Ceramic DM - Spring 2005 (Late Bloomer) - We have a winner.
Rodrigo Istalindir
Explorer
Macbeth said:
So, ah, whose story were you reading when you started feeling nauseated?
Hope you feel better (your Aunt, too). Sucks to be sick on a weekend.
MarauderX
Explorer
Round 1, Match 4
MarauderX vs. reveal vs. Arwink
Insight
Abe didn’t like his internship. It was his first and he still had another year of computer science study to go before he would graduate. He tapped away at his keyboard, lazily cutting and pasting information from the internet into a spreadsheet. He sneered as a fellow over-anxious intern, Kim, volunteered to stuff envelopes. There would be no menial tasks that were appropriate for him, and he despised the mundane that he had to do for himself. He hated having to make his own coffee and his demeanor let him keep a wide berth from his supervisors, leaving him bored in his cubicle. No, he’d wait for a project a little more suited to his abilities to fall into his lap. Then he would more than prove his worth to the company, should they ever listen to him.
Abe dressed in conservative yet stylish clothing that made him fit in with his peers. All of the interns lunched together in a big pack, just like frightened freshmen back at college. The others dressed the same, some a little more edgy than others, but none of them flashy enough to be memorable to other diners out for a cheap lunch. They talked idly about music, movies and the latest news. Once they discussed politics and international policy, but that ended with Abe bickering with Kim about the rising price of German steel caused by U.S. import taxes. Others may have seen it as a lover’s spat, but both of their hushed voices held tones of frustration and bitter anger. Abe’s fury turned to indifference as he thought she was immature and not nearly as worldly as he.
He ate with them for the last time at a Thai restaurant. Having never eaten Thai, it was a stretch by the others to get him beyond burgers and fries. After a lengthy diatribe on why he had so little to do at work Abe gobbled up his meal. His throat swelled to match the size of his head and a few of the others snickered. He had found out too late that he was allergic to something in his meal and was rushed to the hospital.
* * * * *
Liz skipped through the snow along the promenade between the columns as they marched along. She was happy, and those who knew her thought the condition was chronic. She had no reason to be sad, in her mind, as she could change was she saw around her to whatever she wished. It didn’t really change, but she believed it so adamantly some days that it would stick that way to her eyes.
What Liz couldn’t change was what she heard. Her mind, which was so good at choosing what she saw, could not let go of even the smallest of slights. The voices in her mind would sometimes ring for hours, dulling her thoughts. She disliked lengthy conversations and, after her last boyfriend, she didn’t like to delve any deeper into a subject than a casual mention or wispy opinion. After all, to Liz, if something was understood why did it need to be discussed?
She stopped, waiting to cross the street, when she saw the red lights of an ambulance glint off of the nearby buildings. She smiled and wondered who she’d get to meet today.
* * * * *
Abe shuddered. He had nearly lost consciousness for a third time as the paramedics unloaded him from the ambulance. He was rushed down several halls and the barrage of questions went unanswered as his throat had closed up completely. His perky cubical mate Kim had punctured his trachea to allow him to breath. She had used a batch of straws from their drinks to allow him to breathe through the opening and they protruded upward as he was guided around another turn. He had passed out the first time from the sight of his own blood, not the lack of oxygen, but Abe would never admit that to anyone. The hole in his throat had saved his life but he swore to himself the next time he would see Kim would be in court.
Abe was stopped long enough to receive a shot before he was placed in a curtained area to strip out of his tightening clothing. Abe pulled his shirt over his head and suddenly she was there. She curtseyed and told him her name, Liz, and asked if she could help him. Annoyed as he was, Abe could only grunt and remain motionless. She knew Abe’s condition and took any communication as a positive as she glided over to him.
She idly talked about how she was waiting for spring.
“As much as I like winter, I can’t wait for spring. That’s when my favorite flowers bloom. Do you know what my favorite flowers are? Daffodils. I like the way you can tell which way they are facing, and when they look directly at me I blush. I can’t help it, it just makes me squeal!” she said, hopping.
While she continued rambling on she removed Abe’s socks and showed him where he could find his things. She asked if he would like her to call family or friends, and slowly he shook his head with eyes lowered.
With his smock finally on, Abe felt around his throat with puffy fingers. Liz had seen this out of the corner of her eye and fetched a mirror for him.
“Wow, you are lucky you had someone nearby to save you. Often there isn’t anyone brave enough to even try something like that, and with all the lawsuits I know the restaurant employees wouldn’t have done it.” She said. “You must have an angel watching over you.”
He grunted.
Dr. Reed introduced himself as the practitioner who would operate on him as well as oversee his wellness. He said he appointed Liz to aid him, and she would be assigned to him as long as he was at the hospital. Dr. Reed removed the straws from his throat and placed a medical breathing apparatus in their place. Abe was given an intravenous drip to feed his body and for access to periodically deliver a mild antibiotic. He was moved to a room on the same floor to wait for the swelling to subside. Once it did Dr. Reed would repair his throat and he would be released.
Liz returned to visit Abe, humming and smiling. Abe’s lack of speech left her mind to wander and she imagined daffodils blooming around his bed. His eyes were beady gems surrounded by marshmallow eyebrows. A thought sprang into her mind and she returned from the pediatric wing with a chalkboard and a small nub of chalk. She weaved a piece of floss through two of the chalkboard’s eyes and tied the ends together. Humming, she presented the board to Abe and he looked at it then back to her as if he could care less. She hung it around his neck and told him to try to write something nice for her to read when she came back.
Abe was at a loss. In the hours he had been at the hospital he had felt imprisoned and vulnerable. He couldn’t talk, and without his voice or face he couldn’t convey sarcasm nearly as well. He liked to wield his wit as a weapon to force others to yield to him, and it had always worked to push people away so he couldn’t be hurt by them first. His thoughts churned up more anger. ‘I’m being cared for by a clueless nurse who probably finds this whole situation hilarious behind my back’ he thought. ‘Now she wants me to write something on this ridiculously small chalkboard. I couldn’t find enough space on a chalkboard a thousand times its size to tell her what I think!’
* * * * *
Liz returned again, her head cocked to the side and a grin spread across her face. Abe wondered what the hell she was thinking about him now when she asked if he had seen the view out his window yet. He looked and saw snowflakes falling like feathers to the ground. Liz focused on the outside, her mind depicting the commuters as snowmen bustling about the streets. She described what she saw to Abe and he simply stared and thought she might be an escapee from the mental wing. She said that Abe should try to imagine walking with her among all those snow-people, and holding her hand to keep her warm. She slid her hand into his and the pressure of her grasp sent Abe’s pulse racing. His eyes glazed over, and for a moment that could have lasted forever he actually saw himself walking between the snow-people during rush hour. Liz’s hand retreated from his, and Abe blinked. The snow-people were gone, replaced by their human counterparts. He examined them again, blinking several times while staring at the greek restaurant on the corner. When he couldn’t make the snow-people reappear on his own he turned to Liz, but she had slipped out of the room.
* * * * *
Abe stared at the TV across the room as the news cycle on CNN repeated itself yet again. In the corner it read six o’clock. The workday was over and he knew his roommate Marty wouldn’t miss him if he didn’t show up that night, or even for a week. They had separate rooms, Abe had insisted after all, so they could come and go as they pleased. The real reason was Abe didn’t trust him and wanted to make sure he could keep his things protected. He wondered if his laptop would be safe, and whether Marty would try to get into his locked room. Abe thought about his new guitar and figured it would be the first thing his goon-like roommate would play with, probably scratching the finish or dropping it before pawing through the rest of his things. His chin was set in anger when Kim walked in.
