Post by Admin on Sept 20, 2009 4:47:58 GMT -8
Sun Nov 16, 2008 11:54 am
EJ wrote:
Guine was awake. To say she woke would be to say she rose up from sleep, gradually pushing aside her dreamscape as she pushed aside the white-on-white quilt. That wasn't the case. One moment, Guine was sleeping. Dreaming deeply of green eyes and laughter. The next moment she was awake.
"Keiren?"
Sometimes she caught him before his exodus. Sometimes. But not this time.
The dingy, cinder block walls of the apartment were bare. Guine moved within them like a confined thing, suddenly penned in. She'd fallen asleep in her jeans and tank, but her Colt was on top of the fridge, that humming, popping, leaking monstrosity. The rest of the world had in-wall cold storage. But invention rarely trickled down to the Projects. She slapped the gun, checked the chambers. Six rounds. Loaded. Keiren was terrified of guns; there was no danger.
The sound of her boot buckles snapping was drowned out by a siren from a hoverdrone. The whine cut through the single plexiglass window, ugly yellow street light shining over a child's desk painted red, blue and green. It looked brown in the light. Dirty.
She was out the door in under three minutes. Fast. But not impossibly fast. After all, she was just a woman. Just a human.
It was her son who was something more.
* * *
Kathleen was laughing, clear and bright, tossing long, curly bangs back over short strawberry blonde hair. Her hands above her head she danced with equal parts abandon and revelry, the gold and ruby cross at her heart drenched in clean sweat, pinned her to skin above the low cut of her forest green leather vest. The song blended into a techno beat, a take on the classic instrumental "End Time Angels" but spliced with rock riffs and shuddering reverb. Kathleen let out a shout and threw her head back.
"If they play 'Kathleen,' I'll buy you a Coke," Kevin laughed, loud and sincere, his tall whipcord body in black leather pants with wifi piping that matched his sister's, though his vest was long discarded... or given to the blushing brunette at the bar.
Kathleen winked, working her way to the center of the crowded dance floor. Hm. That piece, the original, classical harp, the first time she had heard it... that was a good memory. "If they play 'Kathleen,' you'll have to find yourself a ride home--"
Kathleen stopped. Not just speaking. She stopped dead still.
The dancers at the Rat Princess continued to shout and pound and move around her. The strobes -- red, blue, green -- continued to pulse in time with the beat. Kevin was suddenly at his sister's side, his voice steady in her mind. *Again?*
Kathleen blinked. "Again," she said aloud, then set her jaw. Dear Christ, why had this child Awakened so early?!
And they were out of the club in under fifteen seconds. Key and Grace perfect companions.
* * *
Keiren lifted his face to the sky. It was black... no. Not black. It was blue-silver-black. If he painted it, he would use more blue than black. He saw the colors in his mind like numbers, then like sounds. But either blue or black, it was dark. The street lights had blown, or been shot out, and the buildings, or ruins of buildings, blocked out the moon. Keiren knew it was a waning moon. He could feel it. He closed his eyes and imagined it. It would tilt to the left, like when his mama would cock her head to the side to listen to his dreams. He had touched her tilted face so many times.
"I hope Kathleen brings ice cream on Tuesday," he murmured, humming a little. The street was cold beneath his blue fuzzy slippers but at least he'd remembered to put them on this time. The air wasn't too bad -- 54.2 Fahrenheit, he deduced -- so his Cyber Squirrel pjs seemed more than enough. "But I forgot my hoody. The green one." He frowned. His mama would be unhappy. She would give him Worried Face.
Keiren was seven. He didn't like Worried Face. But without a jacket or sweatshirt, he was bound to see it. Or rather, feel it. He sighed dramatically and pursed his lips. "Oh bother..."
But it was too late to go back now. He'd miss it. If he went back for his hoody, he'd miss the Grail for sure. Keiren started walking.
He didn't bother to open his eyes.
* * *
EJ wrote:
Guine was awake. To say she woke would be to say she rose up from sleep, gradually pushing aside her dreamscape as she pushed aside the white-on-white quilt. That wasn't the case. One moment, Guine was sleeping. Dreaming deeply of green eyes and laughter. The next moment she was awake.
"Keiren?"
Sometimes she caught him before his exodus. Sometimes. But not this time.
The dingy, cinder block walls of the apartment were bare. Guine moved within them like a confined thing, suddenly penned in. She'd fallen asleep in her jeans and tank, but her Colt was on top of the fridge, that humming, popping, leaking monstrosity. The rest of the world had in-wall cold storage. But invention rarely trickled down to the Projects. She slapped the gun, checked the chambers. Six rounds. Loaded. Keiren was terrified of guns; there was no danger.
The sound of her boot buckles snapping was drowned out by a siren from a hoverdrone. The whine cut through the single plexiglass window, ugly yellow street light shining over a child's desk painted red, blue and green. It looked brown in the light. Dirty.
She was out the door in under three minutes. Fast. But not impossibly fast. After all, she was just a woman. Just a human.
It was her son who was something more.
* * *
Kathleen was laughing, clear and bright, tossing long, curly bangs back over short strawberry blonde hair. Her hands above her head she danced with equal parts abandon and revelry, the gold and ruby cross at her heart drenched in clean sweat, pinned her to skin above the low cut of her forest green leather vest. The song blended into a techno beat, a take on the classic instrumental "End Time Angels" but spliced with rock riffs and shuddering reverb. Kathleen let out a shout and threw her head back.
"If they play 'Kathleen,' I'll buy you a Coke," Kevin laughed, loud and sincere, his tall whipcord body in black leather pants with wifi piping that matched his sister's, though his vest was long discarded... or given to the blushing brunette at the bar.
Kathleen winked, working her way to the center of the crowded dance floor. Hm. That piece, the original, classical harp, the first time she had heard it... that was a good memory. "If they play 'Kathleen,' you'll have to find yourself a ride home--"
Kathleen stopped. Not just speaking. She stopped dead still.
The dancers at the Rat Princess continued to shout and pound and move around her. The strobes -- red, blue, green -- continued to pulse in time with the beat. Kevin was suddenly at his sister's side, his voice steady in her mind. *Again?*
Kathleen blinked. "Again," she said aloud, then set her jaw. Dear Christ, why had this child Awakened so early?!
And they were out of the club in under fifteen seconds. Key and Grace perfect companions.
* * *
Keiren lifted his face to the sky. It was black... no. Not black. It was blue-silver-black. If he painted it, he would use more blue than black. He saw the colors in his mind like numbers, then like sounds. But either blue or black, it was dark. The street lights had blown, or been shot out, and the buildings, or ruins of buildings, blocked out the moon. Keiren knew it was a waning moon. He could feel it. He closed his eyes and imagined it. It would tilt to the left, like when his mama would cock her head to the side to listen to his dreams. He had touched her tilted face so many times.
"I hope Kathleen brings ice cream on Tuesday," he murmured, humming a little. The street was cold beneath his blue fuzzy slippers but at least he'd remembered to put them on this time. The air wasn't too bad -- 54.2 Fahrenheit, he deduced -- so his Cyber Squirrel pjs seemed more than enough. "But I forgot my hoody. The green one." He frowned. His mama would be unhappy. She would give him Worried Face.
Keiren was seven. He didn't like Worried Face. But without a jacket or sweatshirt, he was bound to see it. Or rather, feel it. He sighed dramatically and pursed his lips. "Oh bother..."
But it was too late to go back now. He'd miss it. If he went back for his hoody, he'd miss the Grail for sure. Keiren started walking.
He didn't bother to open his eyes.
* * *
