Author: Abigayle
E-mail: abbiechan10@hotmail.com
Titile: 2:30 Interlude
Rating: G/PG (?)
Author's Notes: Hey, all! This is the fantastic new writer, Abigayle!
Nice to meet someone with so much confidence! Anyway, this is a little
short I penned just last night, and thought it would be a wonderful
introduction to my writing style for you guys. You'll defiantly be
hearing more from me! I'm currently working on several more fics, so be
prepared!
If this fic scares you away from my future ramblings, I'm going to
be up front and say that this is very much unlike anything else I've
written. I was kind of depressed when I wrote it (my motto: I'm not a
maniac, I'm manic!), and it's very short (four handwritten pages). But,
on the other hand, if you like it, keep in mind that my other stuff is
ten times better! It may be a while, but this is not the last you'll
hear from me!
Also, please take note that Sammy doesn't exist in this fic. I know
he's kinda vital, but I was half asleep when I was writing this, and
after reading it, I thought it would best just to leave him out of this
one.
Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon or any of it's characters. I do,
however, own this plot, no matter how terrible it may be.
v^v^v^v
Serena plopped down in the swing set and sighed, looking up to the
stars. She didn't even know she had been crying until she realized her
vision was blurred.
"I hate my life," she sighed once again. "I hate my life with a
passion." She sniffled a couple of times, shifted her gaze from the
stars to the oval of scuffed-out dirt under the swing, and continued
basking in her misery.
To say she was startled out of her skin when she heard a loud "Hey,
Meatball Head, long time, no see!" from behind her would be the
understatement of the millennium.
"Darien," she sighed [AN: Anyone else starting to see a pattern?].
"Now is not the best time."
"Best time for what?" he instigated.
"For you to pick a fight with me. I can't be held responsible for
whatever I might do or say to you."
"And just why is that?"
"I'm not in the best of moods right now."
"Why?"
"Well, for one thing, your constant prying is starting to drive me
insane."
"I'm not prying!"
"The last three things out of your mouth were, 'Best time for
what?', 'Andy why is that?', and 'Why?'. If that's not prying, I don't
know what its."
"Well go on."
"With what?"
"Your present state of melancholy! Why you're in a bad mood!"
"There you go again..."
"With what?"
"Prying! You wanna know why I'm in a bad mood?" She took a deep
breath, then continued: "I've spent the last two weeks quarientened in
my grandparent's house without a TV, CD player, computer, or phone; they
smoke, so it's going to take me -another- two weeks to get the smell of
cigarette smoke out of my cloths and hair; I spent a good four hours on
a bus crammed between a guy who smelled like beer and whose snoring
could only rival my dad's, and a poor teenage mother who couldn't quite
seem to pacify her screaming baby; and I haven't slept a wink in the
past two days."
"Why are you out at such an ungodly hour then?"
"The same could be asked of you."
"Oh, I jog every morning."
"At two-thirty?"
"Sometimes! If I couldn't sleep..."
"Well, that's kind of obvious..." Serena said, hopping out of her
swing. "I'd better go before my mom and dad realize I'm not at home."
"Wait up--I'll walk you!" Darien called, jogging up behind her.
"The boogie man might get you!"
"Yeah, well, I've made it this far. I'll be okay alone."
"No, you never told me why you're out so late--" He grabbed her
arm, causing her to turn around. "God, Serena, you look like hell.
What's wrong?"
"Lack of sleep?"
"Yeah, and the moon's made of cheese."
"It's not?" she asked, feigning surprise.
"You can tell me anything, you know."
"And risk you laughing at me for being silly, immature, and selfish?
I'll take my chances and keep my mouth shut? What's ten more years of
therapy?"
"Serena, I'm sorry for every time I've laughed at you in the past
and for every mean comment I've ever said I never meant it--any of it."
"I still can't tell you--you'll think I'm stupid for getting worked
up over something so trivial--then you'll say it's due to lack of sleep,
which I've already told you, so I'll just be on my way."
"Nothing that makes you cry could be so trivial, Serena." He
grabbed her arm again and stopped walking. "Tell me what happened.
You'll feel better when you tell someone, and I know for a fact that
Andrew and the girls--Rita included--are all off on vacation somewhere,
so you're stuck with me."
"It's just...family problems, you know?"
"Actually, I don't."
"Come on, your parents had to had one fight somewhere down the
line!"
"Not that I can remember..."
"Are your parents the Cleavers?"
"I don't remember."
"Darien, what are you saying?"
"I'm saying that my parents died when I was very little; I don't
remember them."
"I'm -so- sorry. I shouldn't have assumed--"
"It's okay. But we're not talking about me. That's in the past.
We're talking about -you- and why you're so worked up -now-."
