|
|
Post by Eli Ackerman on Aug 30, 2010 22:13:20 GMT
  WAVING FROM SUCH GREAT HEIGHTS."Come down now," they'll say.
His mother had asked him to stay for dinner. What a disaster. But he couldn't say he was surprised. It was always a disaster. It never went well. He wasn't as optimistic as his mother, who had yet to give up hope on the idea of the boy and his stepfather getting along. The worst part? Eli had realized it on his way down the street: he wasn't going anywhere, he wasn't doing anything, he was just killing time before he had to go back home. Where else could he go? He was still a kid, there was no place for him but home. Fuck... Even the strongest profanities didn't express his frustration.
At least it was a nice night. Well, nice enough. How did that song he liked go again? 'A beautiful night for being lonely'. That's definately what he was. Lonely. Eli didn't even have Duncan with him tonight. The dog was impressive; of everyone he had ever met, Duncan was the only one who could 1. sleep comfortably curled into a ball half his original size, and 2. sleep at all with people screaming across the house at eachother. Eli cleared his throat in a subtle way, knowing some of the disgusting sounds people could make with their vocal chords (despite being alone, with no people around to disgust). Having taken part in the screaming, he was a bit hoarse; it was a big house to shout across. Let sleeping dogs lie. That was the rule, and Eli took it into consideration when fumbling for his car keys and slamming the back door behind him.
Eli hadn't been able to deal with Dan anymore, which wasn't uncommon. Over the past few months especially, he had burned up more gas than ever before with all the drives he took after the arguments. He didn't know what he would do if he hadn't located small sanctuaries around the town. However, many of these sanctuaries closed when the sun went down. The park gave him peace, quiet, and a place to think even through the late hours of the night. Grocery store, that had been his excuse. He had ripped the slim piece of paper from the refrigerator and stuffed it into his pocket when he went out the door. That's another thing that had changed within the past few months: the small family never seemed to run out of anything food-wise. It was because Dan got extra irritable this late at night, and the grocery store was the innocent part of this town open all hours of the day and night. The list of food was small and petty, some items impatiently underlined, meaning Dan wanted them. Those that were circled and underlined meant he really wanted them. Eli knew he was going to "accidentally" forget a lot of them.
Mainly because the grocery store wasn't the point. The grocery store was never the point. Whenever he needed to get out of the house, immidiately, he used the grocery store as a cover and took a walk under the stars. Something he never really did, considering he was a runner, and never walked when he could run, and considering that he was an only child and his mother was more than nervous about murderers and kidnappers roaming the streets. Truthfully, living in upper-lower-middle-class Detroit had made Eli the same way, which means it was stupid of him to be trekking around the dimly-lit park in the middle of the night, after all, he could trekk through the well-lighted streets, try to find a nightclub and try his luck at looking eighteen, or swing by the residential area to see if anyone was still awake. Hell, he could trekk through the grocery store. But there was something about the night air that calmed the boy.
He had taken his walk, contemplated opening up the one lonely package of cigarettes he had stolen from Dan a ways back, then decided if the night air and the gentle breeze running through the space around him wasn't enough to settle his frustration a cigarette wouldn't either, and headed back to his car. It was close to three o'clock now, and even a peaceful little city like Jamestown had cops. Or so Eli had been told. And at the annoying age of seventeen, Eli was still subject to curfew. And so he started the car and headed away from the lake (making sure he checked the backseat for any kidnappers before leaving.) With his foot firmly holding the brake pedal, the boy suddenly felt a tearing emotion close to depression. A night for being lonely, it seemed that stage had passed. He needed someone to talk to. Someone other than the stars in the sky. Maybe he would swing by the residential streets anyways, see if anyone was a secret insomniac.
The boy had just pulled into the street when the car gave a grand sputter, an exceptionally ugly noise, enough of one to cause Eli to pull over on the side of the road, as he knew what that sound meant. That was Noise #4. And of all the problematic noises, #4 was the worst. Kind of like someone's soul was dying, throwing up, and scratching its especially long nails across a chalkboard simultaneously. The old Skyliner looked brand new: a still-retractable white hood (rare for its age) and a sparkling cherry-red body, the car was practically Grease Lightning. Except for the engine. Much unlike the famous, powerful, street-racing greaser car, Eli's sputtered and coughed at him at the most unintelligible times. Like now, when he simply wanted to find someone else in this world, just one person. Of course, Eli could merely drive cars, fixing them wasn't anywhere near in his range of talents. The car had cost him nothing, as it was a present from Dan's grandchild-loving, richer-than-God parents, despite the fact that Eli was technically not their grandchild. Maybe that's why the car was so great but the engine was so useless: he was only an almost-grandchild to them.
