(Dec) Prompt 1 - Frost

[Naraness]

December's 1st Prompt is the word “Frost”



If you have any questions about how to participate in this event,
please visit the rules (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=63004) thread or PM Naraness (http://role-player.net/forum/member.php?u=24919).

Happy writing!

[Kris]

Chapter 3 (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=77780&p=2680906&viewfull=1#post2680906)

Chapter 4-

I stood beside his grave. The letters J.A.C.K engraved on the cold stone. It was a sea side grave, close to small lake, under a huge oak tree. I never suspected he would have liked to be buried... and not in such style. He always hit me as the type of person to leave nothing behind. He insisted in some will he made before he joined the local police ranks to never have his family name uncovered, and as much as I knew he never was in contact with them. I don't think he had a partner, or was even married. I could be wrong though, the man was old.

But damn. You never expect such people to bite the dust so soon. There were remains of bouquets, garlands and wreath around his tomb, all probably given by the station members, as I really couldn't think of anyone else to be bothered with him that was not work related. It looked like a fucking Christmas tree, but a sickly one, as the flowers already withered.

Alister told me everything. He told me how his body was found as soon as he left the hospital. I realized the only reason they didn't blame me was because he was making a call to the station at that time, asking them to not even consider me as suspect. Said I was a good kid. Maybe it was good he made that call. It was how they located him.

Fuck.

His body was in bad shape when they found it. Alister never told me this precious bit of information, but I needed not ask or be confirmed. His expression told me everything and I never saw Alister this miserable. Truth be told, as much as they were at each other throats, Jack and Alister were to each other the closet thing one would consider to be best friends. Maybe if one of them was a female thing ended up differently between them. Maybe the two already were intimate, it was hard to tell these days...

The wind blow and the tree leaves danced around me as I caught my poor excuse for a coat for dear life. I imagined it was his green smelly coat, the one he always wore around. I figured he must have washed it, but there was this smell about it, that no matter how many times it was scraped, the smell was still part of it, like a mistress you can't seem to walk away from.

I rubbed my hands at each other, trying to warm myself up. It didn't help, but I didn't stop trying.

"You want me to say few words?" , I smiled, and the wind blow my hair, getting it messy over my face, as if to say 'yes'. Well he always had his special way to make me know he cares, "Gotta say I don't have much to say. You still owe me the cash for the pictures. It could have helped me with the next two month's rent. Now everything just case evidences and was confiscated... Fuck it I worked for it you know!".

I looked at the lake, as if expecting someone to answer from the depths, "Alister was kind enough to let me get my camera. It cost me half year saving mind you. And the big softie knew I was attached to it. I think it was the first and probably last moment where Alister broke the law. You would have liked to see it and get it all on tap, and play it few times for your pleasure. It still amuses me so you may...-", I halted.

"Might.... Might.... you are not here anymore... fuck you...".

It was not too dark yet, but I wish it was, it would have given me some excuse to leave. And as much as I wanted to just walk away and cry like a little boy my legs were frozen solid to the ground, making me be aware of this nightmare of having a special someone in my life dead.

Well it was not the first time. Probably not the last. I just always figured Jack would be the last to go between us. I was the rushed one after all. Hell, I literally searched for skeletons, or zombies in this case, while he was working from behind the scenes, trying his best not to get too close. But then again he was on duty, I did it for... sport? Money? excitement?

"Got something for you, though...", I searched in my coat taking out a cheap Saint Luis Rey cigar from my pockets and a packs of matches, "No, I'm not going to be putting it on your grave. The last thing I need you is to be revived by the will to smoke this cheap excuse for smoke".

It took me few tries to lit it, breaking few matches and tossing some that didn't caught fire. Fuck how did he always got this figured so quick? Anyway, after few more tries I got the thing to pup out smoke.

I brought it to my lips and inhaled.

Fuck it was horrible.

I coughed liked crazy and once I calmed down I took another strong inhale. The process continued for a while.

Here's to you Jack, you son of a bitch, may you rest in peace.


***

"What's this smell?", Tobias was genuinely yelling. I never knew he had it in him, it was kinda appealing, "It's like you fall into gas station's pipe".

"Nice to see you too", I said between clicking teeth. I was shivering like a dog, and I just wanted to get under the warm blankets.

"Where have you been? I was worried sick! You know you are not suppose to wonder around in your state and-!"

I hugged him. I fucking hugged him. I felt his hands clenching into fists. Clearly not knowing what to do, "I'm sorry... I had something to take care of, I'm sorry".

I shivered... And I fucking hoped I won't start crying. I didn't want him to see me falling apart. I was like the big sister in this damn house, and the last thing I need was for him to see me breaking.

