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| `home.[Winter]; [r][language;violence;adult themes] | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Feb 14 2009, 10:15 PM (199 Views) | |
| Hunni | Feb 14 2009, 10:15 PM Post #1 |
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[This is my second story for the the fic challenge. Yea, its finally finished. I was editing it as I wrote, but I usually wait a week or so and edit again, and I didn't do that this time, so expect an edited version in a week or so. I didn't originally sign up for Winter, I think I took it from a member who quit. -shrug- Regardless. This is more character development of my own. It basically creates a handy little bridge for how Danny got from living in Shime with Toni to being a psychiatric patient in the asylum without ever really going crazy, while providing some insight on his personal background/situation. Not much, but a bit. Enough to keep a physical record for me. So yea. If you enjoy it, yay, I'm glad. If you get confused or don't like it, sorry about that but wutever. If you don't bother reading it, shame on you.] ---- 'This is the time of year when everything sounds crisp and clear. This is because the world is quiet.' He coughed into the vibrant, black and red checked kerchief around his neck and eyed the man who had sat down next to him. Social norms indicated that if there was more than one reasonably dry and empty bench in the immediate vicinity, then one should sit on it rather than directly next to the first person one saw. This was a direct violation of such implicit social rules: Danny had been minding his own business, huddled up on the very edge of the bench beneath the lamp when, completely out of the blue, this complete stranger arrived. Rather than seating himself on the empty bench opposite Danny, he chose to take his place on Danny's bench and, what was more, he violated Danny's personal space bubble. There was a whole other side to this bench and the man had to be sitting on Danny's half. It wasn't fair; it wasn't right. To top it all off, the man was actually talking to him. Yea, for real. 'Things are quiet this time of year because everything listens,' the man prattled on, not seeming particularly concerned whether Danny was paying him any heed. 'You seem to be a pretty good listener yourself. You were meant for this season. Let me guess: this must be your favorite time of year.' At last, the man turned and looked at Danny. Despite his awkward behaviour, he didn't look particularly crazy. Wrong, Danny thought, staring out past the docks and down the path, letting his gaze flicker to the impressive expanse of frozen lake beyond the docks before settling back on the lone tethered ferry. The greater portion of its metallic hull was hidden, lying in wait somewhere deep beneath the icy surface of the water. There was much speculation about what would happen to the little boat once the thaw came, as this was the first time in decades that a ferry had been allowed to freeze. Of course, it was unintentional- the ice storms came early this season- but all the same, no one knew what would happen. In fact, the storms were heavier this year than usual. It had been years since the lake had honestly frozen. Perhaps a weekend or so of thin ice, but the ferries were always back up and running within days. All it took in the past was a few strong men with sledgehammers. This was much, much more. The ice was so thick, forecasters from all over Kurin predicted a blockage straight through the winter season- for months. And Danny... Well, he'd be here in Yino for months, too. And that meant he'd have to find somewhere to stay, and possibly even somewhere to go to school. Danny looked out at the lake again. How he wished he'd never crossed it. Emotions were funny things. They could influence a person to make a rash decision which would bring them to a strange place and oftentimes, at least in Danny's experience, fill them with regret. Which he was certainly feeling now. Right now, he could be warm, at home in Toni's flat, snuggled up in a pillow fort with his best friend and munching away at leftover pizza or some of those delicious brownies Toni's foreign friend made, watching B movies. Instead, he was balanced precariously on the edge of a slick, frozen bench under a flickering, cobwebby lamp listening to some stranger jabber out his fortune and faced with the prospects of returning to his parents' house. Just the thought made him shudder. Or possibly it was the cold...? 