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rydenstories · 7 years ago

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I found a journal in my hotel room

My girlfriend and I are just finishing up road tripping around the US, seeing concerts, attending festivals, visiting landmarks, etc. As you can imagine, we've seen a ton. It's been great, but by the time we started our long journey back to our home state, the trip had taken a lot out of us. Not just physical exhaustion, we'd nearly drained our savings for the trip as well. The plan had always been to drive straight through, taking turns at the wheel while the other slept. With tension rising as time passed, the plan quickly changed and we looked for the cheapest (but still nicest) hotel we could find.

Later, we found ourselves pulling up to the building directly next to the highway that would be our haven for the night; a cheap chain hotel with a bright sign that read "NIGHTLY $4O, WEEKLY $200" and a giant parking lot nearly packed full of semi-trucks. There are two more hotels on the same side of the highway underpass similar to this, two gas stations, and a fast food restaurant. The crowning feature of this small area, however, is a goliath stone cross that almost looms from the other side of the highway. It towers over everything, including the church that stands behind it and is illuminated by two bright white spotlights. To be truthful with you, this SOUNDS very odd when typed out but after weeks of driving past countless places like this, it's all just something I've come to shrug off as very mid-west.

The lobby wasn't packed like the parking lot, but there were more people wandering around the main floor than I'm used to seeing in near any hotel. Mostly gentlemen, reading books, eating cup noodle, watching the news, and chatting joyfully. It actually kind of reminded me of living in the dorms during college. Very friendly environment. I found myself surprised at how just... nice everything was for how not nice you'd expect it to be, you know? Still, we didn't really pause to reflect on that before checking in and quickly rushing to our room. My girlfriend did a quick check of her side of the bed and was asleep within minutes, but even with how tired I felt, I couldn't bring myself to go to bed so early and decided to check over the entire room.

Fairly clean. Carpet was really new, too. Not bad for the price. I sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling satisfied enough. Still, I pulled out the nightstand drawer, more-so to satisfy my curiosity about hotel bibles than anything else. Instead, there is this dark blue composition notebook. I've been reading it for a little while now.

It seems to be a journal, with many of the entries summing up the mostly uneventful days of the writer, a truck driver with a wife named Lynae. The writing itself is really messy and although I can tell that the author is deeply thought and well spoken, many of the larger words are spelled phonetically; smart, just not book smart. The journal is really full and some of the earlier entries are really interesting, detailing run-ins with hitchhikers and feuds with other drivers. The entries stop very abruptly and the last few are particularly unsettling. I can't be entirely sure, but I think those were written in this room. These are the last few entries. I've copied them down and done corrections to make it overall more legible, but otherwise I haven't changed anything.

___________________________________________

July 27th The money is in and it is good! I knew Bone would come through for me on that last haul. Now I just gotta get the rig back home! I'm glad I finally have the money to stop and rest in a real bed, too. The old cabin just ain't as comfortable as it used to be. Maybe that's what I'll be fixing next! I called Lynae and let her know I was coming home and she near squealed over the phone. I'm thinking now's the time to get her that pretty ring. Anyway, I saw Monty again today and asked if he was gonna return my MP3 player but he just kind of shrugged me off. It was pretty damn rude, actually. Knew his parents didn't teach him manners. He just got up in his truck, wasn't even gonna stick around. Weird actually, he almost always sacks up for the night, doesn't like driving after dark. Oh well, hope he enjoys a nice night drive! All over nothing!

Anyway, seems time to hit the hay! I'll be headed out tomorrow morning and I'll hopefully be home for supper!

July 28th Woke up this morning with the worst kind of headache. You know the kind that stings behind the eyes, burns your nose? Awful. Soon as I got out of the bed, the nausea hits. Damn it! Happens after every long haul; I get some bug off some dirty oldie who ain't never heard of antibacterial soap and I have to sleep it off in some crummy hotel. Fucking figures. Anyway. Seems like this place is much less crowded than last night and near all of the fellas that are here are total strangers to me. I wandered around a little bit, went to the lobby and grabbed some good stuff from the snack machines. Hung out for a few minutes, too, but instead of the normal circulation of news and talk TV, the counter girl was watching some weird black and white film. I ended up just going back to my room, throwing up a little, and getting some sleep. I napped until now, which it's pretty late. I'm getting 1 AM on my room's alarm clock.

I went downstairs to grab some clean clothes from my rig and smoke a cigarette but the front and side doors of the building were locked. I didn't see any employees around though, so I figure they're on their late night break. I hung out down there for a while and waited for someone to come open it but gave up eventually. If I'm being honest, I was feeling a little uncomfortable. It was too damn quiet. Plus, that church changed the lights shining on that giant cross. They're red. What a weird color for a church to pick. I don't know, maybe the fever is just making me loopy and paranoid. I better try to get some more sleep.

July 29th When I woke up this morning, the alarm clock said it was already well past noon. I thought it couldn't have been right because it was still pitch black in my room, no light shining through the open curtains at all. I got up and sure enough, it was still pitch black outside. So I figured my clock was broken. I guess the fever's got me feeling more and more irritable since I got here, otherwise I don't think I would've even brought it up let alone complained, but I yanked the cord from the wall and left my room.