I felt his hands around me, trying to do something similar to a hug. He was kinda lost at this, maybe even new to it? He was clearly not comfortable but his efforts were sweet. At least he was trying.

We stayed like that for few minutes, before I escaped to my room, planning how I want to continue from this point onward.

Chapter 5 (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=80601&p=2762245&viewfull=1#post2762245)

[m139]

Part Three of the December Story
Frost
read part two (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=77780&p=2683977&viewfull=1#post2683977)

Cold. I felt cold. When the police came after I called them, I answered there questions, although I remember almost none of it. It was diagnosed as some poisoning or something, and when they examined him, they found he had some drugs on him. Why? I don't know. I was cleared, they said. At least, they said so then. It was a bit more interesting when the hatch opened completely.

They had, of course, seen it that early morning when he died. They had been able to go about five feet down when they hit a metal sheet. And then they could go no further. It was a week later when I heard the grating again. The sheet had moved.

I went down. The lights were still on. And each of the hallways that I had seen were the same as I remembered. It was, though, bigger than I remembered. But, the size did not matter. No, what mattered was the bodies...

Everywhere- along the hallways, in the rooms, in the underground farmyards- there were bodies. Here was someone who had been writing. The pen had been dropped, and the boy was now slumped over the desk, dried blood having coagulated on the left side of his mouth. And here, it this hallway, a maybe woman a bit older than me, collapsed. The papers from her folder had spread out all around her. One, caught under her arm, was slowly flapping up and down from the stream of air coming from the ventilator.

I did not spend long down there before I came back up again. Then I called the police. At first they did not believe me. But when they came... and went down... and came back up again...

The look on their faces told it all. Pretty soon the place was swarming with cars. Things happened, time passed, and somehow, I got through it all. They found a room full of computers. The only room they could not quite figure out how to get working. The only room where there was a back room that no one could enter... that is, until I came down...

I pressed my hand on the little plate. Immediately, the back door open, and light poured out. I stepped in, and an automated voice greeted me by name. And then, my life story was revealed to all behind me, and... myself.

I knew already it was some kind of experiment, but I never really thought of where I had come from. When I thought of it, I would always assumed I was just someone's child. But... but I never knew I had come from above... Aperently, I'd been reported as dead within three days of my birth. I was switched out for a similar child, who had died. The whole family died. And I- I could care less!

Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered anymore!

I got up and left. When I did, the lights went off in the room again. But no one stopped me. No one stopped me as I climbed up the ladder, and out into the old barn, and out into the light. I would have continued to the house, but, it was on fire. It must have been triggered by that dumb room.

I turned left, and went into the orchard. The trees were all bare, it being the tail end of winter. I walked to the peach tree, or rather, what was left of it. About two years ago, it had become infected with disease, and so it had been cut down to just its trunk. And that was all that stood there: a lifeless trunk. Underneath was the bench, made of stone.

I went over, and sat down. A breath of cold wind blew across me. For a second, I hugged my jacket closer to myself, but then, I loosened my grip. What did it matter if I was cold on the outside? I was already cold on the inside! There was nothing! Nothing!

I refused to cry. But all this energy had to go somewhere... I got up, and started walking.

And I kept walking, and walking, and walking. Soon enough, I found myself in the park in the next city over.

It was evening, now. I finally had to rest. I sat down on a random bench. There were children playing with a soccer ball in the field before me. For a while, I watched them. Their happy world was so far removed from mine.

Then, suddenly, there world intersected with mine. The ball came flying towards my face. Instinctively, I held up my hands to block it. It bounced off, and landed a few feet in front of me. Standing, I picked it up, and through it back. The children cheered.

I felt the beginnings of a smile creep across my face. Again I began to walk. Was it possible to find happiness again? And, more importantly, could happiness last?

Suddenly, it hit me. I realized it was not that I could not be happy, but that I was afraid to be.

The next bench, thankfully, was open. I sat- kind of fell, actually- down. For the first time since I don't know how long, I was not being manipulated by anything. There were no more strange voices, the man was long gone. The friendships I had formed after my brother's death were not really, anyway, and now, even my house was gone.

But me, I was still here. And I was free. I could begin again.

The only thing that stood in my way... was... Me.

Dare I?

Dare I open myself up to love again, to the possibility of being hurt? Or should I stay closed up forever, and live the rest of my life without the pain of relationships?

Should I be cold forever, and reject the past of both my actions and my families love?

Or do I move on, knowing both the pain I have caused but remembering the love I once knew?

Suddenly, a little girl ran up to me, holding out a flower. "Thanks for getting the ball back. Sorry it hit you."

I took the flower, and off she ran towards her mother. I sat there silently for a long time. Then, just before the sun had completely fallen behind the horizon, I whispered back, "No. Thank you."

