Life After High School. Is It Scary? You Bet.
By Risty Maskell and Silver15
Disclaimer: What do we want? LOTR! When do we want it? NOW!
Summary: Hell, I thought you would have figured it out by now.
***************************************************************************
As we rode home, I thought a lot about the Memorial Service dedicated to my big brother. I loved him so much. I knew, being his little sister, I had to speak at the podium, which I didn't mind doing. I had already got a rough idea on what I was going to say.
When we got home, Frodo came rushing out to give me a hug.
"How'd it go?" he asked.
"All right. Lucas is going to hold them, see how long they can last. We also thought we would give a memorial service to Mark."
I told Frodo the whole idea. He seemed to think it was an excellent idea. He had never known my brother, of course, but he was my husband, so he was coming.
We walked in and found Emma and Boromir cuddled up on the couch, watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer reruns. Emma looked up and saw me, she got up and gave me a hug.
"Hey." She said, smiling. "Glad to see you're still in one piece."
"Yeah, I know Lucas. He's a good guy." I explained the Memorial Service idea to her. She thought it was a good idea, but then I told her she couldn't come, because it was two days ride. She saddened.
"Emma, I didn't do it intentionally. You know that, but before you throw that pillow at me, listen. I can get Elrond to tell Gandalf to use that transporter magic that he knows, he can send you straight to Midgewood. You could meet us there. There is no violence, so you'll be perfectly safe."
Emma thought about it for a few minutes. Then she smiled. Then she held out her hand.
"Deal." We shook.
The days counting down to the Memorial Service was fast. Benny and I made a list of all the classmate who had known and liked Mark. That was quite a few.
"Charlie and Vinnie?"
I checked the class photo. "Yep."
"Ruthie and Vanessa?"
"Their here."
"Is that the photo that every ones friends get into one big photo?"
"Yeah. Mark had this one up on his wall."
"Cool. What about Mazza?"
"He's here, too."
We made a long list and looked in the phone book. We found a last name that suited everyone so we called them.
"Hello, is Mazza Drax there, please?…thanks…Hey Mazza!…It's Jamita, you know, Mark Shadow's little sister?…yeah…we're going to have a memorial service for Mark. He died a few years ago."
After I got off the phone with Mazza, who said of course he'd come, we phoned all his friends, even his old girlfriend.
"Fiona? Fiona Bracegirdle?…"
I explained the situation and I think she must have burst into tears when she hung up the phone because she sounded all choked up. That was to be expected.
I practiced my speech a lot. I am not really one for a prepared speech, I usually just say things on the spot. But this was important.
The day finally came, and we had all ridden to Midgewood two days ago. There were a lot of people there. We had about twenty of his friends saying something. When we arrived we were given lots of hugs, Fiona could be seen sobbing her eyes out. I felt bad, she had left school before the holidays so she had never heard of the 'family tragedy' that had happened over the holidays that year.
Julia, Jake and I were both saying something. Jake hadn't really known Mark, because he was only nine when he was killed. I think out of the three of us, Mark liked me the best, not that I'm boasting or anything. But he always paid more attention to me, teaching me self defense and stuff, than the others. We had been inseparable. I was going to speak first.
I walked up the podium stairs and to the microphone.
"Welcome all of you. I'm glad to see what a huge turnout we had for the memorial service of my brother, Mark Geoffrey Shadow. Thank you for all being here, to remember my brother and friend. It really means a lot to me and my younger brother and three sisters. I know he would have loved to be here, but he got delayed. But maybe he is here. In our hearts. " I took a deep breath and continued. "When I was ten, Mark came home from school for the holidays. That night, my father, or should I say former-father, came home drunk. He was so drunk in fact, that he put my baby sister in a plastic bag and held it closed. I ran at my father, and jumped, biting him on the neck. I got thrown across the room. Mark then managed to get the bag away from Galfo and get a gasping Samantha out. While Mark was reassuring Samantha it was all right, Dad had grabbed a butcher cleaver and when Mark turned around to deal with him, Dad struck him in the stomach." Tears were forming in my eyes as I remembered the fateful night. "Mark was brave. He beat the crap out of my dad before he died. And ambulance came to give him a blood transfusion, but they were too late. Mark died in hospital during the night. My father, in the morning, vowed never to get drunk again. That was short lived. The next week, he gave my adopted brother, Jesse, brain damage and killed him. Three weeks after that, Samantha had an asthma attack in hospital from the traumatic experience and died too." I began to sob, Emma came up to support me. I waved her away. I had to do this. It had been haunting my heart for eight years. Now it was time to let it go free. "I would like to recite a poem, that I think fits Mark perfectly."
I began to recite the poem.
"This is to kids who are different.
Kids who don't always get A's
Kids who have ears
Twice the size of their peers
and noses which go on for days.
This is to the kids who are different
Kids they call crazy or dumb
Kids who don't fit
with the guts and the grit
Who dance to a different drum.
Here's to the kids who are different
Kids with a mischievous streak
For when they have grown
As history has shown
It's their difference that makes them unique."
