One and the Same 8

This is it for One and the Same. I'm still working on what to post next so we'll see if I add anything next month.

One and the Same

8

    There's a snap from a foot landing on a twig. Albert tenses looks towards the sound. Rosey bristles and gives a low growl. Charlotte springs from the side of the house, brimming with excitement, "I knew you'd be here."

    Albert sighs and starts putting the box back together. "Did you come to yell at me again or are you visiting your parents for once?" Margie lays back down but keeps her eyes on Charlotte and Rosey scoots closer to him.

    Charlotte ignores his biting question and stomps up the steps. She raises an eyebrow at the box, "You managed to steal the box from your dad, congratulations. Are her letters just like what you remember them to be?"

    he sets the box in the open space on the swing so she won't sit down, and stares at her. "Is that really what you want to know? Are you sure you don't want to ask if reading them has changed my mind about your cause."

    Her face reddens, "Well...I mean... You haven't read them in so long. I thought..." Her voice petters out.

    He sighs and stands up. Of course, that's what she's here for. It's been a long time since she actually took an  interest in his life. "Yes, they are like I remembered and I'm no suddenly going to have a change of heart."

    Charlotte's eyes are like ice, "You're so cold, Al."

    He snorts and returns his line, "And you let emotions dictate every decision you make."

    "At least I have them!" She yells, startling the dogs.

    "And yet the only one you seem to be able to tap into lately is anger!"

    "One of us has to be angry at this unfair world!"

    "I never said I wasn't angry!"

    "Well then you sure don't show it! You may as well be a stone wall for all you show me. You have been ever since--" She snaps her mouth shut.

    So she was going there. He glares at her, "Ever since what? ever since we got a notification of death in the same envelope as a blood-soaked letter! I wasn't even thirteen, did you expect me to be the same after that?"

"That doesn't mean you have to keep your heart locked away! I'm not going to know how to help you if you doesn't tell me!"

    "Help me?" he laughs but he's not smiling. He would believe she cared once she showed some actual concern. "so you do think about helping other people and not just wrecking lives."

    She bristles, "Don't you DARE judge me! I'm at least doing something, unlike you. For all your suspicions about the war and your mother's death but you don't do anything but search through old papers!"

    "So I should be doing what you did today? Taking out my anger on those who have nothing to do with it! Demolishing property of regular people. People like you and me!"

    They glare at each other breathing hard from the yelling, their voices lingering in the air. The dogs stick closer to their master. Rosey with hackles raised is on the precipice of growling and Margie calmly watches Charlotte. Albert takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his hair. "Enough, I don't know what you thought would happen when you came." He turns and gathers up the box and his bag. If he looked at her, he knew they'd start screaming at each other again, "I can't and don't ever want to be like you. You claim to want change but all I see is you continuing the cycle. Have you ever considered what will come after you drag down those in power? Who is going to take their place? That organization you joined that claims to want peace?" He snorts and opens the door for the dogs to walk in before following them, "Maybe one day you can see beyond your own emotions."

    He could feel her glare trying to stab his back, "And maybe one day you'll learn to act instead of locking yourself in that house with all those old memories and whatever information your hoarding. I hope that when you're ready to act the world still cares enough to know."

    Albert shuts the door with a soft click as Charlotte's boots thump down the stairs.

 

 

⮘ Previous | Archive | 

One and the Same 7

 One and the Same

7

     What lays on top is a red-haired doll dirtied with time, that his dad has bought for him. The first Rosey a companion who would deliver his words to his mom in a far-off land. Albert smiles at it before setting it aside. A chain necklace is next, with the tags labeled "Angeline Wick", his mom had attached the circular engraving of Chael and Lorein his dad had given her on their wedding day. She had brought it knowing the government could stop them from bringing many things but they couldn't deny a traditional representation of the god and goddess of marriage and family. Albert sets the necklace next to the doll.

