Surely Someday: Story One, Part 3: Here
Feb. 27th, 2012 09:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
walkwithheroesName: Nichole
Story: Surely Someday
Piece Title: Here: Part Three
Colors: Heart Gold: 5. Love is an energy which exists of itself. It is its own value. - Thornton Wilder;Tardis Blue: 1. You can always judge a man by the quality of his enemies.
Supplies and Materials: none
Word Count: 2,152
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: an attack on a werewolf that has parallels to a gay bashing.
Summary:Andrews and Maggie discuss her day. Simon is saved by an unknown man. Maggie meets someone new.
When Andrews opened the old metal door of his home, he wasn’t the least bit surprised to find Maggie absent. She usually wandered upstairs during the afternoon hours. A quick peek in the kitchen revealed itself to be freshly cleaned; a large meal of turkey and green beans set neatly on the wooden table. The smell of the turkey mixed with the scent of fresh pine, making the whole kitchen smell like, what Andrews supposed an outdoor picnic was like.
A spotless parlor was across the hall. The only evidence that someone had been there was the messy pile of yellow yarn and knitting needles that were set on the sofa. A quick scan let Andrews see that Maggie had straighten the whole room up; Simon’s magazines sat neat on the table in front of the sofa. Andrews own books were stacked lopsidedly on the floor beside the small television stand. The television itself was on mute, and an old episode of Doctor Who was playing to an audience of books and yarn.
Maggie had, it appeared, had a good day. A day of cleaning and cooking and no upsetting moments of ‘going away’; going away’ was what Maggie called it when she got a far off look in her eyes. She’d scream or talk to herself, holding whole one-sided conversations about people and events she may or may not have known. Those were the moments that always scared Andrews. Those were the moments that he wished he hadn’t run away with her.
“Maggie?” he called out even as he began walking up the narrow staircase. A quick glance around told him that she wasn’t in any of the three bedrooms or in the bathroom. That only left one place – the attic. Her usual afternoon spot.
For the last few years – for as long as they had lived in the house – the attic had been Maggie’s special place. She kept everything up there, neatly lined up in rows against the walls. There were books, pictures, dolls and stuffed animals, puzzles, games, chests full of clothing, even a tiny red television, all of it bought by Andrews to make Maggie feel more normal and less lonely.
Opening the door to the attic, Andrews called out for Maggie once again. Walking up the stairs to the attic, Andrews could hear the faint sounds of Maggie’s voice whispering to herself. For the briefest of moments a fear rose inside Andrews that Maggie had ‘gone away’ again. Reaching the top of the stairs, Andrews felt his fear melt away – she was simply reading to herself. Listening closely, Andrews tried to figure out just what she was reading. It seemed like a children’s book, but –
“It’s Roly-Poly Man and Puddin’ Head Go to The Zoo.” Maggie answered, before glancing up at Andrews.
Roly-Poly Man and Puddin’ Head was a series of childrens' books about a large man and his basset hound called Puddin’ Head. The books usually involved the duo going to places in their small village or doing daily activities. The series was Maggie’s favorite.
“You brought me gifts?” Maggie asked with a mischievous smile.
“Don’t I always?” Settling down beside Maggie on the wooden floor, Andrews opened the first of his four shopping bags. “Five French films – the newest releases, of course. They’re due back at the shop in two days, but I’m sure you’ll finish before then.”
Andrews smiled slightly as he opened the second bag. Inside were two dresses; one dark blue and one light pink, both were frilly things with lots of lace. Andrews had bought them from a vintage store down the street; Maggie liked the older dresses. From the third shopping bag, he pulled out a ball of bright red yarn. Finally, Andrews opened the last shopping bag, pulling out three large novels and a children’s' book. “The newest Roly-Poly Man and a bit of European history; they should keep you busy for the next couple of days.”
Running a pale hand over the lacy sleeves of the blue dress, Maggie giggled softly to herself. “It’s all so pretty, Douglas.”
Andrews patted her hand. “Yes. Now, shall we go downstairs? I’m starving.”
“Well,” pausing in thought, Maggie momentarily chewed on her lower lip. “where is Simon? You can’t eat without him.”
“Maggie.”
“Douglas.”
One look at her and Andrews knew there was no point in arguing. He just couldn’t when she gave that little pout; her eyes determined. Maggie held the idea that she, Andrews, and Simon were a family, and they had to do things together. Things like eating meals. In truth it was a bit of a pain, but Andrews found it very hard to tell Maggie no. He supposed it was because he felt somewhat sorry for her, though he knew there was more to it then pity or guilt.
