#which i thought was called 'drivin' rain

[dbluegreen]

Driver 8

we can reach our destination...but it’s still a ways away

set list from first time i ever heard this...https://www.setlist.fm/setlist/rem/1984/orpheum-theatre-boston-ma-3bd6f030.html

[vintageshanny]

Play Something For Me - Part 5 - Meet Me in St. Louis

It’s the return of Elvis and Ruby! I hope you all enjoy! Thank you to everyone who’s liked, shared, and commented on my writing. It is so encouraging and means so much to me. ❤️

Writing Prompt: Elvis in a car

Content: Fluff, smut, 1973 Elvis, 18+

October 31, 1973

Ruby let her thoughts wander as she absentmindedly strolled down the sidewalk with her shopping bags.  She had walked to the store to pick up some candy for the trick-or-treaters that would be flooding the neighborhood later.  Ella would be home from school soon and would need help putting the finishing touches on her costume.  As usual when she was alone, she found her mind drifting to Elvis.  To her knowledge, he had not tried to contact her in the almost two months since they had admitted their love for each other in Las Vegas.  She had seen the news stories about his rant against the Hilton on closing night, rumors of a falling out with his manager, and his divorce being finalized at last.  She knew he must be going through a lot of turmoil, and at first she had tried to convince herself that was the reason for his silence, but it was probably time to face the music - she had just been a convenient distraction for him, and now he was back to a life that had no room for a single mother in St. Louis.  As if the weather sensed her melancholy mood, raindrops started to pour down with no warning.  “Dammit,” she muttered to herself, looking up at the sky as if that would stop them somehow.  

“Be careful baby, sugar melts in the rain,” an unmistakable deep voice called out.  Ruby glanced over with surprise, just now noticing the fancy black car that had pulled over to the side of the road.  She saw Elvis’ handsome face gleaming at her from the back window.  Her jaw fell open a little bit as she took a step closer.  “How did you know I have candy?” she asked, unsure of what else to say, looking down at the brown paper bags that were starting to get soggy.  “Now honey, ya know I was talkin’ ‘bout you,” Elvis chuckled.  “Now get in here ‘fore ya float away with your candy.”  The rain soaking through her clothes assured her that this was the only sensible decision.

“Aw, honey, you’re soakin’ wet, you’re gonna catch cold,” Elvis murmured as he pulled Ruby in close and planted a big kiss on her lips, which were still hanging open slightly in shock.  “How are you, I mean, what are you, um, why are you here?” she blurted out awkwardly.  She could see his lopsided smile drop a little bit at her less-than-welcoming reception.  “I mean, I haven’t heard from you, I just thought you didn’t want…” she trailed off, trying to backtrack on her initial hostility.  “I do want, honey,” Elvis said, looking a bit dejected.  “I’ve had a lot goin’ on, and I tried ta call ya a couple times, but ya ain’t got no answerin’ service.”  “Oh,” Ruby said, feeling stupid.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you called.”  She did most of her seamstress work from home, but she supposed he could have called when she was out running errands.  Or, knowing his schedule, maybe when she was sleeping.  “I just figured you didn’t want to see me again.”  Elvis looked up sharply.  “I drove all the way here, baby,” he said.  “Of course I wanted ta see ya.”  Charlie cleared his throat softly from the driver’s seat.  “I guess Charlie wants credit for drivin’ me here,” Elvis said with a hollow chuckle.  

Ruby swallowed and looked down at her hands.  “Elvis, I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered.  “Ya are?” he asked, tilting her chin up toward him.  “Of course,” Ruby admitted.  “I was just feeling worried.  I have all these feelings for you, and then I didn’t hear from you, or I thought I didn’t hear from you, and I’m scared.”  She could feel herself beginning to tear up.  “Oh, Ruby, you ain’t gotta be scared of me.  I told ya I had a lot goin’ on, but I’m here now.  Ya know I wanna be with ya.  There’s a reason we’re back in each other’s lives, and I ain’t throwin’ that away.  Understand, baby?” Elvis gazed at her, waiting for an answer.  Ruby nodded and let him wrap her hand in his own.  “Ya sure are a sight for sore eyes,” he said, his smile reappearing now.  “Really?  I probably look like a drowned rat,” Ruby laughed.  Elvis’ eyes lowered to her chest and his grin grew bigger.  “Naw, baby, ya look really good like this.  Jus’ make sure no one else lays an eye on ya.”  Ruby followed his gaze down and gasped a little bit when she saw how her sopping wet blouse had molded itself to every contour of her breasts, her nipples prominently poking through the fabric.  She could feel her face flushing bright red as Elvis chuckled and pulled her in close to him.  “Mmm my red Ruby, you’re actin’ like I ain’t seen ya naked before,” he whispered in her ear, sending a little shiver down her spine.  “Elvis!” she whispered shyly, her eyes darting toward the front seat.  “Charlie ain’t listenin’ to us, are ya, Charlie?” Elvis called out.  “No, boss,” came the reply from the front.  “Jus’ drive us to Miss Ruby’s house,” Elvis instructed and leaned back toward her.  His hand gently caressed her chest as she succumbed to the pleasure of his soft lips pressing against hers.

Ruby felt like she could go on kissing Elvis for hours, but they pulled up in front of her house in just a few minutes.  Elvis looked out the window and surveyed the sky.  “I guess we should get inside while the rain’s let up.”  Ruby noticed the downpour had disappeared as quickly as it had come.  It was as if it occurred at the perfect time for Elvis to rescue her and woo her back into his arms without a second thought.  Maybe this is all happening for a reason, she mused.  “Uh, what should I do, boss?  Wait here, or…” Charlie trailed off uncertainly.  “Nah, go to the hotel.  I’ll call ya if I need ya,” Elvis responded, grabbing a small suitcase and opening the door.  He hurried around to help Ruby get out with her wet grocery bags.  Ruby glanced around nervously, hoping none of the neighbors were watching.  Elvis wasn’t exactly incognito in a silver jacket with rainbow flames licking the shoulders.  She smiled as she looked him up and down.  He seemed to have gained a little weight since she’d seen him, but she didn’t mind at all.  It actually made her flush as she thought about laying underneath him, his body pressed into hers.  Elvis looked over and smirked as they climbed the steps to the porch.  “You’re gonna make me blush, baby, the way you’re undressin’ me with your eyes like that.”  “I’m sorry,” Ruby murmured.  “I just don’t know how you get more handsome every time I see you.”  She loved the way her compliments always seemed to both embarrass and please him.

Ruby set the bags of candy on the kitchen counter and turned to see Elvis surveying the living room, looking at the framed photos of her and Ella.  “Where’s your girl now?” he asked.  “She should be home from school any minute, actually,” Ruby commented.  “If you’d rather go, I understand,” she said, looking away nervously.  Elvis turned to look at her in surprise.  “Oh, do ya not want me to meet her?”  He looked a little hurt again.  “No, no, you can meet her, I just didn’t know if you’d feel comfortable, or-” she stammered out before Elvis cut her off.  “Ruby, I love ya.  I want to be in your life, but that means ya have to let me in,” he said as he walked closer and took her hands in his, looking directly into her eyes.  She could feel them watering as she nodded and said, “Okay.  I’ll let you in.”  Elvis smiled with relief and held her close to him.  “And Elvis?” she added.  “Yes, baby?”  “I love you too.  I’m so glad you came.”  She could feel his embrace around her tighten.  “Baby, you should get outta these wet clothes,” he murmured into her hair.  “Are you just trying to see me naked again?” she teased.  “Nah, there’ll be plenty of time for that later,” he laughed.  “I can’t get all excited when we won’t have the time for me to take care of ya properly.”  Ruby smiled at this and leaned up to kiss his lips before going into her bedroom to change.  

She returned to the living room to find that Elvis had made himself at home on the couch with some peanut butter cups from one of the grocery bags.  “Elvis!” she swatted at him playfully, “Those are for the trick-or-treaters!”  Elvis looked up at her with a big grin and whistled lowly.  “You look beautiful baby, even if I can’t see those pretty nipples anymore.”  He laughed as Ruby’s face turned scarlet.  “Aw, red Ruby, your face matches your dress now,” he continued to tease as he pulled her onto his lap.  She smoothed out her red dress with rainbow stitching at the waistline.  She was too embarrassed to say that she had picked it out so they would match a little bit with their rainbow colors.  Instead she leaned in and licked the chocolate off Elvis’ lip.  “You’re a messy eater,” she teased him.  “I can think of something really messy I’d like to eat,” he whispered in her ear, his fingers digging into her waist.  “Elvis!” Ruby squealed, shocked but delighted by his naughty innuendo.  Just at that moment, the doorknob turned and Ruby jumped up off his lap.

“Mom!  I’m home!” Ella called out as she walked in the door.  I’m right here sweetie, and we have a guest,” Ruby said nervously.  Ella turned as she walked into the living room and her jaw just about hit the floor.  “You’re - you’re Elvis Presley,” she announced in awe.  Elvis stood up from the couch and reached his hand out.  “You must be Ella.  I’ve heard so much about ya,” he said with a grin.  Ella reached her hand out and shook his, looking like she was in a trance.  “Why are you in our house?” she stared over at her mother in confusion.  “Oh, I’m jus’ an old friend of your mom’s,” he said, smiling down at how her hand was still shaking his.  She dropped his hand then and gasped.  “You did meet in Germany, didn’t you?” she asked accusingly.  “My mom said she only caught a glimpse of you.”  “Well, we may have had a conversation as well,” Ruby said softly, trying to think of how to get herself out of this uncomfortable situation.  “Then when she came to my concert in August, we got a chance to talk again.”  Elvis smiled over at Ruby, trying to help her explain his presence.  “Your concert?” Ella asked in disbelief, looking at Ruby once more.  “You went to Las Vegas while I was gone?”  Then a look of realization came over her face.  “Are you…dating?” she asked.  “Are you dating Elvis Presley and you didn’t tell me?”  Elvis looked at Ruby questioningly also, realizing that she must not have mentioned a thing about him.   Ruby cleared her throat nervously.  “It’s, um, kind of a long story, and I think that’s enough questions for right now.  I can explain it all later, but you need to finish getting your costume ready for tonight.  Trick-or-treat starts in an hour.”  She turned and walked into the kitchen before either of them could question her any further.

Ella went into her bedroom to get ready, and Ruby could hear Elvis’ heavy footsteps walk up behind her while she was pouring the bags of candy out into a big bowl.  “So…ya didn’t even think to mention me huh?” he asked, sounding a bit disappointed.  Ruby turned to find him standing directly behind her, blocking her against the counter.  “Elvis, it’s not that I didn’t think to, I mean, I just didn’t know what to say.  I didn’t know if I’d even see you again.  I didn’t want to get…anyone’s hopes up,” she tried to explain.  Elvis nodded slowly and sighed.  “I understand, baby.  But, I should probably tell ya, my hopes are up.”  He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.  Ruby stared up into his beautiful face, noticing how his long lashes fanned over his cheeks. “I think I didn’t want to admit it to myself,” she said softly, “but so are mine.”  Elvis leaned down and pressed his lips gently to hers.

Ella cleared her throat behind them and they nervously jumped apart, looking like two kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.  “If you two are done playing kissy-face, can you tell me if my costume looks okay?” Ella asked as Elvis and Ruby tried to suppress their smiles.  Ella was wearing a pink dress that Ruby had made and had her hair in braided pigtails with big bows.  “I wanted to be Marcia Brady, but mom made me dress as Cindy instead,” Ella announced with some disappointment in her voice.  “Probably no one will even know who I am because my hair’s too dark to be Cindy.”  “You can dress as a teenager when you are a teenager,” Ruby said.  “I’m practically a teenager,” Ella mumbled.  “Well, I think ya look mighty cute,” Elvis said with a grin.  “Plus ya don’t wanna grow up too fast, people give ya more candy when you’re younger,” he added.  Ella considered that and nodded in agreement.  “I think you’re onto something there, Mr. Presley,” she said, sounding pleased.  “Please jus’ call me Elvis, dear,” he said with a warm smile.  “Okay Elvis dear,” Ella said, making all three of them giggle.

The doorbell rang and Ella grabbed her trick-or-treat bag.  “My friends are here!  I’m going, mom!” she called out as she ran for the door.  “Hold on, give me a hug,” Ruby said as she pulled Ella in close.  “Be careful and stay together.  Don’t forget your overnight bag,” she added.  “Don’t worry, we’ll be careful. And I expect the full long story when I come home,” Ella said sternly. She gave Ruby a quick kiss on the cheek, waved goodbye to Elvis, and rushed out the door.  “Overnight bag?” Elvis asked.  “Oh, yeah, she’s staying over at a friend’s house after trick-or-treating,” Ruby explained.  “Hmm, we have the house to ourselves?” Elvis said, his endearing crooked smile coming out in full force, making Ruby’s heart melt and her core tingle.  “Well, after we give out the candy,” she said with a wink.  As if on cue, the first group of kids rang the doorbell.  “You should stay out of sight so you don’t cause a commotion,” Ruby instructed as she went to grab the bowl of candy.  

Ruby returned to find that Elvis had already opened the door and was signing autographs for a group of starstruck parents while the kids looked on confused, wondering where the candy was.  She thought about scolding him but saw how much he seemed to be enjoying himself and decided to just let him have fun.  Elvis continued to pass out candy with Ruby and sign autographs until the last trick-or-treater had come through.  They sat next to each other on the couch, Elvis’ arm around Ruby’s shoulders.  “I guess we had just enough candy,” Elvis announced, looking at the empty bowl on the coffee table.  “Actually,” Ruby said with a sly smile, “I set aside a bag of peanut butter cups for you since you love them so much.”  Elvis’ face lit up like a little boy’s.  “Aw, that’s sweet of ya honey,” he said, kissing her forehead.  “Do you want me to get them?” Ruby asked.  “Well, I s-s-sorta had a different treat in mind right now,” he murmured, his hand creeping up under the hem of her dress.  Ruby’s heart started racing.  “Mmm, I think I could help you with that,” she whispered.  She stood up from the couch and grabbed his hand, pulling him into the bedroom with her.

As soon as they got to the bed, Ruby pushed his jacket off his shoulders and pulled his shirt off.  “Oh, God, I’ve missed this,” she whispered as she ran her hands lightly over his chest and stomach, feeling the hair tickle her fingertips.  She loved the way Elvis always seemed to tremble slightly when they were intimate with each other.  It reminded her that he was just a human being who got nervous like anyone else.  She smiled as she took in how beautiful he looked.  Elvis smiled back shyly as he unbuttoned his pants and let them drop down to the ground, revealing his bare body to her.  “‘M sorry, honey, he’s not quite ready yet,” he motioned down to his soft cock hanging below the slight swell of his belly.  “No need to be sorry, he probably just needs a little loving,” Ruby said as she pulled her dress over her head and removed her bra and underwear.  Elvis stared at her naked body in admiration as she pushed him onto the bed.  “Let me take care of him,” she whispered lustily.  

Ruby started placing gentle open-mouthed kisses on Elvis’ lower abdomen and thighs, making a circle of wet spots around his cock as she caressed his balls in her hand.  A low moan came from his lips and she moved her mouth closer to his shaft, letting her warm breath tease him.  His moans grew louder and Ruby watched in awe as he started growing hard before her eyes, the head of his cock peeking out from the foreskin.  She leaned in and kissed this most sensitive spot, letting her tongue run over it, and Elvis let out a symphony of moans.  “Oh, Ruby, he’s sure ready now,” Elvis called out.   Ruby gave him one last lick and then laid next to Elvis as he turned to roll on top of her.  He reached down and ran his fingers through her folds, making sure she was wet enough to enter.  “Damn, baby, you’re so wet.  Is that cuz of me?” he asked with a proud grin.  “Of course,” Ruby blushed.  “That’s what happens when I get to lick all over your body and hear you moan my name.”  “Well, there’s plenty more where that came from, sweet red Ruby,” Elvis whispered as he thrusted into her tight little hole, the full weight of his body pressed against hers.  “Oh, Elvis, this is what I’ve been waiting for,” Ruby moaned, the pleasure consuming her immediately. “I know, baby, I know ya needed me to come take care of ya,” Elvis grunted as he continued thrusting deep inside of her.  After two months of waiting for this moment, the ecstasy washed over the two of them with an intensity Ruby could barely take.  She couldn’t stop from calling out Elvis’ name over and over as her orgasm hit so hard her entire body shook with pleasure.  With sweat falling from his forehead, Elvis stuttered up into her with a satisfied groan, filling her up and collapsing down onto her soft body, his head nuzzled against her chest.  

“Oh, wow, Elvis, that was amazing,” Ruby whispered rapturously as she ran her fingers through his sweaty hair.  “It sure was, sweet red Ruby,” Elvis responded.  “Elvis? Y’know how you have that, um, extra layer on your, y’know…” Ruby trailed off, for some reason feeling embarrassed to say the word foreskin. She could feel him tense up slightly as he realized what she was referring to. She quickly blurted out, “Well I love it! When you, um, go inside of me, I can feel it move back and forth a little bit and it feels amazing,” she ended in a whisper, her face turning beet red with this admission. Elvis relaxed and let out a little laugh. “I’m glad you love it, baby, I guess we were made for each other. Cuz he sure loves bein’ in there.” “I think your whole body is just perfect,” Ruby couldn’t stop the compliments as she continued to stroke his hair. He didn’t say anything more, but she could feel him smiling against her chest.  He leaned up and gave her nipple a little lick, laughing at how it sent a shiver through her overstimulated body.  Ruby blushed and smiled down at him.  “Y’know what I could use now, baby?” Elvis asked, looking up into her face, his eyes twinkling.  “Some peanut butter cups.”  Ruby laughed and kissed his sweet lips.