The lobby was still empty, door still locked, and no employees in sight. I rang the little bell on the counter but nobody came. Hell, I waited in that lobby for a damn hour and nobody came! I'm starting to feel worse, too. My head is pounding so hard and I can't get any damn medicine since I've searched high and low for an unlocked exit and found not a single one. I don't really have any choice except to lay down and rest. Tried to watch TV, but all it's pulling is the weather channel and black & white movies, so I guess I've been watching the weather channel for a couple hours now. I'm going to try to rest more.

Oh. By the time I turned on the weather channel, it was saying it was 2 PM. The clock for sure was not wrong, but I have yet to see any sign of the sun.

August 2nd It's still dark outside and according to the weather channel's date, I'm missing some days. My head is so foggy that if I didn't remember at least a little from the other day, I don't think I'd question the initial notion that I just... slept through it from being so damn sick! I'm not sure that's what this is anymore. I'm not sure what this is at all anymore and frankly, I'm scared as shit.

The bit I can remember is only a small sliver of time. I got up and near shit my pants when I saw that not only was the alarm clock plugged back in, the damn thing was set again. I remember checking the door to find that the privacy lock was sure enough in place. Unlocked it and I swung open the door but then it all goes blank after that. Now I'm here and it's more than a day later and there's some kind of music coming from somewhere. Searched for it but found nothing.

As for the cross, they turned the lights off all together. I went up to the fourth floor to get a good look outside. Seems like everyone just left... All the haulers.... Gas station attendants.... Highway drivers.... Everyone. My rig is the only one in the parking lot. I'm beyond scared... I could break out but I'm so weak.

Aug 3rd My door was open when I woke up. All the doors to all the rooms are open. People's things are sitting around but there are no people. I've stopped pretending that this is normal. Something is so fucking wrong here and I can't even find a single clue as to what's happening or why it's just me. I've slammed my whole body weight into doors, searched high and low for keys or any damn thing that might help me get out of here. Nothing. It doesn't even seem like there's a world out there anymore. Like something just picked the hotel up, emptied all the people out besides me, and let darkness swallow the rest of it up. I can't see anything beyond the parking lot. Somewhere out in the vastness, though, I can hear that music from yesterday. It's something low, with a lady's voice singing over a very slow and out of key piano. She sounds sad but I can't make out what she's actually saying. I think I would be more concerned if the noise itself didn't make my headache so much worse. Instead, I just feel angry.

[[The entries no longer have dates after this and I can only assume they are each separated by at least a day just due to the previous writing pattern, but who knows.]]

xxxx I've spent a lot of time wandering around the hotel. At first, I tried closing all the tenant doors again. It made me uncomfortable to see them that way, but as soon as I'd hear the latch and I'd turn away, they'd loudly swing open again. Scared me shitless, as you can imagine. Then, after a couple more times, pissed me off. Even despite my fucking throbbing headache, all of the rage within my chest spilled out of my throat in a torrent of screams. As you probably could guess. My screams haven't received a response beyond that same sad song that only gets closer. Or louder. I don't know.

I've started searching through the rooms. Going through people's things. I wonder where they are. Did they get to leave? Or did they go somewhere else? I'm still not sure. Does it even matter? Things are getting worse for me regardless what happened to them.

xxxxx The parking lot is gone. It seems like the closer the darkness creeps towards this place, the worse my headaches get. I've tried to move to a higher room to get away from the darkness, but then I wake up back in my original room again. The weather doesn't play anymore, but the black and white film channel does. I've tried to sit down and watch it, but after a couple minutes, it ends up being far too painful. I can't... describe the pain. It's everywhere. It's in everything, god damn it.

xxxxxx First floor is gone. The cross is back though. It's illuminated in that same strange red light, taunting me from out in the darkness.

I've been through every inch of this damn place, trying to find some kind of haven away from this madness. I tried to go downstairs at one point. Into the darkness. My ears are bleeding now but I made it back to my room in one piece.

xxxxxxx Oh god. Dear Jesus Christ. Her singing is now screaming. The piano is grating. I wanna go home.

xxxxxxxxx I think this very well might be it. If you'd believe it, the higher floors went before this one, making it damn clear that this has always been coming down to me. It's been coming for me since I got here. I think even Monty could sense it.

Despite having every light in the room on, as well as every single one I could steal from this floor, it just keeps on growing dimmer. The girl. She's not screaming anymore. She doesn't need to scream. She knows I hear her. It's like she's right over my fucking shoulder, whispering right in my ear. And just like that, someone is knocking on the door. Darkness is seeping underneath like black smoke and I know I don't need to answer. It's creeping over the pages, up my arms, shoulders, face, and into my mouth.

Lynae, I'll miss you. ___________________________________________

I'm really.... shocked. It could easily be.... anything..... but something between the too comfortable vibe in the lobby, the handwriting, and the overall feeling I've had since picking the journal up absolutely tells me that there's something to this. Now that I've got it all copied down, I'm getting my girlfriend up. We're taking this journal down to the front desk. God fucking willing, we're leaving as soon as we can.

