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11/16/2004 3:23 PM
Ashlynne stirred and awoke. At first all she was aware of was the blackness that surrounded her. Even as this registered to her sluggish mind, she wasn’t afraid. After a few minutes, she realized she was cold. She closed her eyes and methodically moved each limb, each joint, feeling out each muscle. Everything had responded as it should have. After a few more minutes... hours... she wasn’t sure which, she became aware of a faint light somewhere off to her left.
Numbly she turned her head, and noted a bright sliver of cold florescent light slipping under the door. Dimly she heard a cool female voice over a public announcement speaker.
Doctor Mulise to E.R. Code Blue. Stat.
She was in a hospital. She struggled with this major bit of information as she tried to remember how she had gotten here. Flashes of memory raced through her numb mind. Her last clear memory had been at work. She had been cleaning the counter at the small convenience store she’d worked at despite her mother’s protests. She had even chosen the ‘graveyard’ shift. Ashlynne had even heard all the ‘horror’ stories about the shift, but they had never bothered her. Finally the memory of That Night, began to clear.
It was well after midnight, she had started at ten o’clock. She had gotten through the pre-midnight rush of people headed home, truckers headed out, and the usual boozers trying to get all the alcohol that they could afford. She was wiping down the counters when He came in.
Suddenly the memory became muddled, hazed. He was shouting, waving something black at her. Her mind groped clumsily for the identity of the object and after agonizing moments, came up with only one possible answer... A Gun....
Pain. Or rather the memory of it, seared through her shoulder and then her belly. Someone screamed in agony then... was that her? The memory dimmed to a hazy light, the blare of a siren, and dimly heard frantic voices.
“He shot her and took the money”
“Ashlynne Marrow? Can you hear me?”
“What is this world coming to? Ashlynne, honey, come on, stay with us now...”
She felt a mask go over her nose and mouth, then sweet cool air filling her laboring lungs. She felt hands lift her, then strap her down as their voices receded even further.
She had been shot.
Her mind began to pick up the fragmented pieces and the realization hit her. She had been shot, once in the chest and again in the gut. By all reason she should be dead. Impulsively she pushed the thought away as she slowly sat up.
The sheet that covered her fell down around her waist, revealing the fact that she wore nothing at all. Her apparent nudity was lost in the light of another revelation. Her right hand searched the skin of her left shoulder. To find nothing but the same smooth, flawless flesh that had always been there.
Abruptly the haze of her mind cleared, and the fog that clouded her thoughts was forced back by the dawning truth. The sharp, insistent reality that she had been shot, that she should be dead...
Ashlynne’s attention focused on the table she was sitting on. Stainless Steel. Cold and unyielding. Her emerald gaze flitted around the room as she eyes adjusted to the gloom. All sorts of medical implements were set on trays and counters. She saw them all, but only recognized a few.
A large curved saw was the most prominent. Used for Autopsies, to crack the sternum open. This time the truth slammed home, She should have been dead. She had been dead.
And now she wasn’t. She had been shot. Twice, with nothing to show for it. She should have been terrified, she should be screaming. But she wasn’t. Immediately she felt a different danger... if she had died, of two gunshot wounds, and now sitting on a cold autopsy table awaiting to be cut open... the wounds were gone, she was alive... what would they do to her then?
All sorts of possibilities raced through her mind then. Tests, all manners of them. The last thing she wanted to be was some sort of lab rat. She eased off of the table and wrapped the sheet around her, alert for sounds, footsteps.
Now her heart began to race in fear. Fear of being caught. She watched out of the tiny window uncertainly. She looked up and down the hall as far as the angle she was looking in would allow her. Gathering her courage, she opened the door. She slipped down the hall and noted another door. She tried the handle, and opened the door. Easing the door closed, she looked around, to find herself in some sort of doctor or nurses lounge. A row of lockers lined the far wall and hoping to find some clothing, she headed for them.
