1 The Antimorphs Chronicals
Part Ten
LaRouche
Ripper joined us instantly, without hesitation. He and Aleks got along well, as both of them had the same homicidal tendencies. In addition, both of them enjoyed the use of knives. Ripper had insisted on bringing along his two long combat knives, that were like jagged macheties. He thought that they were blessed, and he wouldn't leave them behind. I agreed, playing along with my charade, I would soon teach him how to make his body into a huge knife.
We headed out in the Anubis, flying over America's heartland.
CLEAVELAND, OHIO
I was lonely.
Again.
Not much of a change today, I thought, nothing to do, no one to talk to.
My name is Marc LaRouche. Weird name for an American kid, eh? Well, I have a good reason. I'm not from America, originally. No, I'm from France. I was born in a quiet village along the river Somme. Soon after, my dad got a job in America, and we moved here.
Within five years, he had make a killing in real estate, and we had moved into this huge house in Cleaveland. It's a nice place, I suppose, but its hard to enjoy it all when you have no friends and your parents are never around.
My parents love me, I suppose. They try to show me all the time, like with big, expensive presents, or by sending me to a private school. But if I were to vanish tomorrow, I doubt that they would notice that I was gone.
That's how bust their lives are.
My dad now helps to manage a huge energy company, and it's main offices are out in California. So he gets up everyday at four, dresses, drives to the nearby airport, and flies out to San Francisco. I'm lucky if he makes it home by ten, at the earliest. He just does it so that he wont have to give up this huge house, but it's just a sham. It's not like he's ever around, anyways. I just don't think he wants to see me.
My mother? Well, my mother is a different story. My mom fusses over me all the time, when she's around. She works for Americorps, as their Ohio manager out of Dayton. So she's driving around a lot, never here, always there.
Ah, to hell with them both. I was doing just fine, raising myself. The servants and maids never really paid me much attention. It's always like "time to feed the marc," or "get out of your room, we just cleaned it and you'll just muck it up again. No! don't sit in the den, we just cleaned that too! Go to a friend's house!"
Yeah, so they treated me like a piece of furnature, or, at times, a dog. Keep him outside, feed him three times a day, and he'll be happy.
Only I wasn't happy. This life sucks.
Now, at school, I do ok. Not great, but not terrible either. I wouldn't be Oxford educated like my father, but who wants to end up like him? After all, a man who doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man, can he?
School wouldn't be so bad if the other kids didn't make fun of me. All day, the poke fun at my loneliness, my name, or my gloomy, introvert demenor.
So I didn't like talking to people on the phone for hours at a time. Who cares? Reading a good book is better.
Anyways, my first name, Marc, is what I dislike. It's a wimpy name, you know? I don't feel that it fits me. Only my family calls me Marc. Everyone else just calls me LaRouche. It's better that way. Trust me.
Only one other person, outside the family, called me Marc. Her name was Cassie Verenda.
Originally from New Jersey, She was here on an exchange program, and she boarded with us. That was about two years ago, and she was here for over three months. We really bonded, if you know what I mean. She was great, and we did all kinds of stuff together, like hiking, swimming, watching movies. We even got real…close.
In all honesty, I think that I loved her.
I was only thirteen at the time. So was she. We didn't have the commitment to carry on a real relationship, over long distance.
But not a day, nay, an hour goes by, that I don't think about Cassie. I ponder every day we spent together. I always wonder what she is doing right now, If she has a boyfriend, what she's taking in school, if her life is going good.
I have almost twenty scrapbooks of Cassie pictures. Sometimes, I spend hours just looking at them. Over and over, memorizing every curve on her face, every arc, every little feature, no matter how minute.
She was so beautiful. If only she was here, then maybe my life would have purpose, meaning. A little bit of significance.
But no, I was nothing jow. Just haunted by the past and lonely every waking hour.
So on this particular day, I was, again, alone. No one to talk to, and no one to care.
Great.
I wandered around the house, aimlessly alternating between watching TV and playing my new X-box.
I had everything that a kid would ever want, but I still hated my life. I hated the thought of waking up in the morning. It was one long, endless, boring cycle.
Eventually, I decided to get some fresh air. I strapped on my shoes, and walked out the front door.
It was cloudy, very grey and overcast in the sky. There was no wind, no sound of cars passing by.