She took off her stylish pink winter hat and matching black and pink scarf.
“I hope you are doing okay,” she said, “I guess you’ll be sticking to burgers and fries from now on.”
She paused as if waiting for him to answer. He did is best to scowl as he tried to convey his displeasure at anyone witnessing his condition, but it was lost in his swollen face.
“I know you’ll be missed at work, and already people are asking where you’re at.”
‘And you probably told them, you knife-wielding lunatic, and now you’re here to take pictures’ he thought.
“Your computer was on, so I saved the two spreadsheets you had open and shut it down.” ‘Yeah, and you probably scanned over my C:\ drive too, maybe sent a mass email calling the CEO is a lesbian tramp.’
Another uncomfortable pause followed before Kim sat down in the room’s only chair.
“Did the doctor say when you might be released? Well, I can find out from your nurse. You really lucked out with her, she’s very sweet.” Kim said.
He stretched his hand toward the chalkboard around his neck.
“Hey, that’s cool. I guess they have a good amount of patients that can’t talk. Maybe they all ate the same meal at Thai Tanic.” she said smiling.
Then her face dropped a little.
“I… also came to say I’m sorry. Your face went purple then blue, and your eyes were bulging… no one knew what to do…” she stammered, “the hostess just watched… I’m sorry, I’m so sorr—“
“These are lovely, don’t you think?” Liz said as she burst into the room with a big bouquet of flowers. “I’ll just put them over here. If you look at them just right you can picture them as daffodils, yes? I can already. They’re lovely. Have you been writing to your friend? She’s very pretty. Oh, you still haven’t written anything yet. Your fingers probably still sting, right?” she asked without looking at him or waiting for a response.
Kim dabbed at tears that had welled up in her eyes as she looked away from them both. Liz said, “Well, don’t give up, and be sure to thank her.”
Looking at Kim, Liz said, “He’s grateful, really, and please stop by again tomorrow for lunch. Maybe you can take him back to work with you by then.”
Liz and Kim smiled politely at one another.
“I should let him rest.” Kim said.
Liz nodded in agreement then both stopped as they heard the click of chalk as Abe scribed a message.
Abe flipped the chalkboard to show the word “THANKs” scrawled across it with the letter ‘s’ crookedly squeezed on the side. Both women smiled and nodded in appreciation. Each thought assuredly that he had written the message for the other and that made both of them glow inwardly.
* * * * *
Abe woke the next morning feeling much better. He checked the mirror and saw that the swelling had subsided. On his bedside table was an invite to breakfast at the Sky Lounge on the roof of the building, and he accepted. He felt refreshed and glad to be able to have something to do. Abe was guided to the elevator by a nurse and at the top floor the doors opened up to reveal a large domed roof and a clear blue sky above. In front of him an exercise class performed a routine of moves and behind them tables and chairs were set up in front of an a la carte kitchen. His throat was still very sore and he had trouble swallowing, but Abe thought he would start with a little orange juice.
When he made his way toward the kitchen, Abe noticed Dr. Reed jumping into the air and throwing a kick over Liz. Abe didn’t realize it, but he had stopped and was staring at them. Dr. Reed paused and waved and Liz turned to see him. She smiled and trotted over to fetch Abe, and then Dr. Reed wiped the sweat from his brow and looked at Abe’s neck. The doctor said that the swelling had gone down enough for him to close the wound. Dr. Reed patted him on the shoulder and told Abe that he’d be able to go snorkeling again very soon.
Liz and Abe had breakfast together, and she guided him to drink the less acidic orange juice. She asked him if he could speak yet, and Abe flipped around the chalkboard. On it the phrase “Just because I can’t talk doesn’t mean I’m deaf” was neatly written from the night before. Liz snickered, as she knew the night nurses were notorious for being loud when patients were trying to sleep, which had nothing to do with Abe’s hearing. Abe was glad that what he had written made her smile. He marveled at the view from the top of the twelfth floor, and for the first time in years he was appreciative.
Liz took Abe back to his bed and at the end of it was a lab report on his blood. Abe pulled it out and Liz began to leaf through it, explaining the numbers and charts to him. His cholesterol was a little high but the test showed he was typical for the most part. The report stated that he was not to eat any more peanuts or peanut byproducts as it would likely lead to a recurring reaction.
Lastly Liz pulled out a small handbook on allergies. Her hand touched his again, and suddenly he saw the bouquet of flowers on his nightstand transform into daffodils. Abe thought he should recoil from her but he liked her touch. He thought that he should stop thinking that she cared more for him than anyone else, but the way she touched him jumpstarted his heart every time. Liz held up a page between them that showed a normal blood cell in green in the upper left and a mass of bloated cells that were the result of an allergic reaction. Abe gripped the pamphlet in his hands, and when he lowered it they were face to face. Her deep brown eyes were only inches away and he felt like he was swimming in them. He reached his hand around her waste and leaned his lips closer to hers when she bowed her head. They turned to see that all of the daffodils were facing them, and Abe felt Liz roll out of his arms. The daffodils disappeared from sight and he slumped onto the bed alone.
* * * * *
Dr. Reed was fast and accurate with the surgery. He inspected the opening in Abe’s neck with care and used a laser to patch the trachea closed. Dr. Reed finished by sewing the skin together so that it would only have a hairline scar. Abe was carted back to his room to wait to see if any complications would occur. His IV was removed and he couldn’t stop swallowing as the surgery left him with the feeling of something caught in his throat.
Abe tested his voice and found that he could whisper, but Dr. Reed warned him not to strain himself by talking too much. Alone, Abe asked himself what he did wrong with Liz. He whispered curses to himself for behaving like an idiot and looking like desperate moron. He looked out the window just then to see Kim’s pink hat walk beneath his window and turn into the hospital. Abe grabbed the mirror and inspected himself, making a frantic attempt to flatten his skewed hair. He licked his chapped lips when Kim knocked on the door.
Abe waved her in and motioned to the chair. He flipped his chalkboard sign and she read the words “Hello! How are you today?” written in a fluid cursive. She sat at the chair’s edge and held out a large fast-food cup.
“I’m fine, thanks. It’s a milkshake. I’d hoped you could drink it by now. It’s chocolate. I know you can eat chocolate since I see you at Lindsey’s desk with peppermint patties once in a while.”
Abe took the cup and for the first time since high school his brain didn’t stir up paranoid thoughts. The thick, cold milkshake soothed his inflamed throat and he relaxed. He erased his greeting and broke the silence with a playful game of tic-tac-toe.
A conversation grew with Abe asking questions about Kim and her family, her upbringing and she came to be an intern with him. Abe didn’t speak and he let Kim go on as he listened intently. Little by little he was realizing there was much more to her than the perky go-getting attitude she often conveyed.
Kim had been adopted ten years ago by parents that had had one child of their own. She was loved as much by them as her older brother, but it was clear that she was not their natural child. She grew up trying to fit in and please others and tended to be impatient with people who lacked a similar work ethic. Kim had strived for approval ever since she was a child. She had fought off feeling sorry for herself so many times she had locked away those emotions forever. Kim’s acute awareness of herself and status led her to dress conservatively compared to her peers. She kept abreast of current affairs, not that she enjoyed it, but so that she would have something to say if asked how she was doing.
