An old collaboration | Saturday, March 04, 2006
Fedora. Hmm, I wonder how is my once-best-girl-friend. It's been ages since I talked to her. Kinda missed her crap...
*sigh* Long time since I discuss writing with Samuel and Fedora. And when was the last time you wrote, Samuel? Oh, on terrible hiatus! GRACE ME WITH YOUR WORK, SGLA! Without your words, how can I ever write better?
This story is written by three people. Samuel (perfectionist), Fedora (the great), Clement (0MG N00B), in sequence. But alas, laziness killed us all. We didn't complete our story, of course. Dear blogders, I am sure you can easily spot out the part I wrote.
(Sidenote: Samuel is four years younger than me)
Here it goes...
February 24th, 2017
Brooklyn, New York City
She sat bow-legged on the sturdy plastic top of the trolley bag. Her back was hunched forward to a great extent, to which the golden crucifix dangled freely from her pale neck. A mop of blackish-crimson hair adorned her scalp, and fell in a mess past her shoulders. More strand hung out from her fringe, obscuring her view. Her elbows rested on her thighs and she let her forearms hang.
Her jaw was slack, but pushed beyond the upper set of teeth to form a scowl. Clad in a black sweater and matching thick jeans, she looked just like any other Goth-obsessed teenager roaming the streets.
The facts were that this entire thing happened at around four a.m. in the morning, which is definitely not the approved time for healthy teenagers to do their business. Throw in the fact that it was a school day, and she was lugging around a travel bag practically bursting at the seams with clothes and other essential materials, accompanied by a worn-out guitar case leaning against the bag.
Which basically lead everyone to one conclusion.
She was running away from home.
She felt the stares creating an involuntary itch down her back, and so she turned around and gave the prying commuters the glare. They resumed whatever they seemed to be doing, that is, reading newspapers. In dim lighting.
She rolled her eyes and focused on the people giving her looks from the front. They started to imitate the ones seated behind, and raised their newspapers in front of their faces.
The train's onboard computer signaled the approaching stop. Slinging the guitar case over her shoulder, she extended the handle of the trolley bag, and sauntered out the exit, exuding a bare sense of superiority.
A swift flick of the thumb revealed the fluorescent interface of the cellphone. Depressing the button for the speed-dial, she pressed it to her ear. A drowsy voice answered the call.
-Hey ... Damien Exeter speaking… Who the hell is this…-
"You Norman's son?"
- Yeah… -
"Okay, listen, you take a left turn from the north exit, cross the street, then it's on the third floor of #84, right?"
- Well … yeah… No, exit from the south, not the north. -
She paused in her tracks, and grimaced. Glancing behind, she saw the flood of people, and almost no solution to squeeze a way through.
"Okay, well thanks. Bye." She answered, annoyed, and started to wade through the throng in hopes of getting to the apartment before sunrise. She'd been traveling on the subway for as long as two hours, and was feeling pretty damn weary by then. Didn't want the incandescent sunlight to bother her when she slept, anyway.
It was kind of exhilarating, escaping from the hellhole she'd always christened home. A part of her longed to go back, and live in comfort like she'd always did - scorned and discriminated by her single parent. But mostly she wanted to experience what life was like without financial support from an elder, and jam on her guitar without restraint. Norman had mentioned that the neighboring apartments were tolerant - to some extent - of hard rock.
It hadn't taken her too long to reach the teak door of the apartment. Having just been vacated, the interior was simple, yet well furnished. She bolted the wooden portal, and discarded her lifetime possessions in the small hallway leading to the main room.
She disappeared into the sole bedroom in the apartment, and shut the door behind her.
Muffled grumbles emanated from behind the door, before a loud, shriek of shock pierced the night air.
The door opened yet again, and the girl dragged the half-dead male out, disgust etched cleanly on her face. Pulling him up by his extremely lengthy ponytail, her foot found his ass as she did a tremendous dropkick worthy of some award.