Tag list: @ellie-24 @whositmcwhatsit @thatbanditqueen @be-my-ally @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @lookingforrainbows @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @arrolyn1114

[my-chaos-radio]

Release: July 8, 2022

Lyrics:

As you promised me that I was more than all the miles combined

You must have had yourself a change of heart like

Halfway through the drive

Because your voice trailed off exactly as you passed my exit sign

Kept on drivin' straight and left our future to the right

Now I am stuck between my anger and the blame that I can't face

And memories are somethin' even smoking weed does not replace

And I am terrified of weather 'cause I see you when it rains

Doc told me to travel, but there's COVID on the planes

And I love Vermont, but it's the season of the sticks

And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed

And it's half my fault, but I just like to play the victim

I'll drink alcohol 'til my friends come home for Christmas

And I'll dream each night of some version of you

That I might not have, but I did not lose

Now you're tire tracks and one pair of shoes

And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do

So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad

That I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from dad

No, I am no longer funny, 'cause I miss the way you laugh

You once called me forever, now you still can't call me back

And I love Vermont, but it's the season of the sticks

And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed

And it's half my fault, but I just like to play the victim

I'll drink alcohol 'til my friends come home for Christmas

And I'll dream each night of some version of you

That I might not have, but I did not lose

Now you're tire tracks and one pair of shoes

And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do

Oh, that'll have to do

My other half was you

I hope this pain's just passin' through

But I doubt it

And I love Vermont, but it's the season of the sticks

And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed

And it's half my fault, but I just like to play the victim

I'll drink alcohol 'til my friends come home for Christmas

Have to do

And I'll dream each night of some version of you

That I might not have, but I did not lose

Now you're tire tracks and one pair of shoes

And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do

Songwriter: Noah Kahan

SongFacts:

"Stick Season" is a song by American singer-songwriter Noah Kahan, released on July 8, 2022 as the lead single from his album Stick Season. Kahan wrote the song himself and co-produced it with Gabe Simon. Although the song was moderately successful upon its release in the United States, it went viral on TikTok in mid-2023 and charted internationally. It reached number one in the United Kingdom, Ireland, the Netherlands and the Flanders region of Belgium, and charted in the top 10 in Australia, Canada and New Zealand and the top 20 in the United States.

Kahan wrote a verse of the song during a "fit of insecurity" and uploaded it to TikTok in 2022. Success was quick, prompting him to finish writing the song, which "ended up taking a long time." Kahan was also concerned about whether a song written "specifically about his home state of Vermont" would appeal to people living elsewhere, but reactions to the finished song were overwhelmingly positive.

The song title refers to a term for fall in New England, the time after Halloween before the winter snows begin, which Kahan described as "a time of transition" and "super depressing" since "it just means winter is coming soon." and he produces something new. “a lot of fear” and “no one really likes it”.

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Till There’s Nothing Left - Harry Styles One Shot

*Based on the song Till There’s Nothing Left by Cam 

**

You awoke just as the sun starting peeking in through the curtains of your bedroom. You looked over to the other side bed where your boyfriend of a few short months lay. He was wrapped up in the sheets as he slept on his stomach, drooling onto the pillow. You held back a bit of a giggle as you gently pressed  kiss onto his head before slipping out of bed. You picked up his shirt up off the floor where it was discarded last night. You slipped your arms through and buttoned it up. 

You walked over to your dressing to get a hair tie and pull your crazy sex and bed hair up into a bun. You then snuck over to get your journal from the drawer beside your bed. You make sure your movements were done quietly so as to not wake your boyfriend up. Once you got everything you needed, you tiptoed out of the room, shutting the door behind you. 

You went down to the kitchen making yourself some coffee before grabbing your guitar and heading out to the backyard. You had an amazing view of the ocean at your house in Malibu and it was the perfect place to get some writing done. For the last few days, you had this melody stuck in your head and you were finally able to sit down and brainstorm a song for it. 

You took a sip of your coffee and put it down onto the table taking you guitar into your hands. You messed around with some chords and strumming patterns to find the sound you heard in your head. It wasn’t perfect, but it was close enough and gave you something to work with. 

As you played the melody on the guitar, you looked out towards the beach. You smiled as you saw some of your nearby neighbors getting a run in already. You started humming along, which is something you always did prior to writing a song. It was weird, how you would just be playing a melody over and over again, start humming and then eventually words would replace the humming. 

“Till there’s nothing left... Till there’s nothing left,” you sang a bit as you continued playing the guitar. 

You weren't sure how much time had gone by, but when Harry emerged outside carrying his own mug of coffee you had written everything but the bridge and end of the song. When you saw him walking towards you, wearing nothing but some jogger pants and sunglasses, you closed your journal and smiled over at him. 

“Morning,” you smiled. 

“Morning, baby,” he smiled kissing you quickly before sitting in the chair next to yours. “How long have you been up?” 

“Not sure,” you said. “Maybe an hour? A little longer.” 

He nodded running his hand through his hair, “So, can I hear what you’ve been working on?” He gestured towards the guitar in your hand. 

“Maybe once it’s actually finished,” you smirked putting it down, propping it up against the edge of the table. 

“Aw come on,” he said. “Just a little sneak peek.” 

“When it’s finished,” you said. “I’ll promise I’ll play it for you before I even record it.” 

“I can handle that compromise,” he said taking a sip of his coffee. 

You got up from your chair walking over towards him. He opened his arms letting you sit on his lap and wraps his arms around you. 

“What?” He asked as you stared at him with a smile on your face. 

“Nothing, just, thinking about how much I love you,” you smiled pushing a stray hair from his face. 

“Okay, what do you want?” He joked. 

“Other than you? Nothing,” you smiled. 

“Well, you’ve got me,” he whispered.

“Good, because you’ve got me till there’s nothing left,” you whispered. 

He looked at you with furrowed eyebrows. 

“You’ll understand it soon enough,” you smiled. 

**

A few days later, you and Harry were laying on the couch, a movie on Netflix playing in the background, a bowl of half eaten popcorn on the table. Your head was laying in his lap while he played with your hair. You looked up at him and he happened to catch your eye. 

“What?” He asked. 

“Let’s go for a drive,” you smiled. 

“But it’s raining,” he laughed. 

“Exactly,” you said sitting up. 

He looked at you suspiciously, but you just smiled pulling him up from the couch. You grabbed your bag while he got his keys and phone before heading to his car. When you two got in, you put on your seatbelts and he turned down the radio so it was barely a whisper. 

“So, where to milady?” He smirked looking over at you. 

“To wherever we end up,” you smiled. 

“Okay,” he laughed putting the car into drive and pulling out of the driveway. 

You two had been driving around for a little over an hour, not really saying a word, just listening to the pelting of the rain and holding hands as he drove down by the coast. You smile over at him bringing his hand up to your lips before you notice something nearby. There was a little quiet, pull off area just off the main road. 

“Pull over there,” you said nodding in that direction. 

He doesn’t say anything, but does as you say. He pulls into the shaded area and puts the car in park before looking over at you. 

“Do you need to pee or something?” He joked. 

You laughed shaking your head,”No.”

“Then why did you want me to pull over?” He asked. “Want to head home?” 

“Not quite yet,” you whispered taking off your seatbelt. 

You turned around and climbed over into the backseat. “Care to join me?” You smirked. 

He raises an eyebrow at you before climbing into the backseat with you. You smile wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him in for a kiss. He smiled against your lips pulling you closer to him. The backseat of his car wasn’t the biggest, but you were determined to make it work. 

“Had I known you had this mind, I would have brought the Range Rover,” he whispered as you ran your hand up under his sweatshirt. 

“We’ve done this in smaller spaces,” you giggled. 

“True,” he laughed. 

You giggled pulling his hoodie over his head, throwing it into the front seat, which would then be joined with the reminder of your clothes. Every kiss, touch, and movement felt like slow motion as the rain pelted against the car. You were on top of him and his hands roamed your back while his head laid against your chest. 

When both of you were finished, you pulled his hoodie over the two of you. 

“We should probably get going soon,” he whispered pushing hair out of your face as he kissed your forehead. 

“I know,” you sighed. “But I don't want to leave just yet.” 

“Okay, we’ll stay a few more minutes,” he smiled poking your nose. 

You giggled laying your head on his shoulder. 

**

Harry was currently out with a group of his friends and you had decided when he came back after dinner is when you would play him the new song you had been working on. It was finally finished, at least in the sense before you would record it and add all the little final touches to it. You really wanted to set a mood for it, so since the weather was nice outside, you knew you wanted it to be out there. You lit candles and turned on the fairy lights that were hung out in the back. 

When Harry arrived home, he saw the note for him to meet you in the backyard. The first thing he saw was the light of the candles and then you sitting down with your guitar on your lap. 

“What’s this?” He smiled. 

“Well, the song I’ve been working on is finally finished,” you smiled. “And I wanted to set a little scene for it.” 

“Fancy,” he smirked sitting down. 

You laughed, “I thought about telling you what it’s about before I sing, but I want the lyrics to speak for themselves... and if they don’t then, I’ll tell you.” 

“Okay,” he said. “I’m all ears.” 

You smiled taking a deep breath, “Okay, here it goes.” 

You closed your eyes as you started strumming on your guitar. 

“I wanna steal every breath of fire from every star in the Southern sky. I wanna lay down in the dark and take a match right to your heart”

You sang, looking at Harry the entire time. He put his hand on his chin as he watched you. 

“I wanna hide with you in the rain in the eye of hurricane. I wanna call it for what it is and give you everything I’ve got to give.” 

You sang, feeling the emotion behind the son building up as you went through the song. Halfway through the song you noticed tears were welling up in his eyes, but he never took them off of you.

“Till there’s nothing till there’s nothing left Me and you in the backseat Drivin me crazy Killin me baby

Till there’s nothing left Till there’s nothing left with the windows up Spendin’ ll my love Prayin God don’t save me Till there’s nothing left,” 

You finished. 

Neither one of you said anything for a few minutes before he got up to walk over to you. He took the guitar out of your hands and put it down on the table. He put his hands on cheeks looking into your eyes before pressing his lips against yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he reached down putting his hands on your ass before picking you up, with your legs wrapped around his waist before carrying you into the house. 

**

A few months later, it was time to release your the single off your upcoming album. The single would be the song you had written about Harry and had played for him that night at your house in the backyard. The music video would also be released at the same time and you knew there was probably going to be some backlash, both good and bad, from it. 

When it came to the music video, you wanted Harry to be in it. It just didn’t feel right having someone else in it or making it about something that didn’t have anything to do with the song. But you and the directors were able to come up with an idea where he could still be in it and not really tell, however, you knew the fans would be able to tell. 

But it didn’t matter. 

You were at the Brit Awards to perform your song for the first time and before the single and video would be released. Of course, Harry was there and he had heard the song countless of times since that first night, but it would be the first time he would see it being performed. When you came out, you were standing in the middle of the stage, wearing a beautiful gown. The screen on the background made it appear as if it were raining and showed snippets of the music video. 

The crowd was silent as you sang and Harry watched every second of it. As soon as it was over, everyone erupted with cheers and the camera focused in on Harry, who was whistling and wiping tears from his eyes. 

After the performance, social media had exploded between your fans and Harry's. Everyone was talking about the song and making their speculations especially with the video’s playing in the background.  Neither of worried it about because that night was for the two fo you. 

When you got back to his house after the party, you washed the makeup from your face and he wrapped his arms around your shoulder. 

“You did amazing tonight,” he whispered. “I’m so proud of you.” 

“As did you,” you smiled. 

He smiled bringing his lips down to yours, “I love you,” he whispered. 

“Till there’s nothing left?” You smirked. 

“Till there’s nothing left,” he smiled. 

“I love you, too,” you smiled pressing your lips against his once more before pulling him down onto the bed with you. 

**

I usually link the song above, but for some reason youtube isn’t pulling up on my computer, so I couldn’t get a link. I do suggest you give it a listen because it’s a really good song! 

Anyway! Hope you enjoyed this one shot! Let me know your thoughts!

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Superstar

Also on AO3

For one quote/ one shot to be posted Oct 21st, my quote below; “Listen,” he said at last, softly. “Do you hear?” At first I heard nothing but the rushing of the wind, and the trickle of rain, dripping through the holes of the roof. Then I heard it, the steady, slow thump of his heartbeat, pulsing against me, and mine against his, each matching each, in the rhythm of life.” My thanks to @notevenjoking and @balfehueghlywed for organizing this one shot, I hope you like it.

Jamie walked through the house in silence. His sneakers touching the marble floor like a caress as he approached the front door with great anticipation. When the knob turned the massive front door opened with a quiet whoosh and closed with a respectful silence he promised to abide when he arrived from Scotland five months ago. The woman who owned the house and agreed to sponsor his junior year had one unbreakable rule, do not wake her in the morning. When the door was closed, Jamie’s smile could be seen in the next county. His forward flip off the top step was fueled by his exceptional muscle density, tender age of seventeen, buckets of testosterone, and pure joy. It was time to go bask to school.

Miss Abby was many things, a best selling author, sixty years a single woman, kind and interested in Jamie’s life and an exceptional cook. She provided a list of chores each week with a monetary value next to each. If Jamie needed money he could finish any or all of the chores and make enough to sustain his teenage life. Jamie would put a checkmark next to two or three of the chores and do the rest of the list without a mention. Miss Abby showed her gratitude with huge sumptuous meals that her athletic border consumed with gusto. At ten o’clock every night Miss Abby locked her study doors and worked all night.

Jamie jumped into his VW bug and shot toward school, his friends, his girlfriend, and the legendary coach John DiBiaso. It was the reason he was here playing for Catholic Memorial. Scouted as a sophomore in Scotland, he was doing his junior and senior year in Boston. He would be offered a full scholarship from any number of schools and then go pro. No one doubted it. He was that good.

Jamie was passing out smiles to all that wanted one today as he made his way into the building to drop his load of books. His friends gathered around him, joking and lying about getting laid over the holiday and telling stories about how drunk they got at this party or that. Jamie joked right back until his attention was pulled away by wild black curls, crazy gorgeous eyes, and a caboose that made his knees feel weak.

“Hey, who’s that girl?”

“Ye mean miss world-class ass or the other one?”

“Yer an idiot Sean, see you guys at practice.”

The day took control of his brain and the curly lass was forgotten. When a slim body dropped into a seat next to him at lunch he felt his body respond like a starving man.

“Where ye been lass? Been lookin for ye all morning. If ye don’t give me yer hot kisses soon I may die right here in this chair.”

Jamie leaned toward Geneva tickling her ear with his breath, making her squirm and run a hand down her hair to smooth anything he disrupted. She looked straight ahead as if he wasn’t there. Come lass, now.” Jamie dragged Geneva to the bleachers where they could kiss unobserved and he could grind into something she would never give. He walked into fifth period holding his jacket in front of him.

Claire was an even mixture of stark terror and excitement over going to a real school. She never anticipated so many students her age crammed into one building. No matter which hall she took it felt like she was fighting a wall of people who didn’t seem to notice her. By third period, she was exhausted. “Damn uncle Lamb, I told you Everest was a better school, certainly less crowded for Christ's sake.”

The only redeeming feature of this school was that giant boy in the hall this morning. He smiled at her and she shot down the hall feeling a bit dizzy. Five minutes later she met the second redeeming feature.

“Hey, luscious!” The boy leaned into Claire like he wanted to eat her, causing her to flinch and try to get away. Out of the crowd came a head of strawberry blond hair and a fist to the young man’s chest that stunned him long enough to get away. The girl grabbed Claire’s sleeve and pulled her out a side door.

Once outside, Claire turned her face to the sun, filled her lungs with fresh air, and opened her eyes to sparkling emeralds and a smiling face.

“I’m Geillis and you are a strange one aren’t ye.”

“What?”

When the bell rang Claire lurched forward apologizing to her new friend that she was late for testing. Claire launched herself back into the throng of students only to crash into an unexpected wall, hitting her head and bouncing backward. Warm hands caught her mid-flight.

“What the bloody hell…!” Her hand flew to her head as she looked up at a face that sucked the air out of her lungs and completely rebuilt her life goals in under a second.

“This collision is entirely yer fault lass, but yer British, so yer forgiven… Sassenach. Tell me yer name and I will pretend it never happened.” He smiled down at her and she saw the humor in his Hollywood handsome face. Claire struggled to regain her composure and remember what launched her into the hall in the first place. Still rubbing her head she looked up at his face again looking confused.

“I need to find the office sir can you point the right direction?”

“Sir? For that slip of the pretty tongue, ye get my company all the way there. Come, I will show ye.”

He grabbed her hand in the crowd of people and let it go when the hallway became passable. “Here is the office lass. Now, when ye see me next I expect a hi Jamie for my troubles.” He turned on his heel and jogged down the hall until he disappeared.

