Working on updating my wordpress account so I can get all the Dogbane Hollow stuff set up, and I happened to come across this.
Reblogging because it’s probably one of my better efforts, and I kind of like it now.
“Please stay…” for jaydesims
He’d searched through half of Strangetown by the time he found her.
He’d called her cellphone, her home phone, her Dream Phone and her banana phone (or, he would have, if she’d had one, and it’s the thought that counts).
He’d gone by her apartment, Ripp’s apartment, the pool, and even her aunt’s house, to no avail.
Finally, just outside of the forbidding stone walls of Olive Specter’s house, he’d turned a corner and stepped onto the parched cemetery sands and there among the rocks and stones and wilting flowers, he’d found her.
And as he’d stood there at the edge of the garden of stone and bone, he’d remembered.
Immediately, a terrible guilty feeling began to spread through him. All sense of urgency abandoned him, leaving him there in a tangle of remorse and echoing sadness. He felt like an intruder, like he’d visited some ghastly violation upon her by even being there.
Mentally, he ran through a list of desperate apologies and silent pleas for forgiveness, as he turned as quietly as possible and tried to leave without disturbing her.
How could he have forgotten what day it was?
The one day she’d needed to be alone, and he’d torn the town apart, looking for her.
He felt ashamed.
He turned to face her, slowly, rigidly. He knew she wouldn’t be angry with him, but he was mad enough at himself for the both of them.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking.”
She was smiling.
“It’s just – it can wait, obviously. I’m just gonna go –”
“Johnny,” she said, again. She was smiling. “Please stay.”
“It’s a special day, Johnny,” she said, still smiling. Her eyes were just beginning to glisten. “We should celebrate it together.”
Nodding, he took her hand and sat beside her in the dirt. He read the day’s date across the tombstone. He realized he was smiling.
“Happy birthday, Mrs. Nigmos. It’s an honor to finally meet you.”
For jaydesims, who requested Johnny/Ophelia fluff. It’s maybe not as light-hearted as it could have been, but I hope you like it. ❤
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to say…” for vyrantiumcircle
“So, then, Nylissit was all, ‘I wouldn’t be caught dead at your stupid little party,’ and I was like, ‘Nylissit, who even invited you?’ and then she was all…”
Lyla drifted in and out of the conversation, lulled by the comfortable patter of Rainelle’s voice as she recounted every minute detail of her confrontation with Pleasantview High’s self-appointed Queen Bee, Nylissit Tricou.
“And then, I said, ‘but isn’t your family a bunch of vampires, anyway?’ and she completely flipped out on me, and I was like, ‘well, excuse the hell out of me, I just figured since you all suck so much…”
Lyla smiled, only vaguely keeping up with the story’s progression. Rainelle would happily revisit it again throughout the day, so she wasn’t particularly worried about getting all the details at the moment. For the time being, she just wanted to focus on the perfect combination of warm weather and the warm feeling in the center of her chest.
“And that’s why Nylissit and I aren’t exactly welcome at Fresh Rush, anymore,” Rainelle announced, apparently not at all bothered by the fact that she’d gotten herself banned from a grocery store, of all places. “Which means we’re going to have to go all the way down to Here or Else in Bluewater to get party stuffs.”
“Wait – what? You actually have to leave town to buy groceries?” Suddenly, she wished she’d been paying more attention. Now she’d have to wait for the second showing to find out what Rainelle and Nylissit had done to get themselves banned from Fresh Rush.
“No, we have to leave town. You’re coming with me,” Rainelle replied, linking her arm with Lyla’s. Lyla focused on her brightly colored toes as they carried her down the street, hoping Rainelle would stay Rainelle and continue to prattle on without noticing that Lyla’s face was working its way through every shade of red in existence. “But it’s fine, my mom was going to go shopping today, anyhow. We’ll just bum a ride off of her.” And just like that, the entire problem was solved. Lyla couldn’t help but admire her friend’s resilience; she couldn’t begin to imagine having to explain something of that nature to her parents. Forget leaving town to buy food – she’d have to leave town to find a new family.
From there, Rainelle began to outline a rough estimate of supplies they’d need to procure on their outing, strolling along the narrow sidewalk, arm-in-arm, as if though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Lyla was just beginning to relax when, quite unexpectedly, Rainelle stopped and spun Lyla around to face her.
“Hey, what’s wrong with your face?”
Lyla’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean, ‘what’s wrong with my face’?!”
Rainelle laughed and held up her hands. “Not like that! It’s just all… pink looking.”
Pink looking?! I’ll give you “pink looking”!
“Well,” Lyla said slowly, suddenly feeling unnaturally brazen, perhaps even a little drunk on the sun and the stillness of the afternoon and the way her skin still tingled where Rainelle had pressed against it as if though it belonged to her. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to say…”
“To me?” Rainelle prompted. Lyla nodded. “Is this about me putting all my stuff in your locker? Because I know I said I’d –”
Lyla shook her head. “Well, it’d be nice to have somewhere to put my own books every once in a while, but no, that’s not it.”