    The yellowed letters are the only thing left in the box. They're organized into two stacks one his dad wrote and the other is his mom's letters. His dad's letters are still in the neat stack his mom had bound together. Albert moves the stack onto his knees before turning to the set of papers lying flat at the bottom of the box. The writing on them is fading but he can still read his mom's quick hand. Albert gingerly moves each piece as he reads them. Each one is addressed to Sam and dated a few months apart. He stops at one that is dated almost a full year from the one before.

My Dear Sammy,

    The front is worse then I imagined. I never want to get use to seeing so much death, even the earth around us seems barren. We are lucky that our platoon is still whole but we have our share of injuries. Most are nothing serious, but Opal was too reckless and broke her leg trying to be a hero. Beth and I had to drag her back to camp while Edith, Rosanne and Minnie covered us. Edith scolded her from almost getting herself killed the while time she was getting medical attention.

    Rumors are circulation that we are being lied to, that this war is not expected to end, nor does the government plan to end it. In response they have sent our representatives to tell us what we are fighting for. The only one who believes his honeyed words is Opal. Luckily her leg will prevent her from doing something stupid in the near future. The rest of us just think of those we left, who pray for us, and wish for our safe return. Your letters of home give me the determination to keep me going.

    His eyes darken as they linger on the last paragraph. He leans back trying to push down his anger. He feels Margie's nose on his knee and looks down to see Margie nudging his dad's letters closer to the box. Albert smiles and pats Margie's head, "Thanks, Margie." She licks his hand before laying back down. Albert takes a deep breath and continues looking at the letters in the box. They continue to be dated far apart with only one or two in the same year. Each one is bleaker than the last. At the bottom of the box is a letter that stops mid-sentence. Dark red splatters trail from the top of the page blurring the black ink, leading to the reservoir covering the bottom. Albert stares at the page, his shoulders droop as weariness leaks out of him. Sadness gnaws its way through his heart but no tears fall as he trails his fingers down the blood-stained paper.

 

 

⮘ Previous | Archive | Next ⮚

***

The next post will be long because breaking it in two would mess up the flow of the argument.

       -Rose B.

One and the Same 6

 One and the Same

6

    Charlotte was the first kid my own age I played with. She spent a long time convincing me to play with her, and I could never understand how she could be so happy when our moms were far away. We were so different, which might be why I was drawn to her in the first place. She was one that pulled me out of my shell and the one that comforted me when Mom died. I suppose the progression of our relationship was natural, but our differences caught up to us eventually. She said she wanted to make a difference and joined a group of like-minded people. To me, it looked like they wanted to make an impact rather than trying to change anything. She couldn't, and still can't, understand how I can hate what they're doing. When you're taught that the greatest achievement you can get is on the battlefield and being killed while fighting is the most honorable way to die, then violence is the only thing they can think of when they try to create change.

    She tried to convert me to her cause and I tried to show her the problems with her way of thinking. She refused to see reason and could never forgive me for not being as passionate as her. We argued more and more until that was all we did. Our relationship crumbled until it was no longer repairable. She seemed hellbent on replacing Tutala as the goddess of chaos and war.

    I couldn't take it anymore. I moved out of our apartment and tried to move on, but she refused to let go. Even though we argue every time we meet, she continues to try and get me to join her in the violent, chaotic discord she creates.

    Albert sighs when they arrive at the familiar old, worn-out house. They go around back and climb the steps to a swing on the porch. Margie lays at his feet while Rosey jumps up next to him. His fingers trace the initials he carved into the arm of the swing when he was young.

AW SLW AW

AW SLW AW

AW SLW AW

    He closes his eyes and thinks about the work he has to finish for his degree, the papers on the bed upstairs that could point to who really killed his mother, and his dad sleeping in a building full of men just like him. His fingers still and he opens his eyes. He reaches into his bag and pulls out the shoe box. He carefully touches the top as he recalls opening it as a child, excited to see his mom's sharp brisk handwriting. Now, other things lay on top of the letters meant to comfort his dad when he looks through the box.