#my story #mine #creepypasta #nosleep #spooky #creepy

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spideyxchelle · 8 years ago

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hey guys, here is the first half of a ww2 spideychelle hc/fic au. this is not the happiest headcanon/fic thing. so be warned that this will deal with war and race issues.

ain’t no business like show business. not really.

see, peter got shaken up real good that first trip he took to the apollo theater down in harlem. the big band really got into it. that swing. that rhythm. that jive.

and he knew, at fifteen, that he had to be apart of it. be apart of that only business. show business.

so he took extra shifts down at the cinema, every shift he could get, to pay for a trumpet of his very own. he wanted to blow like the boys down at the apollo or the club on 7th street.

peter spent every saturday night down at the Stark Club in Queens. it was cool, hip and had some of the best music north of Brooklyn. the Stark Club was where those hollywood types hung out in New York. dancing, drinking. it was the life of the party.

or so peter assumed. see, he’d never actually been inside. he would hang by the artists entrance hoping to get even a glance of some of his favorite big band players. and he’d loiter in that alley all night to listen to their music, the best music, ringing out the music.

it took just over a year for someone to catch on to what peter was doing on those saturday nights. a trumpet case in hand. and it was Tony Stark, the owner of the Stark Club, that caught on.

“you’re here a lot kid, ain’t ya?” Stark asked. Peter nodded, clutching his case to his chest, “yes sir. much as I can manage, that is.” “what for?” “why, to listen to the music, sir.” “music sounds better inside.” “i ain’t smooth enough to get into a place like that, sir.” “says who?” “says everybody.” “well, i say you can come in. and I own this club. so get out of the cold...?” “peter. peter parker, sir.” “yea, yea. get inside, mr. parker.”

he’s sixteen years and some change old when THE Mr. Stark of Stark Club gives him a job as a bus boy at his club. and every night he gets to work and jive to the best music around.

he still practices his trumpet at home. carves out a few hours every day after school before work to get in some practice. and the sound that comes out starts to sound less like tinny screaming and more like notes.

he’s eighteen, having put in two years at the club, when he feels he’s good enough to play in front of a crowd. and so, with all of his hope in his throat, peter dares to ask Mr. Stark to let him play.

his employer stops in his tracks and eyes up the kid, “you play? what?” “the trumpet, sir.” “been playing on three years now.” “and you think three years is good enough? to play on my stage?” “only one way to find out, sir.” he knows Mr. Stark is fond of him. he stands anxiously while Mr. Stark appraises him. Tony shrugs, “fine. but just ONE night, Parker.” and peter is so excited he’s shaking Tony’s hand a hundred times over, “yes, sir, Mr. Stark, sir. I ain’t gonna let you down.” Tony pries his hand from peter’s grip, “we’ll see, won’t we?”

he takes the day off from school on that Thursday rehearsal at the club. the club looks different in the daylight. all of the boys in the band are chilling out on stage, warming up, when peter walks in. the twittering stops and they all STARE at him. he knows he’s the new guy. that he’s gotta earn his keep and all, but he’s here to play. be a part of the action, man.

he lamely waves to the gentlemen on the stage and a fella named Sam, a trumpet player, steps in front of Peter. a second trumpet player named Bucky joins him. sam says, “you must be the runt, mista stark was gabbing on about, ain’t ya?” peter nods. bucky eyes his trumpet case, “you’re playing fourth chair, kid. our usual fourth chair, Bruce, got himself into a bit of trouble lately. he ain’t gonna be back for a few weeks. so you prove you can play.....and you’re down to play with us ‘til he gets back.”

and peter’s heart SOARS. because a one night gig could turn into more.

he gets seated next to the piano and the kid tickling the keys looks about peter’s age. he smiles at peter and offers his hand, “I’m Ned, pleasure to meet cha, Mr. Parker.” “peter, please,” he shakes Ned’s hand. “peter, then. don’t let them boys make you feel nervous. everybody’s had their first gig. everybody’s been the new guy.” “i ain’t nervous,” peter lies, “mostly excited.” and that part is true. Ned grins and plays a jazzy tune on the piano, “well, Mista Parker, let that trumpet wail.”

and he does. he’s not as good as the other guys, its true. but he can keep up. and that feels good enough for now. sam sniffs at him at the end of rehearsal but he tells him he can play on the gig. and he’s on cloud nine.

or so he thinks. until the night of the gig. they’re playing two hours of jazz music and he knows he’s gonna be exhausted after, but the energy of the room pushes him through.

and when they start to play its magic. Same yells “A ONE, TWO, A ONE TWO THREE FOUR”.... and they’re off. they’re sliding and scooping and swinging. and everybody is dancing in the hall. fellas and their ladies move and groove. and a couple of sailors and soldiers take the stage, going crazy where they can. kicks and jumps and twirls.

about half way through the performance is when he notices her. the beautiful doll standing in the back, lingering by the bar, with a cigarette hanging from her lips. her curly hair hangs free...kissing her shoulders. and she’s got red lipstick staining her lips.

and he starts playing to her and he knows she can tell. because she cracks her lips up in a smile at him and blows smoke in his direction like it’d reach him if she blew hard enough.

when they blow out the hall, finish their playing, he packs up his case as quick as he can. clapping Ned on the shoulder in thanks and heads to the bar to talk to the girl with the cigarette. she’s still there and he bounces in his oxfords. tries not to....but its damn hard.