'Yes? You like the winter?' The strange man slid closer along the bench, pressing for an answer from Danny. The youth brought his attention round to the present and the foreground, snapping his head towards the child-like adult beside him with a somewhat distressing popping noise. With a grimace, he pressed a mittened hand against the back of his neck where the noise had been emitted and replied, 'Sure, sure. I, I- Just as much as any other time of year. Yourself?' Manners- Danny hated them. Of course, he knew he had to be polite, but oftentimes manners required him to speak much more than he wished to, and even more often elicited responses from those he was speaking to which only served to prolong the wretched conversation- as was currently the case. The man, dressed inadequately for the cold in a three piece suit, and whom Danny judged to be in his early thirties, leapt to his feet in a spritely fashion and proffered his hand to the boy. 'Myself,' said the man, 'I love this season. I love any season in which schools have holidays. My daughter doesn't have school, so I go see her then.' 'Divorced, then, are you?' If I don't take his hand, he'll just leave me alone, he thought sensibly. It seemed, however, that this was not to be so. The man simply held his hand in the air before Danny's face and continued to converse as if he were not invading the youth's space. 'O, no, not at all. You see, I live very far away. It's only practical to visit when she'll be able to spend a long, long time with me. You see? Yes, indeed. Indeed, indeed. Indeed you do, you see. We all see, in one way or another, see. I see.' This confused Danny. 'I see that you are, how do you say, bewildered. I will clarify things for you- make things crystal clear, so that you can see. With 20/20 vision, but of course. Come with me. Would you like to meet my daughter?' The boy contemplated. Really, what was there to lose? He was, in essence, homeless. So what was the danger in running around with a stranger for a bit? The man was offering to take him home, at least for a while. That meant some place warm, possibly some food and maybe even a place to sleep for the night. Danny brushed some hair out of his eyes, straightened his kerchief and grasped the outstretched hand. Together, they hoisted his tiny frame off the frigid bench and he stumbled out into the middle of the path. 'H-Hello,' Danny stuttered, regaining his balance. 'My name is Danny.' 'Mmm- yes, Danny, pleasure's mine. Call me Lance.' Lance shook Danny's hand vigorously before relinquishing his grip and trundling off down the path, away from the lake and off into the night. 'Look sharp! Follow me, child.' With a skip, Danny followed. 'So, child, where do you live?' Good question. Do I have a home? Danny wasn't sure. He was giving his parents a break- but he wasn't sure he could really ever go back there. That was the point of visiting Yino, to see if he was even welcome in his childhood "home." But Toni's flat... he'd like to call it home, but was it his? It felt like home, but he was reluctant to claim any sort of right to it. He was, after all, just intruding on his cousin's space because he had nowhere else to go. Nowhere else would let him in. 'Um... Shime.' It felt more like home than any other place, at the very least. 'How about you?' Lance did a sort of twirling leap, mid-step, before answering. 'Revuenex.' 'Where's that?' 'Hmm, child, it's very far from here. It's a lovely, lively, wondrous place full of... various, colorful interesting people. I live in a two-story mansion with an enormous wine-cellar- although I must say, I don't drink, so I never have reason to go down there- and a beautiful courtyard full of artisan crafted benches and vibrant emerald grass and ancient oaks and the most magnificent stone and wrought-iron gate. I entertain guests from all across the globe, as I work from home, and my business requires me to interact with all sorts of people of varying status and need. Do you have needs?' 'Do I- uh, n-needs? I- What?' 'O-oh, yes- I see, child. You should visit me sometime,' concluded Lance, and the conversation abruptly ended. They continued on in silence, a flustered Danny eyeing his companion from beneath icy lashes, watching- no, flat-out staring as the full-grown man paused in his purposeful march to pick up centipedes and place them on fallen pine cones or inspect clusters of pebbles and either tut at them or rearrange them and give a satisfied cluck. Minutes passed, dusk turned to dark and still they walked on. The pair passed some familiar landmarks: the "haunted" house, the haunted house, the rose house, the general store, the post office. Twenty strides ahead was the town hall, but before they reached that central landmark, Lance took a sharp turn to the left and bounded off down the cobbled street and it was all the youth could do to keep up. Panting, he flailed and scrambled to keep Lance in his sights. 'Please! Please, wait for me!' Danny called out for him, voice breaking at its height, desperate for air. Still, the man seemed not to hear him. Lance took a sharp right, and Danny just caught up to the turn when the man dashed down another residential street. Finally, adrenaline still pounding through his veins, Danny rounded the last corner to find Lance standing perfectly still at the foot of the first drive, staring blankly up at a lit window. Hand on his chest, he paused for a moment to catch his breath. Then, cautiously, he approached the man. 