I know, I know. Another story from me...I can barely keep up with the ones I've got and here I am starting another one. Well...I can't help it! All these different Lucys and Simons keep talking to me, and the only way to shut them up is to write the stories they bring to me. (And after a few chapters they shut up and I'm left to scramble to get new chapters posted so you guys don't lose interest in me!)
So here is yet another. I'm not even sure what to title this one. Hopefully I'll come up with something by the end of the chapter I'm about to write. I'm going to expand on the one shot fic I wrote last month, titled After The Rain. I may end up re-using that title. I feel that story is complete in and of itself, but the concept or theme of it gave me an idea for a bigger fic...
The standard disclaimer applies, because I have not yet joined the 7H team, and really who would want to claim ownership anyway? (I'll just borrow the characters for my own little stories, for my personal enjoyment as well as the enjoyment of my readers) so I'll just say, they're not mine (thank goodness) and please don't try to sue me for using them. As someone else said in his/her intros...Fan Fic is by definition out right stealing anyway, and you don't know who I am to sue me anyway.
I'll also slap a warning or two on this one: Some material may not be suitable for all readers. Lucy is suffering from a serious and potentially upsetting eating disorder. Please do not read if you think you might be upset because of the reading. My fics are never meant to upset anyone. I just have a personal obligation to tell the story I find within the characters as they present themselves to me.
Also note this is a 'Kevin and Lucy' fic. Kevin may not always be presented in the best light. You have two choices. Read, or don't read. If you read and you don't like how I portray Kevin, stop reading. Or hang in there and see this through. That choice is yours and no one but you can make it. Basically what I'm trying to say is this: Don't yell at me or flame me for writing a story you don't like. Just stop reading, because your fame reviews fall on deaf ears anyway. I'm going to write my story no matter what any nameless, faceless reader says to me in review.
And now that my notes take up nearly a page in Word, I think I should shut up and get on with the story. Congratulations to those of you still reading. I hope I prove worthy of the time and attention. I'll try to write a really great story for you. Now if only I knew what to title it...
After The Rain
Chapter 1/?
A Seventh Heaven Fan Fic by Lucky Star
Chapter One: Rain Rain Go Away
*~Lucy~*
I listened to the rhythm of the rain beating down on the roof, and Ruthie's breathing keeping time to it as if Ruthie and the rain were some mystical rock band establishing a beat. I caught myself tapping my finger too, but stopped it immediately because it seemed foolish to do that.
My English-Literature class had recently talked about how an author might use rain to symbolize crying if a character couldn't cry for himself. That concept seemed more appropriate than music, since I didn't feel much like singing, and I couldn't seem to cry even though I wanted to.
I envied Ruthie the ability to sleep, but I couldn't blame her. She's only twelve. She acts tough, and tries to act older than she is, but deep down she's just a twelve year old, a carefree sixth grader. She has no idea how hard life gets with each year, or how lucky she is to be just twelve. She shouldn't be in such a hurry to grow up.
Ruthie turned over and presented her back to me. I rolled away from her and faced the wall. Maybe Ruthie will be okay. Maybe she won't have the problems Mary and I have. She saw us go through all kinds of hell, so maybe she learned from our mistakes.
Like I learned from Mary? Ha. I didn't learn anything useful by watching Mary. Mary made her mistakes, and I made mine. I fell in love with guys who didn't love me, just like Mary, even after I saw Mary's heart get broken a hundred times. I couldn't live my life through her experiences, and Ruthie won't either.
I don't even know why I'm thinking about Ruthie like this. Yes, I do. I want to think about Ruthie so I don't have to think about me. Or Kevin. God knows I don't want to think about Kevin. He's probably asleep, in his boxers, sweating in the heat. I don't want to picture the little droplets of moisture on his bare chest.
Maybe the rain helped cool him off.
Maybe the rain could help me cry. I slipped out of bed, quiet as a mouse, trying not to disturb Ruthie. As if on cue, a snore from her reinforced her sleep. I grit my teeth and sat in the window seat, resting my forehead against the glass.
I've seen movies that use rain to show crying when a character can't cry. Of course that's just an actor, not someone who really needs to cry and can't. I'm not a character in a book to be enhanced with fancy words, or a character in a movie who needs special effects to make a scene work.
I'm flesh and blood and I'm in pain, so why can't I cry? I've tried, but the tears won't come. I can feel them back there, just behind my eyes, but it's like they're blocked somehow.
