Friday, August 21, 2009

*_* Star struck and gunshots

VIOLA!!!!!



“There a reason you don’t want me to meet ‘Mercy’?” I asked.
“Andy Mercy is a rookie, Ms. Clare,” Jack said, looking forward. “He wouldn’t know the first thing about protecting anybody.”
“Ain’t you a nice fella,” I said sarcastically.
“Ain’t I, though?” he laughed. “Where do you two live?”
“Just down the street,” I said, leading the way with Allan. I got to the dark apartment building and took out my key. “This is it,” I said. “Home sweet home.” I lead him up the stairs, opened the door, and turned on the lights.
“Get down!” Jack roared, shoving Allan and me down on the floor. I heard gunshots and then more as Jack returned fire.

Suddenly there was silence.
“Is everyone okay?” Jack asked, his voice breaking unevenly.
“Yeah, I think so,” I said. “Allan?”
“Here, mum,” I heard him call. I sighed deeply.
“Thank God,” I whispered. Tears came into my eyes. “Oh thank God.” Allan crawled into my arms in an array of glass.
“Thank God, mum,” he said innocently. “He always protects us.”
“He has a pretty good idea of protection,” Jack said sarcastically.
“Excuse me,” I said. “A little less negativity.”
“Sorry,” Jack said. I could tell he didn’t mean it.
“C’mon, Allan, let’s get you to bed,” I said, taking his hand.
“Ms. Clare, there’s no way you’re staying here tonight,” Jack said seriously. “I’m calling Chief.” I shrugged my shoulders.
“Allan, let’s go get packed,” I said. Allan and I walked to the dresser and began packing our few possessions into suitcases. I helped Allan into his pajamas. I picked him up and he fell asleep with his head on my shoulder.

Jack hung the telephone up and turned to me.
“Chief says we have to find you somewhere else to stay,” Jack said.
“I have a feeling you know where,” I said, shifting Allan’s weight.
“Yeah,” he said, picking up our bags. “Mercy’s got a car waiting.” We snuck downstairs and jumped into the back seat of Mercy’s car. Mercy turned from the driver’s seat.
“Hey there, I’m Andy Mercy,” he said. “Just call me Andy.”
“I’m Kristy Clare, Andy,” I replied, quickly shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Pedal to the metal, Mercy,” Jack said roughly. “We’re not being followed just yet.”
“Yes, sir,” Andy said. Allan woke up half way through the journey, but I lulled him back to sleep.

“Mum?” Jack asked, walking into the big house. He lived in the middle of the country, too; or at least his mum did. “Mum?” he called again.
“I’m coming,” she said. She came out of the kitchen in a bathrobe. “Chief called earlier to explain the situation. Hey there, Andy! And you must be Ms. Clare!”
“Just Kristy,” I said quietly. “This is Allan.”
“I’m Emilia Wilson. He’s adorable,” she smiled. “I’ll take you to your rooms.” She took us to a small child’s room. “Here’s where Allan’ll sleep.”
“Excuse me, I’m so sorry, but do you mind if Allan sleeps with me? I’d feel safer if he did for now,” I said. I wasn’t all that willing to let him go when there were killers after us.
“Oh, sure. Less sheets to wash,” she said. She lead us to another big room. “Here you go. G’night, Ms. Clare.”
“Kristy, please,” I smiled.
“Good night, Kristy,” she replied. “Sleep well, both of you."


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Wednesday, August 19, 2009

>_< Impatience

Allan and I took the bus back to Alice’s house. The police swamped Alice’s porch, house, and yard. But they also created a block around a car, which left soon after we came.
“Hello, Ms. Clare,” a uniformed officer said, putting his hand out. “I’m Chief Cratt. We found the guy who did this to Mrs. Brown, he’s in custody. The only problem is that we need someone to testify that he was there.”
“I’ll testify,” I said.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Don’t ask me again, sir,” I touched his shoulder. “If I said I’d do it, I’ll do it.”
“You’ll need protection,” he said.
“I’ll take whatever protection precautions you deem necessary,” I said.
“Okay, you wait over there and I’ll send an officer over,” he said pointing. “You’re aware that you’ll be having an officer in your house from this day till a month after you testify.”
“I have a couch,” I laughed. “Chief, don’t worry about it.”

