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bigmafluff · 3 years

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My Story Chapt.1 & 2

Story!

The Ultimate Fan fiction/Love story! Tom Hiddleston,

This is fiction it is not real I'm not this lucky!

family!Courage ! Faith! And Kids! This book is a new life after parenthood. It is my new journey. And a not so guilty obsession. Thanks for reading!

Summary.

What happens When a Single Mom Who Has devoted her Soul to her Family. receives her Empty nest papers . That the world said she would never have. Hi I'm Shannon ! I'm a writer well I want to be . Need a Publisher first. Where are the Best . In the U.K. Didn't count on Love too. Come find out what happened. It's a great adventure.

Chapter 1

A shocking encounter.

{I want to break free. By Queen, Hello By Lionel Richie, and I can't feel my my face. By the weekend}

FREEDOM!

A new Beginning ! Yup something I thought this would never have. You see I'm a Autism Mom and helped my sis raise her 2 kid when she couldn't by herself. I was One of those mom's that where told That .I was gonna be Raising my Son Lucas all my life. Well God and Lucas had other plans. I'm So Dang Proud!!!!!! So Kids grown. Lucas has an Aide, A Job as a Mechanic/Car dealer back Home . I think the mechanic stuff is his hobbies cause My Lucas Love's to tinker. My Nephew is working for NASA/ and Microsoft which I also think

NASA thing is the hobbies . As I said Tinker Just smaller. Now My Niece Katrina . She Is my Butterfly . Totally out side the box, 4 tour's In the Navy. She's A Young Mama and A News Caster In Little Rock, Arkansas, USA. Here's the twist Her and Her kids do Video's on YouTube for fun.

Enough about My Babies. Writing was not the only reason to Go across the Pond to America's Father land. I had recently gone through several Surgeries to fix my body after losing a extreme amount of weight from a Lifetime of Issues with my weight. 2 charities offer to help me finish that Journey but the only Plastic Surgeon willing to touch me Is at Oxford University Hospital. So Here I Go A Strange women in a strange land .

So When I was all of sudden a Empty nest . I was struck with something I haven't thought bout sense childhood . What do I do when I grow up! LOL !! So I hit my bucket List and started @ the 2 Largest and hardest things to accomplish on that list . Fix my body and Write! . So College to get my literary degree. While Extreme Yoga, Running , lil' bit of Martial art's and Lessons In all form's of skating! [Skating Hobby AKA on DA list!] God, family, and Music Made it all worth it and surprisingly easy! Dream's come when your are working hard and not Looking for it. These are one of those.

Now I'm in a UK/London Airport bundled up with 3 List's and a map on my phone .Braving the unknown, Trying to find DA Baggage claim and Customs in the rather Large Heathrow Airport . Dang!!!! it was noisy! Honestly I wasn't even paying no attention to were I was going. I was just Focused on Trying hard to get out of this busy packed Building ,Stress &Anxiety times 10!!!!!

while heading to Customs Dragging 2 rolling cases and Large tote on my shoulder. I'm walking past a group of screaming women and teens along with flashing lights from camera's Butt I was determined to stay focused on Why I'm in a hurry. I hit something head on and drop to the ground my tote spill and it was like hitting a wall and all of a sudden all the noise stopped. I don't care who says other wise, British and Aussie Ascent's are smooth and sexy and butter! The are several men in the U.K. That send my fan girl hormones into Overload. But only 3 are Single Tom Hiddleston, Henry Cavill, and Luke Evan's.

Now Tom Hiddleston is epic. Stage, screen, voice, He is it. He is melt worthy . Hint's the screamers! 6/2 160 Stormy blue eyes , He's strutting the Black dye job for a movie he just finished he is a naturally curly blonde. I'm a sucker For men's curls no Joke. Pure Killer Eye Candy !!!!!

As I try to pick my things up and apologize I see a hand also picking up my things . He touched my hand and I look up and see those wonderful blue's I start to shake to nervous to talk . I shake my head and Just finish picking up my things . I don't have time for this and I don't want to have a fainting spell from nerves it this Airport. So keeping my head down I stand . Say Thank you and Apologize again for slamming into the man and Leave before he says anything.

One hour Later!!!!!

I made it to my hotel via Uber. I changed , called family especially Lucas my Captain America. I ordered pizza {Yes ! there is Pizza in the U.K."} And was going thru everything and found my Chromebook! But my Ticket receipt and my Night Manager Novel is missing . Well that sucks 'I'm hoping I can get home on the stub. I wasn't as mad about the receipt as I was about my Book. I Just bought it. Before I left I had watched the series With my sister. She said that I had to read

the book to get the full experience. I only just got past the 2nd chapter when I landed. Anyways I was laying down and working on the next book in my children's book arsenal. When I must of passed out . Cause I woke to The ringing of my phone.

I go to answer it .Noticing it was already morning. A very groggy Lucas Wishes Mama a good morning and goodnight due to the time difference. After 45minutes for trying to tell my son I am OK and he needed to go to bed. I was finally able to shower and get ready for my day. I decided to stay and write today so my body can adjust before I go rampaging thru London looking for a publisher. I got half way thru Luca 's day in wonderland when I git a knock at My room door.

I open The door and there he is again invading my Life and charging hormones I thought long dead. Thomas William Hiddleston and he was holding my book with the receipt sticking out of it and a white rose . I'm thinking DA rose was a sign of peace. I'm standing there speechless. I think He realized I was a little Star struck so he helped me Back in to my room . Sat me down and brought me the water bottle I had on my Nightstand . I took a sip and Shook My self out of the fog I was in.

I begin to stutter and When he put His Finger over my lips. He then Said " Calm yourself Girl then we have Us a chat Yes? Where is the Tea around here ,or do you drink it" . All I could do is point to the Mini fridge. Curiously He Looks in the fridge . Then I remembered The English drink it hot . Then I said Finally calmed enough to be clear.

" Stop ! Look above it next to the coffee pot. I drink my Tea cold. I'm sorry! I think the stuff you want is in the Lil' treasure box next to The pot Sir. After a Little while Mr. Hiddleston And I Had interesting Chat . Yes we did. Basically This very conceded ,Arrogant , But Knock-out Gorgeous Man. Basically Had to find me Just because I didn't ask his name or for selfie or any thing. Honestly I think he was Just messing with me cause He Saw My Funko babies on the coffee table . Yes! There were a couple of His there.

He asked what I was doing here In his Home Across the pond. I showed him my stories on my Chromebook. Hey I was thinking he might be able to help me. I told him I was looking for a publisher . I also told him I was Do to have surgery I a couple of weeks, while I was here at the University Hospital. Hey When I get nervous thing's just spew I can't help it. So I told Him all of It Right down to my sudden empty nest. All while he read one of my Stories and nodding. He is in the middle of, Luca and The Golden Lion.

Thomas asked me some Questions about the story. I asked him some to. We bantered and I was surprisingly calm and comfy just chatting along. No longer nervous or anxious . We had been talking for hours . Tom was getting ready to leave . He handed me my book then held my hand there then whispered in my ear making me shiver." Still no selfie , no autograph, or Scream, Well Mrs. Jones. I would say You weren't a fan except for your greeting. So what is a Guy to do to get your attention. We will find out won't we, Till I see you again my Lady." I closed the door behind him as he left. Then promptly passed out right therein front of the door. Life just got interesting !

Chapter 2

Career Change Wow!

[Walking on Sunshine by Katrina and the waves, Hay YA by OutKast, High hopes By Panic at the disco.]

I woke the next morning to sunshine and birdsong. It must be a sign I am on the right track. So Coffee a Shower and breakfast burrito's at McDonald's, and I'm out in London . I'm Publisher hunting. I had a call from the Hospital about my per-opp appointment for surgery. That is in a few day's. So Little nervous about that . As I walk into my first office building then I Stop in the lobby when my phone rings.

It was a local # so I answered . It was a Guy named Luke Parsons He is a free lance publisher that heard about my stories. I was shocked how did he hear about me. He asked if we could meet at his office at 3pm. I agreed,he gave me the address and hung up. I went in to the build kinda stoked . I figure I try all my options. So through out the day I went to many publishing companies all saying the same which pissed me off to no end. But did I show it NO. Just because I'm American they won't even Look at them. I couldn't even eat . I grabbed a Juice @ a convenience store, then went back to my hotel to change. I needed time to find this place for my 3:00 meeting with Mr. parsons and I want to make a good impression since I was rejected so many other times today.

