Okay, this is my first ever Smallville story. Bear with me, it may be
pretty confusing at first, but it's just the way I reveal a lot of
information at once.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Smallville characters they belong to the WB and whoever else has a piece of them. However I did create a few characters and those are mine all mine I tell you!
"Reflections"
Clark Kent awoke with a start. He looked around his room frantically and started to calm down when he finally realized where he was. Home. He took a couple of deep breaths to try and figure out why he was so shaken.
"It must have been a nightmare," Clark said to himself.
Narrowing his brows he tried to remember his dream; but he couldn't. Checking his clock he read the time, 11:32 am. He was still a little disoriented and wasn't sure if he was late for school or if it was the weekend. Figuring that his mom would have woken him up had it been a school day, he settled down once more. He pushed back his blanket and swung his legs around the side of the bed. Standing, he stretched and yawned and made his way to the bathroom to go wash up.
***********
Martha and Jonathan Kent sat at the kitchen table, both sipping lazily at their mugs of coffee. Martha was reading the newspaper while Jonathan sat reading a Home Improvement magazine. Martha sat down her section of the paper and stared quizzically at her husband as he concentrated on a particular page of the magazine. She began, "I hope you aren't trying to build another adjoining tool shed.."
Jonathan looked up, "Huh?" He glanced back at his magazine as if for reference and then smiled. "No Martha I'm not."
"You had better not be. You wasted so much time on the last one we nearly missed harvest."
"Ha ha ha. not funny Martha. I was trying the build the top." he stopped when he saw the look that Martha was giving him. She was mocking him. "What I mean is, it takes time to," that look again. "Alright fine, you win. Are you happy?"
"Very. So what are you thinking about building this time."
"Nothing. Well nothing short of the best."
"Hi guys!" Clark walked into the kitchen, effectively cutting off Jon and Martha's conversation. He stood there giving his brightest smile. "How are the best parents in the world this beautiful Saturday morning?" Still smiling he looked from parent to parent.
Martha and Jonathan exchanged glances. Martha spoke first. "Okay Clark, what do you want and how much does it cost?"
"Mom," he answered. "I'm shocked that you would think me such a materialistic child." He placed a well-meaning hand on his chest as though wounded.
"Clark," his mom entreated.
"Nothing. Well nothing short of the best sneakers available to the civilized world! Mom, Dad come on, please?
Martha smiled at Clark and then glanced at Jonathan. She mouthed the words, 'He's just like you.' As Jonathan squinted back at her she turned back to Clark and asked, "And why are these sneakers the best available to the civilized world?"
Clark stood there with a blank face and searched his mind for something convincing.
Martha continued, "They wouldn't by any chance give you the ability to run faster, or jump higher, or play better than ever before, would they?"
Clark felt stupid, "Well, yeah."
"Clark you can already run faster and jump higher and play better than anyone. Why do you need these sneakers?"
"Cuz they look cool."
"Now there's the truth! Jonathan, your turn," Martha said as she reached over to tap her husband.
Clark stood there dumbfounded. 'What is this? A WWF tag team match?'
"Clark," Jonathan started. It was obvious that Jonathan wasn't prepared to interrogate his son about a pair of sneakers he just heard about.
"Don't worry about it," Clark said. "I was just messin' with ya. I really don't want anything," he said with raised eyebrows, smiling at his parents. Clark walked over to the refrigerator.
Martha looked at Jonathan and smirked, 'he is like you,' she mouthed.
This time Jonathan understood. He smiled and chuckled at his wife as he heard the refrigerator open.
Martha, still smiling at Jonathan, said out loud. "Put it down and get a cup, Clark."
"What? How did you know? You weren't even looking!"
Martha turned around to see Clark with the bottle of milk in his right hand and the cap in his left. "I'm your mom. I'm supposed to know these things."
"But Martha, it tastes better out of the bottle."
Martha swung her head around to glare at her husband. "Don't encourage him Jonathan." She decided that she was more interested in her paper and picked up her section of the newspaper, pointedly ignoring her husband.
