Notes:
The Saturday Sessions AKA: Writing Ping Pong... CorbyinOz2 and I love to give each other TAG related writing challenges to spur those creative juices. Each challenge has a different theme and a different set of parameters. Corby recently posted "Red" as part one of our Saturday Sessions. Actually, at the time she posted it, it the latest challenge and only for Corby as I was busy writing a chapter of another story (a challenge itself, but I digress).
Our very first challenge some months ago was "Letters". We had four days to write our individual first parts, send them to each other on the Saturday afternoon at a prearranged time, and then had two hours to read and write a response which needed to be emailed to each other by the time our Skype video call started at a second prearranged time. The final responses were read simultaneously on Skype.
Our challenges are enormously fun, especially seeing the different approaches we both take to a challenge. "Letters" is a great example of this.
We hope you enjoy reading our Saturday Sessions as much as we enjoy writing them.
Letters Part 1: Dear John (by Soleil)
Dear John,
Ha! I'm pretty sure that's what Grandma used to call those emails she'd twitter on about. You know, the ones armed forces personnel stationed in remote war zones got from their partners when said partner wanted to break up.
So yeah I'm in the air force and your name is John.
But this isn't a break up email, or even a break up letter for that matter.
Actually I don't have access to a computer to write an email, or even pen and paper.
Paper. What a rare commodity. The only paper I've ever seen has either been in museums, Grandma's old books or Virgil's sketchpads or the antique sheet music that Mom left to him.
So no, not an email or even a letter.
What do you call an email … letter ...whatever… composed entirely in your head - my head - never to see the light of day, never to be delivered?
You'll never know what I'm writing here.
What I'm thinking here?
I'm thinking it to you, so I think that's like writing. Just without actually putting it down somewhere. Or delivering it.
Actually I'm kinda glad you won't ever see this. Things have been kinda … messy. Unreal. But real. Oh so hellishly real.
I'd do anything to protect you and the kids, make sure you never know of the hell that the end of my life has become.
Ugh. Yeah. Bit melodramatic.
God, how did it ever come to this?
Oh yeah. Getting shot down over Bereznik will kinda lead a guy to end up here.
Or dead.
Not sure which is the best option actually.
You remember my wingman and her flight officer? I think Alexa and Jennie got the better end of the deal. They died when their fighter got hit. Exploded. Never even knew what happened.
Tomaz - next best. Don't think I told you. We'd been on the ground evading the Bereznikians (Berezniki's? Never knew what to call them) for about 36 hours. Well Tomaz was. Evading them as best he could while carrying me with my two broken legs. Then, yeah. Ambush. He got shot in the head. All over red rover.
Except for me.
So I think Alexa, Jennie and Tomaz all got the better end of the deal.
Yeah, yeah. I know. Not what you expect from me, the eternally in control, cool under pressure, future USAF leadership material Scott Tracy.
Great White Hope I think Gordy used to call me.
It's just, I don't know. I've been here for days. Weeks. Months? I've lost track. I don't have anything to mark the wall to keep track.
Not that that would make a difference.
I can't see a thing.
It's constantly dark in here. Damp and cold and dark. The only light is when they come to throw what passes as food or water at me. Not that it's regular enough to gauge how many days have passed.
Actually there is another time when there's light.
I don't like light any more.
I'll never live that down. Big brother scared of the light. Kinda like when we were kids after Mom's death. Gordy and Alan both scared of the dark. Thinking the monsters were going to come and get them or us and Dad, just like they thought that snow monsters got Mom and Grandpa. You and me spent so many nights reassuring them that monsters aren't real and not to be scared of the dark.
Never through that it was the light I needed to be scared of.
Or that monsters were real. And human.
And that they came with the light, not the dark.
You know, the pain of two broken legs is the least agonizing thing I've experienced in the past few days.
Weeks?
I miss you guys.
I wish you guys were here so I'm not alone.
Footsteps.
Light under the door.
Scott Tracy scared of the light. How messed up is that?
Never want any of you to understand this fear.
John?
Don't remember coming back to the room.
Cave.
Hell hole.
Whatever.
Don't remember where I stopped the letter before I was interrupted.
Rudely interrupted. But you just can't tell the hired help that in these parts.
Touchy buggers.
They kick you in the ribs if you get mouthy with them.
What's that John? If I do something stupid?
When have I ever done something stupid?
Don't answer that.
My breathing sounds funny. Raspy.
