FictionPress.com - let the words flow
| FictionPress.com - let the words flow |
|
| Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search | Login Register Extras |
ehm, this is an older fic i've had waiting for uploading for a while...i'm currently working on it, but the process is semi-slow. so there's not going to be any regular updates (not like for my other ones).
i'd still like to know what ya'll think about it. much appreciated.
Tuesday, 14 March, 2006. 3:01 pm.
It was the smell of frying potato wedges and sausage that rent the air of the cheery kitchen all done up in country blue and yellow patterns; pans and various wooden or metal utensils adorned every available surface. Hearty china with delicate blue floral patterns were precariously set upon the redwood table by a black-haired youth of about sixteen years of age, the clinks of the plates announcing his eager but good-hearted carelessness.
Instead of reprimanding him yet again, the woman standing at the stove merely turned his way and teasingly stated, “Child, get up those stairs and wake my son, and leave the table settin’ to me.”
He grinned easily; tossing back choppy bangs out of his navy blue eyes as he happily let the table alone as ordered. “Sure thing, Miss Randall, ‘cause breakfast shuh smells good.”
She smiled at him and wiped her hands upon a dishrag before opening the refrigerator and removing the plastic carton of generic brand orange juice, setting it down upon the table even as the youth dashed from the room and clunked up the old wooden stairs to the upper floor.
Lord, but that boy was up and over here before the sun even came up, most days. In all honesty, she had come to think of him as an extension of her family years ago; it’s a pity that his own family never had much to do with him, claiming that he was ‘crude and something of a nuisance’. He’s just a boy, like any other. A bit starved for attention most of the time, and a bit too eager to please, but he ‘ad a good heart nonetheless.
Still, she wished that boy would stop getting her son into those awful scrapes of theirs, the ones that seemed to follow along after those two like ticks to a hound. Clucking her tongue, the woman set about finishing up enough breakfast for the two teenaged boys and herself.
Meanwhile, the lanky boy made his way down the familiar hallway, passing colorfully papered walls hung with family photos. Some of them even included himself in their contents, something that was rare within his own home; his mother usually just had the school photos that they were required to get every year in those lower grades.
He did not ever deny that his family made him miserable most of the time, that he wished a gazillion times that he’d never lived through his premature birthing, or the disease that had very near killed him in infancy. But he’d deny until blue in the face that he was depressed and suicidal, that all his crazy stunts came from some innate urge to kill himself.
He loved living, loved what life had to give to him, every second of every day. He loved thrills, the fear and giddiness of life.
He found it hard to think things through before acting most of the time, and had an extremely tough time with following through when people told him to do things. The school psuedo-shrink called it Oppositional Disorder, or some shit like that. It basically meant that he balked under any forced authority and control. Well, that seemed right and fair ‘nough, to him, as what had authority ever done to him but to force power and rigid control over where it weren’t wanted?
There were some people, like Miss Randall, that he just naturally submitted to, as she never really forced her adult authority over him. She was never mean or spiteful, never chewed him out when he acted out against her. Just got all sad and disappointed with him, which was much, much worse as it caused him to feel like a right shitheel for actin’ that way to her. Basically, you treat him right decent, and that’s what you’ll get in return.
None of these things were on his mind as his fingers lazily trailed against the textured papered walls, where they then hooked against the doorframe of his best friend’s bedroom door as he let himself right in. Soft snores were coming from the rumpled up lump on the bed against the far wall, making the boy absently smile. Crossing the room, he paused and became abruptly serious as his eyes took the time to feast upon the sprawled form of the sinewy teenager still abed.
At sixteen ‘and three months’, the brunette boy showed definite promise for being ruggedly handsome, and had developing broad strength to his 5’7 frame. Toby’s eyes appreciatively slid over the half-visible face and down Matt’s back, where blankets partially obscured the view he had of a gently rounded posterior, a sight that made teeth sink into his lower lip as a familiar sheen of lust sprang up into his eyes.
But then he blinked, and his demeanor again became lighthearted, especially as he abruptly pounced upon the unsuspecting individual on the bed. A sleepy groan was all that met this action, the owner of said groan barely managing to flip over onto his back after shoving the body from his person.
“Matt, your Mum’s making breakfast a’ready.”
Crusted eyes peeped open and then again shut as a wide yawn erupted from deep in his chest.
