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salaciouscrumpet · 5 years

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Whumptober Day 4

Whumptober Day 4 Prompt: “Human Shield”

CW: None, I don’t think, aside from references to blood. I don’t think I even swear in this one.

Characters: Kate, Charlie, Luke

When Kate first drifted back to consciousness it happened slowly and gradually, like a piece of wood washing up on the shore, pushed closer to the sand with every fresh wave. She thought she might have fallen asleep at a party: her head was in someone’s lap and that someone was stroking her hair (that someone had better be either Charlie or Luke, because there were only three people on the planet who were allowed to touch her hair and she couldn’t picture her mother at any party she would voluntarily attend). She could hear raised voices, people shouting and laughing and screaming, and there were flashing lights like at a disco, and music, although it was mostly static and she couldn’t make anything out. She had the presence of mind to hope that no one had drawn a dick on her face in Sharpie when she’d passed out, but beyond that she felt warm and safe and like she didn’t have a care in the world.

As the world came more into focus she realized that the raised voices were a mixture of adult and child, and that no one was laughing – in fact, she could hear people crying, children sniffling. The lights weren’t from a disco ball but were instead the blue and white and red of emergency vehicles, and what she had mistook for music was actually a discordant mix of police radios and walkie-talkies. Her head was in someone’s lap, however, and it was Luke’s worried face that slowly filled her field of vision; he was hunched over her, his hands in her hair, and it always surprised her that he should have such elegant-looking hands. His fingers were long and slender, a faint dusting of dark hair over the knuckles and the backs of his hands, and it didn’t seem possible that someone who spent so much of his life being used as a battering ram should have such graceful, beautiful hands. Charlie’s hands were nothing of the sort: short, blunt, square-fingered, with chewed-on nails despite his best efforts because when he was nervous he bit his fingernails no matter how hard he tried not to. Kate blinked, and realized Charlie’s hands were on her chest and they were covered in blood and –

Oh, that hurt.

She opened her mouth, blinking again at the coppery taste on her tongue. It took her a few tries before she managed to mumble, “Wha’ hap’n’d?”

Both Charlie and Luke looked down at her, and the matching expressions of grief and fear made her heart stutter in her chest. Those handsome faces should never look that sad, she decided. Charlie’s mouth was made for smiling, and his teardrop-shaped eyes had little crinkles in the corners whenever he laughed, and maybe Luke didn’t smile nearly enough but even so he was too pretty to wear such sorrow on his face.

Somewhere in the distance a walkie-talkie gave a shrill screech and both Luke and Charlie winced. Kate couldn’t summon up the energy, although the noise annoyed her, too. In fact, everything was too noisy and too bright, and she thought all the other people should just up and leave, and let her be alone with her boys. She wanted to curl up with them both, snuggle between them in their big king-sized bed, and maybe drift back to sleep for the next week or so. Let the world sort out itself for once.

“How much do you remember?” Charlie asked her carefully, even as his hands moved over her skin. She saw that her shirt was more or less gone, tattered shreds of cotton hanging to either side of her chest, and oh that was sad, she had liked that T-shirt. She wondered where her jacket had gone, and if it was in the same sorry shape as her shirt. There was a lot of blood, most of it dark and shining wetly under the flashing lights, and Charlie’s hands were glowing a faint golden-green, like peridots, as he used his healing magic on her. It was warm and tingling but there was an undercurrent of pain, too, like her chest was shot full of fire.

Kate made a face and tried to raise one hand in a gesture of dismissal. Her hand remained limp at her side, her fingers sticky and cold. She didn’t want to admit that she couldn’t remember what had happened, but talking felt like too much effort.

“A Hunter opened fire on a group of were children,” Charlie informed her, and that explained why both he and Luke looked so unhappy, if a bunch of kids had been shot. But then Charlie kept talking, adding, “You jumped in front of them like a human shield.”

“Not human,” Kate pointed out, the words coming out slurred and raspy. It was hard to breathe, like there was a huge weight sitting on her chest, and that made it hard to talk. Both Charlie and Luke winced again, and despite the pain Kate made the effort to talk more, wanting to lighten their mood, “Are you sure that was me? That doesn’t sound like something I would do.”

