"The Long Road"
A writing begins like a painting. The first sentence strokes the paper and
lights color to that world. This one begins in a white world that has been
frequented much lately, on a silverish street, with a large caravan of
people. Only a few in that simple piece of transportation look back to the
road behind them, rather than to the road in front of them with hope.
A woman with long black hair and what appears to be light blue skin who
appears idly bored in the back seat. A blonde hair child with pale pink skin
and a Russian accent sitting in the second full long seat. a set of young
beach goers with dark tans, and darker brown hair talking without making a
sound. A beautiful red head with quiet green eyes who watched over everyone
in the car. Then last was the girl in the front passenger seat with a pair
of sunglasses holding back her hair and a nervous smile.
The road behind them was bumpy at the moment. In places it was curved,
jagged and laced with rocks. In other places it was gone completely leaving
one to wonder how the van made it across at all. These few watched, or
perhaps glanced back with an understanding that in one way or another
pertained to the things they had seen or experience as written for them, or
their writer, who at present was driving the van very silently, on their way
to place some people had rumored might be a place they could call home.
"Are we there yet?" A voice broke the silence. It was the young child in
between the Russian girl, and the woman in white robes with her eyes closed,
somewhere beyond prayers and meditations.
"We'll be there soon enough, Rosie," Kitty Pryde, a fictive of Marvel,
called from the front row of long seat, next to the window and the purple
capped woman. "Don't worry too much. Trust the writer."
"Trust the writer! Hah! We could've gone first class," the socialist uptight
controlling woman with white blond hair, in the seat two behind the Kitty,
and one behind the child said snottily, with much distaste to the close
cabinet. "Or atleast taken a Limo."
"And I could've teleported there and spent this time now in Hell to keep
from having to be within ten feet of you." Illyana, the young blonde Russian
Marvel fic, replied with a sneer, as she placed and arm around the small
shoulders of Rosa-Leetah who sat next to her, in the middle of their seat.
"Don't mind her…she's just a b- an ice witch."
"Not that you're being a brat or anything." the woman with the blue skin
muttered to herself, filing her nails in her own annoyance to the whole
situation.
"Mind you tongue, child." The woman in the white rove stated at Casse,
coming out of her trance of thought. If it was up to her they could all stop
talking and start reflecting inward like novices. But in a few of their
cases that would be like asking for rain in the Sahara Desert.
"Calm down everyone," came a voice two seat over from Casse and one behind
Emma, from a fiery haired beauty in the very back corner, another fic from
the Marvel writers that the writer had becoming overly attached to. "We're
stopping."
The writer tapped her thumb on the steering wheel as she parked the van and
people began to pour out the side of it. As the last few excited the side,
and she still sat against the seat glancing back and out the side door, the
fic in the passenger seat next to her leaned over. She was a new one to this
game. Not so perfectly confident, with rational fears, and problems, but
enough determination to live with herself for whatever she did.
"Hey, you okay?" Baby Jane asked, pulling her sunglasses down from her hair,
staring at her driver with solemn, concerned eyes.
Her writer simply nodded and gave an affirmative noise without looking up at
her pulling the keys out opening her door and going about getting out.
Rosa-Leetah stood in front of the crowd facing the place reading off a piece
of paper, while most took in the place quietly. "Mu-tantMan-sion," she
pronounced slowly. "Yeah, this is the place. It's kinda quiet, don't you
think?"
"Hey, everyone!" called a young girl smiling with corn silk blonde hair from
near the door, her hand on the knob. She was another Marvel fic by the name
of Holly-Ann, who'd vanished into character Limbo long before some other
even existed. "It's open already!"
"Can you see anyone?" a few of them called out. Peeking in she shrugged.
"Can we go explore?" Holly-Anne turned back to her writer with an
enthusiastic glance, who was standing at the bottom of the steps to the
place just watching her people scurry about. She gave a half shrug and
nodded her approval unmoving as everyone of them seemed to file through the
door with enthusiasm, annoyance, relief or joy.
The writer moved slowly, the van behind her vanishing as she took stares,
though the road didn't. The steps she left slowly turned silver and became
part of the road. She stopped at the door where it hung open, the voices of
her fictives and the ones she took care of that didn't belong to her echoing
through the hall before her.
Raising a hand slowly she ran it along the side of the second half of the
double doors still closed. Voices echoed softly in the writers ear. Some
were fictives other were friends. Some were already inside and some stood on
the brink with her even though they weren't there with her physically at the
moment.
A hand covered hers and she looked up to meet the face of the gentler two of
the Summer's twins in a pair of soft brown eyes and green glimmers. The
tanned hand squeezed hers gently, and the eyes shimmered with compassion.
"You don't have to, y'know," she said, the California accent rounding her
words beautifully with her only half cultured speech.