“Simon had something to take care of tonight. So, he’ll be home late.” Awkwardly Andrews stood and dusted himself off. He held a hand out for her. “Now come along, before dinner gets cold.” Wordlessly Maggie took Andrews’ hand, allowing herself to be pulled up. “When Simon gets home, we’ll tell you about our day.”
*
There was a nip in the air that made Simon really regret not bringing a coat with him. The other big regret of the night was that he had snapped in the restaurant. But, it wasn’t as if it were his fault. They were the ones that had stared at him as he had torn his steak apart. It wasn’t his fault that some of the blood lust had remained from the night before. And, it really wasn’t their place to judge.
And-
“Oh look, it’s a puppy. Been a while since I’ve seen one of ‘em.” An accented voice said somewhere behind Simon.
Before Simon could even turn around or come up with a snappy come back, he felt himself being pushed into an alleyway. Barely registering that, Simon felt the fists and feet on his back and stomach. A moment later, he was down on the ground, trying to cover his head, when he heard the laughter.
“What’s the matter, Dog? Can’t take it?” A new voice laughed manically. “Come on, Doggy – fight back. It’s no fun killing you - if you don’t fight back.”
Simon felt a growl rising in his throat, but he couldn’t move. He could smell what these men
really were, and what the men were, well, that scared some primitive part of him that Simon had previously been unaware of. It was the Wolf, that much Simon knew. The Wolf inside him – the one he had tried to bury – was scared; the Wolf inside was also fighting to get out. But, he couldn’t risk it. He didn’t know who else was around; hell, he wasn’t even sure he could let the Wolf take over. All Simon could to do was shield his head from their blows.
And then, like magic – it all stopped. Simon could hear some struggling and a few angry phrases in a language he didn't know and that was it. There was nothing, just -
“Do you plan on staying down there all night?” an unfamiliar voice questioned.
Slowly Simon opened one eye, and then another. He felt a slight pain above his right eye – it had been cut by a boot. Simon couldn’t even remember the boot hitting him. He had felt a sharp pain, but – he reached up and touched his bloody face. Slowly pain spread through his body, each movement making it worse. Lifting his gaze, Simon found himself facing a pair of combat boots and ripped jeans. The legs, Simon guessed, belonged to the speaker.
“Could I get some help?” He tried not to sound annoyed, but Simon was sure that he sounded it. A pale hand in fingerless gloves reached down and yanked Simon up by the arm. Despite himself, Simon let out a loud yell of pain. “Watch it!” Before Simon could pull away from the man holding him up, he felt a weakness in his knees. He knew that it he tried to move away from the man, he'd fall.
“Careful.”
Simon shook his head, before taking a long and hard look at the person holding him up. A man in his early thirties, dark eyes and hair. Dark and expensive looking coat and scarf, tall and broad. The guy's skin was also unnaturally cold, like he had just come out of a freezer. “Who – how did you -” Simon shook his head again. “What the hell. . .” Simon trailed off, the world around him going dark.
*
After he finished eating and they finished cleaning up, Andrews and Maggie moved into the parlor. Maggie picked up her needles and yarn, but before she could begin her work, Andrews placed a hand on hers.
“Before that, did you go away today?” Andrews kept his voice as calm as possible. He didn't want to scare her, but it was something he had to ask daily. The truth was, Andrews had no idea what going away was or even how to properly care for Maggie. He hadn't overheard those bits when his uncle had spoken to Andrews' older brother about the family “duty,” - it was why he documented everything about Maggie. If he could figure out when and why she'd “go away,”, then maybe he could help her figure out who or what she truly was.
Keeping her eyes glued to her yarn, Maggie muttered; “My hand felt wet. My throat hurt.”
“Like you screamed?” Andrews pressed gently.
Slowly she nodded. “Like I screamed.” Nervously she looked up, her eyes locking onto his. “I don't know where I went or why. It wasn't scary and I'm fine now. Really, Douglas, you can go to work tomorrow; you and Simon.”
“That doesn't matter now. You must have gone back to before.”
“When I was in the stone box,” Maggie stated softly.
Suddenly uncomfortable, Andrews nodded. He always felt uneasy when she discussed her old prison. “I'll write it down in the notebook and we'll figure things out later.” He patted her head. “Go fetch it for me, Maggie.”
