Standard disclaimer.
This is my first line fic, which means the first line is Maveness Delight's and the rest is mine. It's a Lana POV, and a horror fic. {Yes, Paper, I hear you giggling :p) Hopefully, it's more horror than angst. Anyway, let me know what you folks think of it.
The Bauble By Thanet
"Yeah and I'm going to change my name to Nancy Drew"
I giggle. I've been giggling ever since Chloe offered me a ride home. We had taken some silly aptitude test at school and had received the results today. Chloe, of course, was so confident she'd end up with journalist. Instead, she'd gotten law enforcement/detective, which has caused a continuous flood of snarky comments. Seriously, it's been nothing but one flippant remark after another. I'm beginning to think she offered to drive me home just so she'd have an audience.
"I mean, I don't even look good in dark blue - you can just forget the black uniform - the last thing I'm becoming is some overworked, underpaid stormtrooper . . ."
I laugh out loud. Looking up out of the car window, the sky is one of those piercing clear blues that you get only during a Kansas Indian summer. Somebody's burning off their fields and the smoky smell blends with those coming from pine trees lining the road. I'm so entranced I nearly miss Chloe's next question. Not like she's allowed me to squeeze in more than three words put together during the entire ride. "So, Lana, what's did you get?" I shrug, feigning disinterest. "Nothing worth mentioning"
But Chloe isn't letting me off, "Come on, girl, give already!" "Commercial Artist" I roll my eyes. "Like I'm even good at art." Chloe laughs. "Didn't you nearly flunk art last semester? Seriously, who ever grades these things ought to be checked for illegal drugs. This whole mess is just begging for an article in the Torch. " I try to hide a grin. "Did you hear what Clark ended up with?" "No, what?" "Journalist"
I nearly lose my seat as Chloe suddenly has trouble keeping the car on the road. It's a good thing they don't make mailboxes with feelings. Otherwise, quite a few would start bearing grudges against her for the resulting near misses. Not only am I fighting to keep a hold on the dashboard, but with the look on Chloe's face, I have the hardest time not roaring with laughter. I don't think I've ever seen that color of pink before. "Chloe!" "Sorry, it's the roads around here - another editorial that needs doing." Oh, right, it's the roads. I suppress a snicker. She tries to cover up the gaff, "See, this is exactly what I'm saying - Clark a journalist - really, let's think about this." Fortunately, Nell's house comes up before she can really start rolling. She manages to stop at the front sidewalk. For which I'm grateful, seeing how last night's rainstorm has left large muddy puddles in the yard. As a parting shot, I mention that Pete got the politician he was looking for. Chloe rolls her eyes. "Of course, Pete ends up in politics, where else would he end up?" Sarcasm has always been her strong suit. Giggling again, I manage to get out of the car without spilling my books and papers all over the ground. "See you at the Talon later?" "Sure, right after I read the riot act to Kent for not telling me what he got." We wave and as she drives off toward Clark's, I turn toward the house.
Autumn is always bittersweet for me. The colors and the smells are exciting, yet I can't help remembering that all of this is just in preparation for the winter to come. Before I start toward the house, I take a deep breath, savoring the fragile scents coming from the farms next door, reluctantly letting go at the end. I shiver as a breeze picks up and blows through the yard. Clutching my books closer, I walk forward, skipping over the wet leaves clumped on the sidewalk. As I reach the porch, I glance towards the Kents' farm. Chloe probably has Clark buttonholed up in the loft by now, listening to his hastily thought out explanations. I'll hear about it later tonight at the Talon, from both sides. Smiling at the thought, I walk into the house.
The smile vanishes as I walk in. The house seems colder this afternoon than when I left this morning. A coolness I can't ascribe to the weather outside. Nell is here in the front hallway waiting for me. Her expression worries me. It's the bitter expression I haven't seen since before she and Dean began dating. Since before Whitney left, actually. Oh no, Whitney. I can feel my own face going pale. Nell does nothing to end the anxiety by shrugging toward the dining room table, and saying, "You've got a package today in the mail." I know she still doesn't understand why I called it off with Whitney. Despite my explanations to the contrary, she still suspects Clark talked me into it. Old history repeating itself, she calls it.