“hey there, miss,” he swallows, “let me buy ya a drink?” she raises her perfectly styled eyebrow at him. “i got my own, thanks.” “let me get your next drink?” he offers. and she laughs like he’s cute or funny or pathetic. he hopes it one of the other two. “didn’t your Mama ever teach you no means no?” he smiles, “my Aunt did.” she blows smoke out, “then, what? you a bad learner, or something?” he blushes, “if I’m bothering you really....I’ll leave you to it, miss. i ain’t trying to ruin your night.” she puts out her cigarette, “you’re not. but surely, trumpet boy, you got better things to do during a gig than focus on a girl at the bar.” “i disagree.”

and he’s pretty sure she smiles. it isn’t one of them big, new york lights kind of smiles that the whole room notices. it’s more private. it feels like just for him. and damn, he could look at her all day.

he offers his hand, “i’m peter parker, miss.” she peers at him over her cigarette and slowly takes his hand, “michelle. jones. but everybody ‘round here calls me MJ.” and his eyes go big. because he’s spent years outside this club listening to the acts in the alley. and he’s spent the last two years working in here watching the performers come and go. and he knows MJ. she just looks different with a red lip and a cigarette in her hand and her hair wild and curly instead of pinned up in one of them smart ‘dos. “you’re a singer,” he blinks. she curls her lip around her cigarette and blows out another puff of smoke before answering, “i do it on occasion, yea.” “gee,” he pockets his hands to keep them still, “i love your stuff. really. you’re just....wow.” and then he asks the stupidest question, “how old are you anyway?”

her eyebrows SHOOT up into her hair, “excuse me?” “not to be rude,” he fumbles, “i’ve just heard you singing here for a few years. and you don’t look a day over seventeen, is all I meant, miss. miss MJ, i mean.” she puts out her cigarette, “i am a day over seventeen. i’m eighteen. been singing here since i was fourteen. tony found me at one of those talent competitions down at the apollo.” and peter feels a moment of full circle. “me too,” he replies, and then amends, “i mean, not that he found me at the apollo. that i’m eighteen.” she’s smiling again. and he figures he must be doing something right. so he takes the plunge, “can i ask for a dance, you think?” “there’s no music playing.” “don’t care.”

she pushes herself off of the bar she’s been lounging on and peter realizes immediately that she’s taller than him. by a bit. but he doesn’t mind so much. because how many people get to look up at such beauty? he’s the luckiest sonofabitch. ever. ned’s packing up on stage when peter catches his eye. and his friend smiles. as peter leads MJ on to the dance floor, Ned sits back at the piano. he begins to play something slow and smooth. the music tempts other couples join them on the dance floor. they sway. they’re halfway through the song when peter mumbles, “go out with me.” “you know,” MJ whispers in his ear, “this is all fine and dandy in a jazz club, mista parker, but even in new york….nobody is gonna be very pleased about you being seen with me.” peter tightens his hand at her back, bringing her closer, “i don’t pay attention much to what people say about me, anyway.” she pulls away slightly, “i do.” “then..i’ll just have to see you here,” he tugs her close again. she breathlessly laughs in his ear, “you one of them progressive types?” he shrugs, smile dazzling, “it’s 1941, miss, the world’s changing.”

a stand-up bass joins the piano and then the drums are light and lazy and swaying turns to feeling the rhythm. its in his finger tips just like playing the trumpet. MJ drops her head back like she can hear the music better if she’s looking up at the sky. and he leads from his hips. dancing a little more rudely than he would outside the walls of this club. but something about Stark makes the mess of the outside world easier to handle.

at the end of the night, nine dances later, MJ tips her head back so they’re looking at each other and peter’s eyes flicker down to her lips. those lips curve in a smile and she presses her hand to his chest, “that’s enough for tonight, mista parker. i best be getting home now.” “let me walk ya,” he insists. she shakes her head, “can’t. you know how it is.” he hates that he knows what she means. the world isn’t a forgiving, kind place. “tomorrow?” he asks, and he doesn’t care that he sounds desperate because he is.

she shrugs over her shoulder at him as she walks to the front door, “we’ll see.”

and that’s how he meets Michelle Jones. he comes back the following night. and she’s not there. and so he plays with the boys a little sadder than before.

it takes three weeks for him to see her again, except this time its not at night. it’s in broad daylight. he’s at a rehearsal for a set that night and she shows up in smart blouse and an a-line skirt. he grins. and she rolls her eyes. “hello boys.” Sam jumps off the stage and gives MJ a kiss on the cheek, “heya cousin.” she throws her arms around Sam and hugs him tight, “heard you need a singer.” “is that the word on the street?” “it is.”

and peter hopes they do. because he could do a night of watching her sing up close and his trumpet supporting her vocals. actually, he’d take any excuse to just be closer to her. Sam nudges MJ and gestures to the stage, “well come on then. we don’t have all day.”