I feel the emotion, I just can't express it.
It's making me sick. I felt the bile rising, and I kicked a pile of Ruthie's school books in the mad-dash to the bathroom. I thought I wasn't going to make it in time.
*~Simon~*
I hate rain.
I hate to listen to the pitter-patter of rain on the windows.
I wish the rain would stop.
Rain makes me think of Morris.
I don't like to think of Morris. Thinking about Morris makes my heart ache. I miss him. I wish to God he had never moved away.
But that's really quite typical of my life. Nothing good ever lasts. Like Robert Frost's brilliant poem, "Nothing Gold Can Stay". That should be my anthem, that poem:
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
Eight short lines, one big statement about life and living. Or not living, as the case may be. I feel like I haven't lived since Morris left. I don't want to live since Morris left.
I reached down to pat Happy between the ears. "You're probably the only one who would really miss me if I left." I whispered to her, and she sighed I response. Would she wonder where I went? Would she mope for me? Would she wonder what she did to make me go away? Would she really even know I was gone?
I pushed the sheets off my legs and went to the window. The rain streaked the glass. I tapped my finger on it just because the impulse to do it was too great to resist.
I could almost see Morris running through the promenade in the rain that day, the last day I saw him. We danced around like fools, earning curious looks from the few people who were out, tucked into rain coats or hovering under umbrellas.
Instead of tapping the window with my finger, I hit my head against it. I felt like crying, but only girls and sissies cry. Morris wouldn't want me to cry. I guess the rain is crying for me, like in the movies.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Well, what do you think? Don't be shy, I really want to know. I like it a lot better than the original After The Rain thing I wrote a few weeks ago, and I hope it's not too much to have Lucy and Simon both think of the rain crying for them. That imagery speaks to me, based on the scene with Emilio Estevez and Craig Sheffer in the movie _That Was Then, This Is Now_ (1985) when Emilio's character is telling Craig's character about his parents. Emilio isn't crying, but he's sitting by the window in the dark, and the rain hits the window just right and it drips down so perfectly it truly looks like the rain is crying for Emilio's character. I love that image!
I think my muse is trying to find her way back to me (Her name is Josie) so I'm hoping to update all my stories soon...We'll see...Thanks for reading! Lucy Star (JjsLuckyStar@aol.com)
So here is yet another. I'm not even sure what to title this one. Hopefully I'll come up with something by the end of the chapter I'm about to write. I'm going to expand on the one shot fic I wrote last month, titled After The Rain. I may end up re-using that title. I feel that story is complete in and of itself, but the concept or theme of it gave me an idea for a bigger fic...
The standard disclaimer applies, because I have not yet joined the 7H team, and really who would want to claim ownership anyway? (I'll just borrow the characters for my own little stories, for my personal enjoyment as well as the enjoyment of my readers) so I'll just say, they're not mine (thank goodness) and please don't try to sue me for using them. As someone else said in his/her intros...Fan Fic is by definition out right stealing anyway, and you don't know who I am to sue me anyway.
I'll also slap a warning or two on this one: Some material may not be suitable for all readers. Lucy is suffering from a serious and potentially upsetting eating disorder. Please do not read if you think you might be upset because of the reading. My fics are never meant to upset anyone. I just have a personal obligation to tell the story I find within the characters as they present themselves to me.
Also note this is a 'Kevin and Lucy' fic. Kevin may not always be presented in the best light. You have two choices. Read, or don't read. If you read and you don't like how I portray Kevin, stop reading. Or hang in there and see this through. That choice is yours and no one but you can make it. Basically what I'm trying to say is this: Don't yell at me or flame me for writing a story you don't like. Just stop reading, because your fame reviews fall on deaf ears anyway. I'm going to write my story no matter what any nameless, faceless reader says to me in review.
And now that my notes take up nearly a page in Word, I think I should shut up and get on with the story. Congratulations to those of you still reading. I hope I prove worthy of the time and attention. I'll try to write a really great story for you. Now if only I knew what to title it...
After The Rain
Chapter 1/?
A Seventh Heaven Fan Fic by Lucky Star
Chapter One: Rain Rain Go Away
*~Lucy~*
I listened to the rhythm of the rain beating down on the roof, and Ruthie's breathing keeping time to it as if Ruthie and the rain were some mystical rock band establishing a beat. I caught myself tapping my finger too, but stopped it immediately because it seemed foolish to do that.
