Story dump
Do not judge me for some of these. Most are completely unedited, written in very short amounts of time, and some when I was a lot younger. I just wanted them all in one place. So I've posted all my finished stories here.
Friends that Could Be
Sequel to Goodbyes That Never Were written by encore828
Missy watched the woman leave, and watched, too, as Mickey tossed out the same telegram that had been printed thousands upon thousands of times since the war. Maybe different words and different names, but it all boiled down to one thing. She stood up from her table in the corner and followed the woman out the door, ignoring the warning look the old bartender shot her way.
The November air held a chill as Missy caught up with the woman, she was walking slowly and cautiously, and Missy figured she had either had too much to drink or was too busy thinking about more important things to be in a hurry to get in any place particular. She knew the feeling, especially when there was nothing waiting for you when you got there. “Hey!” she called out, hoping to get the woman’s attention. “Hey, wait up.”
The woman stopped and turned around, raising a cold eyebrow to Missy. “What, did I forget something?”
The kind smile Missy had prepared faltered slightly in the face of the woman’s indifference. “No, uh. My name’s Missy, and I was in the bar just now, thought you looked like someone who could use some company.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“I just. The war’s been hard on everyone. And I lost someone a few months ago-”
“Bet you were happy to get rid of that silly yellow ribbon. Don’t think I need someone to talk to just because I looked a little lonely. There are a lot of lonely women nowadays. Pick someone else to bother.”
Missy was left dumbstruck as the woman’s heels clicked down the sidewalk away from her at a rapid pace. She uncharitably thought that whoever this woman’s Johnny was, he was better off on the other side of the world. The thought was immediately silenced when the sound of sniffles reached her ears through the crisp November evening air.
Destiny
They seemed to be a very mismatched pair, yet any observer could sense a familiarity between the two. One of the women had short black hair, wore a tight silver shirt, and a skirt so short it was almost obscene. Knee high boots and garish make-up added to the look, making most people wonder where her street corner had wandered off to.
The other woman was less severe looking, dressed in a grey dress and brown trench coat. Her brown hair fell softly to her shoulders and framed her face, making her look innocent and young.
“You’ve changed, Taite,” said the one in the grey dress.
“Wish I could say the same for you, Damara.” She walked out, onto the sidewalk, the heels of her boots clicking. She didn’t hear Damara following her, only sensed her. “Why are you doing this?”
“How long has it been?” She fell into step next to Taite and didn’t hesitate to follow when she led them into an alley.
“Not long enough.” She sat down on an empty crate and expected Damara to do the same, but her companion remained standing.
“You know why I’m here, Taite.”
She scoffed and said, “Of course I do. I knew before you did how it would end. She told you you had a path. I figured out what that meant long before you did. I wanted to save you the trouble. So I disappeared. But you couldn’t leave it alone, you had to track me down, and now look where we are.”
“I wont offer redemption.”
“I know.”
“I have to do this.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I know that too, but we can’t always get what we want. How do you want to do this? Do you want me to put up a fight so you can have a little bit of honor?” Taite stood.
“Don’t do this,” Damara pleaded quietly.
“Hey, if you’re too much of a coward, I’ll do it myself.” She leaned down and pulled a blade from the inside of one of her boots. She held it in both hands over her chest and was about to plunge downward.
“Stop!” Damara shouted, almost desperately.
Taite smirked and offered the hilt of the knife to Damara. “Go ahead, take it.”
If Only
Metal screamed and glass exploded, a familiar face coated with so much blood, pretty eyes unseeing.
She sat up with a gasp and panted. Her pajamas were plastered to her body, and her bangs were sticking to her forehead. She glanced over at the glowing red numbers on the clock.
It was still very early. “Fuck,” she said as she let herself fall back against the pillows, forgetting the person sleeping next to her.
The body next to her stirred and rolled over, laying one arm across her waist. “I’m sorry,” she whispered in the darkness, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
She felt a kiss pressed to her shoulder and the voice she could never get enough of said, “It’s okay. Nightmare?”
She nodded and gazed into eyes that were pretty, but not the ones from the dream. She wasn’t sure if she was thankful or bitter about that.
“Want to tell me about it?” The hand wrapped around her was rubbing small circles on her back
“Same one I’ve been having ever since.” She rolled over so she was face to face with the girl sharing her bed. Since was not something that needed to be explained. They both knew what it meant, and knew that it was probably better to leave it alone, no matter how much it insisted on not leaving them alone. They both lay quietly and looked out the window at the night sky beyond. The wind seemed to whisper If only through the branches of the dead trees.
If only she hadn’t distracted him, if only they had saved him first when she insisted. If only the other driver hadn’t been drunk. If only all of it were really just a nightmare.
