Post by Asila on Nov 2, 2011 0:16:16 GMT -5
((This is the start of my short story. The coyote will reappear, my mother and Ron both make a cameo appearance (they deserve a little infamy) and the three sections are increasingly poorly developed as they get further into the story. I spent the most time on the first fragment. Other than that, it might as well be noted that Aileen is everything I wish I was, but Jake is truer to who I actually was. Aileen's place in the events, however, is based on where I stood when shit hit the fan.))
Aileen first saw the local harbinger of death when she was leaf-blowing her grandpa’s deck clear of dead foliage. She had spent the previous couple of hours navigating multiple rooftops on the ailing property, a faithful warrior in her grandpa’s campaign against the descending autumn leaves. Wielding the electric leaf blower with confidence, she cleared the final battleground standing only a foot above the earth. Leaves leapt and scattered with frenzied desperation through the wooden railings of the deck until all but a few inconsequential stragglers had been cleared from the weathered planks.
Victorious, Aileen shut off the leaf blower and drew in a slow, deep breath. The autumn air tasted wonderful, making her think of pumpkin spice cappuccinos siphoned from cheap gas station machines and the wild lighting of haunted houses. She looked up from the boards she had just cleared to admire the fiery tones of the leaves that clung doggedly still to the trees when she saw her, there, at the corner of the property. Staring.
She stared back. The creature was just as she had been reported in the stories of the locals. She resembled a coyote, but no coyote she’d ever seen had such pure white fur. Fur that shimmered with gold in the late-afternoon sun, like the palest fire. Se had the strangest mis-matched eyes. One gold, as would be expected of a coyote; the other a bright brown that appeared orange in the amber lighting. Orange and hot amber, the color of an inferno. The longer Aileen stared, the brighter Hell blazed in those feral eyes. She wondered if Harbinger could see hell in hers, too.
If all of the rumors she’d been hearing were true, Harbinger was only sighted when hovering around an individual whose life was nearing a traumatic end. She had been around the Kessler’s daughter for two weeks before a large truck lost traction on black ice and crushed her between its grill and the dented railings of Midoak’s only bridge. Johnny Eldritch was graced with Harbinger’s company for two months, until a spark ignited him in a ball of flame one day when he was filling the gas tank of his bright yellow jeep. Then there was the Leijon boy. They never were able to recover all of him. Of course, Aileen had thought these stories were a product of everyone’s imagination. At least, she thought the Harbinger part was an add-on included by townspeople who too clearly remembered the original town legend. The horrendous deaths were real enough.
There was a legend as old as this town about a white coyote that had been sent from the ancient spirit world to reap revenge upon those vile individuals who had done some great injustice within their life. These people were too cruel for the natural world to suffer, so the Coyote Spirit of the surrounding forest thought it best to remove such villains from existence. After all, there was a strong sense of unity among living things here, and one horrible individual is capable of corrupting numerous others with terrifying consistency.
Ten years ago, when the tragedies had begun, it was only natural that the superstitious townspeople had tagged on a sighting of the Coyote Spirit to make those awful events more mysterious. As well as more palatable thanks to the entertainment value. The only harm done by such stories was the Coyote Spirit’s fall from guardian spirit to Harbinger of death.
As she studied Harbinger as the coyote studied her, she was grateful to have been wrong about the true reality of the stories. Even though being wrong meant her life just may be in jeopardy. After all, there was nothing more important than living life to the fullest, and what could possibly be more exciting than finding oneself in the company of an otherworldly being?
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Aileen said to Harbinger, “And I hope for your sake that you aren’t here for me. I have too much to do. You know, vengeance to follow through with. Battles that need winning. You have no idea how much I hate my mother-"
Harbinger turned and loped away, leaving Aileen with her words. She set her leaf blower down and watched her go, wondering if scaring death into retreat would be useful in a resume. Doubtful.
What truly useful survival skill ever was?
None, really. Shrugging off this frustrating truth, Aileen pulled out her cell phone so that she could check the time. It was ten after five. Her mother’s boyfriend would be arriving soon, and the report cards had arrived today. She had done just fine, as she always did. Schoolwork was a safe task that she assigned to her restless mind in order to keep it from imploding. Such desperate energy served her well when she applied it efficiently. Her brother, however, was of a different mind and the struggle that was their life reflected badly in his grades. The atmosphere at the house they lived in would be a tense one, and Aileen had to make sure she was there for her brother. Things were likely to get out of hand, and if they did, she had to be the one to put a stop to it.