So I decided to call a Uber because I felt I had been walking all day and needed a small break . When we Pulled up to the Building and guess who was standing there with a smart ass smile on his face! Yup! Tom was opening my door after paying the driver , which I didn't expect. He grabs My hand and kisses my palm. Honestly why is a guy like him even paying me any attention . I'm not the tiny,skinny little thing that he is normally with and I don't act or sing. It's frustrating and exhilarating at the same time. GOD HELP ME!!! I told my self.

I asked Tom what he was doing here and then everything clicked. He told Mr. Parson's about me. When I asked how he knew Mr. Parsons. Tom told me that Luke was a Publicist by trade but had a small publishing company on the side as a hobby. So not letting go of my hand Thomas took me inside to meet Luke. Tom stayed in the waiting room as I went into Luke's office. He didn't have a huge office, but it was still dark and intimidating. The tall blonde man in the gray suit, stood and shook my hand . And I sat in the chair across from his desk. when I was going to speak. But he straight shut mt up with a finger. He started Hounding me about Tom. Ii became Anxious and when that happens I Babble and stutter badly. I spilled everything from my weight to the confrontation @ my hotel. By that point I am crying and Thomas came in and took one look at me and Was about to give Luke the business when Luke stopped him Saying He needed to Gage my character. Do to the fact that Thomas was one of his most prominent Clients. I relaxed cause Tom did. And Luke apologized .

When all was calmed. Tom pulled a chair next to me. He told me to go ahead and give Luke my flash drive with my book copies on it . All while holding my hand and rubbing my back . I have to admit I had a small smile on my face cause I was feeling @ peace with TWH sitting and pampering me. It was nice. Mr. Parsons plugged my flash drive into his desk top. While telling me to call him Luke. He said regardless if he likes mysteries or not He is probably gonna see a lot of me because he was Tom's Publicist. I am not giving any weight to that remark not yet .AHAHAH!!!! As Luke was reading Tommy and I were talking and Honestly I needed to get a lot of my frustration's off my chest .Unfortunately Thomas was my victim , willing I might add considering he was grinning the whole time.

Once I was done giving the 3rd degree to Tommy. He squeezed my hand then answered." Well Shannon. I have been in this business for a while now and out of all my so called fans. I never had one Ignore me! They'll always wanted something from me. A picture, to Kneel,autograph,selfie,hug,any attention I would give they sucked it from me. But when you ran into me at the airport. The funko toy's spilling from your bag told me your were a fan and I saw your face you recognized me, I heard you breath hitch. Yet you said sorry and left. No selfie, No nothing. It intrigued me so much I had Luke here who was with me that day check you out using the stub and book with your name and address in America in it . Which also gave me more proof you were a fan." as he continues to explain I look at him in awe he has no clue how bad I want to fan girl and ask for all those things but my heart may be with him but my mind is on what Luke is doing because Luke has my future in his hands.

Back to Tom's explanation." Shannon I came to your room Just to give a fan a gift. On my way to my Mother's for lunch. I ended up canceling lunch when you froze on me. Then I was so humbled by your nervousness. Dearling ." He says as he caresses my face ,raising Luke's eyebrows he is reading. Tom finally finishes with," As I was leaving your room I knew I had to know you more and since you were Looking for someone to help you get your stories read I talked to Luke about it and he was happy to get a new client especially one not for the public business but for His hobby. Now that I explained everything Love turn and listen to Luke I think he has something to say."

That caught my attention. I shook off the haze from listening to Tom . Turned my head to see a smiling almost ecstatic Luke. Looking at us. Then retold me he loved my stories. He said the fan-fix he even might know someone who might want to turn it into a play with the right circumstances. The other 2 he wanted to know if this is a story arc Like the old Harry Potter Series going on cause he could make it happen if there was gonna be more. He also asked about the Illustration in the stories.

I answered him promptly,about Luca and his daydreams and how they relate to my son who is Autistic and who also did the pictures for my stories Neither of them realized I was a mother . Which took both by surprise. Luke asked if I was married . OMG ! Would I have let Tom flirt with me if I was. Yes ! I would have, But I told Luke the truth I have been separated and divorced. For many years. And my Son is almost 30. that floored Tom ! I guess he thought is was younger Ha! Wait till he finds out I'm 2 years older than him. Dang straight! Cougar Power !

Now I get excited when Luke pulls a rather large group of paper's out of his desk. And writes on them. The put's them in front of me and explains. "Now Shannon can I call you that . Of course I can!" I just nod quietly." Well Shannon this is a contact for exclusivity. So anything you write is published through our Publishing company. So any fan based Fiction, Lucas stories all of it Go through us. Do you understand that Shannon?" I nod in understanding. He continues, "I am going to pay you up front for the 3 stories you have now plus signing bonus. Although only 2 are guaranteed to hit book shelves very Quickly.

Also I am Also going out of my way and despite conflict of interest with Tom I going to take you on to navigate your public appearance as well. You will need that for book signing's and such. I will also make sure Lucas gets paid for all his pictures and any future picture's for your book's. Now one last thing that may help ease your mind a bit Shannon. Tom Has nothing to do with this contract or the merit of your stories. It was just a lucky shot for both of us that He was the one you ran into in the Airport and that he knew what Me and a few friends do in our spare time. Helping Storytellers get their stories read when no one else would is what we at Parsonage publishing are here to do most the commissions I'll receive for your book go to the Literacy foundation here in the U.K. Which is 5% but I also am taking10% for my Public work. But you won't even need to worry Shannon. I'm prepared to make you a very Popular and rich woman."

Honestly I am froze I did not think Lucas's and My stories would be this popular. Especially on there own merit. I'm speechless! Until Thomas starts shaking me to get my attention. I Turn, Tom point's to Luke. I turn and Luke asks? " Shannon Darling did you get all of it or do I need to repeat any of it?" I tell Luke as I take a look at the contraction front of me. Tom still holding my hand and I am thankful for the support. I got it surprisingly knew what the whole Author gig entails so to have Luke help me with both sides of that is a life saver, but I still have one or two questions.

" OK Luke ! I got most of it I am just got a couple questions? 1st Are you sure about the Public side I can find another if it helps your piece of mind. Also Are you sure my little stories are gonna get that popular and Last if so who has a pen. To my shock and tears. He answered all my question reassuring me of his sincerity and excitement .He also gave me a pen to sign my first almost million $Contract. I was so giddy . Luke asked for my main info like email ,cell, direct deposit > I just realized I'm not a disabled parent anymore. I am A writer/Author ,gainfully employed . I am crying Laughing and falling off my chair taking Tom with me.

While Luke gets me copy of my contract I had just signed . Tom Kisses my palm then he was kissing the my forehead. Then He shocks me by looking me straight in the eyes , Blue on Blue then asking out to Dinner tonight. WAS THIS A DATE!!!!!!????????????????

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insomniac-dot-ink · 4 years

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Breaking and Entering

Genre: ghost story, supernatural

Words: 3.9

Summary: two highschoolers break into an abandoned hospital to see ghosts and wonder the empty halls, but end up being caught by the police and perhaps something more.

It was the end of the school year and it was hotter than hormonal band kids at summer camp. You might as well prepare breakfast on the sidewalk and dunk yourself in ice water to get through the day.

The heat was one of the reasons I didn’t go to my graduation ceremony. My mom begged for me to show up because she was going through an “up” period and probably wanted something to show for her parenting. Like, “hey I screwed up my kid two ways to Sunday, but at least they graduated!”

I didn’t need to give her that kind of satisfaction. Sure, I graduated, but so did a bunch of other people. You didn’t need to throw a party about it.

I was at the old quarry instead and tossing tiny stones into it’s gaping mouth. Sarah Jane Johnson sat nearby with her short hair pulled back in tiny clips and sweating silently as she scrolled through her phone. She was a petite girl with a long black skirt, shredded white top, and hunking black shoes underneath.

I threw a rock at a particularly hard angle and watched it bounce off the wall with a clunk and dance down into the small pool of water below. I gave a small smirk and turned, “see that, Sarah Jane?” Sarah Jane was still going through her spotify looking for a playlist to put on and didn’t even look up. I rolled my eyes and picked up another rock to toss, “come on. I can show you how to do it.”

I flicked the stone with my wrist and listened to the hard knock of rock on rock and the soft thuds as it fell the rest of the way down.