Fifteen minutes later she had managed to find a pair of sweat pants that weren’t too big, and a slightly oversized scrub shirt. She ran her fingers through her long dark brown curls, knowing that she must look a mess. Sighing, knowing that there was little she could do, she slipped on a pair of tennis shoes that she found, they were half a size too small, but she’d manage.
With that she slipped out of the lounge again, looking for an exit....
11/16/2004 8:30 PM
He sat at a table at a Waffle House not far outside of town. He wore a long, brown, suede trench coat, black cowboy hat, boots, jeans, and a white t-shirt hidden behind the buttons of the jacket. His table sat in a far corner, and he sipped his coffee slowly. He would not pay attention to those around him, he rarely did. They annoyed him. Their talk of lives and problems were too much for him to listen to. Their problems were petty compared to his.
He sat back and looked out the window. The morning was cold and the wind bit, even through his jacket. The cold reminded him of his reality. He slowly stood from the table and left a tip for the waitress, and payed at the register, careful with the way he handled the money. He could not always control his contacts....
He walked towards the door, burring his hands deep in the jacket's pockets and squinting his eyes as he pushed the door open with his shoulder, attempting to guard from the cold. If he would have been thinking he would have brought his sunglasses with him. He started his slow walk into town, having business to tend to.
A laugh rang out from behind him, and a rock rolled by his boot on the sidewalk. He let out a sigh, wishing he had not been seen. The preps from school thought they owned everything, including the people as well. Of course, Pheonix had to be their guinea pig this moring. Another rock came by, this time sailing right by his head. He grew annoyed. As a rock soared through the bitter air at Pheonix's back, Pheonix smiled. The rock slowly descended and landed a few steps behind him. "Rocks are harder to throw than balls," Pheonix mocked, not bothering to turn and face them; he would rather keep a steady path.
Enraged, the small group of students that had been following him all picked up rocks and began to hurl them as hard as they could at Pheonix, but no matter how hard they threw and how direct the course appeared to be, they all fell short of their mark. Pheonix continued walking down the sidewalk like nothing was happening until finally the rocks stopped coming and the students gave up their pointless trying.
“You showed a lot of tolerance there”, a voice said. A woman stepped out from behind the corner of a building. She was tall with long silver-gold hair that came all the way to her waist. Her features were sharply honed into her face, as if chiselled from marble.
She was tall and wore jeans and an expensive looking leather jacket, but it wasn’t just the fancy clothes. There was something not quite right about her. She was no ordinary human.
She lifted up a pair of dark sunglasses to reveal eyes as blue and as clear as sapphires. They pierced through his heart like x-rays as she studied him. After making a quick character judgement, she assessed him as neutral and offered a smile.
“I would have been tempted to throw a few stones back at those creeps”, she shrugged her shoulders; “but tolerance was never my strong point. My name is Anika Vanir”, the woman said, as she reached out a hand in greeting. There was a ring on her right hand. It held the crest of the Vanir family, a silver wolf on blue.
12/12/2004 1:15 PM
The air lays still on such a soultry day where it seems that every step leads to more dulled hum drum silence. A soft, subtle sound begins to fill the air, slowly building in rythim and intensity as it bekkons the ears of those caught in the lulling melody to listen. A man sits cross legged with his faded jeans and half buttoned flanel shirt, slowly bringing the bow across the stings while leaning for and aft of his cap and case where glint and shine of coin form the passers by lay.
A tussle seems to have become invoked to a low degree as rocks begin to take flight toward the figure of some gentleman walking from the caffe. Taking interest in watching the following developements and picking new points to change the rythims of his piece, his amusements begin to begot his curiosity.
As the man walks by, one of the rocks takes a skip and lands in his cap. Momentarily stopping play, the violinist takes his hand and removes the rock, lays it outside of his cap, and resumes playing.
The violin takes up new and varied intensity as the man is confronted by a woman. The hopes are the customers will be betwixt by the music and make a kindly donation, to a worthy cause.