Charlie huffed out a faint, broken-sounding laugh and Luke’s fingers tightened in her hair, almost to the point of hurting, but the contact was a pleasant distraction from whatever painful thing Charlie was doing to heal her.

“Are the kids all right?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Charlie said softly, and his dark-haired head dipped as he let out a quiet sob. “Yeah, they’re fine. Scared, but unhurt. You … You blocked all the shots.”

“Huh,” Kate said, more bemused than anything else. “Well, how ‘bout that?”

She wanted to say more, but the weight on her chest was getting heavier, and it felt like her lungs were on fire. Could lungs feel pain? She knew that most internal organs didn’t have pain receptors, or maybe it was just the stomach? She remembered reading somewhere – she couldn’t remember where – about how if you could actually feel your digestive system you would be in constant agony, something about … how it felt to break down food? She couldn’t remember. She wondered if other organs were like that.

“Katie!” Luke’s voice was urgent as he gave her the gentlest slap imaginable, like he needed the slap to bring her back to herself, but he was afraid to hurt her. That was kind of funny, since technically speaking she was stronger and tougher than him. “Katie, open your eyes!”

Oh, she’d been drifting. She hadn’t meant to do that. She tried to dredge up a reassuring smile for him, to show him that she was awake and listening, but she wasn’t sure the expression came out right because Luke still looked utterly wrecked. He also looked completely exhausted, and she thought maybe he’d been giving some of his energy to Charlie to help heal her. Or maybe some of the children had actually been hurt and they’d been helping take care of them first, because Kate didn’t particularly care for children but even she understood that in the event of triage they probably needed to be first in line for medical aid. She was pretty tough, so she could wait to be looked over, she was sure of it.

“Hey,” she said. “I’m good.” Only “good” came out more like “g-g-good,” because her teeth were chattering, and that was kind of funny because she normally ran hot but right now she was freezing. Wasn’t that the stereotype, though? That the woman was the one who was cold all the time while her long-suffering husband had to strip down to socks and underwear just to handle how high she turned the furnace up? That wasn’t how it worked with her and Luke and Charlie. Luke, in particular – he was the one who was cold, who hated being cold. He was always sticking his cold feet on her, because she was like a furnace, and she liked to tease him about how funny it was that she was the one who ran hot when he was the one who’d grown up in northern Ontario. She kind of liked the cooler temperatures, but right now she was too cold, and even with her head in Luke’s lap she was aware of how much heat was being leached out by the ground underneath her, especially since the packed dirt also felt wet. And kind of ... sticky? She frowned. Why was she lying in a puddle? Why hadn’t Luke or Charlie moved her someplace dry? That was silly of them.

Kate opened her mouth to tell them they were both being silly, but the words just wouldn’t come out, and before long the thought drifted away, not important enough to hold onto for more than a few seconds. There was someone else at Charlie’s side, an older woman Kate didn’t recognize, and the woman’s hand was on Charlie’s shoulder, glowing a faint white. Kate frowned at that, then closed her eyes, dismissing it as unimportant. Charlie was gay, he wasn’t going to run off with some random MILF, especially not when Luke was gorgeous and perfect and right there and everyone was looking so sad.

“You’re pretty,” she slurred up at Luke. ‘Pretty’ wasn’t the right word – it wasn’t big enough to encapsulate how beautiful Luke was. How beautiful he and Charlie both were. It would have to do, however, because she couldn’t think of any better words, and it was important to her that he knew that. “You should take me home.”

Luke swallowed heavily, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yeah,” he rasped out, his voice hoarse like he’d been screaming or crying or something. “I really want to do that, Katie. I really want to take you home. You just hang in there, okay? Charlie’s going to fix you up. You just have to hold on, okay?”

“M’kay,” Kate said, smiling sleepily up at him. “Hey.” She managed to widen her eyes, and struggled briefly to move into a sitting position. Either her body wouldn’t cooperate or Charlie’s and Luke’s hands on her prevented her from moving – she couldn’t be sure which. “Hey. Are the kids … Are the kids okay?”