Sarah Jane still didn’t look up.

I finally picked up a perfectly flat stone and went over to her, “don’t be like this.” I said with a huff.

Sarah Jane’s mouth became a hard line, “I’m just trying to choose the right mood music.” She said flatly, “you are graduated and junk. Maybe the Darth Vader death march?” I rubbed the back of my neck and bent over her, “what did I tell you before?” I huffed and stuck her with a hard look. “I’m not going anywhere. Not really.” Sarah Jane was a freshman that year and we had ended up bonding right away. There was always some gossip around seniors hanging out with freshmen, especially since we were both queer and dyed our hair black and didn’t exactly “get along” with authority figures, but none of the weird impliations were true. I had seen her on the first day and taken her under my wing as a baby punk and there wasn’t anything more to it. Which was all fine and good until it seemed to be coming to an end.

“You are.” She said softly. “You’re gonna find some job or some girl and then forget about me.” Her grip on the ipod was tight and bleaching, “I’ve seen it before.” “Ugh, that’s now how it is.” I scoffed and took a seat next to her, she turned away from me. I sighed, “Look, do you want to do the Mayfield hospital trip? Will that cheer you up?” Her eyes lit up and she twisted back toward me, “the hospital trip?” I had her attention and that made me smile, “yeah. Didn’t you say you wanted to try it out? Burn some candles, mess with some shit?”

Sarah Jane tilted her head to the side and sat up straight, “like, for real?” Her face fell a little bit, “didn’t you say that the hospital was for tourists and rubes?” She didn’t meet my eye as she asked.

“Nah,” I pushed on her shoulder gently. “I mean, with all the sightings in the place we’re bound to find something.” She gave a half-smile, “sure you aren’t scared?” I tossed my head back and laughed. “Of some spirit nurses and sick ghosts?” I snorted, “what kind of elder do you take me for? Now come on.” “Wait,” she flipped through the music. “This is the one.” She played a song from a new band called The Bad Sins about crushed butterflies and had a sick guitar riff in the middle. We nodded our heads along to the beat and watched as the sun crossed the sky with our mind’s elsewhere.

I taught Sarah Jane to toss stones all the way into the quarry’s opposite wall after that.

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There’s a couple rules to breaking and entering, one of the biggest ones is choosing the right time and place. Breaking and entering into a summer home in the middle of July when security is high and the place is flush with other vacationers? That’s a no-go. Breaking into a modest winter cabin in July is a better bet.

Always try the windows first to wiggle the glass free, but it’s even better if the place is easy access- that means public areas, construction sites, and abandoned places. The Mayfield old patient hospital was both a construction site and an abandoned building- a twofer and Sarah Jane had been talking about it furtively for months now.

She set out Tarot cards with a picture of it on the wall and mentioned the online stories such as sightings of a “Grey Lady,” a muttering nurse in all white, and small boy tossing a ball down a hall. It was your generic kind of haunting tales, but it was the most exciting occult location within driving distance.

Personally, I thought it was a little tacky, but I was graduating and my baby-punk was soundly frowning so I compromised. I drove with the sun gently glinting into my eyes and Sarah Jane bobbing her head along to some old Metallica.

We had a ouija board in the back, some incense, and an industrial thermometer that Sarah Jane nicked from the local Home Depot. The airconditioning blasted and we didn’t talk much since I could still feel her stewing over “being left behind” and it’s not like I could keep reassuring her.

The hospital was located off the highway in a wooded part of the city and with bright yellow construction tape surrounding the doors and outsides. I smiled as the large sycamore trees came into view and bright gasp of color approached.

“Ya ready?” I said and eased up toward the building off to the side, I didn’t plan to park us too close to it.

Sarah Jane glanced over to me with thick eyeliner and a thicker snort. “Don’t give me that look,” she said with a laugh, “you’re the one that should be ready! This is my terf.” “Ha,” I kicked the door open for effect. “Should I remind you of all the places I’ve gotten into before this? Follow my lead.” I could practically feel her rolling her eyes, “right, your cat burglar-ess. I’m coming.” She hurried after me as I surveyed the area. The sun had capsized past the horizon in a bloody death and the purpling sky was already popping out stars and a simmering hot summer night.

I was sure my mom had been calling me all day, but I didn’t really care. I had noticed Sarah Jane texting her folks on the way over, but it was probably more lies about studying at a friends place.

The second step to breaking and entering is surveyance: signs of recent footsteps or cameras or any kind of vehicle. There were some tire tracks of course, but I knew from some precursory googling that construction of the building had been postponed until funding confusion was cleared up.

The yellow lines were sagging and there was a lonely, desolate feel to the place. The hospital was dull white that almost broached into grey, it was four stories with multiple long empty windows on all sides. Some of the paint job had completely chipped away in places and left it bare and ugly dark brown. It was a boxy building with many turns and different bits sticking out and surrounded by dried grass and scraggly bushes.

I whistled lowly, “a looker.” Sarah Jane bounced on her heels. “Did you hear about the Silent Boy here?” She started chatting, she always was a chatter when happy. “He’s the one with the toy ball I was talking about. They say he was bed ridden here for almost his whole life with tuberculosis and could never get up and play-” “And now he wonders the earthly plane looking for people to play with.” I finished and Sarah Jane shot me a look.

“Yeah.” “Come on,” I waved, “let’s hang back.” Sarah Jane detailed different ghost sights of the hospital to me and I watched as all the stars erupting one by one from the nothingness and waited for it to be late enough. Finally, I waved us forward.

“Let’s do this ghost business,” I announced as we passed a “Wallis Construction” sign at the very front and crept to the front doors.

The door was jammed open with a big rock and I could already see the graffiti spray painted on the inside of the door. The peeled concrete wall had the regular phrases of WELCOME TO HELL and TURN BACK NOW.

It was the usual kind of fodder for other teens coming around these parts and I rolled my eyes at the sight. Several tags were on the walls as well for ‘BURNOUT KINGS’ and ‘CLOSED FIST GANG.’

The first hallway was dark and unlit and held all sorts of junk on the floors: there were bottles and plastic bags and piles of dead leaves. Sarah Jane followed close behind me. “We gotta go to the west wing,” she said quietly in the stillness of the dust and long shadows. “That’s where the children’s ward is.” That made me frown, but I shrugged and twisted around. “That should be west.” The only sounds were the thunk of our boots against the floor and the crickets chirping outside in the summer night. Sarah Jane was the first to speak again. She chuckled lowly, “this is so much different than our first time.” She said warmly. “Remember the big green house on Waterson?” I couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t remind me. It’s a gift I wasn’t eighteen yet and that couldn’t stay on my record.” I snorted. “You’ve still got two left feet.” We passed plastic water bottles and more scribbles on the wall, open doors revealing rooms with metal bed frames and plaster heaps in the corner. We passed an abandoned wheelchair at one point and that was probably the height of the scary business.

We even passed a hallway with some thick red X’s that the construction workers must have painted on the doors. Besides that it was just our steps and our voices and we started reminiscing.

We recounted our first concert together and the time I helped her get a septum piercing without parental approval and us standing up to my ex together and flicking through tinder on Sarah Jane’s phone just to laugh at it. We recounted the best music of the last year and the hollow place in my chest started to close.

I wasn’t leaving her behind, not really.

The crickets chirped even louder and I heard scuffling in one of the rooms which I assumed was maybe an animal or maybe branches scraping on the outside of the building. We stopped when we approached what must have once been an enormous mural.

“Stop!” Sarah Jane called at the top of her voice and looked left and right. “This is where we have to do the chant.”

I glanced at her and tried not to make a face. “Alright…” She gave a slim smile and took my hand with a squeeze, “Repeat after me: here we go round the mulberry bush-” “Seriously?” “It’s part of the ritual!” She snapped with a huff, “he reacts to playtime.” “It’s play time little ghost!” I called into the hallways and my voice echoed back and forth across the walls. “Haunted mulberry bush and all.” Sarah Jane let go of my hand and crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine.” She sniffed. “I’ll do it by myself.” She turned on her heels and started down the opposite hall toward the back of the building.

“Wait, wait, I get it, we’re trying to do this right.” I trailed after her and we argued for a few more feet.

“It’s obvious you think this is silly!”