She stood, handed him her needles and yarn, and quickly walked up the staircase, leaving Andrews alone with his thoughts. He wasn't alone with his thoughts for long though, before there was a loud banging at the door. A sudden feeling of uneasiness rose inside Andrews as he made his way to the front door.
Opening the door a crack, Andrews scowled; “Simon, what are you -”
“Simon's not really - open the door before he bleeds all over your steps,” an unfamiliar voice stated impatiently.
Without thinking, Andrews flung the door open to find Simon half-conscious, his work uniform covered in dark mud and blood stains. Simon’s right eye was cut, and dried blood had made its way down his cheek. His lip appeared to be busted open, and Andrews was sure he’d find bruises on Simon’s stomach. Simon was being held by a strange man in dark clothing; clothing that made him look like a young professional. But, there was something off about the man’s dark eyes, something foreboding. “Inside,” Andrews quickly grabbed hold of Simon's free arm and held the stranger bring Simon inside the hallway.
Awkwardly, Andrews closed the door with his foot. Barely thinking, Andrews led the stranger and Simon into the parlor. They placed a groaning Simon onto the sofa, his body crushing Maggie’s yarn.
“What happened?” Andrews asked, though he wasn't sure who he was asking.
“What do you think happened?” Simon muttered, holding his stomach. “I was jumped and this guy,” he nodded toward the man who had helped him inside. “brought me here. I gave directions in between black outs.”
“Thank you for helping.” Andrews smiled politely. “But, I'm afraid you really must go now. If you leave your phone number, I could call and we could meet tomorrow and -”
The man raised up his hands. “I'm not looking for anything. I was just doing a good deed.”
“Yes, but. . .”Andrews let his words fall away. He could feel her in the doorway, even though his back was to her. “Maggie.”
Simon's head snapped toward the doorway. He was frozen in place, unsure of what to do or say. He could feel something rising in his throat, but he couldn’t get the words out. For his part, Andrews had rushed over to Maggie and tried to drag her away, but Maggie stood firm in her place.
“It's okay, Douglas.” Maggie's eyes were firmly locked with the strange man's. “He doesn't hurt me.” She smiled sadly. “I told you not to go outside on New Year's Eve, James Warren.”
“Maggie.” Andrews looked from Maggie to the man – James Warren – and back again.
“It's okay, Douglas.” Maggie repeated. “He doesn't hurt me. He's already dead.”
-End Story One-
Story Two Coming Soon
Story: Surely Someday
Piece Title: Here: Part Three
Colors: Heart Gold: 5. Love is an energy which exists of itself. It is its own value. - Thornton Wilder;Tardis Blue: 1. You can always judge a man by the quality of his enemies.
Supplies and Materials: none
Word Count: 2,152
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: an attack on a werewolf that has parallels to a gay bashing.
Summary:Andrews and Maggie discuss her day. Simon is saved by an unknown man. Maggie meets someone new.
When Andrews opened the old metal door of his home, he wasn’t the least bit surprised to find Maggie absent. She usually wandered upstairs during the afternoon hours. A quick peek in the kitchen revealed itself to be freshly cleaned; a large meal of turkey and green beans set neatly on the wooden table. The smell of the turkey mixed with the scent of fresh pine, making the whole kitchen smell like, what Andrews supposed an outdoor picnic was like.
A spotless parlor was across the hall. The only evidence that someone had been there was the messy pile of yellow yarn and knitting needles that were set on the sofa. A quick scan let Andrews see that Maggie had straighten the whole room up; Simon’s magazines sat neat on the table in front of the sofa. Andrews own books were stacked lopsidedly on the floor beside the small television stand. The television itself was on mute, and an old episode of Doctor Who was playing to an audience of books and yarn.
Maggie had, it appeared, had a good day. A day of cleaning and cooking and no upsetting moments of ‘going away’; going away’ was what Maggie called it when she got a far off look in her eyes. She’d scream or talk to herself, holding whole one-sided conversations about people and events she may or may not have known. Those were the moments that always scared Andrews. Those were the moments that he wished he hadn’t run away with her.
“Maggie?” he called out even as he began walking up the narrow staircase. A quick glance around told him that she wasn’t in any of the three bedrooms or in the bathroom. That only left one place – the attic. Her usual afternoon spot.
For the last few years – for as long as they had lived in the house – the attic had been Maggie’s special place. She kept everything up there, neatly lined up in rows against the walls. There were books, pictures, dolls and stuffed animals, puzzles, games, chests full of clothing, even a tiny red television, all of it bought by Andrews to make Maggie feel more normal and less lonely.