“Yeah, babe,” Luke said, sounding weary. “Yeah, they’re all fine.”

“Thanks to you,” said the woman with her hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

“Huh,” Kate said again, closing her eyes. “Well, go me.” She thought she heard Charlie let out another huffed laugh, but she couldn’t be sure. She was already drifting off, and managed to hold onto consciousness long enough to say, “Hey, don’t let anybody draw a dick on my face, ‘kay?”

Whatever response Charlie or Luke might have made was lost as Kate lost her tenuous grip on cognizance. The wave surged up once more, and like a piece of wood, she drifted back out to sea.

#whumptober2019 #day 4 #no.4 #original fiction #almost caught up!

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danbily · 5 years

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Goodbye Vietnam

This is a true story about a winter camping trip that I went on.

As a chubby little boy, I was the perfect fit for Cub Scouts. We built birdhouses, sang silly songs, and, best of all, baked cookies. What I lacked in ambition was more than offset by the snacks at the end of each weekly meeting. My small blue uniform was stretched to its limits as I neared the end of my tour of duty. It was time to move on to Boy Scouts.

My first night at Boy Scouts was shockingly different from Cub Scouts. Mr. Cordy, our scoutmaster, made us suck in our guts as we stood at attention in a straight line while he inspected our uniforms. My scarf tie was on crooked and I could feel that Mr. Cordy was unhappy about my chubby physique. “You will benefit from our exercise program, young man,” was his terse remark as he departed for the next scout in line. I knew then that we were not ending this meeting with cookies and milk, and I was right.

My pack included my best friend, Charlie, my neighbor, Art, my fellow Cub Scout, Paul, and Donny. Donny was the son of our pack supervisor, Mr. Lynn, who’d been an officer in World War II. In addition to our regular troop meeting at the new rec center, we would often meet at their home. The Lynns owned one of the first color TVs in 1958. We would all gather around it and gaze in amazement at actual color film. We compared it to our drab black and white sets at home and laughed. Mrs. Lynn would make us snacks as well. It was so much better than a troop meeting with mean Mr. Cordy.

Just after the New Year, Mr. Lynn announced that he together with Mr. Cordy were planning a winter father-son campout. Each pack would pick their own date and camp just south of Holland, New York, a town known for its lake effect snow.

I was eager to test out my new scout-approved, two-man tent that I’d earned by selling Boy Scout Christmas cards. It was a canvas tent complete with poles, stakes, and a canvas floor. It also had a mosquito net door that would be a nice feature in the summer. The only thing I lacked was an air mattress for the underside of my sleeping bag. My dad and I needed to go shopping for air mattresses as soon as possible.

The following Saturday, we visited our local sporting goods shop. It was located in a small plaza and had a limited selection. The clerk showed us an air mattress made in France, but made no personal recommendation; he fully admitted that he wasn’t into camping. My father ultimately bought two of the ugly blue contraptions. The clerk smirked as he rang them up on the register. I knew this wasn’t a good omen. On the drive home, I opened one of the boxes and tried to read the instructions. My dad looked over at me in disgust. “Don’t they teach you kids how to read at that school I pay hefty taxes to send you to? Hand me those instructions.” I did as requested and my father pulled over to the curb. After a minute, he turned to me. “Damn things are written in French,” he said. “Mom can read Polish,” I said, “Is that close?” Needless to say, it wasn’t. We struggled with the few crude drawings and I understood why the clerk had smirked.

The week of the camping trip was filled with the promise of a new adventure in my young mind. I loved watching Walter Cronkite and The Twentieth Century on Sunday evenings. The film footage of the mighty German army grinding to a halt outside Moscow in the brutal Russian winter was a fresh memory. Would our pack succumb to the same fate in the heavy snow south of Buffalo? Then there was my image of Napoleon sitting inside the Kremlin, burning furniture in order to keep warm. Was Mr. Lynn aware of just how awful George Washington had it during that winter at Valley Forge? As an officer from our military, I hoped he was well versed in the hardships of a winter campout, especially one that involved the greenest of troops known as the Boy Scouts.