“I just got here.” I tried to defend, “and I want it to be a good night, really.” She glanced over her shoulder with a stinging hot look in her eye, “because it’s our last one?” “No!” I said shrilly. “Jesus, Sarah Jane, I’m not even going to college.” She frowned slowly. “You will.” She stopped in place and looked at her shoes, “you’re smart and good at stuff and you gotta go.” “You sound like my adviser.” I said and tried to make it sound like a joke instead of resentful.

“You’ll see.” She kept stomping down the hall. “And you’re missing the point. You’re gonna go off and have a real life… and I’ll just be alone at school.” “Sarah Jane,” I said and put my hand in back pocket. “You’ll meet some cool people next year, it’ll be fine.” “Not it won’t!” She said shrilly. “You’re the only one who even noticed me this year and that’s only ‘cause I was wearing the right clothes.” “Oh, come on.” She sniffed loudly and looked back at me. “It sucks. It all sucks so much.” “Get a few more years on you,” I tried to smooth out the lines in her face. I hated having serious conversations like this. “Then tell me how much stuff sucks.” “Yeah, yeah, it only gets worse.” She smiled. “And then you’re a ghost.” “And then you’re a ghost.” I agreed and Sarah Jane exhaled and looked down the long hall with cobwebs on the ceiling and a couple fallen tiles in the center. “Come on,” I tugged on her sleeve. “Let’s do this cheesy nursery rhyme and visit a sick kid. That’ll help.” Sarah Jane sighed at me and turned, “no rolling your eyes through it. We want him to come.” I shook my head but took her hand, “here we go round the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush…” We did the silly rhyme together and then looked left and right. A soft wind cooed outside, but the night was thick and empty.

Sarah Jane snorted and put her hands on her hips. “Fine.” She said flatly. “That was a bust, let’s go chuck stuff outside!”

“Deal!” We went running down the hall with abandon and for a moment I thought things were back to normal. Then something caught my eye, “Shit!” I stopped in place and pointed at a light by the road. “Shit, shit. Cops!” A bright yellow light was outside the building with a bobbing movement. A couple murmurs let me know they were probably two young cops investigating a tip-off about teens breaking in. And they were coming closer.

I looked around quickly, “I can’t afford another charge on my record.”

Sarah Jane bounced in place. “My mom will kill me if she knows I’m still hanging out with you!” We ran in opposite directions, but I turned quickly on my heels and followed after Sarah Jane’s back toward the end of the ward.

“We need to get back to my car,” I said breathlessly and reached for Sarah Jane. “Turn, turn.” “There!” She pointed at a large door that was thick and metal and looked like it led to a stairwell. She yanked it open and went stomping for the steps.

I paused in place as I saw the light of the flashlight enter the building. “Hurry!” I said but I was the one that needed to hurry as the door slammed shut behind Sarah Jane and left me alone.

There was a moment, just a moment, but I swore I saw a small face in the darkness near the end of the hallway- smudged and smeared and most likely from the pump of fear in my veins.

I reached for the door and yanked it open and blindly ran down, down, down. The steps were concrete and my feet loudly slapped against them until I reached another heavy metal door at the bottom and tugged on it.

My arms strained against the weight of the thing and sweat poured down my brow in the humid stairwell. I had to strain to get a crack open and then slipped through with effort. The first story hall was different than the second.

The windows were farther apart and fewer between- making the scene dim and with only splotches of pure white light here and there. Instead of the doors being carelessly left ajar to reveal disjointed bed frames and wheelchairs they were all firmly closed. I noted that all of the painted white numbers on the doors were scratched off.

I turned left and right and realized I didn’t remember which way was the car, “Sarah Jane!” My voice hit each surface and seemed to amplify down the hall. “Sarah Jane Johnson!”

I twisted in place and almost fell over myself as I chose a random direction and walked.

I checked over my shoulder a few times for the flashlight, but it was only dull grey hallway behind me and moonlight catching the walls ahead. I must have walked for at least a couple minutes before I stopped and called again, “Sarah Jane! Come out.” Sweet was pouring down my back and I was starting to get angry. “I’m not playing around here!” I growled and balled my fists up, “we need to get out of here, now.”

I finally spotted a door ahead that was slightly ajar and hurried over to it, “I know you’re freaked out, but-” I pushed the door wider and the words died in my mouth. The next room was full. I had broken into several places before with abandoned stuff like plastic mannequins and weird animals and some old dolls stacked on top of each other. But nothing like what I saw in that room.

This room was completely filled top to bottom with pale blue hospital shoes. They were piled in the center of the room and looked old-fashioned and frayed. Many of them appeared to be tiny children’s shoes with holes in them and worn fabric. They stacked on top of each other as an ocean of discarded clothing and my stomach somehow lurched at the sight.

There were scorch marks and burns and little tears in each one it seemed.

I was gawking at the sea shoes when something flashed behind my shoulder, “Goddammit!” I cursed and glanced just in time to see a flashlight at the end of the hall.

“Sarah Ja-” I tried to call out but was interrupted.

“Here.” A hand grabbed mine from behind the door and we started to run. I kept my eyes over my shoulder as I squeezed Sarah Jane’s hand and we fled down into a darker portion of the building where maybe the cops wouldn’t find us.

I was breathing hard in the incredibly long hall and the flash light trailed after us slowly, but persistently. “I can’t,” I gasped for air, “let’s find a room to hide in.” I called ahead, but Sarah Jane didn’t slow down. My lungs were burning with a feverish fury in my very center and my body shook with it.

“Come on.” I let go of her hand and turned to the closest door. “I can’t keep running.” I grabbed for the nearest handle and twisted it open. I wish I hadn’t.

On the other side of the door was filled with piles and piles of what appeared to be human teeth. My eyes went huge and scanned the hills of white molars and sharp canines and various baby teeth scattered across the floors in heaps. They all appeared to be riddled with cavities, at least one or two little black spots on each tooth and all spotted with decay and blackness.

I took a step back as my legs grew weak. “It remembers.” A voice said from nearby and I wrapped myself in a hug. “Sarah Jane, that’s such a-a fucking weird thing to say.” I called softly and my voice was too loud and too strange in the empty dark hall. All of the windows had disappeared from view.

I stood stock-still as the flashlight flickered from behind me and a cold seeped through the air like a vent blasting chilled air from somewhere. It was then that I reflected on the fact that the cops had not yelled for us to stop or called out any warnings or commands. They hadn’t said anything at all.

It was just a light. Drawing closer.

I glanced at the fuzzy glow behind me and it was too pale, too white, not yellow enough to be a proper flashlight and my stomach dropped. There was something behind me and it wasn’t an officer.

I turned forward and scanned the way ahead. Why hadn’t I noticed sooner? I reflected, but everything seemed to freeze in place as I couldn’t see Sarah Jane ahead of me.

There was however, a solitary white hand sticking out of the darkness ahead. It was just a small hand and the outline of maybe something- just barely a thing at all behind it. And it wasn’t Sarah Jane Johnson.

I gulped. “Where is she?” I whispered. “What did you do to her?” The hand shook itself in midair insistently and the cold was crawling across my neck and seeping beneath my skin as the light bore down on us. The fingers wiggled and reached for me and I had a choice at that moment to take the hand or wait for the cold to consume me from all sides.

I could hear breathing at that point, heavy, wet breathing from behind the light.

I took the hand of the thing in the darkness and we started running again. We ran straight, ever forward and away. We shouldn’t have been able to run that much and should have had to turn at some point.

But we only tuned once and a second pale white hand reached for a door and heaved it open with great effort. The door lurched open with a screech and a puff of warm air blasted into my face and then I was falling out.

I toppled forward onto the yellowing grass outside and crawled away from the hospital as fast as I could. The door slammed behind me.

I climbed on top of a hill and looked back at the hospital. I was out and free of the sticky cold and terrible straight halls.

I turned back and stared at it. My eyes went wide in realization, and I had left her behind.

“Sarah Jane!” I called across the hill in a vain hope and I needed to go back into the hospital and find her. I needed to go back, but when I looked back to the building, a small stray pale light was hovering through the hallways. Searching and scanning and blinking.

And I knew it was still looking for me.

I turned like a fool and ran back to my car. When the search team came back the next morning there was no sign of Sarah Jane Johnson. It was nothing but heaps of plaster and stray wheel chairs and bed frames and bad graffiti. Sarah Jane was nowhere to be found.

There was no staircase with a heavy metal door and no hallway with no windows and doors with shoes.