'So,' he said softly, not wanting to startle the excitable man. Despite his efforts, Lance still jumped and glanced around like an escaped convict. 'Ah, I see,' he whispered. 'You have followed me. I'm just looking to see if my daughter is still awake, you see. Sometimes she goes to bed at odd times, and I don't like to disturb her. I like things peaceful.' 'Oh,' replied Danny. This was beginning to sound vaguely familiar. 'Hmm, yes. And who are you?' I thought I introduced myself all ready, thought the boy. 'Danny. I'm Danny.' Lance nodded thoughtfully in response. 'You must like this time of year. You're a very good listener. This is a peaceful time of year...' Oh god, he's starting to sound like a broken record, thought Danny. But before he could say anything, Lance let out an exuberant but hushed, 'A-ha!' and strode off across the lawn. With his foot stuck in an entanglement of morning glories, Lance called over his shoulder in a hiss, 'Help me up this trellis, child. Look sharp!' Danny scurried forward to give his companion a leg up. His visions of a bowl of cereal and a sofa to sleep on were swiftly melting away, back into the recesses of his mind from whence they had come. 'You don't suppose,' he gasped, finding Lance a bit heavy, 'that this might be a bit illegal? What I mean is, are- are they- she, is she expecting you?' 'Nonsense,' scoffed the man, heaving himself hand over hand up the makeshift, organic scaffolding. 'I come every holiday, you see. Of course she's expecting me. She's my daughter, she loves me- and I love her. She's as peaceful as a doe. She listens like, like, like the winter-time! Such clarity, such calm! My beautiful, precious snowflake... Anyhow, Danny, desperate times call for drastic measures.' The boy stared up at the man clinging to the vines above him, adjusting his suit with one hand. 'Um... who are you?' He paused in levering open the previously lit window, now dark inside, the icy swirls reflecting the soft yellow glow of the streetlamp down the lane. 'I,' replied the man, with a large sweeping motion that almost wrenched him from his perch, 'am a father. You may call me Robert. Some people call me Justin- usually they just shorten it to Jake- but I will allow you, my child, the special privilege of exclusivity. Call me Robert.' And he resumed the task of breaking into the second story window. Danny backed away, slowly so as not to attract the strange man's attention. When he reached the end of the drive, he turned and ran. Oh god, what a freak. I can't believe I followed that nut around town half the night. He found himself in front of the town hall and sat down at the foot of the steps to catch his breath once more. What was he going to do now? There was no night patrol in Yino, but he couldn't survive out here all night. All ready he could see feel- or rather, not feel- the frostbite taking hold in his fingers and toes. It had to be subzero temperatures outside, and there was no way he was dressed for it. A quick glance up at the clock on the spire of the town hall told him that Lorenzo's had closed a half hour ago, and in the time it would take him to walk there everyone would have gone home. So then, what were his options now? No way could he just go door to door and hope for some charity- Yino was rather conservative. Its inhabitants did not take kindly to vagrancy. There were no halfway houses or hostels here. That left... Well, that left basically one option. 'I have to go back,' he whispered. He sat for a minute, possibly to let it sink in, possibly to give himself time to come up with another solution however half-baked and terrible it may have been. Unfortunately, after four or five minutes of steady, controlled breathing, he could find no other way and gave over to hyperventilation. Fifteen minutes later he was standing outside his front door, right hand poised over the door knob. He'd found a key under the mat and unlocked the door without consciously registering his own actions. With his lip between his teeth, he mentally rehearsed possible greetings. Best case scenario, his parents were in tears to have him back home, and he would hug them tight and apologize profusely and promise never to leave them again. Somehow, this seemed unlikely. Most likely, they'd be in bed and he could slip in, sleep for a bit, snag some food and slip out before they woke up. Worst case, they'd find him and there'd be some sort of... badness. That he didn't want to think about. Danny gulped in some of the frigid night air to calm his nerves and turned the knob, gently pushing the wooden door open. He poked his head around and into the deserted foyer. The lights were off; it was messy, but not disgusting and not dusty. It looked lived-in. His parents' stuff was still there. Realizing