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wilhelmina-luna · 3 years

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Mother

Kai’s soft voice is in my ears again as the room spins. I stare at him like Narcissus stares at the water, watching his blood-stained blonde hair fly about as he looks into my eyes, shoots me a devilish grin, and softly sings. A field of daisies, grass so green, the prettiest girl I’ve ever…

“Chow mein? Anyone order a chicken chow mein?” I opened my eyes to find the room had stopped spinning. The taste of blood slowly went away as I realised I wasn’t alone. The man sitting across me gawked at me for a few minutes after I was very obviously startled by the nasal voice of the waitress. At first glance, he looked just like any other of his species I see in the city on a daily basis, dressed in a black pinstripe suit. After taking a closer look, I realised he had weirdly long limbs and a shadowed, resting sad face. Feeling his agony through his eyes made me feel sick. Until the old doctor approached me with a plan in that Dim Sum restaurant that cold Thursday afternoon, I did not for a second believe it could be possible to reverse my actions. I did not say yes only because Kai would want me to or because I believed I had some good left in me, I said yes because I wanted to see Mother just once, even if it meant I’d have to destroy her afterwards.

When tragedy strikes planet earth, every living being inhabiting it starts brewing a deep longing for the before times, to the extent that their previous, calm lives feel oceans away. It was was one of those eras, where amidst political chaos, childbirth had become a battlefield where the stronger, genetically modified evil twin would win, killing the two left behind, a monster born without maternal needs. If a woman was was to be told she was having twins, it meant that she should also pick out her coffin while shopping for a cradle, not because of a superstitious bad omen, but because of her killer growing inside her body. It is at these times that humanity uses nostalgia as a form of torture and self-harm. Imagining a world before Ima-Gene Inc. where evil embryos didn’t exist is like gliding a razor through one’s left wrist. Their hunger to create a stronger generation was nothing like anyone had ever seen. The invisible hand leading a natural selection with a deep craving for power. It felt impossible to picture a time before ‘the body’, the evil matriarchal assembly line. The rotting corpse of my beloved betrayed mother. Her body a source of no-good, her uterus preserved in mint condition to produce more damaged goods like me.

I would like to have said that I understood humanity’s pain and that their sharp cries tickled sadness and pity in me, yet this chaos had all started with me.

Men told Jun, the nasal waitress, many things both because in their eyes she was different and beautiful in an exotic way, but also because their egos full of raging toxic masculinity never assumed Jun could ever do anything about it. Nobody ever thought she could be strong, and nobody would ever think she could be the mastermind behind the old man’s plan. She worked in the Dim Sum place that was next to Ima-Gene and constantly overheard details from her regulars about the way Mother’s body had been turned into a source of energy and evil. Preserved like new with cellular technology. The gene had been replicated and released into the public through various undetected ways like a virus for years. A pattern out of an accident. A genetic anomaly holding for dear life, attached to an unaware pair of ovaries, waiting in the arena for the fighters to arrive.

Jun had her own reasons for wanting the power struggles of a pregnant belly to stop, for as a kid she had been smuggled out of China in defiance of the only child policy. I always assumed she understood what it felt like to be the weak one. She was the one chosen to let go. At least I fought for my way and oxygen. Jun felt a personal connection to those who lose the battle and perish after spending months in a cell with their killer. Jun came up with her plan after one day seeing the old man drunk in a corner of the restaurant. He never told us the reason why he wanted to go through with the plan, but I often found him taking quick looks at the pictures in his locket. Upon realising how weak and accepting of the situation he had become, Jun decided to step in. At least she had been offered a second chance to do good. The heist plan was simple. Jun would use her beauty against one of the corporate ghouls, bewitching his male gaze with her assumed exoticism in order to find out where the protected uterus and Mother were kept in the heavily guarded science lab. The doctor would take me to it.

When the day came, with an ironic nod towards feminism, Jun had accomplished her task efficiently, using her body for the greater good. Momentarily sacrificing hers for future mothers to come. When I arrived in front of the building, the doctor no longer had the usual scared look on his face, for I assumed he was ready to destroy the thing that took his wife away. Even if it would be at my cost. None of them knew who I was as I slid past the nurses and doctors turning their backs on their Hippocratic oath and destroying lives instead of saving them as they had promised. I felt oddly light as I walked through the corridors towards Mother, often feeling Kai’s supportive hand on my left shoulder.

Now I am standing in the brightly lit room to make everything right again, 23 years and 4 months after unleashing catastrophe upon Planet Earth with the first breath that filled my lungs. I see why my destruction is crucial for the order to be restored again. I love Kai the way one loves a thought, for he is a memory I would never remember fully or dare to forget. My metamorphosis from a baby into a killer started only 8 months after my non-consensual landing on planet earth. Carrying the weight of all murders since Agamemnon’s, I had used my shiny white teeth to devour the one next to me and kill my way towards the bright room. My pupal transformation into a monster had triggered the evil matriarchal puppet show, my biggest mistake not destroying the uterus that carried me.

I am smiling as I strap the bomb around Mother’s naked body, preserved in mint condition in a glass box as if it were a porcelain doll. The deafening silence of the noise pushes me to the floor. I never thought I could kill Mother twice, but I did. Once for myself, and once for Kai.

The Leviathan to my Behemoth.

#short story

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decodingbackstreet · 7 years

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VEGAS REVIEW

All right! It’s been a week. I’ve taken the time to chill. The alcohol has run its course through my body. And because I don’t feel like my nasal cavity isn’t filled with bricks, I finally feel well enough to actually do this. Who goes to Vegas and comes home with a cold? Apparently I do.