“Miss Beauchamp! We are delighted to have you here this semester. I know Lamb from college and promised to test you into the right school and grade. Shall we begin?” The guidance counselor looked down at the girl hoping this would not drag on all day. He was anxious to pawn her off on a lesser school where academic achievement was not expected or encouraged. He placed a test booklet in front of her with an answer sheet and a number two pencil. He wished her luck and quietly backed out the door. His first few strides felt like a temporary stay of execution by boredom. Too many parents and guardians had exaggerated the superior intellect of their children, and charges, over the years when the truth was an unremarkable, mediocre student who would never aspire to anything above the median. This girl spent the last five years in a remote location in Egypt, without running water or plumbing, and no schooling. That alone made her remarkable, as an oddity, but certainly not an academic superstar, which is the only interest he had in humans under thirty years old.

The heavy door to his office clicked shut and he exhaled his relief at being alone. He sat down and put his feet up wondering what he would order in for dinner tonight. Sometime later a sharp knock brought the counselor jerking awake from his nap. He pulled the door open to receive an answer sheet from his secretary. He looked at the clock and thought, impossible. When he looked down at the scores his face fell off, the jowls went slack, the mouth opened with a hanging lower lip, and he balled the sheet up and threw it in the trash.

“She obviously cheated, although I can’t imagine how. Oh, who cares, assign her to Park West and call them to expect a student tomorrow. What the devil is wrong with you?”

His secretary was anticipating a three-alarm academic emergency grab for this gifted student, instead, he dispatched her to a remedial high school where her brilliant mind would be stomped to death by a staff of teenage baby sitters who wouldn’t know gifted intellect if it slapped them across the face.

“No problem boss. I’ll take care of it.”

The door slammed behind her as the counselor went back to his nap.

June Dawe sat at her desk ruminating over the options of doing what’s right and risking her job or turning off her life force so she can do what she is told and be safe. Fortunately for Claire, June still had a passion for education and every student within these walls. She dialed each of the gifted teachers finding four who could meet with Claire right now.

“Claire, dear, come with me. We have a meeting on the second floor with your new teachers. Don’t be nervous child, the hard part is over. I believe your teachers will be very interested in helping you.

Jamie was on the field stunning his teammates with the deadly accuracy of his arm. He gave it all in practice just like his father taught him and the coach was blown away. Christian Memorial won the state championship this year and coach DiBiaso would bet a year’s salary it was in the bag for next year as well, as long as Jamie Fraser was playing. A whistle toot sent everyone running for the warmth of the locker room.

Jamie’s curls were still wet from the shower when he dropped into his car and zoomed toward home. It was getting dark but he saw an unmistakable silhouette ahead. A crazy mass of curls and an ass the angels only dreamed of. He jerked the VW to the side of the road and called out to the girl waiting in the bus line.

Claire smiled and waved, making Jamie feel weird suddenly. What was this then? He was completely baffled by her response, or lack thereof. That half-hearted wave was meant for a cousin or a neighbor. Jaime got out and gently pulled her from the line.

“Come Sassenach, I’m drivin ye home.”

“I like the bus, but thank you.”

He listened to her voice and heard sincerely. This was no female trick like Geneva was famous for. That little snip of a person was responding with honesty and complete lack of interest in him. Hold up, his mind was screaming. Never happened before, ever! He watched her shivering in the cold of the Boston night. He was intrigued and approached her again.

“May I speak with ye for a moment Sassenach?”

She looked at him like he lost his mind but she stepped out of line and walked over to him. “What?”

“Could I impose on ye lass, for yer company? I like the way ye talk and I’m missin my family tonight. Would ye talk to me while I drive ye home, please?”

Claire watched his eyes sparkle under the street light and felt a tractor beam pulling her toward him. He opened the car door for her and she breathed in his masculine scent and watched him fall into his seat. There was an awkward silence between them as each questioned what they were doing in this car together on this frigid night.

Jamie pulled over and looked down the block of historic brownstones. “Which is yer house Sassenach?”

“I will point to it if you tell me what Sassenach means.”

“It means outsider lass. Because of yer accent. And yer house?”

“Why is it so important to know which is my house?”

“So I know where to pick ye up in the morning for school.”

“Right here is fine, thank you. I really hate that bus.” Claire jumped out of the car and walked swiftly down the block, cutting across someone’s front lawn like she owned it. Hearing the car pull away she returned to the sidewalk and continued to her front door.

Miss Abby sat across from Jamie, enjoying his pleasure over her meal. She noticed a small flare in his eyes indicating conscious thought every few minutes. A bad test grade maybe, a fight at school, bad practice, the possibilities were endless. She had faith that Jamie would figure it out…what ever it was.

Claire could not remember ever being this exhausted. She had tested all afternoon and the questions got more bizarre and complex until she was finally released. Her bloodshot eyes watched the four teachers as they huddled over her answer sheet stealing glances at each other and then her. They seemed very happy when they let her leave asking her to join them again tomorrow morning. Claire ran in the crisp late afternoon air, just needing space and solitude. She fell in line at the bus stop and was lost in her memory of the afternoon. Until she heard the burr of the cutest boy she had ever seen.

The teachers encouraged her to choose a topic she found interesting and design a unique study that could be presented at the international science of the future competition. They promised it would be a boost to her studies, ivy league invitations, scholarships, and notoriety to make friends at school. She laid on her bed with a scrubbed face letting her mind wander. She saw an arm and a torso in movement as a ball was lifted and thrown. She saw the angles rush in and equations for mass and energy and distance. Her heartbeat jumped 30 beats per minute and she smiled in the dark. She had her hypothesis, experiment, measurement, testing and eventual modification of her hypothesis. She needed a test subject that was good enough to study.

Claire sat up and turned her desk light on so she could write her ideas down before she forgot them. She needed to study something other people wanted to know, whatever that was. She was still working on her study outline the next day when Geillis invaded her space and mind during lunch. Claire was fascinated by the backstories on all the popular kids, mostly from rich families or athletes.

“The transplants do pretty well too.” She noticed Claire’s eyebrows go up. “Transplants are kids in the exchange program that come from other countries. Catholic Memorial recruits gifted students from all over the world. Guess there’s a shortage of home-grown jocks and scholars. Like them,” Geillis nodded to the side where Jamie and Geneva were flirting with each other. “Those two are transplants from Scotland and on the top of the food chain at this school. Geneva is academics and Jamie is, well you know.”

“No! I don’t know. What is he?”

Geillis smiled indulgently at Claire, “Jamie Fraser is our star quarterback. I thought you knew him the way you face-planted his chest yesterday in the hall and then walked away with him.”

Claire was staring at the couple with their heads close together, giggling and kissing. “No, I don’t know anything about him. But he did drive me home and pick me up for school today.”

“Well, I’m anxious to hear all about it,” Geillis’s eyes twinkled wickedly and she scooted closer to Claire.

Claire was given her schedule of classes and struggled to find the new rooms hidden by the throngs of bodies crushed into the halls between classes. She was happy they were a grade higher than her original schedule. At least she wouldn’t be bored.

She found her homeroom, full of long desks with clumps students scattered around. She sat alone and pulled out her study outline. She didn’t like this room and felt like people were watching her. She tried to ignore it and get some work done. When the bell rang Claire’s head jerked up at the clock. Throwing books into her backpack she ran around the corner to the door and there he was. Jamie was talking with a group of guys and he opened the door so she could zoom past.

A fly on the wall could tell the world that Jamie was being raked over the coals and severely punished by his girlfriend Geneva who wanted the rides to school with “the little twit” to stop, permanently. The show of affection in the lunchroom was Geneva’s perfectionism, not showing weakness to the world. Jamie was just happy the fighting was over and realized his mistake when he pulled her outside for serious kissing.

“Get your filthy hands off of me, ye whore.”

“So it’s a whore I am now.”

“Stop giving that idiot rides to school where ye park and people can see ye both get out. If you insist on being a bleeding heart ye can give her a ride home if she gets picked up at least three blocks from the school.”

“Will there be anythin else, Geneva?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “no, that’s all.” Geneva turned around and left Jamie standing outside. He watched her smile and wave at someone and realized she was hellbent on looking perfect 24/7 no matter the cost.

Jamie sat in the bleachers and the cool afternoon made him feel more like himself. He thought about Geneva, the prettiest girl in the world he decided when he first got to this school. The fact she came from Scotland and would return home for the summer was a bonus. He decided she was perfect but she wouldn’t give him the time of day at first. After his first game, she was all flirty smiles and agreed to a date, they hit it off. She was here because of her academic achievement and Jamie had a snapshot in his head of the two of them, he in a Greenbay uniform next to Geneva in a white lab coat. He knew she was fading in the picture and he forced himself to look at it. He didn’t like the girl she was today but decided to cool it a bit before breaking it off with her. Maybe she’ll come around.

Claire pushed the door open and saw Jamie’s VW waiting against the curb. He leaned over and popped the door for her.

“Here.”

“What’s that for?”

“I am paying my share of gas and happy to do it because I hate that bus.” He said no three times and finally pointed at the glove box. Claire was happy he let her do her part and her effervescence came bubbling up as she talked about her study outline.

“My friend said you play football, is that true?”

Jamie’s head looked sideways at an innocent face asking a serious question.

“Yea.”

“I got approval for my study outline so it’s time to find my subject. I know it’s a lot to ask but I hoped you could introduce me to some of the top players. I only need one person but I anticipate a lot of no’s. So, could you, please?”

Jamie stared at her through the red traffic light and left turn arrows waiting for the joke that didn’t come.

“What sport does this test subject have to play?”

“Football.”

Jamie’s head was starting to hurt, “I’ll see what I can do.”

His little friend Claire was a walking contradiction, at least to his limited exposure to girls. Did she even realize who he was, what he meant to the team and school? He was out of sorts from the weird day with Geneva, and no football until next year. He needed some aspirin and a list of chores.

Claire was doing homework in the kitchen and ran for her ringing phone.

“Hello, a…Claire. My name is Geneva Dunsany. I am calling about my boyfriend Jamie Fraser and the fight you caused between us today. It isn’t right to accept a ride to school with someone else’s boyfriend. Ye may look like a twelve-year-old boy but it doesn’t look good coming to school with my boyfriend. Hello! That bitch hung up on me…click.”

Claire stared at the phone and wondered if her crush on Jamie was noticeable. Her face turned bright red with embarrassment and she threw her phone in her purse. The next morning she taped a piece of cardboard to the streetlight with a note to Jamie.

I can’t ride with you anymore so I’m on the hateful bus. You are very nice, Geneva is a bitch. See ya superstar.

Jamie was livid at Geneva’s audacity. This was not going to fly. Thanks for making this easy for me, Geneva. Wait…did the Sassenach call me superstar? He swung a U-turn and went back to grab the sign before heading to school.

Geillis was bent at the waist, laughing uncontrollably at what Claire had done. “I knew there was a reason I liked you so much. Shit, that’s the bell, we’re going to be late.” The two of them ran to their classes where Claire could grieve the second-biggest loss of her life. At least that is what it felt like today.

The rumor that Jamie broke up with Geneva went around the school like wildfire. Jamie tried to talk to Claire several times but she would smile politely and move along.

The life seemed to go out of Claire. She requested a postponement of her project until next year and applied to test out of junior year so she could get this stupid school behind her. Uncle Lam had prepared her academically but did squat about teaching her to guard her heart.

She had gained a position in a social group at school and many of her friends were leaving for the summer. Somewhere during the hug-fest she looked up at the bluest eyes on the planet and felt her heart slip into her throat. They stared at each other and Claire waved and smiled at him. Jamie held his phone up and snapped her picture. Looking back at her he saw the tear roll down her cheek.

“My God lass, what’s happened to ye,” he said quietly. “Claire!” Jamie sprinted toward her but her bestie Geillis saw her pain and pulled her out a side door and straight to her car.

Jamie had one last stop to make before parking his car in storage for the summer and flying home. He pulled Claire’s cardboard note out of the trunk and penned a note, taping it to the streetlight.

“See ye in three months Sassenach. I told the bus driver yer a terrorist so it looks like ye will be comin with me next year.”

Geillis handed Claire the note and watched the emotion play out in her eyes. It was time to find the beautiful swan in her friend and let the doting boys at the clubs and beach do the rest.

Miss Abby’s new book was published over the summer and number one on the bestseller list. She was scheduled for book signings and interviews for the next six months but that did not stop her from waving to Jamie when she spotted him at the airport.

Jesus Christ Jamie, you got better looking over the summer, didn’t think that was possible.

“How was football camp?”

“It was great.”

“Have you still got your arm?”

“Yes.”

“Did you hear there’s a new man in my life?”

“Really?”

“No.”

When Jamie got up the next morning Miss Abby was off on an eight-week signing tour and he still walked down the marble floor silently.

He was so excited to see Claire and hear about her summer. He pulled the VW to the side of the road and gorged on a pretty girl with long silky black hair talking with a robed man holding a newspaper. Jamie admired her hair and curves while watching for Claire. A breeze slipped under her hair letting it dance around her face as she turned around with familiar golden eyes. His mouth dropped open, eyes big as saucers, then she smiled at him. Jamie jumped out of the car and hugged her. All he could do is stare at her and shake his head.

“Ye grew up over the summer, did ye nae.” He could not help himself so he blatantly studied her from head to toe making her giggle. She was stunning, centered, and comfortable in her gorgeous skin. Before he could stop himself he touched her cheek. Yer skin is like a pearl Sassenach, it glows. She smiled at him with warmth in her eyes.

“I’m glad my friend is back. I really hate that bus.”

They walked toward the school and Jamie stole glances whenever her head was turned. “Sassenach, can we go to dinner or coffee tonight. I really want to catch up and hear about yer summer.”

“I would love to! Soon. I have a prelaunch meeting tonight.”

“It’s the only night I don’t have practice,” he sounded disappointed.

“Maybe we can do it next Monday.” Her smile dazzled him, her curves made him weak and he was astounded by the size of her breasts. He wanted to run his finger…

“See ya superstar”

Jamie wanted her to stay so he could finish his examination of her body changes. When she walked away he got an eyeful of her round ass. That works too, he thought.

Football made Jamie’s world circular. His star was on the rise, pretty girls were always around him hoping to be noticed, handshakes from teachers, and reporters flocked to him after every game. Claire watched him from a distance, cut out every article about him, and felt every heartbeat was for him alone. He was her kryptonite and the only time of day that mattered was the fifteen-minute ride to school.

Claire was putting the finishing touches on the equipment she would use in the kinesiology lab. The video guys that signed on to work with her were testing their camera angles and making changes she requested.

Claire opened the door to let the first subject in and saw Jamie leaning against the wall. She smiled,“what are you doing here?”

Ye asked me for an introduction to the best football players that might be test subjects. I searched high and low but there’s no one better than me. I have proof…see?” He held a torn out article from the paper “Best High School Quarterback In The Country.” The other blokes willna be comin. Just me. I changed my homeroom to work with ye. Are ye ready lass.”

Claire was smiling for several reasons. He was hands-down, the best possible test subject, he would honor his commitment to the study, and she gained an hour each day with him. She was thrilled.

A month later Geillis leaned her back against the lockers and read the article about Claire winning entrance to the science competition. There was a picture of Jamie mock throwing the football and about one hundred wires attached to his arm, the video guys behind two cameras and Claire recording data on her clipboard.

“Wow, you guys are really crammed in there and it looks uncomfortable. How did you get Jamie to agree to this?”

“He volunteered after he told the other guys not to come.”

Geillis didn’t pay attention to much unless it hit her on the head. She had a minute and a half to think about it before the next cute boy pinched her, or pulled on her hair. Claire ran a comb through her hair and slammed her locker.

“Why don’t I get attention like that?”

Geillis folded the paper back on the picture and watched Claire’s face look confused. She continued folding until only Jamie’s face was seen. Claire’s gaze went from the picture to Geillis’s eyes. “Why are you always so cryptic Geillis?”

Claire shook her head and walked to her next class. Geillis stood staring after her wondering what could make the big-man-on-campus volunteer so much time?

Jamie’s tension was mounting as playoffs grew near. He was aware of the scouts and recruiters in the stands for every game, multiple videos capturing every single move, good or bad. He wanted more than anything to win the championship again for the coach, his father, Miss Abby, and every single person who had cleared the way for him.

Jamie looked for Claire who was never hard to find due to all her equipment and team buzzing around her. She was behind a camera with a huge protruding lens. He looked directly into it and for a full minute, he let his face tell her how much he needed her now.

Claire saw Jamie’s eyes like he was right in front of her. She felt him reach across the field and touch her cheek. Hot tears pressed into her eyes and she blinked hard to clear them. Then he moved out of frame and she stood up as he ran back to the line. She wiped her face quickly and took some deep breaths before getting back to her work.

After spending so much time together this past semester he had become her dearest friend as well as her secret love interest. On warm days, she would meet him on the field after practice and they would talk about their families. Claire could picture Scotland so clearly in her mind when Jamie talked about his home. Most times he made her laugh but sometimes she felt his deep yearning for his family, his isolation from the seat of his heart. When she told him about her parent's death and being raised by Lam in Egypt, he was silent until she finished. He pulled her to her feet and gave her a hug that shot fireworks off in her brain and she clung to him.

It was a slow, steady climb to a trusting friendship, unencumbered by passion that often precludes a deep understanding of the other. They were the oddball couple/not a couple at school, protected from teasing and gossip by the unwavering respect that Jamie commanded. It was Claire’s pink bubble.

The game was close to a mercy-rule point difference where the coaches would end the torture. Coach DiBiaso called Jamie in to run a play that was complicated, and so far, only done in practice. If it worked, it would be a miracle. Jamie called the play in the huddle and then altered the position of two players knowing he would catch hell from the coach but seeing no alternative. Many worried eyes flicked at Jamie’s as they ran to formation. The play went perfectly and the game was called for their 48 point lead.