The other girl heard the wind too. If only she could have all of the girl she wanted, if only her girl wasn’t haunted. If only they hadn’t had a fight. If only she insisted that she stay and No, please don’t leave right now. I have a bad feeling. If only she could have saved them both.
Liberty
The snow was thick on the ground and still falling from the bright grey sky. Liberty’s nose was pressed on the glass of the window in her bedroom, her breath fogging up the ice cold window. It was a fascinating sight. Snow hardly ever fell here. But she was stuck inside.
She coughed harshly, her throat raw and lungs sore. She had been coughing for days, and had strict orders from a doctor to stay inside. It hardly seemed fair to her. They knew what was happening to her. And they all knew that she loved the winter most. She heard her grandma call the snow a miracle, and wondered if the snow had stolen her miracle.
That’s what they said she needed, a miracle, she heard the grown ups whisper it when she was supposed to be asleep, knocked out by the disgusting medicine she had to take. The thick amber colored liquid that coated her mouth and throat and didn’t do any good at all.
Her coughing fit continued, but she tried to ignore it, focusing on the snow. She coughed so violently that her forehead collided with the cold window and her mother decided it was time for her to go back to bed.
She lay under her white sheets, skin so pallid she would have disappeared if it weren’t for her dark hair and eyes. From her bed she could only see the harsh grey sky, and longed to see the snow again. But somehow she knew that was the last of it she’d see.
The white tombstone blended perfectly with the pure white background, the words hardly readable, but if you used your finger to trace and melt the frost on the letters they were plainly visible. “Liberty Daniels, born in the winter and gone with the snow.”
One of Those Days
Have you ever had one of those days? You know the ones I mean, when you wish that you had never gotten out of bed, and when you finally do make it home at night, you’re not sure you made it through with all your sanity.
Stop me if you’ve heard this one before, two men walk into a diner - hey, I’m not done yet, sit back down and shut up. Okay, so as I was saying, two men walk into a diner. We’ll call them Troy and Joe. There’s nothing special about them, Troy does not look like a super model, and Joe is not a mutli-millionaire. Well, did I say there was nothing special about them? That might have been a tiny lie, a fib if you will.
They’re angels. Hey! That’s not that big of a lie, angels are a lot more common than you would think, you just haven’t been paying attention, have you? See, I knew I picked the right person to tell this story to.
Okay, so Troy and Joe in a diner because angels get hungry, too. Plus, diners are a great place to people watch, because you see, angels are huge gamblers. They take bets on anything and everything, but what they enjoy most is figuring out who’s actually gonna make it to that big place up in the sky. You know what I mean. Yes, of course I mean the Chrysler Tower. You know what, I’m trying to tell a story here and I’m gonna tell it my way, I have tape, and I’m prepared to use it. I’d love to see what Troy and Joe have to say about you.
“Condemned,” Joe said offhandedly, turning to another page of the menu and wincing when his elbows stuck to the checked plastic table cloth covering the table.
“No way, he’s totally got Good Deed written all over him.”
You get the point, I don’t have to continue, because really, they were sitting there for hours. They’re angels, what do you expect? Anyway, here’s the part I know you’re going to love. You know who the next person to walk through the doors was? You. Didn’t expect that one, did you?
So now, you, Troy, Joe, and the diner. Everything’s peachy, everything’s fine, but this story is more than just Your Trip to the Diner, because Trouble follows you through the door next. Your momma always told you that Trouble followed you, didn’t she? Shoulda listened, man. Really, he has your name circled in his address book, he likes you for some reason.
On this particular occasion, Trouble carries a gun, but you don’t even notice, you’re way too lost in your own head. Maybe if you went to therapy more than once a week you would have noticed, but I’m not here to judge. Anyway, lucky for you, Joe notices and alerts Troy. Lucky for you, Troy is your substitute guardian angel, Melinda is out sick
Troy really doesn’t want to start a fight between him and Melinda, and anyway, his moral compass tells him he has to save you no matter what. Just as Trouble draws his gun and squeezes the trigger, Troy tackles you to the ground. Unfortunately for you, he tackles you right into the table and you get a nasty bump on your head, and now you don’t remember any of it.
Ain’t that somethin’?
Orange
He wasn't looking at her. He knew she hated that - he was the only one who looked at her, and when he didn't, she felt invisible. She couldn't afford to be invisible, not anymore.
“When did you become just like them?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “I asked you here for a reason, you should feel special.”
He still didn’t look up and only shrugged.
“Godammit!” she yelled, slapping her hands on the table, the man in the corner gave her a warning look and she took a few deep breaths. “Just look at me. Ray, please?”