That Saturday arrived with clear skies and bountiful sunshine for our two hour drive to Scout camp. We had six carloads in all, as many of the fathers had volunteered to accompany their sons on this make believe Arctic adventure. The local weather forecast never came up in conversation. The radio stations were all based in Buffalo and would not have mentioned any snow this far south of the city. It was still sunny and birds were chirping as we unloaded our camping supplies in the parking lot. We had two toboggans with tow ropes for our tents. Our cooking gear and food was in our Scout regulation knapsacks. We all opted for snowsuits and rubber boots versus any regulation uniform, a wise choice for this ragtag little army of greenhorns. Mr. Lynn took out his map and pointed to a trail leading from the edge of the parking lot to a wooded hillside. “Boys, I mean MEN, we will proceed this way.”

The snow had been packed down on the trail from previous use. It wasn’t difficult to follow. We found a tree sheltered hillside after a one hour hike. Mr. Lynn and Art, our only Eagle Scout, declared that we’d “arrived at encampment.” I personally felt it had more to do with the heavy wheezing now coming from many of the fathers prone to smoking. We were assigned small areas and told to pitch our tents and help with a general mess area for our evening meal. The snowpack was shoveled clear in a twenty foot circle and we started a fire in the middle. We went on a scavenger hunt for every downed tree limb on that hillside. Our fire soon blazed like a blast furnace and our bodies cooked on one side and froze on the other. I understood why the Indians had danced around the fire, they were simply rotating in the heat like chickens on a spit.

The evening meal consisted of beans and weiners emptied from large institutional cans into a five gallon enameled steel cooking pot. We made Scout biscuits by rolling a twig in Bisquick and water. After a dough ball had formed on the end of the twig, it was held over the fire until it turned light brown. We enjoyed the folly of keeping the biscuits on the twig and out of the fire. You either mastered the technique or ate only beans and weiners. I ended up the expert in this bizarre food misadventure and became camp baker for the less able. I must have baked three dozen biscuits that evening. They were served with huge slices of butter. Rounding out our frontier dinner party was hot chocolate and Hostess cupcakes. We all liked to suck out the cream filling first, then eat the frosting.

By the time dinner ended, the wind had picked up and snowflakes were appearing in ever increasing numbers. True to the Buffalo curse, the flakes were blowing parallel to the terrain and entering our tents through the tiniest of cracks in the flap doors. Art, our Eagle Scout, suggested that we lower the mosquito netting once inside, and the screening would catch any snow that made it through the canvas flaps. This indeed proved to be an effective solution, and my dad and I turned in early to the sound of what now seemed like a blizzard and the songs of a rock station on my six transistor radio. Dad only liked “Harbor Lights,” an old song by The Platters that had been recently redone for my generation. Battery life was short in those days and we were soon left with only the wind and our thoughts. My mind focused on those newsreel clips of the mighty German army snowbound thirty miles from Moscow and helpless. That was just about our distance from Buffalo.

Attempting to sleep in the dead cold of winter with the wind whipping the pines above us was a no go from the start. My sleeping bag had been advertised as containing two pounds of genuine goose down. I’d been light on funds at the time and had passed over the deluxe bag with three pounds of goose down. Like the German army, I’d underestimated what cold really means. My father had opted for several dark green woolen army blankets he’d purchased years ago when he and my mother went tent camping in Canada. They were scratchy but warm. So there we lay, me with my teeth chattering from the cold and Dad itching from the coarse army issue woolen blankets. He told me a story about camping in Northern Ontario in early June and having it snow. Even though the fishing went well, my mother never forgave him for the poor timing. I understood her resentment as my own carefree attitude toward camping was waning.