Abe reflected on his own adult life as she talked, feeling regret for squandered opportunities. He had been living a golden life by comparison to hers, and he felt wrong for judging her every day of their internship. He felt he had been making excuses why things had not gone his way all the time and realized how spoiled he was to have come this far in his life and not be thankful. Abe again compared himself to Kim’s strength and determination and found himself wonting. Normally this would have made him jealous and angry, and he might have blamed someone or something for holding him back. But now he felt like he had found a fountain of strength in her, that now he was seeing her in a new way.
Abe got through this outer shell of Kim’s by scratching out a few words in chalk and listening. The lunch hour was over quickly, but Kim didn’t mind staying with Abe a little longer. She felt as though she owed him for stabbing a hole through his throat, and she apologized again before turning to go. Now that he understood her, Abe felt a flood of emotion begin to grow. It erupted through his eyes, and tears streamed down his cheeks. He didn’t know what was wrong with him or why he couldn’t maintain his normally stoic face until she had gone. Kim was suddenly in tears as well, and before either of them knew it she was sitting on his bed and holding his face in her hands. Abe reached his hands up to her shoulders and gently pulled her to him. They kissed with a passion of longing, of need, and of understanding. When their lips parted Abe could see daffodils staring at them.
* * * * *
Marty had put on Kim’s hat and scarf. The hat was crooked to one side and the scarf was lazily slung around his neck as he watched his roommate Abe saunter down the hall.
“You okay man?” Marty asked.
Abe felt his throat, thought better of speaking and simply nodded.
“Whoa, are those stitches? What happened?” Marty asked.
Abe was forced to croak out an answer. “Allergies” he said.
“Dude, that is some nasty allergy to rip open your throat like that. Looks like you mighta spawned a baby alien outta there.” Marty said.
Abe started coffee and motioned to his head and neck, indicating the scarf and hat Marty was wearing.
“Oh, right. Whose are these? I was worried that you might’ve been out cross-dressing… y’know, starting a new career since you hate your internship and the people there.”
Abe shook his head and gazed down into his empty coffee cup and tried to think of a response using as few words as he could. He pointed toward his room.
“Hope,” his scratchy voice eked out, “understanding… trust…” But he knew those words weren’t working as Marty stared at him blankly. “True love” Abe said and nodded, satisfied with the expression of surprise from Marty.
Kim had padded softly down the hall to hear them talk. When she saw Marty with her hat she couldn’t help but giggle and they both turned to see her. Shocked, Marty rose from the chair and the hat fell to the floor. Marty gave the hat and scarf back to Kim and she told him all he had to do was ask next time and she would be glad to loan him something to wear. Kim called work and told them both she and Abe would be very late in coming in due to recovery complications.
* * * * *
Liz skipped through the snow, again letting her imagination brew up a new concoction of visions along the way. When she arrived at the hospital to check in she saw that Abe had been checked out. ‘Whew,’ she thought, ‘that couldn’t have been more awkward, and it’s a good thing he never managed to say anything.’ A few hours later a bouquet of mixed flowers arrived addressed to her. She smelled the daisies, lavender and snapdragons as she pulled out an envelope addressed to her and Dr. Reed. Inside was a small piece of green slate with a message on it written in chalk. It read “Kim and I both thank you. I hope you enjoy the daffodils! – Abe” Kim gleefully giggled and looked at the flowers before her, now daffodils, and they looked back. She loved her job and strode off to show her daffodils to someone new.
MarauderX vs. reveal vs. Arwink
Insight
Abe didn’t like his internship. It was his first and he still had another year of computer science study to go before he would graduate. He tapped away at his keyboard, lazily cutting and pasting information from the internet into a spreadsheet. He sneered as a fellow over-anxious intern, Kim, volunteered to stuff envelopes. There would be no menial tasks that were appropriate for him, and he despised the mundane that he had to do for himself. He hated having to make his own coffee and his demeanor let him keep a wide berth from his supervisors, leaving him bored in his cubicle. No, he’d wait for a project a little more suited to his abilities to fall into his lap. Then he would more than prove his worth to the company, should they ever listen to him.
Abe dressed in conservative yet stylish clothing that made him fit in with his peers. All of the interns lunched together in a big pack, just like frightened freshmen back at college. The others dressed the same, some a little more edgy than others, but none of them flashy enough to be memorable to other diners out for a cheap lunch. They talked idly about music, movies and the latest news. Once they discussed politics and international policy, but that ended with Abe bickering with Kim about the rising price of German steel caused by U.S. import taxes. Others may have seen it as a lover’s spat, but both of their hushed voices held tones of frustration and bitter anger. Abe’s fury turned to indifference as he thought she was immature and not nearly as worldly as he.
He ate with them for the last time at a Thai restaurant. Having never eaten Thai, it was a stretch by the others to get him beyond burgers and fries. After a lengthy diatribe on why he had so little to do at work Abe gobbled up his meal. His throat swelled to match the size of his head and a few of the others snickered. He had found out too late that he was allergic to something in his meal and was rushed to the hospital.
* * * * *
Liz skipped through the snow along the promenade between the columns as they marched along. She was happy, and those who knew her thought the condition was chronic. She had no reason to be sad, in her mind, as she could change was she saw around her to whatever she wished. It didn’t really change, but she believed it so adamantly some days that it would stick that way to her eyes.
What Liz couldn’t change was what she heard. Her mind, which was so good at choosing what she saw, could not let go of even the smallest of slights. The voices in her mind would sometimes ring for hours, dulling her thoughts. She disliked lengthy conversations and, after her last boyfriend, she didn’t like to delve any deeper into a subject than a casual mention or wispy opinion. After all, to Liz, if something was understood why did it need to be discussed?
She stopped, waiting to cross the street, when she saw the red lights of an ambulance glint off of the nearby buildings. She smiled and wondered who she’d get to meet today.
* * * * *
Abe shuddered. He had nearly lost consciousness for a third time as the paramedics unloaded him from the ambulance. He was rushed down several halls and the barrage of questions went unanswered as his throat had closed up completely. His perky cubical mate Kim had punctured his trachea to allow him to breath. She had used a batch of straws from their drinks to allow him to breathe through the opening and they protruded upward as he was guided around another turn. He had passed out the first time from the sight of his own blood, not the lack of oxygen, but Abe would never admit that to anyone. The hole in his throat had saved his life but he swore to himself the next time he would see Kim would be in court.
Abe was stopped long enough to receive a shot before he was placed in a curtained area to strip out of his tightening clothing. Abe pulled his shirt over his head and suddenly she was there. She curtseyed and told him her name, Liz, and asked if she could help him. Annoyed as he was, Abe could only grunt and remain motionless. She knew Abe’s condition and took any communication as a positive as she glided over to him.
She idly talked about how she was waiting for spring.
“As much as I like winter, I can’t wait for spring. That’s when my favorite flowers bloom. Do you know what my favorite flowers are? Daffodils. I like the way you can tell which way they are facing, and when they look directly at me I blush. I can’t help it, it just makes me squeal!” she said, hopping.
While she continued rambling on she removed Abe’s socks and showed him where he could find his things. She asked if he would like her to call family or friends, and slowly he shook his head with eyes lowered.
With his smock finally on, Abe felt around his throat with puffy fingers. Liz had seen this out of the corner of her eye and fetched a mirror for him.
“Wow, you are lucky you had someone nearby to save you. Often there isn’t anyone brave enough to even try something like that, and with all the lawsuits I know the restaurant employees wouldn’t have done it.” She said. “You must have an angel watching over you.”
