(no subject)
Finally finished something I've started. How's that for unbelievable?
Title: The Contract
Author: moi...Erynn
Rating: PG
Genre: alt-universe/original
Summary: Everyone has to grow up, everyone has to.
The men come in the night with crisp black suits and fine 50’s style door-to-door salesmen hats. A thin black tie runs down the white button down shirt and ties the collar tightly closed. Their briefcases are black leather, not fine Italian, but something a working class father of three could afford at a department store. The shoes are polished despite their constant walking and wearing and sometimes chasing.
Chasing. Chasing the ones that refuse to sign the all important document. Chasing the ones that just won’t close off a chapter in their lives. Chasing the ones that are too scared to sign that four page contract.
The men don’t take their hats off, even in the presence of women or walking into the home of a dignitary. The houses usually offer dim light since the sleepy residents and future contract-signers don’t have the energy in them to turn on many lamps or flick too many switches. The faces of the men are shielded in shadows from the brim of their hats and the weary lighting.
Even in the houses of those soon-to-be adults who leave their lights on through the night, giving off enough glow to let light drip out of windows, the men are still kept locked in the shadows of their brimmed hats. Those are the houses where the resident is one who tends to party through the night in their shabby spaces or opulent mansions high in the hills of a trendy little night-life city, making interesting choices in the name of youth.
These men scare those owners the most. Those are usually the owners that run from the men; take off down a hallway or down a street. Those are usually the owners that cry and shake when the men slip a pen between their fingers, when their eyes brush tearfully over the words that lock the door on their past lives forever. Those are the ones that try to lift and throw the papers back in the faces of the shadowed men, but find that the four pages of the contract are heavier than even four hundred bricks. Those are the ones that find that those four pages are indestructible and cannot, will not, be torn or torched.
While some hold the pen in their hand and tremble with fear and anger, they call out to the men with quaking voices, “Why are you doing this to me? Why me?”
The men stand above them. “This is growing up. This is not a choice. This is not about you,” the men say in strong voices. Although their face is cloaked in shadow, they truly show no emotion either way. “This is growing up.
For these men, their job is simply that, a job. They have not been chosen for the tasks they perform at night and they did not choose the tasks either. They have no names, no family, no history. They never speak unless they must, unless they have to answer questions like “why me”. They will catch those who run and they will always get that night’s case to sign on the dotted line and initial where needed. They breathe like all other humans and they are indeed humans, but they are also the monsters hiding under the bed. They are the things that go bump in the night. They are the creatures that are feared most by children.
The men see all different kinds of people and by the time the night is done, they have visited the rich and the poor, the beautiful and the ugly, the sick and the well, the mothers and the fathers, the dying and the newly born, and most importantly the old and the young.
The young are the ones that don’t expect the men to make a visit to them in the middle of the night. They are the ones that sometimes put up the biggest fight and the ones that sometimes don’t deserve what they are forced to sign. They are the ones that lost a father or had a baby in high school or happened to be born with AIDS. They are the ones that made a mistake themselves and the ones that had a mistake forced upon them when they were brought into the world.
Sometimes, the men visit the young and have to explain to them what it means to sign the contract. They children don’t have an option of signing away their childhoods, but they have obligations now. They have to earn money, steal or work; they have to take care of someone, a sick family member or themselves; and sometimes they have to come to grips with death, a family member’s or theirs.
The children don’t exactly understand what they’re signing, though, and some of them grow up with a lot of problems they can’t escape. Sometimes they grow up just fine and come out ahead. Sometimes they die or die inside. The children don’t always make it, their futures are never guaranteed.
Actually, the others don’t always make it either. They are called ‘the others’ because while they are adults by law or culture, they haven’t signed the contract. They need to sign the contract before they can be considered an adult. They need to sign the contract.
The others have different reactions. Some of them come out fighting. Some of them are too tired to fight. Some of them are more than happy to sign.
The ones that come out fighting are usually the ones that always have fought since they were children themselves and they’ve constantly walked a thin line between adult and child. They thought they had a nice balance in their lives, but the men say they can’t have both. The men say they must sign. Those are the ones that run and try to destroy and nullify the four pages. They don’t understand why they were chosen to sign the contract.
The men say, “This is growing up. This is not a choice. This is not about you. This is growing up.” With that they take the pen in their hand and sign away their childhood. The pen shakes as it glides across the sheet. It initials this paragraph and that paragraph. It signs on the dotted line a perfect signature despite the minor seizure in the signer’s hand. The signer stares at the contract for a moment, crying still, and the man picks it up with ease and sets it safely in his briefcase.