Now, I saw the show twice: Friday and Saturday. Both were great, but were two completely different experiences.

Friday was the first show. I was with my sisters and it was for my birthday (which was actually 3 months ago and I had other plans for it but then they announced the residency and plans changed). Anyway, in true Toney fashion, we “pregamed.” That’s when you drink before going somewhere where you’ll probably drink again. We do it so we don’t spend so much money on drinks. So I had my vodka cranberry and we went down to the AXIS, which was on the casino floor. I stayed in Planet Hollywood, btw. Great place and the smoke wasn’t too bad. The ventilation system was great. Also got the hook up on the room because my sister sweet-talked the hostess. We reserved like the cheapest room and ended up with a view on the 50th floor.

Moving on, we got inside and there was the usual things you do for a concert and they also had a place where you could take pictures. I got a tshirt (because it was for my birthday) and we decided to get drinks. Now, I was being responsible and tried to just go with a SMALL but I gave into peer pressure from my older sister and got a large strawberry daiquiri. Again, because it was for my birthday, the bartender hooked me up with the alcohol. So after that, we went to our seats.

I sat in 206 for this one. The AXIS is not big by any means, so there is really no bad seat. So my view was great. The show was set to start at 9 but when has BSB ever been on time? Ha! Instead, things got started around 9:15. And what I mean by “start” is they play this mashup with a video of all their videos. It’s like 12min long. I linked to it a week or so ago. To me, it was like a final countdown before they came out. So we’re dancing and singing along. Having just a merry old time. Then when it’s done, everything goes dark.

And then the show starts!

I’m not gonna explain what actually happens in the show because y'all can YouTube that for yourselves. Plus, I don’t wanna ruin… certain things. But it was soooo fun. Even more fun because by the first costume change I was completely slizzed. And I laughed for a good five minutes at my sister butchering INBYH. Oh and my sister damn near fainting when her fave (AJ) appeared before us. I’m so mad I didn’t have the presence of mind to take a picture or anything. But her reaction tho… God that was funny. All in all a great time and I didn’t want it to end.

Unfortunately it did and a hilarious set of shenanigans happened that included me leaving my phone in the theater and not realizing it til we got back to our room, having to go back and get it while feigning sobriety to the security guards because I was soooo drunk, making it back to my room, and then painting the bathroom pink. Bonus points for managing to not get any of it on me. After apologizing profusely to housekeeping lady, I somehow got into my pjs and braided my hair up. I have no recollection of even getting into the bed. All I know is that I didn’t have to share it.

NEXT!

After waking up with the type hangover where all you wanna do is go back to sleep, we ate at the buffet and THEN I went back upstairs to sleep while my sisters explored the strip. We did some other stuff later on and were surprised because we finished early. “Early” being about 8. They wanted to go back to the room and chill and get drunk and I still had energy. So I checked Ticketmaster to see if there were any good seats left for the Saturday show. Lo and behold there were! So I told my sisters I was going again, bought my ticket, and did just that.

Now, the balcony seats were open for this show so there were at least 2000 more ppl in there than on Friday. By the way, our boys are the first residency at the AXIS to have the balcony seats open due to demand. I actually had to line up to get in. Didn’t have to do that on Friday. We just kinda walked in. Now that I think about it, there probably was a line and I cut it (I went under the little barrier and told my sisters to follow me). But who was really gonna confront the girl dressed in all black with a masterful resting bitchface and shoes that could stomp you out? According to my sisters, the moment I’m not smiling I’m incredibly intimidating.

But I digress. I found my seat and chilled out til they started the video. I was singing along happily before being yanked from my seat and into the aisle by two girls. I was a little shocked at first but then I realized they were just having a harmless good time so I sang and danced along with them.

Show started and it was DEAFENING. It was much louder than it was on Friday. I was sober this time around so I could really take in what was going on around me. First, I was a section over in 207 but I was further down. Second, the usher so cute. She just looked so happy and she was singing along and stuff. Third, I did find the new angle I was sitting at weird. Fourth, the girl they brought up on stage during SOMH didn’t know what to do with herself. She looked like she was torn between hugging them all, running away, crying, or passing out altogether. It was so adorable. Fifth, it surprised me how much of a crowd favorite Drowning was. Not quite IWITW crowd favorite (few songs for any artist are) but definitely got a lot of ppl yelling the lyrics out.

The audience was so much more hype than it was on Friday. That might’ve been because there were more ppl. The guys seemed to feel that energy. And if you’ve ever been to a BSB show, you know their relationship with the audience is symbiotic. They will give us the energy we give them. So everything was on 11. Whenever there was a dance break during a song (some examples are LTL, Get Down, the ALAYLM chair dance, Everybody), the crowd collectively lost their minds. Yes. The white boys have a little rhythm. Let’s scream about it. I still don’t understand the concept of dancing off beat tho and lord knows there was a lot of that going on around me. Even drunk I could stay on beat.

Also, I’d been wondering where the hell they come from for AIHTG and since I was 1) further down and 2) sober, I could see that they come from side doors while everyone is paying attention to the dancers on stage. So Howie pops up in front of me and I’m like wow there’s Howie. So I recorded Howie. He’s so cute and small. I’m taller than Howie and at that point, I’d taken my shoes off. I’ve got a solid inch on Howie.

