sad yet sparkling at the same time. And he would kiss her again. He didn't know if it was love or just a need of some sort, but none of that mattered. It was them against the world. They were certain of that. At least he was. And her lips were soft and her skin was warm and they would look at the stars and speak of another now, lost in hopes and dreams.
Megan
4.
The cellar door was open, she realised.
Down in the cellar time did not exist, it had been her haven since she was a little kid. Her brother, Tom, had built them a small shelter down here, using old boards and quilts no one wanted any more. They had hid inside, curling up together and listened to the wind blowing outside. When the screaming got too loud from up above, Tom had held her like only a big brother could and told her about old wars and stuff he had read about in school. The french revolution was his favourite with decapitations and the Scarlet Pimpernel and such things. When things had gotten worse, they had stayed downstairs until the sun went down, and eventually Tom had named their home made shelter the Oubliette. Megan had never dared ask what it meant, but it sounded creepy.
That had been a long time ago, and Megan opened her eyes to find that the noise had settled and that the door was open. The floor was damp, but she was used to it. She tip toed over the cold stone paving towards the flicker coming from outside the room. Some lightbulb that needed changing. Tom used to fix those things, before he went away. Her parents had made it sound as if it was her fault that he left, and she had cried and hid in the cellar for days. No one had come to see if she was alright.
Megan wanted to leave.
And then she met Sam, and he changed everything.