he'd been holding his breath, Danny let out a sigh of relief. At least they hadn't moved away. That had been a fear, however small and inconspicuous. Despite not wanting to fight with his parents, it wasn't as if he never wanted to see them again. He was supposed to love them. The moment he crossed the threshold, the memories came flooding back. Danny went weak in the knees and let himself slide along the wall for support until he could replace the mental stopper. Images flashed past his mind's eye: building snowmen in the backyard by himself; his mom, bruised and crying on his bed; hiding with his sister and a flashlight under her comforter; his father, purple in the face and angry beyond rationality; playing at Uncle Ricky's house; counting cans as he picked them up; his sister, blue and white and bloated into a stranger's body, twisting from a cord in the garage. He gasped and clutched at his eyes until the tears came and washed away the memories, let him see what was in front of him. He found himself in the kitchen, and he greedily and quietly helped himself to whatever he could find. The boy was satiated and happily distracted in less than twenty minutes, and took himself off down the hall to the familiar linen cabinet for a blanket. He grabbed one stuffed off in the back, thinking that if he put it back no one would notice if it wasn't folded exactly the same. On a whim, Danny stole upstairs to see his parents. He'd decided that if he wasn't going to talk to them, he could at least just look at them, see how they were getting along... At the top of the stairs, he paused. It was silent. Good, he thought, they're asleep. Danny pressed open their bedroom door and was greeted the peaceful picture of his parents spooning in bed, snoring quietly beneath an open window. They looked much older than he remembered, particularly his mother- her hair was missing in large splotches and she looked incredibly thin. He reminded himself it had been four years since he'd seen them. The proximity between the two was touching: their relationship had always been somewhat on-again, off-again. A smile spread across his lips and he ducked out of the room. Just as Danny shut the door behind him, a waft of chilly night air blew the most vile stench out of the room and into the hall with him. He gagged, shoved a fist into his mouth and tiptoed down the stairs, putting all his effort into staying quiet. That smell! It was terrible, it was disgusting. It had smelt reminiscent of rotten, of rotten- rotten something, rotten anything. It smelt plain rotten. Like when you pass an animal that's been lying on the side of the road for a while. It had smelt like roadkill. Why would his parents' bedroom smell like roadkill? That did not add up. Feeling jittery, Danny decided he needed to lay down and sleep for a bit. He hated to admit it, but the garage was probably the best place to be. If anyone came downstairs while he was still asleep, there was really no good place to hide and no easy way to leave. If he recalled correctly, there were two doors out of the garage, making it an ideal escape point. Still shaking, Danny let himself into the garage from the kitchen. Blanket in hand, he surveyed the crowded storage place for a nook in which to stow himself for the night. In the end, he cleared space beneath a counter, pushing aside a few pairs of ice skates, two rifles, a set of power tools, three large boxes of electric extension cables and a tank of propane. He wadded up the blanket and curled up on top of it, taking care to keep the fabric between himself and the concrete, and immediately fell asleep. Danny woke up with a start to a horrendous clatter. It was over as soon as it started, and he realized through the haze that he had accidentally kicked over the ice skates in the midst of another one of his fitful dreams. Terrified, he pressed his body into the corner and drew the blanket up around himself, attempting to blend into the shadows. Outside, the sun had risen and was pouring cold, sterile light in through the window over the counter. Danny's eyes scanned the garage, and after a minute when no one came to investigate, he assumed he was safe, allowing himself to relax. Probably, he decided, it was time to go. He began crawling out from beneath the counter, allowing himself a quick stretch. It felt good to let his back extend itself after having forced it to stay folded up all night long. As he stretched, his hand must have knocked the skates again, because there was another clacking noise. He quickly withdrew his hands and resumed his extraction. Sitting up, Danny cracked his spine, took a deep breath and looked up- straight into the barrel of a rifle. He froze. 'What the hell are you doing in my house?' Danny's eyes traveled along the length of the firearm and up to his father's face. It looked... tired. Old. Unhappy. This was probably going to fall into the worst case scenario category. 