“What is it then?”
Lyla smiled radiantly as she delivered the crushing blow. “It’s a secret.”
“Oh, come on, Lyla,” Rainelle whined. “We’ve been best friends since we were fetal. You shouldn’t even try to keep secrets around me. There’s laws against that! I remember, because I made them.”
“Back when we were in elementary school.”
“You don’t outgrow the law, Lyla.”
Lyla rolled her eyes. “Oh, all right. I’ll tell you. But, um, see, you gotta catch me first.”
“Hey!” Rainelle cried, her unusually wide blue eyes widening to almost cartoonish proportions. “No fair, Vandermorgan! You know I can’t run in these shoes!”
“Fine!” Lyla called back over her shoulder. “More secrets for me!”
Of course, she knew she’d have to answer for her treacherous behavior at some point; she was staying the night at the Neengia’s, after all.
But Rainelle was going to have to tickle it out of her, first.
I have never written anything like this before in my life. I will pray that you like it.
x-posted from tinylies.org
I think I’ve finished the actual writing part for “Pain”. It’s only supposed to be a short response to a writing prompt, so I didn’t really go into detail or spend a lot of time on world-building, but I’d like to eventually revisit it sometime in the future. Motivation is always such a problem for me, though.
Take, for example, this post. I should be taking pictures right now to finish the whole damn thing off, and instead, I’m dilly-dallying about on wordpress, talking about what needs to be done as I actively avoid doing it.
Anyway, American Horror Story the other night was pretty decent. Gonna need significantly more Dandy and Gloria, and if I could get a scene of Dot impaled on a stick that is later revealed to be Maggie’s perforated corpse, I would be ever so grateful.
The house they arrived at seemed to be feigning abandonment. The yard was unused and phantom quiet, as still as a cemetery; the exterior was freshly painted and the front porch glowed in the eerie light provided by a small lamp outside of the windowless door. And yet there remained an uneasy suggestion of hollowness, as if though, despite the house’s tidy outward appearance, inside it would offer nothing but empty rooms and dusty sadness.
“Who lives here?” Bella asked, rubbing nervously at her bare arms.
“The Grunt family,” Olive responded, nodding at a dimly lit window where a blonde woman drifted past like a wraith. “The youngest son is terminal.”
Bella shivered, thinking of her own young son and praying that she’d never be called to her own front door on such an unhappy mission. “Can we save him?”
“No,” Olive said, softly. “That is not our place. But we can unburden him.”
For a long, tortured moment, they lingered on the cement path, side-by-side as they prepared themselves for the task before them.
Finally, Bella looked to Olive, and her eyes were burning from the inside out. “I don’t like pain.”
“No,” Olive shook her head. “But who does?”
x-posted from tinylies.org
Excerpt from “Pain”:
“Put your hands on him. One on his face – anywhere on his face, that’s fine – and one on his heart.”
Bella did as she was instructed, gently placing one hand directly in the middle of the boy’s sweat-slicked face and the other on his desperate, rabbit heart.
She looked helplessly at Olive, unsure what to do next.
“Concentrate,” Olive said, lowering herself onto a chair across from the bed. “Think of the Pain gathering inside of him, under your hands. Concentrate on absorbing it.”
She imagined the Pain, hot white with rotten, purple-black veins, pooling beneath the skin where her hands rested.
It filled her hands. Hot, burning hot. It spread up into her arms, travelling fast, expanding in her chest like a balloon filled with razors and broken glass. Overfilling, ready to burst. .
It hurt like hell.
She wasn’t like this when they found her. No matter what they try to tell you, she wasn’t like this when she came here.
She was normal, then. Afraid, and confused, and angry. She’d thrown herself against the gate and sworn to punish them. She’d reached beneath the barrier, touched my hands and promised to save me.
She wasn’t like this, then. A soundless, crawling thing that tore flesh into ragged strips with her teeth, that chewed on bones and licked blood from the floor.
They did this to her.
Warning: There is going to be a sudden influx of sim stories over the next couple of days. I began taking story prompts over at tumblr and now I want to collect them over here for the sake of convenience/because this was supposed to be my writing blog. Flee in droves, or don’t.
Originally posted at my tumblr. Pictures are a little sparse because I was posting directly to tumblr, which has a picture limit of 10. Naturally, I realized belatedly that it would make much more sense to post to livejournal and link back. Of course, livejournal then began acting obnoxious, so I guess I’ll just post things wherever accessible until I finally succumb to the urge to buy another domain.
The screaming had stopped a while ago, but her head still aches with it, her thoughts swollen and bruised.