He finally met her gaze and almost looked away again. She had lost all the glamour she had possessed before. He had thought nothing could take that away, but after just a year her skin was pale and her hair was unkempt. “Jesus, Kat, when was the last time you were outside?”
She tapped her foot impatiently, at least he was looking at her now. “Does it matter? In a few hours I wont be here.”
“Kat, don’t do this…”
“If you didn’t want to talk about it, then why come at all? I would have been hurt, but it wouldn’t have killed me.” She stopped tapping her foot and smirked.
“I can leave right now if you want,” he said, leveling her with a cool gaze.
“Then go!” she cried, making a shooing gesture with her hands. She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t move. “Can I ask you a question?”
He knew what she was going to ask, and he had to look away from her again.
“No no no. Look at me or I wont ask. I can wait here for the rest of my life.” She smirked again.
“What? What could you possibly ask me now?”
“Why did you make me do it? Don’t get me wrong, I would have come to the same conclusion on my own time, and you know I’d do anything for you, but I want to know why.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was sealed tight, making it difficult for him to breathe. He couldn’t place the emotion on her face, but if he had to guess, it would be resignation. “I can’t answer that, Kat.”
She pursed her lips and stood up. “I wasn’t really expecting an answer anyway.” The man from the corner of the room moved forward and placed a hand on her elbow, leading her out of the room. “See you on the other side.”
He realized now that it wasn’t the lack of sun that made her skin look so sallow, it was her outfit. The orange jumpsuit bleached her complexion and left her looking lifeless.
Places You Can't Go Back To
She reads the words on the paper and gets less than halfway through before she feel something sharp twist in her chest, a pang of desire for something she thought she left behind months and miles ago. She realized she had a habit of not enjoying what she had while she had it, and not appreciating it after it was gone. Instead most moments of her life were stuck in a limbo of wish-I-had-another-chance. The words on the paper were just another reminder of what she had let herself lose.
She doesn’t finish reading, and instead stuffs the paper in a place she might find it again in a month or two, and she knows the words will cut just as sharply as they have now, but she can’t bring herself to throw it away. She has a reminder of almost every moment she’s let go, and they pop up at the most unexpected and innocent times to teach her something she’ll never learn. Instead the number of items from these not-quite-happy times will grow, to show her what she’ll never let herself have.
Psych Ward
A group of girls sat on the floor in a circle, cross legged and whispering. If they had been wearing pajamas it would have been mistaken for a slumber party. Instead, these girls were all wearing the uniform of the mental hospital’s in-mates. These girls were considered “a danger to themselves and society”. Or so they heard from all the counselors and their parents. They ran on a strict schedule and took pills that were supposed to fix whatever was wrong in their brain, none of them knew how that was supposed to be affective when everywhere they turned they had people telling them they were lost causes, nut jobs, and psychos.
Kelly was the typical wrist slasher, and she’d proudly show the scars of her failed attempt to anyone. She was manic depressive, but a good person when not having one of her episodes or so spaced out on whatever she had to take that day that she’d look at you and call you a pretty duck. She never told anyone specifically why she attempted suicide, but a quick sneak into the records room revealed that she had an abusive step-father.
Michelle was Schizophrenic, and had been sent here after she attempted to hang her dog because she believed he was a spy. She was definitely the weirdest and most interesting person in the ward, but other than her quirkiness she didn’t seem insane. They all took her as a sign that living there for so long had screwed up their perception of what was sane and what wasn’t. Spy dogs weren’t odd or unusual, just another day in their white-washed lives.
Theresa was the newest member, and not yet having had the opportunity to look at her records, no one knew why she was in here. She remained the enigma of the group, but the more she was pressed, the quieter she became. She was a meek girl, and hardly ever spoke up, even now in the circle when they had time to just talk without someone constantly monitoring them.
The rest of the group consisted mostly of attempted suicides, Schizophrenia, and obsessive compulsive people. One of the girls with OCD was checking the light switch, turning it on and off over and over again. The strobe affect was beginning to get annoying, but they knew she couldn’t help it, so they continued on and waited for her to finish. She finally sheepishly sat down in her spot in the circle, and was immediately engaged in conversation.
All the girls did that. They tried to make each other feel as normal as possible, to ignore their episodes. No one is ever truly insane, and they depended on each other to retain that sanity when the rest of the world told them they were lost causes, nut jobs, and psychos.
Rain, Rain
The rain pelted the window and Lindsay sighed, taking another sip of her rapidly cooling tea. She was sitting cross-legged on the window seat, watching the angry tempest outside. “Remind me why I missed this,” she said as her roommate walked into the room.
“I think it had something to do with the fact that it hadn’t rained for over six months,” she sat down on the remaining half of the window seat and rested her cheek against the cool glass.
“Yeah, well, it’s been raining for almost a week straight. Can I have the drought back now, please?”