Jonathan looked up at Clark and mouthed an, 'I tried.' And gave a sympathetic look.
"Jonathan!"
"What? I didn't technically say anything to him!"
Martha put down the paper and looked at Jonathan quizzically. "What are you talking about? I was going to mention the article I was just reading."
Clark laughed.
###########
Brianus Levantine walked purposefully down the hall trying to gather his courage. He had walked these halls thousands of times before, but never had he ever been this nervous. Deciding to drown himself in the normality of the situation he noted the familiar hallways and passages.
The nickel colored metal walls reflected his image, then rippling with each step. The floors were also reflective, a deep black that made one think that he was walking on nothing at all. The acoustics of the passageway echoed each step he took. There was no way to hide or fade in with the background. Any person who strode down these halls stood out prominently. There was far too much light to disguise oneself.
Brianus once again felt his heart race as he gripped his thick black portfolio close to his side under his arm. He tried to slow his pace, but found he couldn't. He had a mission; and his body knew it, regardless of how he truly felt. Brianus made a left at the next corner and made a futile wish for these walls to be more accommodating, perhaps even warm. But he knew that crochets with pictures of snuggly homes and welcome mats would never grace these lower levels. They were a secret to the world above. And if any of the American taxpayers found out what their money was used for in these efforts it would be a disaster.
Brianus finally reached the shiny door. He looked at it and all he could see was himself. He hated the way the underground levels reflected his every move. He knew he was being watched at all times by hidden cameras; but must he be privy to his iniquitous actions as well? It made it harder to commit an appalling deed when he saw himself carrying out the motions. He lowered his head and once again wondered how he got into this line of work. Shaking his head, burying the thought immediately, he pressed his hand upon the scanning pad to the left of the door. The digital reader above it asked for a confirmation code, which he then entered. Reaching into his breast pocket with his freehand he removed a plastic card. When the prompt was given on the digital screen he scanned his card. The door then opened and he placed his card back inside his coat pocket. Walking inside, he expected the worst.
Well that's it for now. Please let me know what you think. Any comments or criticism is always welcome.
~Sapphire
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Smallville characters they belong to the WB and whoever else has a piece of them. However I did create a few characters and those are mine all mine I tell you!
"Reflections"
Clark Kent awoke with a start. He looked around his room frantically and started to calm down when he finally realized where he was. Home. He took a couple of deep breaths to try and figure out why he was so shaken.
"It must have been a nightmare," Clark said to himself.
Narrowing his brows he tried to remember his dream; but he couldn't. Checking his clock he read the time, 11:32 am. He was still a little disoriented and wasn't sure if he was late for school or if it was the weekend. Figuring that his mom would have woken him up had it been a school day, he settled down once more. He pushed back his blanket and swung his legs around the side of the bed. Standing, he stretched and yawned and made his way to the bathroom to go wash up.
***********
Martha and Jonathan Kent sat at the kitchen table, both sipping lazily at their mugs of coffee. Martha was reading the newspaper while Jonathan sat reading a Home Improvement magazine. Martha sat down her section of the paper and stared quizzically at her husband as he concentrated on a particular page of the magazine. She began, "I hope you aren't trying to build another adjoining tool shed.."
Jonathan looked up, "Huh?" He glanced back at his magazine as if for reference and then smiled. "No Martha I'm not."
"You had better not be. You wasted so much time on the last one we nearly missed harvest."
"Ha ha ha. not funny Martha. I was trying the build the top." he stopped when he saw the look that Martha was giving him. She was mocking him. "What I mean is, it takes time to," that look again. "Alright fine, you win. Are you happy?"
"Very. So what are you thinking about building this time."
"Nothing. Well nothing short of the best."
"Hi guys!" Clark walked into the kitchen, effectively cutting off Jon and Martha's conversation. He stood there giving his brightest smile. "How are the best parents in the world this beautiful Saturday morning?" Still smiling he looked from parent to parent.
Martha and Jonathan exchanged glances. Martha spoke first. "Okay Clark, what do you want and how much does it cost?"