What amused me was that some of the audience seemed absolutely mystified by Undone. Like the casual fans who’ve probably never heard that song til that day. The rest of us were singing along and stuff. The guys sitting next to me saw I knew it and asked me where they could find it. So, I probably gave This Is Us an album sale.

But if you haven’t gotten tickets to go yet, GO ON SATURDAY! Both days were great but the energy is so much better on Saturday. That and the crowd seemed… younger? Well, there were more ppl MY age. On Friday there were a lot of kids and older ppl. When I say older ppl, I mean folks who were adults when BSB was at the height of their powers.

Oh I hope they put the show on a DVD or something. Celine puts hers on DVDs. And even if they don’t wanna do physical copies they can sell digital copies on iTunes or Amazon. I’d toss my money at them.

#backstreet boys #bsbvegas

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setoangel01-fanfiction · 7 years

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Therapy

Set Me Free - Chapter 2 (Previous Chapter)

Rated: T

Chapter Summary: (Sing 2016) Ash tries to ignore these strange feelings for Johnny as she delves deeper into her ex-boyfriend's betrayal and lies she begins to believe. But perhaps some encouragement and therapy is all she needs.

Fanfiction.net

A03

Ash thought she may throw up.

The sugary bubble gum she was chewing suddenly tasted of ashes in her mouth the very instant this strange feeling befell over her. Nothing she could have anticipated or expected just tidal waved through her delicate body and she was having none of it. Using the last shred of control Ash had, she utilized it to ignore them. Pretended she didn't hear those kind words, and she did not, I repeat, did NOT appreciate his gentle and somehow compassionate smile.

Pushed away any sort of indication of anything other than indifference; blaming these indiscretions on her own faltering emotional state. She hardly trusted anything right now; especially a nice smile and some encouraging words from an attractive guy (did she really just think that?). Besides - what did it matter? She'd already learned her lesson the hard way, thank you very much.

Ash dared not return his kind statement nor didn't bother looking at him anymore. She instead decided to turn her face away and valiantly try to ignore Johnny even as he made a rather amusing display of pushing the piano onto the stage; the egregious squeak accompanying made her fur and quills prickle and stand up on end.

Feeling more than a little annoyed at this point, she took a deep breath to try and calm her nerves. Reaching back into Rosita's bag to grab another small handful of butterscotch candies, she began unwrapping one when Johnny's playing and singing filtered through the bitter clouds of her crippling depression.

The song was "All of Me". She reluctantly admitted that the choice fit him perfectly. Soulful tones befitting of the ballad and she had to acknowledge that it was pleasant even if a sappy love song was the last thing she wanted to hear right now.

Halfway listening, she reluctantly appreciated those strong vocals, its deep raspy quality and his impressive vibrato yet as soulful and annoyingly pure as his voice was - his piano playing desperately needed work. (For all she knew, he could be doing great considering he was learning piano from a thousand year old lizard.) Ash listened and slightly flinched as he'd missed note after note on the ivory keys and his voice faltered with it at times in what had to be embarrassment or nerves. It was almost painful to listen to and whatever embarrassment she may have felt about her own performance were dulled but it didn't make it feel good to hear someone else screwing up…

Before she could even fathom that strange musing, Rosita reappeared through the thick burgundy curtains. Gunter was close behind; wearing a rather inappropriate, not to mention skintight, costume as he sauntered after her.

Ash's brows furrowed slightly; one ear subconsciously listening to Johnny and the other trying to figure just exactly what was wrong with Rosita. The two pigs were speaking back and forth and Rosita was rubbing at her reddened nose and seemed in distress. The side of Ash that wasn't mourning her own emotional status or trying to rationalize her strange thoughts was desperate to rise to her feet and return some of that comfort Rosita had provided earlier. Only problem was that her tongue wouldn't exactly work because frankly, what could she say?

"Rosita, you don't need za papers or learn da steps! Ya need to feel it! Feel zha fire un desire!" Gunter explained in a thick accent; sauntering his hips sensually and Ash's nausea returned with a vengeance.

"The fire went out a long time ago…" Rosita replied; a dejected sigh exiting her lips as she reached for the yellow tote that leaned on Ash's side. The female pig gave her a sad smile while pushing the straps up her shoulder.

Ash was more confused about what exactly happened; feeling suddenly terrible that she didn't even bother paying attention to Rosita's performance… Guilt was not a welcome emotion now but it plagued her regardless.

"I'm sorry. I-I gotta go." Rosita breathed and before Ash could squeak out a single word, the kind woman had disappeared around the corner.

Legs finally working, she bounded off the tall box and took a few steps toward the direction she left, but Rosita was already long gone.

"Rosita, wait." Ash breathed out fruitlessly when Meena made her presence known.

"I-Is she alright?" the soft-spoken elephant asked Gunter whom let out a dramatic sigh while zipping up his golden jacket.

"Yah," the pig said with a dismissive flourishing hand, "Jus needs ta feel da rhythm is all! Do not worry! She'll ze back." with those words, Gunter suddenly disappeared the way Rosita came but neither Ash nor Meena felt compelled to stop or follow him.

Ash stared after the pigs for a few seconds and when she turned her attention back to where Meena was once standing, the elephant was gone as well. Now with literally nothing left to hold her attention, Ash relocated back to her seat upon the music equipment box.

Truthfully, she wasn't even sure why she was still here. Her only chance of the day already exploded in her face and there was really no reason to prolong her suffering. Letting a sigh inch its way from her throat, she stared down at her lap. Hands cradling a few remaining candies and the guilt began eating away at her stomach. Wishing she'd said more to comfort Rosita in whatever occurred but at this point, what did it matter? What did any of this?