Halfway through our no sleep night, the hot chocolate caught up with my bladder. My dad was in equal need of a nonexistent bathroom in the forest. We struggled with our flashlights to find our boots and untie the many straps that secured both the canvas door flaps and the mosquito netting. We also observed that our brand new French air mattresses were no longer plump and firm. What could be the problem? My dad suggested that the cold had reduced the air volume and it was of no concern to us. The trek up into the pines revealed a full blown lake effect blizzard had descended on our little party of novice campers. The yellow snow we made was covered instantly by the fast falling fresh white variety. “I hope Lynn remembers the way out. There’ll be no tracks to follow by morning,” my father said, not sounding all that confident.

It wasn’t the morning sun that woke us, it was the sting of cold ice water on our backsides. Remember those deflating French air mattresses? Well, they continued to deflate as the night went on. This in turn put our body heat in direct contact with the snowpack beneath our tent floor. The rest was simple physics. We had to stand up and try to dry ourselves as best we could. My dad restarted the campfire with much effort put into finding the kindling and pine logs now buried under a foot of fresh powder. A squirt of charcoal lighter fluid brought the fire to life. So much for the Indian method we’d seen in our handbook. They were smart enough to have long houses, animal pelt clothing, and all the time in the world to make it work. We stood with our backs to the flames as a small group of teeth chattering scouts joined us in a circle of distraught ignorance. Humility was earned one mistake at a time.

Mr. Lynn soon appeared and announced that the smarter option would be to hike out and have breakfast in town at the local diner. I heard no dissenting remarks from the red faced, booger nosed tiny army of boys that had been labeled MEN just twelve hours earlier. Art, the Eagle Scout, got out his map and compass and showed us what he thought was our path out. He was wrong, but our luck held. The snow had abated enough to spot the camp mess hall on the hilltop near the parking lot. With our goal in sight, we broke camp and trudged off in knee deep snow. Each step took a deep breath of effort and the fathers who smoked dearly paid for that extra push. After an hour in the Klondike of Southern Erie County, we all reached the parking lot. Here the vast majority our pack fell down in a snowbank to rest. Thankfully, the Scouts had a full time manager that kept the parking lot and service roads plowed. We brushed the snow off of our caravan of 1950s iron and off we drove to Holland, New York.

Over my pancakes and hot chocolate at the Zider Zee Diner, I could clearly see that the military was not going to be in my future. Mr. Lynn had failed to secure an accurate weather forecast, our equipment was a joke, and Art was incompetent. As a final note, Art went to Vietnam as a second lieutenant. He got so many of his men killed that he returned stateside and entered the priesthood. I became a salesman and stayed at five star hotels. So much for winter camping!

#boy scouts #cub scouts #winter camping #true stories #holland new york

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kittyrredden · 6 years

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How it ends...

Hey guys, sorry it took so long to get this to you. I’ve had zero creative drive lately. But yesterday and today, it just flowed. Originally, LAR was going to go on for years with a wedding and kiddos and junk. But after the breakup with my ex, this is how I rewrote it. It’s mostly just an overview, with some more specific scenes in there that I’d already written. Anyway, this is the rewrite I did…

TL;DR- The end.

The act five side story was going to be a shortened version of act zero. Originally, it was planned to be a whole act following Jaska from leaving Nix Velox (his village), through to the beginning of act one when they were thrown onto the boat. It would cover his journey south, meeting Catlin, his transformation, and the torture he was put through while waiting for the ship that would take them to Paello Isle. Instead, I shortened it down to a 7 page side story.

Here is the overview:

Child Jaska

Chases hawk

Uses powers

Sees through the hawk’s eyes

A little older

Watches father skin an animal

Asks why they kill animals

Teen Jaska

Thanking recent kill for its sacrifice so that his people may live

Journey to Vinea

Joking with companions

Teasing his little brother

Saving Yannick from the bear

The change

Jaska wakes from his dream

Over the course of the next few acts, Jaska would run into Torin more frequently, even to the point of meeting her wife. When he is out with Tonya and they meet up, Tonya gets easily angry and jealous of how flustered both Torin and Jaska are around each other.