I watched the Chief walk to various officers and whisper in their ears. Each of them shook their head or just said no. Finally, one of them shrugged his shoulders and started walking over to me.
“Hello, Ms. Clare,” the man said, looking at me with genteel grey eyes. “I’m the policeman who will be protecting you while you’re testifying.”
“I don’t need protecting, Detective,” I said stubbornly. “My son does, but I don’t.”
“Well, then I’m protecting him,” he said, shrugging his shoulders again. “By the way, I’m Detective Jack Stork, Ms. Clare.”
“Kristy Clare,” I said, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you, Detective. My son’s over there – his name’s Allan; adores policemen, firemen, any kind of public service man, really. You’ll be getting a lot of attention from him, Detective Stork.”
“It will be a pleasure to find someone who like us law enforcement,” Detective Jack said, smiling at me. “And you don’t have to call me Detective Stork. Just call me Jack.” He wasn’t exactly handsome, but he had a nice face; pretty grey eyes; a pretty bashed up nose and all the regular features a young cop seem to have. He wasn’t fat, but he wasn’t a stick either. Seemed like he just had a muscle build.
“Okay then, Jack,” I said. I watched him go over to Allan. He seemed really familiar.

“Hello, sir,” Allan said, looking quite sad.
“Hey there,” Jack replied. “I’m Detective Stork – you can call me Jack though.”
“Does anyone else call you Jack?” Allan asked, only half-curious.
“Naw, not really,” he said. “But you can be a first. What’s your name?”
“Name’s Allan Joshua Clare,” Allan said.
“Well it’s nice to meet you, Allan Joshua Clare,” Jack said, shaking hands with my son. “I’m the policeman protecting you and your mom.”
“Oh,” Allan said. There was a silence and for a second I didn’t want them to talk.
“You know, Allan,” Jack said, taking a sigh and leaning on Alice’s porch steps. “You know, I grew up in the slums. I was dumped in St. Mary’s orphanage.”
“Really?” Allan said. He wasn’t interested at he normally was, but he was listening.
“Yeah, I got adopted by these two old people. They raised me and loved me,” he explained. “My adopted dad was a cop, so I always wanted to be one too.”
“Uh huh,” Allan said. “Mum grew up in St. Mary’s orphanage, Jack.”
“Oh really?” he said looking at me. I don’t know why, but I blushed.
“Yeah, really; thought you were familiar,” I replied. “Allan, you ready to go home?”
“Yeah, mum,” he said. We both stood up, preparing ourselves for a tedious trek home. We grabbed each other’s hands and started out of Alice’s alley way.
“Excuse me, Ms. Clare? You too, Jack,” the police chief said. Jack and I came to stand by the chief. “Ms. Clare, you know you are a witness that needs protecting. And Jack here is the guy protectin’ you right?”
“Right, chief, but my son’s the one who needs protecting, not me,” I said.
“Why’s that?” Chief asked.
“They’ll use my son to get to me, Chief. They won’t touch me,” I said quietly.
“I hope you’ve gotta couch in your living room, because Jack’s not going anywhere till you and your son are safe, Ms. Clare,” he said.
“Now wait a second, Chief,” Jack said. “I don’t want to intrude on Ms. Clare and I don’t have so much as a toothbrush packed!”
“Ms. Clare?” the Chief asked. “It’s up to you, but you need protecting.”
“It’s alright with me; I have toothbrushes at my house,” I said. There wasn’t a whole lot I could do about it now. I had to stay alive to raise Allan. “But if Jack here needs to get his stuff, then I guess you could send another officer with us.”
“Naw,” Jack said. “I’ll give Mercy the key and tell him what to get and where to get it in my apartment, Chief.”
“Okay, it’s settled then,” Chief said. “Bye, Ms. Clare, Allan, Jack.”
“Bye, Chief,” Allan said. Jack and I nodded.

NOW I bet that none of you whooped when the genteel officer with grey eyes came unto this virtual page. :(
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Wednesday, August 12, 2009

More of Kristy's Story (PLEASE i need name help!)