"Mom," he answered. "I'm shocked that you would think me such a materialistic child." He placed a well-meaning hand on his chest as though wounded.
"Clark," his mom entreated.
"Nothing. Well nothing short of the best sneakers available to the civilized world! Mom, Dad come on, please?
Martha smiled at Clark and then glanced at Jonathan. She mouthed the words, 'He's just like you.' As Jonathan squinted back at her she turned back to Clark and asked, "And why are these sneakers the best available to the civilized world?"
Clark stood there with a blank face and searched his mind for something convincing.
Martha continued, "They wouldn't by any chance give you the ability to run faster, or jump higher, or play better than ever before, would they?"
Clark felt stupid, "Well, yeah."
"Clark you can already run faster and jump higher and play better than anyone. Why do you need these sneakers?"
"Cuz they look cool."
"Now there's the truth! Jonathan, your turn," Martha said as she reached over to tap her husband.
Clark stood there dumbfounded. 'What is this? A WWF tag team match?'
"Clark," Jonathan started. It was obvious that Jonathan wasn't prepared to interrogate his son about a pair of sneakers he just heard about.
"Don't worry about it," Clark said. "I was just messin' with ya. I really don't want anything," he said with raised eyebrows, smiling at his parents. Clark walked over to the refrigerator.
Martha looked at Jonathan and smirked, 'he is like you,' she mouthed.
This time Jonathan understood. He smiled and chuckled at his wife as he heard the refrigerator open.
Martha, still smiling at Jonathan, said out loud. "Put it down and get a cup, Clark."
"What? How did you know? You weren't even looking!"
Martha turned around to see Clark with the bottle of milk in his right hand and the cap in his left. "I'm your mom. I'm supposed to know these things."
"But Martha, it tastes better out of the bottle."
Martha swung her head around to glare at her husband. "Don't encourage him Jonathan." She decided that she was more interested in her paper and picked up her section of the newspaper, pointedly ignoring her husband.
Jonathan looked up at Clark and mouthed an, 'I tried.' And gave a sympathetic look.
"Jonathan!"
"What? I didn't technically say anything to him!"
Martha put down the paper and looked at Jonathan quizzically. "What are you talking about? I was going to mention the article I was just reading."
Clark laughed.
###########
Brianus Levantine walked purposefully down the hall trying to gather his courage. He had walked these halls thousands of times before, but never had he ever been this nervous. Deciding to drown himself in the normality of the situation he noted the familiar hallways and passages.
The nickel colored metal walls reflected his image, then rippling with each step. The floors were also reflective, a deep black that made one think that he was walking on nothing at all. The acoustics of the passageway echoed each step he took. There was no way to hide or fade in with the background. Any person who strode down these halls stood out prominently. There was far too much light to disguise oneself.
Brianus once again felt his heart race as he gripped his thick black portfolio close to his side under his arm. He tried to slow his pace, but found he couldn't. He had a mission; and his body knew it, regardless of how he truly felt. Brianus made a left at the next corner and made a futile wish for these walls to be more accommodating, perhaps even warm. But he knew that crochets with pictures of snuggly homes and welcome mats would never grace these lower levels. They were a secret to the world above. And if any of the American taxpayers found out what their money was used for in these efforts it would be a disaster.
Brianus finally reached the shiny door. He looked at it and all he could see was himself. He hated the way the underground levels reflected his every move. He knew he was being watched at all times by hidden cameras; but must he be privy to his iniquitous actions as well? It made it harder to commit an appalling deed when he saw himself carrying out the motions. He lowered his head and once again wondered how he got into this line of work. Shaking his head, burying the thought immediately, he pressed his hand upon the scanning pad to the left of the door. The digital reader above it asked for a confirmation code, which he then entered. Reaching into his breast pocket with his freehand he removed a plastic card. When the prompt was given on the digital screen he scanned his card. The door then opened and he placed his card back inside his coat pocket. Walking inside, he expected the worst.
Well that's it for now. Please let me know what you think. Any comments or criticism is always welcome.
~Sapphire