Chewing at her gum again to ignore how her stomach flip-flopped in her stomach, she popped a bubble and a voice she thought she'd blocked out began echoing into the now silent backstage. Ash was just as surprised as anyone that Johnny was indeed still singing. It'd felt a lifetime since he disappeared behind the mahogany curtains and it had been less than three minutes. Starting the final bridge of the song, his voice remained strong and powerful; Ash reluctantly had to hand it to him - as amateurish of a pianist he was, he still wasn't giving up. Vocals stronger as he tried to overpower the off-key notes or at some points went almost completely acapella; at some points it worked…kinda…not really.

But hell, at least he was trying. It beat blubbering and sobbing like she'd done.

A sudden tidal wave of embarrassment washed over and filtered through her body; own lingering doubts began their hostile takeover. What if it happened again? She could hardly trust herself to keep it together for a single damn song and her own emotional status was deteriorating by the second… There were so much uncertainty and inklings as to everything that could and probably would go wrong the next time around. Figuring out how to get over this breakup and write a new song?! It all seemed far too impossible; too great a hurdle to overcome in her delicate state…

Maybe Lance was right…maybe she couldn't do this…

Continence falling, she felt her eyes getting blurry again but she quickly wiped the moisture away. She'd cried enough for one day. Perhaps she should be truthful with Buster. Perhaps he was wrong to even pick her let alone let her get this far. She's already did a hell of a job proving how unfit she could be; allowing her emotions to ruin her performance and Lance's harsh words to control her. Perhaps she didn't deserve another chance let alone at $100,000…perhaps she should just…

Suddenly, like a bat outta hell, Johnny barreled through the curtains. At a full sprint, he passed her and almost tripped up the stairs as he burst through the backstage entrance. As the door slowly had yet to close behind the gorilla, she heard the primal roar of an engine and the harsh squeal of tires before a deafening silence befell the entire area. Before she even could breathe yet alone figure out what happened or had gotten into Johnny, Buster's frustrated voice broke out.

"Johnny? Johnny?! …ugh... Where did that boy go now?"

The slight confusion on her part faltered when Buster continued a second later.

"Oh well. Anyway, is that all, Ms. Crawley? Did those raccoon's ever leave?"

"I believe they're still practicing in the backrooms. I'll remove them now, Mr. Moon." she replied in that slow stuttering tone and you could hear her tail dragging as she moved slowly toward that direction.

"No, no, no, I just…" Buster dramatically sighed out his obvious frustration and Ash figured there was no time like the present.

Smoothing out the wrinkles on the silver dress and spitting her gum in an extra candy wrapper, she jumped from the box, pushed through the curtains, and exited to the stage. The bright lights were not at all appreciated; hating how it distorted her vision as she made her way to the orchestra pit.

There in his normal seat was busy-body Buster Moon; the koala distracted, organizing his many sheets of paper work to notice her appearance.

"Mr. Moon?" Ash asked respectfully, loathing how her voice was so nasally and cracked; she harshly cleared her throat to remedy the problem.

"Oh." wide blue eyes lifted to meet hers, "Yes. Ash? Um…M-May I help you? I thought I sent you home. You are dismissed."

"Yeah, Um, listen, I don't think I can do this. I really screwed up today and -" Ash started; the confidence she once prided herself in was almost completely vanquished.

"Mr. Moon, Judith from the bank is on line two again!" Ms. Crawley interrupted from another room and it was hard not to notice how his fur prickled at the voice. Whether it was from the voice itself or its contents, she wasn't sure. Perhaps it was both. All she knew was it must have bothered him enough to rush up to the stage and stand next to her.

"Thank you, Ms. Crawley, just tell her I'm with a client and I'll call her back later…tomorrow!" Buster called back.

"But you said -"

"Thank you, Ms. Crawley!" he shouted this time between gritted teeth, his hands shook and if Ash wasn't uncomfortable before, she was a flat-out awkward duck now.

"Look, if this is a bad time -" Ash started.

"No, no, no! Listen, Ash. We all have bad days. Believe me." he emphasized by folding his hands and lifting himself higher on his toes for a moment. Eyes majority staying on her but tended to flick toward other areas as if planning an escape. If she wasn't so lost in her own problems, perhaps it would have been a bit more suspicious.

"I-I don't -"

"Ash, it's okay." his voice was quick and movements even more so as he placed a small hand on her shoulder, "Everyone struggled today. It happens! Oh, Lord knows it does, but hey, that's show business for you! The point is - there's bound to be a bad performance here and there. What's important is you come back to prove yourself!"

Ash desperately wanted to refute his confident nature but he spoke it so genuinely that it couldn't be ignored. Her tongue remained silent.

"I know you have a ton of potential and it's about time you put it to work! Alright? Is that all you needed?"

"...uh…Y-Yeah…" she sighed.

"Great! You're excused. Now, run along. I'll see you on Friday morning. Alright? Perhaps with a different song, m'kay?" Buster's words were quickly spoken with dismissive hand gestures, but they hit home. Icy blue eyes and mouth hanging wide open as the koala smiled nervously and waved her off before he quickly escaped with short quick steps into the backstage area. A very nervous Meena, who apparently had been standing there the entire time, gave her a small wave before following after him.

Ash just stood there as if frozen in time. Her heart more or less battered and weak as it beat against her pained rib-cage. The hurt was hard to ignore; a constant ache she was certain wouldn't dissipate felt…lighter somehow.