There are the party-people that have let the blue veins in their arms disappear with needles and drugs. They are the people that have gotten sick in the mornings from a night they will never remember. They are the people that haven’t slept in weeks because they knew the men were coming and they wanted to get the rest of their childhood out of them before the men set the contract in front of them.
The men walk into the homes and open their briefcase on a table. They pull the contract out and set it down in front of the signer. They set a fine black pen down atop the contract. The signer reaches slowly for the pen and initials, signs, and shows the man the door. They think nothing of it; it’s just something they need to do. Whether they’ll stop partying or not, they know they’ll have more responsibilities and more people that are counting on them. And with those responsibilities and people under their influence, they will see the consequences of any and all actions they make.
There are the ones that stand at the door, night after night praying for the men to come. They are a rare breed and they don’t often show up. They have no striking characteristics. They don’t party too much to walk the line of adulthood and childhood. Sometimes they’re over achievers. Sometimes they’re trying to get out of a funk. Sometimes they’re dying. Sometimes they’re just starting to live.
The men are greeted with a smiling face when the signer opens the door, something they don’t see on a normal nightly basis. They walk in, pull the contract out, and set the pen down. The signer grabs it readily and needs no instruction on which paragraphs to initial. The signer asks no questions and says a simple ‘thank-you’ when the man picks the contract up and closes his briefcase. The man is escorted to the door and is thanked once again by the new adult.
Those are the adults that are the best adjusted. They knew it was coming, they didn’t try to avoid it or run from it or squeeze whatever youth and energy was left in their childhood out onto a few days or weeks. They knew it was coming, they knew the contract was an inevitable part of life.
The men never make a second visit to the same house to enforce the policies of the contract. The contract enforces itself. If the new adult fails to follow part of the contract, it will work itself out. The law enforcement will help the contract work. Society will help the contract work. The natural progression of things forces consequences and guidelines onto the new adult and before long everything will be back on balance. Everything always falls back in balance.
The contract is all about balance, too. The contract keeps society running and keeps the people in equilibrium. For every child, there is an adult. For every adult there is a contract and for every contract there is a man in a black suit with a stiff black hat.
The men know the world cannot function properly without a balance, without the contract. The men know this and they work hard to keep this balance. Some of the new adults think the men have ruined their life. The men don’t ruin lives, they just move them forward.
------
So...what do you think?
Title: The Contract
Author: moi...Erynn
Rating: PG
Genre: alt-universe/original
Summary: Everyone has to grow up, everyone has to.
The men come in the night with crisp black suits and fine 50’s style door-to-door salesmen hats. A thin black tie runs down the white button down shirt and ties the collar tightly closed. Their briefcases are black leather, not fine Italian, but something a working class father of three could afford at a department store. The shoes are polished despite their constant walking and wearing and sometimes chasing.
Chasing. Chasing the ones that refuse to sign the all important document. Chasing the ones that just won’t close off a chapter in their lives. Chasing the ones that are too scared to sign that four page contract.
The men don’t take their hats off, even in the presence of women or walking into the home of a dignitary. The houses usually offer dim light since the sleepy residents and future contract-signers don’t have the energy in them to turn on many lamps or flick too many switches. The faces of the men are shielded in shadows from the brim of their hats and the weary lighting.
Even in the houses of those soon-to-be adults who leave their lights on through the night, giving off enough glow to let light drip out of windows, the men are still kept locked in the shadows of their brimmed hats. Those are the houses where the resident is one who tends to party through the night in their shabby spaces or opulent mansions high in the hills of a trendy little night-life city, making interesting choices in the name of youth.
These men scare those owners the most. Those are usually the owners that run from the men; take off down a hallway or down a street. Those are usually the owners that cry and shake when the men slip a pen between their fingers, when their eyes brush tearfully over the words that lock the door on their past lives forever. Those are the ones that try to lift and throw the papers back in the faces of the shadowed men, but find that the four pages of the contract are heavier than even four hundred bricks. Those are the ones that find that those four pages are indestructible and cannot, will not, be torn or torched.
While some hold the pen in their hand and tremble with fear and anger, they call out to the men with quaking voices, “Why are you doing this to me? Why me?”
The men stand above them. “This is growing up. This is not a choice. This is not about you,” the men say in strong voices. Although their face is cloaked in shadow, they truly show no emotion either way. “This is growing up.
For these men, their job is simply that, a job. They have not been chosen for the tasks they perform at night and they did not choose the tasks either. They have no names, no family, no history. They never speak unless they must, unless they have to answer questions like “why me”. They will catch those who run and they will always get that night’s case to sign on the dotted line and initial where needed. They breathe like all other humans and they are indeed humans, but they are also the monsters hiding under the bed. They are the things that go bump in the night. They are the creatures that are feared most by children.