Aileen closed her phone with a decisive snap, reported her progress to her grandfather, and left his home at a brisk pace.
***
Closing in on the house, she could hear shouting. With every muscle so tense her entire body quivered like a strung arrow, Aileen prowled up the porch steps and pulled open the front door. Across the room, her mother’s gorilla of a boyfriend had cornered her younger brother. The man, Ron to her mother and Dumb Ape to her, was in the process of informing Jake that he was an idiot and absolutely worthless. In his hand he held the crumpled up report card that was his proof.
Aileen had entered too quietly for either Ron or her mother (who was observing Ron’s drill sergeant routine as though she were judge and jury to her boyfriend’s executioner) to notice her, so she retreated, gently closing the door behind her. She reentered immediately, this time throwing her weight forward with enough force to send the door slamming into the wall. When it bounced back it revealed a large hole in the ugly, puke neutral paint job.
It was a lot like waving a red flag at a bull. Better red than white. Aileen had made her entrance. When Ron rounded on her, her head had sunk low on her shoulders, her legs cemented her into a crouch, and her hands had curled into fists. This was warfare, and Ron wasn’t the only one who knew how to wage it. She was a warrior to her very core. A survivor. It was in her nature. This bastard couldn’t even begin to fathom what he was up against. Like so many, all he saw was a pretty face and so he had assumed there was nothing more than a frivolous floosy within.
“What the FUCK is your problem?” He shouted.
“What the MANBALLS is yours?” If he was going to turn sex into an act of brutality, then she would take his parts and make them sound just as disgusting. She was all about fighting the status quo. It was more than a phase.
In the corner, Jake uttered a strangled laugh, startled into a weak fit of hilarity by her vulgarity.
Aileen smirked.
“You think that’s cute? It’s trashy, is what it is. Is that what you want to be, Aileen? A worthless piece of shit?”
Aileen arced an eyebrow. “You know what I think, Ron? I think that you’re such a worthless piece of shit yourself that your opinion on what a worthless piece of shit is isn’t worth a god damn thing.”
Her mother gasped, as though shocked by her daughter’s conduct. Aileen rolled her eyes. Figures the woman would be more concerned about the feelings of her man than those of her children. “Aileen! Show some respect!”
“Uh, no? Not ever? Maybe when you actually do something to earn it for once.” Aileen turns her attention to her brother. “Let’s go, Jake. You haven’t done anything to deserve this bullshit. Neither one of us has.” This last she aims sharply at her mother and Dumb Ape.
Jake moves to follow her out of the house, but Ron stalks forward with body language that screams violence. Instinctually, Aileen grabs a heavy glass paperweight off of the entertainment center. When a creature tries to menace a person, the best thing to do is look too scary to be worth menacing. It was a primal rule, and one she knew well. “Back off, Ron. Oh, you could try to hurt me, but I promise you I’ll take the bruises to the police. Good luck forcing either one of us to stay against our will any longer when that happens.”
“You mouthy, worthless brat-“
“GOODBYE, RON.” Aileen shouted over him. She shut the door behind Jake and her loudly, like an exclamation point.
***
“I hate this.” Jake said, sending a sideways glance in his older sister’s direction. They were walking across a field, following indiscreet paths back to their grandfather's house. They'd learned months ago that if they took the roads, they would be intercepted. “I hate that it always has to be like this, with the two of them always taking things way too far.”
Aileen shrugs. “It’s the way things have to be. We aren’t exactly free to leave. We’re minors. We don’t have any more right to our lives than the couch in the living room has to its own.”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t always have to be you, you know.”
“There isn’t anyone else, Jake. We’ve been over this.”
“Yes, there is. I’m a part of this too. You could have let me handle them.”
Aileen arced an eyebrow. “You’ll just try to reason with them.”
“Does it ever cross your mind that reasoning with people is the better approach?”