For someone else to speak those words seemed to make it more graspable reality. It wasn't over even if her heart pitter-pattered painfully in her chest; the bleeding organ screaming and flopping pathetically in her chest. While Lance's betrayal was just so fresh leaving her little time to think of anything else, there was some truth to it.

This wasn't over.

Buster didn't throw her out or reject her even though frankly, she kinda deserved to be. As small as a chance there was of her picking herself up and performing for him again - there was still a chance!

A flicker; a light she was afraid had went out permanently sparked inside her chest. There was a sudden underlining anger to her grief; a desperate desire to prove Lance wrong. And it sure wouldn't be found in any of those lame songs Buster kept choosing for her. Ash needed more sustenance; more fuel for the fire that came to life and began to rage deep inside her gut. Before she realized what happened, she felt more alive; more determined than ever to prove Lance wrong. To prove she didn't need him and never did.

…and she was more determined than ever to make sure he KNEW it…

With trembling fists, Ash smirked and ran backstage to change and head back home.

As confidence steadily leaked back, it still wasn't easy to be back in thei-her apartment.

A strange feeling fell over her just to enter the space. It was so obvious now just how utterly loud Lance had been. The television, radio, or his amps always blaring and to come home to it dark and empty was almost soul-crushing.

Silence.

Nothing but utter silence enveloped her much like the inky darkness surrounding.

Flicking on the light switch, she was greeted with his belongings. His CD's, DVD's, and sheet music all scattered around the floor, band posters littering the walls, mike and guitar stands propped up in the corners. Further looking upon it as if for the first time, she took in the tattered remains of what used to be their life. Picture frames littered around on their coffee table and walls; some of the frames old and hung crooked, but neither cared at the time.

Ash placed down her guitar gently as she tried to ignore the bile that rose to her throat.

A familiar pain greeted her much like an old friend; this withered sensation washed over every fiber of her being as she walked through her house. The rooms filled with stuff they'd bought during their time together. Mismatched plates, bowls, and cups in the cabinets and some piled in the sink. Junk food and soda well-stocked in the cabinets and fridge. It was as if it had been a fragment of time; wall cracks scattered throughout; peeling paint in neglected areas, and perhaps one too many stains in the carpeting. Lance always had a bad habit of spilling food or drink and when she wasn't home, it would leave it time to set. He never even bothered to try cleaning it up himself…Shaking her head subconsciously as a few of those fights flashed through her mind as she made her way to the bedroom.

Light pouring in from the flick of a switch, she quietly took it in. The sheets and comforter of the bed wrinkled and unmade from her previous night alone in it. Clean laundry haphazardly folded at the foot of thei-her bed. Her books on her night table and Lance's wrinkled and rolled-up magazines littered his side. Always recalled how she had to clean up after him; pick up his food scraps, dirty laundry, balled-up sheet music, and random trash scattered everywhere. At the time, it seemed almost normal but now it had her stomach sinking when she recalled the very few, if any, times he said "thank you" for all her hard work.

Scarcely could remember the last time he said a kind word; not dismissive or borderline cruel - just anything encouraging! …and she couldn't…

A sudden anger flared to life in her chest.

This - their life had really meant nothing to him! Sure, it wasn't perfect in any sense of the word, but it had been their life. A life he threw away as if it meant nothing to him; as if she were worthless to him.

Five years in which she believed in his many lies. Fallen so deeply in love with a deceiver; one that would toss her aside like a dirty tissue without another thought. How meaningless this all felt. To think just days ago he was here and she couldn't be more content with life. Those mornings before the audition where they were so utterly excited for the chance to become superstars and win a bunch of money. The world had felt so vast and full of opportunity; she had her boyfriend of five years beside her, holding her hand in a tight grasp. Together, they were going to make it happen…

It took just days to bring the ship crashing down in an epic explosion.

Ash didn't even bother fathom that night again; didn't care to remember tossing and turning in the sheets that still smelt like him as she tried fruitlessly to fall asleep. A hellish night filled with crying and weeping with scarcely stopping for breath. She felt like she was dying inside; as if her other half was physically ripped out through her still beating heart…

To think she'd really loved him…when he likely didn't even know what that word meant…

Paws shaking precariously, her eyes met the picture she kept on her nightstand. The one of many 'selfies' they'd taken over the years. How innocent the world seemed to that girl in the photo; the one never knowing what he'd do later on…

If only she'd knew then what she knew now…

Yet instead of crying like she desperately wanted to; Ash grabbed the frame. Moved throughout the house to collect every single picture of them she could find and loaded them into a pile in front of the couch. Careful not to destroy the frames, she took out every single photograph and tossed them to one side of the room while she placed the now empty frames back where they belonged.

Feet dragging slightly on the rough carpet as she returned to the living room. Staring down at the evidence of their five years together; picture after picture of them through various dates and locations. If she was a stranger looking in, she would say they looked like a happy couple. The cute boy wearing his normal lazy smirk and this pretty girl looking so damn naive and stupid to ever believe a single word he said…

"You can't write your own songs…" his taunting voice invaded her subconscious.

Yet, instead of allowing it to damage her further like he intended, more voices spoke up on her behalf.

"It sounds to me like you're better off without him. That -that -." Rosita's kind voice echoed through her head.

"-that total super jerk dinkle-shplat!" Gunter's voice came in and she couldn't stop that half-smile that rose on her face.

"I know you have a ton of potential and it's about time you put it to work!" Buster weighed in.