“If I remember correctly, you were the one in our backyard at midnight doing a ‘rain dance’ with the cat. Not only did you bring this down upon yourself, our neighbors are never going to visit again.”
Lindsay stuck out her tongue and finished the rest of her tea. “Well now I’m cold and miserable, so if I ever get a bright idea like that again, shoot me, okay?”
Her roommate grinned, “Gladly.”
Scandal
He couldn't help but listen as she continued on. Sometimes he wondered if some part of her actual realized how ridiculous what she was saying was. He knew he should let her go on, but this was getting to be too much. Even for him.
“You realize this could get us killed?” he asked, leaning on the desk.
“Killed? Hardly,” her eyes gleamed, but she managed to look bored, “Prison? Oh yeah. Killed? Nope, not even close.”
“Kills our futures anyway. The threat of death is still there, no matter what you say.”
“Of course it is, baby, that’s what makes it worth the effort.” Baby, she was still young but the word rolled off her lips like a practiced prostitute. “We do it tonight.”
The rest of the group erupted in quiet mutters and he stood up. “Tonight? That’s too soon.”
“Any later and they’ll be on to us. Tonight or not at all, and I think we both agree that not at all, is not an option.” The happy gleam in her eye before became cold and sharp and he flinched.
The group stirred and someone was pushed out, he cleared his throat to get their attention. “If I may-.”
“No,” they said in unison and turned twin glares on each other.
His fists clenched at his sides, but he didn’t strike. He wasn’t afraid of hitting a woman, he was afraid of hitting her.
-
The majority of their people remained offsite, only they went, plus three people they knew wouldn’t mess it up.
“Black is a good color for you,” she said and laughed, and he snorted. They both knew black was the only color he owned. She hated black, and even now she was dressed in dark crimson. For someone as cold as her, one would be led to assume that she preferred black, but said it was too depressing.“
Alright,” he said, before she had a chance to speak, “We do this fast and quiet.”
“I thought fast and loud was how you preferred things,” she purred. He ignored here. He was finally in control, and he would let her get to him.
-
From there, everything went to hell. There had been a rat, a goddamned rat, in the group. The police ambushed them, and he found himself flat on the ground with a cop reading him his rights as he fastened the handcuffs tighter than necessary. She was lying next to him and when their eyes met she winked at him and started laughing. It started as a girlish giggle, until it looked like she was in pain she was laughing so hard.
Stasis
The door had slammed more than an hour ago, sounding heart breakingly final, but as the shadows cast by the furniture grew longer on the rug, she remained frozen in the same spot she had been when he left. Maybe if she didn’t move time would freeze with her. As long as she remained perfectly still and kept herself calm, the moment wouldn’t be made real, and he’d still be sitting with her. They’d be joking like they had been seconds before disaster struck.
The house seemed to be holding its breath with her; not a single creak was heard in the walls, and the dust particles seemed frozen, forever suspended in the air.
A little kid screamed in delight outside her house and broke the spell. Everything rushed back to her with a sickening, dizzying speed and she felt like the air had been savagely knocked from her lungs, leaving her gasping and confused.
She wasn’t sure what to do. She knew situations like this required immediate action, but an hour had already passed and each second more made the heavy weight in her chest heavier, and she knew, with all certainty, that it was too late.
Umbrella
Lightning split the sky and the almost instantaneous crack of thunder shook the surrounding buildings like a cabinet full of plates in an earthquake. Unlike the plates, the buildings held, and Nick was able to make it into the open without any fateful pieces of building material crashing down on his head. However, the safety of the open quad was only relative; peppered with tall trees the green expanse was like a blanket lightning rod. The wind whipped rain into his face with a punishing, stinging force, and he cursed his own ambition for putting him in this situation, because summer classes at the college were a bad idea even when Mother Nature wasn’t unleashing her pent-up rage for the Republicans.
He vetoed his idea to head to the library, because the librarian would make him stand by the doorway until he air dried before she even considered letting him near the books. The summer librarian was a fierce lady, who treated book as if it were the most rare and precious tome, filled with secrets of the ancient world. While he respected this, she deterred most students from venturing into the shelves, because one smudge on the pages brought the most unholy retribution upon their heads.
Instead of the library, he turned towards the nearest bus stop, which was, unfortunately, located on the other side of the quad. He crossed his fingers and hoped the essay he had worked ten solid hours on, only to have it handed back by a disinterested TA marked by a grade that was barely passing, was enough bad luck to ward off a lightning strike. As he approached the bus stop a bus pulled in, picked up a loan passenger, and pulled away again. He would have to wait ten minutes for the next one, and while the bench was sheltered, the wind was blowing the rain sideways, instead of down, so the cover was just a passing gesture.