they get some lead sheets for the music she knows and when she starts to sing peter is pretty sure whatever attraction he has to her doubles tenfold. music is such a huge part of who he is, you know? its a need. like if he doesn’t play he’ll die. and when she sings he knows she understands that need. and damn it all to high heaven, its attractive, ain’t it. yea it is.

when they finish she grins over her shoulder right at him. and peter scoots to the edge of his seat cause hello miss Jones. Sam’s eyes flicker between the two of them and he groans, “oh no, sir. not my baby cousin.” MJ turns to Sam and indulgently kisses his cheek, “i’ll see you tonight, Sammy.” “we gonna talk about this Emmy.” “no we’re not.” “yes we are.” she skipping to the door, “i said i’ll see you tonight.” “Michelle!” “give your Mama my love.” and she’s gone.

and peter’s pretty sure he’s still smiling like a moron. Sam whirls on him, “whatchu think you’re doing boy?” his blood cools, “nothing, sir.” “i don’t know what stupid world you live in parker, but you’re a white man. don’t go bringing trouble to my cousin’s door. you hear me?” “Sam....come on...why does that matter? white. black.” Sam’s eyebrows get more serious than he’s ever seen him, “you’re white. you don’t understand consequences because they’re never gonna fall on you. but i won’t have them falling on my cousin. you hear me?”

he nods. and while he doesn’t understand, peter likes MJ. he doesn’t want to do anything that could cause problems for her. he likes her too much. so he does try to stay away. really. for her sake.

but its hard when he sees her every night at the club crooning on that microphone. it’s hard when he sees her all dolled up and looking pretty for the crowd. and harder when he sees her in her every day clothes at rehearsal looking just as cute. and its hard when she flirts with him in front of Sam to get a rise out of her cousin. and its harder when he flirts back. it’s all hard. because MJ isn’t just a dime. she’s smart and funny and great and she gets music.

in late-October is when they start to give in a little. dancing like they did that first night well into the early hours of the morning whenever Sam isn’t around. they aren’t the only interracial couple dancing here. there are no rules at Tony’s....the world outside is the messed up one.

the whole world, actually. peter isn’t stupid. he’s heard about the Germans. he knows Europe is at war and they’re tearing each other apart. but he’s got his own life, his own things going on, and he’s too busy worrying about how to make life with MJ work to worry about things happening half a world away.

for now.

his birthday is in late-November. and they play an awesome set for his birthday. and MJ wear that red dress that she knows peter can’t keep his eyes off of. he likes to think that she did it for him. as a sort of birthday present. and he’s grateful.

turns out, that isn’t his present.

after the set, MJ tugs peter into her dressing room. and he gulps, “miss jones.” she rolls her eyes and turns around, “these clips are digging into my head. help me take ‘em out?” “what?” his voice cracks. and she looks over her shoulder at him, her red lips inviting, “help me take out my clips, peter.”

with shaky hands, he tries. he really does. but her hair is so soft and curly and he’s never touched a woman’s hair before. he’d kissed a few of them at school. but it had been a polite exchange. nothing as erotic as taking out her hair pins. it takes longer than it should, but he gets all of them out, and her hair tumbles down.

he knows he shouldn’t, but his hands slide down from her hair to her neck and then down her spine. his voice is rough, “this is a lovely dress, MJ.” her voice sounds wrecked, “oh shut up.” and she spins around and she’s kissing him.

however girls kissed him before MJ was not kissing. now he’s certain. just pressing lips. kissing MJ is like searching for answers, all consuming passion. and he’s already touched her hair so he brushes his fingers into it.

they stumble backward against her vanity and he’s pinned her between the little table and his chest. they’re kissing and his thigh slips between her two legs to get closer to her.

the door bangs open. “Emmy, that last number- what in the hell?” they pull apart, MJ trying to get her dress somewhat in order. peter doesn’t even try to right his floppy hair. it always looks some variation of messed up.

Sam is shooting them daggers and peter’s eyes widen. he braces for impact as Sam steps at him, but MJ throws herself in between. “Sammy,” she puts her arms out, “leave it.” “leave it???” Sam roars, “are you outta your mind, Emmy? he’s white!” peter squeaks, “i don’t care. i love her, Sam.” and he sees MJ’s back straighten. he’s never said that to her before. never had the time, really. but he knows its true. knows he’s been a goner since that first moment he saw her sing.

Sam points at peter over MJ’s shoulder and snarls, “no. no you don’t.” “i do,” peter nods, “i love her. and i’m sorry if you don’t like it-” “like it??” Sam interrupts, his voice wild, “you think this is about whether or not i like it? you stupid kid.” “Sammy-” MJ whispers.

Sam snaps his gaze to MJ, “no. you don’t get to Sammy me. he’s white, Emmy. he’s white and so the rules are different for him. he can fool around with a black girl, fine, they been doing that for hundreds of years. but you? they’ll kill you. they’ll string you up and make you dance for it.”

and that image flashes in the back of peter’s mind. he sees the world not as he’d like it but how it is. and he clenches his fists in anger. he won’t let anybody hurt her. “i won’t let them,” he says out loud.