"They're waiting for me." Her writer said lightly, with a soft air of many
emotions, as she motioned inside the door with a nod to people unseen.
"They'd wait." Her brother a tanned tall mysterious man said firmly in a
deep timbre, as took her position standing over Kylie with his arms lightly
around her shoulders. The girl reached up hugging her arms over his and the
writer simply nodded.
"I know." The writer replied again in the same tone, even though the
smallest bit of a sad and at the same time happy smile wisped her lips.
"Is someone congregating court here or are we going to let the heat in to
stay, too???" Spoke up a darker deeper male voice, of a man in a dark
business suite who strode by them, lightly moving Kyle and Kylie aside
trying to get in. Behind him walked the woman in the purple cape and hood,
with another man in a grey suite with a red rose in his lapel.
"No," his writer said softly, in a faint whisper. "No one here atleast."
"Where is everyone?" The Emma fic came back down the hallway, looking over
jaded and annoyed again. "I'd like to get back to captured the flag before I
have to redo planning dinner, schedules, bedroom set ups and introducing our
newest guest to the academy."
"Calm down, Frosty," Casse said with a laugh, somehow still leaning against
the open door. "It's not like you're going to melt if you don't get to your
game in the next seven seconds."
"Where is everyone, anyway?" Rosa-Leetah piped up in curiosity this time as
a bright flash of light made everyone in the small collective wince, her
eyes open wide with wonder and joy. "Where are the people that'll bring this
all to life again?"
"Playing God," Casse offered tartly.
"They are not!" Kitty jumped up, having just returned with Illyana. "They're
beautifying your new home! Have some respect, Casse."
"Whatever…" the blue skinned girl called as she lit herself a cigarette and
wandered off, vanishing as she did.
"There's a notice that says things start officially tomorrow," Jean said
lightly holding a clipboard up, with names of people already arrived, and
things already happening as they stood around.
"Well, we're here." Baby Jane offered with a smile a she held out a hand to
her writer.
"That we are."
The author said and smiled faintly again. She took the offered hand and then
Rosa-Leetah's, too, as they crossed the thresholds and started walking
slowly through the hallways. Sounds filled echoes in the long hallway that
marched only from Wednesday to Thursday, and some moved from one week to
another, and one list to another, and still stayed the same, in which
fictives laughed and told jokes, and others groused about meaningless
trivialness.
A writing begins like a painting. The first sentence strokes the paper and
lights color to that world. This one begins in a white world that has been
frequented much lately, on a silverish street, with a large caravan of
people. Only a few in that simple piece of transportation look back to the
road behind them, rather than to the road in front of them with hope.
A woman with long black hair and what appears to be light blue skin who
appears idly bored in the back seat. A blonde hair child with pale pink skin
and a Russian accent sitting in the second full long seat. a set of young
beach goers with dark tans, and darker brown hair talking without making a
sound. A beautiful red head with quiet green eyes who watched over everyone
in the car. Then last was the girl in the front passenger seat with a pair
of sunglasses holding back her hair and a nervous smile.
The road behind them was bumpy at the moment. In places it was curved,
jagged and laced with rocks. In other places it was gone completely leaving
one to wonder how the van made it across at all. These few watched, or
perhaps glanced back with an understanding that in one way or another
pertained to the things they had seen or experience as written for them, or
their writer, who at present was driving the van very silently, on their way
to place some people had rumored might be a place they could call home.
"Are we there yet?" A voice broke the silence. It was the young child in
between the Russian girl, and the woman in white robes with her eyes closed,
somewhere beyond prayers and meditations.
"We'll be there soon enough, Rosie," Kitty Pryde, a fictive of Marvel,
called from the front row of long seat, next to the window and the purple
capped woman. "Don't worry too much. Trust the writer."
"Trust the writer! Hah! We could've gone first class," the socialist uptight
controlling woman with white blond hair, in the seat two behind the Kitty,
and one behind the child said snottily, with much distaste to the close
cabinet. "Or atleast taken a Limo."
"And I could've teleported there and spent this time now in Hell to keep
from having to be within ten feet of you." Illyana, the young blonde Russian
Marvel fic, replied with a sneer, as she placed and arm around the small
shoulders of Rosa-Leetah who sat next to her, in the middle of their seat.
"Don't mind her…she's just a b- an ice witch."
"Not that you're being a brat or anything." the woman with the blue skin
muttered to herself, filing her nails in her own annoyance to the whole
situation.
"Mind you tongue, child." The woman in the white rove stated at Casse,
coming out of her trance of thought. If it was up to her they could all stop
talking and start reflecting inward like novices. But in a few of their
cases that would be like asking for rain in the Sahara Desert.