And there was no one in that building at all.

#ghost story #supernatural #spooky #ghosts #writing #my work

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jessiewre · 4 years

Text

Day 52

Tues 25th Feb

#prawnsforBarry 🍤🍤🍤

We sat at breakfast excited to have our, sorry Phil’s, new mustard accompaniment. We even managed to convince Wendy the waitress to try it. She said she liked it, but it was hard to tell if she was just being polite or not!

As had become a daily occurrence, we began to discuss when we should leave Watamu and move on. When we would actually start travelling again. Whenever we had this conversation, we seemed to add on a day - and so far we’d done this at least 4 times. We had somehow ended up on holiday while on holiday.

With Phil’s run on the Sunday, we knew we had to move and agreed we should arrive in Moshi (Tanzania) by Friday at the latest. So when Philly Tours discovered there was a daily direct bus from Mombasa to Moshi, it was decided - we would go to Mombasa on the Weds to get the 7am bus the next day. Or the Thurs. Ok probably the Thursday.

Ok well with that plan in place, we went to see my little tailor mate to order more clothes didn’t we! They were so nice and cheap, it made sense to use this opportunity to replace the pair I lost while flailing about in the Nile. So Phil ordered an extra pair of shorts and I asked for two pairs, plus a pair of culottes style trousers. I personally wanted to get the same sizing Phil had for his birthday shorts, as they were soooo comfy, but Phil said they were a little too baggy and ill fitting. He had a point to be fair, so the man measured me up but I tried hard to make it clear that I didn’t want the clothes to be too tight and uncomfortable. Watch this space.

After that, we went to the pool and as we approached, I could see that Barry was lay on the far side. He had his shades on and hadn’t noticed us yet.

‘Barry’s over there Phil’ I whispered.

‘I know’ he said ‘But I can’t be arsed right now, I’ll chat with him later’.

But the attraction of Phil was too much for Barry and he could smell him for sure. Within 30 seconds, Barry was out of his lounger and on his way over. Oh we could see that he wasn’t happy from his walk. And he didn’t need to be asked why, so he saved us a job and launched right into it.

‘I was meant to go on that boat trip today weren’t I.’

We nodded along.

‘They pissed me off so I sacked it off’.

Oh shitt. There’d been some drama in Barrytown. Well we were in by this point, so we couldn’t help but dig for more. Not that we needed to ask, we would have definitely found out either way.

‘Oh dear, what happened??’

‘Well...’

Barry took a deep breath.

‘Some bloke met me at the front of the hotel, but there was no tuc tuc, so I said Where’s my tuc tuc? And he pointed to the beach and said Boat here. So we walked to the beach and there was no boat so I said Where’s the boat mate?? and THEN he pointed to the end of the bay. He was saying I had to walk to the other bay! So that pissed me off. That pissed me right off. I told him, I said, I don’t like walkin’. Ya know?So we eventually got to the other bay and there was a load of Italians sat about waiting for the boats and I’m looking at these boats thinkin’...I don’t fancy that. They were not even that big these boats and I thought Ya know what, I can’t be arsed with this. So I got up and walked back. Fuk it. Only lost $20, I don’t even care’

And that was Barry’s boat trip.

Being the great friend that he is, Phil got into the pool with angry Barry to cool him down and comfort him with kind words and a quick head rub.

Kiddddinnnnnnggg

They just chilled in the pool and actually had a lovely chat about food, Barry telling Phil about the food available at his local in Cyprus.

‘You’ve got your Pork chops, Lamb, Olive oil, Salt, pepper - its gotta be dun’ mate’

Yes Barry, quite.

Despite the inspiring meat chat, we had a cheap and simple VEGETARIAN lunch at our hotel consisting of rice, lentil Dahl, spinach and chapati and actually got ourselves organised enough to do an activity. Unheard of! I swear, the longer we had stayed in Watamu, the lazier we’d become, and an excursion out was a much needed rarity. We arrived to the Turtle Ocean Conservation and everywhere you looked were recycled items lovingly used to ingeniously build and decorate. The gardens were lined with glass bottles as flower bed edging and there were sculptures of animals & big displays made from plastic waste. It was one of those places that had a special feel about it, like it was made out of pure love and good vibes. Real wholesome like 🤓

Ruth, a passionate & knowledgeable environmentalist, showed us around the small centre and explained the many problems they (the turtles & sea life) were facing on a daily basis - pollution, lack of education, plastic waste, over-fishing, poaching - to name but a few. They had one resident turtle in at that moment. She’d been found in a fisherman’s net and was struggling with various health problems. They hoped to nurse her back to health and eventually release her back into the ocean. Luckily turtles never formed bonds or any attachement with their human carers, so once they were healthy, the release was easy - they swam straight off without looking back. It was even more important to get them better if they were a female turtle as they had the potential to reproduce. It could take months or even years before she was better - one turtle was in for 6 years before its release!

Female turtles can have over 2000 eggs in a lifetime, but due to all the obstacles they now face, it’s likely that only 1 or 2 of those eggs will go on to have their own eggs. People often think that turtles are doing really well as they see lots of pictures of them and they have so many eggs in their lives, but its a misconception. The population is rapidly decreasing.

We ended the tour passing past an entrance to a garden area and I asked Ruth if we could go in. She said yes, but she didn’t seem to think it was really worth a look. I don’t know why, as there were some amazing art sculptures in there. There was a huge jellyfish made from plastic bags and a massive turtle made of bottle tops, plus there was a sort of turtle graveyard with all the shells they’d collected from the poaching. The whole area was like a sort of secret garden, with winding paths and hidden corners and it was clear to me that this garden could be utilised and made more of a feature for the centre. It would be far more engaging by adding a challenge or treasure hunt type activity. I discussed it with Ruth and explained my idea, saying they could have a simple paper sheet with tasks & questions to answer. They could sell for like $1, and then kids could go round the garden finding the answers by using fact boards placed around the garden. SICK IDEA RIGHT!? Well she thought so too, and said she was definitely going to make it happen when the next volunteers arrived! WOOP WOOP 🙌. Shame we were leaving Watamu and couldn’t stay to help. I would have smashed that. I decided I’d drop her an email afterwards to check up on the idea and see if she needed any help with it. And get a cut of the profits obvs.

The whole centre runs purely from donations and running their tours, so if you would like to donate to help the turtles, every little helps. I will post a link up after this post.

Phil had already planned to use our trip out as an opportunity to do a run and so donned on all his gear and headed off while I waited for a tuc tuc. The driver and I then overtook Phil halfway back and even the driver said Phil was ‘very fast’. I smiled proudly and agreed with him. I waited for him to finish that sentence with. ‘...for a muzungu’ but he didn’t. Wow it was a proper compliment.

We went for another late afternoon dip in the sea accompanied by a beach bar beer, and Barry the stalker appeared in the bar next to ours - it was the same bar he went to every evening to be fair. A man of habit was our Barry.

No point sitting on different tables though Barry eh...so he followed his hearts desire and came over to sit with Phil. I was there obviously, but we all know by now Barry only has eyes for Phil.

‘Someone’s sat in my seat tonight’ he said, nodding towards ‘his’ bar as he arrived.

Nightmare. Barry had rocked up to his bar and someone had sat in his favourite seat. What an absolute joke.

Phil and Barry discussed many things, one being Barry’s marriage and subsequent divorce. Why didn’t it work out I wondered? No doubt there were various reasons, but maybe Barry going to the pub 3 or 4 nights a week didn’t help. Just a thought. But for Barry it was ‘necessary’ to have his pub time. Essential. I asked whether his wife (sorry, ex-wife) ever went out, or was she just at home with their child, while he was at the pub and he said ‘I gave her every opportunity to go out with her friends’. I choked on my drink laughing as it reminded me of something Phil says sarcastically on a regular basis - ‘Thank you for the opportunity Jess’.

But my favourite topic of the evening was Barry’s ‘banter’ chat.

‘Phil, do you have banter with your mates?’

He didn’t wait for a reply

‘Cos I do.’

I interjected at this point to mention that we both enjoyed dabbling in a spot of banter from time to time, but Barry was a mans man and I’m not sure he heard me. Boys will be boys right.