He grunted.
Dr. Reed introduced himself as the practitioner who would operate on him as well as oversee his wellness. He said he appointed Liz to aid him, and she would be assigned to him as long as he was at the hospital. Dr. Reed removed the straws from his throat and placed a medical breathing apparatus in their place. Abe was given an intravenous drip to feed his body and for access to periodically deliver a mild antibiotic. He was moved to a room on the same floor to wait for the swelling to subside. Once it did Dr. Reed would repair his throat and he would be released.
Liz returned to visit Abe, humming and smiling. Abe’s lack of speech left her mind to wander and she imagined daffodils blooming around his bed. His eyes were beady gems surrounded by marshmallow eyebrows. A thought sprang into her mind and she returned from the pediatric wing with a chalkboard and a small nub of chalk. She weaved a piece of floss through two of the chalkboard’s eyes and tied the ends together. Humming, she presented the board to Abe and he looked at it then back to her as if he could care less. She hung it around his neck and told him to try to write something nice for her to read when she came back.
Abe was at a loss. In the hours he had been at the hospital he had felt imprisoned and vulnerable. He couldn’t talk, and without his voice or face he couldn’t convey sarcasm nearly as well. He liked to wield his wit as a weapon to force others to yield to him, and it had always worked to push people away so he couldn’t be hurt by them first. His thoughts churned up more anger. ‘I’m being cared for by a clueless nurse who probably finds this whole situation hilarious behind my back’ he thought. ‘Now she wants me to write something on this ridiculously small chalkboard. I couldn’t find enough space on a chalkboard a thousand times its size to tell her what I think!’
* * * * *
Liz returned again, her head cocked to the side and a grin spread across her face. Abe wondered what the hell she was thinking about him now when she asked if he had seen the view out his window yet. He looked and saw snowflakes falling like feathers to the ground. Liz focused on the outside, her mind depicting the commuters as snowmen bustling about the streets. She described what she saw to Abe and he simply stared and thought she might be an escapee from the mental wing. She said that Abe should try to imagine walking with her among all those snow-people, and holding her hand to keep her warm. She slid her hand into his and the pressure of her grasp sent Abe’s pulse racing. His eyes glazed over, and for a moment that could have lasted forever he actually saw himself walking between the snow-people during rush hour. Liz’s hand retreated from his, and Abe blinked. The snow-people were gone, replaced by their human counterparts. He examined them again, blinking several times while staring at the greek restaurant on the corner. When he couldn’t make the snow-people reappear on his own he turned to Liz, but she had slipped out of the room.
* * * * *
Abe stared at the TV across the room as the news cycle on CNN repeated itself yet again. In the corner it read six o’clock. The workday was over and he knew his roommate Marty wouldn’t miss him if he didn’t show up that night, or even for a week. They had separate rooms, Abe had insisted after all, so they could come and go as they pleased. The real reason was Abe didn’t trust him and wanted to make sure he could keep his things protected. He wondered if his laptop would be safe, and whether Marty would try to get into his locked room. Abe thought about his new guitar and figured it would be the first thing his goon-like roommate would play with, probably scratching the finish or dropping it before pawing through the rest of his things. His chin was set in anger when Kim walked in.
She took off her stylish pink winter hat and matching black and pink scarf.
“I hope you are doing okay,” she said, “I guess you’ll be sticking to burgers and fries from now on.”
She paused as if waiting for him to answer. He did is best to scowl as he tried to convey his displeasure at anyone witnessing his condition, but it was lost in his swollen face.
“I know you’ll be missed at work, and already people are asking where you’re at.”
‘And you probably told them, you knife-wielding lunatic, and now you’re here to take pictures’ he thought.
“Your computer was on, so I saved the two spreadsheets you had open and shut it down.” ‘Yeah, and you probably scanned over my C:\ drive too, maybe sent a mass email calling the CEO is a lesbian tramp.’
Another uncomfortable pause followed before Kim sat down in the room’s only chair.
“Did the doctor say when you might be released? Well, I can find out from your nurse. You really lucked out with her, she’s very sweet.” Kim said.
He stretched his hand toward the chalkboard around his neck.
“Hey, that’s cool. I guess they have a good amount of patients that can’t talk. Maybe they all ate the same meal at Thai Tanic.” she said smiling.
Then her face dropped a little.
“I… also came to say I’m sorry. Your face went purple then blue, and your eyes were bulging… no one knew what to do…” she stammered, “the hostess just watched… I’m sorry, I’m so sorr—“
“These are lovely, don’t you think?” Liz said as she burst into the room with a big bouquet of flowers. “I’ll just put them over here. If you look at them just right you can picture them as daffodils, yes? I can already. They’re lovely. Have you been writing to your friend? She’s very pretty. Oh, you still haven’t written anything yet. Your fingers probably still sting, right?” she asked without looking at him or waiting for a response.
Kim dabbed at tears that had welled up in her eyes as she looked away from them both. Liz said, “Well, don’t give up, and be sure to thank her.”
Looking at Kim, Liz said, “He’s grateful, really, and please stop by again tomorrow for lunch. Maybe you can take him back to work with you by then.”
Liz and Kim smiled politely at one another.
“I should let him rest.” Kim said.
Liz nodded in agreement then both stopped as they heard the click of chalk as Abe scribed a message.
Abe flipped the chalkboard to show the word “THANKs” scrawled across it with the letter ‘s’ crookedly squeezed on the side. Both women smiled and nodded in appreciation. Each thought assuredly that he had written the message for the other and that made both of them glow inwardly.
* * * * *
Abe woke the next morning feeling much better. He checked the mirror and saw that the swelling had subsided. On his bedside table was an invite to breakfast at the Sky Lounge on the roof of the building, and he accepted. He felt refreshed and glad to be able to have something to do. Abe was guided to the elevator by a nurse and at the top floor the doors opened up to reveal a large domed roof and a clear blue sky above. In front of him an exercise class performed a routine of moves and behind them tables and chairs were set up in front of an a la carte kitchen. His throat was still very sore and he had trouble swallowing, but Abe thought he would start with a little orange juice.
When he made his way toward the kitchen, Abe noticed Dr. Reed jumping into the air and throwing a kick over Liz. Abe didn’t realize it, but he had stopped and was staring at them. Dr. Reed paused and waved and Liz turned to see him. She smiled and trotted over to fetch Abe, and then Dr. Reed wiped the sweat from his brow and looked at Abe’s neck. The doctor said that the swelling had gone down enough for him to close the wound. Dr. Reed patted him on the shoulder and told Abe that he’d be able to go snorkeling again very soon.
Liz and Abe had breakfast together, and she guided him to drink the less acidic orange juice. She asked him if he could speak yet, and Abe flipped around the chalkboard. On it the phrase “Just because I can’t talk doesn’t mean I’m deaf” was neatly written from the night before. Liz snickered, as she knew the night nurses were notorious for being loud when patients were trying to sleep, which had nothing to do with Abe’s hearing. Abe was glad that what he had written made her smile. He marveled at the view from the top of the twelfth floor, and for the first time in years he was appreciative.
Liz took Abe back to his bed and at the end of it was a lab report on his blood. Abe pulled it out and Liz began to leaf through it, explaining the numbers and charts to him. His cholesterol was a little high but the test showed he was typical for the most part. The report stated that he was not to eat any more peanuts or peanut byproducts as it would likely lead to a recurring reaction.
