Post by Kogo Shuko on Jul 16, 2012 10:28:54 GMT -5
This is a short I wrote for a friend. He gave me a song title (When Will You Die, by They Might Be Giants) and told me to create a story with those five simple words.
This is that story - inspired by Christopher Pike's style.
This story has mild swearing (perhaps one or two words), and includes death. It also includes teenage life, which I may have gotten wrong, as I'm about 6 years beyond that part of my life.
I hope you enjoy it, as this is my first real contribution to the board. ^_^
***
I looked up at the sign flickering above the shadowed door and then back to my friends. “Do we really have to do this?” I asked, almost pleading.
“Come on, Becky. It’ll be fun!” Mike said, as he slung his arm around my shoulders.
Mike and I had been going steady for two months now, and this was his idea of a birthday present. The rest of the gang – Stacy, Corey, Steph, and Meghan – had thought it was a grand idea, and here we all were, at Miz Loulou’s Palmistry Palace.
Miz Loulou’s wasn’t exactly located in a nice area of town, either. Half of the streetlights on this street were either burnt out or busted, and just two doors down was a tattoo parlour that was open late. Next to the tattoo place was a seedy bar with greasy biker types smoking cigarettes and drinking beer out of plastic cups standing around. I would not be caught dead in this area of town by myself, and I was barely convinced to walk down here with my friends.
The windows of Miz Loulou’s weren’t exactly smoky, but rather caked with so much grime that it was impossible to see inside. All that I could make out was a haze of light beyond the dirt. Above the door hung the flickering neon sign; “Miz Loulou’s Palimistry Palace” was lit in a garish purple, and underneath the letters was a glowing purple hand.
I sighed and committed myself to doing this. What harm would come of it, really? Aside from wasting thirty bucks on listening to the old lady make shit up, that is. “Fine,” I said and followed my friends into the dimly lit shop. The interior was no nicer than the exterior, with long drapes of dark blue velvet cascading from the walls, and flickering faux candelabra lighting the way to the reception desk.
The reception desk was an old wooden antique thing full of scratches with dust layering almost everything. There was an old looking desk bell sitting in the middle of it, and Mike bravely flicked the little button so that the thing dinged, the high note reverberating throughout the place.
I was fully expecting to see a little hunchbacked lady with grey hair and whiskers protruding from a wart to come through the beaded curtains. But instead, a young lady, not more than twenty-five years old came sashaying through the beads, her long black hair reaching her waist in waves. She was pretty, and I couldn’t find one whisker anywhere. This was Miz Loulou?
“Hello, I am Miz Loulou. I’m afraid we do not conduct group palm readings.” Miz Loulou said, a cold smile on her face.
Stacy giggled, “We only want Becky to get a palm reading. We’re just here to make sure she goes through with it.”
“And which one of you is Becky?” Miz Loulou asked, and I noticed a faint accent in her voice. I briefly wondered where she came from.
Mike gave me a push and I stepped in front of my friends. “I’m Becky,” I said quietly. Despite thinking that this was all nonsense, I felt a bit uneasy. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if things like this were actually real. Whoever said I didn’t have a good imagination?
“And why are you here Becky?” Miz Loulou asked, as she motioned for me to follow her into the room beyond the beaded curtains.
I followed her through, but when my friends tried to come too, Miz Loulou shook her head. “Only two of you will be permitted to witness the palm reading, no more.”
They conferred, and finally Mike and Steph moved forward while everyone else went back to the reception area.
“So what is the occasion, Becky?” Miz Loulou asked as she sat down behind a little table with a white cloth draped over it. In the middle of the table sat what had to be the gaudiest looking crystal ball.
“It’s Becky’s birthday!” Steph said, and immediately giggled.
Miz Loulou eyed Steph with some contempt and my friend’s laughter trailed away into silence.
“Please have a seat, Becky,” she said, and I joined her at the table. She pulled the chain on an old lamp sitting on the corner of the table, and the light flickered on. “Have you ever had a palm reading before?” She asked as she beckoned for me to display my hands to her.
I brought my hands out of my lap and forced myself to put them on the table in front of me, one on either side of the crystal ball. “No, I’ve never done anything like this before.”
Miz Loulou grabbed my left hand and looked into my eyes, “Don’t believe in it, do you?”
I shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know if I do or I don’t.”
Miz Loulou nodded with satisfaction and scrutinized my palm. Mike and Steph started whispering and Miz Loulou looked up. “If you do not hush up, you will have to leave. I need to concentrate.”
My friends shut their mouths and Miz Loulou picked up my hand again. I felt her fingernail trace lines on my palm while she muttered to herself. She looked up at me, a look of concern on her face, “Are you left handed?”
