..There Is No Future..
Author's notes: Ha, "author's notes", more like caution sign.. anyways,
this is my first official fanfic. That means that I'd really like feedback. I
really don't care what you say (but just in case it's bad, sugarcoating is
allowed), I just want to know what I'm doing wrong when I write and
some tips on how to improve my writing would be nice. E-mail me @
TangoRENT@aol.com
P.S. This is set about 2 years or so in the future, and Mimi has since
pasted on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mark tightened his old coat around himself as another cold gust
of air blew past him. The buildings surrounding the small cemetary made
it hard to tell exactly where in the sky the sun had run off to, but
Mark was willing to bet he had a good thirty minutes or so before it was
totally dark out. His grip on the bouquet of assorted flowers he'd had
loosened, and the entire bundle hit the ground on a stranger's gravestone.
"Oh, sorry Mr. .. Mr. Johnson..? Jackson?" Mark squinted at the
gravestone, even with his glasses on, the print was too faded to make-
out. "Just..uh, sorry."
Mark gathered up the flowers, feeling a bit guilty about dropping
them earlier, he left one flower at the gravestone that was unreadable.
He trudged through the eerily silent place, until he found what he'd been
searching for. He smiled slightly to himself and set all but one of the
flowers down neatly in front of the fresh gravestone, his friendly smile
soon left along with his composure as audible whimpers escaped his throat,
as he still fought to control himself.
"Hi Mimi," Mark's voice broke as he said her name. " I hope that
this is a good enough spot for you. We all tried to find a better place
for you, but we decided that it would be best if we all stuck together."
The one flower Mark had kept in his hand was placed in front of
the gravestone next the Mimi's.
"Hey, Angel, still dancing to the beat of your own drum?" A
smile crept up into Mark's face, and bloomed in true happiness for
a moment. "You two are probably having the biggest
party in heaven. I can see it now, God in zebra-printed tights. Only
you could get him into those." The smile slowly faded.
The broodish filmmaker's head dropped. He tried the best he could,
but being in the presence of the gravestones of his two friends broke
down every barrier he'd tried to build up since that morning when he'd
decided that it was time to visit. He'd remembered trying to convince
Roger to come with him, but Roger's continuous excuse was "I'm not ready
yet." Mark had never even concidered Roger's words an excuse until the
subject had wandered into a chat between him and Maureen. She'd been in a
bad mood, so Mark wasn't totally sure whether that was really her view on
it, but that one small comment changed Mark's view on Roger ever so slightly.
Then again, it had been a year since Mimi's death, and two since
Angel's. Everyone had changed, whether for better or for worse. Collins
and Benny, oddly enough, had a small fling right before Mimi's death. After
that, Benny broke it off, deciding to "permenently leave New York."
Unfortunetly for him, 'permenently' came in the embodiment of a plane-
crash. He died exactly 2 months after Mimi, only Collins and Mark attended
the funeral. Benny's wife, Allison, claimed her excuse for not attending was
business.
Collins had been heartbroken, even though he didn't love Benny like
Angel, he felt guilty. Guilty for seemingly betraying Angel while being with
Benny, and then forcing Benny onto the plane that ended his life. Collins fell
into a deep depression for a few months. Then, he simply and suddenly
changed. He became a full-time anarchist, and as of the present day had been in
police custidy a total of 4 times.
Roger had closed up even more than before he met Mimi. Her death
crushed him, though he'd never admit it. He'd attempted suicide once, but
Mark had walked in on him. Roger tried to take and overdose of Mark's
depression pills he'd found in the cupboard, only to collapse in a heap on
the floor, crying. Mark tried his best to get Roger to go to the Life Support
meetings, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. Mark tried everything he could
to help Roger, but in the end all he could do was hide his pills.
Mark had spent his last few days at a hopital, where the docters
would stare at him and scratch their heads. He'd been blacking out constantly
for the past few months, sometimes just staying silent a few minutes and forget-
ing what'd happened. Sometimes he'd faint, even if he was walking on the sidewalk,
it would happen suddenly and it frightened the docters. They'd told him that
he should never be alone, if for example, he'd faint while walking down a flight
of stairs. That news did chill Mark, but he didn't dare ask any of his other
friends to babysit him; they all had their own problems.
Maureen and Joanne had a rough time, but not half as rough as the rest
of them had had. They'd toured the U.S., performing in small staged protests
and sometimes even short plays. Once they'd reached California, in a moment
of spontaneity, flew to Hawaii and got married. Their current residence was in a
comfortable shack on the beach.
Mark looked up at Mimi's gravestone a moment and shook his head slightly,
clearing his mind and the fear of blacking out crept into his mind again. He
took off his glasses and squeezed his eyes shut a moment, allowing the last of
his tears to fall. Mark swiped away the older, drying tears from his glasses and
put them back on.
"I have to go now, guys. I'll probably see you in a few weeks, maybe I
can get Roger to come this time," Mark's eyes wandered to Mimi's gravestone
again, "I promise I'll do my best."
"As for you," Mark turned to Angel's gravestone," We bailed Collins again
last friday; he's fine." Mark kissed his fingers and lightly brushed both their
gravestones, and stood up from his crouching position. The breeze bit at him
immediately and he tightened his old coats around himself again, and began his
long walk home.