Jamie found Claire in the lab looking at the new video. “Are ye ready soon lass, should I wait?”

“Two things, I am done for the night. Second, I have one more test to run and then we’re finished with testing.” She smiled at him sincerely. I would be grateful for a lift home tonight. She packed up and shut the computers down, and flicked the lights off.

Jamie picked up her camera case and led the way to his car. “How do you manage to carry this heavy case to yer house Sassenach? Why won’t you let me know where ye live? I know every other detail about ye and it’s makin me feel hurt, right here.” He was joking but the truth was thinly veiled.

“Don’t be ridiculous Jamie, there are two feet of muscle in front of your heart so it can’t be hurt.”

He put his hand on the back of her neck, one of his favorite friendly touches that made Claire feel warm inside.

“This last test I have is an hour and a half so we have to do it after school. Just let me know the best day with your busy schedule.” She looked up at him, “it will be weird not seeing you every day after that. It has been fun and the data is better than I could ever have imagined. Thank you, Jamie.”

“Yer welcome lass. I know it will help football in some way, and you, so it was an honor. Which driveway might I pull in?”

Claire looked up nonchalantly like this was an everyday occurrence, “three houses on the left.”

Claire said her usual see ya tomorrow and piled out of the car, lugging her case up the steps of her brownstone. He felt so close to her sometimes but…he didn’t know what he was feeling lately. If she would just give him a sign she wanted more it would be so easy, he thought. But she never did.

Jamie had hundreds of colored wires stuck to his shoulder and arm as he completed the last test.

“I only need ten more minutes of your time superstar. Shirt off please.” Claire was clinical and no-nonsense as she grabbed a container of white goo. When she turned around her face was just six inches from his naked chest. She gasped and her eyes roamed his muscled chest, nipples, then up to his thick shoulders and finally his face and those beautiful eyes.

Jaime agreed to help Claire and possibly the sport of football but he rarely felt like anything more than a test subject to her. He was very confused about the Sassenach but in his honest moments, he realized she wasn’t into him as a boyfriend and while every other girl in school wanted to drop their panties for him, Claire seemed impervious to his stardom.

Claire looked at his face and worried he was feeling exploited. She touched his hand and felt a jolt of lightning not expected. After clearing her throat she asked quietly if he was alright to continue. Jamie was forming the word no in his mouth as his eyes swept across Claire’s face. In that second he saw it. The blush, dilated pupils, open lips, pleading eyes. He couldn’t identify each of the signs but he was a keen observer of what happens to a girl when she wants to kiss.

“I’m fine to go on Sassenach.”

“First position please,” said just above a whisper. Jamie drew his arm back in a mock throwing position. Claire dipped the tip of her finger into the white goo and placed a dot of the liquid every three inches. She weaved in and out of Jamie’s space with her goo and ruler and then stood between his raised arms and bent legs to add drops up his torso, neck, and chin. Jaime stared straight ahead struggling to gain control over his desire to drop his arms and finally touch her. He felt cold goo drip onto his cheek.

“Goddammit,” she whispered. “It’s almost over, I promise, please don’t move.”

One of the graphic techs ran over with a stool and wet cloth and helped Claire stand on it to remove the drip. Jamie watched her intently. Her mouth barely inches from his, arms raised to his face, she moved around him so carefully and so close he could feel her breath on his face.

“Lights gentlemen.” Jamie heard the whir of the cameras coming to life, he saw the light pulse that Claire directed at his throwing side. “Go ahead Jamie, give me all you got.” He was ready to lose it when she said that but he attempted to complete his throwing motion while she encouraged him.

Jamie was breathing hard from the proximity to Claire when one of the techs called out to stop.

“Claire, his sweat is distorting the picture.”

Claire climbed back on the stool and held his face as she dried his sweat. Her eyes lowered to his and he saw the jolt go through her. I’m sorry lass, he thought, but I’m comin for ye and I canna stop. He lowered his arms which encircled Claire and he watched her eyes close as if she wanted nothing to interrupt the feeling. He pulled her closer to him, lips an inch from each other.

“Release your team Sassenach so I can kiss ye.”

“Um, um, that’s a wrap for tonight. Thank you, gentlemen, out, everybody out!”

When the door closed behind them Claire was ready to get down from the stool.

“Stay,” he whispered as he closed the distance between them and then pressed his lips to hers, quickly losing his battle for a slow chaste kiss and forcing her lips open to allow his tongue. He knew she had experience with kissing by the way she angled her head and breathed. Whoever he was, Jamie thought, I’m gonna kiss away every memory of him.

Claire pressed her lips to Jamie’s and got lost in the sensation she had dreamed about for the past year. She knew she should be worried but could not think of a single reason why.

Jamie watched her face. The arousal was obvious making him want to dance a jig around the lab. Her slight smile and sparkling eyes were magnetic and he wanted to lose himself in them. Claire reached for the wet towel and started to wipe the dots off his arms and torso. They said nothing and Jamie watched her hands and the towel touch his skin. She held him to her with one hand while she wiped the dots from his torso and neck. She pulled his face down to wipe the dots on his face and he crushed her to him. He broke the kiss but kept his face an inch from hers and when she looked at him he whispered, “Surrender Claire.”

Claire’s heart took off like a rocket and she had not seen it yet after an hour of kissing. She vaguely considered saying something but that would prevent more kissing so she just smiled and lifted her face to his.

“We should go Sassenach.” She fell against him and whimpered. He put his arm around her and walked her to the door. Looking down at her, “Ye dinna turn anythin off yet.”

“Hmmm?”

He chuckled at her expression, “come, lass, ye need to turn all this off before we go.”

When they were walking to the car, Claire leaned into Jamie and felt his arm around her. He walked her to the door of her house and kissed the breath out of her. He decided she may have kissed before but that was all. He pulled her hands to the back of his neck and felt the length of her press into him. That was too much for Claire who backed up and said goodnight rather quickly.

Jamie’s joyous exuberance was not to be denied and he launched his body into a front flip off the fifth step, landing and laughing at the honking and hooting motorists.

Claire had a permanent smile as she got ready for bed. She wondered if Jamie was thinking about her and if he wanted to kiss again. She shot a text off to Geillis C: U up? G: Bed, cramps, no C: get better, Jamie kissed me like a million times tonight The phone rang.

********************************* I filled my lungs with a deep breath of fresh mountain air and exhaled smiling. I was lost in my daydream, memories actually, of my first year at Catholic Memorial. I have not thought about those people in years. I felt a chilling wind blow across me and climbed out of my hammock picking up my books. It smelled like rain. I watched the trail for my wonderful husband to return. When the cloud above ripped open I took refuge in the tent.

I fell back on the foam rolls and sleeping bags carefully laid out for a reunion of souls and giggled to myself. I offered him two choices, an extravagant weekend at a resort, or camping high in the mountains. Knowing his choice already, I had the camping gear stacked in the corner of the utility room, ready to go.

“Where might the love shack be?” He ran his hand up my back making me shiver.

I tried to whisper my answer because his face was millimeters from mine but he couldn’t wait and kissed me dizzy. He ran his hands all over my body making me shake for him. My reflective state of mind brought back every gasp and gaze on the way to paradise before we left.

I smiled and stretched in the warmth of the tent until the first drop of water hit my forehead. The eyes flew open and I saw a line of water drops lined up on the roof of the tent waiting for their turn to fall. “Shit.” I put my biggest bowl under the drips and considered driving back down the mountain to purchase a new love shack. It would have to wait for this rain to stop and the return of my heart with his stringer full of fish no doubt.

I heard banging outside and unzipped the tent flap barely seeing his outline in the downpour. A cooler flipped open, a clunk from a stringer of fish, and footsteps in the mud. My God, I thought, this impromptu camping trip was supposed to be beautiful weather, a calm lake, and two days to forget the world.

I called out to leave his sopping clothes outside and scrambled out of my halter top and shorts. Jamie poked his head in smiling with pure joy and took the towel I offered. “Ye ordered the weather from Scotland did ye? Ah, I know ye did, it’s why yer my favorite wife Sassenach.” His eyes raked over me from end to end as he prowled closer and whispered, “it’s one of the reasons.”

He had been away at football camp for six weeks and we were hungry for each other.

“Do I smell like fish Sassenach?”

“I don’t care. Come here, love.”

Sometime later I laid in Jamie’s arms with my head on his chest.

“Listen,” he said at last, softly. “Do you hear?” At first I heard nothing but the rushing of the wind, and the trickle of rain, dripping through the holes of the roof. Then I heard it, the steady, slow thump of his heartbeat, pulsing against me, and mine against his, each matching each, in the rhythm of life.

The palm of his hand slid down my body from my shoulder to my knee. I was drifting in my euphoria, eyes closed, remembering how Jamie claimed my body in the last hour, rather roughly I might add. It’s about possession, and dominance, I think, and it calls to a place deep in my soul making me submissive, a slave to his pleasure and my arousal climbs to the stroke range. When that part of Jamie comes out it is he who wakes up with bloody scratches and bruises. It’s like date night for the neanderthal in each of us. I giggled at that thought and forced my eyes open.

The look in Jamie’s eyes made me want to weep for him. “What’s wrong love?”

“Yer comin with me to camp next year Sassenach, I insist. Some of the guys brought their wives, and some had a kid with them! I felt jealousy for what they had and then I got…grumpy.”

“What? You are the best quarterback in the entire country,” I kissed his cheeks, eyes, and throat as I talked, “you do not get grumpy.”

“Well, accordin to the team, if ye dinna come with me next year, they arna comin.”

He rolled me on top of him, “tell me yer comin next year, Sassenach.”

“I’m coming next year to spring training, and every year after that, so help me God. You are the only star in my sky James Fraser.” I let the tears fall because I was overwhelmed at the moment.

“There should be ample room for one tiny star then? When you are ready?”

“Of course Jamie, but two tiny stars or even three might be better. Do you agree my love?”

Jamie blinded me with his smile and wrapped me in his warmth.

“That will be just fine Sassenach.”

[renafx]

Prologue: Calm Before the Storm

It was a rainy saturday morning the day I was directed to investigate. I had launched out of bed in a hurry, my clock blinking slugglishly as if in no rush. It didn’t do the job it had been made for, and resulted in my late awakening. Somehow (I like to believe by no fault of mine), I was an hour late to clocking in and my phone was lit up with multiple missed calls from my job. This was a normal day for me, for a long time. That is, until the smell of rust leaked into my nostrils for a quick moment; then the rest of my life.

——————————

I shrugged on my dark blue blazer, grasping a brush and pulling it through my tangled locks. My long black slacks felt loose around my legs, black dress shoes clicking against the crappy wooden floor of my apartment that ran throughout it’s entirety. I rushed to the front door, grabbing my satchel and old car keys on the way out. The door slammed shut, the foundation rattling for 100th time that week. This was probably not considered normal or safe circumstances for living, but it was tolerable and all I could afford while being a detective. I was...let’s just say, living “comfortably”. I made my way to my car, shuffling down the steep metal steps towards the parking lot. I was fully prepared to head to the building per usual, but the ringing of my phone caught my attention. I pulled it out, clicking the small green button and pressing the device to my ear. “Yeah boss?”

“JACKSON!” I flinched from the loud shout, opening my silver door and sliding into the ripped seat. “Where were you!? Janice and Ax were trying to reach you hours ago! We thought something happened!” I rolled my eyes, leaning my head against the seat. “This happens almost every day Mara..I promise I’ll be okay like this. As long as you don’t fire me, that is.” I knew that despite my frequent tardiness, Mara would never fire me. She was a close family friend, and a mother figure for those at the department. She was stern but it was common knowledge within the district that she was far too nice for her own good. “Eve, hun. You know I won’t fire you, and I appreciate you calling me back. This has got to stop eventually...” Mara sounded concerned, tone softening in warning. I sigh at her tone, beginning to feel guilty. “I know, I know. I’ll try to set my alarm tonight so I wake up on time...”

“Try?”

“I will.”

“Okay, good. Well, for starters, I need you to make your way to the address I am going to send you. This is the place you will investigate for the recent disappearances of around 6 possible children. Ax will meet you there and provide more details on the case. There is not many.” Mara sent the address, my phone dinging with the sort of urgency that always ticked me off. What’s it so frantic for?

“Is that all? Will I be required to head back to the department after investigating for the day?” I hoped not, knowing I would need a hot cup of caffeine after work for pure enjoyment among dread. “No, you won’t need to. I’d like for you to visit if you can remember to, but no worries.” Mara sounded hopeful at the thought of seeing me. I smiled gently, muttering into the phone. “I will try for sure Mara, thanks for being the best. I gotta get going though.”

“Alright, good luck and be safe.” Her tone dropped again in worry, her desire for a good status quo overpowering her better judgement.

“You too...Bye.” I looked down as the line went dead, dropping my phone on the passenger seat. “God this is gonna suck...” I groaned, shoving my keys into the ignition and pulling out the barren parking lot.

The rain struck my car and pelted my window, making me switch on the windshield wipers to avoid an accident. Everything was dangerous nowadays, causing the speculation of society’s technological advances safety. I shrugged, being a bit appreciative of cars and the limited time it took to arrive at the pizzeria. My wheels screeched loudly as I pulled roughly into the parking lot that came into view. It was well lit up, with chipping lines that indicated parking spots. The restaurant itself was also something of curiousity, the kids attraction rubbing me the wrong way.

My eyes flickered over the semi-full lot, spotting Axel’s red ferrari crookedly parked. I always questioned why he was able to drive a personal vehicle of such glam for a job like a detective, and with such messiness too. Some people were granted privileges if they worked at the department long enough, like Axel and I. It sure was convenient, but maybe not for the driver that wanted to get into the next open space. I pulled into the parking spot next to him, shutting off the engine and pushing the silver door open. It was time to get to work and I couldn’t waste any more time; if I did, Axel would have my head on a stick. I clambered out of the car, snatching my note pad and phone and stuffing them in my wide pockets.

I shut the door with my hip, striding up to the attraction in slight hesitance. This place was creepy as hell. It made sense for the kids to go missing here...or maybe that was why it was creepy to begin with. Probably. My eyes were casted downards, my mind not acknowledging the greeting of the bane of every driver’s existence. “Hey hot wheels, why didn’t you answer my calls earlier?” I jumped slightly, body frozen and eyes alert. “Axel- hey! Sorry about that...I overslept.” I rubbed the back of my neck and laughed nervously. “Again?” I looked down in embarassment and sighed. “...Again.” He chuckled, thumbing my car. “You drivin around like you have insurance on that thing?” Axel mocked me cheekily, grin on his stuble covered face.

“Yeah, okay smooth man. At least I can park properly.” I crossed my arms and began to walk forward again, Axel keeping pace with me. “Ouch E, I’m wounded.” He put a hand to his chest and laughed loudly like some funny joke was said. “Some day you will be just by the way you park. You act like you stood the whole world up and just remembered ya gotta do somethin’” I snickered.

“Happened to you before?”

I glared at him and shook my head. “You are on thin fuckin ice, tracy.” He held his hands up in defense, shrugging at me. “So. This case. What you got Ax?” I questioned, not quite up to date with the events that occurred here. “There is a lot of things that happened here actually, but we are unsure of how they happened. Bite of ‘83, ‘87 leaving kids severely injured. They said machine malfunctions, but we have reason to believe that these incidents were planned. Around 5-6 children went missing here and all at once. People in the area reported a putrid smell coming from the animatronics, and it’s worrying. We have to look into this.”

He looked shaken simply by talking of the horrible past here. “I wish we weren’t assigned here though...” His eyes were wide, as he stared at me. He paused and shook himself out of it, eyes turning sorry. “Don’t worry. The feeling is mutual. This is terrible..” I looked up at the big bubble letter sign, grief passing over me for a brief second. How could someone take innocent children in a place like this? This restaurant was supposed to be for enjoyment, not terror.

“We have to find out what happened and put the fucker responsible behind bars.” I grit my teeth, hoping Axel wouldn’t try to stop me. Nothing would convince me at this point to slow down, because I knew if I went missing I’d want people to look for me. “I won’t stop you E..but you and I need to be careful. We can only get so invested. We are detectives, not genuine law enforcement.” He reasoned with me slightly, somehow calming me down. “Yeah..I suppose. Let’s do this, we’re losing light.” He nodded at me, walking ahead of me, yet I could not focus on his passing olive green shirt. I had a bad feeling about this.

It all went by so fast. The questioning. The investigating. The back room.

I had met William Afton as soon as I had entered the restaurant, and something about him made me terrified. I quivered like a leaf and pranced around his sight, attempting escape. I thought it worked, but I was sadly mistaken. I knew that when I walked into that backroom, looking over my shoulder, I woild find things I didn’t want to. When I had further investigated, the overwhelming smell of blood, mucus and rust bombarded me. It choked me, just as the sight of blood and random animatronic suits froze me in place. No, I had thought. Please no..not them.

I moved forward that day, and the sight of little bloody objects scared me to the core. Little tiny teeth, littered around the room. They were placed everywhere I could see, and I could barely see. They looked as if they had been unintentionally knocked out, which struck me all at once. OH GOD. I grabbed my notepad panicky, breath speeding up as I struggled to scribble the words on the yellow lined paper. I didn’t get to write much before the sound of the creaky metal door threw me out of my fearful stupor. OH GOD. OH GOD. OH GOD.