After Alice has settled Allan in the kitchen with some cookies, she brought some cookies and coffee out for us on the porch. Alice put a plate down on the table and sat down next to me in her rocker.
“Look, I just got…,” she said, handing me a camera.
“Excuse me, miss,” a hobo said to Alice. “D’ya have a moment? I’d be much obliged.”
“Sure,” Alice said, wiping her hands on her apron and standing up.
“Alice…,” I said.
“No, it’s alright, Kristy,” Alice said. “I live to help the people.” She winked. “C’mon after him if I don’t come back.”

I waited… and waited… and waited… and, when I finally had enough, I got up and went into the back alley. Alice was laying there on her back. And there was this guy, with a long white scar on his neck, running backwards.
“Alice, Alice, stay with me,” I said, gently patting her hand. “C’mon, Alice.”
“What?” she asked groggily. “Kristy, what happened?”
“I don’t know, Alice, give me a minute,” I said. “Allan?” I called. “Allan!”
“Yeah, I mean yes, mum,” Allan responded from the porch. “What’cha need?”
“Okay, Allan, I need you to go call on Doctor Farrow,” I said. “Alice’s hurt. I need you to go. Tell him to bring tons of bandages – and that we might need to go to the hospital.”
“Okay, mum,” Allan said.
“Run, Allan, run!” I yelled.
“Okay, mum,” he repeated. I heard his footsteps along the street and prayed that he would get there and back safely.

“Kristy?” Doctor Farrow called. I sighed. He had delivered Allan – and was Allan’s uncle, whether he knew it or not – I trusted him a lot. “Kristy, what happened? Where’s Alice?” He saw Alice on the floor next to me. “Oh, God. I can’t treat this, we need to take her to the hospital. Help me carry her, will you, Kristy?”
“Allan, sit in front and wait for us,” I said, while lifting Alice up and maneuvering her into Doctor Farrow’s car.
“She’s been stabbed at least twice,” he said, closing the door. “I don’t know if she’ll make it.” The car’s engine turned over and then called itself to life. Doctor Farrow sped through the streets to the hospital. He ran into the hospital and came out with a team of doctors and nurses who took Alice away.
“Wait, what’s happening?” I asked. “What’s happening? Please tell me!” I begged the nurses. No answer. Doctor Farrow finally came out of one of the sections of the hospital labeled no entrance, doctors only.
“Dr. Farrow,” I said, standing in his way. “Tell me what’s up with Alice.”
“I don’t know, Kristy, I don’t know,” he replied running a hand through his grey hair. “It doesn’t look good, but the doctors are trying to pull Ms. Brown back together again. In the meantime, why don’t you go back to the house, the police have to ask you some questions.”
“Okay,” I said quietly. “Okay…”


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commentos, darlings!

Asiat

Monday, August 3, 2009

Post On Men (and other thoughts)

okay, so maybe not completely about men. But, truly, what makes Mr. Darcy so much more alluring than some hen-pecked idiot? (other than the whole hen-pecked idiot, I suppose) My hen-pecked idiot example: Detective Jack Stork (from Kristy's Story [prohibition])

Fitzwilliam Darcy *pros*
1. Handsome
2. Arrogant?
3. Willingness to admit faults (when not too arrogant)
4. He's in a classic novel known as one of the greatest romance novels of all time.

Jack Stork *pros*
1. Handsome with not too many imperfections
2. Hen-pecked-ness
3. Humbleness with a touch of old-fashioned dignity
4. He loves his mum (and where's cool spats)

Darcy *cons*
1. Arrogance
2. He's like two hundred years old
3. We know his every fault and mishap
4. He's English (Yes, that's not always a good thing)

Stork *cons*
1. He's not THAT handsome
2. His love for his mun makes him a moma's-boy
3. He's a cop - which puts him in dangerous situations
4. He lives in a time period where alcohol isn't permitted (which is SO terrible)

Any more? COMMENTO

(AND NO, it's wasn't a collaborative effort, the last blog post. B and Antony kind of appeared whilst my publishing it, so I added them into the big ole' cauldron)

I'd rather do a job I liked and not be good at it than do a job I hated well. - Unkown

Asiat

PS: Vortican, when are we jumping ship for the Ren Fest? ECPM want's to come!