The men see all different kinds of people and by the time the night is done, they have visited the rich and the poor, the beautiful and the ugly, the sick and the well, the mothers and the fathers, the dying and the newly born, and most importantly the old and the young.
The young are the ones that don’t expect the men to make a visit to them in the middle of the night. They are the ones that sometimes put up the biggest fight and the ones that sometimes don’t deserve what they are forced to sign. They are the ones that lost a father or had a baby in high school or happened to be born with AIDS. They are the ones that made a mistake themselves and the ones that had a mistake forced upon them when they were brought into the world.
Sometimes, the men visit the young and have to explain to them what it means to sign the contract. They children don’t have an option of signing away their childhoods, but they have obligations now. They have to earn money, steal or work; they have to take care of someone, a sick family member or themselves; and sometimes they have to come to grips with death, a family member’s or theirs.
The children don’t exactly understand what they’re signing, though, and some of them grow up with a lot of problems they can’t escape. Sometimes they grow up just fine and come out ahead. Sometimes they die or die inside. The children don’t always make it, their futures are never guaranteed.
Actually, the others don’t always make it either. They are called ‘the others’ because while they are adults by law or culture, they haven’t signed the contract. They need to sign the contract before they can be considered an adult. They need to sign the contract.
The others have different reactions. Some of them come out fighting. Some of them are too tired to fight. Some of them are more than happy to sign.
The ones that come out fighting are usually the ones that always have fought since they were children themselves and they’ve constantly walked a thin line between adult and child. They thought they had a nice balance in their lives, but the men say they can’t have both. The men say they must sign. Those are the ones that run and try to destroy and nullify the four pages. They don’t understand why they were chosen to sign the contract.
The men say, “This is growing up. This is not a choice. This is not about you. This is growing up.” With that they take the pen in their hand and sign away their childhood. The pen shakes as it glides across the sheet. It initials this paragraph and that paragraph. It signs on the dotted line a perfect signature despite the minor seizure in the signer’s hand. The signer stares at the contract for a moment, crying still, and the man picks it up with ease and sets it safely in his briefcase.
There are the party-people that have let the blue veins in their arms disappear with needles and drugs. They are the people that have gotten sick in the mornings from a night they will never remember. They are the people that haven’t slept in weeks because they knew the men were coming and they wanted to get the rest of their childhood out of them before the men set the contract in front of them.
The men walk into the homes and open their briefcase on a table. They pull the contract out and set it down in front of the signer. They set a fine black pen down atop the contract. The signer reaches slowly for the pen and initials, signs, and shows the man the door. They think nothing of it; it’s just something they need to do. Whether they’ll stop partying or not, they know they’ll have more responsibilities and more people that are counting on them. And with those responsibilities and people under their influence, they will see the consequences of any and all actions they make.
There are the ones that stand at the door, night after night praying for the men to come. They are a rare breed and they don’t often show up. They have no striking characteristics. They don’t party too much to walk the line of adulthood and childhood. Sometimes they’re over achievers. Sometimes they’re trying to get out of a funk. Sometimes they’re dying. Sometimes they’re just starting to live.
The men are greeted with a smiling face when the signer opens the door, something they don’t see on a normal nightly basis. They walk in, pull the contract out, and set the pen down. The signer grabs it readily and needs no instruction on which paragraphs to initial. The signer asks no questions and says a simple ‘thank-you’ when the man picks the contract up and closes his briefcase. The man is escorted to the door and is thanked once again by the new adult.
Those are the adults that are the best adjusted. They knew it was coming, they didn’t try to avoid it or run from it or squeeze whatever youth and energy was left in their childhood out onto a few days or weeks. They knew it was coming, they knew the contract was an inevitable part of life.
The men never make a second visit to the same house to enforce the policies of the contract. The contract enforces itself. If the new adult fails to follow part of the contract, it will work itself out. The law enforcement will help the contract work. Society will help the contract work. The natural progression of things forces consequences and guidelines onto the new adult and before long everything will be back on balance. Everything always falls back in balance.
The contract is all about balance, too. The contract keeps society running and keeps the people in equilibrium. For every child, there is an adult. For every adult there is a contract and for every contract there is a man in a black suit with a stiff black hat.
The men know the world cannot function properly without a balance, without the contract. The men know this and they work hard to keep this balance. Some of the new adults think the men have ruined their life. The men don’t ruin lives, they just move them forward.
------
So...what do you think?