“M’kay…m’up.” He slurred, even as he tried to fall back asleep.
“Ma-att….” This whine did nothing to rouse the boy in question, so Toby abruptly began bouncing up and down, jiggling his friend into admitting defeat and sitting up after pushing Toby off his bed and onto the floor without warning.
“Ow, barstid,” was the mild reaction, and Matt shook his head and grinned, swinging out of bed and crossing the room to his closet.
-
And in no time at all, the two were elbowing and shoving each other as they thundered down the stairs to the table, where they proceeded to clamber over who got to dig into the potatoes first. Until, that is, his mother exasperatedly produced another serving spoon and rapped her son upon the head with it. He blinked from momentary confusion, but then was beaming as he thanked her for the spoon, and they both began serving themselves potatoes. Pssht, boys.
“So, what will you two be doin’ today?”
They exchanged curious glances, and then Matt was saying, “Well, I thought we might go over to the Red River for a spell.”
His friend lit up, and a pleased smile crossed Matt’s face at having hit upon a great idea.
But his mother frowned, shaking her head slightly as she stated, “I never like it when you two boys go out there…it’s so far. What if something were to happen to one of you? Where would you be then, hm?”
“Aw, Mom…we’ll be alright, we always are.” Her son protested just before draining the last of his O.J. with vigor.
They then pushed from the table and made as to leave through the back door, but there was a sudden call of, “Nuh-uh-uh! Get those kiesters back over here and clean my kitchen, afore you can go out.”
Raw pain malingered over Matt’s face, but he quailed under the force of his mother’s glare. Thus, with loud grumbles of protest, they quickly set things right and washed the dishes in record time.
Then, having no wish to be saddled with any more last-minute chores, they dashed from the house without waiting for her approval.
A sturdy mountain bike was leaning up against the back shed, and Matt got his own from out of the small building as well; they then hopped aboard and took off without a backward glance, not seeing the amused grin his mother had at seeing the fleeing forms of the two boys. Shaking her head once more, she set out to do some of the work she’d had in mind for a while; such as stripping her son’s bed for a thorough cleaning.
-
It was about an hour’s ride out to the river if you took the back roads, which mainly consisted of two tracks and general bike trails.
At one point, Matt slowed from where he was in the lead, telling Toby when the boy had glided to a halt at his side, “How ‘bout jumpin’ from the Track Bridge?”
Another broad grin and lit up eyes were the reply to this statement, accompanied by the boy’s, “Oh hell yeah!”
So that’s where they set themselves for. It took a bit longer to reach than their usual swimming point, but they did eventually make it, the sun just beginning to get warm. The bridge itself was a train track crossing the river, for when the trains still ran through their county some odd fifty years before. Now, it stood abandoned and in need of serious repair.
Nevertheless, the boys eagerly dumped their bikes upon the bank, as well as stripping off their shoes and t-shirts. They then walked out to about the middle of the bridge, where the water would be the deepest, and stood at the very edge looking over. The drop was a good twenty or thirty feet, and both boys instantly began to balk at the seemingly good proposal of jumping.
“Maybe it’s not such a great idea after all.”
Matt frowned at his best friend before snapping out, “Ya pussy, just fucking do it!”
An indescribable emotion passed through the boy’s eyes, and Matt was just about to say forget it and take the whole thing back, but his friend was already leaning forward with his arms spread…and then he was diving down at the water.
Horrified, Matt could already see that the angle was all wrong, just before the boy hit the water down below with an audible thwack…bobbing up for a moment before listlessly sinking back beneath the rippled surface.
Without even thinking, Matt dived off the side, plunging into the water in a perfectly executed dive…coming up for air with a gasping roar and turning panicked eyes around for his friend.
It was only three minutes worth of underwater search before he found the sunken body of his best friend, but those minutes proved to be as long as several hours to his mind.
He managed to drag Toby out of the water and up to the shore, fear gripping him at seeing the pale and lifeless body, the one that wasn’t breathing. He brought his ear to the chest, desperate for a heartbeat, but heard nothing at all. So, he pinched the boy’s nose shut and tilted the head back, before breathing into the mouth and inflating the lungs, and then attempting to start up the heart.
He did this until tears were openly streaking his face as hope died within him, and when he could no longer continue, he leaned over and openly sobbed into his best friends chest.
anyway, au' revoir! (eh, i think i mispelled that)