I nodded, and she dropped my hand. “That might explain it,” she said to herself, and picked up my right hand, going over the lines once more. As her fingers spread across my palm, I heard her whisper, “This can’t be right.”
I looked at her a bit closer. “What do you mean?”
She looked up at me, only now apparently aware that she had a client in front of her and not some bodiless hand.
“Usually when one reads a palm, the lines tell you of the past, present, and future.”
“Are you saying there’s something wrong with my palms?” I asked, feeling a strange sense of foreboding.
“Well, that’s the thing. I can see your past, and your present, but there’s no future.”
I looked at her, wondering if she was pulling my leg. “Tell me about my past, then.”
Miz Loulou huffed for a second, and then picked up my hand again. “You grew up in a split family. Your brother lives with your father, while you live with your mother and sister. School has been tough, but you’ve managed to get by without any incident. Currently, you are in a short relationship, and have only a few friends – I suspect the people here tonight make up your entire pack of friends. Did I get it right?” She gave me a sarcastic look, knowing full well she had.
I stared at her, my mouth hanging open. “How did you know?”
“It’s all in the lines, Becky.”
For a second I thought perhaps Mike had set her up to this, but quickly dismissed it. Why would he be so creepy?
“So, how else can you see my future? Like, will I get married? Have kids? When will I die?”
“When will you die?” Miz Loulou looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “You want to know that? Most people don’t want that knowledge hanging over them.”
I shrugged. “It would be interesting to know.”
“Well, according to your lines, you should be dead now or very shortly.” Miz Loulou said ominously, but then turned to her crystal ball. “However, let me look into the mists to see what your future holds for you.”
I was silent as she stared into the crystal ball for what seemed like ages. I saw no mists, and was soon starting to think that she had hypnotised herself, and that perhaps I could get out of here before she awoke and we had to pay her. Just as I was beginning to squirm in my seat, however, she looked up, her dark brown eyes scared.
“You have no future,” she whispered to me. “As it is, you’re living on borrowed time.”
Mike suddenly stood up, “This is bullshit. I’m not paying for you to terrify my girlfriend. Stupid fraud.”
He grabbed my arm and hauled me out of the chair, and out of Miz Loulou’s Palmistry Palace. Our friends followed silently. We huddled into a large group and headed down the road away from the seedy business district and into a friendlier neighbourhood, where we all gathered at a bus stop. I shivered as a sudden chill descended on me, although no one else seemed to be aware of the cold.
Soon Cory and Stacy had picked up their bus, and Mike’s arm was around me, keeping me warm. Meghan wished me a happy birthday as she climbed on her bus, and then I got a big wet kiss from Mike as he had to leave. Steph and I picked up the same bus and headed back to our neighbourhood.
We lived just down the street from each other, and usually walked to school. When the bus dropped us off at our stop, we hugged, and parted ways. The chill I had felt earlier had returned, and I started thinking about what Miz Loulou had said. I was living on borrowed time. Part of me believed it, sadly. And I looked both ways very carefully before I crossed the road and headed down the street to my house.
I made it safely to my house, and quickly unlocked the door. I stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind me. I held my breath and listened. The sound of the television was faint from the back den, and I removed my shoes and tiptoed down the hall to find my step-father sleeping in his easy chair with the game on. I could tell he was sleeping by just how loudly he was snoring.
My feelings of unease quickly dissipated as I realized I was safe at home with my family. The psychic was obviously full of it. Living on borrowed time. As if. I went up the stairs, casting aside the slight worry that had been nagging me since we left Miz Loulou’s, finally admitting to myself that it had been nothing but hogwash. I checked in on my mom and sister to find them both fast asleep in bed, and then went to my room where I dropped off my bag, and picked up my pajamas.
I headed down the hall to the washroom and closed the door behind me. I didn’t want my step-father waking up and walking in on me in the shower. I turned on the faucets, and undressed while the water warmed up. I stared at myself in the mirror for a few seconds, taking in my dark brown hair and big hazel eyes. There was no way I was living on borrowed time. I hadn’t even decided what college I was going to next year.
Shrugging off the last of my doubt, and concentrating on what precisely I intended to do with my life after graduation, I pulled the shower curtain back and stepped into the tub. I grabbed my shampoo and began lathering my hair, taking my time to ensure it was completely washed. I rinsed it out thoroughly and then applied the conditioner. While I let the conditioner settle, I began washing up, the warm water pelting my back.
The sound of the downstairs toilet flushing almost registered before the water turned ice cold, and then flashed to hot. I screamed, and jumped, cursing my step-father the entire time. As I gained my balance, my left foot landed against the side of the tub, and my arms shot out, as I tried to find something to grasp.
