Dear Teen MeDear Teen Me,Yes, you there.You in the horn-rimmed glasses in your stupid millwheel hat. You knew you’d look totally dumb wearing that to a carnival party, didn’t you? And now you sit there hating the music, hating the people who dragged you there, hating your hair, your figure, your baggy tapered jeans and most of all your glasses. Yes, I know all that. I remember the whole damn evening, when they seemed to play nothing but Salt’n’Pepa, Rozalla and KLF. What did you think they’d play, Paul McCartney, or Elvis Costello? What did you expect the boys would do – would they suddenly notice you with that mil
Spark - chapter 2WordsWords and music. Two things that were so far removed that it took Maedhros a while to even realize they were there. His mind still did not understand them, but his heart did, at least in part. It recognized them as something to break through the endless cycle of painful heartbeats, and left him no say in the matter. He suddenly found that it had the music, and the words, as if it remembered them from a time long ago, though that seemed impossible. They came automatically, forcing themselves out of him with such strength that he couldn't hold them back. He sang the words, sang the music, without having any recollection of how to sing, o
Spark - chapter 3GuiltTurgon's voice was cold. It was always cold when Maedhros heard him speak, which was seldom. Fingolfin's and most of the others' were usually rather flat around him, even the healers'."His brother is at the gate."Fingon turned from his chair at Maedhros' bed to look at his brother standing in the door. "Which of them?" he asked in surprise.Turgon laughed without humour. "Does it matter?""It does. Can you imagine Caranthir walking through our camp? There'd be blood.""It's Maglor. So there probably won't be blood. Not that he'd deserve it any less." Turgon's voice was dark with resentment. "Atar allowed him to pass. Mainly beca
Spark - chapter 4MaimedHis broken shoulder was finally healing. The healers had expressed their amazement at the fact, but for Maedhros, it didn't bring that much of a change for the better. Progress and healing were still slow. He could turn his head without passing out from dizziness, and he found he could even move his right arm again, but it felt so strange, alien, and raw, that he mostly remained lying the way he was, still enduring them doing almost everything for him. And there was something else, a nagging fear of something unspoken. He had not had a look at his right hand in all this time."What aren't you telling me?" he finally found the courage
Spark - chapter 5Strength"So… Fingon has told you.""I found out on my own.""We thought it would be best not to tell you until you… were stronger.""That would have been quite a feat."Maglor shot his older brother an almost anxious glance, not asking the next question: So how did you take it?Maedhros was sitting up in bed again, propped up against pillows, as he had almost all the time since the previous day. His back, shoulder and arm weren't taking it well, but he was determined not to give up any hard-earned ground. Sitting up had meant having his right arm in plain sight for twenty-four hours. He had risen to the challenge, having spen
Spark - final chapterBurdenThe lake-shore lay under several inches of snow, the lake frozen and covered with a white blanket. Maedhros sat leaning against the trunk of a leafless willow, whose branches vanished into the ice, hung with glittering icicles like glass beads. The sinking sun threw long-fingered shadows across the icy lake and frozen fields, creeping behind the Mountains of Mithrim in the west, in what felt to Maedhros like a constant reminder that no hope would come from that direction.He was wrapped in a warm cloak against the cold, his right arm in a sling to prevent him from jolting movements. The stump was still tender to the touch, but he knew that, in time, it would heal completely.The lake lay to his right, the last rays of sunlight turning it into a glittering spectacle trying to catch his eye, but he was not looking at it. His gaze was to the northeast.There, across the peaks of Ered Wethrin, lay Angband. The day had been grey and cloudy, so he could barely make out the moun
SparkAll light had failed.There was only darkness. Darkness, and him, and the pain. The pain was the only thing that was not dark. When Maedhros closed his eyes, the pain even blocked out the darkness, drowning it, mostly red, sometimes white.There were no stars; even they had failed. Maybe they were still there somewhere, above the reeking fumes and smokes of the furnaces of Angband. Maybe they were already gone. Maybe the world was already gone. He had no way of knowing. Sometimes, it would rain, but the rain was black and oily, and it stank. There was no clean thing left in the world. It burned in his eyes and in the many wounds upon his bo