Sam brushes MJ out of the way and she looks so defeated she doesn’t fight him. he steps so he’s looming over peter and his eyes are angry, “you’re a dangerous kid, you know that? pretending the world outside is shiny and new and different. adopting our music and acting like its yours.” “i love big band.” “but it ain’t your music, boy. you play the trumpet fine. but you and Bucky don’t really belong up on that stage. but you’ll steal it. you always do. and you’ll pretend it was your idea all along.” “Sam....come on, you know me. i wouldn’t.” “I TOLD YOU,” he yells, “I told you to stop sniffing around my cousin. it stops today.”

Mr. Stark cracks open the dressing room door and the whole room freezes. he looks between the three of them and MJ’s smeared lipstick on Peter’s mouth. it takes him less than three seconds to figure out what’s going on here. “Michelle, darling,” Tony drawls, “why don’t you get going...i gotta sort out my band here.” she takes one last look at peter over her shoulder and scurries out. he takes an enchanted step forward like he could follow her. Mr. Stark steps in front of him, “wipe your mouth, kid. you look a mess.”

Sam seethes beside him, he can feel the anger radiating off of him. Tony claps Sam on the back, reassuringly, “i’ll handle the kid. you go make sure your cousin gets home safe.” “alright, Tony,” Sam responds, stilted.

and then, its just him and his boss alone. Tony hands Peter a towel and he wipes the red lipstick off of his mouth. “good?” Peter asks. Tony nods. they sit in silence for a while until Tony stretches out and sighs, “Michelle is pretty. I ain’t gonna fight you on that.” “Tony-” “An adult is talking! .....look, Michelle is pretty. she’s smart and funny and she’s as talented as talent gets. she could have a real career one day. maybe sing in one of those flicks in Hollywood. but she isn’t gonna get to do any of that if you get her killed.” “we live in New York City.” “you think there aren’t racists here? you think that just because you don’t care that she’s black other people won’t? this world isn’t a nice world, peter. but that is a nice girl and i’ll be damned if you get her in any kind of trouble.”

peter shrinks into his seat. Tony stands, buttons his jacket and exits through the door he came with one final thought, “clean yourself up. you look a mess.”

and he stays a mess. he stays a mess for the next two weeks. Tony gives him some time off at the club. like getting distance might help limit his feelings. like he might get over her. all it does is make the longing stronger. all it does is make him miss her voice.

and so on December 1 he goes back to that alleyway where he used to listen to the music at 15, aching for a listen to her voice. and she doesn’t disappoint. he can’t hear her as well as he would have if he was in the club. or as well as he would have if he were playing trumpet right beside her. but its still her and he’ll take what he can get.

he does this every night. every night until:

December 7, 1941.

the day starts ordinary. he misses MJ but he’s got errands to run and he doesn’t miss her so bad in the day time. its at night when he’s used to seeing her that the longing gets incapacitating. he figures he’ll probably go to the alleyway to listen again tonight.

and then, at lunch, the world falls apart. they’re calling it an attack on pearl harbor. they’re saying that something over 1,000 americans died. they’re saying that it was the Japanese. they’re saying the European War is now on their doorstep.

he wasn’t born until after the Great War. but he knows the stories. he knows that the world all fought each other and men never came home to their families. he knows that his Dad and Uncle Ben used to get that look in their eyes whenever someone mentioned the front. he knows what Global War does to men. he knows.

and he knows that this attack on pearl harbor ain’t gonna stand.

he doesn’t go to the club that night. he waits. he waits for what he knows is gonna be the end of the world. he’s 18. no way he’s avoiding the fight.

Aunt May cries all night as they sit next to the radio. she cries and clings to him and tells him he’s not allowed to go.

but when the call to war happens, he already knows he’s shipping out. because he’s gotta protect his family. he’s gotta go fight so that other attacks won’t reach their shores. he’s gotta go.

and so when FDR gives that speech, one he’s sure is gonna go down in infamy, and congress declares war on Japan it feels like suiting up.

he doesn’t wait for his draft letter, he goes down an enlists immediately. if he’s gonna be in this fight, he’s gonna be in it.

everything is so frantic and so crazy, every boy he knew growing up is throwing themselves in the way of the war, that he doesn’t forget about MJ but he is distracted enough that he doesn’t obsess over missing her.

until the night before his boat is full of boys is expected to ship out to the UK. there, they’ll meet up with some other soldiers, train and head to france. where the bulk of the fighting rages.

he’s packed his bag and aunt May has cried herself to sleep when he hears knocking at his window. he wanders over to the glass and sees MJ through it. he throws it open. “what’re you doing here?” she covers his mouth with her hand and climbs inside. he wants to talk to her again but she spots his duffel and glares at him, “you’re going?” he tenses his jaw, “yea. course i’m going. they’re gonna enlist me anyway, MJ. i’m 18.” “that could have been weeks, months, even a year from now.” “they blew up pearl harbor.” “you’ve never even been to Hawaii. why do you care??” “BECAUSE IT MATTERS. because next time it could be New York. because i’ll be damned if i coulda done something and didn’t cause I was scared.” “you noble idiot.”