‘Me and my mates used to go to this one pub a couple of nights a week and bloody hell the banter was ‘ilarious. One time, my mate went to the loo and we barricaded the door. Completely blocked it, he couldn’t get out! Oh we had sucha laugh. Another time, this guy started a fight with my mate, over nuffing, and we all jumped on, then the barman - he was a big lad - he just picked the fella up and THREW him out the door! Honestly it was HILARIOUS. Oh ha and once, we got a painting that was on the wall, took it off, and we screwed it to the ceiling. Oh god, the landlord didn’t find it for weeks! Honestly Phil, so funny mate....’

Listening to Barry’s bountiful banter tales of mischief and man fun was thoroughly entertaining (gosh imagine the thrills of it. I can’t wait to get home and do the painting on the ceiling trick at my, sorry, Mum and Dads house) but I decided to leave them to it and walk up to my tailor bloke to collect the items before he closed.

My plan was to try the new items on and give feedback if necessary. But by the time I walked down the beach and then the pitch black beach road at high speed, I was sweating so profusely that I wasn’t thinking straight. I lost approximately 3 litres of sweat trying on the various shorts and trousers only to discover they were FAR too tight for me - but the boss guy wasn’t even there and I was SO hot that I just paid up and ran out of the shack. As I walked back along the beach, I already decided I would have to go back the next morning to get the trousers changed at the very least.

By the time I got back to the lads, Barry and Phil had settled in for the night and had even got themselves double stacked chairs to sit on for additional support (Barry was not a small chap). My plan to eat at a nice restaurant I’d spotted was rapidly fading away and in a desperate attempt to entice me to warm to the idea of a romantic meal for 3 on the beach, Phil announced he wanted prawns for dinner.

Now let me tell you - Phil has never, EVER, in his life ordered prawns. He has occasionally eaten prawns off my plate, and ONLY when I have thoroughly de-shelled and prepped them as though he was a baby (or Roy McCusker). So I could hardly say No could I, and to be honest, I was impressed by his boldness and also intrigued to see how the hell he was going to handle de-shelling prawns for the first time in his life. All with an audience (ok, just Barry). This was going to be a sight to see.

After we ordered the food though, Phil decided to announce he was going for a quick shower, so Barry and I finally got some time to ourselves. Great. It’s what we’d both been craving.

I stuck with what I know and chatted about different countries etc and ended up showing Barry some pictures of Mexico on my phone. Easy win. But suddenly a WhatsApp message popped up on the screen and it was a video of Phil singing as he got into the shower. I VERY quickly swiped it away and thought PHEW, I’ve just about got away with that one. I continued to show pictures of Mexican cenotes when another message appeared. This one was something like this

🤪🥰😍

Ok well this one was also cringe, so I quickly shifted the phone away to turn it onto airplane mode.

And thank god I did, as the next message Phil sent me popped up on the screen just as I moved it from Barry’s view:

#prawnsforBarry

Ok so at this point, I told Barry the phone was no longer working.

Phil returned (THANK GOD FOR THAT) wearing the newly altered mustard shirt, but Barry pointed that the pocket was still on the wonk. Dammit he was right as well. During the hour wait for these prawns, the topic I’d of how we met was bought up. I happily told Barry we met in a gay club and that we both had best friends who were gay. That’s right Barry. GAY. Oooh how was this going to go down I wondered...

We started off ok. Barry said he used to know a guy at work and he invited him to some of his dinner parties a few times. How nice of you Barry.

Lovely. But where’s the ‘but’...?

Ah ha, here it is

‘I don’t have a problem with it...’

Yes Barry, go on...

‘I don’t have a problem with it...but...’ (there it was) ‘...but when it comes up on TV and there’s two blokes kissing, I mean, ya know I don’t wana see that’. Barry pulled a face of disgust.

It was my turn to jump in

‘But I suppose two girls kissing is ok to see?’

Barry raised his eyebrows and avoided eye contact.

‘Well...you don’t see so much of that do you, its always blokes’

‘Apart from in porn right? Lots of men don’t mind gay kissing when its women doing it and its for their gratification. Kind of ironic really isn’t it!’ I said.

What I also wanted to say was:

I hate to break it to you Barry but you DO have a problem with it.

People are allowed to be uncomfortable with it, that is their right, but they need to understand that therefore they DO have a problem with it. And if that’s the case, then it would be better for everyone if those people kept their prejudice and judgement on the matter completely to themselves. It is homophobic to say ‘I don’t wana see that’ and talking like that is not helpful to anyone.

But what I actually explained to Barry was that of course he was not alone in his discomfort and many men and some women of his generation, and other generations too, would feel uncomfortable. This was likely due to the fact they had not been bought up to see gay culture and had been surrounded by homophobic language, media and culture in their life. If they were conscious and aware about why they felt the way they did, they might feel more comfortable with being uncomfortable.

I’m not sure how much of it he took in. Things went rapidly downhill after this when I mentioned the plastic straw issue to the waiter and Barry forgot he’d already told Phil about his Greta Thunberg joke meme (he definitely didn’t know it was a meme, but it was a meme). I managed to hear properly this time. Are you ready? Apologies in advance for this.

He described it as a picture of Greta Thunberg and at the top of it, it said ‘F**k the climate’ and at the bottom it said ‘I’ve discovered c**k’..

Not only was it a bizarre and offensive, it was not funny.

What IS funny is how a 70 year old man was so uncomfortable with two men kissing, but completely comfortable making a gross sexual joke about an autistic child.

Phil spoke up in response this time and said ‘Wow I mean, its pretty rude and its not really very funny. Anything she does for the climate is fantastic really’, while I said something like ‘Wow, isn’t she like 15 years old??’. To which Barry awkwardly said he thought she was 16. COOL WELL THAT MAKES IT OK THEN MATE.

So anyway - #prawnsforBarry - Phil somehow dealt with the prawns completely independent of my help which was actually unbelievable and I glowed with pride. The pace at which he was able to consume his dinner was far slower than he would have liked due to the amount of prep work required, but he got on with it like a trooper. His achievements of combating prawns alongside not being a sexist homophobe really shone that night and we went back to the hotel agreeing that we’d have dinner just us two the next day.

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corvega-assembly · 3 years

Text

Can’t See the Future

Summary: Nora switches pods at the last minute, not that anyone was informed. Rosalie isn’t sure what the hell she’s meant to do, but finding Shaun seems like a noble goal. Right up until the weight of the end of the world comes crashing down on her. She’ll need a little more to keep her going than avenging her sister's family and running head first into a half assed goal with no plan. At least Hancock’s got her back. Rating: Mature Pairings: Hancock X sosu (FOC) Warnings (for this chapter): canon typical violence, alluded to fictional racism

Chapter 13: When all is lost we find out what remains

The National Guard training yard is right across the way from the little farm. The family is still so pleased by Hancock and Rosalie taking care of the raiders that they make them breakfast. And when Hancock says he’s too hungover to go yet, lunch.

Rosalie debates calling him out on the lie, but he falls back asleep almost as quickly as he said it, so maybe he was tired too.

Rosalie is full, and rested for the first time in what feels like weeks, but her legs are still sore from overuse. Hancock complains about how bright the sun is and it makes her wonder about so many things…

“Why aren’t there more farms? There are a lot of raiders, and not really enough farms to keep them all fed if all they do is steal.” Hancock looks surprised and then he ponders a moment.

“Most settlers left, between The Institute swapping people out and generally being a pain in the ass and then the Minutemen folding, ain’t a lot of safe real estate for folks. Some turned to raiding, even the scavvers been awfully hostile lately. ‘S why everyone takes turns on the walls of Goodneighbor, too many people just want to oppress others, keeps everyone remembering they need their neighbor.” Hancock seems honest at least, even if Rosalie wonders if it's to keep the neighborhood safe or keep people dependent on him. “But there’s still pockets of people just trying to survive. That's why I came with you, try and do some good out here.”

There is a lot Rosalie could say to that, but settles for, “I just.. I just want to find Shaun, I’m not-”

“Hey, you’ve already done more than most. Helping Kent alone shows you're willing to get into the middle of shit and kick some ass. I respect that.” If Rosalie is slightly awestruck she can’t be blamed as they approach the training yard.

Hancock says they should circle around the outside before making their way inside, so they start towards the helipad.

As it turns out they never even have to go inside a single building, there in a crate, behind an all too easy security gate is a set of pristine, T-51 power armor. It even has a full fusion core. So Hancock follows along behind her as they make their way back to Goodneighbor. If anything was debating giving them shit, it decides against it.