"But you just told me something so--"
"Confidential. And I hope you'll keep it that way."
"Of course. But why?"
"I don't want pity."
"I can defiantly understand that."
"Do -you- pity me?"
"No. Actually, I envy you, to an extent."
"You can't mean that you want your parents dead, can you?"
"No, of course not. But they've put me through hell for the past
month, and I'm beginning to wonder what it would be like if I had no
parents. If I just ran away and never looked back."
"You couldn't do that!"
"No, I love them too much."
"So what's going on, then?"
"A month ago, my mom had an affair with her high school sweetheart
and my dad found out the next day. They kept putting em in the middle
and I felt so trapped. They were getting a divorce, so they shipped me
off to my grandparents' as soon as summer started so they could settle
things."
"So that's why you're upset? You had every right in the world to
cry!"
"That's not why I'm crying. When I got back, somehow they had
managed to work things out and got back together."
"But that's good news! Why cry over that?"
"I'm not finished yet. When I got home, I took a shower and when I
got out, I noticed that I had misplaced my book, -Abby, My Love-. They
were so wrapped up in each other and the stupid TV that they didn't even
hear me ask them to help me hunt it. It just pissed me off that they
could put me through so much and ignore me like I was some vagrant
asking them to do something insanely impossible!"
"I can't say I know how you feel, but I know where you're coming
from."
"You don't think I'm selfish for wanting attention?"
"No! Of course not! Look, I'd love to say that things are going to
get better, but I'm not psychic. I know I'm not an expert on the
subject of family, but I'm always here as a shoulder to cry on or
someone to vent to. Call me up anytime, okay?" He opened his arms for
a hug.
She nuzzled in his warm embrace, grinned up at him, and said,
"Darien, I don't know if you went on prozac while I was gone or -what-,
but thak you."
The End?
v^v^v^v
AN: This is so not typical of me (It's short!), and I don't know if
it's any good (it took me 45 minutes to write it), but here it is for
you to think what you please. While you're composing your flame, please
keep in mind that I totally based Serena's story on my own and penned
this after the alleged "book incident" happened, as well as the fact
that it's late and I'm half asleep. I realize that it has no plot what so ever,
but neither does anything else my evil Literature teacher has made me read
all year. Nonetheless, feedback is always welcome, whether you wanna
criticize me or you just wanna chat.. Until next time!
<3 Abbie-chan
E-mail: abbiechan10@hotmail.com
Titile: 2:30 Interlude
Rating: G/PG (?)
Author's Notes: Hey, all! This is the fantastic new writer, Abigayle!
Nice to meet someone with so much confidence! Anyway, this is a little
short I penned just last night, and thought it would be a wonderful
introduction to my writing style for you guys. You'll defiantly be
hearing more from me! I'm currently working on several more fics, so be
prepared!
If this fic scares you away from my future ramblings, I'm going to
be up front and say that this is very much unlike anything else I've
written. I was kind of depressed when I wrote it (my motto: I'm not a
maniac, I'm manic!), and it's very short (four handwritten pages). But,
on the other hand, if you like it, keep in mind that my other stuff is
ten times better! It may be a while, but this is not the last you'll
hear from me!
Also, please take note that Sammy doesn't exist in this fic. I know
he's kinda vital, but I was half asleep when I was writing this, and
after reading it, I thought it would best just to leave him out of this
one.
Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon or any of it's characters. I do,
however, own this plot, no matter how terrible it may be.
v^v^v^v
Serena plopped down in the swing set and sighed, looking up to the
stars. She didn't even know she had been crying until she realized her
vision was blurred.
"I hate my life," she sighed once again. "I hate my life with a
passion." She sniffled a couple of times, shifted her gaze from the
stars to the oval of scuffed-out dirt under the swing, and continued
basking in her misery.
To say she was startled out of her skin when she heard a loud "Hey,
Meatball Head, long time, no see!" from behind her would be the
understatement of the millennium.
"Darien," she sighed [AN: Anyone else starting to see a pattern?].
"Now is not the best time."
"Best time for what?" he instigated.
"For you to pick a fight with me. I can't be held responsible for
whatever I might do or say to you."
"And just why is that?"
"I'm not in the best of moods right now."
"Why?"
"Well, for one thing, your constant prying is starting to drive me
insane."
"I'm not prying!"
"The last three things out of your mouth were, 'Best time for
what?', 'Andy why is that?', and 'Why?'. If that's not prying, I don't
know what its."
"Well go on."
"With what?"
"Your present state of melancholy! Why you're in a bad mood!"
"There you go again..."
"With what?"