Opening the door to the attic, Andrews called out for Maggie once again. Walking up the stairs to the attic, Andrews could hear the faint sounds of Maggie’s voice whispering to herself. For the briefest of moments a fear rose inside Andrews that Maggie had ‘gone away’ again. Reaching the top of the stairs, Andrews felt his fear melt away – she was simply reading to herself. Listening closely, Andrews tried to figure out just what she was reading. It seemed like a children’s book, but –
“It’s Roly-Poly Man and Puddin’ Head Go to The Zoo.” Maggie answered, before glancing up at Andrews.
Roly-Poly Man and Puddin’ Head was a series of childrens' books about a large man and his basset hound called Puddin’ Head. The books usually involved the duo going to places in their small village or doing daily activities. The series was Maggie’s favorite.
“You brought me gifts?” Maggie asked with a mischievous smile.
“Don’t I always?” Settling down beside Maggie on the wooden floor, Andrews opened the first of his four shopping bags. “Five French films – the newest releases, of course. They’re due back at the shop in two days, but I’m sure you’ll finish before then.”
Andrews smiled slightly as he opened the second bag. Inside were two dresses; one dark blue and one light pink, both were frilly things with lots of lace. Andrews had bought them from a vintage store down the street; Maggie liked the older dresses. From the third shopping bag, he pulled out a ball of bright red yarn. Finally, Andrews opened the last shopping bag, pulling out three large novels and a children’s' book. “The newest Roly-Poly Man and a bit of European history; they should keep you busy for the next couple of days.”
Running a pale hand over the lacy sleeves of the blue dress, Maggie giggled softly to herself. “It’s all so pretty, Douglas.”
Andrews patted her hand. “Yes. Now, shall we go downstairs? I’m starving.”
“Well,” pausing in thought, Maggie momentarily chewed on her lower lip. “where is Simon? You can’t eat without him.”
“Maggie.”
“Douglas.”
One look at her and Andrews knew there was no point in arguing. He just couldn’t when she gave that little pout; her eyes determined. Maggie held the idea that she, Andrews, and Simon were a family, and they had to do things together. Things like eating meals. In truth it was a bit of a pain, but Andrews found it very hard to tell Maggie no. He supposed it was because he felt somewhat sorry for her, though he knew there was more to it then pity or guilt.
“Simon had something to take care of tonight. So, he’ll be home late.” Awkwardly Andrews stood and dusted himself off. He held a hand out for her. “Now come along, before dinner gets cold.” Wordlessly Maggie took Andrews’ hand, allowing herself to be pulled up. “When Simon gets home, we’ll tell you about our day.”
*
There was a nip in the air that made Simon really regret not bringing a coat with him. The other big regret of the night was that he had snapped in the restaurant. But, it wasn’t as if it were his fault. They were the ones that had stared at him as he had torn his steak apart. It wasn’t his fault that some of the blood lust had remained from the night before. And, it really wasn’t their place to judge.
And-
“Oh look, it’s a puppy. Been a while since I’ve seen one of ‘em.” An accented voice said somewhere behind Simon.
Before Simon could even turn around or come up with a snappy come back, he felt himself being pushed into an alleyway. Barely registering that, Simon felt the fists and feet on his back and stomach. A moment later, he was down on the ground, trying to cover his head, when he heard the laughter.
“What’s the matter, Dog? Can’t take it?” A new voice laughed manically. “Come on, Doggy – fight back. It’s no fun killing you - if you don’t fight back.”
Simon felt a growl rising in his throat, but he couldn’t move. He could smell what these men
really were, and what the men were, well, that scared some primitive part of him that Simon had previously been unaware of. It was the Wolf, that much Simon knew. The Wolf inside him – the one he had tried to bury – was scared; the Wolf inside was also fighting to get out. But, he couldn’t risk it. He didn’t know who else was around; hell, he wasn’t even sure he could let the Wolf take over. All Simon could to do was shield his head from their blows.
And then, like magic – it all stopped. Simon could hear some struggling and a few angry phrases in a language he didn't know and that was it. There was nothing, just -
“Do you plan on staying down there all night?” an unfamiliar voice questioned.
Slowly Simon opened one eye, and then another. He felt a slight pain above his right eye – it had been cut by a boot. Simon couldn’t even remember the boot hitting him. He had felt a sharp pain, but – he reached up and touched his bloody face. Slowly pain spread through his body, each movement making it worse. Lifting his gaze, Simon found himself facing a pair of combat boots and ripped jeans. The legs, Simon guessed, belonged to the speaker.