“Looks as if you’ve been looking where you shouldn’t have, little detective.” I gasped, going to turn but falling forward as harsh metal cracked against my head. I groaned in pain, the notepad knocked out of my hand and out of view. My eyes widened, forcing my body to turn. Pain shot through my head and the entire rest of my body, a choked scream suffocating me. I looked up the best I could at the towering shadow, beginning to plead with my eyes and voice. “PLEASE DON’T.” He winded back. “NO! PLEASE NO!” It all happened so fast, at least at the moment; but I knew my life flashed before my eyes. OH GOD.

“Lights out, little bird!” White shiny teeth glittered in the filtering light, the metal pipe thrashing through the air and destroying my vision. My head slammed against the ground, tears falling from my eyes. It hurt so much, and I was terrified to no end. No amount of begging would save me, and I hated it. I was so powerless. The smell of rust was strong, and as was the blood. But who’s was it this time? Mine? Theirs? All I knew is it made me more dizzy than I was before the second hit. My body jolted and I grunted weakly, my legs being dragged further into the room. OH GOD.

I don’t know what happened next. All I knew was that the once not so present smell of rust became stronger, enveloping me whole. My body bent and squirmed against cold metal, forceful shoves leaving scrapes that bled openly. This was disastrous. How would those kids ever get justice? How would I ever save myself if this was how I was being treated? It wasn’t fair.

I DON’T WANT TO DIE.

Wet droplets fell faster. Whether they were blood, sweat or tears didn’t matter. I don’t know how long I was in the dark, and if my eyes were even open. It was pitch black in the room just as it was behind my lids, and it was horrible. My cushion-y body was pressed into a suit, I presumed. I could not see my new appearance, yet I knew that I was dying as the time dragged on. I was suffocating on my own blood and the darkness that held me there, and pointy parts of the suit were impaled in me. My legs, my arms..my neck. I was trapped.

I knew that day I died. Death never terrified me more, especially when I thought of how those kids must of felt being locked away in old animatronic personas.

More clasps had locked on my torso by the time he had stepped back from me. He held a large head for the animatronic in his arms, his eyes looking over his long nose and judging me. I could not see yet I knew the next steps to my demise, the similarly rust coated mask being slammed over my head on to my shoulders. He laughed to himself, and I cried. All I could remember was the agony and fear I felt as he did what he pleased with my corpse. I was concious yet somehow, dead. I felt like some curse had been casted on me and left me in a wretched vessel, falling apart.

I remembered other things too. Like the note, for example.

One that nobody from the outside would see.

——————————-

Keon sat on the floor, leaned against her old mattress that rested on a rather pristine floor. She hugged a squishy pillow tight to her chest, her alarm clock ticking to 7AM and erupting loudly. Keon turned her head slowly, slamming her hand on the off button. Her eyes were barely staying open, dark bags weighing her face down. Nightmares kept her up, and her sleeping pills barely worked anymore. They were ones that caused aggression and ironically, insomnia. She became used to the dosage though and upped it, attempting to find peace and quiet. Keon knew that doing that on her own wasn’t smart, but her mind raced every night in the quiet which prevented even relaxation. She craved temporary release from the world that haunted her memories, and maybe more time on top of that.

She laughed to herself depressingly, her loneliness making way for her daily suicidal thoughts. Whatever kept Keon going was a miracle. Her laughing trailed off and stopped completely, the irony not being funny anymore. She threw the pillow off to the side, pushing herself up with one tug. Keon stumbled to the other side of the room and swung her wooden door open, eyes catching sight of a few piled up boxes leaning against the far wall. They were full of clothes and other belongings that she had not gotten the chance to unpack yet. She scratched her head, pondering when she should strew everything around the apartment. She supposed that she would do it tonight, but it was mostly a passing thought.

Keon didn’t care enough to bring them into her room, walking past the boxes and down the small set of stairs that led to her living room and kitchen combined. She slid past the wall and reached for the curtains, pushing them open and allowing light to flood in to the sad little home. She didn’t consider this place much of a home though. She wanted to live with a partner some day, even if it was in the same place. Keon craved interaction, but did not know with who. Maybe a nice man? Though, she could never admit to herself that men weren’t on her radar when she thought of loving someone, and neither could she admit that to her family. They were significantly worse than the somewhat judgemental public, causing her to shove all those feelings inside her heart. She wished that she had a nicer family, and a safe place to be.

Keon couldn’t do much about it, so she went along her way and pushed her pain down. Her feet dragged to the counter, halting her at a broken barstool. She wondered if she should of invested in a new seat, but shrugged it off with discontent. She fell on the rickety seat, stretching her arm out to grab the coffee machine and start making her beverage. She stared dead at the brewing machine after pressing the button, thinking of how she would be forced to face another tiring day of being jobless. She rested her head in her hands, closing her eyes and nearly collapsing on the wood counter. She was so tired. If she had enough money, she would of gone to the doctor’s for help, but Keon was gifted with a low income family.

Whoop-dee-fricking-doo.

The beeping of the finished coffee snapped her out of her slumber, sleepiness still sitting on the edge of her conciousness. She grasped the hot drink, pulling it to her lips and gulping the bitter liquid. Keon quite liked the bitterness, never passing up *mostly* free coffee. After a few seconds, she brought the drink down to the counter, looking over the bill littered surface. Keon had just moved and she was already making a mess, which made her roll her eyes. She looked a little closer, seeing a rolled up newspaper wrapped in a small bag. She perked up, hoping to find job openings on the daily news. She snatched the paper and stripped it of it’s covering, letting it fall to the ground. Her eyes scanned over the ink, looking for the little squares that usually presented job openings. She had to look for jobs like this a lot, being jobless a lot of the time and struggling financially.

Keon had been lucky with this move, having just enough money to pay for this new apartment. She had no idea how long that would last though, and didn’t want to confront that just yet. At least she wasn’t couchsurfing, she guessed. There were barely any opportunities presented to her, the area she lived in not having many open jobs. After what seemed like hours, she spotted small text in a little square, making her eyes widen in suprise. She had found a job hidden within the newspaper, seemingly put there with bias. Important stuff like this with bad reviews tended to be barely visible to the public, causing trouble for those desperate for work.

Two jobs were listed in the same place, making her eyebrow raise. It was always good to have a choice, so she looked closely and read the individual descriptions written.

—————————-

Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria

Job Openings

Hours: 6:30 AM-5:30 PM

Pay: $6/hour

Janitor- Required to clean the pizzeria before and after birthday parties. Bathrooms and other parts of the restaurant require cleaning.

Hours: 11:30 PM- 6 AM

Pay: $6/hour

Nightguard- Required to watch the restaurant to prevent any damages to merchandise and trespassing.

—————————-

Keon was disgusted with the times available, it either being too early or too late. She’d rather be able to work in the morning though, so the first one would have to do. She looked around for her phone, wondering where she put it. She knew to get the job, she needed to call to get an interview. She got up after not seeing anything, looking around the table again before walking back up the stairs and to her room. She probably left it in her bed, tangled in the blankets after a night of tossing and turning. Keon opened her door after passing the packed boxes once again, spotting her small phone laying on the ground undisturbed.

She picked it up, making sure it still worked after being thrown around the room. She sighed in relief when it lit up, putting her arm down and walking out of the room. She tapped the screen, beginning to type the number for the restaurant. She hopped down the steps, clicking the ‘call’ button and putting the phone to her ear. She tapped her foot against the floor as her previous movement paused, ringing going on for awhile on the other side of the line. She almost thought no one would answer, but the sudden silence echoing in the thinly built apartment indicated otherwise. A cracking voice shuddered out, almost sounding like it was struggling to breathe. “Hello?” It croaked, making her freeze in fear. Keon was never good with these social things, and especially so when the social thing was a creepy middle aged man.

“-Freddy Fazbear’s pizzeria here...”

She shook her head, realizing that the man on the line was speaking directly to her. “Hi! Uh- I was just calling to see if there was still an opening for your restaurant..” Keon trailed off after a moment of quiet, body beginning to shake like a leaf for unknown reasons. One could hear the eyebrow raise over the phone, the man seeming to wonder why someone would ever want to work in a place like his. “Well..you could come here in a few days for an interview when the schedule clears up.”

“That sound’s great- could I do that?” She questioned energetically, happy that the possibility of a job and income was nearing. A hesitant sigh came from the other side of the phone. “...Yeah. Come by Thursday and we’ll see what we can do.” He spoke tiredly, already over the interaction.

“Great! Than-“

The line went dead immeadiatly. Great. He hung up before she could even say thank you. She rolled her eyes, suspicions of the rude man ringing true. Whatever- she’d be able to make a living!

[ask-de-writer]

SPHERIC DISTORTION : a tale from Flocking Bay (1 part)

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

SPHERIC DISTORTION

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

2198 words

copyright 2020

written 1991

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of Fan Activity, whether Fiction, Art, Cosplay, Music or anything else is ACTIVELY encouraged!

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Watching through the clinic window, I saw Mr. Hilstrom get out of his battered ‘52 De Soto and walk up to the door of the Blackwall Street Ophthalmology Clinic. He walked with the care of the aged, avoiding any touch of the round black stones that lined the parking lot and front walk of my recently built clinic.

I am Dr. Fredricks, Ophthalmologist, the only eye doctor in Flocking Bay. My practice is growing in a satisfactory way but I am still a newcomer in the nearly closed society of this small Maine town. In spite of my name, my background is almost pure Iroquois. My father changed his name to make his family less conspicuous in white man̓’s society.

“Doc, you gotta help me out,” Mr Hilstrom started, as soon as he got through with the receptionist and we introduced ourselves. “The license bureau says that if I can’t see better, I can’t drive no more. It’s plain ridiculous what they say. I had these glasses more’n twenty years. Had to go all the way to Bangor for ‘em. Now they tells me they ain’t good ‘nough. Humph,” he muttered, “all the way to Bangor, and they ain’t good ‘nough.”

“Well, you know how it is,” I sympathized. “In twenty years, things do change. Mostly, it’s damn government rules.” I added as a face saver, “Maybe they changed how well you have to see for driving, now.”

“I knew I was right to come to ya, young as you are,” he agreed heartily. “You do understand how things is. They can’t stop the last member of the oldest family of Flocking Bay from drivin’. Tain’t right.”

“Quite so,” I agreed politely, “Why don’t you tell me how Flocking Bay was started while I run the tests those same bureaucrats make me run to prescribe new lenses? By the by, you do want to save fifty or sixty dollars, don’t you?”

“Sure, Doc, how?” he asked in a friendly way.

“I’ll just put the new lenses into your old frames. They’re perfectly good frames, even if they are twenty years old, and they fit you exactly. Works of art they are.”

“Yep, right as rain to come here,” he cackled, gleeful at the thought of saving money. With left eye covered, he looked at the chart and said confidently, “An ‘E’ and some blurs. You allus hears about white and Indian didn’t get along.” Covering his right eye, he added, “An ‘A’,

I think, an’ some blurs - didn’t see you switch charts, Doc. Flocking Bay was the result of cooperation, pure and simple.”

“Good grief,” I thought to myself, “His glasses weren’t that strong, and he can’t read the ‘C’ on the top of this chart. The man’s a menace on the road!” Aloud, I said, “Yes, the charts come from a projector over here, and I switch them around so kids can’t memorize a chart and fool me about how good their eyes are. Cooperation? White and Indian? That’s real interesting.”

As we progressed through the various tests of visual acuity, visual field, glaucoma, and astigmatism, the whole ‘interesting’ story came out. Appalling, I would say, since it was the same story that I already knew but told by the side that won. It was told with smug, callous satisfaction. Here, in essence, is what he told me.

“It was near enough to three hundred years ago that a smallish tribe lived in the Flocking Bay area. They was called the Marquoots or Marquosts or some such heathen name. The bigger tribes around ‘em was afeared of their evil magics and shunned ‘em. They didn’t have no chief. They was lead by a Shaman with no name. He only had a a title as nobody remembers no more.

“The tribes all around ‘em made a deal with the white men. If the white men ‘ud use their guns to kill the Shaman at a distance, then their evil magic ‘ud be stopped ‘fore it c’d start. The white men ‘ud get help in destroying the rest of the tribe, and they c’d have the Marquost land to settle. A bullet in the Shaman̓s back, from ambush, did for him in spite of his black magics. That first bullet was fired by a Hilstrom.

“At the heart of the Marquost evil and black magic was a big solid slab of black stone, standing at the south end of their village. At its base was a lot of round black stones. On top of them stones, up ‘gainst the slab, all the growed-up villagers was kilt and their bodies was left there to rot. The kids was took by the other Indians to raise as slaves.

“All the bodies vanished and was never found. Nobody seen it happen. They was just gone.

“Over the centuries, that slab got two things: the name Blackwall, an’ a nasty reputation. It stayed standing in spite of crow-bars, gunpowder, an’ even dynamite. Through the years since, bunch of people has vanished somewheres near it. They named Blackwall Street after it.

“Those good Indians kept their word and white folks settled Flocking Bay.”

When the testing was done, I offered, “Let me take your frames now. I will drive you home in your car. I have a lab here at the clinic and I will make your lenses for you by tomorrow. You will have to return by bus or cab. If you give me a fare receipt or ticket, I’ll take the cost of the ride off of your lenses.”

“That’s mighty decent, Doc. You can’t make much, if you treat all your patients this good,” he accepted with a slightly snaggletoothed smile.

I took his old glasses and closed the clinic for the day, explaining as I did so, “Your story was worth it, by itself. Besides, you deserve special consideration as the last direct descendant of Flocking Bay̓’s founders.”

As we climbed into the old De Soto, he gave me the key and said, “I wish more folks felt the way you do, Doc. Most just think I’m some sort of crackpot with crazy stories. Just live straight down Blackwall, t’other end of town.”

I mostly drove in silence. Not only was the old car noisy, I was doing a lot of thinking.

“Here we are, Doc. On the left.” As I pulled into the drive, I saw that the house was very old. It was in good repair but needed paint. Hand squared beams and planks showed past the paint in many places. The front steps were worn almost through by generations of feet. The shrubs were untrimmed, and the yard was roughly overgrown with weeds.

“Hilstrom House,” he announced with such pride that you could hear the capital letters. “First house built in Flocking Bay. All the Hilstroms have been born here, lived here, and like as not, died here,”

“I’ll get a bus, down the block,” I said. “You know, there ought to be some sort of marker or something, to let people know. This house is part of their history. See you tomorrow,” I called as I headed out the drive, toward the bus stop.

Returning to the clinic, I went into the back, which was divided into living quarters and lab. I fixed a Spartan dinner while I contemplated the food for thought that I had got from Mr. Hilstrom.

I am an Iroquois by birth and blood but not only Iroquois. My many greats grandmother (most Indian tribes are matrilineal and neither the Iroquois or the Marquost were exceptions) had been sold to the Iroquois for a basket of maize and a haunch of venison. Recognized for her wisdom and hard work, the daughter of the Marquost shaman had been adopted by the honorable Iroquois. I was her last descendant.

I had come to Flocking Bay to close the ring of the past. The early diaries in the library had been frustrating. They all gave second hand accounts, told by people who came after the fact, reporting the massacre as a horror already done and none had named the settlers responsible. Now, fate had given me the last descendant of the man who, with a fatal bullet, had destroyed my ancient people. We have not forgotten, nor have they. It was time to make our own special peace.

I set about making his lenses, grinding them with care, perfectly to his prescription, yet just a bit thicker than strictly necessary.

The next day, Mr. Hilstrom arrived and picked up his glasses. He was surprised. “Everything’s crystal clear!” he exclaimed happily, “But everything’s bowed an’ bent, too!”

“Yes,” I told him, “that effect is called spheric distortion. It is a bit unsettling at first. You should hardly notice it, after a few days. If you are still having trouble on Saturday, come to see me by bus. I live in the back, so I’ll be here. Be sure not to drive until we have the problem fixed, OK?”

“OK, Doc,” he said and left.

I knew that he would be back. The extra thick lenses would cause so much spheric distortion that he would have to return.

On Saturday, Mr. Hilstrom came again. “Doc, I tell you, it’s ‘nough to make a man paranoid,” he stated as he lay on the couch in my living quarters. “Everthin’ as used to be straight, you know, phone poles, tree trunks, even walls, now they bow away from me in the middle. The closer I get, the worse they bend. It’s walls that are worst.

“Every wall, if I gets close to it, bows away in the middle but the top arches over me! The corners! They looms even further around! It’s like the wall was gonna fold in on me!”

I smiled reassuringly, “It may surprise you but I know exactly what you mean. My own first glasses were wicked that way. Turns out I can fix most of it very easily.”

As he handed over his glasses he said, “Don’t think much of your sense of humor, Doc. Paintin’ this wall black, I mean. The old Blackwall used to be hereabouts.” He leaned back on the couch and patted the wall behind him. As he did, a look of alarm crossed his face.

“A frame adjustment is all that you need,” I told him and then with straightforward honesty, “As for the Blackwall, that is it. I have been living next to it for six months, now. No harm has come to me.

“When I came here, the land it was on was the cheapest in Flocking Bay, because nobody wanted it. Using it as a main part of the building saved me near $8000.00 on construction costs.”

“Don’t know if that was wise, Doc,” he fretted. “Using it may have saved you good money but folks tell bad stories about the Blackwall.”