The Cuckoo's CallWalking through the wood at dawn, I heard the cuckoo's call:"Where, where," asked he, "is Moren strong?Where, where is Maelgwyn tall?Where, where is Cluwd ap Garanwyn,Where lies his children's fate?Where is the greatest of them all, Where, where is Bran the Great?"No answer had I, wandering, Of those who went awayOff to battle, off to war, Where fate them did betray.Of Moren, who did not returnFrom strife beyond the waves, Where Maelgwyn strong, and all his men,All found their distant graves.Of Cluwd, who took his seven sonsTo gain his brother's land;There still they lie, in fields of waste,Their ships co
Heroes: Touch and GoTouch and GoThey’d been here so often before that Nathan had almost lost count. Had lost count if you included the times in which the roles had been reversed.Ingratitude wasn’t a new one, either.“Set me down!” Peter panted, the way he was clinging to Nathan’s shoulder with his right arm belying the words. “I said set me down!”Nathan slowed, spied a rooftop surrounded by high walls and a roof garden that would be certain to shield them from any prying eyes, and managed a relatively smooth landing. Peter staggered a few steps away from him and straightened with difficulty, arm half outstretched, in a g
Heroes: DysfunctionalDysfunctional.."Who's ready for pie?"Your voice… doesn't belong here. It belongs in a big, brightly-lit house with a table laden with good food, with bustling servants, with a happy family sitting around it. Do you actually see that big, brightly lit house, the laden table, the happy family, when you close your eyes, Ma? Do you see them with your eyes open?Say something, Ma. And this time, let it not be some mindless prattle about wine or pie I wouldn't mind pie How can you pretend everything's fine and that this is just another family Thanksgiving? What sort of family do you think this is? When have we ever had Thanksgiving dinner
Heroes: One Weird Day at WorkSet: During Heroes 4x14, "Let it Bleed".Characters: Peter, Claire &al.Point of view: A paramedic on scene at the office shooting. Beware of first person narration and present tense! Dear me, I've never done that...One weird day at work.We get called to a shooting at an office block in 1583 W Hudson at 6:11 PM.My partner, Shaun, curses. Our shift is over in twenty minutes, and his wife's got a pork joint in the oven. I feel I know that pork joint by name; he's been talking about it all day. Seems he won't get to his dinner anytime soon."Dispatch, this is 461, we're three minutes out," I acknowledge the call, and we're rolling. We
Snippet - The CircleSomewhere in TangnafeddMidsummer's Eve, 1259Upon a windswept hilltop, three women stood in the shadows of four tall standing stones. A fifth monolith lay in the grass, having toppled over so long ago that it had ground itself into the earth. Carvings adorned the stones; interlacing knotwork here, a tall cross there, crumbled with age, and in several places, a circle containing a threefold spiral. Crows circled above, squawking and quarrelling in the dying light of the evening sun."The youngest shall speak the blessing," croaked one of the three, an old woman of undeterminable age, her face creased with a hundred lines and traced with bl
Where were you?Where were you?.September 11, 20079 a. m.."Sandra Patricia Campbell. Juan Ortega Campos. Sean Canavan. John A. Candela. Vincent Cangelosi…"It was a cool but clear September morning, and Peter and Hesam stood leaning against the side door of their ambulance near Ground Zero, overlooking the large congregation of people that had gathered to commemorate the sixth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks.Theirs was one of two ambulances deployed to Zucotti Park, and like most others on that day, they stood in silence as the names of the people who had died in the attacks were being read by students of a hundred different nationalities.
Heroes - 8:12 PM8:12 PMThe little gold hands on the glass-domed clock next to Nathan’s desk innocently announced that it was 8:12 PM.Nathan drew a hand over his face and tried to get back to work. He’d just taken the boys to bed. Simon had complained about him reading the same passage of The Cat in the Hat twice. Nathan hadn’t noticed. Heidi was downstairs, reading a book, thinking he was working. He ought to be working. He still had to catch up on the things that had piled up while he’d been in Vegas. Public appearances, opinion polls, and still one or two reporters nosing around his little brother’s mental health and alleged su
The Drow's Tale, part 2... continued from http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/15391732/5They let me go again.On the way back, a dozen thoughts whirled in my mind. First and foremost of them was that Alak was dead. With Sinafay's help, I could try and put in my bid for power, for command of our camp. With a priestess behind me, nobody would dare to oppose me.I thought of the two humans. My drow perception of the world insisted they were stupid beings, having let me go twice, on nothing else but my word that I would not harm them, or that I would return and bring help. Stupidity meant that my word was not binding.But then I thought of Tal, who had been very
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