Tomorrow, he promised himself, he was buying an umbrella.
Friends that Could Be
Sequel to Goodbyes That Never Were written by encore828
Missy watched the woman leave, and watched, too, as Mickey tossed out the same telegram that had been printed thousands upon thousands of times since the war. Maybe different words and different names, but it all boiled down to one thing. She stood up from her table in the corner and followed the woman out the door, ignoring the warning look the old bartender shot her way.
The November air held a chill as Missy caught up with the woman, she was walking slowly and cautiously, and Missy figured she had either had too much to drink or was too busy thinking about more important things to be in a hurry to get in any place particular. She knew the feeling, especially when there was nothing waiting for you when you got there. “Hey!” she called out, hoping to get the woman’s attention. “Hey, wait up.”
The woman stopped and turned around, raising a cold eyebrow to Missy. “What, did I forget something?”
The kind smile Missy had prepared faltered slightly in the face of the woman’s indifference. “No, uh. My name’s Missy, and I was in the bar just now, thought you looked like someone who could use some company.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“I just. The war’s been hard on everyone. And I lost someone a few months ago-”
“Bet you were happy to get rid of that silly yellow ribbon. Don’t think I need someone to talk to just because I looked a little lonely. There are a lot of lonely women nowadays. Pick someone else to bother.”
Missy was left dumbstruck as the woman’s heels clicked down the sidewalk away from her at a rapid pace. She uncharitably thought that whoever this woman’s Johnny was, he was better off on the other side of the world. The thought was immediately silenced when the sound of sniffles reached her ears through the crisp November evening air.
Destiny
They seemed to be a very mismatched pair, yet any observer could sense a familiarity between the two. One of the women had short black hair, wore a tight silver shirt, and a skirt so short it was almost obscene. Knee high boots and garish make-up added to the look, making most people wonder where her street corner had wandered off to.
The other woman was less severe looking, dressed in a grey dress and brown trench coat. Her brown hair fell softly to her shoulders and framed her face, making her look innocent and young.
“You’ve changed, Taite,” said the one in the grey dress.
“Wish I could say the same for you, Damara.” She walked out, onto the sidewalk, the heels of her boots clicking. She didn’t hear Damara following her, only sensed her. “Why are you doing this?”
“How long has it been?” She fell into step next to Taite and didn’t hesitate to follow when she led them into an alley.
“Not long enough.” She sat down on an empty crate and expected Damara to do the same, but her companion remained standing.
“You know why I’m here, Taite.”
She scoffed and said, “Of course I do. I knew before you did how it would end. She told you you had a path. I figured out what that meant long before you did. I wanted to save you the trouble. So I disappeared. But you couldn’t leave it alone, you had to track me down, and now look where we are.”
“I wont offer redemption.”
“I know.”
“I have to do this.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I know that too, but we can’t always get what we want. How do you want to do this? Do you want me to put up a fight so you can have a little bit of honor?” Taite stood.
“Don’t do this,” Damara pleaded quietly.
“Hey, if you’re too much of a coward, I’ll do it myself.” She leaned down and pulled a blade from the inside of one of her boots. She held it in both hands over her chest and was about to plunge downward.
“Stop!” Damara shouted, almost desperately.
Taite smirked and offered the hilt of the knife to Damara. “Go ahead, take it.”
If Only
Metal screamed and glass exploded, a familiar face coated with so much blood, pretty eyes unseeing.
She sat up with a gasp and panted. Her pajamas were plastered to her body, and her bangs were sticking to her forehead. She glanced over at the glowing red numbers on the clock.
It was still very early. “Fuck,” she said as she let herself fall back against the pillows, forgetting the person sleeping next to her.
The body next to her stirred and rolled over, laying one arm across her waist. “I’m sorry,” she whispered in the darkness, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
She felt a kiss pressed to her shoulder and the voice she could never get enough of said, “It’s okay. Nightmare?”
She nodded and gazed into eyes that were pretty, but not the ones from the dream. She wasn’t sure if she was thankful or bitter about that.
“Want to tell me about it?” The hand wrapped around her was rubbing small circles on her back
“Same one I’ve been having ever since.” She rolled over so she was face to face with the girl sharing her bed. Since was not something that needed to be explained. They both knew what it meant, and knew that it was probably better to leave it alone, no matter how much it insisted on not leaving them alone. They both lay quietly and looked out the window at the night sky beyond. The wind seemed to whisper If only through the branches of the dead trees.
If only she hadn’t distracted him, if only they had saved him first when she insisted. If only the other driver hadn’t been drunk. If only all of it were really just a nightmare.