'I told you to get out and not to come back. I told you,' said Danny's father in a relatively calm voice, reaching out and taking hold of his son's shirt to lift him to his feet, 'that if I ever saw your face again, I'd put a god damn hole in it. Did you hear me? I'm gonna put a hole in your face.' He waited, looking bored if anything. Danny stared. 'I said did you hear me?' The rifle prodded Danny in the chest. With a whimper, the boy nodded furiously. 'Good. Get in the house.' And so they went, father and son, back into the kitchen. The strings of a pair of ice skates tangled up around Danny's ankle, but he didn't dare pause to shake them off for fear of... well, for fear of have a hole put in his face. In the kitchen, Danny's father leaned nonchalantly against the counter and got himself a pop-tart out of the cupboard. 'Someone's been helping themselves,' he commented, eyeing Danny knowingly. 'Get me a beer, kid.' Obligingly, Danny dove for the fridge. His hands shook so badly that he dropped the first can, drenching his shirt. His father laughed. Danny tried again and succeeded the second time, avoiding eye contact as he handed over the can. His father swigged, sighed contentedly and stuck the rifle beneath Danny's chin, forcing his son to look up at him. 'So, kid. Why'd you come back? Huh? What'd you think? You brought the cops home. You turned my wife against me. You killed my flower, my girl, my love. You think I'd just let you waltz back in here like nothing happened? Yea, right. You're loopy. I'm gonna kill you. I'm gonna make it hurt. You're gonna cry, and squeal, and- aw, you're already crying.' This was true. Danny blinked furiously, trying to fight back the tears rolling down his cheeks. 'I- Dad,' he stuttered, searching in vain for the words to impress his father. 'What? What, Daddy? Daddy, what? Daddy, I was just-' A smile cracked his father's lips. 'Dad, I was just visiting. I only wanted to know if... if I- if you, um...' Danny trailed off. He watched his father nod knowingly, watched the can move to his lips, tilt, and move back to the counter. 'Go on. I'm listening, kid.' '...If maybe you loved me now.' The words surprised Danny. He hadn't thought about it much, but this seemed like the sort of fantastical, bohemian concept that he would chase after. His father threw his head back and laughed. 'Fat chance! What kind of dope are you smokin'?' Danny knew better than to defend himself. He was, after all, being held at gunpoint. His father seemed to remember this and, after another long draw from his now half-empty can, he gleefully put a foot on Danny's chest, pushed the boy into the refrigerator, cocked the rifle and aimed it at his son's nose. 'So, kid. Was it worth it? This little, visit of yours.' Danny stared, unconsciously flattening himself as much as possible against the appliance. 'Funny, huh? My whole family, soon to be gone. I'll be the last Guzman. My mom- she's dead, I think. Old as shit, anyways, if she's not. I'll bet she'd wish she were. My sister- she's dead, or might as well be. No one knows where she is, or cares. My wife- she's dead. I don't know when, I- I don't know...' He seemed to lose his train of thought; Danny felt like vomiting. That stench- that was his mom. Dead. His mom's corpse was lying upstairs, above their heads, in bed, at this very instant. He could taste the bile in his stomach. His father found his thoughts again. 'My daughter- she's dead. You killed her. You good for nothing. You son of a bitch. You maggot. You worthless piece of shit. You are going to rot in hell. So, um- bye now, kid. I'm gonna put a hole in your face.' Danny watched his father's fingers trip the safety, slide over the smooth metal, slip onto the trigger. His father braced himself; Danny went weak in the knees and collapsed to the floor. The shot rang out and the casing clattered down against the tile next to his hands. The two of them held their positions in the kitchen, frozen in the moment, shocked at the futility of what had come to pass. Then, slowly, Danny's father reached for his can. 'You have 'til I finish this to stand back up or I kill you like a dog.' Danny couldn't hear him. His ears were still ringing from the shot, and words were swimming through his head like a bad mantra. Desperate times call for drastic measures...desperate times call for drastic measures...desperate times call for drastic measures... His fingers fiddled with the strings around his ankles. He glanced up at his father; the man seemed occupied. In one swift motion, Danny kicked off his shoes, snatched up the untangled ice skates and rose to his feet. 