KL-E-0 is eager to give Rosalie instructions on how to make the suit even beefier, but they quickly run into an issue that KL-E-0 can’t help with. Keeping it juiced. Fortunately Daisy says that given four days and a little mission run for her she could get enough Fusion Cores… if Rosalie is willing to pay.

So Rosalie parks the rig in KL-E-0’s shop, counts out her caps for what she hopes will be enough core’s to get her through The Glowing Sea. She braces herself for another Bobbi scenario, running all over Boston. Instead Daisy, sweet as could be, just asks for her to clear out the library of mutants and to drop her book back in a return.

Hancock looks at her with awe as she proceeds to spend an hour talking to Daisy about life pre-war, with a promise to not only return the book but try and check out some new ones for her. His expression doesn't fall, even as they head out into the ruins towards the library. Hancock follows this time, as Rosalie steers them through the street’s Nick had taught her to take.

--------------------------------------------------------

The super mutants are dug in deep at the library. Only one entrance is even an option to them and once they’re in, it reeks. Blood and sweat and piss. The smell is so strong it burns Rosalie’s eyes. Hancock doesn’t have the luxury of the squishy bit of her nose doing its job to dampen the smell. But he seems prepared for anything and everything, pulling a red, white, and blue bandana out and tying it around his face. He even pauses to offer her a red one that he has folded up inside a vest pocket, she takes his proffered gift and ties it on. It smells like him; Mentats and smoke, and under it all the smell of abraxo.

Once it’s on her face, Rosalie turns to give him a thumbs up and his face is set in a serious line. “Stay behind me, you look like a tasty snack.” To them or to him she wants to ask, and it's the dumbest thing she’s thought in at least a week so she falls into step behind him. Debating just sinking into the ground to join her family in embarrassment.

Hancock doesn’t seem to notice her awkward pause and instead is pointing and yelling for her to take out a turret. Which she does, but he’s already moved on to the super mutants, rolling under one and shooting it point blank in the chest. It goes down, screaming ‘stupid ghoul!’ at him. Hancock seems to be trying to control his shots, avoiding spraying the already picked over bookshelves in gore and buck shot.

Not that these books will ever get the smell out of them. But still, it’s sad when a super mutant knocks an entire shelf over trying to swing a sledgehammer at Hancock and missing by a mile. Books falling to the ground in thuds.

Super mutants are horrible awful things, and their hounds are just as bad. The noise they make is unnerving and when one bowls into her, knocking her over and standing on her chest, she is reminded of raw sewage as it opens its mouth to bite her. Luckily, or unluckily, several protectrons enter the fray, one blasting the hound on her chest, distracting it long enough for her to roll away from it. She gets under a table and shoots at its legs.

Rosalie loses sight of Hancock while crawling on the floor, firing at super mutants who pass by. But she can at least hear him yelling back at the mutants. So she keeps up the good fight, occasionally peeking her head out to fire at the seemingly endless horde of green enemies coming from the subway below.

“Super Mute Brute!” Hancock yells as he rolls in under the table she’s occupying, his side bumping hers as he’s wrestling with his gun. He’s pulling out a different ammo from his belt, glancing her way a moment, a grin on his face that spells trouble, “Having fun yet?”

Then as fast as he was with her, he’s gone and she can hear him get on top of the table. He is enjoying the fighting, enjoying the bloodshed and the… effort. Rosalie would much prefer to be reading these books than fighting among them.

Eventually, after what feels like a full week, the last mutant is dead. An intercom message plays and the protectrons switch back to being friendly. The marble floor is hard on Rosalie’s back and knees. She thinks she’ll bruise as she starts to crawl out of her hiding spot. Hancock is sitting on the marble railing, shaking a plastic bottle’s contents out into his hands when she finally stands up.

Rosalie bends backward to crack her back, and Hancock is staring her down when she straightens. His handful of pills forgotten. With the bandana around his face it’s hard to judge what he’s thinking. Although he’s clearly been caught, it doesn’t seem to bother him. He keeps staring at her as he pulls down the bandana, pops a mouthful of pills and pulls it back up.

Confusing man. She turns and walks to a book return. As she pulls the book from her bag, Hancock slides up behind her, watching. “Think the lollipop’s are still good? Oh shit they have pencil toppers, never mind.” For the return of one book, Rosalie nets two pencil toppers that look like hearts and are hard as rocks. Which is exactly as they were 200 years ago.

“You always so excited to get lame prizes?” Rosalie responds the only correct way for a 29 year old woman to do so, by pulling her bandana up and sticking her tongue out at him. He chuckles a bit and shakes his head.

Rosalie is trying to find at least a few books that are still worth grabbing for Daisy, and maybe herself, as Hancock goes through bodies. Eventually she’s almost used to the smell. In the end she has a Jane Austin and a ‘new’ release by J.I. Flintin. Something her mother would have loved to read.

On the way back to Goodneighbor Hancock tells her about the way ghouls are treated, often turning to books when no one else would speak with them, he’s flippant about about his own treatment however. “Never had that problem myself, heh.”

He sounds down on himself at times and then he’s singing his own praises. She wishes she knew if it was all bravado or if he’s got as much ego as he lets on.

Before they reach Goodnieghbor he stops her in the street with a hand, “Listen, ain’t saying you gotta or nothing, but the offer stands. If you wanna crash at the statehouse you can. Take my bed, I'll take the couch, it’s pretty full upstairs.”

“Or I take the couch and you take your bed. I was sleeping on a couch before the war.” She shrugs and smiles at him, honestly the offer is lovely because if she meets the man from Vault-Tec one more time she’ll scream. But he’s looking her over, pulling his bandana down and frowning. So maybe not a real offer then.

“Sister, going into a ghoul’s bedroom, even one as handsome as me, isn’t gonna win you any favors with some of the locals. And Goodneighbor loves to gossip. You take my bed behind a solid locked door, I bunk in the office, rumors fly that I’m sweet on ya. That’s fine. We close the door and doesn’t matter if we’re doing the deed or not, half the statehouse will have their ears against the door just hoping to hear anything.” Or maybe a real offer with added worry.

“I really am out of fucks to give about anyone's opinions of me. If you didn’t get that from The Shroud get up and shitty acting.” She frowns, for fucks sake a few months ago she was washing her mothers ass. The world had gone and ended and people are still concerned over who is sleeping with who.

Hancock gasps, big and dramatic, he’s got his big smile back, the one that reaches his eyes. “Shit you mean to tell me you’re The Shroud? You been holding out on me sister.” He bumps his hips into hers, “If you don’t care then fuck em, let em talk. It’s all some of them are good for.”

He holds the gate open for her, and follows her to Daisy’s. Daisy is pleased with the effort, even if she agrees with Hancock that Rosalie could have picked nearly anything else at the return. Rosalie is surprised, somehow, at Hancock dropping a small collection of bloody bits and parts he’s shoved into a backpack being placed on the counter. There are claws and bits of creatures Rosalie can’t even imagine in the bag, and Daisy buys the lot.

Hancock turns to her and says, “Mutes grab up all kinds of shit and stick em in those bags, sometimes you can get real lucky.” He’d put his hands in the gore bags and she can’t help but to gag. Both Daisy and Hancock laugh at her. Daisy asks if she wants a drink at The Third Rail, to which Rosalie says yes.

It feels normal, almost, if she turns her head and squints. She’d never gone out to drink with friends before, no time to do so. Rosalie opts for a Nuka instead of booze, which doesn’t bother Daisy one bit. Hancock is sipping some sort of beer that he says tastes like piss in the happiest voice. Rosalie gapes at him for a moment before Daisy tells her it all tastes bad. It’s the first moment she has had that hasn’t been focused on either survival or Shaun. Daisy leaves a few drinks in with a much younger, for her anyways, man, while Hancock hoots and hollers after her.

In the quiet, with Magnolia singing on stage, her thoughts twist and turn. Nora wouldn’t be sitting here, even as social and outgoing as she was, she’d be planning and plotting. Rosalie hasn’t spent time with children since she was one, she doesn’t even have a home to take Shaun too. So even if she manages to get The Institute to give Shaun back, she’s left with no real way to take care of him. Hancock must sense her thoughts darkening because he pays for their drinks, telling her, “Bedtime, sleeping beauty.”