"Calm down everyone," came a voice two seat over from Casse and one behind
Emma, from a fiery haired beauty in the very back corner, another fic from
the Marvel writers that the writer had becoming overly attached to. "We're
stopping."
The writer tapped her thumb on the steering wheel as she parked the van and
people began to pour out the side of it. As the last few excited the side,
and she still sat against the seat glancing back and out the side door, the
fic in the passenger seat next to her leaned over. She was a new one to this
game. Not so perfectly confident, with rational fears, and problems, but
enough determination to live with herself for whatever she did.
"Hey, you okay?" Baby Jane asked, pulling her sunglasses down from her hair,
staring at her driver with solemn, concerned eyes.
Her writer simply nodded and gave an affirmative noise without looking up at
her pulling the keys out opening her door and going about getting out.
Rosa-Leetah stood in front of the crowd facing the place reading off a piece
of paper, while most took in the place quietly. "Mu-tantMan-sion," she
pronounced slowly. "Yeah, this is the place. It's kinda quiet, don't you
think?"
"Hey, everyone!" called a young girl smiling with corn silk blonde hair from
near the door, her hand on the knob. She was another Marvel fic by the name
of Holly-Ann, who'd vanished into character Limbo long before some other
even existed. "It's open already!"
"Can you see anyone?" a few of them called out. Peeking in she shrugged.
"Can we go explore?" Holly-Anne turned back to her writer with an
enthusiastic glance, who was standing at the bottom of the steps to the
place just watching her people scurry about. She gave a half shrug and
nodded her approval unmoving as everyone of them seemed to file through the
door with enthusiasm, annoyance, relief or joy.
The writer moved slowly, the van behind her vanishing as she took stares,
though the road didn't. The steps she left slowly turned silver and became
part of the road. She stopped at the door where it hung open, the voices of
her fictives and the ones she took care of that didn't belong to her echoing
through the hall before her.
Raising a hand slowly she ran it along the side of the second half of the
double doors still closed. Voices echoed softly in the writers ear. Some
were fictives other were friends. Some were already inside and some stood on
the brink with her even though they weren't there with her physically at the
moment.
A hand covered hers and she looked up to meet the face of the gentler two of
the Summer's twins in a pair of soft brown eyes and green glimmers. The
tanned hand squeezed hers gently, and the eyes shimmered with compassion.
"You don't have to, y'know," she said, the California accent rounding her
words beautifully with her only half cultured speech.
"They're waiting for me." Her writer said lightly, with a soft air of many
emotions, as she motioned inside the door with a nod to people unseen.
"They'd wait." Her brother a tanned tall mysterious man said firmly in a
deep timbre, as took her position standing over Kylie with his arms lightly
around her shoulders. The girl reached up hugging her arms over his and the
writer simply nodded.
"I know." The writer replied again in the same tone, even though the
smallest bit of a sad and at the same time happy smile wisped her lips.
"Is someone congregating court here or are we going to let the heat in to
stay, too???" Spoke up a darker deeper male voice, of a man in a dark
business suite who strode by them, lightly moving Kyle and Kylie aside
trying to get in. Behind him walked the woman in the purple cape and hood,
with another man in a grey suite with a red rose in his lapel.
"No," his writer said softly, in a faint whisper. "No one here atleast."
"Where is everyone?" The Emma fic came back down the hallway, looking over
jaded and annoyed again. "I'd like to get back to captured the flag before I
have to redo planning dinner, schedules, bedroom set ups and introducing our
newest guest to the academy."
"Calm down, Frosty," Casse said with a laugh, somehow still leaning against
the open door. "It's not like you're going to melt if you don't get to your
game in the next seven seconds."
"Where is everyone, anyway?" Rosa-Leetah piped up in curiosity this time as
a bright flash of light made everyone in the small collective wince, her
eyes open wide with wonder and joy. "Where are the people that'll bring this
all to life again?"
"Playing God," Casse offered tartly.
"They are not!" Kitty jumped up, having just returned with Illyana. "They're
beautifying your new home! Have some respect, Casse."
"Whatever…" the blue skinned girl called as she lit herself a cigarette and
wandered off, vanishing as she did.
"There's a notice that says things start officially tomorrow," Jean said
lightly holding a clipboard up, with names of people already arrived, and
things already happening as they stood around.
"Well, we're here." Baby Jane offered with a smile a she held out a hand to
her writer.
"That we are."
The author said and smiled faintly again. She took the offered hand and then
Rosa-Leetah's, too, as they crossed the thresholds and started walking
slowly through the hallways. Sounds filled echoes in the long hallway that
marched only from Wednesday to Thursday, and some moved from one week to
another, and one list to another, and still stayed the same, in which
fictives laughed and told jokes, and others groused about meaningless
trivialness.