⮘ Previous | Archive | Next ⮚

One and the Same 5

 One and the Same

5

    Sam nods, his gaze moving into the distance, "There are always people like that, they think moving past the pain means forgetting about it. They get angry because they don't want others to forget either. But somethings it is necessary... it is necessary to..." Sam's voice trails off.

    Margie looks up as Sam stops moving. Albert sees the old man curl protectively around the box. It looks like he would fall apart at the slightest touch. Albert gently touches the frail shoulder his voice soft, "Dad?"

    The old man doesn't respond his face is devoid of any emotion, his eyes are cloudy.

    Albert face drains of color, as dread curls in his stomach, "Dad!"

    He shakes the man but life doesn't return to the body.

    Memories of blood flash in Albert's mind and he jumps towards the door.

    Margie whines as if urging Albert to hurry.

    "Attendant! I need assistance!" Albert yells into the hall.

    Two men in pink scrubs rush from a desk several doors down. Albert follows them into the room. His dad has already started clawing at his arms. Margie steps aside when she sees them and the nurses reach Sam just as he starts going for his face. Albert snatches the box from his dad's lap while they pull Sam up and move him to the bed. A woman in a white coat taps on a syringe as she enters. She quickly finds a vein on Sam's arm and injects him with a liquid. Margie nuzzles Albert's hand as they wait for the tranquilizer to kick in. He pets her but he can't stop thinking about how he almost let it happen again. When Sam's body relaxes, the men tuck him in while the woman leads Albert into the hallway.

    "It's best to let him rest for now." She pulls off her gloves, "He hasn't been sleeping well lately, thanks to those riots, so he probably won't wake up until this evening maybe not until late tonight. Go home, Mr. Wick, it looks like you need some sleep as well. When he wakes up we'll make sure he doesn't take a downward turn again."

⮘ Previous | Archive | Next ⮚

One and the Same 4

 One and the Same

4

    George breaks the silence Albert didn't realize was going on, "I've kept you long enough, and I'm sure you don't need me to tell you where he is."

    Albert nods and walks deeper into the building and stops at a plain door. A wooden plate hanging just below eye level reads Samuel L. Wick. Albert takes a deep breath and tries to get rid of any negative  thoughts. He glances down at the dogs before knocking. "Dad?"

    As Albert enters he sees a withered old man sitting in front of the television. His dad's face warms with life as he smiles at his visitor. His eyes clear ups as he recognizes his son, "Little Albert."

    Albert stiffens, it was never a good sign when his dad called him by his childhood endearment. He sits in the free chair, hoping his dad didn't think something was wrong. Albert looks at the beat-up shoe-box in the older man's lap. The box contained all the letter's his parents had exchanged as well as some mementos. Its used to reside in a closet of the family home but his dad couldn't bear to leave it behind when he came here. Albert forces his attention to the dogs, "I brought Margie and Rosey with me."

    Margie plants her head on his dad's knee. Doing what she can to comfort the old man. Sam smiles at her and strokes her fur, "Thank you for watching over my boy."

    Albert picks up the waiting Rosey, putting her on the chair next to him. On the TV, a reporter talks about a protest going on behind her. The background is filled with people dressed in black holding up signs and fists. Smoke drifts over streets covered in paint and broken glass. Sam's eyes sadden as they watch the crowd throw rocks not seeming to care who or what they hit. Albert sighs, knowing Charlotte has thrown some of those rocks. he just hopes she wasn't one of those dumb enough to throw them at the police. Not that it mattered since he wasn't going to be the one to bail her out of jail this time.

    Sam lightly touches the box, "They are so reckless and full of energy like Tutala herself is leading them into battle. It's the sort of energy we lose as we get older." Margie pushes her nose to Sam's arm and he goes back to petting her. "Their values sound similar to Charlotte's, is she with them?"

    Albert nods, "She wanted me to come too, even showed up at my door this morning."

    Sam shakes his head, "If she could see beyond her rage maybe she would find something to make her happy."

    Albert gets the feeling that statement was directed at him too, but he ignores it. The protestors move through the city like a landslide. Occasionally the camera shows the devastation they leave behind. "That...that won't happen anytime soon. Those who don't share her ideals, or don't feel the same level of hatred are enemies in her mind."