Lastly Liz pulled out a small handbook on allergies. Her hand touched his again, and suddenly he saw the bouquet of flowers on his nightstand transform into daffodils. Abe thought he should recoil from her but he liked her touch. He thought that he should stop thinking that she cared more for him than anyone else, but the way she touched him jumpstarted his heart every time. Liz held up a page between them that showed a normal blood cell in green in the upper left and a mass of bloated cells that were the result of an allergic reaction. Abe gripped the pamphlet in his hands, and when he lowered it they were face to face. Her deep brown eyes were only inches away and he felt like he was swimming in them. He reached his hand around her waste and leaned his lips closer to hers when she bowed her head. They turned to see that all of the daffodils were facing them, and Abe felt Liz roll out of his arms. The daffodils disappeared from sight and he slumped onto the bed alone.
* * * * *
Dr. Reed was fast and accurate with the surgery. He inspected the opening in Abe’s neck with care and used a laser to patch the trachea closed. Dr. Reed finished by sewing the skin together so that it would only have a hairline scar. Abe was carted back to his room to wait to see if any complications would occur. His IV was removed and he couldn’t stop swallowing as the surgery left him with the feeling of something caught in his throat.
Abe tested his voice and found that he could whisper, but Dr. Reed warned him not to strain himself by talking too much. Alone, Abe asked himself what he did wrong with Liz. He whispered curses to himself for behaving like an idiot and looking like desperate moron. He looked out the window just then to see Kim’s pink hat walk beneath his window and turn into the hospital. Abe grabbed the mirror and inspected himself, making a frantic attempt to flatten his skewed hair. He licked his chapped lips when Kim knocked on the door.
Abe waved her in and motioned to the chair. He flipped his chalkboard sign and she read the words “Hello! How are you today?” written in a fluid cursive. She sat at the chair’s edge and held out a large fast-food cup.
“I’m fine, thanks. It’s a milkshake. I’d hoped you could drink it by now. It’s chocolate. I know you can eat chocolate since I see you at Lindsey’s desk with peppermint patties once in a while.”
Abe took the cup and for the first time since high school his brain didn’t stir up paranoid thoughts. The thick, cold milkshake soothed his inflamed throat and he relaxed. He erased his greeting and broke the silence with a playful game of tic-tac-toe.
A conversation grew with Abe asking questions about Kim and her family, her upbringing and she came to be an intern with him. Abe didn’t speak and he let Kim go on as he listened intently. Little by little he was realizing there was much more to her than the perky go-getting attitude she often conveyed.
Kim had been adopted ten years ago by parents that had had one child of their own. She was loved as much by them as her older brother, but it was clear that she was not their natural child. She grew up trying to fit in and please others and tended to be impatient with people who lacked a similar work ethic. Kim had strived for approval ever since she was a child. She had fought off feeling sorry for herself so many times she had locked away those emotions forever. Kim’s acute awareness of herself and status led her to dress conservatively compared to her peers. She kept abreast of current affairs, not that she enjoyed it, but so that she would have something to say if asked how she was doing.
Abe reflected on his own adult life as she talked, feeling regret for squandered opportunities. He had been living a golden life by comparison to hers, and he felt wrong for judging her every day of their internship. He felt he had been making excuses why things had not gone his way all the time and realized how spoiled he was to have come this far in his life and not be thankful. Abe again compared himself to Kim’s strength and determination and found himself wonting. Normally this would have made him jealous and angry, and he might have blamed someone or something for holding him back. But now he felt like he had found a fountain of strength in her, that now he was seeing her in a new way.
Abe got through this outer shell of Kim’s by scratching out a few words in chalk and listening. The lunch hour was over quickly, but Kim didn’t mind staying with Abe a little longer. She felt as though she owed him for stabbing a hole through his throat, and she apologized again before turning to go. Now that he understood her, Abe felt a flood of emotion begin to grow. It erupted through his eyes, and tears streamed down his cheeks. He didn’t know what was wrong with him or why he couldn’t maintain his normally stoic face until she had gone. Kim was suddenly in tears as well, and before either of them knew it she was sitting on his bed and holding his face in her hands. Abe reached his hands up to her shoulders and gently pulled her to him. They kissed with a passion of longing, of need, and of understanding. When their lips parted Abe could see daffodils staring at them.
* * * * *
Marty had put on Kim’s hat and scarf. The hat was crooked to one side and the scarf was lazily slung around his neck as he watched his roommate Abe saunter down the hall.
“You okay man?” Marty asked.
Abe felt his throat, thought better of speaking and simply nodded.
“Whoa, are those stitches? What happened?” Marty asked.
Abe was forced to croak out an answer. “Allergies” he said.
“Dude, that is some nasty allergy to rip open your throat like that. Looks like you mighta spawned a baby alien outta there.” Marty said.
Abe started coffee and motioned to his head and neck, indicating the scarf and hat Marty was wearing.
“Oh, right. Whose are these? I was worried that you might’ve been out cross-dressing… y’know, starting a new career since you hate your internship and the people there.”
Abe shook his head and gazed down into his empty coffee cup and tried to think of a response using as few words as he could. He pointed toward his room.
“Hope,” his scratchy voice eked out, “understanding… trust…” But he knew those words weren’t working as Marty stared at him blankly. “True love” Abe said and nodded, satisfied with the expression of surprise from Marty.
Kim had padded softly down the hall to hear them talk. When she saw Marty with her hat she couldn’t help but giggle and they both turned to see her. Shocked, Marty rose from the chair and the hat fell to the floor. Marty gave the hat and scarf back to Kim and she told him all he had to do was ask next time and she would be glad to loan him something to wear. Kim called work and told them both she and Abe would be very late in coming in due to recovery complications.
* * * * *
Liz skipped through the snow, again letting her imagination brew up a new concoction of visions along the way. When she arrived at the hospital to check in she saw that Abe had been checked out. ‘Whew,’ she thought, ‘that couldn’t have been more awkward, and it’s a good thing he never managed to say anything.’ A few hours later a bouquet of mixed flowers arrived addressed to her. She smelled the daisies, lavender and snapdragons as she pulled out an envelope addressed to her and Dr. Reed. Inside was a small piece of green slate with a message on it written in chalk. It read “Kim and I both thank you. I hope you enjoy the daffodils! – Abe” Kim gleefully giggled and looked at the flowers before her, now daffodils, and they looked back. She loved her job and strode off to show her daffodils to someone new.
Berandor
lunatic
And here I am with the next-to-last, nay the penultimate comment for round 1
MarauderX, Insight
[sblock]Very, very nice! I really enjoyed your story, watching two people - well, we don't watch them fall in love, but rather we watch them discover they've already fallen in love. A sweet ending and unusual (in Ceramic DM terms) topic.
Two things sprang out to me, one of them will be detailed below. The other would be a scarcity of dialogue, especially in the first half of the story. I would have loved to hear Kim talk to Abe, or Liz (what's with the three-letter-names?) confer with the doctor. You could have shown us Abe's gruff demeanor in his reactions to her first visit, maybe in the things he writes on the chalkboard, slowly softening. I know there's a time (and word) limit, but maybe starting the story with Abe in hospital and a short paragraph detailing the situation might have given you some room there. But really, I am a sap at heart, and this story was pretty much down my alley. Thanks.