I stood, and stretched, a small smile forming across my face. I could begin again. No, I would begin again. No matter what happened next, I could take it. It would be okay. And eventually there would be a brighter tomorrow. And if that was not to be for me, well then, at least it could be for these little ones in the park.

I twiddled the flower in my fingers as I began walking again. Where I would go? I did not know.

But wherever I went, I would be alive. I couldn't live with my insides empty any longer.

The frost in my heart was beginning to melt.

[~N~]

It was December, and there was frost on the windshield. Water alone makes the most intricate patterns when it freezes. It's a rogue molecule, expanding when it solidifies, forming fractalized patterns out of seemingly random fluctuations found in its liquid form. Order from chaos.

Sometimes relationships are like that. Moments that freeze into intricate patterns of beauty, and you swear, at that moment, that you're looking into eternity.

I was waiting for her for over forty minutes in the airport. She was always late. Being an airport, I didn't really lay the blame on her shoulders squarely, but when people start filing out for twenty minutes and you see no sign of the woman you're looking for, you begin to wonder.

There's a part of me that wants to say that society deserves some of the blame: women always seem to get a pass when it comes to time. But I've known some pretty punctual girls. Not this one. Always late.

Always late.

Like a pattern frozen into the windshield. One I chose to ignore time and again, because hey, that's what you do, right? Anyone else, this would've been a problem because I hate waiting. And I especially hate waiting on other people.

Most people in the world value money. Fuck money. Currency on paper that adds up to numbers that don't mean fucking shit. Except when you're trying to buy a car, or tickets to the opera, or dinner at a French restaurant.

I told her she was worth waiting for, and I convinced myself it was true. Or maybe she convinced me, I'm not sure. Airports are terrible places already: the very antithesis of a place you want to stay. Lights that are harsher than a stinging -20 degree wind in your face; walls and decor that are as carbon copy and plastic and lifeless as a prison, and the worst bullshit pretending to be food going for prices that would make hotdogs at a baseball stadium seem like a good fucking deal. Airports.

And the smell. Like the inside of one of those commercial aircraft cabins. All filtered air, babies screaming, and coughing. You're sure to be sick. I don't care how much goddamn Airborne gummies you wolf down, you're still getting some version of the latest edition of your area's own special blend of respiratory infection. Enjoy!

Sick people should have to be hosed down with anti-viral spray. I don't care if it gives them cancer. They're already going through revolving x-ray scanners that reveal every unsightly detail even their lovers haven't seen (because you know, lights tend to be off when that sort of thing happens), and pummeling their cells with who knows how much radiation, so why not? What's another layer of "You should've gotten your shit together before you took this flight, asshole" for them to deal with?

And then there are the airlines themselves. I've had flights canceled on clear days. Not delayed, fucking canceled. Yeah. Chew on that for a moment. "Maintenance." That's what they'll tell you, because what the fuck else could it be? Union strikes? Pilots who haven't slept in who knows how long? A wing that's ready to fall off?

Everything in the airline industry went to hell after 9/11 in America. No shit. I'm serious. I'm one of those pre-millenial people; I'm telling you the truth.

Used to be? You could arrive at the airport fucking thirty minutes before your flight left the runway.

Think about that. It's inconceivable today. You actually could run to catch your plane. Now the only time you run is to catch your connection, because they're never on-time anymore. Not arriving. Not leaving.

Just like her.

But she's worth waiting for, right? I keep telling myself this; pacing, waiting, watching people filter out.

And eventually, there she is. Like a flight that's been delayed three times and finally arrives seven hours after it's due.

That's what separates love from airlines, isn't it -- with an airline, you'd be furious and demand your fucking money back. And they'd actually give it to you. Probably.

We embrace, kiss, hold hands and then I offer to buy her one of those plastic bagels at the Dunkin Donuts. I mean, it's either that or a plastic Egg McMuffin at McDonalds. When you're starving, nothing else matters, and neither of us has had anything that remotely resembles food since last night.

I go through the formalities -- you know, ask about how the flight was, who she was sitting next to, were there any babies throwing up all over themselves; the usual.

I'm chewing on my piece of stale blueberry bagel thinking that they might've improved the the plastic consistency of American cheese product they were using. Or maybe this piece is simply a little more melted from its minute in their microwave than usual.

We head down to the baggage claim. She hasn't quite gotten to the point yet that she's willing to travel with a carry-on. Another post-9/11 necessity, I assure you. Almost 15 years since I checked a goddamn thing.