By Risty Maskell and Silver15
Disclaimer: What do we want? LOTR! When do we want it? NOW!
Summary: Hell, I thought you would have figured it out by now.
***************************************************************************
As we rode home, I thought a lot about the Memorial Service dedicated to my big brother. I loved him so much. I knew, being his little sister, I had to speak at the podium, which I didn't mind doing. I had already got a rough idea on what I was going to say.
When we got home, Frodo came rushing out to give me a hug.
"How'd it go?" he asked.
"All right. Lucas is going to hold them, see how long they can last. We also thought we would give a memorial service to Mark."
I told Frodo the whole idea. He seemed to think it was an excellent idea. He had never known my brother, of course, but he was my husband, so he was coming.
We walked in and found Emma and Boromir cuddled up on the couch, watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer reruns. Emma looked up and saw me, she got up and gave me a hug.
"Hey." She said, smiling. "Glad to see you're still in one piece."
"Yeah, I know Lucas. He's a good guy." I explained the Memorial Service idea to her. She thought it was a good idea, but then I told her she couldn't come, because it was two days ride. She saddened.
"Emma, I didn't do it intentionally. You know that, but before you throw that pillow at me, listen. I can get Elrond to tell Gandalf to use that transporter magic that he knows, he can send you straight to Midgewood. You could meet us there. There is no violence, so you'll be perfectly safe."
Emma thought about it for a few minutes. Then she smiled. Then she held out her hand.
"Deal." We shook.
The days counting down to the Memorial Service was fast. Benny and I made a list of all the classmate who had known and liked Mark. That was quite a few.
"Charlie and Vinnie?"
I checked the class photo. "Yep."
"Ruthie and Vanessa?"
"Their here."
"Is that the photo that every ones friends get into one big photo?"
"Yeah. Mark had this one up on his wall."
"Cool. What about Mazza?"
"He's here, too."
We made a long list and looked in the phone book. We found a last name that suited everyone so we called them.
"Hello, is Mazza Drax there, please?…thanks…Hey Mazza!…It's Jamita, you know, Mark Shadow's little sister?…yeah…we're going to have a memorial service for Mark. He died a few years ago."
After I got off the phone with Mazza, who said of course he'd come, we phoned all his friends, even his old girlfriend.
"Fiona? Fiona Bracegirdle?…"
I explained the situation and I think she must have burst into tears when she hung up the phone because she sounded all choked up. That was to be expected.
I practiced my speech a lot. I am not really one for a prepared speech, I usually just say things on the spot. But this was important.
The day finally came, and we had all ridden to Midgewood two days ago. There were a lot of people there. We had about twenty of his friends saying something. When we arrived we were given lots of hugs, Fiona could be seen sobbing her eyes out. I felt bad, she had left school before the holidays so she had never heard of the 'family tragedy' that had happened over the holidays that year.
Julia, Jake and I were both saying something. Jake hadn't really known Mark, because he was only nine when he was killed. I think out of the three of us, Mark liked me the best, not that I'm boasting or anything. But he always paid more attention to me, teaching me self defense and stuff, than the others. We had been inseparable. I was going to speak first.
I walked up the podium stairs and to the microphone.
"Welcome all of you. I'm glad to see what a huge turnout we had for the memorial service of my brother, Mark Geoffrey Shadow. Thank you for all being here, to remember my brother and friend. It really means a lot to me and my younger brother and three sisters. I know he would have loved to be here, but he got delayed. But maybe he is here. In our hearts. " I took a deep breath and continued. "When I was ten, Mark came home from school for the holidays. That night, my father, or should I say former-father, came home drunk. He was so drunk in fact, that he put my baby sister in a plastic bag and held it closed. I ran at my father, and jumped, biting him on the neck. I got thrown across the room. Mark then managed to get the bag away from Galfo and get a gasping Samantha out. While Mark was reassuring Samantha it was all right, Dad had grabbed a butcher cleaver and when Mark turned around to deal with him, Dad struck him in the stomach." Tears were forming in my eyes as I remembered the fateful night. "Mark was brave. He beat the crap out of my dad before he died. And ambulance came to give him a blood transfusion, but they were too late. Mark died in hospital during the night. My father, in the morning, vowed never to get drunk again. That was short lived. The next week, he gave my adopted brother, Jesse, brain damage and killed him. Three weeks after that, Samantha had an asthma attack in hospital from the traumatic experience and died too." I began to sob, Emma came up to support me. I waved her away. I had to do this. It had been haunting my heart for eight years. Now it was time to let it go free. "I would like to recite a poem, that I think fits Mark perfectly."
I began to recite the poem.
"This is to kids who are different.
Kids who don't always get A's
Kids who have ears
Twice the size of their peers
and noses which go on for days.
This is to the kids who are different
Kids they call crazy or dumb
Kids who don't fit
with the guts and the grit
Who dance to a different drum.
Here's to the kids who are different
Kids with a mischievous streak
For when they have grown
As history has shown
It's their difference that makes them unique."