The unfortunate male in question flushed in pain for a brief moment before his head collided with the plaster, and he sank into blissful blackness. The girl continued the merciless assault on his sides, thinking he was still dozing off.
She paused after a few moments of non-responsiveness from the other party. She bent down, and slapped his cheeks in a bid to wake him up.
"Hey! … Hey!"
He remained still as a rock, and she grimaced, before dragging him towards the living room via his armpits, muttering in incoherence.
---
The daylight was dazzling to his eyes, and he blinked them shut as he rose.
The scratchy leather he felt under his cotton shirt was most definitely not the down stuffing he'd felt in the bed. And his bedroom certainly never had a French window. He realized that he was draped rather unpleasantly over the couch, where someone had absently dragged and dumped him onto. Whatever happened to the soft mattress -
"FUCK!" - he yelled as his tailbone registered the damage dealt in a very agonizing way. His sides were numb, he noted disdainfully. Blue and black pockmarks lined his right side especially where someone had nailed him in the side many times with the tip of a shoe, hard. He winced a little as he got up from the couch, the nerves in his spine sending shockwaves of distress per angle lifted.
He part limped/part hunched over to the bedroom door, and thudded the side of his right fist on it, all the while slouching on the door because of his tiredness. His annoyance peaked when no one responded his call. Slamming his fist into the door, he snapped in a final shout of irritation, "Open the fu-"
And remembered why never to bother with doors that opened from the inside as the wooden frame crushed his nose with a sickening crunch.
"Mmmf!"
"What the hell!"
He staggered back, his right hand clamped over his nose. The girl flushed red with rage. She opened her mouth to say something, advancing towards him. It wasn't until a trickle of blood seeped through the lines between his tight fingers that she stopped.
" Oh … shit …" She groaned.
Moments later, they were huddled across each other, seated in an uncomfortable manner. The male's nose was stuffed with tissue, held in place by his right hand. Whereas the female had an unreadable expression on her face.
"Sooo," the male began, voice muffled a tad bit by the blockage in his nose. "Yeah," he ended kind of lamely.
"What the hell are you doing in this apartment," the female stated accusingly. The male simply scowled under his mask of cotton.
"Last I checked, this was-" He cut her off.
"No shit, Damien told me his family was moving out, and I could have this apartment for a thousand a month. They didn't include some PMS girl along with the package," he growled with a twinge of anger.
He chucked her his cell phone, which she caught deftly. "Call that idiot, and ask him what the hell happened. I'm gonna get a drink."
The girl narrowed her eyes dangerously and watched him as he got up, never once wavering in her gaze. Her hands worked mechanically on the buttons, and soon she was pressing the handphone to her ear. Her fingers drummed the arm of the couch noisily as he titled his head backward to stop the bleeding and tried to pour some water from a pitcher. He looked like he would fail miserably.
The annoying monotone of ringing was suddenly disrupted, and the sound of shuffling filled the earpiece. The same drowsy voice she had heard earlier on made its way through the connection.
" Yeah, what’s up? "
She scowled. " Damien Exeter I presume. " She said tightly.
" Yeah. Can I help you? " Damien seemed to wake up at the sound of her dead tone.
" Could you kindly explain to me why the hell is there a strange man in an apartment I paid a ridiculously large sum of money for, thinking that it was to be occupied solely by myself seeing as I am the one paying for it." She snapped without pause.
The male had managed to get his drink, and was still trying to staunch the blood. He leaned against the kitchen counter and waited for some conclusion to this stupidity.
Damien answered shakily, " Well…err. You see. The two of you kinda tied for the apartment and I figured hey, why not room you guys together. I mean everyone’s happy right? " he laughed nervously.
She could have smashed the phone right there and then. Her eyes flew shut and she whispered angrily into the receiver, " Asshole. " Before hitting the End Call button and tossing the device back to him. He barely managed to catch it and pocketed it carefully.
" So. " He said smugly, more a statement than a question.
She looked at him from under hooded eyes. "I will damage you permanently if you continue smirking at me."