“Sure it is, when the people in question can be reasoned with. But the power balance has to be even for that to happen. So until that day comes, it’s all about the civil disobedience. You see it in history over and over. The same patterns apply to our situation, too.”
((This segment isn't finished. It's the one I started most recently and I wrote it very quickly.))
Aileen first saw the local harbinger of death when she was leaf-blowing her grandpa’s deck clear of dead foliage. She had spent the previous couple of hours navigating multiple rooftops on the ailing property, a faithful warrior in her grandpa’s campaign against the descending autumn leaves. Wielding the electric leaf blower with confidence, she cleared the final battleground standing only a foot above the earth. Leaves leapt and scattered with frenzied desperation through the wooden railings of the deck until all but a few inconsequential stragglers had been cleared from the weathered planks.
Victorious, Aileen shut off the leaf blower and drew in a slow, deep breath. The autumn air tasted wonderful, making her think of pumpkin spice cappuccinos siphoned from cheap gas station machines and the wild lighting of haunted houses. She looked up from the boards she had just cleared to admire the fiery tones of the leaves that clung doggedly still to the trees when she saw her, there, at the corner of the property. Staring.
She stared back. The creature was just as she had been reported in the stories of the locals. She resembled a coyote, but no coyote she’d ever seen had such pure white fur. Fur that shimmered with gold in the late-afternoon sun, like the palest fire. Se had the strangest mis-matched eyes. One gold, as would be expected of a coyote; the other a bright brown that appeared orange in the amber lighting. Orange and hot amber, the color of an inferno. The longer Aileen stared, the brighter Hell blazed in those feral eyes. She wondered if Harbinger could see hell in hers, too.
If all of the rumors she’d been hearing were true, Harbinger was only sighted when hovering around an individual whose life was nearing a traumatic end. She had been around the Kessler’s daughter for two weeks before a large truck lost traction on black ice and crushed her between its grill and the dented railings of Midoak’s only bridge. Johnny Eldritch was graced with Harbinger’s company for two months, until a spark ignited him in a ball of flame one day when he was filling the gas tank of his bright yellow jeep. Then there was the Leijon boy. They never were able to recover all of him. Of course, Aileen had thought these stories were a product of everyone’s imagination. At least, she thought the Harbinger part was an add-on included by townspeople who too clearly remembered the original town legend. The horrendous deaths were real enough.
There was a legend as old as this town about a white coyote that had been sent from the ancient spirit world to reap revenge upon those vile individuals who had done some great injustice within their life. These people were too cruel for the natural world to suffer, so the Coyote Spirit of the surrounding forest thought it best to remove such villains from existence. After all, there was a strong sense of unity among living things here, and one horrible individual is capable of corrupting numerous others with terrifying consistency.
Ten years ago, when the tragedies had begun, it was only natural that the superstitious townspeople had tagged on a sighting of the Coyote Spirit to make those awful events more mysterious. As well as more palatable thanks to the entertainment value. The only harm done by such stories was the Coyote Spirit’s fall from guardian spirit to Harbinger of death.
As she studied Harbinger as the coyote studied her, she was grateful to have been wrong about the true reality of the stories. Even though being wrong meant her life just may be in jeopardy. After all, there was nothing more important than living life to the fullest, and what could possibly be more exciting than finding oneself in the company of an otherworldly being?
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Aileen said to Harbinger, “And I hope for your sake that you aren’t here for me. I have too much to do. You know, vengeance to follow through with. Battles that need winning. You have no idea how much I hate my mother-"
Harbinger turned and loped away, leaving Aileen with her words. She set her leaf blower down and watched her go, wondering if scaring death into retreat would be useful in a resume. Doubtful.
What truly useful survival skill ever was?
None, really. Shrugging off this frustrating truth, Aileen pulled out her cell phone so that she could check the time. It was ten after five. Her mother’s boyfriend would be arriving soon, and the report cards had arrived today. She had done just fine, as she always did. Schoolwork was a safe task that she assigned to her restless mind in order to keep it from imploding. Such desperate energy served her well when she applied it efficiently. Her brother, however, was of a different mind and the struggle that was their life reflected badly in his grades. The atmosphere at the house they lived in would be a tense one, and Aileen had to make sure she was there for her brother. Things were likely to get out of hand, and if they did, she had to be the one to put a stop to it.