“You want something really funny?” I laughed, “I am an Iroquois but my lots of times great grandmother was sold to them as a slave. She was the daughter of the last Marquost Shaman. If any Marquosts were left, I would be their Shaman.

“Now, here we are, each the last descendant of ancient enemies. I am fixing your eyes so that you can go on driving and you have given me valuable family history that I could never have gotten in any other way. As for the famous Blackwall, the State Department of Geology says ‘basaltic intrusion in a sedimentary formation.’ That’s all.

“There is an old Marquost saying that has come down in my family: ‘The best peace is with an ex-enemy.’

“You just relax while I go into the lab and adjust these frames,” I said as he settled back on the couch, calm again.

At the door, I looked back and said, “You won’t have to be afraid of every wall in Flocking Bay any more. You’ll see …”

Once in the lab, I put down his glasses and picked up an ancient stone knife. I lightly cut the ball of my thumb. I pressed the bleeding thumb to the Blackwall. I felt a slight shudder in the stone. When I took my thumb away, it was healed with no trace of the cut. There was no blood on the Blackwall.

“Yes,” I said to myself as I came back into my living quarters, “You don’t have to fear every wall. Only this one.” I rolled the round black stone that was all that was left of Mr. Hilstrom off my couch and out to a place along my front walk with all the other stones. “Yes, the best peace is with an ex-enemy - especially if he’s a dead one.”

THE END

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

This completes Spheric Distortion. If you enjoyed what you just read, please go to the Master Story Index for links to all of the stories that I have posted on Tumblr.

[ithinkitwastheriver]

When a parent dies, a daughter or a son loses, for a moment, their bearing in the world. They must reorient, and relocate themselves in the most intimate and visceral way. And every loss is unique, and every reorienting is a lonely, solitary journey. I don't think it matters one's age. We are children left alone to continue.

My dad was a rock, firmly planted in doing what is right. He didn't always understand his determined and driven daughter, Hell-bent for a path he couldn't see. He thought I could be an attorney, I didn't want to sit at a desk. His love never wavered. He told me plainly when he thought I was wrong, but love was unconditional. He was the foundation from which I grew.

From the time we were pretty young, we had the run of the creek and the hills and the gravel roads every summer, but when Dad stepped onto the porch and whistled, it was time to get home. You could hear that whistle for miles. He didn't ask twice.

He taught me to think. He taught me to see the world through eyes that understood it as a wonder, full of people whose ways of being might be different, but were deserving of dignity and the right to exist as they are. He understood that it is arrogance to believe all the world's people should live as we do, and that as visitors, we should be grateful and humble.

He had the perspective of a wise and learned world traveler, though he didn't get to be one. He was an avid reader, reaching for greater knowledge and seeking the truth, interested in History and Science and the world. He valued wonder & curiosity, he wanted to know how things worked. He understood systems before that was a field of study. He approached his work with the mind of an engineer.

Dad hauled us into the yard in the middle of the night one January when I was about 7, to see the Northern Lights. I can still see them. I've seen them 3 times since, and have always, will always remember that first time. I hear they were visible again last night. Perhaps God's way of saying "Well Done, and welcome home." I went out at 2am in hope of seeing them, but there were heavy clouds and it was raining. Dad telling me to go to sleep.

Dad and my brother were inseparable. From the time my brother was about 6 years old, they were wrestling, racing motocross, and tinkering in the shop. When Mike was old enough to work, he helped dad build a business, and bought it when Dad retired. They rode the big bikes together through Central Oregon only a month or so ago. It was their shared love.

Like all humans do, Dad made big, painful mistakes. He carried a lot of weight in silence. He rarely let people in. He won battles we can't ever know. He was strong and stoic in the face of pain, much of which I will never understand. He stood tall in a time when that was what men and Daddies were required to do. He had high, unbending expectations. We were, and still are, drivin to earn his approval and respect. He survived many Hells, many of them alone. And yet he came home from Vietnam with pictures of little kids wearing his boots, playing with toys he'd made from old ammo cans, and smiling.

He kept working when work was hard, and hard to find, and made big sacrifices to keep our home in place. He led by his example that if times get hard, you just work harder. My earliest memory is following him to the barn after work when I was about 4 years old. He'd work all day, and come home to milk cows, leaving those big cans for the creamery to pick up. The sound of his voice calling "Here Boss!" echoes in my memories...

For most of my life, he has been the smartest, most broadly educated person I knew, although he barely graduated high school because he had to go to work. He was wise. He could be fierce, but he proclaimed that Mr Rogers was something all kids need, because for most kids, no such kindness existed. He could build anything. I believed he could fix anything too. He picked up the guitar after we were grown and gone, and by 70 was playing in local jams. At around 65 he rode his Harley halfway down the Baja to the Sea of Cortez, from Oregon, alone, then called me from the beach to guess where he was. He rode from here to Fairbanks, Alaska. He made big loops through the Rockies from Oregon to Montana to New Mexico and back home. He was 78 and still riding big bikes on big circles.

He was healthy and brilliant and strong right to the end, and died with his leathers on. We all must be called home eventually, and to go in an instant doing what you love is a blessing. I pray that God has a few old dogs, big starry skies and smooth roads to ride waiting for him.

For those left behind, there's never enough time, so much left, aching to learn and know, and rarely a chance to say goodbye...

And oh, how it hurts. My brother and I are reorienting ourselves, relocating our place in the world as best we can. We are children continuing alone, and I am simply not ready for that.

[scrumptiousdonutangel]

All :D

1: Could you go the rest of your life without smoking a cigarette?

Yeah

2: Are you single/taken/heartbroken/confused?

Confused for the most part, kind of trying to get over a crush but holding onto the chance he might like me back

3: What if I told you that you were pretty?

I would probably deny it to the ends of the earth

4: Ever been told “it’s not you, it’s me”?

In some variation, yeah

5: Are you interested in anyone right now?

Absolutely

7: Do you want to be single?

no ; - ;

8: Did you go out or stay in last night?

I went to someone else’s house so kind of both

9: How late did you stay up last night?

not that late, just till midnight

10: Can you recall the last time you realized you liked someone a lot?

yeah like two days ago when I kept catching myself looking at him and then just slowly realized ohhhhhhh shit. I think I might actually like this one

11: Last three things you had to drink?

tea, water, coffee

12: Have you pretended to like someone?

I’ve thought I liked someone and then realized I was wrong, but no, i’ve never intentionally lied about it

13: Have you ever told somebody you loved them and not actually meant it?

I don’t think so

14: Honestly, has anyone seen you in your underwear in the past 3 months?

Definitely 

15: Is it hard for you to get over someone?

It depends on how things ended

16: Think back five months ago, were you single?

Always

17: What were you doing at 12:30 this afternoon?

well last afternoon I was watching romantic comedy trailers and figuring out which to binge next

18: Hold hands with anyone this week?

Yeah, we played a game where we all had to hold hands

19: Could you go for the rest of your life without drinking alcohol?

no

20: What would you name your future daughter?

Samantha or Victoria

21: Do you miss anyone?

My friends all live pretty far away so yeah

22: Have you kissed three or more people in one night?

not even close

23: Did your last kiss take place in/on a bed?

I am far too awkward for that

24: Are you good at hiding your feelings?

not at all considering even the people who don’t “know” who I like, totally know who I like

25: Have you ever cried from being so mad?

yeah, it’s the most sureal thing

26: Who did you last see in person?

My friends who live down the road

27: Are you listening to music right now?

I’m listening to always open podcast if that counts

28: What is something you currently want right now?

Poptarts, I’m constantly craving them lately

29: What is the last thing you said out loud?

I think just saying good morning to my mom when I got in

30: How is your heart lately?

physically? fine. Emotionally? Dying a little.

31: Do you wear the hood on your hoodie?

only if it’s raining

32: Are you wearing socks?

yes…. but they’re mismatched as per usual

33: What do people call you?

well my most recent nickname is Bambi which I love cause BAM!!!! Bi!!!!!

34: Will you talk to the person you like tonight?

most likely, we text pretty much everyday

35: Are there any stressful situations in your life?

when isn’t there???

36: Who did you last share a bed with?

a friend of mine while I slept over

37: Did you do something bad today?

I ate poptarts, those are technically bad for my health

38: When was the last time a member of the opposite sex hugged you?

like two days ago, most of my guy friends aren’t bothered by stuff like that

39: Do you get stressed out easily?

boy do I

40: Will you sing today?

Most definately 

41: Have you ever wanted to tell someone something but didn’t?

absolutely, both good and bad 

42: Who do you go to when you need to talk to someone?

There’s a number of friends I go to for different things, some give better advice on certain topics than others

43: Have you ever been taken to the emergency room in an ambulance?

nope

44: What are you listening to right now?

The always open podcast I mentioned before

45: What is wrong with you right now?

there is so much wrong with me, where would I start

46: What is on your wrists right now?

actually nothing, but I usually have some hair bands there

47: Where did you get the shirt/sweatshirt you’re wearing?

it’s the staff shirt I have from last summer, I use it as pjs alot 

50: Are you a good artist?

all art is good, I don’t think bad art exists

51: Love really is a beautiful thing huh?

I’m starting to think so

52: Do you miss the way things were six months ago?

no, I think I’m a better person now

53: Ever been on a golf cart?

Yeah, I’ve drivin one a few times

54: Do you have trust issues?

ohhhhhh yeah

55: Ever stayed up all night on the phone, with who?

I don’t think so no

56: Do you own something from Hot Topic?

you can’t be this nerdy and not

57: Do you use chap stick?

heck yes

58: Have you ever slapped someone in the face?

yeah, but never hard, just a joke slap

59: Do you have a little sister?

I wish

60: Have you ever been to New York?

Yes, it’s lovely

61: Think of the last person who said I love you, do you think they meant it?

Excluding like my parents? then yeah, he’s a total sweatheart so I trust him on it

62: Have you hugged someone within the last week?

I’ve hugged like a billion people within the last week

63: What were you doing at midnight last night?

watching King of Queens for the first time

64: Have you ever regretted kissing someone?

I haven’t been kissed yet so nope

65: Is there one person in your life that can always make you smile?

Practically anyone, I’m a smiley person by nature

66: Were your last three kisses from the same person?

*cries in a corner from loneliness*

67: Have you kissed anyone in the last five days?

Okay now you’re just rubbing it in

68: Would you rather sleep with someone else or alone?

someone else. cuddle buddies are always best

69: Will next Friday be a good one?

I will make it one

[nemoofoz-blog]