He pulled the keys from the ignition, ceasing the awful sound. Eli let out a sigh and got out of the car, there was nothing he could do other than pop the hood, stare at the mess of machinery and hope someone driving by knew their way around the inside of a car. From what he could tell, the engine wasn't letting out intimidating smoke like it did when the car made Noise #2, the most uncommon and severe of the problems, and nothing was obviously out of place like Noise #5 situations. Noise #'s 1 and 3 had something to do with a shortage of gas and oil, or so he thought. Noise #4 was the tricky one that had given him no clues. The car was so impressive, and when the engine decided it was feeling good, it showed. Now, however, it was embarrassing, he almost didn't want anyone to stop by. But that was a huge lie, he needed human contact, needed it. He refused to go to crawling back to his house and go to bed knowing the last person he would speak to was Dan.
"Awesome," Eli muttered, tolerance level shrinking. Now he needed someone for reasons other than throwing a rope down the pit of despair to drag him out. In his loneliness, the boy was stranded. Leaning against the side of his car, his eyes watched the street closely. For any sign of headlights or footsteps. Anyone who could save him one mental breakdown and an auto repair bill. At least it was a nice night. [/blockquote][/color]
EVERYTHING LOOKS PERFECT FROM FAR AWAY."Come down now," but we'll stay.[/font]
STATUS; complete.[/size] WORDCOUNT; 1,271.[/size] TAGGED; open.[/size] JAMS; beautiful night -- burden brothers.[/size] NOTES; eli is just about as socially deprived as his rper right now xP.[/size][/center] |
|
|
|
Post by Arthur Fisher on Aug 31, 2010 11:08:05 GMT
 Do You Ever Feel, Feel So Paper Thin?Like A House Of Cards, One Blow From Caving In...- - - - - Late night drives were definitely not Art's cup of tea. He'd really dropped the ball this time. He'd gone a town over for a change of scene, and had gotten lost on the way back. The sun had been setting when he left, but now the sky was a dark navy. Everything looked different at night, at least that was his excuse. No way was he going to tell anyone about this. Who was there to tell anyway? No one at home, no one at work (he needed some waiters for his café, and fast), no one anywhere he really knew. That was part of the deal, though, he supposed. Moving to a new town and all, there was bound to be that transition period. He blinked, trying to keep focus on the road. He was a nervous driver, that was for sure, so his eyes remained centred on the road ahead. There wasn't much to see down this road even during daylight, if he remembered rightly. Just a few bushes, the occasional telephone pole. The place wasn't really rural, but some of the roads certainly gave that impression.
On the plus side, this was also the home stretch. He passed the ornate sign that had 'Jamestown, CA' carved into it. His lips pulled upwards into a small curve. It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to realise that the CA stood for California. It was one of those things, seeing it on a sign meant nothing, but when he'd gotten out a map of the country to put in his study it had suddenly made sense. There were buildings, now, firstly just the odd garage or petrol station ('gas station,' he mentally corrected, he was still having trouble remembering all the american lingo), followed by a convenience store, and then houses. He avoided going towards the town centre; he didn't think there'd be too many people around at this time of night, but running the risk seemed like a lot of effort, so he took the longer route home.
He swung the car down another road, he was only a couple of minutes from his house now, when his train of thought was interrupted by a sight at the side of the road. There was a boy stood against the side of a car. He quickly gave the car the once over, it looked nice enough, truth be told cars weren't really Art's thing. Then he looked at the boy. To be fair to the guy he wasn't really a boy, but he couldn't be much older than, say, eighteen? At least he didn't look like he posed much of a threat - his expression was closer to forlorn than angry. There was a short moment where he debated what to do. Should he drive on? Or stop and ask what's up? No one just stood around at this time of night, especially not at his age. He shouldn't really be out, so odds were good he needed help. Either that he really was stupid enough to wait for trouble to come and find him. It was worth asking, he decided, even if he didn't get out the car just yet. Besides, what if he thought Art was dodgy? Older guy, middle of the night, pulling up to offer help... he could understand how it looked a little suspect. Never mind, his intentions were good, how the other guy took wasn't under his control.
"Hi," he said, rolling down the window & stopping the car just opposite, "Need a hand?" his accent was painfully apparent, although he did like it, he stood out like a sore thumb. Perhaps he'd lose it with time. He smiled, trying to convey to the lad that he wasn't dangerous, resting his arm on the door, waiting for a response, whatever it was going to be...
- - - - -
Do You Know That There's, Still A Chance For You?
'Cause There's A Spark In You, You Just Gotta Ignite...
- - - - -
Status: Completed
Word Count: 643
Clothing: Pastel Green Button-Down, Jeans, Trainers
Song Credit: Firework by Katy Perry
Notes: *Is Excited To See Where This Goes*
|
|
|
|
Post by Eli Ackerman on Aug 31, 2010 20:55:58 GMT
WAVING FROM SUCH GREAT HEIGHTS."Come down now," they'll say.