He rolled his eyes in defiance. She let her anger flash past her face and then disappear, like a bird ruffling its feathers in agitation.
" The landlord rented both us of us the apartment. It’s mine as much as yours. "
He shrugged, voice sounding nasal thanks to the blob of reddening tissue covering his nose. " What’s that supposed to mean? "
" It means we got ripped off. Conned. Cheated. Made used of. Manipulated. " She gushed annoyedly.
He growled and bent back again, hoping the blood would stop spurting like a miniature fountain. " I can’t live for years in the same apartment as you. " He said darkly. " Just one night and I’m already beaten up. "
" You were in a room that was supposed to be mine. How can I not beat you up? " she replied just as darkly. They glared at each other, trying to kill each other with their intense stares.
He finally relented and threw away the wad of tissue. Apparently his nose had finally dried up, and he no longer needed to hold it together with his hand. Leaving the counter and walking back to the couch, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
" I don’t think this is going very far. " He stated.
She gave him a duh-look and leaned casually into the couch.
" You can take the bed. I’ll have the wonderful sofa until I think of something better. "
She raised one dark eyebrow at him and looked out the long windows, squinting against the offending sunlight.
" Good. I hate the light in here. " She replied cavalierly and rose, jamming both hands into her baggy pants. " My name’s Sho. " She said, then added, " FYI. " As if revealing her name was too friendly to be accepted.
He answered curtly, " Seth. "
Sho made a little sound that might have been hah or hmph and trudged to the bedroom door, pausing with her back to him as she held the wood open.
" Don’t try to wake me. You’ll get yourself hurt. "
The door slammed shut.
Seth swore loudly and wondered if he should just pour kerosene around the apartment and set the place on fire. He gave a loud snarl and scattered five cushions on the floor. With that, he sauntered away to make some coffee and hope in vain this was all just one extremely idiotic nightmare.
---
When Sho woke it was likely sometime near late evening. She had no trouble clambering out from under the bare covers, for the light that streamed through her window was pale and moon-like. The sky was the deep indigo she liked best, and she stretched noisily. From somewhere in her imagination she heard her mother scream at her to wake up, and she almost yelled back before she realized where she was.
The walls of the room were bare, and the cupboard was twice the size of her old one. Her amplifier was nowhere in sight, and then again neither was her guitar and its maze of wires. For one short instant she panicked, then she remembered.
She had run away.
She was alone now.
Well sort of anyway, since she didn’t consider her roommate much of a human being. What was his name? It was something lingering just out of reach.
She plodded past the door, flinging it open and smoothing back her dark red locks.
---
Hours after the series of unfortunate events, Seth managed to meet up with Damien.
" Look man, it ain’t as bad as you think. She ain’t bad looking too. " Damien said, giving a nervous laugh.
" Bad? You literally fucked my miserable life up. " Seth could have screamed but to his petulance, they were in a café. " You placed me with a Goth-wannabe and- "
" Thank you. " Damien smiled coquettishly at the pretty waitress who was refilling his cup, blatantly ignoring him.
WHAM. Seth slammed his fist against the table.
" Are you listening? Look at all my bruises, damn it! " Seth pointed to his pockmarks, breathing rather harshly now.
Damien nearly jumped from his seat. " Don’t need to get upset. " He muttered.
" I demand you decrease the rent to seven hundred for two people. "
" But that’s impossible; it’s half the price. The most I could do is $1300. "
" $800 then. " Seth grabbed Damien by the collar and pulled him forward. Cutlery cluttered nosily when displaced by the motion. This drew stares and hush whispers from the crowd, and he could tell Damien wasn't enjoying it either.
" $1200- " Damien choked.
" $900. " Seth held the steaming cup of coffee and tipped it precariously on top of Damien’s head.
" $1000, man! No way I can-"
" DEAL " Seth agreed and grinned balefully. He released his hold and walked off briskly to the furniture shop, leaving the landlord’s son to pay the bill.