The other girl heard the wind too. If only she could have all of the girl she wanted, if only her girl wasn’t haunted. If only they hadn’t had a fight. If only she insisted that she stay and No, please don’t leave right now. I have a bad feeling. If only she could have saved them both.
Liberty
The snow was thick on the ground and still falling from the bright grey sky. Liberty’s nose was pressed on the glass of the window in her bedroom, her breath fogging up the ice cold window. It was a fascinating sight. Snow hardly ever fell here. But she was stuck inside.
She coughed harshly, her throat raw and lungs sore. She had been coughing for days, and had strict orders from a doctor to stay inside. It hardly seemed fair to her. They knew what was happening to her. And they all knew that she loved the winter most. She heard her grandma call the snow a miracle, and wondered if the snow had stolen her miracle.
That’s what they said she needed, a miracle, she heard the grown ups whisper it when she was supposed to be asleep, knocked out by the disgusting medicine she had to take. The thick amber colored liquid that coated her mouth and throat and didn’t do any good at all.
Her coughing fit continued, but she tried to ignore it, focusing on the snow. She coughed so violently that her forehead collided with the cold window and her mother decided it was time for her to go back to bed.
She lay under her white sheets, skin so pallid she would have disappeared if it weren’t for her dark hair and eyes. From her bed she could only see the harsh grey sky, and longed to see the snow again. But somehow she knew that was the last of it she’d see.
The white tombstone blended perfectly with the pure white background, the words hardly readable, but if you used your finger to trace and melt the frost on the letters they were plainly visible. “Liberty Daniels, born in the winter and gone with the snow.”
One of Those Days
Have you ever had one of those days? You know the ones I mean, when you wish that you had never gotten out of bed, and when you finally do make it home at night, you’re not sure you made it through with all your sanity.
Stop me if you’ve heard this one before, two men walk into a diner - hey, I’m not done yet, sit back down and shut up. Okay, so as I was saying, two men walk into a diner. We’ll call them Troy and Joe. There’s nothing special about them, Troy does not look like a super model, and Joe is not a mutli-millionaire. Well, did I say there was nothing special about them? That might have been a tiny lie, a fib if you will.
They’re angels. Hey! That’s not that big of a lie, angels are a lot more common than you would think, you just haven’t been paying attention, have you? See, I knew I picked the right person to tell this story to.
Okay, so Troy and Joe in a diner because angels get hungry, too. Plus, diners are a great place to people watch, because you see, angels are huge gamblers. They take bets on anything and everything, but what they enjoy most is figuring out who’s actually gonna make it to that big place up in the sky. You know what I mean. Yes, of course I mean the Chrysler Tower. You know what, I’m trying to tell a story here and I’m gonna tell it my way, I have tape, and I’m prepared to use it. I’d love to see what Troy and Joe have to say about you.
“Condemned,” Joe said offhandedly, turning to another page of the menu and wincing when his elbows stuck to the checked plastic table cloth covering the table.
“No way, he’s totally got Good Deed written all over him.”
You get the point, I don’t have to continue, because really, they were sitting there for hours. They’re angels, what do you expect? Anyway, here’s the part I know you’re going to love. You know who the next person to walk through the doors was? You. Didn’t expect that one, did you?
So now, you, Troy, Joe, and the diner. Everything’s peachy, everything’s fine, but this story is more than just Your Trip to the Diner, because Trouble follows you through the door next. Your momma always told you that Trouble followed you, didn’t she? Shoulda listened, man. Really, he has your name circled in his address book, he likes you for some reason.
On this particular occasion, Trouble carries a gun, but you don’t even notice, you’re way too lost in your own head. Maybe if you went to therapy more than once a week you would have noticed, but I’m not here to judge. Anyway, lucky for you, Joe notices and alerts Troy. Lucky for you, Troy is your substitute guardian angel, Melinda is out sick
Troy really doesn’t want to start a fight between him and Melinda, and anyway, his moral compass tells him he has to save you no matter what. Just as Trouble draws his gun and squeezes the trigger, Troy tackles you to the ground. Unfortunately for you, he tackles you right into the table and you get a nasty bump on your head, and now you don’t remember any of it.
Ain’t that somethin’?
Orange
He wasn't looking at her. He knew she hated that - he was the only one who looked at her, and when he didn't, she felt invisible. She couldn't afford to be invisible, not anymore.
“When did you become just like them?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “I asked you here for a reason, you should feel special.”
He still didn’t look up and only shrugged.
“Godammit!” she yelled, slapping her hands on the table, the man in the corner gave her a warning look and she took a few deep breaths. “Just look at me. Ray, please?”
He finally met her gaze and almost looked away again. She had lost all the glamour she had possessed before. He had thought nothing could take that away, but after just a year her skin was pale and her hair was unkempt. “Jesus, Kat, when was the last time you were outside?”
