Formspring.me lol

What do you consider the most beautiful thing in the world?

Laughter. Not just HAHAHAHAHA-that-was-so-funny-i'm-literally-rotfl laughter but the laughter that only shows up after you've cried your eyes out because of some terrible event in your life; whether the death of a loved one, or a particularly bad breakup or just you got the world on your shoulders and you can't take it anymore kind of cry and along comes the one person in your life; the best friend, the soul mate, whatever you wanna call 'em, and they say one thing. ONE single insignificant thing and you laugh. It sounds almost alien after all the blubbering you've been doing but it's this spontaneous expulsion of laughter exploding from deep within your battered core and they join you and for however long that laughter lasts, the sadness has transformed into mirth.

ENG 332: ReVised Linkage

I revised and reposted my stories onto my LJ. Here are the links if you're interested.

Darling Jo & Slumbering Seth

I'm actually really proud of this story ('cuz really they're two parts of a whole) and really want to keep workin' on 'em till I deem 'em perfect ^_^

ENG 332: Story #3 Opening w. POV IV

Third Person ala Jane Austin

White. Bleached. Sterilized. Washed. White. The hospital room, like many and almost all hospital rooms, brought to mind insane asylums and made the patients and those who came to visit them question their sanity. Seth was no different, neither was Micheal but he was asleep and as such need not deal with it.

Seth stood out the window, looking down to see his car and the dent on the left side door but as he was on the tenth floor, there was no conceivable way to actually make it out. He was a man who never overlooked mistakes but rather expanded them, made them worst because it was his belief they should have never happened to begin with. Micheal was the exact opposite but he had no say in how his brother worked, especially now that he was catatonic.

Today was the seventh day of Micheal’s stay in St. Vincent’s Hospital. He was under a medical cocktail meant to rearrange the chemicals in his system damaged by the heavy methamphetamine use. His brother, as only living relative within an eight-state radius had been with him since, leaving only to go home and shower away the grime and guilt that collected. Safe to say the latter could not be relieved, no matter how much one would lather.

While Seth was strolling along memory lane, good or bad but mostly bad, he played with a lighter in his pocket. It was a simple nicotine fidget he’d suffer from when he wasn’t allotted his cigarette of the day despite him having a perfectly unopened package sitting in the window ledge for about the third day. It was at that moment, somewhere amongst the images of a smiling Joseph Wheeler, that nurse Margaret James came into the room, beginning her rounds for this afternoon.

She was forty-three with a twenty-year stint at St. Vincent’s and a thirty-year-old look. She read Micheal’s chart and inwardly sighed. She had a soft spot for drug addicts as her own, now dead son was a renowned heroine addict. With all the motherly affection of Theresa herself, she approached Micheal and went about clearing his face of stray strands of hair. She’d seen Seth upon his arrival the first night he admitted his brother and now looking at Michael found the resemble between the two as quite strong.

“ He looks just like you.”

ENG 332: Story #3 Opening w. POV III

Dialogue Only

“ He’ll be okay.”

“ Yeah.”

“ He’s a tough kid man.”

“ Yeah.”

“ Stop blamin’ yaself.”

“ Yeah.”

“ Let’s go to Disney and beat Mickey Mouse.”

“ Yeah.”

“ Fucker! Ya not listening ta me at all!”

“ Huh? Oh…m’sorry Joey just…”

“ Dude, I told ya, it’s not ya fault!”

“ I could have stopped him.”

“ So he could go do it behind ya back and really get messed up?”

“ No.”

“ Then?”

“ Just. I’m suppose to be his big brother and protect him.”

“ I know dat. He knows dat but he still a kid. Ya gotta let him fuck up here and there.”

“ Joey, he broke his leg.”

“ Yeah and? He’s alive an’ in pain an’ now he KNOWS not to pull a Dave Mira.” Joey gave Seth a smack on the back and smiled. “ Now come on, let’s go inside an’ watch some zombie movies an’ da give da kid nightmares as punishment.”

“ Fine, let me just put this away.” Seth motioned to the mangled bicycle still sitting in the backseat of the car.

“ Alrightey. Meet ya inside.” Joey opened the passenger door and stepped out but not before leaning over and kissing Seth on the cheek and laughing.

“ What was that for?” Seth called out after the four seconds it took Joey to get out the car and around the front to head inside his house.