Torin on the Bridge

Cast: T=Torin; W=Wife

T- -waiting on a footbridge in the park, staring down at water; thinks about Jaska; flashes back to dreams; grips her hair- Get over it, Tor! It was just a stupid dream! W- What about? T- Oh, nothing. Just a nightmare. Been bugging me all day. W- Wanna talk about it? T- No, I’m fine. W- -frowns-

One day, when out with Presley and Summer, Jaska runs into Torin and Summer invites her to their next dinner party.

At the party, it is obvious that Torin’s wife is not well. She seems extremely tired and Torin takes her home early, but she is pleasant to be around.

Jaska gets on well with Lana and Brandon at his new job. Brandon (being in a wheelchair) mans the monitors while Jaska and Lana do rounds. With absolutely NOTHING happening on the night shift, the pair get up to mischief. Here are a few examples:

L=Lana J=Jaska B=Brandon

The Race

L- -standing in doorway of security office- Bran, tell us who passes the door first. B- K… -Jaska and Lana take off running- -speedwalk thru science lab as not to break anything- -Jaska runs thru basement; Lana noes the fuck out- J- Hey! That’s cheating!! L- -on stairs; jumps banister, cuts J off- Twelve years of gymnastics, bitch! -both run past security office door; walk back panting- L- So, who one? B- Unlike you two, I was working. -J and L stare at monitors for a moment- L- There is literally NOTHING happening! You couldn’t have looked away for two seconds? B- Nope L- -throws hands in the air; walks away-

The Basement

B- -into radio- Hey, need one of you to check the basement. Something fell over. L- -thru radio- Not it! J- -thru radio- Okay, I’ll do it. J- -enters basement, looks around, comes to a set of doors chained and locked; shines light on doors, illuminating the words painted on them in red- Don’t dead… Open inside… That makes no sense. -over radio- Hey, what’s up with the writing on the doors? L- Oh… that’s… don’t worry about that. That’s just the furnace room. Charlie, the last night guard, he did that. Big zombie movie fan. J- -thought bubble- The fuck’s a zombie? B- Keep going, over by the old computer stuff. J- -stares at door for another moment, then continues on. Finds downed item. Nothing else is out of place, no one else in basement-

Brandon warns Lana about flirting too much (in her own way) with Jaska. She denies it, then admits that she is flirting, but it’s just harmless fun and that she doesn’t like him like that.

Catlin goes through a string of jobs, not making it past the training period.

Both Tonya and Arthur express jealousy and suspicion regularly about Catlin and Jaska living together. Neither are pleased that Jaska is supporting her. Arthur never offers to help.

Between Jaska’s protective nature around Catlin and how flustered he gets around Torin, she ends things with Jaska.

One evening, Jaska and Catlin are hanging out on the fire escape and Jaska kisses Catlin. Unbeknownst to them, Arthur is on the street below and sees them. Arthur gives her multiple openings to tell him what happened, but she acts oblivious.

Arthur gets a job offer back in his hometown. He invites her out to dinner, but keeps hesitating all night. The following morning, he finally tells her about the job, then invites her to go with him, then he offers a ring.

Catlin is stunned. She doesn’t know what to think and at 19, she definitely isn’t ready. She doesn’t want to leave her friends. Arthur accuses her of being in love with Jaska, of seeing her on the balcony with him. Finally, he tells her to get her stuff and get out and he storms out of the apartment.

Catlin gathers her things, leaves her key with the doorman and goes home.

Jaska returns home from work to find a note from Catlin saying that she needs time to figure things out. Her room is empty, but for the furniture. [/end act]

The next side story opens with Catlin waking up in bed with Gypsy. What was supposed to be a few nights on the couch that turned into a one-night rebound turns into a full-blown relationship. Catlin falls for Gypsy hard and Gypsy adores her.

When a job opening comes up at the coffee shop, Gypsy recommends Catlin to her boss, but like all the jobs before, it doesn’t go well.

One day, Jake (rabbit) asks Summer how Catlin is doing and she says “Last I heard, she hooked up with a girl at the coffee shop.” He furiously blushes at the idea.

Catlin chances to run into Jake in the market. Coffee becomes a regular thing between the two.