"Good luck, Ash. I know you'll do great next time." Johnny's voice suddenly filtered into her subconscious and her heart skipped a beat.

Swallowing thickly and pushing those notions aside, she stared at the picture in her hand. That one time she believed she would be with Lance forever, that he was everything she needed and wanted and just how foolish that sounded now. Lance wasn't worth this pain; wasn't worth this torment he caused her battered heart. She didn't need his approval and never did…She was going to write her own song, dammit, and she was going to do it all without him!

With a agile flick of her wrist, Ash ripped the picture in half with a satisfying tearing noise - in that very moment, she'd never felt so free…

#sing 2016 #sing fanfiction #sing movie #johnny #ash #johnny x ash #johnny/ash #fanfictio #jash

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theseaofskulls-blog · 7 years

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Beethoven Escapes a Dinosaur

Beethoven Escapes A Dinosaur

A tragedy

Ludwig Van Beethoven was a man whose music spoke of a sorrow at the very centre of our lives, he was rarely demonstrative but explosive when so, and even more elusive than numerous biographies would have you know. Born in 1770 during a particularly bitter winter, Ludwig inherited two gifts. The first was esoteric at best, he was in possession of a soul in tune with the vibrations of the universe. His ability to pick out echoes from the air, and distil them into music was peerless, and as he closed his eyes, he’d sense the very fabric of reality vibrating around him. Like a taught animal hide stretched across a drum, he’d trap the sounds he heard within his belly, and allowed them to echo through him. Plucking at his tendons like harp strings, he became the very music itself.

The second gift was from his Grandfather on is his mother’s side, and that was the ability to time travel. He didn’t require a machine, or huge swathes of energy. Johann Keverich’s family had come unstuck from our universe’s time stream in the late 1600s when one of his ancestors made some catastrophic agreements with beings he shouldn’t have. However this story isn’t about time travel, it isn’t about dinosaurs though both have key parts to play. This, as with all great stories, is the story about a boy and girl.

Beethoven’s first, and some say only true, love was Giulietta Guicciardi, a young countess to whom he gave private piano tuition. As a man not of noble birth, society would never have allowed such a partnership, decorum and her decisions dictated otherwise, but that didn’t stop this love burning brightest during his life. He tried to liken his dutch Van with the noble German Von, but to no avail. This small, impossible love drove him to do many foolish things. She was a flighty love, warm and cold, near and then distant. Ludwig provided her the emotional love she’d always dreamt of, and she thought of their affair as an echo of Tristan and Isolde. She imagined their impossible union in the vernacular of Shakespeare’s doomed loves and all the while, they both knew it would never happen. Neither would be able to throw off the shackles of decorum to allow their love to blossom and grow. It was always fated not to be.

Things were in constant flux around Ludwig, and often he’d unstick himself and fling himself wildly through time for his rage was the only outlet for his seemingly unrequited love. Many believed that when he’d first begun to show signs of deafness, that it was due to this temper. He’d been working furiously on a new piece of music, or so they thought, when he was interrupted by his staff. Ludwig had never been in the best of health, and so when he exploded in rage people felt this had caused his subsequent deafening. However this was not the case.

Ludwig had come to the end of another lesson with Giulietta, and as Ludwig gathered up his papers, he made trivial small talk.

‘And what would you most like to hear Giulietta, if one was to magic these sounds out of the air for you, what would you most like? A lark’s song? The crack of a mountain glacier?’

Ludwig believed that ideas as such were the way to her heart. As if to understand her wants, and to provide them, that would make her love him completely. Or at least enough to break all the social structures that prevented them being together. However one doesn’t merely throw away generations of breeding on the whims of what her father called, a bard who doesn’t sing.

Giulietta, with all her beauty, and genuine affection for Ludwig, was also a caustic presence in his life. She chafed and irritated, at his heart and at his mind. She played with him as a cat with a ball of yarn, batting him away, only to draw him closer than anyone else.

‘Ludwig,’ she said in her lilting Italian accent, ‘I’d like to hear a dragon’s roar, I’d like to hear god’s words as he breathed life into his creation, and I’d like to hear the moon’s lament.’ She laughed coquettishly, coming over to him and resting her thin fingers on his upper arm and squeezed. ‘But these are the wishes of a little girl, foolishness in the light of God’s eye.’ She turned and left the room, and immediately the cogs in Beethoven’s mind began to spin. This was almost as if in a fairy tale, with him being the titular hero of his own tale, off on an adventure to win the hand of a capricious queen. He saw the curtain of reality peel apart for him as he tried to imagine what a dragon even was. To contemplate a monstrous creation on God’s earth was in itself ridiculous, but having already had a lifetime of maladies and illnesses, he knew that the God that created sunrises, humming birds, and Giulietta could also create the black bile that was drained from him. He could create winters that took the elderly and the young. He was an old testament God who’s love was paid for in blood and suffering.

But dragons? How would one find them? He’d heard of the skulls discovered in the Orient, buried under centuries of earth so that they could only be freed with a pick axes. He’d heard that Prince Lobkowitz, an early patron of Ludwig’s, had recently acquired one and so hastily packed up his manuscripts, and hailed a carriage to the Prince’s abode. On approaching the palace, he heard the Prince call from his balcony.

‘Is that Young Ludwig? Maybe he has come to play me some new song he has stolen from heaven?’

‘Prince Lobkowitz’ Ludwig hailed, ‘It is an honour to see you this fine day, I was hoping I may take up some of your time.’ He disembarked from the carriage, papers bundled under his arm.

