Category: Writers Block
Well, this is a prequel I wrote to another story I wrote called "Blakout" enjoy
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January 18, 2009
The build-up.
Prequel to blackout.
I smile as I watch the two of them down there, saded and happy. Looking at them now, you would never guess that only a few short years ago, they couldn’t stand the sight of one another. But there, I’m getting ahead of myself. Perhaps an introduction would help? Hi, I’m Sage. I’m one of many cupids. Don’t roll your eyes at me, the fat baby in the diaper with the bow and arrow was a strategic imaging choice. Not one that I myself am particularly fond of, but they seemed to think a baby was a non-threatening concept and who am I to argue with the masses? Darn democracy… But I digress. Anyhow, you see the two figures in the meadow down there? No, to your left, just under the oak tree. Yeah, them. I made that happen. Well, not just me, but I helped. Unlike most clichéd stories, they didn’t meet on a lovely spring day. It was raining, in fact. And their eyes didn’t meet across a crowded room, time didn’t seem to stop or any of that other crap you see in the movies. What really happened was this. It was pissing buckets, they were both racing to work and they happened to collide at the buss stop. He helped her up, she glared at him and they went their separate ways. They didn’t even think about one another until a few weeks later when he strolled over to her at work. After placing his order, she happened to glance up. Their eyes met and something clicked. I know what you’re thinking and let me just stop you right there. There were no sparks. They remembered each other at the same time and said nothing, neither even giving the slightest glimmer of recognition. He got his coffee, paid and walked over to a table. That’s where I come in. Casually, I floated down and began to observe. For the next few weeks, at least once a week, he’d come in and order. While he waited, he tried to engage her in conversation. She’d indulge him, but only give short answers. Finally, on a Friday, I had had enough. They were taking too long, so I waved at him, sending him tumbling forward. Before his head could smash into the counter, she had thrown out a hand and caught him. When he had looked up, she was concerned. They had stood talking long after he had drunk his coffee. At the end of her shift, she had insisted on taking him to dinner where they had continued talking. Some months later, on a particularly quiet night, he had brought her to the meadow for a picnic. That’s where he had finally told her. While they were watching the stars, he had told her, in straight English, just what he was. Instead of running screaming for the hills, she had gazed long and hard at him and said
“That certainly explains a lot.” quietly. He had blinked in surprised confusion.
“You’re always cold, you never actually eat anything and you never look tired.” She had continued. He had called her observant and they had spent the rest of the night talking. She wanted to know everything from how it had happened, to what he had remembered of being human, if the change hurt and much more. Patiently, he had explained it all. I kept watch as day after day, she observed him quietly, taking all of him in, as if memorizing his every move and feature. Finally, about two years later, while they were wrapped together in bed, well, that is to say, she was wrapped in a blanked and he was holding her in bed, she had asked if she could join him. He had replied with silence and she had not brought it up again. Then, some weeks later, while they were once again in the Meadow, he had asked if she was serious. She hadn’t even had to think twice before saying yes. Then they had a long discussion about all of it, from how she wouldn’t be able to age, to the overwhelming bloodlust and how being around humans could be difficult. She listened to all he had to say and replied to his every question. The ways she saw it, all her family were dead, she could learn to control the cravings and the only real reason she currently had to live was him. He finally did it a month later, in the meadow. And to think, when Sanila had first crashed into Michael on the street, she had thought he was a jerk and he had thought she was stuck-up.
The end.
More detail would have been a nice touch. But overall, I found this a bit entertaining and moving. Good job.