12/12/2004 9:44 PM
"Aw, shit!" Samantha said under her breath. "I'm going to be soooo late! Oh, they better not fire me!"
The young woman quickly grabbed her McDonald's viser, and the keys to her apartment. Her cat, Milo, stared at her reproachfully. She sighed and scratched the top of his head.
"Sorry about the language," she apologized. "Look, if I don't get to work, we're both going to lose our food. Love you sweetie!"
Great, she thought as she grabbed her backpack and rushed out the door. I've become some weird cat lady.
She locked the apartment door, and raced down the hall and down a flight of stairs to the bottom of the building. It was a run down place, but she had made the most of her little on bedroom apartment. As she exited the building, she noticed a small commotion across the street at the Waffle House.
She frowned, and, knowing fully well that any further delay would get her fired, went across the street to investigate. There was a group of teenage boys, throwing rocks at another boy. Just outside the entrance to the Waffle House was a violin player. Samantha ignored him, and walked up to the boys.
"Hey, you punks!" she shouted. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Get lost!"
One of the youths shouted something she couldn't quite make out, and flipped her the bird. Nevertheless, they did take off. Samantha ignored them, and turned her attention to the target of their attack. He was accompanied by a strange woman.
Funny, I didn't see her there before, Samantha thought. She walked up to the pair, tossing in a five in the violinists case as she passed him.
"Hey, you alright?"
12/12/2004 10:27 PM
“Hello” said Anika Vanir as the new woman approached her and the youth. Anika too had noted the carefully played notes coming from the violin player, but for the moment she did little more than cast a cursory eye over the figure.
She would speak to the minstrel soon she decided, but first she too was concerned for the young man. “I am just trying to find out the answer to that question myself”, she said to the newcomer. “My name is Anika Vanir” she introduced herself. “And I have yet to learn the name of our young friend here”, she said with a sly smile.
12/13/2004 10:15 PM
Feelings more then that of mere joy soon encompase the aura of mood surrounding the melody at hand. Though profit is in this way normal gained to shut him up, he feels some small measure of improvement and betterment to society.
Five dollars is more then he has made for a while now, and thinks he to himself, " Now i can buy a fancy can of them spaghetti O's". but this is not a disconserting view on life that if felt.
Taking a hand from the violin to re-bundle his hair in the tail at the back of his head, straightening the fraid edges of brown that lay mangeled and seemingly always to remain in a fray. He takes on his best impression of a smile and stands up, walking near the now small crowd forming in front of him. "Maybe if I walk around them some more, I can make them feel better about life" he thinks " They were kind enough to donate their own earnings, so I should try and play my absolute best for appeasement"
12/15/2004 1:13 PM
Pheonix reached for the new persona's hand, notpaying attention to the violin. Music was fully understood by him; he played the guitar. Such simple melodies and improvision were the least of his thoughts, which were now on this person before him. He shook her hand in time to realize even more attention had been caught from another girl, her speach seeming frantic.
"I am fine," he told the second girl, then looked to the first, thinking 'I have things to do, but maybe they can wait.... rushing off will simply attract more attention.' "My name is Pheonix," he announced. "I tolerate this immaturity because I must. What else will a seventeen year old boy do in such a situation?" He paused, his hopes set on this new girl not realizing his curse.
12/25/2004 7:26 PM
A red headed teen walked on the street past the waffle house, smiling as she saw two ladies flanking some guy. She knew it wasnt her business and continued on her way to the hospital for her externship. Kitti wanted to be a nurse for as long as she could remember.
When she arrived at the hospital, she went around the side to the nurses lounge enterance. She unlocked the door with her keys and came out of the small hall that lead to the nurses lounge. When she saw someone, obviously not staff nor extern, she stopped dead in the doorway.
"Who are you?? What are you doing in here??"
[Edited by Akimae_Joulan on Thursday, January 13, 2005 4:37 PM]
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