I glance over toward the table. A small rectangular package wrapped in brown mailing paper is sitting there. The chill in the house works its way into my bones. I already know what's in it, and I really dread opening it up. I nod, thank Nell, and drop my schoolbooks into a nearby chair. She sniffs and vanishes into the other side of the house. I pick up the package. The return address is from a military base, somewhere unpronounceable in Afghanistan. As I'm heading up to my room, I can hear her talking on the kitchen phone to Dean. The chill follows me up the stairs.
So I'm sitting here on my bed staring at the package, still unwrapped, lying in front of me. Whitney and I had talked about this via e-mail. After a summer of reflection, I had hoped he had lost it over there, but due to past experience, he had made a special effort not to. Not that I can explain this to him, especially since I teased him about losing it last time. But after a summer reading Chloe's e-mails, I'm beginning to suspect that my necklace isn't the harmless bauble I had always believed it was. I shake my head, which is starting to ache at the thought. Most girls would be glad to find that their ex had the good taste to return stuff, instead of taking their anger out on the items.
Tearing my eyes away from the package, I get off the bed and go to the window. As I look toward where I know the Kent barn is, I'm tempted to just stuff the box in my pocket, run over there and give the thing to Chloe. Not that she'll know what to do with it, any more than I do. Or Clark, for that matter. Maybe he would at that. I lean against the windowsill, looking out at the autumn sky. It no longer seems as crisp or as blue as it had earlier. I sigh and glance back at the bed. The box sits there, waiting patiently.
I swear it's calling out to me. Not audibly, of course, but a subtle pull tugging at me. I realize that I've been rubbing the spot where the stone normally falls when I'm wearing it. How long have I been doing that? I look at my fingers in disgust and shove them into my pockets. Chloe's right, the meteor rocks are dangerous. But what has mine been doing to me? And more importantly, what's going to happen if I start wearing again? I shiver as I start thinking about all the things that Chloe's been telling me about the rocks. The chill in the room gets worse.
I'm not even sure where Nell had gotten the necklace. She always told me that it was from the meteor shower, but whether or not it was from the exact meteor which had flattened my parents, she had never really said. I guess in my childhood desire to hold on to the past, the need for parents being so overwhelming, I began to believe it had been. Oh, how morbid. I end up shivering over the thought. It was only after I had given the necklace to Whitney, that I had really begun to shake the obsession I had over the past. I look again out the window, only this time my gaze is attracted to the Smallville cemetery. I swallow painfully. I haven't been out there since the tornado.
I blink sharply. What am I doing? Just this afternoon Chloe and I were joking about the future. Now I'm wallowing in the past. I feel like I'm being sucked down in a pool of quicksand. I glance again at the package lying on the bed, a small suspicion growing in the back of my mind. Carefully, I walk back to the bed, eyeing the package as if it were a snake coiled there, waiting to strike. I stare at it, willing it to do something. But nothing does. Nothing outlandish, anyway. And yet, I can swear I felt a pull on me, an invitation. A part of me, the saner part, wants to run away from this place, screaming bloody murder.
So why did I just sit back down on the bed? I tuck my legs underneath me and squiggle up next to the headboard. I stare at the small box at the other end of bed. Maybe I'm just being spooked by Chloe's stories. I close my eyes, thinking back to when Nell first gave me the necklace. It was my sixth birthday. I can remember the fascination I had with it, making it glow in the sunlight. I would even talk to it, pretending it was a magic wishing stone . . . .
I snap out of my daydream in horror. I need to get out of here, away from that . . . thing, but I can't seem to move. My gaze is drawn back to the package. I'm stuck here. "Lana?" I literally jump three inches in the air from my sitting position. I've been so entranced with my thoughts I didn't even hear Nell come up the stairs. She's standing in the doorway, looking at me with a puzzled look. "Aren't you going to open it?" she says, gently. She's right, I need to get this over. I swallow hard and reach for the package.