So, John. Where was I? It's all a bit blurry.
Rambling, I think you'd say.
Anyway.
There was a point to this.
What was my point?
I feel so distant from you and the kids. There are miles between us.
Continents, oceans, worlds, eternal space.
Weeks? Months?
I wonder if you are back from your first trip to the moon base yet? Al will be so excited. You won't be able to shut him up. It will be non-stop questions for hours. Days. Weeks.
God. All those times growing up when I'd wish I was an only child for an afternoon, where I wanted you all to stay at the library, the pool, piano practice for just an hour longer. Just to have some peace and quiet so I could be me and not someone's big brother.
I'd give anything to have that time back again.
Never told you this before. Scott Tracy as you know him doesn't exist without John Tracy. Without Virgil. The kids. My world has surrounded the lot of you for so long, sometimes I don't know who I am without you anymore.
I wouldn't want it any other way.
Wonder what you are all doing right now?
Gordy and Al are probably planning on breaking out of school and storming Bereznik all by themselves to rescue me.
Virgil? Virge will be trying to convince Dad to let him fly Stateside so he can speak personally to Congress about getting me released. If Congress fails him, he'll have his back up plan: fly the jet to Bereznik to start his own search and rescue mission.
You're probably trying to reason with the younger two not to stage an escape from school, and trying convince Virgil and Dad to actually get some sleep.
Don't forget to get some sleep yourself Johnny. Need you to be healthy for when I get back in order to keep the kids in line.
If I get back.
Do you even realise I'm still alive?
Fuck. Footsteps again. That can't be more than an hour after the last time.
I think?
What do you think?
Maybe you think I'm dead. Like Alexa and Jennie and Tomaz.
Footsteps. The glow under the door.
Never want any of you to understand this fear.
Crawling skin, dry mouth. Heartbeat louder than the footsteps now. Chest…can't breath.
Sudden glaring light, shouting, rough hands.
Fuck. This is what fear is. I can taste its bitterness.
Gotta protect you kids from this.
Pain. Ribs, chest, scalding hot pin points all over. Backhand across the face. Five, Six, Seven…. Crawling, away. Boot on broken bones. Fire exploding up my legs.
I can feel the darkness. It's just there, just out of my reach.
Johnny, does it make me a coward to want the darkness?
I don't know any longer…
Johnny.
That you?
What are you doing here?
Thirsty. So thirsty.
I can feel the sun.
I can't feel anything but pain.
Johnny, I can see our little brothers too.
Or is it my captors? Did I tell you one of them is Al's age? Looks a little like Virgil: dark hair, dark eyes. Has Gordon's laugh.
No, not Gordy's laugh. He wouldn't laugh at someone else pain.
You can't be here. You're all so pale. Too pale.
Blood on your shirt, over their hearts.
No, no you're not here. Everything's messed up.
Everything is so blurry.
No, not real. Feeling hot. But also so cold.
This is not real.
It's all so … I so feel empty.
Johnny, I gotta ask you, tell you.
Lost. Feeling so lost. I can't….not sure how much longer…. can't keep this up.
You need to be the big brother now. I can't do it anymore.
I tried. God I tried to hold it together to get back to you. To see the kids again. Dad.
Numb. So numb.
Virgil will need you to be there. Everyone will think he's okay because he'll try to be there for everyone else, to listen to everyone. He's the emotional bedrock of the family. But he'll take this hard. You gotta pull him out of it, get him to paint the beauty in the world again.
Gordy. He'll act out. It will be all happy oceans and sunlight and dolphins and seals. You'll never see the dark depths of his soul if you don't get him to talk. You and Virge will need to double-team him.
Al? Show him the stars. Make him see the potential of life in the universe again.
Don't cut yourself off from them. Or Dad or Grandma.
Wanted to protect you. Needed to protect all of you from the obscene. From this.
Hope they never find me. Don't want you to see what they did. Like Mom all over again. But worse. So much worse.
Knives, rope, blades, fire, buckets and buckets of icy water. But not to put to the fire. Never to put out the fire.
Broken; so, so broken.
Maybe it's better you make up your own ending. Let me now how you feel about that.
Only you cant, can you?
Because you'll never get this letter.
So, so hot. But so cold. Icy.
Johnny, the light. It's coming again.
You gotta run. Take the kids and run. Hide.
Footsteps, closer, closer.
Can't show you anymore. You gotta do it yourself.
Love you little brother.