In the end they’re in one room with Hancock on the couch(just for tonight) and Rosalie curled up with her new knitted blanket on the bed. She focuses on the sounds of people pressing against the door, and eventually, the sound of the watch talking amongst themselves just outside it. They really do gossip and it makes her smile. It’s easier to sleep when they’re are people around she realizes as she slips away.

Notes:

#FFfo #FFfo4 #FFcstf #sosu_rosalie

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raoulbathletics-blog · 6 years

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Rubbermaid Weights, Goku, and a 7 year-4 year Degree

I have always loved fitness; well I have always loved lifting weights. Fitness involves much more than lifting weights like running. I’ll be honest, I can not stand running, it sucks. I have a “rep the weights faster” as a cardiovascular ideology. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not hating on runners or endurance athletes. I actually envy y'all (I’m from the south, I say y'all, don't expect it to change). With that being said, yes I do admire your capacity for long duration cardio endurance but I also believe a “Man” shouldn’t weigh less than 185 pounds or be beardless. Thats another blog later on.

As long as I remember I was into pumping iron. When I was a kid I idolized figures such as Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sylvester Stallone, The Rock, The Incredible Hulk, and Goku. Yes, I know the last two or cartoon characters, but a lot can be learned from Goku’s dedication and commitment to training and nutrition. If you didn't get hyped AF and start beating the shit out of your bedroom walls when Kakarot went Super Saiyan you aren’t even human. I’m a nerd, so what, I can bench press a Fiat. Anyways back to my childhood and lifting weights. To this day I can still remember my first weight set. It was this tiny little bench with a “barbell” that was the diameter of a broomstick and the weights were these plastic case container like things that were filled with concrete or sand. Pretty much what I had was a weight set made by Rubbermaid. There was even a cap you could unscrew on each one where you could let a little sand out or add some. I loved that damn weight set, I thought it was awesome, but hey I was 9 years old and I was about to be like Arnold (growing up all my friends wanted to “Be like Mike”, I wanted to be the Terminator). Something about lifting weights and growing muscle has always intrigued me. I believe my Dad had a part in my fascination with working out. My dad has always been built, maybe not as aesthetic or as big as my celebrity and cartoon idols but compared to my friend’s fathers and anyone that I personally known my dad was, still is, swole. My dad was the one to show me what a bench press, bicep curl, and lat pull down were. Let’s just say he paved the way for me. Now my father showed me the in and outs of the weight room, but my perception of pure brute strength came from my mother and the rest of the Boughtons. Those Boughtons let me tell ya. Have you heard of the term “Construction Strong”? Well if you looked up that term in the dictionary, there would be a picture of the Boughton Family. Now I have never seen my uncle touch a dumbbell but he could pick up an 80 pound sack of concrete in each hand and scale a ladder at the same time, the crazy thing is my mom would be right behind him with another sack a concrete. You’d think we were a family of vikings, if it weren't for most of us being vertically challenged and that one tan skinned kid aka me. The Boughtons are just a solid group of individuals with a tenacity for work, not desk jockeying work, but physical manual labor in the elements of nature type of work. To this day, my 72 year old grandmother still mows 1 acre of grass with a push mower. The damn thing isn't even self propelled. That’s what I call Functional Fitness; yeah cool “Fran” time bro but can you mix concrete with a shovel and wheel barrow, frame a house or build an award winning Mardi Gras float in less than a week. I think not. Again being able to lift weights and not call a “professional” to change your light bulb is another blog topic for a later date. I owe a lot to my family and my upbringing for my love of working out. The patriarch of the Boughtons, my grandfather, is who I received my first protein shake. Now I’m not talking about the delicious whey protein shake you and I are accustomed to today. I’m talking old school; glass of whole milk, 4 raw eggs, and a tsp of vanilla extract-protein shake (needless to say this was my first and last “old school” protein shake).

I was 15 when Hurricane Katrina hit the Mississippi Gulf Coast (if you are not familiar with this area, the location I am talking about is “The Landmass” between New Orleans and Alabama). Everything was destroyed and we didn't have school for months, so there wasn't anything to do besides to either work out and/or make a little pocket change gutting houses and cleaning debris. Let me tell you, tearing down soaking wet, moldy drywall got old quick. There was a few of us that really got into working out at this time; one of which really got into it, stuck with it and he now has his IFBB Pro Card. Ready for this, the dude is a VEGAN... Which is not totally unheard of these days. To compete in the world of bodybuilding it’s 90 percent diet, I don’t care what you say, it is. So when your food intake is all veggies and you are committed to pumping iron, yeah you are going to be shredded.

So we all hit the weights pretty hard from sophomore to senior year of high school. You know you're doing something right when your classmates all claim that you're on roids. “Nah’ bruh, blame it on genetics, two a days at the gym, copious amounts of grilled chicken breast and the occasional case of Keystone Light. (what, I was carb loading). I played football in high school a couple of times but I kept getting injured in the weight room due to poor programming and improper coaching on weightlifting technique from my “all knowledgeable coaches”. I got stronger outside of the football weight room by going to other gyms and doing research on my own. This is one of the reasons I later finally chose a career path that I’m in now.

Then came college. I know you’ve heard of “Gaining that Freshman 50″. Well I took it up a notch and gained a whopping 70 pounds after high school. I was what you called a career student. I took advantage of everything college had to offer, except the academic part. I didn't hit the books hard until my 3rd freshman year and finally chose a major and stuck with it. Prior to this I hopped around from engineering, only because my friend was doing it (the same one that is a vegan body builder but I quickly realized that my math capacity was limited to counting by 45′s) to pre law (but at this time I turned 21 and there was no need to use my fake ID anymore), to finally figuring why don't I do something relevant to what I love, Working out. At this point I was 4 years into a relationship with my now wife and most of her family are educators and coaches. I stated earlier how often got hurt often in the high school weight room and I wasn’t the only one. I also had only like 2 influential teachers in my high school career, (thank you Sheila and Monty G). So I decided to go into coaching with an emphasis on strength and conditioning with a minor and history. For people that don't know, if you plan to coach a high school team you'll have to teach a class too. So I chose another topic that I really like, History, (there’s no way in hell I’m teaching math unless its only kilo to pound conversions or counting plates on a barbell). I felt like I needed to be in the classroom and in the weight room to positively motivate and inspire kids. After a 7 year stint in college and over $40k in student loans, I finally received that 4 year degree everyone rant and raves about. Another blog for another time.

With that being said, I fuel planes to pay the bills. Remember how I said my now In Laws are teachers. Well they also tell me stories of the job. It’s not the kids that have deterred me from the job, it’s the parents. I honestly don’t wont to deal with y'all all knowing, ignorant, neglectful, pig headed, selfish A-Holes. Now I know not all of you parents are like this but there’s a select few that I really don't have the time or patience for. I give props and thanks to all teachers out there. You are a group of people that are underpaid and under appreciated for what y'all do and put up with.

After 4 years and counting in the aviation industry, mortgage doesn't pay itself, I finally had the opportunity to live the American Dream. I am now an entrepreneur that owns his own business, Rah’s Gym in Bay St. Louis, Ms. I could have easily pursued my dream in an easier way and be a personal trainer at someone else’s gym. Do you see the problem with that last sentence? I’ll break it down for you. In order to truly succeed the route should never be easy. I think there’s a difference between being a personal trainer and strength coach. Lastly, being at “someone’s else’s gym” didn’t sit well with me. Especially since there weren’t any “gym’s” near me. Yes, there were health clubs, and fitness centers, and judgement free zones with pizza parties, but there were no gyms. So with the determination to finally get my Freshman 70 off, oh yeah it’s still there, and an increased limit on my card I opened my own gym. A real gym. I have no air conditioning, no smith machines, and a bunch of free weights. When people ask where my cardio section is, I simply point to the one elliptical and to the road on side of the gym and say “There’s no better cardio than feet to pavement.”

Rah’s Gym has been open for 8 month’s now and business is good for being the niche, non commercial, mainstream gym that it is. I’ve learned a lot so far; not just about running a business but about the field that I love. You know there’s so much more to working out besides heavy singles and curls for the girls. I know right, who would have thought. I house all types of athletes at the gym; Functional Fitters, aka crossfitters that don't like to be sued, Body Builders, Power lifters, Mixed Martial Artists, and even Triathletes.

It’s an exciting time to be in the fitness industry. People are finally giving a shit about their health and quality of life, and I want to be a part of it. I plan on losing my Freshman 70, are you.

Lift heavy, run efficiently, and rest often.

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