⮘ Previous | Archive | Next ⮚

One and the Same 3

 One and the Same

3

    The door shuts with a solid thud and Albert sinks to the floor. He was going to have to cancel his plans today, the protest was going to affect his Dad. He sighs and pushes his hand through his hair, maybe if he brought Margie she could keep his dad from spiraling.

    My first memory isn't of my parents or friends. It's seeing the black car pull up to our house, the one that everyone dreads seeing. Dad says that Mom acted like a true woman in response to the summons. she didn't cry just kissed us goodbye and promised to write before leaving. I would look forward to her letters but the longer the war dragged on the worse it was for my dad. He would stop mid-sentence and stare into the ether, and his smiles were tinged with sadness. He pulled into himself more and more, it got to the point where the only time he would leave the house was to visit the temple and pray for mom.

    When we were notified that she had died something inside him broke. He stopped smiling and for days was so deep in his own mind he wouldn't respond to Margie or me. If I left him alone he wouldn't move from the chair in his room. It could be considered a hard job for a child, but I had already taken on most of the responsibilities and there were days when he was almost back to the the dad I knew. If I wasn't there he might have just wasted away.

    Sometimes I wonder if that is what he would have preferred.

Albert opens the car door for the dogs and sighs at the sign that says Glenwood Springs Retirement Community. He knows the sign is supposed to be welcoming but all it does is remind Albert of his failure. He leads the dogs inside and greets the receptionist, "Hello George."

    "Welcome back Albert. Sam will be happy to see you."

    "Is today a bad day?"

    George sighs, "It's not the worst but it's not good either."

    Albert's heart sinks, he knew it. His dad had never been very good with conflict and these protests and riots had already caused the nurses to monitor him more, "I thought that might be the case, hopefully seeing the dogs will cheer him up." Albert looks at the dogs. Rosey is sniffing around the foyer while Margie calmly looks up at Albert. He can't help but think Margie knows how terrible of a day it will be. Albert silently sends a prayer to the side of Lorein responsible for widowers that his dad won't have to be put on suicide watch again.

⮘ Previous | Archive | Next ⮚

One and the Same 2

 One and the Same

2

    Albert sighs and opens the door wider with a shake of his head. She would just come to but him later anyway. As Charlotte steps inside Rosey growls get louder. Rosey never liked Charlotte, all she ever managed was tolerance. Albert pets the dog's head and she goes silent.

    "How is your dad doing?" Charlotte asks when he doesn't speak.

    "Don't pretend you care." Albert folds his arms over his chest, "We both know you aren't here to talk about my father's declining health."

    "I was just being polite."

    He didn't believe that for a moment but they could argue all night if he pushed her, "Let's get to the point, what requires you talking to me in the middle of the night under Yemth's protection."

    She flinches but her tone is indignant, "The protest won't take all day and you don't even have to be there for all of it."

    Not this again, how many times did this make? "I already gave you my answer, you can't convince me otherwise."

    "Why!" Her shriek starts Rosey growling again, "Your mother died in that stupid war and your dad--"

    "I know full well the devastation the war caused." He stops her, "Many people lost mothers, sisters, and wives and those that came home still have to live with the nightmares the war brought. I don't   wan tto be there when you create a place that belongs to Tutala."

    "You're over-exaggerating, we aren't creating a battlefield."

    "Do you think war is the only time she reigns?" He scoffs and opens the door, "Tell your excuses to the people who have to clean up after your protest. As long as you insist on creating chaos my answer won't change."

    Charlotte Scowls at him as she leaves, "Nothing will change if they don't understand how serious we are. If you were even half as brave as your mother you would stand up for your convictions."

    Her words dredged up memories of his dad crying. Albert's voice is low and harsh, "The letter we got with my mother's ashes described her in the same way."

⮘ Previous | Archive | Next ⮚

One and the Same 1

This is set in the same world as Our Condolences. This one is about a grown up Albert, and like any that takes place in this world, is a heavier story. I should warn there are mentions of violence and self-harm.