But luck was not in my favour that night as I fell back. The last thing I remember is a sharp pain at the base of my skull as I hit the faucet. I heard a sickening snap, and then my life was reduced to pitch black.
This is that story - inspired by Christopher Pike's style.
This story has mild swearing (perhaps one or two words), and includes death. It also includes teenage life, which I may have gotten wrong, as I'm about 6 years beyond that part of my life.
I hope you enjoy it, as this is my first real contribution to the board. ^_^
***
I looked up at the sign flickering above the shadowed door and then back to my friends. “Do we really have to do this?” I asked, almost pleading.
“Come on, Becky. It’ll be fun!” Mike said, as he slung his arm around my shoulders.
Mike and I had been going steady for two months now, and this was his idea of a birthday present. The rest of the gang – Stacy, Corey, Steph, and Meghan – had thought it was a grand idea, and here we all were, at Miz Loulou’s Palmistry Palace.
Miz Loulou’s wasn’t exactly located in a nice area of town, either. Half of the streetlights on this street were either burnt out or busted, and just two doors down was a tattoo parlour that was open late. Next to the tattoo place was a seedy bar with greasy biker types smoking cigarettes and drinking beer out of plastic cups standing around. I would not be caught dead in this area of town by myself, and I was barely convinced to walk down here with my friends.
The windows of Miz Loulou’s weren’t exactly smoky, but rather caked with so much grime that it was impossible to see inside. All that I could make out was a haze of light beyond the dirt. Above the door hung the flickering neon sign; “Miz Loulou’s Palimistry Palace” was lit in a garish purple, and underneath the letters was a glowing purple hand.
I sighed and committed myself to doing this. What harm would come of it, really? Aside from wasting thirty bucks on listening to the old lady make shit up, that is. “Fine,” I said and followed my friends into the dimly lit shop. The interior was no nicer than the exterior, with long drapes of dark blue velvet cascading from the walls, and flickering faux candelabra lighting the way to the reception desk.
The reception desk was an old wooden antique thing full of scratches with dust layering almost everything. There was an old looking desk bell sitting in the middle of it, and Mike bravely flicked the little button so that the thing dinged, the high note reverberating throughout the place.
I was fully expecting to see a little hunchbacked lady with grey hair and whiskers protruding from a wart to come through the beaded curtains. But instead, a young lady, not more than twenty-five years old came sashaying through the beads, her long black hair reaching her waist in waves. She was pretty, and I couldn’t find one whisker anywhere. This was Miz Loulou?
“Hello, I am Miz Loulou. I’m afraid we do not conduct group palm readings.” Miz Loulou said, a cold smile on her face.
Stacy giggled, “We only want Becky to get a palm reading. We’re just here to make sure she goes through with it.”
“And which one of you is Becky?” Miz Loulou asked, and I noticed a faint accent in her voice. I briefly wondered where she came from.
Mike gave me a push and I stepped in front of my friends. “I’m Becky,” I said quietly. Despite thinking that this was all nonsense, I felt a bit uneasy. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if things like this were actually real. Whoever said I didn’t have a good imagination?
“And why are you here Becky?” Miz Loulou asked, as she motioned for me to follow her into the room beyond the beaded curtains.
I followed her through, but when my friends tried to come too, Miz Loulou shook her head. “Only two of you will be permitted to witness the palm reading, no more.”
They conferred, and finally Mike and Steph moved forward while everyone else went back to the reception area.
“So what is the occasion, Becky?” Miz Loulou asked as she sat down behind a little table with a white cloth draped over it. In the middle of the table sat what had to be the gaudiest looking crystal ball.
“It’s Becky’s birthday!” Steph said, and immediately giggled.
Miz Loulou eyed Steph with some contempt and my friend’s laughter trailed away into silence.
“Please have a seat, Becky,” she said, and I joined her at the table. She pulled the chain on an old lamp sitting on the corner of the table, and the light flickered on. “Have you ever had a palm reading before?” She asked as she beckoned for me to display my hands to her.
I brought my hands out of my lap and forced myself to put them on the table in front of me, one on either side of the crystal ball. “No, I’ve never done anything like this before.”
Miz Loulou grabbed my left hand and looked into my eyes, “Don’t believe in it, do you?”
I shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know if I do or I don’t.”
Miz Loulou nodded with satisfaction and scrutinized my palm. Mike and Steph started whispering and Miz Loulou looked up. “If you do not hush up, you will have to leave. I need to concentrate.”
My friends shut their mouths and Miz Loulou picked up my hand again. I felt her fingernail trace lines on my palm while she muttered to herself. She looked up at me, a look of concern on her face, “Are you left handed?”
I nodded, and she dropped my hand. “That might explain it,” she said to herself, and picked up my right hand, going over the lines once more. As her fingers spread across my palm, I heard her whisper, “This can’t be right.”