"Prying! You wanna know why I'm in a bad mood?" She took a deep
breath, then continued: "I've spent the last two weeks quarientened in
my grandparent's house without a TV, CD player, computer, or phone; they
smoke, so it's going to take me -another- two weeks to get the smell of
cigarette smoke out of my cloths and hair; I spent a good four hours on
a bus crammed between a guy who smelled like beer and whose snoring
could only rival my dad's, and a poor teenage mother who couldn't quite
seem to pacify her screaming baby; and I haven't slept a wink in the
past two days."
"Why are you out at such an ungodly hour then?"
"The same could be asked of you."
"Oh, I jog every morning."
"At two-thirty?"
"Sometimes! If I couldn't sleep..."
"Well, that's kind of obvious..." Serena said, hopping out of her
swing. "I'd better go before my mom and dad realize I'm not at home."
"Wait up--I'll walk you!" Darien called, jogging up behind her.
"The boogie man might get you!"
"Yeah, well, I've made it this far. I'll be okay alone."
"No, you never told me why you're out so late--" He grabbed her
arm, causing her to turn around. "God, Serena, you look like hell.
What's wrong?"
"Lack of sleep?"
"Yeah, and the moon's made of cheese."
"It's not?" she asked, feigning surprise.
"You can tell me anything, you know."
"And risk you laughing at me for being silly, immature, and selfish?
I'll take my chances and keep my mouth shut? What's ten more years of
therapy?"
"Serena, I'm sorry for every time I've laughed at you in the past
and for every mean comment I've ever said I never meant it--any of it."
"I still can't tell you--you'll think I'm stupid for getting worked
up over something so trivial--then you'll say it's due to lack of sleep,
which I've already told you, so I'll just be on my way."
"Nothing that makes you cry could be so trivial, Serena." He
grabbed her arm again and stopped walking. "Tell me what happened.
You'll feel better when you tell someone, and I know for a fact that
Andrew and the girls--Rita included--are all off on vacation somewhere,
so you're stuck with me."
"It's just...family problems, you know?"
"Actually, I don't."
"Come on, your parents had to had one fight somewhere down the
line!"
"Not that I can remember..."
"Are your parents the Cleavers?"
"I don't remember."
"Darien, what are you saying?"
"I'm saying that my parents died when I was very little; I don't
remember them."
"I'm -so- sorry. I shouldn't have assumed--"
"It's okay. But we're not talking about me. That's in the past.
We're talking about -you- and why you're so worked up -now-."
"But you just told me something so--"
"Confidential. And I hope you'll keep it that way."
"Of course. But why?"
"I don't want pity."
"I can defiantly understand that."
"Do -you- pity me?"
"No. Actually, I envy you, to an extent."
"You can't mean that you want your parents dead, can you?"
"No, of course not. But they've put me through hell for the past
month, and I'm beginning to wonder what it would be like if I had no
parents. If I just ran away and never looked back."
"You couldn't do that!"
"No, I love them too much."
"So what's going on, then?"
"A month ago, my mom had an affair with her high school sweetheart
and my dad found out the next day. They kept putting em in the middle
and I felt so trapped. They were getting a divorce, so they shipped me
off to my grandparents' as soon as summer started so they could settle
things."
"So that's why you're upset? You had every right in the world to
cry!"
"That's not why I'm crying. When I got back, somehow they had
managed to work things out and got back together."
"But that's good news! Why cry over that?"
"I'm not finished yet. When I got home, I took a shower and when I
got out, I noticed that I had misplaced my book, -Abby, My Love-. They
were so wrapped up in each other and the stupid TV that they didn't even
hear me ask them to help me hunt it. It just pissed me off that they
could put me through so much and ignore me like I was some vagrant
asking them to do something insanely impossible!"
"I can't say I know how you feel, but I know where you're coming
from."
"You don't think I'm selfish for wanting attention?"
"No! Of course not! Look, I'd love to say that things are going to
get better, but I'm not psychic. I know I'm not an expert on the
subject of family, but I'm always here as a shoulder to cry on or
someone to vent to. Call me up anytime, okay?" He opened his arms for
a hug.
She nuzzled in his warm embrace, grinned up at him, and said,
"Darien, I don't know if you went on prozac while I was gone or -what-,
but thak you."
The End?
v^v^v^v
AN: This is so not typical of me (It's short!), and I don't know if
it's any good (it took me 45 minutes to write it), but here it is for
you to think what you please. While you're composing your flame, please
keep in mind that I totally based Serena's story on my own and penned
this after the alleged "book incident" happened, as well as the fact
that it's late and I'm half asleep. I realize that it has no plot what so ever,
but neither does anything else my evil Literature teacher has made me read
all year. Nonetheless, feedback is always welcome, whether you wanna
criticize me or you just wanna chat.. Until next time!
<3 Abbie-chan