‘Of course, Ludwig, curator of my soul, come in come in come in’ The prince excitedly exclaimed as he ran down to his entrance hall. He was sprightly for his age, and his eyes shone with a joy that spoke of a heart unburdened. ‘How may I help you my wonderful man?’

‘Prince, I believe you have recently acquired, I cannot believe these words are to leave my lips, the skull of a dragon.’ Ludwig raised his hand to his eyes, as if to cover his embarrassment of asking such a silly question.

‘Dragon? Ah yes, you mean the dinosaur. The TERRIBLE lizard! For it IS monstrous Ludwig. It’s fangs, its huge empty eye sockets. Come see, Ludwig, come behold the horror!’ The prince escorted Ludwig through his gold encrusted palace till they came to a small chamber, hidden away. The prince rest his hand on the door and placed the other on Beethoven’s heart. ‘I can feel your heart beating, it is racing Ludwig, as it should. I assure you, it is perfectly safe.’ And with no little showmanship, the Prince swung open the door to reveal the giant skull of what we now know to be a Tyrannosaurus Rex. The Terrible King.

It was pale, as one would expect of petrified bone. It stood over the height of a man both tall and long. And as Ludwig’s eyes rested on its alien curvature, he felt the soul of this beast stir in him. He approached tentatively, his arms out wide as he gingerly felt each foot forward. He could hear the laughter in Prince Lobkowitz silence, he saw it reverberating beneath his iris and in his body. But the Prince understood the thrill of what Beethoven was experiencing, something he’d never seen, something the great man couldn’t even imagine was now in front of him.

‘To see this your highness, is to see my own death.’ Ludwig said forlornly, ‘My own fragility is laid bare by the demise of this once great beast.’ His arms could barely stretch wide enough, so he thread his arm into the various crevices and sockets of the beast. He rolled his open palms around the nasal cavity, he ran his fingers gently down the serrated teeth that would terrify a lion and he turned his back on it and sat by it. Dwarfed by every proportion, he sat in the shadow of the monster.

To see this creature, once great and resplendent, calcified, exposed to Ludwig that even the giants that made the mountains quake were destined for the same end.

Prince Lobkowitz had tired at Ludwig’s groping of the skull, did a needlessly dramatic yawn and spoke.

‘Ludwig, I shall leave you to distil whatever beautiful liquor you can from this titan’s skull, I feel like going on a hunt. I’d ask you to join me, but I know you’d only refuse.’ And with that, the Prince departed leaving Beethoven with the skull and some wan candle light. When he was quite sure he was alone, Ludwig turned to the skull, placed his ear against, and tried to listen for its song.

When Ludwig had been a small child, he’d visited his grandfather who had taken him into the family barn. In it were a couple of disgruntled farm yard animals annoyed that they’d been found by their masters. His grandfather cleared the centre of the room and stood opposite young Ludwig. He drew a circle in the hay and dirt by scoring his heel into it. When they were both within the ring, his grandfather spoke in a solemn manner.

‘I am going to teach you something Ludwig. And it isn’t going to be easy, but it will open up the world to you.’

‘Is it a new song?’ he replied.

‘It is the only song. It is the song of time.’

‘How do you play it? What instrument?’

‘You don’t play it Ludwig, you merely listen. And the instrument, well it is you, and me, and everyone else.’

‘I’m not sure I understand grandfather?’

‘It is difficult to explain, but easier to show. Think of the last time you were truly happy.’

Ludwig paused, happiness was always such a fleeting emotion. Transitory and weak he thought to himself.

‘It was last Sunday grandfather, we’d been to church and it was sunny. I could smell the grass that had been shorn on the hill, and the wind would catch the smell and bring it to us.’ His grandfather smiled, and took his hand.

‘Now I want you to think of that moment, specifically that hill. Can you remember it? Can you smell it? Close your eyes and keep thinking of that hill. Can you smell it?’

It was a short while, no more than a minute, and then Ludwig spoke.

‘I can smell it Grandfather, I can feel the wind on my neck. I can hear the birds in the trees.’

‘Open your eyes.’

Ludwig gasped a sharp intake of cool fresh air. They were stood on the hill, down at the bottom he could see himself walking with his family. The clock in the town square rang out once, and he saw birds murmur on the horizon. It was hard for his mind to form the correct questions. He passed out. When he awoke he was back in the barn.

‘Grandfather,’ he said pulling himself from the dirt and straw while patting himself, ‘H-how did we do that?’

‘You closed your eyes, and thought in such a way that the universe heard you and took you there.’

Ludwig just looked at him, eyes glistening with tears of joy. He ran and embraced the old man, his body physically shaking as the reality of what he could do coursed through his body.

