-So, some more from me then hey:P Not long though, it's pretty short but I had this sitting in my head and on paper for a while and it begged to be released in the wild, or so to speak :P The idea just came into my head when I was toying around with my own dogtags (not real ones mind you.).
- I kinda let the -which-Tracy-is-it-thing open to imagination, I like to think it's Scott who's sitting there with his dogtags, but some of you might imagine it's Alan or something (a bit unlikely but oh well..) I don't know if any of them -except Scott (well he was in the Airforce but anyway)- were in the army, or if they could've been drafted back then, but let's pretend it's possible, 'kay:P
-I'm working on two chapters of my Brothers and Fangs story by the way (or one large chapter but I think I'm gonna make it two medium sized ones..), Virgil fans might wanna hide in advance :P
-Oh, and for people who might be interested, I fixed up "Even the strongest fall." :D
Juud18
The room is nearly silent, except for breathing, and the tinging noise of two metal plates coming together. The plates hang from a chain that seems to exist of small silver beads stuck together to form a long necklace. It's in turn hanging from a man's hand, the silver beads wound around several fingers. The hand belongs to a young man, sitting forlorn on his bed, on a huge villa on a deserted island in the pacific. He's staring out of the window, but he's not seeing the trees outside, the pale blue sky above them, or the sea far away. His eyes are unfocused as if he's lost in some dark past he's vividly remembering.
The reason the plates collide is because the wind softly blows trough his open window, and he trembles ever so often, just hard enough to make it happen. He doesn't seem to hear what he's doing though. He isn't even aware of the patriarch of his family standing in the doorway of his room. Said patriarch hasn't made himself known either.
Jeff Tracy watches as his son sinks deeper and deeper into a self-induced depression, filled with memories and tales he probably hadn't even told the others since they were simply too horrific. Jeff decided not to disturb his son, as not to give the young man a heart attack, as deep submerged the man is in his memories. To disturb him now would mean a deathscare for sure...
The dogtags slip from suddenly slack fingers and Jeff watches as his son snaps out of his stupor and some unusual swearwords slip out under his breath.
"I thought your mother and I taught you better then that.." Jeff says, finally making himself seen and heard. He notices that his son's eyes aren't that blank any more as his face snaps up to look at the intruder, but that his face looks pained and shocked at the same time.
The younger man fumbles to pick up the dogtags from the floorboards but his father beats him to it. Jeff picks them up almost reverently and places the plates in his palm. He looks down on them and sees they're his son's.
He thinks back of the day his son was drafted, and feels the familiar ache in his heart. His son had always been pretty mature, but when he came back from his forced career in the army, he was a different man. God knew what had happened over there but if it was anything like a bad day in IR, it hadn't been pretty..
"Father.." His son muttered. His eyes were slightly wide, and Jeff noted his son was anxious.
"What's wrong?" Jeff asks him. "Do.. Do you want to talk about it?"
The younger man looks out of the window for a moment, and all kinds of emotions flit across his handsome face. From sad to happy, from hurting to gratefulness. Jeff waits patiently as his son fights with himself, to speak with his father about his experiences or to leave it inside his mind. He has that stubborn streak, whether he learned it from his brothers or (inherited it) from him, it was always there, and it made him a tough nut to crack sometimes..
"I just..." Talk to me, son... "I was just thinking about my time in the army.." The younger man says. He looks as if he wants to say more, but as Jeff waits, nothing more comes out.
He places a hand on his son's arm and gently asks:" What else? You want to talk about it?" Then he adds as a joke:" Exchange horror stories?"
His son smiles ever so slight and Jeff pats his arm before letting go. "It was just so bad over there, you know.." His son starts talking, and Jeff listens. Listens deep into the night, while his son talks his horrors into the world...
So how was that? ;p
Juud18