I know, I know. You women and your shoes. Look, I won't judge you. Bring one or two nice pair and I'll still think you're the living embodiment of beauty. Even if every other jealous bitch in the restaurant we're heading to is eyeing you up with those judging eyes, you pay no mind to them -- they're just pissed they're not glowing quite as much as you and I are.

The frosting on those donuts tastes kind of plasticky too, doesn't it? I mean, I won't tell you -- the waxy sprinkles and shiny vanilla looks the part, like you do, but I'm not so certain that the sweetness isn't completely artificial sugary goodness slathered all over some day-old fried dough pretending to be something delicious.

I wouldn't want anyone to know that we're not as sweet as we look.

"Come on," I say, flashing that winning smile. "Let's get out of here." And I take her back to my car with frost on the windshield.

[Kicks]

The grin he flashed had stolen her heart the moment she laid her eyes on it. It wasn't sparkly, it wasn't white. It was a grin that lit up his face the same way a flashlight's gleam bounced off the frost of a windshield, sending dozens of diamonds dancing. It was like that but instead of the diamonds of the light reflecting off, it was showing through straight to her heart.

How could they be so young and yet so in love? From birth onward, they were destined to live into their old age together. One could not simply grow up close to this boy and not fall in love with him at some point. It must have been during her very younger years that she realized just how truly in love with him she was.

It wasn't until his face was shining red with embarrassment and a flower (clumsily plucked) he did offer to her that she realized he too was in love with her.

It was a spinning, dizzying, world-shattering sort of love. Every time he touched her her skin was lit on fire. Every time he grinned at her, her heart squeezed in its shell and her face broke into a red flush. Every time she saw him, she got butterflies in her stomach and a light feeling in her head.

One time she asked him how he felt when he saw her. He described it to her with a red face as wanting something so bad, being so close to it, but never being able to have it just yet. It was like needing air to breathe. It was the same feeling in his head he got when he stayed under water for too long. It was the same feeling he got when sitting up too fast from bed.

It was blinding. It was beautiful.

And that day, the reception, the ceremony- him in his tuxedo... it was blinding and beautiful too. When he reached out and met his lips with hers, it was dizzying in the same way she would sit up too fast from bed. It was the same feeling she got when she kept her head under water for too long. It was needing oxygen to breathe.

There was no one else that existed for that day. It was only him and his touch, his grin, his whole heart devoted to her. It was his eyes, how they possessed her and pleaded for her. It was only him and his every touch from a caress of her arm to a kiss on the head.

He was gentle. He was sweet. The man was protective, possessive, and all too familiar with her heart for her to ever let him go.

And that night, the laughter, the swearing each other's bodies to one another... it was all blinding and beautiful too. It was a different kind of need for air, but not unlike needing him to breathe. It was being trapped in tight coils and finally sprung free. It was being swept up in a dizzying feeling in the head like staying under water for too long... and finally coming up to gasp for air. It was clutching at each other, swearing to one another to never leave, to forever love.

Being cradled in his arms was like being gently kissed on the forehead. It was the same loving feeling, the same need for him she had always had. It was finally feeling true protection and being able to feel safe despite how the world cried out in violence. It was relaxing into the comfort of the arms of one you solely trusted. It was finding her place in a large world of possibilities.

He was her entire world. She was so blinded by him and his love that she did not think for a moment they needed anyone else.

But that day, when they got the news it hit her harder and left her with a feeling in her head similar to getting up too fast from bed. It was the same exciting feeling in her chest she got when she saw him grin. It was a different kind of love- an exciting, protective feeling of love. It was a need, a craving to be fulfilled. And something to love deeper than her own self... than even him...

But that day... when they got the news... it hit harder than drowning in a shallow lake of water... it was like not being able to take a breath... it was like being blinded by blood rushing to her head in a pounding force... it was dizzying in a nauseous, roller coaster ride... it was being trapped and not being able to feel anything other than crushing, exhausting despair...

And he was her protection, the arms that cradled her. The whispers in her ear that swore everything was okay. That swore he loved her, and he would never leave her. He swept her into his love, his distraction from pain. It was his fulfillment of a promise many nights ago to forever protect her. It was his fulfillment to care and love her through the good and the bad. And it was so bad. So, so bad.

And she only wanted to take away the pain from herself and from him. And so she lost herself in him, and allowed him to relinquish anguish and love to her. They lost each other in a dance in the night. It was exciting and exhilarating, but not in a hearty, good feeling way. It was needing each other and being close to each other as they could possibly get. It was expressing their everlasting love, their everlasting devotion to each other.

It was painful, but not physically. In their hearts they mourned. Outwardly they caressed each other, holding each other in their own protective embraces. It felt like being nearly drowned and finally saved. It felt like regaining vision after standing up too fast from bed. It was blinding and it was beautiful.