But that part made sense. See, my families property was so huge, so massive, that you could get lost in our own personal forest very easily. It was over eight hundred acres in size. Pretty huge.
I stalked aimlessly about the grounds, occasionally breaking into a run and then slowing down when I ran out of breath. I'm pretty fast. I used to be on the school track team, but I had to drop out when I couldn't get to the meets on my own.
Yet another brick in the wall, I thought to myself.
I was just about ready to pack it in, when I a little kid, maybe seven or eight years old, running through the field towards me.
"Hey!" I shouted, "How did you get in here? There isn't a hole in the fence, is there? Are you lost?"
The kid didn't answer my barrage of questions, he only kept running towards me.
In a moment, he stood right in front of me, looking at me with a gaze that seemed beyond his years.
"Who are you? What's your name?" I said, as if I was talking to a newborn baby.
Sue me, I'm not great at conversation.
"I am the one who is going to totally rock your world, LaRouche."
I was shocked at how adult this kid sounded. Then again, kids are growing up faster and faster these days.
"Oh yeah? Why do you say that?" I responded, playing along with this kid's game.
"I've seen how your parents ignore you, how your father would rather be across the whole country rather than with his own son. I have seen how your mother goes to work every day, far from home. Oh, I mean she work's on her co-workers. You don't really think that the drive takes her that long do you? You must be pretty naïve to think that she wouldn't start to screw around on your dad behind his back," He said.
Just who did this kid think he was? How did he know all this stuff anyways?
"Listen kid," I began harshly, "but you can't just come in here and say that stuff. This is private property, you know."
He kept going, unfazed, " I've even seen how your teachers patronize you and lie to you at every opportunity, out of fear of your father's influence. They doctor your grades, you know, just to make him happy. Bu then again, it's not like you father has ever even seen a report card, anyway, so what does it matter?"
I had had about enough, and I was about to escort him off of my property, when he began to back up.
And change.
He turned from a young boy, pre-teen, to a teenager a bit older than I.
I was in shock. The next thing I knew, I blacked out.
The last word's I heard were, "Aleks? Sanders? Bring the Anubis down. We just found number five…"
Part Ten
LaRouche
Ripper joined us instantly, without hesitation. He and Aleks got along well, as both of them had the same homicidal tendencies. In addition, both of them enjoyed the use of knives. Ripper had insisted on bringing along his two long combat knives, that were like jagged macheties. He thought that they were blessed, and he wouldn't leave them behind. I agreed, playing along with my charade, I would soon teach him how to make his body into a huge knife.
We headed out in the Anubis, flying over America's heartland.
CLEAVELAND, OHIO
I was lonely.
Again.
Not much of a change today, I thought, nothing to do, no one to talk to.
My name is Marc LaRouche. Weird name for an American kid, eh? Well, I have a good reason. I'm not from America, originally. No, I'm from France. I was born in a quiet village along the river Somme. Soon after, my dad got a job in America, and we moved here.
Within five years, he had make a killing in real estate, and we had moved into this huge house in Cleaveland. It's a nice place, I suppose, but its hard to enjoy it all when you have no friends and your parents are never around.
My parents love me, I suppose. They try to show me all the time, like with big, expensive presents, or by sending me to a private school. But if I were to vanish tomorrow, I doubt that they would notice that I was gone.
That's how bust their lives are.
My dad now helps to manage a huge energy company, and it's main offices are out in California. So he gets up everyday at four, dresses, drives to the nearby airport, and flies out to San Francisco. I'm lucky if he makes it home by ten, at the earliest. He just does it so that he wont have to give up this huge house, but it's just a sham. It's not like he's ever around, anyways. I just don't think he wants to see me.
My mother? Well, my mother is a different story. My mom fusses over me all the time, when she's around. She works for Americorps, as their Ohio manager out of Dayton. So she's driving around a lot, never here, always there.
Ah, to hell with them both. I was doing just fine, raising myself. The servants and maids never really paid me much attention. It's always like "time to feed the marc," or "get out of your room, we just cleaned it and you'll just muck it up again. No! don't sit in the den, we just cleaned that too! Go to a friend's house!"
Yeah, so they treated me like a piece of furnature, or, at times, a dog. Keep him outside, feed him three times a day, and he'll be happy.