Damien sighed and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
---
Back propped against the wall, Seth was sitting on a new mattress and staring blankly with his eyes half-closed at the television screen; the TV casting a lambent blue glow in the dark room. The bedroom door unlocked with a soft click-- Sho was awake.
Sho stared at the raven-haired male and sighed. Tentatively, she approached him.
" Look Sloth, I’m sorry for what I did to you earlier today, but you must understand that if you find a strange looking person in your - "
" It's Seth, not sloth. " He cut in suddenly in a rather dry manner. " It's okay, really. "
" By the way, do you have anything that I could… you know… eat. I’m famished. " Sho asked.
Beating someone up does take up energy, you know. She sniggered to herself mentally.
" Oh, so you do have an ulterior motive. " He finally pulled his gaze from the television and looked at her.
---
Rummaging was heard from the kitchen…
" Instant noodles in the first cabinet, instant porridge in the second and canned food in the third. God, is this the food he lives on? " Sho wondered to herself.
" So," Seth asked suddenly, resting against the wall. "Is it going to be prawn, curry or duck? "
" What? "
" I meant the flavor of the instant noodles, " he replied, grinning playfully and holding up two styrofoam packages.
Sho’s palm met her forehead.
Moments later, Sho blew at her noodles and put another batch into her mouth.
" He lowered the rent? "
" Sure, after threatening his well-being of course. " Seth grinned like a Cheshire cat.
" So are we going to split costs equally? "
" No, since you get the bed. "
" Whatever. " Sho rolled her eyes.
---
Life with her around for a week wasn’t as bad as Seth thought initially. She did make a few acerbic and sarcastic comments here and there. At least she didn’t bother him much and minded her own business. However, he had to lower his volume in the daytime for fear he might disturb the nocturnal creature named Sho.
Sho had marked the floor with red tape to indicate the territories they owned. They argued for hours over this matter. Only the toilets and the kitchen belonged to both of them.
Housework and expenses were split equally among them. Sho took odd days and Seth took even. Seth once tried to make breakfast oatmeal for two and ended up failing miserably. The raven-haired youth then tried to convince Sho to eat that agglutination of oats. Apparently, there wasn’t enough water and she threatened suicide with the kitchen knife rather than eating that crap.
After that incident, Sho went to the nearby supermarket and stocked up the fridge with meat, eggs, vegetables and fruits. She bought spices and staple food like potatoes and rice. Though her dishes weren’t fanciful or spectacular, Seth did enjoy and preferred a home-cooked meal than instant noodles any day. Sho cooks and Seth cleans. That was the only thing they agreed on readily.
A series of knocks jolted Seth from his reverie and into the present world. He made a bee-line for the door.
" Yes? " Seth answered and his eyes widened in surprise, which can be translated to a normal person squealing in delight.
" Seth, Einhardt? Please sign this. " A man wearing a smart brown uniform asked politely. Right beside him were several huge packages.
" You guys are late. These were supposed to arrive a week ago. " Seth narrowed his eyes dangerously. The recent events had driven this matter out of his mind. Signing the board hastily, he literally threw it back at the deliveryman. Seth then helped him carry the package in and set it up.
---
Sho stirred and rolled in her sleep. In her dreams, she kept hearing beats, drum crashes and occasionally hoarse singing.
" What a strange dream, the singing's terrible though. Nothing I've heard before. "
Her eyes thundered open and she sat upright suddenly. The sound reverberated in the bedroom; the cacophony came from the living room. She threw the door open and was about to shout at Seth to lower the music but stopped dead in her tracks.
Seth was sitting on a throne, playing on a beautiful ivory drum set. His head bobbing to the fast beat, his ponytail whipping up and down.
---
The bass tone of the electric guitar screeched as the player dragged his fingers across the frets. Seth ended the song in a flourish, his wooden sticks coming down on the crash with all his leftover stamina.
He set the instruments down on the snare, leaning back, fatigued, in his fold-up chair. He shot a half-lidded glance towards the other member of the household, currently gazing at the apparatus with an unreadable expression.
