Gathering Post at the Winchester
I heard the first crunch before I saw anything. A faint resistance under my boot, a pop and then a give, and my eyes dropped to the floor. I froze there, hand on the doorknob, and now I can’t breathe.
It’s cold out. Getting colder. There’s a pile of blankets and coats hauled in on Tom’s ATV waiting on the porch and I can’t move. People are running ‘round frantic by now - it looks like snow, and there’s shit to do. I’m a fucking grown up. Mr. fuckin’ Responsible. There’ll be people comin’ in soon, for food, for a place to wait out the brewing storm, and right now…
Right now… My boots crunch over the kaleidoscope scatter of sugar cereal and I grab the broom hidden in the back closet. There’s no one in here, but I can’t decide if I wanna laugh or cry or fuckin’ throw a goddamn chair through the window while I sweep up the mess. My hands keep slipping on the broom handle. They’re sweaty, they’re shaking, and if I close my eyes, I can almost taste him on my tongue.
There are people coming, I can hear voices down the path now, and I scramble to get the evidence thrown away before there’s a crowd. The first few trickle in and I’m still on my knees, still picking fuckin’ cocoa krispies outta the floorboards.
I toss it all in the garbage, and that’s that. It’s over, or I tell myself it is. I push all the chairs in, move some of the tables to leave more floor space. I close up all the windows tight and I get a small fire going in the hearth. I smoke a cigarette before there are too many little kids around. Then, I sit myself at the bar with one of the Nehi sodas I found conveniently stashed in the cooler, and I listen to the wind beating against the sides of the bar - my bar, and wave the people inside … this place I’ve made as warm and safe as I can, with as friendly a smile as I can manage.
A storm’s coming. Hell, it’s already here.
[[The post starts out during the shift change between lunch and dinner (around 2:30 pm), but tags can be timed all through the storm tonight. This gathering post is open at ALL who might be in the area seeking refuge. In addition to the inventories listed here, and the stocked pantry and coolers, they have plenty of blankets and extra coats, if your pups needs them. You're welcome to stop by and grab food on your way home, too, but realize that once the snow gets deep, your pup'll probably be stuck at least through the morning.
As for Neil's item: Feel free to come in while he's still cleaning up the mess (it's a scatter of fruit loops and other cereal all over the Winchester's floor), but unless he really trusts you, he probably won't answer any questions about it.
Tag Neil, tag each other. New toplevel's accepted all through the weekend.]]
It’s cold out. Getting colder. There’s a pile of blankets and coats hauled in on Tom’s ATV waiting on the porch and I can’t move. People are running ‘round frantic by now - it looks like snow, and there’s shit to do. I’m a fucking grown up. Mr. fuckin’ Responsible. There’ll be people comin’ in soon, for food, for a place to wait out the brewing storm, and right now…
Right now… My boots crunch over the kaleidoscope scatter of sugar cereal and I grab the broom hidden in the back closet. There’s no one in here, but I can’t decide if I wanna laugh or cry or fuckin’ throw a goddamn chair through the window while I sweep up the mess. My hands keep slipping on the broom handle. They’re sweaty, they’re shaking, and if I close my eyes, I can almost taste him on my tongue.
There are people coming, I can hear voices down the path now, and I scramble to get the evidence thrown away before there’s a crowd. The first few trickle in and I’m still on my knees, still picking fuckin’ cocoa krispies outta the floorboards.
I toss it all in the garbage, and that’s that. It’s over, or I tell myself it is. I push all the chairs in, move some of the tables to leave more floor space. I close up all the windows tight and I get a small fire going in the hearth. I smoke a cigarette before there are too many little kids around. Then, I sit myself at the bar with one of the Nehi sodas I found conveniently stashed in the cooler, and I listen to the wind beating against the sides of the bar - my bar, and wave the people inside … this place I’ve made as warm and safe as I can, with as friendly a smile as I can manage.
A storm’s coming. Hell, it’s already here.
[[The post starts out during the shift change between lunch and dinner (around 2:30 pm), but tags can be timed all through the storm tonight. This gathering post is open at ALL who might be in the area seeking refuge. In addition to the inventories listed here, and the stocked pantry and coolers, they have plenty of blankets and extra coats, if your pups needs them. You're welcome to stop by and grab food on your way home, too, but realize that once the snow gets deep, your pup'll probably be stuck at least through the morning.
As for Neil's item: Feel free to come in while he's still cleaning up the mess (it's a scatter of fruit loops and other cereal all over the Winchester's floor), but unless he really trusts you, he probably won't answer any questions about it.
Tag Neil, tag each other. New toplevel's accepted all through the weekend.]]