"Hamlet As Told On The Streets" by Shel Silverstein

Now Francisco and Bernardo, they was guardin’ the castle, Leanin’ on their spears, not lookin’ for no hassle, Havin’ themselves a brew or two, When out in the night they hear woo-wooo-wooo. And here comes this ghost, lookin’ ragged and rank, In a rusty suit of armor, goin’ clank, clank, clank. They say, "Hey, Mr. Ghost, are you our dear departed king?" But the ghost don’t say one motherfuckin’ thing. He goes, "Wooo-wooo-wooo." They say, "Hey, we better split, And go tell Hamlet about this shit." So they run find Hamlet, they say, "Hey, sweet Prince, Your daddy’s ghost been seen runnin’ hither and hince. He’s all full of maggots and he’s grizzly and grim, Somethin’s rotten in Denmark and -- whew -- we think it’s him." Hamlet say, "Oh, are you sure it’s my pop? Did he have matty gray hair with a bald spot on top? Did he have bright blue eyes that never know fear And a tattoo says GERTRUDE FOREVER right here?" They say, "Hey, the thing just flittered by our station, We didn’t give him no physical examination. And we don’t know for sure if your daddy was the one, But we do know a motherfuckin’ ghost when we see one." Hamlet say, "Show me where you spied this spectral klunk So I see if it’s my pop, or if you was both drunk." So they bring ol’ Hamlet to the spot, and then They wait five minutes and wooooo --- Here he comes again. He got gray skin, black teeth and hollow eyes, Beckonin’ like this -- young Hamlet cries, "Hold, spirit of darness, are you a ghostly apparition?" "No," says the ghost, "I look like this from malnutrition. Of course I’m a ghost, but sone, don’t be scared, And I’ll tell you some shit that’ll fry your hair." He says, "You got two relatives, I won’t say which, But one’s a bloody murderer and one’s a faithless bitch. Why, I was takin’ a nap in the garden right here, When my ambitious brother pours some poison in my ear. And before my body’s even cold he’s wearin’ my pajamas, Layin’ up in my bed with my crown on his head, Doin’ somethin’ sinful to your momma. And the terrible thoughts of what they’re doin’ up there Is more than a poor old ghost can bear. So you gotta revenge me on this harlot and this knave Or else I’ll never rest in my motherfuckin’ grave." Well, this information just flips Hamlet out. He starts walkin’ like this, with spit hangin’ out his mouth. His eyes are all bleary and his tongue looks worse, And he’s talkin’ in couplets and blank fuckin’ verse. I mean the dude is indecisive, He don’t know how he’d like his eggs, And he’s got no opinion on tits, ass or legs. He can’t decide which horse to play at the track, And when they ask him what suit you wanna wear today? He say, "Ah…um…gimme the black." He calls his uncle a murderer, Calls his momma a whore, And he can’t get it up for Ophelia no more. Oh, and Ophelia? She’s tryin’ her best To make him feel better, Wants to polish his crown jewels, But he won’t let her. "Stead of sayin’ yea, the fool says nay, And the whole court’s figurin’ he must be gay. Well, then in come Hamlet’s oldest friends, Rosenstern and Guildencrantz, They say, "Hey there, Ham, you gloomy Gus, Get up – get down – and party with us. We brought you some actors, Some tunes and some lyrics To put on a play to boost up your spirits." Hamlet says, "Hey – songs and skits, That gives me an idea that could stir up some shit. We’ll put on a play – "N" that could be just the thing To catch the conscience of the king, If there is a conscience in the motherfuckin’ king." So Hamlet calls all the actors, he say, "’Fore this drama starts, I’m gonna tell you suckers how to play your parts. You gotta speak the speech like I pronounced it – Don’t rush it, don’t milk it, don’t drag it, don’t bounce it. I mean, do it trippingly on the tongue, Or else I’ll see your thespian asses strung up and hung. And don’t saw the air with your hands flappin’ wild, "N’ don’t go mouthin’ my words in some method style." Then the lead actor says, "Hey – are we alive? Or just some talking meat that’s gotta listen to this jive? I have read this thing you call a script And it ain’t too bad, it’s got a few little dips. But with some new dialogue and a few minor edits – Hey, do you mind sharing writer credits? But this part about the king? -- poisoning his brother? I play this wile the real king’s watchin’? Sittin’ with your mother? You must be out of your cotton-pickin’ mind. He’ll cut out my tongue, he’ll gouge out my eyes, He’ll boil me in oil and send me to hell." Hamlet says, "How about double scale?" – The actor says, "Well… "I want my name above the title, three percent of the gross, I want that tall brunette as my dialogue coach. I want approval of director and a juicy per diem, And if there’s changes in the script, I got to see ‘em. I want a dresser, and undresser and a hairdresser, too, And I gotta-gotta-gotta have the biggest dressing room. I want an escape clause that lets me out in a month, And the first thing I insist is that you fire that cunt. I want transportation to and from every show, I want complimentary tickets for everybody I know. I want my brother and my cousin hired to play in the band, And don’t go tryin’ to sneak in any extra matinees. And next time you wanna speak to me, Check with the director first. Now will you please go away and let us rehearse?" So Hamlet slinks off, lookin’ for a backer, Mutterin’ how he’ll never ever talk to another fuckin’ actor. And him and Horatio, they walk down a ways, Till they see some clown diggin’ a mouldy grave. Hamlet picks up a skull, he says, "Who was this sucker?" They say, "Yorick." He says, "Yorick? I knew the motherfucker. He used to be court jester. Hey, Yorick, show us how You used to make them funny faces – Why ain’t you laughin’ now? I’ve kissed these lips, I know not how oft." And Horatio quips, "Hey, let’s not announce how oft you kissed them lips. I mean people already talkin’ ‘bout the way you walk, And the fact that you ain’t givin’ Ophelia no nook." Oh, and speakin’ of Ophelia – Polonius, her daddy, Says, "Hey, that prince is drivin’ my little girl batty. Got her runnin’ all night and sleepin’ till noon, God knows what else he got her doin’. But he’s our royal prince, lord of earth, sky and water, But he’s also a horny little pimply-faced shithead Trying to hump my daughter." So Polonius calls Ophelia and says, "Listen, darlin’ daughter, I hope you and Ham ain’t doin’ things you shouldn’t oughter, ‘Cause you let ‘em touch an ankle and they wanna grab a knee, And they never buy nothin’ that you let ‘em have for free." Ophelia says, "Hey, Pop, I know the score, You think I wanna wind up another palace whore? I got the dud sendin’ me letters and babblin’ ‘bout the moon, I really do think his bells are out of tune." "Well, don’t you go dingin’ his bells," says Polonius, "’Cause if he throws you in the grass, I’ll get your big brother Laertes to kick his royal ass." Now Laertes overhears his name bein’ bandied about, He says, "Hey, Pop, you signin’ my ass up for somethin’ My head don’t know about?" Plonius says, "Son, it’s Hamlet, that loony tune, Been fed all his life with a silver spoon. He’s in my face and on my neck, I mean the dude ain’t playin’ with a full damn deck. He’s bumblin’ around twirlin’ his crown, And callin’ me a fishmonger all over town. And he’s charmed your baby sister with his rhymes and his riddles. Hey, you think she’s puttin’ on a little weight around the middle?" Laertes says, "Hey, Pop, she ain’t no baby, She got a set of jugs tha’d drive any prince crazy. Now that’s just a natural fact and not lust or incest, And if she shakes ‘em right, she could be a princess." "That’s right," says Ophelia. "That’s my scheme, And the way kings been dyin’ ‘round here, I could wind up queen." "Enough," says Polonius. "That Pince has ruined my day. Now we gotta see his fuckin’ play within a play. Hell, the place’ll be drafty, the seats won’t be com��fa’ble, I wouldn’t go at all but these tickets ain’t refundable. Prob’ly full of symbolism, I won’t understand it, Shit, I hope it rains and all the critics pan it." So they go to the play and everybody’s there. They got diamonds on their doublets, They got ribbons in their hair. Lords, ladies, dogs, babies, all in attendance, The marquee says MURDER, DECEIT AND VENGEANCE. ONE OF YEAR’S TEN BEST. DO NOT MISS IT. So everybody figures it’s another piece of shit. And they’re bitchin’ ‘bout their seats, buckin’ the line, Scalpin’ tickets and sippin’ wine, Rattlin’ their programs, twistin’ in their chairs, Tryin’ to catch if any celebrities are there. Then the play begins – and ooh, looky here – It shows the king puttin’ poison in his brother’s ear. And King Claudius is watchin’, and -- ooh -- is he pissed. He says, "I know who’s responsible for this." He calls, "Hey Gertie, come here, hon. What the hell’s the matter with your jive-ass son? I give the kid room, board ‘n’ remedial education, And he calls me a murderer, and other wild accusations. Hell, I’d sue him for libel for implyin’ that shit. But the libel laws ain’t been invented yet. Just ‘cause I’m bangin’ you, he’s givin’ me hell, I think he wants to hump you his own damn self." Queen Gertrude says, "I think he’s goin’ through An Oedipal rejection, seein’ his uncle Replace his father in his momma’s affection." "Oedipal?" says the king. "The punk is givin’ me some shit. I’ll send him where I sent his pop if he don’t quit. So you tell him it’s better to leave some things unsaid, Or he’ll be puttin’ on his crown without his motherfuckin’ head." So the queen runs to Hamlet, she says, "Oh listen, son, Y’better suck up to the king before some foul deed gets done. It’s true he wears black socks and Hawaiian shirts, But that ain’t no reason to treat him like dirt, Because he is your uncle, and I do wear his ring, And most of all, he is the motherfuckin’ king." "Don’t say mother-fuckin’ king," says Hamlet. "Please, Somehow that phrase makes my blood freeze. My daddy was a handsome dude with dignity and class, And this fat fool got hair on his back and boils on his ass. Can anybody get you in their goddamn bed Just ‘cause they got a crown on their goddamned head?" His momma says, "Hey, before you go off the deep end, There’s some things about women you gotta comprehend. "Now milkmaids and queens, we all have filet mignon dreams, But when the steak is gone, you will eat the beans. And when you’re out of beans, you’ll chew the shoes off their feet, But you eat. Just picture me – a sweet young thing, Then boom – my husband’s dead – and this sucker’s king. So it’s ‘heat the meat and act real sweet’ Or wind up with my ass out in the goddamned street. I got cellulite, I got varicose veins, I got a hip gets stiff every time it rains. And -- this -- is what nursing a baby can do, "Course, honey, I’m not blamin’ you, Though you were such a hungry child, But life goes on and a queen must smile." Then hark – just then Hamlet hears a sound From behind the curtain – like a mouse skitt’rin’ ‘round. But it’s really Ophelia’s daddy, spyin’ for the king, Listenin’ and takin’ down everything. Hamlet yells, "A rat!" and he stabs at the place, And kerplunk, out falls Polonius on his eavedroppin’ face. Hamlet sees it ain’t the king, he says, "Oh shit, Y’finally do take action and this is what you get. Now I killed my girlfriend’s poppa and I’m covered with his blood, How do you explain this to someone you love?" Then here comes Ophelia, callin’, "Daddy, Daddy dear, Hamlet, is my daddy in here?" Well…he is… and he ain’t – but someone should have told the cat Y’don’t wanna get stabbed, don’t make noise like a rat. She cries, "Oh, my daddy’s dead and I can see You stuck it in him like you stuck it in me. I can’t believe the shit you done to me. You used to want all – now you want none of me. Is this your perverted way of makin’ fun o’ me?" Hamlet says, "Hey then, get thee someplace… Maybe a … a nunnery." "Get me to a nunnery?" Ophelia moans, "Now that you ate the chicken, you wanna try and hide the bones? With your poetry and promises you messed up my brain, You are a dirty dog – and not a great Dane." "Please," says Hamlet, "I’m in a crazed condition. Can’t you see I’m torn by indecision? To be or not to be? That’s the fuckin’ question That’s givin’ me migraines and indigestion. Should I take arms against a sea of trouble, Or just walk around goin’ gubble-gubble-gubble?" Ophelia says, "Hey, you don’t fool me a bit, You’re fakin’ all this psycho shit, ‘Cause if you’re insane you don’t have to kill the king, Or marry me or do any damn thing." Ham says, "Hey, go bake a cake, or give your booty a shake, Or take a jump in the motherfuckin’ lake –" Well, that’s where he made another fatal mistake. Y’see he didn’t really mean for the bitch to do it, But she’s gone like a flash, and run, jump, splash, She’s floatin’ and bloatin’ ‘fore anybody knew it. "Oh, when it rains it pours," says Hamlet, "Ain’t no doubt, Here’s another thing I gotta feel guilty about." Well, they have Ophelia’s funeral and everybody’s there. They got diamonds on their doublet, they got ribbons in their hair. They’re rattlin’ their beads and twistin’ in their chairs, Tryin’ to catch if any celebrities are there. And it’s a pleasant event, until into her grave Leaps her brother Laertes and he rants and raves. He’s shakin’ his fist and pullin’ his hair, Gettin’ his ass tangled up in his underwear, Jumpin’ up and down in a frenzied fit, Meanwhile stompin’ her body to shit. He cries, "FEE-FO-FI, if I find the guy who caused her to die, I’ll slice him like a pie. I’ll cut out his heart and send it to Peru, ‘N’ I’ll c.o.d. his balls off to Timbuktu, Ship his dick to England in a registered letter, And then let him try to get his shit back together." Then the king pulls his coat, he says, "Harken to this, Hamlet’s the dude who fucked up your sis. And he also stabbed your daddy, too, And all you do is boo-hoo-hoo? What kind of brother and son are you? If it was my family I know what I’d do, I’d be on him like a damned tattoo. Now… there is a sword with a poisoned tip. It’ll send any sucker on a one-way trip, ‘Cause all it takes is one itty bitty scratch… Hey, Hamlet, how about a little fencin’ match?" Well, then the whole fuckin’ place caves in, Hamlet stabs Laertes, and Laertes stabs him. Then Hamlet turns around and stabs his uncle, too, While the queen drinks some poison the king had brewed. So she dies, he dies, Hamlet dies, Laertes dies On top of where Ophelia lies, Right next to where Polonius died. And before you can wink, blink or turn your head, Chop-stab-slice -- every motherfucker’s dead. Then in walks this cat Fortinbras, he says, "What – is -- this? I have never seen such a fuckin’ mess. You got skulls and swords, you got guts and gore, You got bodies piled up from ceiling to floor. You got broken glass, y’got tangled hairs, You got blood and wine runnin’ down the stairs. You got dented armor and ripped up gowns, You got bent-up crowns just rollin’ ‘round. Y’got a punctured king, y’got a poisoned queen, Y’got a sweet prince dyin’ on the mezzanine. And behind that curtain there’s another dead duff, And a body from the fishpond just floated up. Y’got a stiff in the garden with some gunk in his ear, And a tattoo says GERTRUDE FOREVER right here, And two guards on the gate tower drunk on beer. What the hell’s been goin’ on here?" Well, that was the end of our sweet prince, He died in confusion and nobody’s seen him since. And the moral of the story is bells do get out of tune… And you can find shit in a silver spoon… And an old man’s revenge can be a young man’s ruin… Oh – and never look too close… at what your mamma is doin’.

[abohemianinthewood]

A UnaRobby Manifesto

the UnaRobby

that is I

the Loner

the Una-Robby Manifesto

on Hypocrisy & Pain

     Since I know a little about alot,this will no doubt be alot about a little.

But before all that follows, this happened:

 There & back again(with apologies to Tolkien)

I was 19 in the summer of '74.

My girlfriend had gone to work with a traveling carnival.

I was unhappy with where my band (Columbus) was at and life in New Oxford in general.

I had been to visit friends in West Lake (Charles),Louisiana in the past and knew that there was access to cheap pot,psilocybin mushrooms,and possible work on the shrimp boats.

One sunny afternoon,in June or July,while Mom worked in her garden unaware of my intent,I packed my knapsack,strapped my sleeping bag to same,took the short walk thru the Wood to Rt 15 and stuck out my thumb.

I was on my way to the adventure of my lifetime,and,I found out in my 30's ,in Mom's eyes,running away from home!

I caught the Lincoln Highway,headed West and got picked up by a friend from New Oxford who was riding with a girl I did not know who later became the mother of my children and they carried me to the other side of Gettysburg.

All along this journey I got picked up by a multitude of different types,from old ladies to young kids to business men.

I shall relate the ones that have stuck in my mind.

Outside of D.C.,probably in Virginia,a long-hair in a VW micro-bus headed for Florida picked me up and took me almost to Jacksonville where I planned on getting Rt 10 to West Lake. He stopped to visit his sister in backwoods Florida.She lived in a Spanish Moss covered area and treated me to tea and energy bars for the next leg of my trip.

That leg was arduous! Long,endless,hot tar,road construction,endless heat exhausting.A young girl in a small car is in my memory from this part.She had the vehicle jam-packed with plants(South American,I believe) which had something to do with her botanical studies in University.She also had a small dog.He had been on the passenger seat until I got in,when she put him on the floor at her feet.He kept sitting on the brake pedal:)

It was night and I was tired,riding in some businessman's car as we crossed over New Orleans . The closest I ever got to that magical city was eyeing it's lights from a car seat on a bridge.

I landed at the foot of the Huey Long bridge,on a beach,early morning of the third day of my trip.I remember a few people cavorting in the water and a bench that looked comfortable,finding a phone booth and calling home to let Mom know where I was.She said,"I figured that's where you went".

I looked up my friends,one of which was living in a tent in a local store's clerk's yard.I moved in with him.We snuck into the house with the air-conditioning whenever Gloria,the clerk, felt kind-hearted.

I signed up for the shrimpers and while waiting to hear back drank a lot of wine and beer and hung out in bars with dirt floors where we were the only whiteboys and fancy discos with sassy high school girls from Lake Charles("Oh,but yes!")

Near the end of August I was tired of waiting to work (and actually not feeling like it),so I repacked my sack,was given a bag of peanut butter sandwiches for the road and headed West on my thumb again.

Somewhere around Houston a strange fellow with a colonoscopy bag and a desire to re-establish himself,gave me a ride all the way to Colorado Springs where my sister was living  with her future husband and attending college. Along the way,he picked up two college students who let us stay in their dorm overnite where we drank beer and ate pizza.The driver tried to get them to let him stay there.He did the same in Colorado Springs and my future lawyer frankly told him "no".

I believe I stayed there two days.They lived at foot of Pike's Peak and Ric took me for a drive along the old mountain trails.I had spent the only money I had on a bottle of whiskey,so Barbe lent me $10 to get me home.

She went to school in Denver so she took me  there to catch Rt 70 East  and homeward.

i passed by the Gateway Arch  on foot,in the rain at night.There was also some major ball game nearby at the time.

A carful of Stoners from Weirton,WVa,had been to Indianapolis to pick up a friend and take her home.Somewhere in Indiana they gave me a ride.Her name was Charley and we crashed at her house,they treated me to beers at a local smokey bar and then headed for Three Rivers Stadium to see Suzi Quatro in a daytime concert. i'm quessing they paid my way, cuz I roamed the park area smoking with the crowd and scoring joints to take back as payment to my new-found friends. They then arraigned for a van full of their friends to put me as close to the PA turnpike as possible.

It was raining as i approached the Harrisburg exit.My current ride was traveling on thru so he let me off along the pike and I scaled the fence to get past the toll booths.

i found a phone booth and called home.

Mom came and got me.

i found out later that the Shrimpboats had called for me the day after I left.

And then all this...

http://lonersbloggenses.blogspot.com/2020/07/a-bohemian-in-suburbia.html

Prelude:FEB 28,2009

I’ve been back on ‘theFarm’ for ten years!

I came here to live with Dad in my old Dodge pick-up with a daughter,two cats,Dusky & Grayson,& Lena.The cats died or wandered off,Leenie is buried,Robyn grew up and moved to Boston and I watched my Dad die of cancer.

So,now it’s just me & Japhy and I’m lettin’ him take it easy in his old age.

It’s funny,as a twelve year old boy roaming thru these woods and fields,I never pictured a greying,old man with arthritic hands and a bad back,but today,all I could see was that twelve year old drivin’ a tractor,plantin’ corn,balin’ hay and haulin’ rocks off the fields to pave the back path to the hay fields( which now is beyond gettin back to usefulness,short of gettin a dozer)…and the damn kid is bitchin’ ‘bout the hard work!

Why couldn’t he see what he had?

                                                        2011 & on until morning:

I am a solitary man.I have spent my life putting others at arm’s length and reveling in the fact that I am a Loner. This makes me alone.

While keeping that mind-set,I yearn for the companionship of others,yet cringe at the aspect of going out into the real world and being amongst them.

I am the Father of daughters,the son of a Mother,a brother of sisters and hold the role of the Feminine in the highest regard while also feeling the camaraderie of my fellow males in the degradation of that gender.

I am a child of the ‘60’s,a young man of the ‘70’s,a responsible man of the ‘80’s,a falling and re-discovering man of the ‘90’s and an aging man in this Millennium.

I am sure of myself and I am confused.

I hold dear the radicalism of my youth,yet feel that nothing has changed and i have not been the change i wished to see.

I am a patriot who hates my country.

I am a Socialist and a Communist who holds no regard for those countries existing under said ideologies.

I am an arthritic old man who wants to quit,but can’t.

I worship my body and i abuse it,

i love Nature and I abuse it.

i believe in a work ethic,but i am lazy.

i believe in Solidarity,but prefer Solitude.

I am a Bohemian in the Wood.

4/4/15

a puppy grew up just the other day

and he looked at me,eyes wide,as if to say

I know that it’s a holiday

but if it’s OK with you I’d like to go out and play

cuz there’s squirrels and birds and rabbits and stuff

and laying on this couch ain’t enuf,dad

you know I’d rather be out there

cuz there’s cats in the barn and deer in  the woods

little tennis balls and poop that tastes good

I’ll be playin’ hard and you know that I should

and I’d sure like ya out here with me,dad

ya know I want to be with you…

KIKI

the year was 2005.

my dad died that summer.

my daughter informed me that when she went back to school she was getting an apartment and staying in Boston.

I noticed a sign on my way home from work one day.

it was a board advertising low-priced massages from therapy students at a school in the basement of my bank.

seeing it everyday got me thinking that that would be a nice treat for myself .

every Friday morning after work,what a great way to start the weekend!

I never took the first steps and probably never would have,but,I mentioned my thoughts to my daughters and that Christmas,received a gift certificate to said place!

that lead me to getting a weekly therapeutic massage,every Friday ,after work,with a nice woman,close to my age.

turned out the school owner was a distant relative.

I became a regular in a friendly and relaxing environment.

that summer my regular girl graduated and took work in Maryland (a long drive away)

I had several fill-ins and then was introduced to a young girl who became my new regular.

she was as old as my youngest daughter.

a new mom

black earrings and hair and eye-liner.gothic/emo/punk

very quiet,but,as weeks went by,we began talking,getting to know a bit about each other and her skills impressed and relaxed me as she learned and became proficient at her chosen art.

she graduated and started work at a spa.

I followed her there.

we got to know each other even better.

several years later,she became pregnant with her second child and left the profession to concentrate on her family.

we remained in contact,as I continued therapy with other people at the spa.

one day she asked if I wanted to come to her home as a client,as her daughter was getting to need less constant care and her husband was available to watch the kids while I received my massage.

that was one of the happiest messages I ever got!

I continued my therapy with her.

i got to know her family and our friendship blossomed until one day she stated that she considered me to be her best friend.

incredible!

so,that day that my daughters bought me a gift certificate for a free therapeutic massage,they got me much more.

they gave me a friend.  

7/24/2015

I try so hard to, not be a part of, that it hurts

8/21/16-thoughts after a tourista wknd…sometimes, I suppose, one needs to get out amongst the masses in order to remember why we retreat from them.

10/15/16-the Ides of October

fellow employee:“why don’t you work overtime?”

me:”why should I?”

fellow employee:”to make more money”…

and there-in lies the problem with Society as a whole.The making of money.The desire for more, more, more.

I was born into and manage to exist in a capitalist World,that sees the acquirement of money as the end goal.

The acquisition of money leads to crime,imprisonment,poverty,war and all the plagues of man.

I need to make money to supply myself with basic needs and I keep my wants to a minimum.

Why would anyone need to float on the oceans with access to a ferris wheel and a waterslide!

why would anyone need a home that has gold walls!

why do towers need to reach to the sky!

a roof, food and modest entertainment and I am satisfied.