She tapped her foot impatiently, at least he was looking at her now. “Does it matter? In a few hours I wont be here.”
“Kat, don’t do this…”
“If you didn’t want to talk about it, then why come at all? I would have been hurt, but it wouldn’t have killed me.” She stopped tapping her foot and smirked.
“I can leave right now if you want,” he said, leveling her with a cool gaze.
“Then go!” she cried, making a shooing gesture with her hands. She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t move. “Can I ask you a question?”
He knew what she was going to ask, and he had to look away from her again.
“No no no. Look at me or I wont ask. I can wait here for the rest of my life.” She smirked again.
“What? What could you possibly ask me now?”
“Why did you make me do it? Don’t get me wrong, I would have come to the same conclusion on my own time, and you know I’d do anything for you, but I want to know why.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was sealed tight, making it difficult for him to breathe. He couldn’t place the emotion on her face, but if he had to guess, it would be resignation. “I can’t answer that, Kat.”
She pursed her lips and stood up. “I wasn’t really expecting an answer anyway.” The man from the corner of the room moved forward and placed a hand on her elbow, leading her out of the room. “See you on the other side.”
He realized now that it wasn’t the lack of sun that made her skin look so sallow, it was her outfit. The orange jumpsuit bleached her complexion and left her looking lifeless.
Places You Can't Go Back To
She reads the words on the paper and gets less than halfway through before she feel something sharp twist in her chest, a pang of desire for something she thought she left behind months and miles ago. She realized she had a habit of not enjoying what she had while she had it, and not appreciating it after it was gone. Instead most moments of her life were stuck in a limbo of wish-I-had-another-chance. The words on the paper were just another reminder of what she had let herself lose.
She doesn’t finish reading, and instead stuffs the paper in a place she might find it again in a month or two, and she knows the words will cut just as sharply as they have now, but she can’t bring herself to throw it away. She has a reminder of almost every moment she’s let go, and they pop up at the most unexpected and innocent times to teach her something she’ll never learn. Instead the number of items from these not-quite-happy times will grow, to show her what she’ll never let herself have.
Psych Ward
A group of girls sat on the floor in a circle, cross legged and whispering. If they had been wearing pajamas it would have been mistaken for a slumber party. Instead, these girls were all wearing the uniform of the mental hospital’s in-mates. These girls were considered “a danger to themselves and society”. Or so they heard from all the counselors and their parents. They ran on a strict schedule and took pills that were supposed to fix whatever was wrong in their brain, none of them knew how that was supposed to be affective when everywhere they turned they had people telling them they were lost causes, nut jobs, and psychos.
Kelly was the typical wrist slasher, and she’d proudly show the scars of her failed attempt to anyone. She was manic depressive, but a good person when not having one of her episodes or so spaced out on whatever she had to take that day that she’d look at you and call you a pretty duck. She never told anyone specifically why she attempted suicide, but a quick sneak into the records room revealed that she had an abusive step-father.
Michelle was Schizophrenic, and had been sent here after she attempted to hang her dog because she believed he was a spy. She was definitely the weirdest and most interesting person in the ward, but other than her quirkiness she didn’t seem insane. They all took her as a sign that living there for so long had screwed up their perception of what was sane and what wasn’t. Spy dogs weren’t odd or unusual, just another day in their white-washed lives.
Theresa was the newest member, and not yet having had the opportunity to look at her records, no one knew why she was in here. She remained the enigma of the group, but the more she was pressed, the quieter she became. She was a meek girl, and hardly ever spoke up, even now in the circle when they had time to just talk without someone constantly monitoring them.
The rest of the group consisted mostly of attempted suicides, Schizophrenia, and obsessive compulsive people. One of the girls with OCD was checking the light switch, turning it on and off over and over again. The strobe affect was beginning to get annoying, but they knew she couldn’t help it, so they continued on and waited for her to finish. She finally sheepishly sat down in her spot in the circle, and was immediately engaged in conversation.
All the girls did that. They tried to make each other feel as normal as possible, to ignore their episodes. No one is ever truly insane, and they depended on each other to retain that sanity when the rest of the world told them they were lost causes, nut jobs, and psychos.
Rain, Rain
The rain pelted the window and Lindsay sighed, taking another sip of her rapidly cooling tea. She was sitting cross-legged on the window seat, watching the angry tempest outside. “Remind me why I missed this,” she said as her roommate walked into the room.
“I think it had something to do with the fact that it hadn’t rained for over six months,” she sat down on the remaining half of the window seat and rested her cheek against the cool glass.
“Yeah, well, it’s been raining for almost a week straight. Can I have the drought back now, please?”