The Pictures
I felt you had two very nice pics and two more or less throwaways. The "snowman" picture was nice. Not only that I really love the visual, transferring a piece of quiet to Abe with it was a good touch. The "blood cells" were an innovative use; very nice. The "high kick" was just odd; I mean, a nurse and a doctor making Kung-fu sparring in the hospital cafeteria? Finally, the "Fat Jack" (see reveal's entry) was a throwaway, too. The roommate had no real presence in the story, no real function except to appear later on as the pic. I thought at first the pic showed Abe, and I would have applauded you for such a use; being overweight would have instantly formed a connection to his cynical and grumpy demeanor.
[/sblock]
MarauderX, Insight
[sblock]Very, very nice! I really enjoyed your story, watching two people - well, we don't watch them fall in love, but rather we watch them discover they've already fallen in love. A sweet ending and unusual (in Ceramic DM terms) topic.
Two things sprang out to me, one of them will be detailed below. The other would be a scarcity of dialogue, especially in the first half of the story. I would have loved to hear Kim talk to Abe, or Liz (what's with the three-letter-names?
) confer with the doctor. You could have shown us Abe's gruff demeanor in his reactions to her first visit, maybe in the things he writes on the chalkboard, slowly softening. I know there's a time (and word) limit, but maybe starting the story with Abe in hospital and a short paragraph detailing the situation might have given you some room there. But really, I am a sap at heart, and this story was pretty much down my alley. Thanks.The Pictures
I felt you had two very nice pics and two more or less throwaways. The "snowman" picture was nice. Not only that I really love the visual, transferring a piece of quiet to Abe with it was a good touch. The "blood cells" were an innovative use; very nice. The "high kick" was just odd; I mean, a nurse and a doctor making Kung-fu sparring in the hospital cafeteria? Finally, the "Fat Jack" (see reveal's entry) was a throwaway, too. The roommate had no real presence in the story, no real function except to appear later on as the pic. I thought at first the pic showed Abe, and I would have applauded you for such a use; being overweight would have instantly formed a connection to his cynical and grumpy demeanor.
[/sblock]
BSF
Explorer
Dude, you don't get sick on the weekend. They don't give you sick days for times when you aren't there.
Seriously though, I hope your Great Aunt gets better soon.
Good news folks, I finally closed on the house we are selling. I have the rest of the day off and I will be trying to do my judgements for match 2.
We will see how match 3 works out. I will try to get those done this weekend as well. We also have match 4 finishing up. Woot!
Everyone in Match 2, please check later tonight if you are able. Speaker, can you weigh in on your availability for Round 2, match 1? I would prefer to kick that off this weekend if everyone is available.
Seriously though, I hope your Great Aunt gets better soon.
Good news folks, I finally closed on the house we are selling. I have the rest of the day off and I will be trying to do my judgements for match 2.
We will see how match 3 works out. I will try to get those done this weekend as well. We also have match 4 finishing up. Woot!
Everyone in Match 2, please check later tonight if you are able. Speaker, can you weigh in on your availability for Round 2, match 1? I would prefer to kick that off this weekend if everyone is available.
arwink
Clockwork Golem
Not quite the story I wanted to tell, but a friday night game that ran late and sleeping through my alarm meant I've already blown the deadline so I thought I'd put up what I had.
Round 1, Match 4
MarauderX vs. reveal vs. Arwink
Cold Comfort
Arrival
The Prague field office barely deserved the name, consisting of little more than a back-alley flat only a little larger than your average bed-sit. Dane had been warned not to expect much, but even his low expectations couldn’t match the reality of the room – cables snaking across ancient furniture, printouts hung over the doors, wet socks dangling from thin lines of string that ran over the heater. The entire place smelled of wet wool and cigarettes, his local contact asleep in a leather couch behind the desk. O’Banion’s pudding-dough face was half-covered by a little girl’s hat, a half-empty bottle of scotch still sitting by his side. The briefing said he liked to drink, but it said nothing about pink hats and scarves with bows on the tassels. Dane wasn’t sure which of the two traits was less appropriate in a field contact. Every instinct told him to walk out, just accept that the hassle wasn’t worth it.
He coughed, loudly, and watched one of O’Banion’s beady eyes snap open. Dane placed his SIG on the desk, eliminating any doubt that he was armed. It saved time in the long run, especially with the backwater offices. He was almost impressed when O’Banion didn’t glance at the gray steel, keeping his eye trained on Dane’s own.
“Who are you?”
Dane resisted the urge to sigh.
“Dane Kruger,” he said. “LA branch, arrived two hours ago. You requested an investigator.”
O’Banion looked him over again, raising an eyebrow.
“Where you from originally, before LA? Jamaica? El Salvador?”
“Los Angles. My mother was Brazilian.”
“Right. Figures.”
O’Banion tapped a keyboard, waiting for the slow whine of the computer to signal it was ready to work. Dane waited quietly while the older man ignored him, focusing in the computer. After a few minutes, O’Banion swore.
“Well, you weren’t joking. You’re supposed to be here,” he said. He eased his bulk beneath the table, rummaging through a box of manila folders.
“The seers know what they’re doing, normally,” Dane said.
O’Banion laughed, a barking sound like a dog being strangled.
“Sure they do,” he said. “Listen, how much do you know about snow.”
Dane picked up the SIG and slid it back into its holster.
“I come from Los Angeles,” he said. “I know enough.”
Snow
In Los Angeles the agency used Chryslers. Big cars that had the grunt and power to glide through traffic like sleek sharks. O’Banion used a compact mini, and European invention that seemed to wrap around his bulk like a sardine can. The engine roared like a lawnmower as the Englishman shifted gears, cutting down a back alley at high speed.
“First reports came in a few weeks ago,” O’Banion roared over the sound of the engine. “People being barricaded in their house by snowmen. Nothing to it really – local newspapers started referring to them as pranks. Open your door one morning, find a small horde of mutated snow sculptures built on their front lawn.”
Dane took notes, his cold fingers scribbling in a notebook with a stubby pencil.
“Always the same neighborhood?” He asked.
“Always. Usually the same two streets.”
“So what changed?”
“Bodies,” O’Banion said. “Six of them, originally. They started appearing in the middle of the snowman swarms, dead from frostbite. Most of them were blue by the time they were found, limbs so stiff you could snap them off if you wanted too.”
Dane nodded a few times, chewing on the pencil. Tires screamed as O’Banion took another corner.
“Locals think it’s a serial killer, don’t they?” he said.
O’Banion nodded
“They’re calling him the White Death,” he said. “More prosaic than they would have been back home, I’ll give them that. People are locking their children up at night, trying to keep them safe.”
The mini slides around another corner, skids to a stop.
“We’re here.”
Even after reading the report, knowing what to expect, there is something unsettling about the laneway. The endless expanse of snow men, locked in a frozen mockery of a street scene. Coal eyes glared at him from a hundred faces, a hint of malevolence in their beady expression. The pounding headache he always got when faced with psychic residue started almost immediately.
“Yeah,” Dane thought. “Of course you’d think this is a prank.”
Seeds
Dane left O’Banion to talk to the locals, focused his attention on scouring the area. His head throbbed as he walked down the street, as though something inside was battering at the sides of his skull, trying to get out. He ignored it as best he could, let the training take over. His attention focused on the narrow beam of the flashlight, the blue-tinged corpse left in the heart of the street.
It was male, approximately fifty years old, a man whose teeth and withered features still bore the legacy of the occupation that would have dominated his childhood. Bad Russian dental work, the kinds of scars that suggested early beatings, a nose that had been broken and reset. Probably a revolutionary in his teens. Dane made a note of the details, photographed the frozen face. It might not be important, but it paid to be prepared.