Ludwig closed his eyes and let his mind think of this animal, the sounds it made, the breath it breathed. His eyes still closed, he first heard the faith mechanical buzz of insects. He then saw the light change from beneath his eyelids. The faint red flicker was replaced by a bright red wash across the black. The smooth skull under his fingertips was replaced by what felt at once like scales, but also feathers. It was then he heard it, a deep and guttural growl. He heard lungs wheeze like bellows before a bellicose fire. He slowly opened his eyes. He was no longer in Prince Lobkowitz palace in Vienna. Instead he was in a forest the likes of which he hadn’t seen. It was teeming with life, in shapes and form unimaginable but there was only one life that mattered. He looked to where his hand had been resting, on the side of what could only be described as the most terrifying dragon ever to stalk the earth. Its eye opened, a yellow sun iris with an obscene black gash of a pupil scratched down its centre. It began to move as Ludwig slowly edged away, trying to make as little sound as possible. The creature, once it had reared itself to full size towered over the tree canopy. Taller than the clock in Vienna, taller than the siege towers he’d seen paintings of. It moved its head like a bird, almost quizzically looking at this dressed monkey that stood before a king. Then, without warning, it opened its giant maw a let rip a noise that shook the very earth they stood on. It was a rasping thin noise where it took in air from its nose and mouth, and then the roar. If Ludwig was to imagine the voice of Yaweh, he’d imagine it was this. A noise that would have terrified the bravest soldier, so for a musician like Ludwig, it consumed the very idea of fear within him. Beethoven stood stock still, petrified. It was only when the beast closed it’s mouth that Ludwig realised something far worse, He could merely hear the echo of the animal, nothing else. Not the buzzing that first greeted him, not even the beat of his own heart. He was deafened and that fear crushed that fear of the dragon, for that loss was more terrifying than the loss of his life. The loss of his legacy. He’d not thought of Giulietta his entire time in this pre-history. But now she was all he could think of. Of her, then of his parents, of his brothers, of Vienna and that skull in Prince Lobkowitz’s grand palace. He thought of the millions of futures snuffed out by his recklessness.

The Tyrannosaur had picked up his scent, it was different and incongruent in the creature’s world. It had no idea what a powdered wig was, but it would consume it. It knew not what pantaloons were, but it would consume them. It looked down, and amongst the gently swaying ferns and trees it saw Ludwig. It saw Ludwig running, hand on wig and coat unbuttoned and flapping, and gave chase.

Ludwig closed his eyes and continued to run, he thought of anything he could, but nothing seemed to pull him out of where he was. He thought of his grandfather, he thought of the sound Vienna’s cobbles made against a carriages wheels. Nothing seemed to work. He thought of that skull, the way he’d fingered it. Something then hit him from behind. At first he thought it was the tail, but it was another roar so loud it sent him stumbling over roots and earth till he collapsed in a heap. He pushed himself up with the palms of his hands, breathing heavily. He knew that if he survived this, he’d already pushed his fragile body too far and that he’d fall into another sickness. But even a sickness was better than this. To be ripped from time before he could share all the songs he’d heard was devastating. Still on his knees, he closed his eyes and thought of what he’d miss. Of all the important and life changing things he could feel, the thought that came to him was of the strudel from the shop down the road. When he’d smell the sugar turning to caramel he would put on his jacket and walk down, icing sugar pluming from the shop onto the street, enticing anyone caught in the sweet fog. Ludwig smelt it, and when he opened his eyes, he was in the back larder of the local bakery. Just then, the door opened and the owner was stood there, agog.

‘Mr Beethoven, is that you?’ he asked into the poorly lit larder.

Ludwig burst into tears as he shook. The baker merely walked to him, and gently lifted him from the floor. He called for one of Beethoven’s household to come collect him. His doctors were called and they said that the stress of composing, along with his weak constitution had resulted in a psychological incident. It was on a day shortly after his incident with the dragon when he lost his temper. He’d tried to grasp for any indication that his hearing was returning, so when he was interrupted by a member of staff he flew violently into a rage. Grasping and ripping he shouted unrepeatable curses to the heavens, and then finally retreated to his bed where he fell into a fever and had to recuperate for several months.

As he lay invalid on his bed. He thought of his hubris, his idiocy in travelling to a world he had no idea about in the hope of winning the affection of someone who would never feel truly the same. He was willing to tear the world down for this woman, but she was never willing to do the same for him. He thought of any potential legacy that had been snuffed out. He thought of the 3 things Giulietta had asked of him. How she’d wanted to hear the roar of a dragon, something he’d never wish on anyone. He thought of her wanting to hear the breath of god, and he thought of waterfalls. How Giulietta wanted someone to present these ideas to her as gifts or prizes because she wasn’t willing to look for them herself. To actually try and hear the voice of god in the sound of a stream or the gentle hum of bees. He then thought of the lament she wished to hear. He thought that this was the gift he would give her. He wanted to give her the sorrow she was lacking.

The music he created was stronger than something static like his bones. He didn’t want to calcify till he was static and unchanging. He wanted to live on through others experience of the world. He wanted the world to be seen as through his prism. His soul. His music.

Giulietta and Beethoven began to drift apart when he returned to good health. She had decided to marry Count Von Gallenburg, a low level musician but someone far more suited to her station, and return to her native Italy, settling in Naples. Before she left they had one final lesson. Giulietta had long given up playing, but the pretence enabled them to have one final goodbye.

Giulietta was sat at the piano when Beethoven entered the room. Time had always moved in a strange and organic way when they were together. It was only now, as they sat side by side, that time actually stopped. Ludwig looked at her. She was motionless, held in a breath that he’d caught. He smiled at her, but it was hollow, and from his bag he withdrew the music he’d written for her. At the top it said Sonata No. 14.

She still sat motionless. He smelt her hair, and it smelt of rose water. He looked at her small mouth, and he wished to kiss her. One stolen moment for himself. But she was engaged and was to leave Vienna, and Ludwig, if he was honest to himself, loved unrequited love the most. He walked to the door, took one last look at her and left. Time started the moment he’d stepped out the room. In front of Giulietta was the music for the Moonlight Sonata, and when she pressed the C sharp minor, tears sprang from her eyes as her heart tumbled inwards.

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