'Good,' his father approved through the can, but Danny turned his back and fled for the door. He was out in the street when he heard a second shot and the front door slammed open. It must have been later in the day than he realized: there were a few people on the streets. It was possibly nine or ten in the morning. But Danny didn't pause to ask for the time; the adrenaline was making his blood boil for the second time in such a short period- this time, however, he was running for his life. People stared as he slid over the cobbles in his socks, and after tumbling to his knees at the sound of a shot, he allowed himself to glance back. His father was marching purposefully along behind him, his face a portrait of loathing, his posture exacting vengeance. Danny decided not to look anymore. He booked it for the lake. The sprint for the docks seemed much shorter than it had the previous night- possibly because the madman was chasing him rather than leading him. As he came to the beach, Danny collapsed to his knees once more, wincing as he felt the bruises split open. Frantically, he tugged the skates on over his soaked socks, resisting the intense temptation to look over his shoulder. Yet another shot rang out and he flinched. Finally, he tied the laces in knots and stumbled out past the stranded ferry and onto the frozen lake. 'Des-desperate times,' he repeated to himself, teeth chattering, 'ca-call for...for drastic m-m-measures.' He definitely did not have the legs for this- he hadn't been skating since he was very little, and these skates were too large- but it did not take long for him to get good at it. Mostly, he decided, out of necessity. He was, after all, an easy target. He was the only thing moving on the lake for miles. His father could stand on the end of the dock and take his precious time. It wasn't too hard to get going, though- Danny was just going in a straight line. He prayed there was no thin ice- he'd be a goner for sure if he fell in. He heard a shot and hit the ice. Danny laid there, his face freezing to the surface of the frozen lake, wondering what the hell he'd been thinking. Why had he thought anything would change? No one liked him in Yino, duh. What made him think he could skate across the lake? It would take him forever. He could barely see Shime from here. He had head of people swimming across for marathons and stuff, but that was during the summer, when the weather was pleasant- and they were athletes. Who did he think would want him in Shime? Toni had replaced him; he was just taking up space anyways. No way could he support himself. He might as well just lay here and die. As he let himself wallow in misery, the air was torn through with an oscillating ripping noise. He couldn't force himself to look up, and it faded away. Seconds turned to minutes, and Danny lost track of how long he laid there on the ice feeling sorry for himself. He was a good ways from the shore- his father couldn't easily walk out to him, but he could probably shoot him if he tried hard enough. Danny was surprised he hadn't already. The tearing noise returned, got louder, was accompanied by a strong, frigid blast of wind. It turned to a deafening roar and a bone-chilling gust. There were shouts, and a liquid stung Danny's cheek. Strong arms gripped him from behind and pulled him off the ice. As he was lifted, he saw that the source of the disturbance was a police helicopter, towards which he was being carried. He looked up at the man carrying him and tried to shout above the noise, 'I didn't do anything!' But no one seemed to hear him. He was bundled into the chopper and immediately piled with blankets. Danny stared glumly across the cabin at the officer who had carried him off the ice. He jumped when the stack of fabric next to him began to twitch and move. Danny pressed himself into the seat, watching in horror as the blankets unfolded themselves into a man. He let out a sigh of relief as it turned out to be Lance. Robert. Whoever the nutcase was. 'Mmm, yes. Hello child. Are you coming to Revuenex then?' Taken aback, Danny rubbed himself for warmth and shook his head vehemently. 'No way. I told you, I live in Shime.' The officer eyed him sharply and tutted. The youth stared, open-mouthed. 'Wait- I'm going home, right? You're taking me home to Shime, right?' There was no reply. The officer stared out the window. 'Answer me, please. I need to know. What about my father, what about him? What happened? Where are you taking me? I need to go to Shime. I need to go home.' His voice was on the verge of pleading; his eyes implored the silent man for an answer. Lance smiled to himself and retreated into his pile of blankets. Finally, the officer looked at Danny. 'Revuenex is sort of like a, uh, retreat. Or... a resort. A resort. Revuenex is a nice little resort-town. You'll like it there. Just taking a short little holiday.' He examined Danny's aghast features. Deciding the youth needed some more assurance, he reasserted himself. 'You'll like it there.' 'I liked it on the lake, too.' |
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do you choose the plastic? or the real? man i choose the plastic. | |
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2:34 PM Jul 11