The police would search the body for signs of trauma, if they bothered searching at all. Dane just looked at the eyes and swore.
He found the first egg-sac hidden in the ear cavity, a tiny ball wedged behind the lobe. The swirling green membrane bulged as the light hit it, stretching and flexing as something tried to reach out for the source of the change in warmth. Something small and dangerous wanted out.
Dane switched off the flashlight and lit a cigarette. With shaking hands, he buried the burning tip in the corpses ear and waited for the smell of sizzling ichor.
Interlude
Dane held his hands as close as he could to the mini’s small heater, waiting patiently for the athsmatic gasps of warm air to thaw out his fingers. His head still buzzed with energy, the lingering after-taste of psychic phenomena, but the pills were chipping away at the pain. Now all they could do was wait, be ready for the moment when all hell broke loose. O’Banion opened a small hip-flask and took a long hit of the contents, offered it to Dane when he was done. Dane just shook his head.
“You sure they were seeds?” O’Banion asked. Dane nodded.
“Damn.”
Silence. The snow falling on the street. The evil glare of the snowman a dozen yards from the windscreen. O’Banion kept drinking. Dane kept his eyes on the street.
“I lost my daughter to those bastards,” O’Banion said. His voice seemed out of place, empty and hollow against the silence of the car. The maudlin tinge of alcohol beneath the words. “Years ago, before I was recruited.”
Dane didn’t say anything.
“She was seven,” O’Banion said. He shook the hip-flask, listened to the sloshing sound. Sighing, he pushed the cap in place and buried it in the folds of his jacket. One broad hand pulled the scarf in place, ran a finger along the pink bow.
“Get some sleep,” O’Banion said. “I’ll keep watch.”
Dreaming
The hammer of the drum filled the air, driving the pulse faster and faster. Dane was ducking and weaving, lost in the dance, letting the music push him further. The sun pounded down on the courtyard. Rio heat, his body covered in sweat, moving in tandem with his partner. Dane kicked out, the other man leapt to avoid it. The other man punched and Dane was already gone.
“Fighting or dancing?”
The voice echoed in his head, thundering through him like a bolt from god. Dane almost faltered, let his partners fist get a fraction to close to his face before he ducked. He cursed himself for making a rookie mistake.
“Both,” he said. Another kick, another leap, a dodge that become a forward flip.
“Why?”
The voice wasn’t curious, it knew the answer. Dane just had to say it.
“They were slaves,” ge said. “Weaponless, watched, never free of their masters vigil. They pretended to dance in order to escape detection, to prevent the guards from knowing they were learning to fight.”
“They killed for their freedom?”
“Yes.”
The other man’s leg flashed forward, too fast to dodge. It caught Dane in the stomach, sent him tumbling backwards. He could feel the ruptured rib, the wheeze that came with a punctured lung. He landed badly, struggled to rise, but the other man was already on top of him with teeth and claws driving for his throat.
“So will I.”
Storm
The red-button eyes of a snowman were glaring at Dane through the window, it’s cold face pressed close enough to the glass that he could see the handprints of it creator. Dane started back, one hand diving for the SIG, got tangled in the seatbelt. Cold air hit the back of his neck. O’Banion was gone when he checked over his shoulder, nothing left but a shredded seat-belt and the broken glass of the window.
Snowmen were swarming the car, frozen bodies clustering around it. Both the doors were blocked, covered by a wall of snowy bodies and faces. Dane pulled himself free of the seatbelt and kicked at the windshield. When it refused to give way he fired at it, shattering the glass. He pulled himself onto the roof of the mini, gun still gripped in his hand. No use firing, but it made him feel a little better. He could see footprints in the new snow, O’Banion’s by the size.
Dane looked at the clustered snowmen, four men deep around the car. His head was just about splitting open, pounding like a hundred drums. He let the beat carry him and ran, bouncing off the bonnet and into the air. He could feel a surge of hate reaching for him, almost wrapping around him as he soared through the air, then he hit the ground running.
Round 1, Match 4
MarauderX vs. reveal vs. Arwink
Cold Comfort
Arrival
The Prague field office barely deserved the name, consisting of little more than a back-alley flat only a little larger than your average bed-sit. Dane had been warned not to expect much, but even his low expectations couldn’t match the reality of the room – cables snaking across ancient furniture, printouts hung over the doors, wet socks dangling from thin lines of string that ran over the heater. The entire place smelled of wet wool and cigarettes, his local contact asleep in a leather couch behind the desk. O’Banion’s pudding-dough face was half-covered by a little girl’s hat, a half-empty bottle of scotch still sitting by his side. The briefing said he liked to drink, but it said nothing about pink hats and scarves with bows on the tassels. Dane wasn’t sure which of the two traits was less appropriate in a field contact. Every instinct told him to walk out, just accept that the hassle wasn’t worth it.
He coughed, loudly, and watched one of O’Banion’s beady eyes snap open. Dane placed his SIG on the desk, eliminating any doubt that he was armed. It saved time in the long run, especially with the backwater offices. He was almost impressed when O’Banion didn’t glance at the gray steel, keeping his eye trained on Dane’s own.
“Who are you?”
Dane resisted the urge to sigh.
“Dane Kruger,” he said. “LA branch, arrived two hours ago. You requested an investigator.”
O’Banion looked him over again, raising an eyebrow.
“Where you from originally, before LA? Jamaica? El Salvador?”
“Los Angles. My mother was Brazilian.”
“Right. Figures.”
O’Banion tapped a keyboard, waiting for the slow whine of the computer to signal it was ready to work. Dane waited quietly while the older man ignored him, focusing in the computer. After a few minutes, O’Banion swore.
“Well, you weren’t joking. You’re supposed to be here,” he said. He eased his bulk beneath the table, rummaging through a box of manila folders.
“The seers know what they’re doing, normally,” Dane said.
O’Banion laughed, a barking sound like a dog being strangled.
“Sure they do,” he said. “Listen, how much do you know about snow.”
Dane picked up the SIG and slid it back into its holster.
“I come from Los Angeles,” he said. “I know enough.”
Snow
In Los Angeles the agency used Chryslers. Big cars that had the grunt and power to glide through traffic like sleek sharks. O’Banion used a compact mini, and European invention that seemed to wrap around his bulk like a sardine can. The engine roared like a lawnmower as the Englishman shifted gears, cutting down a back alley at high speed.
“First reports came in a few weeks ago,” O’Banion roared over the sound of the engine. “People being barricaded in their house by snowmen. Nothing to it really – local newspapers started referring to them as pranks. Open your door one morning, find a small horde of mutated snow sculptures built on their front lawn.”
Dane took notes, his cold fingers scribbling in a notebook with a stubby pencil.
“Always the same neighborhood?” He asked.
“Always. Usually the same two streets.”
“So what changed?”
“Bodies,” O’Banion said. “Six of them, originally. They started appearing in the middle of the snowman swarms, dead from frostbite. Most of them were blue by the time they were found, limbs so stiff you could snap them off if you wanted too.”
Dane nodded a few times, chewing on the pencil. Tires screamed as O’Banion took another corner.
“Locals think it’s a serial killer, don’t they?” he said.
O’Banion nodded
“They’re calling him the White Death,” he said. “More prosaic than they would have been back home, I’ll give them that. People are locking their children up at night, trying to keep them safe.”