Saturday, August 1, 2009

lol. (she's going to be killed for inconsistency)

Once upon a time, in the city of Pittsburgh, a writer got really sick of characters she knew through and through. So what did she do? She started a new book. So far, it's unnamed. Setting: the Prohibition...

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Allan put a warm, sticky hand in mine. He rubbed his eyes and stretched, climbing out of bed. He looked up at me and grinned, “Hallo, mum. We going to church?”
“No, not today, honey,” I said, brushing the blonde curls from his face. “Today’s Saturday. We’re going to go to Alice’s house for some tea, okay?”
“Okay!” Allan replied exuberantly, jumping up and down.
“Alright then,” I smiled. “First we’ve got to brush our teeth and get dressed…”
“And eat breakfast!” Allan added.
“And eat breakfast,” I agreed. Allan dragged me from the bed and started the morning process – brushing his teeth with my help and so on. I sat Allan down in one of the chairs of the kitchen table and he chattered to me about school.

“Mum,” he asked, “Why don’t you wear red today? You look so pretty in red. And some of the eye-stuff. Like you used to when I was little.”
I laughed, “You want me to wear makeup?”
“Yeah; I mean, yes,” he corrected himself. “I want you to look pretty!”
“Okay. First things first, though,” I said, putting a sunny-side-up egg and a piece of toast on a plate. “You eat; I’ll go get dolled up.” I put on pink lipstick and really light eyeliner and eye shadow. Alice always bought me makeup – she said a woman like me should still look pretty. When I came back into the room, Allan was finishing his egg and toast and putting his coat on.
“Let’s go, mum,” he said. “I wanna see Auntie Alice. She always has good food.” Alice wasn’t really his aunt. I work at her speak-easy. Alice took me in when I was pregnant with Allan; she was even his godmother. We all went to Saint Mary’s in the slums on Sunday’s like a real family. Just Alice, Allan, and me. It was nice.

New York City’s got nice slums, if you don’t look too hard – you just have to learn to appreciate what you got. I grew up here – in Saint Mary’s orphanage. My parents just up and left me, but now I’ve got Alice and Allan. The best and only family I’ll ever need. I work at Alice’s. It used to be a pub, only it isn’t because of the Prohibition. So Alice serves coffee in the mornings and the stuff with alcohol in it after ten at night. I work at Alice’s when Alice takes the night off because then Alice will take care of Allan when I take care of the shop. It’s nice and the guys aren’t too bad either. I just let them have some alcohol to take the edge off. Some of them have really bad lives. I think the alcohol let’s them take away the pain of life sometimes.

Allan and I walked to Alice’s house holding hands. Allan hummed and sang as he walked right by the street. He was really happy.
“What’s making you so happy today, Allan?” I asked. He looked at me with his pretty grey eyes.
“Look, mum,” he said pointing to the sky. “God gave me a pretty day and you and Auntie Alice. Why shouldn’t I be happy?” I smiled at his beautiful child’s faith. “And I heard this really good song on the radio yesterday,” he added.
“Oh?” I asked. “Did you like that song?”
“Yeah; I mean yes,” he said. “I liked that song.”
“Okay then,” I said, as we walked up the alley way to Alice’s house. Alice’s speak-easy was a really dolled up place – she had flower boxes on the windows and all. She had the doors painted bright colors like she had nothing to hide. Her house was even more inviting. It was built into the back of the speak-easy with a wrap-around porch on two sides and on the first and second floor. It was white with green trimmings. The perfect example of a pretty country house – except that it was down in the slums. Alice was on the porch waiting for us. Allan ran into her arms.
“Well, hey there, Allan, Kristy,” she said, lifting Allan up. Allan giggled happily.
“Got food, Auntie Alice?” he asked.
“Allan, be polite,” I chided. “Besides, you just ate.”
“I’m still hungry,” he whined. I looked at Alice. She smiled.
“I’ve got cookies cooling off now…” she trailed off.
“Oh, alright,” I said, defeated. “Allan, please and thank you,” I reminded him.
“Okay, mum.”

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So how do her people like it, eh?

Love from Beezyk, Tony, and moi,

Asiat

hey, cherrios - smile!