“Could I get some help?” He tried not to sound annoyed, but Simon was sure that he sounded it. A pale hand in fingerless gloves reached down and yanked Simon up by the arm. Despite himself, Simon let out a loud yell of pain. “Watch it!” Before Simon could pull away from the man holding him up, he felt a weakness in his knees. He knew that it he tried to move away from the man, he'd fall.
“Careful.”
Simon shook his head, before taking a long and hard look at the person holding him up. A man in his early thirties, dark eyes and hair. Dark and expensive looking coat and scarf, tall and broad. The guy's skin was also unnaturally cold, like he had just come out of a freezer. “Who – how did you -” Simon shook his head again. “What the hell. . .” Simon trailed off, the world around him going dark.
*
After he finished eating and they finished cleaning up, Andrews and Maggie moved into the parlor. Maggie picked up her needles and yarn, but before she could begin her work, Andrews placed a hand on hers.
“Before that, did you go away today?” Andrews kept his voice as calm as possible. He didn't want to scare her, but it was something he had to ask daily. The truth was, Andrews had no idea what going away was or even how to properly care for Maggie. He hadn't overheard those bits when his uncle had spoken to Andrews' older brother about the family “duty,” - it was why he documented everything about Maggie. If he could figure out when and why she'd “go away,”, then maybe he could help her figure out who or what she truly was.
Keeping her eyes glued to her yarn, Maggie muttered; “My hand felt wet. My throat hurt.”
“Like you screamed?” Andrews pressed gently.
Slowly she nodded. “Like I screamed.” Nervously she looked up, her eyes locking onto his. “I don't know where I went or why. It wasn't scary and I'm fine now. Really, Douglas, you can go to work tomorrow; you and Simon.”
“That doesn't matter now. You must have gone back to before.”
“When I was in the stone box,” Maggie stated softly.
Suddenly uncomfortable, Andrews nodded. He always felt uneasy when she discussed her old prison. “I'll write it down in the notebook and we'll figure things out later.” He patted her head. “Go fetch it for me, Maggie.”
She stood, handed him her needles and yarn, and quickly walked up the staircase, leaving Andrews alone with his thoughts. He wasn't alone with his thoughts for long though, before there was a loud banging at the door. A sudden feeling of uneasiness rose inside Andrews as he made his way to the front door.
Opening the door a crack, Andrews scowled; “Simon, what are you -”
“Simon's not really - open the door before he bleeds all over your steps,” an unfamiliar voice stated impatiently.
Without thinking, Andrews flung the door open to find Simon half-conscious, his work uniform covered in dark mud and blood stains. Simon’s right eye was cut, and dried blood had made its way down his cheek. His lip appeared to be busted open, and Andrews was sure he’d find bruises on Simon’s stomach. Simon was being held by a strange man in dark clothing; clothing that made him look like a young professional. But, there was something off about the man’s dark eyes, something foreboding. “Inside,” Andrews quickly grabbed hold of Simon's free arm and held the stranger bring Simon inside the hallway.
Awkwardly, Andrews closed the door with his foot. Barely thinking, Andrews led the stranger and Simon into the parlor. They placed a groaning Simon onto the sofa, his body crushing Maggie’s yarn.
“What happened?” Andrews asked, though he wasn't sure who he was asking.
“What do you think happened?” Simon muttered, holding his stomach. “I was jumped and this guy,” he nodded toward the man who had helped him inside. “brought me here. I gave directions in between black outs.”
“Thank you for helping.” Andrews smiled politely. “But, I'm afraid you really must go now. If you leave your phone number, I could call and we could meet tomorrow and -”
The man raised up his hands. “I'm not looking for anything. I was just doing a good deed.”
“Yes, but. . .”Andrews let his words fall away. He could feel her in the doorway, even though his back was to her. “Maggie.”
Simon's head snapped toward the doorway. He was frozen in place, unsure of what to do or say. He could feel something rising in his throat, but he couldn’t get the words out. For his part, Andrews had rushed over to Maggie and tried to drag her away, but Maggie stood firm in her place.
“It's okay, Douglas.” Maggie's eyes were firmly locked with the strange man's. “He doesn't hurt me.” She smiled sadly. “I told you not to go outside on New Year's Eve, James Warren.”
“Maggie.” Andrews looked from Maggie to the man – James Warren – and back again.
“It's okay, Douglas.” Maggie repeated. “He doesn't hurt me. He's already dead.”
-End Story One-
Story Two Coming Soon