Aileen closed her phone with a decisive snap, reported her progress to her grandfather, and left his home at a brisk pace.
***
Closing in on the house, she could hear shouting. With every muscle so tense her entire body quivered like a strung arrow, Aileen prowled up the porch steps and pulled open the front door. Across the room, her mother’s gorilla of a boyfriend had cornered her younger brother. The man, Ron to her mother and Dumb Ape to her, was in the process of informing Jake that he was an idiot and absolutely worthless. In his hand he held the crumpled up report card that was his proof.
Aileen had entered too quietly for either Ron or her mother (who was observing Ron’s drill sergeant routine as though she were judge and jury to her boyfriend’s executioner) to notice her, so she retreated, gently closing the door behind her. She reentered immediately, this time throwing her weight forward with enough force to send the door slamming into the wall. When it bounced back it revealed a large hole in the ugly, puke neutral paint job.
It was a lot like waving a red flag at a bull. Better red than white. Aileen had made her entrance. When Ron rounded on her, her head had sunk low on her shoulders, her legs cemented her into a crouch, and her hands had curled into fists. This was warfare, and Ron wasn’t the only one who knew how to wage it. She was a warrior to her very core. A survivor. It was in her nature. This bastard couldn’t even begin to fathom what he was up against. Like so many, all he saw was a pretty face and so he had assumed there was nothing more than a frivolous floosy within.
“What the FUCK is your problem?” He shouted.
“What the MANBALLS is yours?” If he was going to turn sex into an act of brutality, then she would take his parts and make them sound just as disgusting. She was all about fighting the status quo. It was more than a phase.
In the corner, Jake uttered a strangled laugh, startled into a weak fit of hilarity by her vulgarity.
Aileen smirked.
“You think that’s cute? It’s trashy, is what it is. Is that what you want to be, Aileen? A worthless piece of shit?”
Aileen arced an eyebrow. “You know what I think, Ron? I think that you’re such a worthless piece of shit yourself that your opinion on what a worthless piece of shit is isn’t worth a god damn thing.”
Her mother gasped, as though shocked by her daughter’s conduct. Aileen rolled her eyes. Figures the woman would be more concerned about the feelings of her man than those of her children. “Aileen! Show some respect!”
“Uh, no? Not ever? Maybe when you actually do something to earn it for once.” Aileen turns her attention to her brother. “Let’s go, Jake. You haven’t done anything to deserve this bullshit. Neither one of us has.” This last she aims sharply at her mother and Dumb Ape.
Jake moves to follow her out of the house, but Ron stalks forward with body language that screams violence. Instinctually, Aileen grabs a heavy glass paperweight off of the entertainment center. When a creature tries to menace a person, the best thing to do is look too scary to be worth menacing. It was a primal rule, and one she knew well. “Back off, Ron. Oh, you could try to hurt me, but I promise you I’ll take the bruises to the police. Good luck forcing either one of us to stay against our will any longer when that happens.”
“You mouthy, worthless brat-“
“GOODBYE, RON.” Aileen shouted over him. She shut the door behind Jake and her loudly, like an exclamation point.
***
“I hate this.” Jake said, sending a sideways glance in his older sister’s direction. They were walking across a field, following indiscreet paths back to their grandfather's house. They'd learned months ago that if they took the roads, they would be intercepted. “I hate that it always has to be like this, with the two of them always taking things way too far.”
Aileen shrugs. “It’s the way things have to be. We aren’t exactly free to leave. We’re minors. We don’t have any more right to our lives than the couch in the living room has to its own.”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t always have to be you, you know.”
“There isn’t anyone else, Jake. We’ve been over this.”
“Yes, there is. I’m a part of this too. You could have let me handle them.”
Aileen arced an eyebrow. “You’ll just try to reason with them.”
“Does it ever cross your mind that reasoning with people is the better approach?”
“Sure it is, when the people in question can be reasoned with. But the power balance has to be even for that to happen. So until that day comes, it’s all about the civil disobedience. You see it in history over and over. The same patterns apply to our situation, too.”
((This segment isn't finished. It's the one I started most recently and I wrote it very quickly.))