“tell me this,” Peter steps toward her, “would you tell other boys not to go?” she narrows her eyes, “don’t. don’t act like i’m dumb. i know what germans are doing. you know i hate the nazis. you know i’ve wanted us to fight in the war forever.” “so why not me?” her bottom lip goes and she looks like she could cry, but MJ is strong. she won’t. “because I love you. let other people can die for world peace...but not you.”

he rests his forehead against hers and even though they’ve only kissed once it feels like he’s been close to her forever, “i gotta go. baby, you gotta let me.” she shakes her head and he cups her cheeks, pleading, “baby, you gotta let me go. its what’s right.” “i hate you. if you go i’ll hate you.”

he smiles sadly, “i’m going because i love you.”

she grabs the front of his shirt and smashes his lips into hers. its better than the last time because she’s in his space and in his imagination, he can pretend that she’s a permanent fixture in his room. that this is their room. and they’re happy. and the world doesn’t care about dumb racist bullshit.

she must pretend, too, because she keeps kissing him.

that’s all they do that night. that and a bit of necking. but no matter how much he wants to do more, MJ is still a lady and he won’t disrespect her.

its the wee hours of the morning when she leaves and as she goes she presses a picture into his hand. its of her in that red dress he favors. his face lights up, “you giving me a picture of you to ship out with?” she rolls her eyes, “oh shut up.” “admit it, you’re my girl.” she flicks his nose, “i’m nobody’s girl. but i’ll admit i like you fine.” he kisses her briefly, “i’ll take it.”

they don’t say goodbye. he imagines MJ wants to act like she could see him tomorrow. like it won’t be months or maybe years until she sees him again. she wants to pretend the world is better. he does, too.

once she’s gone, though, he breaks down. because fuck. he could die. he might. and he’s only 18. 18 year olds aren’t supposed to die. but the world is at war. and duty calls.

#headcanon ask #ww2 au #spideychelle

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katestinyliving · 8 years ago

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This is going to be a LONG post of all the holiday portraits I took of my family during this Christmas season. If you’re into pulling out family portraits and reminiscing or learning about someone’s family events, you will enjoy this.

I am that person. Haha! I Thoroughly enjoy hearing about people’s families and their histories or how they celebrate together.

Weeks’s Christmas Tree Decorating Party!

Because my parents technically live in a “tiny apartment”, we have tiny trees. They’re super easy to decorate and super cute, but my favorite part is my family and the food. Haha!

She’s being cute, as always.

Daddy’s giving me a serious face.

Mama makes THE BEST potato soup everrrrr. Ever.

Nom. Nom. Nom.

5 days engaged!

Super excited about all of it!

Wrapped up in the Grinch!

She loves the singing in this movie!

Asa being cute and funny.

Totally sucked into the Grinch.

Everyone decorating the tiny trees!

We just opened up the gifts our friend Melissa sent us for Christmas!

Family time.

She’s pickin’ a guitar!

Most of my evening was spent sewing on buttons to this velvet jacket I bought from Goodwill.

Moon’s Decorating Christmas Party!

And then we decorated the Moon’s tree the next evening. I thoroughly enjoyed looking at the old photos and eating the tasty Texas chili Darnea made! And I finally got Asa up out of the recliner to help put a few ornaments on the tree!

Can you tell I’m obsessed with food?

Cuuuutie.

Herb getting his soup!

Herb holding a childhood picture of Darnea!

Please notice how cute my fiance is on the bottom left. He’s got the best cowboy look.

And the recliner battle begins.

Herb getting the boxes open.

Jordan getting the tree stand ready.

Danielle being beautiful!

Stockings are hung.

Danielle and Jordan!

Asa’s grandmother holding one of the grandkids. I think this is Asa, but I could be way wrong.

Me asking Asa to get up.

Then he does this. Haha!

Decorations!

I began begging.

Yay! He joined us!

So handsome!

Darnea looking beautiful holding two ornaments!

Danielle making delicious hot chocolate!

Crazy cute.

Close up of the hot chocolate.

Darnea enjoying her hot chocolate.

The tree is completed!

Nanny’s Christmas Celebration

Every year my Mama’s side of the family gets together for Christmas. Nanny and all her kids and all their kids and all their kids’ kids get together and eat and exchange gifts. This year my aunt Ann and John couldn’t be with us, and my cousin Luke was in Florida. They were crazy missed, and I’m hoping next year we can all be together again.

First photo of the night. I’m printing this out and hanging it on my fridge. I love it that much.

Everyone praying over the food.

Dig in!

Love birds!

Daniel’s first Christmas at Nanny’s.

Loved having Kim and Tommy at the party! I love this picture of Kim. Beautiful smiles! We missed having her BFF Mary!

Two cousins.

Trying to figure things out.

Bashful.

I love my aunts!

Love this smile of Susan’s!

Mama! She’s gorgeous.

I love my aunt Missy!

Paw Paw wranglin’ a Jubi.

Nom nom nom.

Food makes her happy.

This is perfect.

Everyone gets wildly serious with gift giving. And most of the gifts are actually hidden.

Grandma and Maggie!

It’s not a gathering unless there’s a puppy running loose! Haha!

Two sister’s holding their grand babies passing out gifts.

Mother and daughter. Twins in frustration.

Passing out gifts!

Cousins at their great-grandmother’s feet.

Getting some great-auntie time in.

Mine and Asa’s first gift this year together.

I’m thankful for Levi snagging these for me!