" Oh yeah, sorry," he muttered, flicking the switches on the amps. He brushed a hand through his messy fringe, intent on sleep seeing as he'd been interrupted abruptly by the teenager. Not daring to sic a pissed-off Sho on himself, he gave in.
A hand landed on his shoulder and swiveled him around so they saw eye-to-eye.
"Where'd you get that?"
Seth rolled his eyes. " Bought it, duh," he replied indifferently, failing to see the obvious. He turned the way he was going and made his way over to the couch.
" Great, you just redefined your IQ, retard. I meant how you got the income to buy this, " she practically growled into his back.
Something finally clicked in Seth's liquidated brain, which caused him to have a physical breakdown and collapse into a withering pile of self-humiliation.
" I, eh, got it from my life savings. " He replied sheepishly, adding in a low, embarrassed chuckle. Sho exaggerated an 'oh', set on adding to his accumulating pile of mortification. "And how are you supposed to pay for the rent now?"
" No," Seth began, "I still have like, enough to pay around two years! "
Sho thought he was being sarcastic until she saw the look of seriousness on his face. She gagged.
Hard to tell whether he's being sarcastic or retarded, she groaned, holding her forehead with one hand. When she just happened to spot a minor discrepancy in Seth's plan.
" A-ha!" She exclaimed with vigor, "You crossed the boundary! "
He looked from Sho's pointed finger to his gigantic set of amplifiers, which were more than over the red tape. And finally realized that the set of amps were going nowhere else.
Sho had a knowing smirk on her face as she leaned closer to Seth's shocked face. " Now, we'll just have to share those amps, ya? And what better way- " she grinned maliciously, "then to get me a guitar to go along with it!"
Seth squirmed.
" I'm sure Mr. Rich-boy here has more than enough cash to get me a new guitar! " She slammed her palm on his back to imitate a friendly gesture.
" Okay, fine! Now Mr. 'Rich-boi' here has to sleep, " he growled knowing there wasn't an escape route from her so-called treachery. " Shoo! " he stabbed two hooked fingers directly in front of her eyes, causing her to jerk her head backwards involuntarily.
He then ambled back to the couch, and was sleeping in two seconds flat. Whereas Sho made her way to the kitchen, smiling as she imagined the hole she just punctured in Seth's pocket.
---
Seth twisted the handle very warily, licking his lips in anxiousness as the bolt came all the way loose. He worked the door open bit by bit, hoping to heaven that the hinge would not creak, and peeked inside, finding a sleeping Sho.
He smiled a mischievous grin, and tiptoed across the carpet to the girl, bending down to her ear and taking in a deep breath.
And he blew everything into her ear canal.
The air sped down the tunneling crevice and into the eardrum, where is created a resonating WHOOSH that woke Sho up. Slipping her mood meter to beyond the negatives immediately, and she growled at a grinning Seth, popping her knuckles for the reckoning that was about to descend on the adolescent.
That was until his grin stretched even wider, and he dangled a guitar by the neck in front of her face. The model was a fairly recent Taylor Acoustic, and it showed many signs of use. The black painted circle near the strings bore many nicks and scratches, and the surface wasn't polished at all.
" Yeah, it's mine," Seth coughed. " But before I get you an electric,"
He smiled. " Show me, "
-- End --
REVIEW ALL OF YOU, DAMN IT!
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I blogged at 11:00 AM
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About Me
Name: Clement
Age: 20
Status: Single, and on hiatus
Interest: Writing, Maids, Animes
Currently: National Service
Located at: Purgatory
text
A tinge of creativity transcends reality into a beautiful fantasy
I am too modest a wizard to reveal the full extent of my capabilities
If you can't seduce a woman, you won't be able to write a novel either
Speaking to God is prayer, God speaking to you is schizophrenia
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Celine
Elaine
Fonzie
Gregory
Isaac-kun
Jasmine
Kailing
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