My English-Literature class had recently talked about how an author might use rain to symbolize crying if a character couldn't cry for himself. That concept seemed more appropriate than music, since I didn't feel much like singing, and I couldn't seem to cry even though I wanted to.
I envied Ruthie the ability to sleep, but I couldn't blame her. She's only twelve. She acts tough, and tries to act older than she is, but deep down she's just a twelve year old, a carefree sixth grader. She has no idea how hard life gets with each year, or how lucky she is to be just twelve. She shouldn't be in such a hurry to grow up.
Ruthie turned over and presented her back to me. I rolled away from her and faced the wall. Maybe Ruthie will be okay. Maybe she won't have the problems Mary and I have. She saw us go through all kinds of hell, so maybe she learned from our mistakes.
Like I learned from Mary? Ha. I didn't learn anything useful by watching Mary. Mary made her mistakes, and I made mine. I fell in love with guys who didn't love me, just like Mary, even after I saw Mary's heart get broken a hundred times. I couldn't live my life through her experiences, and Ruthie won't either.
I don't even know why I'm thinking about Ruthie like this. Yes, I do. I want to think about Ruthie so I don't have to think about me. Or Kevin. God knows I don't want to think about Kevin. He's probably asleep, in his boxers, sweating in the heat. I don't want to picture the little droplets of moisture on his bare chest.
Maybe the rain helped cool him off.
Maybe the rain could help me cry. I slipped out of bed, quiet as a mouse, trying not to disturb Ruthie. As if on cue, a snore from her reinforced her sleep. I grit my teeth and sat in the window seat, resting my forehead against the glass.
I've seen movies that use rain to show crying when a character can't cry. Of course that's just an actor, not someone who really needs to cry and can't. I'm not a character in a book to be enhanced with fancy words, or a character in a movie who needs special effects to make a scene work.
I'm flesh and blood and I'm in pain, so why can't I cry? I've tried, but the tears won't come. I can feel them back there, just behind my eyes, but it's like they're blocked somehow.
I feel the emotion, I just can't express it.
It's making me sick. I felt the bile rising, and I kicked a pile of Ruthie's school books in the mad-dash to the bathroom. I thought I wasn't going to make it in time.
*~Simon~*
I hate rain.
I hate to listen to the pitter-patter of rain on the windows.
I wish the rain would stop.
Rain makes me think of Morris.
I don't like to think of Morris. Thinking about Morris makes my heart ache. I miss him. I wish to God he had never moved away.
But that's really quite typical of my life. Nothing good ever lasts. Like Robert Frost's brilliant poem, "Nothing Gold Can Stay". That should be my anthem, that poem:
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
Eight short lines, one big statement about life and living. Or not living, as the case may be. I feel like I haven't lived since Morris left. I don't want to live since Morris left.
I reached down to pat Happy between the ears. "You're probably the only one who would really miss me if I left." I whispered to her, and she sighed I response. Would she wonder where I went? Would she mope for me? Would she wonder what she did to make me go away? Would she really even know I was gone?
I pushed the sheets off my legs and went to the window. The rain streaked the glass. I tapped my finger on it just because the impulse to do it was too great to resist.
I could almost see Morris running through the promenade in the rain that day, the last day I saw him. We danced around like fools, earning curious looks from the few people who were out, tucked into rain coats or hovering under umbrellas.
Instead of tapping the window with my finger, I hit my head against it. I felt like crying, but only girls and sissies cry. Morris wouldn't want me to cry. I guess the rain is crying for me, like in the movies.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Well, what do you think? Don't be shy, I really want to know. I like it a lot better than the original After The Rain thing I wrote a few weeks ago, and I hope it's not too much to have Lucy and Simon both think of the rain crying for them. That imagery speaks to me, based on the scene with Emilio Estevez and Craig Sheffer in the movie _That Was Then, This Is Now_ (1985) when Emilio's character is telling Craig's character about his parents. Emilio isn't crying, but he's sitting by the window in the dark, and the rain hits the window just right and it drips down so perfectly it truly looks like the rain is crying for Emilio's character. I love that image!
I think my muse is trying to find her way back to me (Her name is Josie) so I'm hoping to update all my stories soon...We'll see...Thanks for reading! Lucy Star (JjsLuckyStar@aol.com)