Love our ornaments from Lori and Roy!

I am super pumped to learn how to make pies.

The best gift is usually just the box when you’re an imaginative kid.

I love my sister!

Best friends!

Kim gave us skillets! Crazy thankful! Kim is one of the best cooks I know!

Ladies and gentlemen. This is my sister.

Shameless party animal.

We love our matching boggin’s!

Asa took this picture of me.

Best friends!

Playing in a box!

Jubi and Tony!

Getting photos outside!

Nanny with her children. We just needed Ann with us! She was terribly missed!

Weeks/Tuttle Family! Grandma was freaking out because she was afraid to be on the tall porch.

We love Tony!

I love my Nanny!

I’m thankful I have her!

Looking at wood stoves!

Trying to take a nap.

You know it’s a good party when you end up with crusty hair, under a rug, and trying to take a nap as the party is winding down.

Weeks’s Christmas Celebration

The next day, aka Christmas Eve, we celebrated our immediate family’s Christmas!

Our tiny trio of trees!

Krispy Kreme is important.

Mama’s cornbread, or as Jubi calls it “kernbread”.

Daddy’s got the New Orleans 1920’s street band going for background music.

The beginnings of potato salad.

This is a mother daughter yearly event for all the holidays.

I asked Asa to take pictures of us and now I’m feelings shy. It’s definitely different being on the other side of the camera.

We’re having a difficult time peeling eggs. For some reason the shell didn’t want to come off of these.

Getting serious.

Ingredients.

Mama made this and it looks crazy tasty.

Serious tater salad makers.

Cutting up the eggs.

Mama cuts the onions.

Putting in the mayo.

Now the pickles!

Mix it up!

Daddy’s making chicory coffee!

So good!

Daddy usually says something wild, and then I look at him like this. HAha!

One with onions. One without.

Super cute percolator!

This WAS crazy tasty!

My friend Deb gave me this for Christmas, and I thought it was wildly cute!

Playing hide and seek. She found me!

Supper time.

So excited about kern!

Nom nom nom.

Passing out gifts.

She loves puppies.

Her Cabbage patch raccoon baby!

Moon’s Christmas Celebration!

Then on Christmas morning we celebrated at the Moon’s!

Last Christmas Darnea made quiche for breakfast. I was SO excited to hear that she made it again this year.

Lil Red.

Loooooove it. Which is why I’m posting two different photos of the same thing.

Herb relaxing before breakfast.

Beautiful tree!

Cuties.

Herb reading the birth of Jesus.

Handmade scarves by Darnea!

Yuri gave Seth a BKNY shirt and his reaction was hilarious!

Excited parents!

My Moonpie.

Darnea looking cute!

Another handmade scarf!

Darnea opening gifts!

Seth was very excited about Darnea’s dress Yuri gifted her.

Herb getting the hard drive of his dreams!

Moon Christmas jam session!

Asa took a picture of me singing. Also, that scarf was handmade by Darnea too! It is my favoriteeeee.

Cuties!

Proud Padre. I love it!

Danielle serenading us!

Christmas snuggles!

Family Photo!

The REAL Family Photo

Christmas With Grandma Celebration

And THEN that night we celebrated Christmas with my Grandma at Shoney’s.

Our driver for the evening. Haha!

The tribe!

Daddy’s driving!

Tristan’s updating her instagram story.

Mama looking beautiful as always!

Grandma opening her gift!

Mine and Tristan’s handsome fellas.

Jubi.

My two grandmothers. Both in their 80’s now. I’m so thankful to have them!

Buffet!

Gearing up for the family portrait!

Tada!

Shoney’s. This one in particular is fancy.

Nanny “What’s that Katie up to?”

I gave them accordion portrait books.

If you’ve made it this far, I’m honestly shocked. The holiday season is exhausting for me, but it is my favorite time of the year too. This is JUST the Christmas celebration portraits. I haven’t even talked about the birthdays.

My birthday is 2 days after Christmas. We celebrated eating Indian food. It was SO good! And then 2 days after my birthday is my Aunt Fay and my cousin Luke’s birthday. And then 2 days after that is Mama’s birthday AND it’s New Years Eve.

Christmas time is hard. It’s a whirlwind, but I’m thankful for these people in my life and I’m thankful for such a large family.

This past year my uncle Chris passed away, and we all miss him terribly. His passing though made me realize just how important portraits are of my family. The documentation process is everything. Usually I’m always photographing other people’s families with my DSLR and only using my phone for portraits of mine. But the more I think on it, the more I realize that I am a huge contributor to educating future generations on how our family was and who our family is. And I think it is insanely important for more people to document their families as much as possible from their own perspective. You only have your family once.

This next year, I want to document more of my family as well as my clients’ families. I love being a memory keeper. I just need to remind myself to keep my memories too.

I hope everyone had an amazing Christmas and I hope everyone took tons of portraits and held their darlings close!

2017 Kate’s Tiny Living Christmas Recap This is going to be a LONG post of all the holiday portraits I took of my family during this Christmas season.

#blogger #christmas #engagement #family #fiance #holidays #Home #Kates Tiny Living #Katie Weeks Photo #Life #lifestyle #real life

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