    -Rose B.

One and the Same

1

    Standing in the tall grass behind our house, I look up at the clouded sky and imagine Samth is so angry that it's affecting the weather. I hope Thuren calms her down; Dad is less sad when the sun is shining. I say to Margie, but her big fluffy head is turned to the house. I ran home. She must have been worried, she always knew when Dad was having a bad time, but she stayed with me like she was supposed to. My heart pounds in my ears, and extra weight settles into my bones. It feels like forever before we reach the stairs. I jump to the door and fling it open. Margie leaps through the door, leaving me behind. Dad! I yell, chasing after the furry tail.

    I shouldn't have left him alone. I should have kept an eye on him with how depressed he's been. I should have known something bad would happen with how he's been acting. Margie's whine leads me to the parlor. He's sitting on the ground looking like a broken doll, in front of him is a typed letter. My gut clenches. That pristine paper doesn't belong here; it must be a mistake. My gaze gravitates to the blood-soaked letter in my father's hands. Dad?

    As if my voice is the signal, people rush into the room. They crowd around my father, screaming things I can't understand. When a stretcher is brought in, my dad enters my vision again. The letters are gone, but he looks the same, an empty husk. Blood pools on the floor, falling from arms scratched to an unrecognizable mess. As they carry him off, the blood splashes on the floor with a bang.

    Albert jolts awake. Old military documents fly from the bed as a streak of fur bolts from the room. Albert groans, each bark a sharp stab to his brain. He pushes a palm against his forehead. "Rosey," His first shout is horse and thick with sleep. "Rosey!" His second shout is clearer. The barking is replaced by a low growl, that was as much as he was going to get out of her. Albert pushes at the bigger dog next to him, "Come on, Margie move." She rolls over in a huff, displacing more papers.

    Another knock cuts through the air as Albert is getting up. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" He replies before muttering, "My streak of sleepless nights continues." He fumbles his way through the dark to the front door and almost trips over Rosey. he picks up the dog and unlocks the door. He can't see much but he recognizes Charlotte's defiant stance.

    "Charlotte," He sighs.

    "Are you going to let me in?" She smiles like she always does when she wants something.

 

 

| Archive | Next ⮚

Killer King 7

This is the last of Killer King. I hoping to start the next one next month, but I started a new job and adult responsibilities has me a little overwhelmed so we'll see.

           -Rose B 

Killer King

    The room is silent as his voice fades. The attorney takes a quick look around then turns back to the man, "Why did you continue to stay with her, even after those experiences?"

    The man pulls out another tissue and dabs at his eyes, "I fell in love with the fire in her eyes and her cunning. After seeing her I couldn't imagine myself going back to that bar, back to that life. I didn't care what we were doing as long as I was with her."

    The attorney nods and turns to the Jury, "Ladies and gentle man of the jury. Jonathan Morris is not a crazed murderer. He was hard working even after he was with Lisa Jackson. He did his best to be with and please the woman he loved. he even tried to help the victims in the best way he could think of." He gestures to the man whose eyes are red, "As we all know Lisa Jackson, the main perpetrator, confessed to her crimes and lost her head for it. With his main reason to continue living the life of a murderer gone, there is no reason he should continue killing. He has already lost the woman he loves, is there any need to punish him more?"

    The man stands up, "To many of you I have lived long enough but if I had one more day I would be a better man. I can't promise to be the best citizen but I would be a better man than I've ever been."

***

    The man walks out of the courthouse in a maroon suit. he buttons his cuffs and adjusts his hat. Everyone on the street goes about their business, his trial forgotten in the months it took to get paperwork completed. A toothy grin splits his face. Not a single soul cared about his release but that would be their mistake. The worst predator is one people don't see coming.

    "Indeed," The man whispers, "And no predator is more harmful than one that has nothing to lose."

    We'll make the streets run red.

    "And the ones who betrayed us will know we are coming."

⮘ Previous | Archive |