krazykitkat (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
krazykitkat) wrote2006-02-04 02:11 am
krazykitkat) wrote2006-02-04 02:11 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Apparently it was WIP Amnesty Day. These have been sitting around on my harddrive for a very long time...there are others but these are the two that are passable.
She kept the clippings in a box in the bottom drawer of her bedside table.
Not the copies highlighted and scrunched for briefings; these were unmarked
and touched only by her. They lay amongst frozen moments of triumph
and eulogies of impotence.
She carefully noted down the details before leaving on the work trip to
St. Paul.
***
A light warm breeze through the trees set shadows dancing across the
grass. She wandered up and down the rows, searching for the name.
The boy was honoured, a deliberate contrast to the manner of his death.
CJ dropped to her knees in front of the large stone surrounded by tributes
and added her own - a single white rose.
"Hello, Lowell," she whispered. "I wish I'd learnt your name under better
circumstances. Your parents and friends -- everyone said you were such
an amazing young man." CJ paused and removed her sunglasses. "I wanted
to meet you."
She sat quietly until a person approaching from her right attracted her
attention and she swore under her breath. Replacing her sunglasses, she
forced herself up and intercepted the intruder.
"What the hell do you think you're doing here? How dare you follow me.
I didn't issue a press invitation," she spat out.
The object of her attack held his hands up in placation. "Calm down, CJ."
She continued her advance, forcing him to walk backward. "Don't tell me
to calm down, Danny. You of all people should know this is important to
me. And I'm not going to have anyone make some cheap copy--"
"Hey!" He halted and she would've collided with his chest if he hadn't
braced his hand against her shoulder. "And you of all people should know
me better than that. Do you see a notebook? A photographer lurking behind
the headstones?"
She stepped back, breaking the contact, and inspected him. His eyes were
hidden behind sunglasses, but his disappointment in her reaction was etched
into his face. CJ removed her sunglasses in a gesture of...she had no idea
what, but it was the least she could do.
In a softer tone, she asked, "Why are you here?"
Removing his own glasses, he held up a simple bouquet of various white
flowers. "For the same reason you are." He then walked past her in the
direction of the grave.
She stood still for a minute before following.
-----------
Danny sat on her couch.
"Can I help you?"
Bleary eyes looked up at her. "I've lost her."
"Who?"
"My muse." He dropped his head back into his hands.
"Are you drunk?"
"Perfectly sober," he mumbled through his fingers. "Just don't ask me
to walk in a straight line."
"Why are you here then?"
"I thought you might know where she is. Or be able to help me find her."
"That's the worst pick up line I've heard in a long time." As well as the
only one.
He slowly raised his head and glared at her. "This is serious, CJ. I haven't
written anything and barely slept in...what day is it?"
"Friday." She watched as he tried to count on his fingers, deciding to help
him out as he stumbled. "Since when, Danny?"
"3:16 pm, Tuesday."
"You know the exact time?"
He waved his hand. "The little date thing mocks me."
She rested her backside on the front of her desk. "You should go home."
"I can't. Not until I find her."
"If you haven't found her by now--"
"Don't!" Danny exploded with the energy of a very small pinata. "Haven't
you been around Toby long enough to know you never say that? Throw
the salt over your shoulder and turn around three times." Drained, he
flopped back against the couch.
She kept the clippings in a box in the bottom drawer of her bedside table.
Not the copies highlighted and scrunched for briefings; these were unmarked
and touched only by her. They lay amongst frozen moments of triumph
and eulogies of impotence.
She carefully noted down the details before leaving on the work trip to
St. Paul.
***
A light warm breeze through the trees set shadows dancing across the
grass. She wandered up and down the rows, searching for the name.
The boy was honoured, a deliberate contrast to the manner of his death.
CJ dropped to her knees in front of the large stone surrounded by tributes
and added her own - a single white rose.
"Hello, Lowell," she whispered. "I wish I'd learnt your name under better
circumstances. Your parents and friends -- everyone said you were such
an amazing young man." CJ paused and removed her sunglasses. "I wanted
to meet you."
She sat quietly until a person approaching from her right attracted her
attention and she swore under her breath. Replacing her sunglasses, she
forced herself up and intercepted the intruder.
"What the hell do you think you're doing here? How dare you follow me.
I didn't issue a press invitation," she spat out.
The object of her attack held his hands up in placation. "Calm down, CJ."
She continued her advance, forcing him to walk backward. "Don't tell me
to calm down, Danny. You of all people should know this is important to
me. And I'm not going to have anyone make some cheap copy--"
"Hey!" He halted and she would've collided with his chest if he hadn't
braced his hand against her shoulder. "And you of all people should know
me better than that. Do you see a notebook? A photographer lurking behind
the headstones?"
She stepped back, breaking the contact, and inspected him. His eyes were
hidden behind sunglasses, but his disappointment in her reaction was etched
into his face. CJ removed her sunglasses in a gesture of...she had no idea
what, but it was the least she could do.
In a softer tone, she asked, "Why are you here?"
Removing his own glasses, he held up a simple bouquet of various white
flowers. "For the same reason you are." He then walked past her in the
direction of the grave.
She stood still for a minute before following.
-----------
Danny sat on her couch.
"Can I help you?"
Bleary eyes looked up at her. "I've lost her."
"Who?"
"My muse." He dropped his head back into his hands.
"Are you drunk?"
"Perfectly sober," he mumbled through his fingers. "Just don't ask me
to walk in a straight line."
"Why are you here then?"
"I thought you might know where she is. Or be able to help me find her."
"That's the worst pick up line I've heard in a long time." As well as the
only one.
He slowly raised his head and glared at her. "This is serious, CJ. I haven't
written anything and barely slept in...what day is it?"
"Friday." She watched as he tried to count on his fingers, deciding to help
him out as he stumbled. "Since when, Danny?"
"3:16 pm, Tuesday."
"You know the exact time?"
He waved his hand. "The little date thing mocks me."
She rested her backside on the front of her desk. "You should go home."
"I can't. Not until I find her."
"If you haven't found her by now--"
"Don't!" Danny exploded with the energy of a very small pinata. "Haven't
you been around Toby long enough to know you never say that? Throw
the salt over your shoulder and turn around three times." Drained, he
flopped back against the couch.