Only I wasn't happy. This life sucks.
Now, at school, I do ok. Not great, but not terrible either. I wouldn't be Oxford educated like my father, but who wants to end up like him? After all, a man who doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man, can he?
School wouldn't be so bad if the other kids didn't make fun of me. All day, the poke fun at my loneliness, my name, or my gloomy, introvert demenor.
So I didn't like talking to people on the phone for hours at a time. Who cares? Reading a good book is better.
Anyways, my first name, Marc, is what I dislike. It's a wimpy name, you know? I don't feel that it fits me. Only my family calls me Marc. Everyone else just calls me LaRouche. It's better that way. Trust me.
Only one other person, outside the family, called me Marc. Her name was Cassie Verenda.
Originally from New Jersey, She was here on an exchange program, and she boarded with us. That was about two years ago, and she was here for over three months. We really bonded, if you know what I mean. She was great, and we did all kinds of stuff together, like hiking, swimming, watching movies. We even got real…close.
In all honesty, I think that I loved her.
I was only thirteen at the time. So was she. We didn't have the commitment to carry on a real relationship, over long distance.
But not a day, nay, an hour goes by, that I don't think about Cassie. I ponder every day we spent together. I always wonder what she is doing right now, If she has a boyfriend, what she's taking in school, if her life is going good.
I have almost twenty scrapbooks of Cassie pictures. Sometimes, I spend hours just looking at them. Over and over, memorizing every curve on her face, every arc, every little feature, no matter how minute.
She was so beautiful. If only she was here, then maybe my life would have purpose, meaning. A little bit of significance.
But no, I was nothing jow. Just haunted by the past and lonely every waking hour.
So on this particular day, I was, again, alone. No one to talk to, and no one to care.
Great.
I wandered around the house, aimlessly alternating between watching TV and playing my new X-box.
I had everything that a kid would ever want, but I still hated my life. I hated the thought of waking up in the morning. It was one long, endless, boring cycle.
Eventually, I decided to get some fresh air. I strapped on my shoes, and walked out the front door.
It was cloudy, very grey and overcast in the sky. There was no wind, no sound of cars passing by.
But that part made sense. See, my families property was so huge, so massive, that you could get lost in our own personal forest very easily. It was over eight hundred acres in size. Pretty huge.
I stalked aimlessly about the grounds, occasionally breaking into a run and then slowing down when I ran out of breath. I'm pretty fast. I used to be on the school track team, but I had to drop out when I couldn't get to the meets on my own.
Yet another brick in the wall, I thought to myself.
I was just about ready to pack it in, when I a little kid, maybe seven or eight years old, running through the field towards me.
"Hey!" I shouted, "How did you get in here? There isn't a hole in the fence, is there? Are you lost?"
The kid didn't answer my barrage of questions, he only kept running towards me.
In a moment, he stood right in front of me, looking at me with a gaze that seemed beyond his years.
"Who are you? What's your name?" I said, as if I was talking to a newborn baby.
Sue me, I'm not great at conversation.
"I am the one who is going to totally rock your world, LaRouche."
I was shocked at how adult this kid sounded. Then again, kids are growing up faster and faster these days.
"Oh yeah? Why do you say that?" I responded, playing along with this kid's game.
"I've seen how your parents ignore you, how your father would rather be across the whole country rather than with his own son. I have seen how your mother goes to work every day, far from home. Oh, I mean she work's on her co-workers. You don't really think that the drive takes her that long do you? You must be pretty naïve to think that she wouldn't start to screw around on your dad behind his back," He said.
Just who did this kid think he was? How did he know all this stuff anyways?
"Listen kid," I began harshly, "but you can't just come in here and say that stuff. This is private property, you know."
He kept going, unfazed, " I've even seen how your teachers patronize you and lie to you at every opportunity, out of fear of your father's influence. They doctor your grades, you know, just to make him happy. Bu then again, it's not like you father has ever even seen a report card, anyway, so what does it matter?"
I had had about enough, and I was about to escort him off of my property, when he began to back up.
And change.
He turned from a young boy, pre-teen, to a teenager a bit older than I.
I was in shock. The next thing I knew, I blacked out.
The last word's I heard were, "Aleks? Sanders? Bring the Anubis down. We just found number five…"