Being single and still very possessive of Catlin, the more Jaska thinks about her out there being happy with another girl, the darker his thoughts get.

Summer comments that they haven’t seen Torin in a while (with a joke in there about how she can never remember Torin’s wife’s name – hint: she is never given a name).

At Gypsy’s urging, and an invitation from Summer, Catlin and Gypsy attend a dinner party. The evening goes well, everyone enjoys Gypsy and Catlin is encouraged to spend more time around her friends again.

Exposed to this new version of Catlin, Jaska doesn’t like who she is becoming. He confronts her about her behaviour.

A season goes by.

The Breakup

Cast: G=Gypsy, C=Catlin

G- I love you and I know you love me but I think there’s someone else. C- What? No! Of course not! G- Sweetie, it’s the same person it’s been since day one. You just need to see that. C- So… you’re breaking up with me? G- Yes. I love you so much, but I’m not the one. I’m just your rebound. Now you need to figure out for yourself who it is and go get them.

Catlin goes to Summer and Presley with all her stuff.

Winnie tells Catlin of an opening at the library. Catlin imagines that scene that takes place in every movie with a library where the bookshelves domino, but she’s trained to reshelve books and run the front desk. It’s not enough to afford her own place, but it’s enough to live off of. She moves back in with Winnie.

Two more seasons pass. Shows Jaska and Catlin in everyday life.

Jaska and Torin

Cast: J=Jaska, T=Torin Jaska has a prophetic dream, wakes up confused, looking at the empty space beside him. Gets up, throws on clothes, runs out into the rain. Finds Torin standing on the other side of a bridge railing. J- Torin! T- Just go away! J- No! What the hell are you doing? T- I can’t do this. She’s gone. I can’t… J- What? T- She’s dead! J- Torin, don’t do this! What about everyone else? Everyone you’ll leave behind? Don’t you know how much that will hurt them? T- I don’t care. None of that matters. J- What about me? T- -looks at him- J- If you do this, do you have any idea what that would do to me? I know it hurts. It will never stop hurting. You’ll always miss her, and you don’t feel like it now, but you will learn how to live without her. You’ll get stronger everyday so it will hurt a little less. Torin, please. You are so important to me. T- -lets go of the railing to cover her face and cry- J- -grabs her and lifts her over the railing to safety- Jaska sits with Torin through the night until she falls asleep, carries her to Catlin’s old room

T- -wakes, goes to Jaska’s room- J- -wakes at the sound of the door- T- Sorry, I’m gonna… J- -pulls back the covers- Come on. T- -sniffs, hurries to the bed and climbs in, falls asleep cuddled up with him-

J- -wakes to find Torin watching him- Hey… T- Hey. You must think I’m crazy. J- No, I think you’re hurting. When my mother died, I was lost. My father didn’t know how to help. He had my little brother and a new baby to see to. He didn’t know how to help me. Mom was the only one who understood me and life without her was impossible, but I got wrapped up in helping my dad and learning my trade and one day I realized… it didn’t hurt like it used to.

T- -strokes his cheek, kisses him- J- Torin… I don’t think… T- -climbs on top of him- You’re important to me too.

Things begin to wind down at this point between characters.

The End

Cast: C=Catlin, J=Jake Cy=Cyrus (SOL), R=Romy (SOL)

Catlin walking through the market. Sees Jaska with Torin out shopping. Sighs. Bumps shoulders with Cyrus. Cy- Oh, sorry. C- -watches him go- R- Hey, are we going to the Valkyrie tonight? Cy- Still hoping to figure out what that was in the shark head?

Catlin continues to the cafe. C- -mumbles- He’ll be in a pink shirt… pink shirt… -sees Jake in a pink shirt- J- -spots her, straightens- C- Jake, you’re not… -blush- J- -sigh- Damn Summer and her meddling. C- -sits- Yea, but this time, I don’t mind so much. J- Yea… yea. Maybe she got it right this time. -turns to waitress to order-

The End

#Life As Rendered #LifeAsRendered #summary #overview #ending #the end

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