OH! and trees.

Dec 10th,2016

Several friends have been posting pix of their younger years and that has tended to make me feel nostalgic.

I have few regrets in my Life,so far, and I come here to mention only one of those.

I do have many ‘what ifs’…. What if I had opted for college rather than the Work Force?

What if I never tried drugs? What if I had spent that summer in the Village instead of West Lake ? What if my hands had slipped under those railroad bridges or on that hair trigger?…

But,I digress.

The regret that I have of my wild, irresponsible, late teen-early twenties is that there was no Chronicler.

No one carried cameras!

I would love to see pictures of Jeff and Dan of my first work crew. Are there pix of the rock band,Columbus and when we jammed at Joe’s garage? Hell,I don’t even have any of my Ludwigs :(

What about congregations on the square,Mandy, the inside of the house I shared with Denny and Gilbert and the freaky flock of friends who frequented same?

The apartment I moved into with my first serious girlfriend,Andy & Bev,Bear,the ‘great whiskey and mescaline party’.

Those two trailers, the keggers, the shooting galleries, hardwood floors,poopy sheepdogs,marijuana window boxes and gardens.

Lep’s hearse,Tim’s John Deere Harley,the VW station wagon, my ’64 Valiant.

Terry Lee,Betty pregnant…

But,nobody carried cameras, so I must hope that the images in brain suffice.

8/27/17

I have been retired since Nov.18th of last year and I am diggin’ it!

More on this later☺

12/9/2017

Definition of isolate: to set apart from others;

Definition of solitude: the quality or state of being alone or remote from society

A difference in terms.

I do not live my Life set apart from others as I am more-so in seclusion.

I am and Live alone.

I enjoy my Solitude. In fact revel in it.

I do not feel set apart from others, merely living apart from them.

I reach out to and interact with others and am happy in doing so, yet do not need them to make me feel complete.

I function quite well on my own.

Alone

Not lonely.

I cannot say that I do not need human contact.

I just am not consumed by that need.

Perhaps, I come across as elitist or misanthropic.However,

My Life is not better than any other’s and I do not hate them for how they live.

I can just find contentment on my own.

This past year I have had moments which can only be described as pure Bliss caused only by my contact with Nature around me.

2/24/18

Thoughts on a dreary day.

I have noticed a movement amongst Boomers to not be called Senior citizens.

They see the word senior as denoting age and deprecation.

Fact: with age comes a certain amount of deprecation. We can’t escape that.

We can ,however embrace the dictionary definition of the word senior that says “1 of or for older or more experienced people;2 holding a high and authoritative position”

The important word here is experience.

We have been around longer and seen the consequences of actions.

We have seen friends die from making poor decisions.

We have come to realize that recklessness  can lead to ruin.

We also must remember what it was like to be young and reckless and feeling like we were superhuman and nothing could hurt us and there was no consequence to our actions and give the younger generations a break.

I remember when bomb scares were common in schools in the past.

I didn’t see the despair that could come from that action carried out as we have witnessed over and over today.

I saw it as funny and a reason to get out of school and a revolutionary action.

I venerated the SDS and the Weathermen and often think had I gone to college I probably would have blown myself up in one of those dorm-room bomb factories.

But,I digress.

Back then I hadn’t raised children and sent them off to public school and witnessed their angst and worried about their safety and loved them unconditionally.

I’ve had that Life experience and it has made me wiser.

Societies have used the term Elder to denote those who are wiser. Those who have had Life experience.Those who are sought out for their ideas and input.

I embrace the term .

I also realize that not all my peers can claim the same. There are ones who are still reckless and careless and uncaring for the human condition, but on the other hand there are members of the younger generations who are wise beyond their years ,not like their peers,and perhaps(let’s Hope) they will take the reins that someday we will be dropping.

Wednesday July 11th 2018

Summer twilite

crosslegged wigwam

cedar and sage

silent meditation

wind rustles leaves

fireflies flight faerie's lite

a hawk soars by

2020 Wondering

65 (very) odd years I’ve spent on this speck in Time.

All as an American citizen.

All as a resident of Pennsylvania.

In that time I have seen many changes.

I have seen laws enacted.

I have heard (and have made) grumblings about them.

“No shoes, No shirts, No service”-no enraged citizenry storming retail establishments in their boot-less feet!

“Click it or Ticket” It was a long time before I started obeying this one but still, no open defiance, no demanding our right to decide if we want to or not on the steps of the capital buildings after the fact.

In complete reversal of that idea we voted to allow motorcyclists the right to decide if they wished to risk head injury or not (Hurray for individual freedom! It got my backing)

We used to be able to drive a vehicle un-insured. Where are the patriots in riot gear goaded on by militant religious-fanatical congresspeople forcing the Governor to mandate that insurance providers stop charging us because there may be lawbreakers?

Where were these same militia when the Feds started limiting airplane freedoms? (“Hell no I won’t take off my shoes!!!”)

I think they may have been cheering on the Patriot Act because, well, they are Patriots( and it wasn’t revoked just recently so those freedoms being taken don’t count)

Copyright laws come to mind. Designed to protect intellectual property unless the care-less want to use them for their own agenda.(I’ve taken my share of “free” music.never used it to get you to like me)

How many more?

A lot,I’m sure.

Now, however, when we are asked (or forced) to be thoughtful as to the well being of our fellow beings a vast multitude feel it’s okay to be rude?

I mean, okay,  a great amount of people  are rude and they have the right to be but a great many laws are enacted not only to protect their right to be but also as a response to the fact that people just won’t be caring and thoughtful on their own.

In conclusion. I don’t get out much on purpose.

Corona didn’t change that.

But when I do, please don’t cough on me, wipe your nose on stuff I may touch or otherwise act like a jerk.

Remember also, jobs have been affected by the government mandates.Don’t be the one who makes it Hell for those who are complying with their employers’ wishes.( we still have to address just how some employers treat their employees. That’s on-going and a slightly different topic [cough…Union} )

[readbookywooks]

The Robin Who Showed The Way

She looked at the key quite a long time. She turned it over and over, and thought about it. As I have said before, she was not a child who had been trained to ask permission or consult her elders about things. All she thought about the key was that if it was the key to the closed garden, and she could find out where the door was, she could perhaps open it and see what was inside the walls, and what had happened to the old rose-trees. It was because it had been shut up so long that she wanted to see it. It seemed as if it must be different from other places and that something strange must have happened to it during ten years. Besides that, if she liked it she could go into it every day and shut the door behind her, and she could make up some play of her own and play it quite alone, because nobody would ever know where she was, but would think the door was still locked and the key buried in the earth. The thought of that pleased her very much.

Living as it were, all by herself in a house with a hundred mysteriously closed rooms and having nothing whatever to do to amuse herself, had set her inactive brain to working and was actually awakening her imagination. There is no doubt that the fresh, strong, pure air from the moor had a great deal to do with it. Just as it had given her an appetite, and fighting with the wind had stirred her blood, so the same things had stirred her mind. In India she had always been too hot and languid and weak to care much about anything, but in this place she was beginning to care and to want to do new things. Already she felt less "contrary," though she did not know why.

She put the key in her pocket and walked up and down her walk. No one but herself ever seemed to come there, so she could walk slowly and look at the wall, or, rather, at the ivy growing on it. The ivy was the baffling thing. Howsoever carefully she looked she could see nothing but thickly growing, glossy, dark green leaves. She was very much disappointed. Something of her contrariness came back to her as she paced the walk and looked over it at the tree-tops inside. It seemed so silly, she said to herself, to be near it and not be able to get in. She took the key in her pocket when she went back to the house, and she made up her mind that she would always carry it with her when she went out, so that if she ever should find the hidden door she would be ready.

Mrs. Medlock had allowed Martha to sleep all night at the cottage, but she was back at her work in the morning with cheeks redder than ever and in the best of spirits.

"I got up at four o'clock," she said. "Eh! it was pretty on th' moor with th' birds gettin' up an' th' rabbits scamperin' about an' th' sun risin'. I didn't walk all th' way. A man gave me a ride in his cart an' I did enjoy myself."

She was full of stories of the delights of her day out. Her mother had been glad to see her and they had got the baking and washing all out of the way. She had even made each of the children a doughcake with a bit of brown sugar in it.

"I had 'em all pipin' hot when they came in from playin' on th' moor. An' th' cottage all smelt o' nice, clean hot bakin' an' there was a good fire, an' they just shouted for joy. Our Dickon he said our cottage was good enough for a king."

In the evening they had all sat round the fire, and Martha and her mother had sewed patches on torn clothes and mended stockings and Martha had told them about the little girl who had come from India and who had been waited on all her life by what Martha called "blacks" until she didn't know how to put on her own stockings.

"Eh! they did like to hear about you," said Martha. "They wanted to know all about th' blacks an' about th' ship you came in. I couldn't tell 'em enough."

Mary reflected a little.

"I'll tell you a great deal more before your next day out," she said, "so that you will have more to talk about. I dare say they would like to hear about riding on elephants and camels, and about the officers going to hunt tigers."

"My word!" cried delighted Martha. "It would set 'em clean off their heads. Would tha' really do that, Miss? It would be same as a wild beast show like we heard they had in York once."

"India is quite different from Yorkshire," Mary said slowly, as she thought the matter over. "I never thought of that. Did Dickon and your mother like to hear you talk about me?"

"Why, our Dickon's eyes nearly started out o' his head, they got that round," answered Martha. "But mother, she was put out about your seemin' to be all by yourself like. She said, 'Hasn't Mr. Craven got no governess for her, nor no nurse?' and I said, 'No, he hasn't, though Mrs. Medlock says he will when he thinks of it, but she says he mayn't think of it for two or three years.'"

"I don't want a governess," said Mary sharply.

"But mother says you ought to be learnin' your book by this time an' you ought to have a woman to look after you, an' she says: `Now, Martha, you just think how you'd feel yourself, in a big place like that, wanderin' about all alone, an' no mother. You do your best to cheer her up,' she says, an' I said I would."

Mary gave her a long, steady look.

"You do cheer me up," she said. "I like to hear you talk."

Presently Martha went out of the room and came back with something held in her hands under her apron.

"What does tha' think," she said, with a cheerful grin. "I've brought thee a present."

"A present!" exclaimed Mistress Mary. How could a cottage full of fourteen hungry people give any one a present!

"A man was drivin' across the moor peddlin'," Martha explained. "An' he stopped his cart at our door. He had pots an' pans an' odds an' ends, but mother had no money to buy anythin'. Just as he was goin' away our 'Lizabeth Ellen called out, `Mother, he's got skippin'-ropes with red an' blue handles.' An' mother she calls out quite sudden, `Here, stop, mister! How much are they?' An' he says `Tuppence', an' mother she began fumblin' in her pocket an' she says to me, `Martha, tha's brought me thy wages like a good lass, an' I've got four places to put every penny, but I'm just goin' to take tuppence out of it to buy that child a skippin'-rope,' an' she bought one an' here it is."

She brought it out from under her apron and exhibited it quite proudly. It was a strong, slender rope with a striped red and blue handle at each end, but Mary Lennox had never seen a skipping-rope before. She gazed at it with a mystified expression.

"What is it for?" she asked curiously.

"For!" cried out Martha. "Does tha' mean that they've not got skippin'-ropes in India, for all they've got elephants and tigers and camels! No wonder most of 'em's black. This is what it's for; just watch me."

And she ran into the middle of the room and, taking a handle in each hand, began to skip, and skip, and skip, while Mary turned in her chair to stare at her, and the queer faces in the old portraits seemed to stare at her, too, and wonder what on earth this common little cottager had the impudence to be doing under their very noses. But Martha did not even see them. The interest and curiosity in Mistress Mary's face delighted her, and she went on skipping and counted as she skipped until she had reached a hundred.

"I could skip longer than that," she said when she stopped. "I've skipped as much as five hundred when I was twelve, but I wasn't as fat then as I am now, an' I was in practice."

Mary got up from her chair beginning to feel excited herself.

"It looks nice," she said. "Your mother is a kind woman. Do you think I could ever skip like that?"

"You just try it," urged Martha, handing her the skipping- rope. "You can't skip a hundred at first, but if you practice you'll mount up. That's what mother said. She says, `Nothin' will do her more good than skippin' rope. It's th' sensiblest toy a child can have. Let her play out in th' fresh air skippin' an' it'll stretch her legs an' arms an' give her some strength in 'em.'"

It was plain that there was not a great deal of strength in Mistress Mary's arms and legs when she first began to skip. She was not very clever at it, but she liked it so much that she did not want to stop.

"Put on tha' things and run an' skip out o' doors," said Martha. "Mother said I must tell you to keep out o' doors as much as you could, even when it rains a bit, so as tha' wrap up warm."

Mary put on her coat and hat and took her skipping-rope over her arm. She opened the door to go out, and then suddenly thought of something and turned back rather slowly.

"Martha," she said, "they were your wages. It was your two-pence really. Thank you." She said it stiffly because she was not used to thanking people or noticing that they did things for her. "Thank you," she said, and held out her hand because she did not know what else to do.

Martha gave her hand a clumsy little shake, as if she was not accustomed to this sort of thing either. Then she laughed.

"Eh! th' art a queer, old-womanish thing," she said. "If tha'd been our 'Lizabeth Ellen tha'd have given me a kiss."

Mary looked stiffer than ever.

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

Martha laughed again.

"Nay, not me," she answered. "If tha' was different, p'raps tha'd want to thysel'. But tha' isn't. Run off outside an' play with thy rope."

Mistress Mary felt a little awkward as she went out of the room. Yorkshire people seemed strange, and Martha was always rather a puzzle to her. At first she had disliked her very much, but now she did not. The skipping-rope was a wonderful thing. She counted and skipped, and skipped and counted, until her cheeks were quite red, and she was more interested than she had ever been since she was born. The sun was shining and a little wind was blowing--not a rough wind, but one which came in delightful little gusts and brought a fresh scent of newly turned earth with it. She skipped round the fountain garden, and up one walk and down another. She skipped at last into the kitchen-garden and saw Ben Weatherstaff digging and talking to his robin, which was hopping about him. She skipped down the walk toward him and he lifted his head and looked at her with a curious expression. She had wondered if he would notice her. She wanted him to see her skip.

"Well!" he exclaimed. "Upon my word. P'raps tha' art a young 'un, after all, an' p'raps tha's got child's blood in thy veins instead of sour buttermilk. Tha's skipped red into thy cheeks as sure as my name's Ben Weatherstaff. I wouldn't have believed tha' could do it."

"I never skipped before," Mary said. "I'm just beginning. I can only go up to twenty."

"Tha' keep on," said Ben. "Tha' shapes well enough at it for a young 'un that's lived with heathen. Just see how he's watchin' thee," jerking his head toward the robin. "He followed after thee yesterday. He'll be at it again today. He'll be bound to find out what th' skippin'-rope is. He's never seen one. Eh!" shaking his head at the bird, "tha' curiosity will be th' death of thee sometime if tha' doesn't look sharp."

Mary skipped round all the gardens and round the orchard, resting every few minutes. At length she went to her own special walk and made up her mind to try if she could skip the whole length of it. It was a good long skip and she began slowly, but before she had gone half-way down the path she was so hot and breathless that she was obliged to stop. She did not mind much, because she had already counted up to thirty. She stopped with a little laugh of pleasure, and there, lo and behold, was the robin swaying on a long branch of ivy. He had followed her and he greeted her with a chirp. As Mary had skipped toward him she felt something heavy in her pocket strike against her at each jump, and when she saw the robin she laughed again.

"You showed me where the key was yesterday," she said. "You ought to show me the door today; but I don't believe you know!"

The robin flew from his swinging spray of ivy on to the top of the wall and he opened his beak and sang a loud, lovely trill, merely to show off. Nothing in the world is quite as adorably lovely as a robin when he shows off--and they are nearly always doing it.

Mary Lennox had heard a great deal about Magic in her Ayah's stories, and she always said that what happened almost at that moment was Magic.

One of the nice little gusts of wind rushed down the walk, and it was a stronger one than the rest. It was strong enough to wave the branches of the trees, and it was more than strong enough to sway the trailing sprays of untrimmed ivy hanging from the wall. Mary had stepped close to the robin, and suddenly the gust of wind swung aside some loose ivy trails, and more suddenly still she jumped toward it and caught it in her hand. This she did because she had seen something under it--a round knob which had been covered by the leaves hanging over it. It was the knob of a door.

She put her hands under the leaves and began to pull and push them aside. Thick as the ivy hung, it nearly all was a loose and swinging curtain, though some had crept over wood and iron. Mary's heart began to thump and her hands to shake a little in her delight and excitement. The robin kept singing and twittering away and tilting his head on one side, as if he were as excited as she was. What was this under her hands which was square and made of iron and which her fingers found a hole in?

It was the lock of the door which had been closed ten years and she put her hand in her pocket, drew out the key and found it fitted the keyhole. She put the key in and turned it. It took two hands to do it, but it did turn.

And then she took a long breath and looked behind her up the long walk to see if any one was coming. No one was coming. No one ever did come, it seemed, and she took another long breath, because she could not help it, and she held back the swinging curtain of ivy and pushed back the door which opened slowly--slowly.

Then she slipped through it, and shut it behind her, and stood with her back against it, looking about her and breathing quite fast with excitement, and wonder, and delight.

She was standing inside the secret garden.