So, recap of this lovely situation. Eli was alone. He was devestatingly alone, and with every passing minute he felt more and more deprived of social contact. His frustration-curing walk hadn't been successful, and he was more frustrated than ever. He needed someone to talk to, someone to a. listen to his thoughts, b. get his mind off everything, or c. all of the above. He wouldn't find that at home. Oh well, things could be worse. At least he wasn't stranded by the lake at three in the morning with a broken car and a mere fifteen dollars and seventy-five cents in his pockets. Oh, wait... Somewhere the one stray cat of Jamestown let out its infamous yowl. The only other being under the night sky. No, it wasn't all that great of a situation to be in. Infact, he cursed quietly to himself about how much the situation sucked. The boy was staring intently at the road in front of him, looking for anything. Headlights, people, dogs, police, absolutely anyone. He let out a sigh and took a short break to glance up at the sky. Eli was surprised to find that in his little recess from the vigilant watch, a car had appeared.
Really, he was just surprised in general. It was like he went into some sort of trance. All he knew was the mess of the car in front of him, the empty road in his range of vision, the cat in the darkness, and suddenly a voice was to be heard behind him. With a small yelp he quickly spun around to face his company, finding it was not a mugger or the cat or some other terrible being of the night, but a man he was positive he had seen roaming the streets nearby his house/grocery/store/somewhere once or twice (though he wasn't in the clear yet, the nightlife of Jamestown residents proved to be quite unexpected on occasion, still, Eli felt that both he and his wallet were safe from the potential wrath of the man before him). Wide-eyed with shock, Eli shook the surprise from his mind. "Sorry..." he started, a bashful sort of smile crossing his face. "You sort of snuck up on me there..." Why did that happen? It seemed that whenever Eli was embarrassed the people around him always got taller, bigger... Or maybe it was him feeling so much smaller. The human imagination is a powerful thing.
But that's right. He was smiling now, in the middle of his misery and deprivation. Half because of common courtesy, and half because karma had compensated. He was still stranded in the middle of the night with a broken car and nearly sixteen dollars, but he wasn't alone anymore. So, step one: find someone else facing the dangers of the night. Check. What was step two? Eli had no idea, but regardless, he saw the light in the male's arrival. Now he wasn't waiting through the night so he could go home, knowing his stubborn behavior saved his dignity. Even if this wasn't by any means a conversation to help his mind escape the suffocating thoughts of home, at least he had found someone to help him with the car troubles. Or so he hoped he could, instead of leaving him stranded to sleep in his car... Because there was no doubt, to save his pride and avoid calling the slightly more car savvy Dan the boy would most definately set up camp in the passenger's seat. Eli almost wanted to ask why he was out at this ungodly hour, but then again, why was he?
He had asked if Eli needed some help. How would he answer that without sounding like a further idiot? "I, um... Yeah, a little bit." It didn't take a genius to realize that terrible noise couldn't have been uttered by the tongue of a human. Eli took a glance at the car from the corner of his eye. What had he done to it? He had tried to start it, but apparently that had been too much to ask for. "My car... It's kind of prehistoric..." he began, knowing that he was stating the obvious. "And I say that because it sounds like a dinosaur," Eli secretly hoped he had heard some other terrible noises that emitted from some other nearby motor engine, rather than his own. But who was he kidding? Of course he had heard Eli's. Everyone in the general tri-state area heard it. In the middle of the forest small deer and rabbits stopped eating grass and lifted their heads to listen. "I don't think it gets any worse than it is right now." It didn't seem likely, nor did it seem possible. "But then again I haven't tried the windsheild wipers in a while." No matter his mood, Eli was always able to make a joke. Especially when flustered. It was his defense mechanism, used to bounce back and regain composure. But back to the car... The boy wondered what sort of evil was awaiting him next time he tried to clean his windsheild.
"I'm Eli," he introduced himself, hoping that maybe this conversation would last longer if his company knew his name. But then again, if one had ventured into the night and made a point to talk to someone, wasn't it a safe assumption that they intended to talk to you for more than a few awkward moments? On the other hand, this was the "big bad city". The man before him could very well be intending to mug him and speed off into the night. But he wouldn't, right? Eli hoped not. It seemed his optimism had returned with his confidence, which had been a gift from his never-fail sense of humor. "You don't happen to have a garage hiding in your dashboard, do you?" [/blockquote][/color]
EVERYTHING LOOKS PERFECT FROM FAR AWAY."Come down now," but we'll stay.[/font]
STATUS; complete.[/size] WORDCOUNT; 998.[/size] TAGGED; arthur[/size] JAMS; transatlanticism -- death cab for cutie.[/size] NOTES; hooray for social contact![/size][/center] |
|