I looked at her a bit closer. “What do you mean?”
She looked up at me, only now apparently aware that she had a client in front of her and not some bodiless hand.
“Usually when one reads a palm, the lines tell you of the past, present, and future.”
“Are you saying there’s something wrong with my palms?” I asked, feeling a strange sense of foreboding.
“Well, that’s the thing. I can see your past, and your present, but there’s no future.”
I looked at her, wondering if she was pulling my leg. “Tell me about my past, then.”
Miz Loulou huffed for a second, and then picked up my hand again. “You grew up in a split family. Your brother lives with your father, while you live with your mother and sister. School has been tough, but you’ve managed to get by without any incident. Currently, you are in a short relationship, and have only a few friends – I suspect the people here tonight make up your entire pack of friends. Did I get it right?” She gave me a sarcastic look, knowing full well she had.
I stared at her, my mouth hanging open. “How did you know?”
“It’s all in the lines, Becky.”
For a second I thought perhaps Mike had set her up to this, but quickly dismissed it. Why would he be so creepy?
“So, how else can you see my future? Like, will I get married? Have kids? When will I die?”
“When will you die?” Miz Loulou looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “You want to know that? Most people don’t want that knowledge hanging over them.”
I shrugged. “It would be interesting to know.”
“Well, according to your lines, you should be dead now or very shortly.” Miz Loulou said ominously, but then turned to her crystal ball. “However, let me look into the mists to see what your future holds for you.”
I was silent as she stared into the crystal ball for what seemed like ages. I saw no mists, and was soon starting to think that she had hypnotised herself, and that perhaps I could get out of here before she awoke and we had to pay her. Just as I was beginning to squirm in my seat, however, she looked up, her dark brown eyes scared.
“You have no future,” she whispered to me. “As it is, you’re living on borrowed time.”
Mike suddenly stood up, “This is bullshit. I’m not paying for you to terrify my girlfriend. Stupid fraud.”
He grabbed my arm and hauled me out of the chair, and out of Miz Loulou’s Palmistry Palace. Our friends followed silently. We huddled into a large group and headed down the road away from the seedy business district and into a friendlier neighbourhood, where we all gathered at a bus stop. I shivered as a sudden chill descended on me, although no one else seemed to be aware of the cold.
Soon Cory and Stacy had picked up their bus, and Mike’s arm was around me, keeping me warm. Meghan wished me a happy birthday as she climbed on her bus, and then I got a big wet kiss from Mike as he had to leave. Steph and I picked up the same bus and headed back to our neighbourhood.
We lived just down the street from each other, and usually walked to school. When the bus dropped us off at our stop, we hugged, and parted ways. The chill I had felt earlier had returned, and I started thinking about what Miz Loulou had said. I was living on borrowed time. Part of me believed it, sadly. And I looked both ways very carefully before I crossed the road and headed down the street to my house.
I made it safely to my house, and quickly unlocked the door. I stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind me. I held my breath and listened. The sound of the television was faint from the back den, and I removed my shoes and tiptoed down the hall to find my step-father sleeping in his easy chair with the game on. I could tell he was sleeping by just how loudly he was snoring.
My feelings of unease quickly dissipated as I realized I was safe at home with my family. The psychic was obviously full of it. Living on borrowed time. As if. I went up the stairs, casting aside the slight worry that had been nagging me since we left Miz Loulou’s, finally admitting to myself that it had been nothing but hogwash. I checked in on my mom and sister to find them both fast asleep in bed, and then went to my room where I dropped off my bag, and picked up my pajamas.
I headed down the hall to the washroom and closed the door behind me. I didn’t want my step-father waking up and walking in on me in the shower. I turned on the faucets, and undressed while the water warmed up. I stared at myself in the mirror for a few seconds, taking in my dark brown hair and big hazel eyes. There was no way I was living on borrowed time. I hadn’t even decided what college I was going to next year.
Shrugging off the last of my doubt, and concentrating on what precisely I intended to do with my life after graduation, I pulled the shower curtain back and stepped into the tub. I grabbed my shampoo and began lathering my hair, taking my time to ensure it was completely washed. I rinsed it out thoroughly and then applied the conditioner. While I let the conditioner settle, I began washing up, the warm water pelting my back.
The sound of the downstairs toilet flushing almost registered before the water turned ice cold, and then flashed to hot. I screamed, and jumped, cursing my step-father the entire time. As I gained my balance, my left foot landed against the side of the tub, and my arms shot out, as I tried to find something to grasp.
But luck was not in my favour that night as I fell back. The last thing I remember is a sharp pain at the base of my skull as I hit the faucet. I heard a sickening snap, and then my life was reduced to pitch black.
and that kills me