Author's notes: Ha, "author's notes", more like caution sign.. anyways,
this is my first official fanfic. That means that I'd really like feedback. I
really don't care what you say (but just in case it's bad, sugarcoating is
allowed), I just want to know what I'm doing wrong when I write and
some tips on how to improve my writing would be nice. E-mail me @
TangoRENT@aol.com
P.S. This is set about 2 years or so in the future, and Mimi has since
pasted on.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mark tightened his old coat around himself as another cold gust
of air blew past him. The buildings surrounding the small cemetary made
it hard to tell exactly where in the sky the sun had run off to, but
Mark was willing to bet he had a good thirty minutes or so before it was
totally dark out. His grip on the bouquet of assorted flowers he'd had
loosened, and the entire bundle hit the ground on a stranger's gravestone.
"Oh, sorry Mr. .. Mr. Johnson..? Jackson?" Mark squinted at the
gravestone, even with his glasses on, the print was too faded to make-
out. "Just..uh, sorry."
Mark gathered up the flowers, feeling a bit guilty about dropping
them earlier, he left one flower at the gravestone that was unreadable.
He trudged through the eerily silent place, until he found what he'd been
searching for. He smiled slightly to himself and set all but one of the
flowers down neatly in front of the fresh gravestone, his friendly smile
soon left along with his composure as audible whimpers escaped his throat,
as he still fought to control himself.
"Hi Mimi," Mark's voice broke as he said her name. " I hope that
this is a good enough spot for you. We all tried to find a better place
for you, but we decided that it would be best if we all stuck together."
The one flower Mark had kept in his hand was placed in front of
the gravestone next the Mimi's.
"Hey, Angel, still dancing to the beat of your own drum?" A
smile crept up into Mark's face, and bloomed in true happiness for
a moment. "You two are probably having the biggest
party in heaven. I can see it now, God in zebra-printed tights. Only
you could get him into those." The smile slowly faded.
The broodish filmmaker's head dropped. He tried the best he could,
but being in the presence of the gravestones of his two friends broke
down every barrier he'd tried to build up since that morning when he'd
decided that it was time to visit. He'd remembered trying to convince
Roger to come with him, but Roger's continuous excuse was "I'm not ready
yet." Mark had never even concidered Roger's words an excuse until the
subject had wandered into a chat between him and Maureen. She'd been in a
bad mood, so Mark wasn't totally sure whether that was really her view on
it, but that one small comment changed Mark's view on Roger ever so slightly.
Then again, it had been a year since Mimi's death, and two since
Angel's. Everyone had changed, whether for better or for worse. Collins
and Benny, oddly enough, had a small fling right before Mimi's death. After
that, Benny broke it off, deciding to "permenently leave New York."
Unfortunetly for him, 'permenently' came in the embodiment of a plane-
crash. He died exactly 2 months after Mimi, only Collins and Mark attended
the funeral. Benny's wife, Allison, claimed her excuse for not attending was
business.
Collins had been heartbroken, even though he didn't love Benny like
Angel, he felt guilty. Guilty for seemingly betraying Angel while being with
Benny, and then forcing Benny onto the plane that ended his life. Collins fell
into a deep depression for a few months. Then, he simply and suddenly
changed. He became a full-time anarchist, and as of the present day had been in
police custidy a total of 4 times.
Roger had closed up even more than before he met Mimi. Her death
crushed him, though he'd never admit it. He'd attempted suicide once, but
Mark had walked in on him. Roger tried to take and overdose of Mark's
depression pills he'd found in the cupboard, only to collapse in a heap on
the floor, crying. Mark tried his best to get Roger to go to the Life Support
meetings, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. Mark tried everything he could
to help Roger, but in the end all he could do was hide his pills.
Mark had spent his last few days at a hopital, where the docters
would stare at him and scratch their heads. He'd been blacking out constantly
for the past few months, sometimes just staying silent a few minutes and forget-
ing what'd happened. Sometimes he'd faint, even if he was walking on the sidewalk,
it would happen suddenly and it frightened the docters. They'd told him that
he should never be alone, if for example, he'd faint while walking down a flight
of stairs. That news did chill Mark, but he didn't dare ask any of his other
friends to babysit him; they all had their own problems.
Maureen and Joanne had a rough time, but not half as rough as the rest
of them had had. They'd toured the U.S., performing in small staged protests
and sometimes even short plays. Once they'd reached California, in a moment
of spontaneity, flew to Hawaii and got married. Their current residence was in a
comfortable shack on the beach.
Mark looked up at Mimi's gravestone a moment and shook his head slightly,
clearing his mind and the fear of blacking out crept into his mind again. He
took off his glasses and squeezed his eyes shut a moment, allowing the last of
his tears to fall. Mark swiped away the older, drying tears from his glasses and
put them back on.
"I have to go now, guys. I'll probably see you in a few weeks, maybe I
can get Roger to come this time," Mark's eyes wandered to Mimi's gravestone
again, "I promise I'll do my best."
"As for you," Mark turned to Angel's gravestone," We bailed Collins again
last friday; he's fine." Mark kissed his fingers and lightly brushed both their
gravestones, and stood up from his crouching position. The breeze bit at him
immediately and he tightened his old coats around himself again, and began his
long walk home.