“ Excuse me.” A new voice entered the room and broke Seth away from the memory of the day his brother broke his leg attempting to master an ollie. He ignored it, sure it was yet another nurse come in to take Micheal's temperature. That’s all they ever did. Take his temperature, check his vitals, change his IVs and tell Seth to wait. He’d been much happier inside his head, away from the tension and guilt of his brother’s hospital room.

ENG 332: Story #3 Opening w. POV II

First Person Unreliable
w.
Goddamnit. There’s nothing but fucking white everywhere. The tiles are white, the wallpaper is off-white, even the fucking curtains are so pale they might as well be white! Is this what crazy people feel like? I stared down the wall one last time before staring out the window, looking for anything that can bring back my sanity but there’s nothing out there except for some beat-up buick and my impala. Can’t even see the dent from up here.

I’m fidgety and can’t keep from playing with the lighter in my pocket to remind myself that I’m alive and that this is really happening and that this isn’t a dream. I still have a pack of ciggs left, just sitting there on the ledge. Staring me down, begging to be smoked. If Mikey were awake he’d probably be pretty psyched. I’ve gone a WHOLE three days with it still in the plastic. Too bad he’s been asleep since he got here a week ago.

“ Excuse me.”

Fuck off nurse. Just take his temperature and go. That’s all you guys ever do. Take his temperature, check his vitals, change his IVs and tell me to wait. You know what? I’m tired of waiting. Sick of standing here like a sack of useless…

“ He looks just like you.”

Okay what? They usually don’t make small talk so I looked over and saw Joseph. Fucking Joseph.

He was leaning over the rail of Micheal’s bed and pushing aside the small hairs that clung to his face from sweat. He was wearing the Ramones shirt he stole from me senior year. There weren’t any black streaks in his hair and his jeans only had one rip in them.

I swear I was trying to talk but it was like someone shoved a handful of peanut butter down my throat and I was too busy un-sticking my tongue from the roof of my mouth to get anything out. That’s when he looked up at me and smiled and I didn’t see any fangs.

“ He’s making great progress.” And just like that he was gone because he was never really there to begin with. It was some nurse. Yeah she was blond but that’s where the similarities between her and Joseph ended. “ I know this must be hard on you but he’s going to pull through. He’s a strong one.”

She was trying to sound convincing, like she really thought Micheal was sleeping and not under some heavy cocktail of chemicals to rearrange the ones he fucked over with the meth. I wasn’t mad at her for trying but fake sympathy was the last thing I needed. “ Just ask for Maggie if you ever need anything.”

She finally walked out with her head down. I guess the silent treatment really works.

ENG 332: Story #3 Opening w. POV I

Third Person - Following Main Character

White. Bleached. Sterilized. Washed. White. Seth wondered if this was what insane asylum patients felt, this clench and coil at the back of his eyes as they followed the patterns of ivory and gray tiles. The curtains were pastel, barely blue that matched Micheal’s hospital gown.

Seth stood at the window, looking out over a parking lot empty save for a beat up Buick with missing plates and his own Chevy Impala. There was a small dent on the left door he was searching for but was too high up for it to even be noticed.
There was a cigarette lighter in the left pocket of his jeans that he was currently closing and reopening over and over again, relishing in the muffled snapping sounds. There was an unopened pack of Malboros sitting on top the window ledge for about the third day now. Micheal had been admitted to St. Vincent’s for a week.

“ Excuse me.”

Seth ignored the voice, sure it was yet another nurse come in to take Micheal’s temperature. That’s all they ever did. Take his temperature, check his vitals, change his IVs and tell Seth to wait.

“He looks just like you.”

This was different. Seth turned his head to catch a glimpse of a nurse and found something else.

He was leaning over the railing of Micheal’s bed and brushing aside the little strands of hair from the slumbering face. He wore a faded black shirt with the words RAMONES barely visible. The same shirt Joseph claimed after stealing from him their senior year of high school. There were no black streaks in his hair, it was his all natural dirty blond muss that curled around his ears and nape of his neck.

Seth’s throat went dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. Joseph looked up to smile at him. There were no fangs.

“ He’s making great progress.” And he was gone. The nurse was blond, slender, and comforting smile all nurses learn from years of late shifts and flatlines. A smile that said ‘I’m sorry, I’m here for you, at least until you’re gone’.
Seth couldn’t respond.

“ I know this must be hard on you but he’s going to pull through. He’s a strong one.” She bowed her head, afraid she’d said too much and turned away. “ Just ask for Maggie if you ever need anything.” She was out the door slower than Seth would have liked.