“If I remember correctly, you were the one in our backyard at midnight doing a ‘rain dance’ with the cat. Not only did you bring this down upon yourself, our neighbors are never going to visit again.”
Lindsay stuck out her tongue and finished the rest of her tea. “Well now I’m cold and miserable, so if I ever get a bright idea like that again, shoot me, okay?”
Her roommate grinned, “Gladly.”
Scandal
He couldn't help but listen as she continued on. Sometimes he wondered if some part of her actual realized how ridiculous what she was saying was. He knew he should let her go on, but this was getting to be too much. Even for him.
“You realize this could get us killed?” he asked, leaning on the desk.
“Killed? Hardly,” her eyes gleamed, but she managed to look bored, “Prison? Oh yeah. Killed? Nope, not even close.”
“Kills our futures anyway. The threat of death is still there, no matter what you say.”
“Of course it is, baby, that’s what makes it worth the effort.” Baby, she was still young but the word rolled off her lips like a practiced prostitute. “We do it tonight.”
The rest of the group erupted in quiet mutters and he stood up. “Tonight? That’s too soon.”
“Any later and they’ll be on to us. Tonight or not at all, and I think we both agree that not at all, is not an option.” The happy gleam in her eye before became cold and sharp and he flinched.
The group stirred and someone was pushed out, he cleared his throat to get their attention. “If I may-.”
“No,” they said in unison and turned twin glares on each other.
His fists clenched at his sides, but he didn’t strike. He wasn’t afraid of hitting a woman, he was afraid of hitting her.
-
The majority of their people remained offsite, only they went, plus three people they knew wouldn’t mess it up.
“Black is a good color for you,” she said and laughed, and he snorted. They both knew black was the only color he owned. She hated black, and even now she was dressed in dark crimson. For someone as cold as her, one would be led to assume that she preferred black, but said it was too depressing.“
Alright,” he said, before she had a chance to speak, “We do this fast and quiet.”
“I thought fast and loud was how you preferred things,” she purred. He ignored here. He was finally in control, and he would let her get to him.
-
From there, everything went to hell. There had been a rat, a goddamned rat, in the group. The police ambushed them, and he found himself flat on the ground with a cop reading him his rights as he fastened the handcuffs tighter than necessary. She was lying next to him and when their eyes met she winked at him and started laughing. It started as a girlish giggle, until it looked like she was in pain she was laughing so hard.
Stasis
The door had slammed more than an hour ago, sounding heart breakingly final, but as the shadows cast by the furniture grew longer on the rug, she remained frozen in the same spot she had been when he left. Maybe if she didn’t move time would freeze with her. As long as she remained perfectly still and kept herself calm, the moment wouldn’t be made real, and he’d still be sitting with her. They’d be joking like they had been seconds before disaster struck.
The house seemed to be holding its breath with her; not a single creak was heard in the walls, and the dust particles seemed frozen, forever suspended in the air.
A little kid screamed in delight outside her house and broke the spell. Everything rushed back to her with a sickening, dizzying speed and she felt like the air had been savagely knocked from her lungs, leaving her gasping and confused.
She wasn’t sure what to do. She knew situations like this required immediate action, but an hour had already passed and each second more made the heavy weight in her chest heavier, and she knew, with all certainty, that it was too late.
Umbrella
Lightning split the sky and the almost instantaneous crack of thunder shook the surrounding buildings like a cabinet full of plates in an earthquake. Unlike the plates, the buildings held, and Nick was able to make it into the open without any fateful pieces of building material crashing down on his head. However, the safety of the open quad was only relative; peppered with tall trees the green expanse was like a blanket lightning rod. The wind whipped rain into his face with a punishing, stinging force, and he cursed his own ambition for putting him in this situation, because summer classes at the college were a bad idea even when Mother Nature wasn’t unleashing her pent-up rage for the Republicans.
He vetoed his idea to head to the library, because the librarian would make him stand by the doorway until he air dried before she even considered letting him near the books. The summer librarian was a fierce lady, who treated book as if it were the most rare and precious tome, filled with secrets of the ancient world. While he respected this, she deterred most students from venturing into the shelves, because one smudge on the pages brought the most unholy retribution upon their heads.
Instead of the library, he turned towards the nearest bus stop, which was, unfortunately, located on the other side of the quad. He crossed his fingers and hoped the essay he had worked ten solid hours on, only to have it handed back by a disinterested TA marked by a grade that was barely passing, was enough bad luck to ward off a lightning strike. As he approached the bus stop a bus pulled in, picked up a loan passenger, and pulled away again. He would have to wait ten minutes for the next one, and while the bench was sheltered, the wind was blowing the rain sideways, instead of down, so the cover was just a passing gesture.
Tomorrow, he promised himself, he was buying an umbrella.