The mini slides around another corner, skids to a stop.
“We’re here.”
Even after reading the report, knowing what to expect, there is something unsettling about the laneway. The endless expanse of snow men, locked in a frozen mockery of a street scene. Coal eyes glared at him from a hundred faces, a hint of malevolence in their beady expression. The pounding headache he always got when faced with psychic residue started almost immediately.
“Yeah,” Dane thought. “Of course you’d think this is a prank.”
Seeds
Dane left O’Banion to talk to the locals, focused his attention on scouring the area. His head throbbed as he walked down the street, as though something inside was battering at the sides of his skull, trying to get out. He ignored it as best he could, let the training take over. His attention focused on the narrow beam of the flashlight, the blue-tinged corpse left in the heart of the street.
It was male, approximately fifty years old, a man whose teeth and withered features still bore the legacy of the occupation that would have dominated his childhood. Bad Russian dental work, the kinds of scars that suggested early beatings, a nose that had been broken and reset. Probably a revolutionary in his teens. Dane made a note of the details, photographed the frozen face. It might not be important, but it paid to be prepared.
The police would search the body for signs of trauma, if they bothered searching at all. Dane just looked at the eyes and swore.
He found the first egg-sac hidden in the ear cavity, a tiny ball wedged behind the lobe. The swirling green membrane bulged as the light hit it, stretching and flexing as something tried to reach out for the source of the change in warmth. Something small and dangerous wanted out.
Dane switched off the flashlight and lit a cigarette. With shaking hands, he buried the burning tip in the corpses ear and waited for the smell of sizzling ichor.
Interlude
Dane held his hands as close as he could to the mini’s small heater, waiting patiently for the athsmatic gasps of warm air to thaw out his fingers. His head still buzzed with energy, the lingering after-taste of psychic phenomena, but the pills were chipping away at the pain. Now all they could do was wait, be ready for the moment when all hell broke loose. O’Banion opened a small hip-flask and took a long hit of the contents, offered it to Dane when he was done. Dane just shook his head.
“You sure they were seeds?” O’Banion asked. Dane nodded.
“Damn.”
Silence. The snow falling on the street. The evil glare of the snowman a dozen yards from the windscreen. O’Banion kept drinking. Dane kept his eyes on the street.
“I lost my daughter to those bastards,” O’Banion said. His voice seemed out of place, empty and hollow against the silence of the car. The maudlin tinge of alcohol beneath the words. “Years ago, before I was recruited.”
Dane didn’t say anything.
“She was seven,” O’Banion said. He shook the hip-flask, listened to the sloshing sound. Sighing, he pushed the cap in place and buried it in the folds of his jacket. One broad hand pulled the scarf in place, ran a finger along the pink bow.
“Get some sleep,” O’Banion said. “I’ll keep watch.”
Dreaming
The hammer of the drum filled the air, driving the pulse faster and faster. Dane was ducking and weaving, lost in the dance, letting the music push him further. The sun pounded down on the courtyard. Rio heat, his body covered in sweat, moving in tandem with his partner. Dane kicked out, the other man leapt to avoid it. The other man punched and Dane was already gone.
“Fighting or dancing?”
The voice echoed in his head, thundering through him like a bolt from god. Dane almost faltered, let his partners fist get a fraction to close to his face before he ducked. He cursed himself for making a rookie mistake.
“Both,” he said. Another kick, another leap, a dodge that become a forward flip.
“Why?”
The voice wasn’t curious, it knew the answer. Dane just had to say it.
“They were slaves,” ge said. “Weaponless, watched, never free of their masters vigil. They pretended to dance in order to escape detection, to prevent the guards from knowing they were learning to fight.”
“They killed for their freedom?”
“Yes.”
The other man’s leg flashed forward, too fast to dodge. It caught Dane in the stomach, sent him tumbling backwards. He could feel the ruptured rib, the wheeze that came with a punctured lung. He landed badly, struggled to rise, but the other man was already on top of him with teeth and claws driving for his throat.
“So will I.”
Storm
The red-button eyes of a snowman were glaring at Dane through the window, it’s cold face pressed close enough to the glass that he could see the handprints of it creator. Dane started back, one hand diving for the SIG, got tangled in the seatbelt. Cold air hit the back of his neck. O’Banion was gone when he checked over his shoulder, nothing left but a shredded seat-belt and the broken glass of the window.
Snowmen were swarming the car, frozen bodies clustering around it. Both the doors were blocked, covered by a wall of snowy bodies and faces. Dane pulled himself free of the seatbelt and kicked at the windshield. When it refused to give way he fired at it, shattering the glass. He pulled himself onto the roof of the mini, gun still gripped in his hand. No use firing, but it made him feel a little better. He could see footprints in the new snow, O’Banion’s by the size.
Dane looked at the clustered snowmen, four men deep around the car. His head was just about splitting open, pounding like a hundred drums. He let the beat carry him and ran, bouncing off the bonnet and into the air. He could feel a surge of hate reaching for him, almost wrapping around him as he soared through the air, then he hit the ground running.
arwink
Clockwork Golem
And because I forgot to link the pictures:
Pic One: Street full of Snowmen - Most of the story
Pic Two: The style looks like copereira, which is the basis for the martial arts and history section in Dreaming"
Pic Three: The seed pod hidden in the coprses ear
Pic Four: Is O'Banion in his daughter's scarf and hat, particualrly as he appears in Arrival.
Pic One: Street full of Snowmen - Most of the story
Pic Two: The style looks like copereira, which is the basis for the martial arts and history section in Dreaming"
Pic Three: The seed pod hidden in the coprses ear
Pic Four: Is O'Banion in his daughter's scarf and hat, particualrly as he appears in Arrival.
MarauderX
Explorer
Berandor said:MarauderX, Insight
[sblock]Very, very nice! I really enjoyed your story, watching two people - well, we don't watch them fall in love, but rather we watch them discover they've already fallen in love. A sweet ending and unusual (in Ceramic DM terms) topic.
Two things sprang out to me, one of them will be detailed below. The other would be a scarcity of dialogue, especially in the first half of the story. I would have loved to hear Kim talk to Abe, or Liz (what's with the three-letter-names?
The Pictures
I felt you had two very nice pics and two more or less throwaways. The "snowman" picture was nice. Not only that I really love the visual, transferring a piece of quiet to Abe with it was a good touch. The "blood cells" were an innovative use; very nice. The "high kick" was just odd; I mean, a nurse and a doctor making Kung-fu sparring in the hospital cafeteria? Finally, the "Fat Jack" (see reveal's entry) was a throwaway, too. The roommate had no real presence in the story, no real function except to appear later on as the pic. I thought at first the pic showed Abe, and I would have applauded you for such a use; being overweight would have instantly formed a connection to his cynical and grumpy demeanor.
[/sblock]
Hey, thanks for the quick comments.
[sblock]Aside from the first picture I was at a loss for how to use them. I've been reading some Steinbeck so I was trying a little less dialogue and practicing using paraphrased descriptions instead. I was also trying to not let the pictures be the story focus but as small asides. I thought that having Abe as the overweight guy in last picture would be too easy, and besides that guy's pear shape didn't match the guy in the snowman picture. With little inspiration hitting me when I had time to write it was just easier to cop out with a sappy story instead of action/horror/etc. I had a hard time getting started and with real-life limitations (sleep, work, whatever) we gotta make due with the luck of the draw. Now we wait for the outcome. [/sblock]
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