This is my first line fic, which means the first line is Maveness Delight's and the rest is mine. It's a Lana POV, and a horror fic. {Yes, Paper, I hear you giggling :p) Hopefully, it's more horror than angst. Anyway, let me know what you folks think of it.
The Bauble By Thanet
"Yeah and I'm going to change my name to Nancy Drew"
I giggle. I've been giggling ever since Chloe offered me a ride home. We had taken some silly aptitude test at school and had received the results today. Chloe, of course, was so confident she'd end up with journalist. Instead, she'd gotten law enforcement/detective, which has caused a continuous flood of snarky comments. Seriously, it's been nothing but one flippant remark after another. I'm beginning to think she offered to drive me home just so she'd have an audience.
"I mean, I don't even look good in dark blue - you can just forget the black uniform - the last thing I'm becoming is some overworked, underpaid stormtrooper . . ."
I laugh out loud. Looking up out of the car window, the sky is one of those piercing clear blues that you get only during a Kansas Indian summer. Somebody's burning off their fields and the smoky smell blends with those coming from pine trees lining the road. I'm so entranced I nearly miss Chloe's next question. Not like she's allowed me to squeeze in more than three words put together during the entire ride. "So, Lana, what's did you get?" I shrug, feigning disinterest. "Nothing worth mentioning"
But Chloe isn't letting me off, "Come on, girl, give already!" "Commercial Artist" I roll my eyes. "Like I'm even good at art." Chloe laughs. "Didn't you nearly flunk art last semester? Seriously, who ever grades these things ought to be checked for illegal drugs. This whole mess is just begging for an article in the Torch. " I try to hide a grin. "Did you hear what Clark ended up with?" "No, what?" "Journalist"
I nearly lose my seat as Chloe suddenly has trouble keeping the car on the road. It's a good thing they don't make mailboxes with feelings. Otherwise, quite a few would start bearing grudges against her for the resulting near misses. Not only am I fighting to keep a hold on the dashboard, but with the look on Chloe's face, I have the hardest time not roaring with laughter. I don't think I've ever seen that color of pink before. "Chloe!" "Sorry, it's the roads around here - another editorial that needs doing." Oh, right, it's the roads. I suppress a snicker. She tries to cover up the gaff, "See, this is exactly what I'm saying - Clark a journalist - really, let's think about this." Fortunately, Nell's house comes up before she can really start rolling. She manages to stop at the front sidewalk. For which I'm grateful, seeing how last night's rainstorm has left large muddy puddles in the yard. As a parting shot, I mention that Pete got the politician he was looking for. Chloe rolls her eyes. "Of course, Pete ends up in politics, where else would he end up?" Sarcasm has always been her strong suit. Giggling again, I manage to get out of the car without spilling my books and papers all over the ground. "See you at the Talon later?" "Sure, right after I read the riot act to Kent for not telling me what he got." We wave and as she drives off toward Clark's, I turn toward the house.
Autumn is always bittersweet for me. The colors and the smells are exciting, yet I can't help remembering that all of this is just in preparation for the winter to come. Before I start toward the house, I take a deep breath, savoring the fragile scents coming from the farms next door, reluctantly letting go at the end. I shiver as a breeze picks up and blows through the yard. Clutching my books closer, I walk forward, skipping over the wet leaves clumped on the sidewalk. As I reach the porch, I glance towards the Kents' farm. Chloe probably has Clark buttonholed up in the loft by now, listening to his hastily thought out explanations. I'll hear about it later tonight at the Talon, from both sides. Smiling at the thought, I walk into the house.
The smile vanishes as I walk in. The house seems colder this afternoon than when I left this morning. A coolness I can't ascribe to the weather outside. Nell is here in the front hallway waiting for me. Her expression worries me. It's the bitter expression I haven't seen since before she and Dean began dating. Since before Whitney left, actually. Oh no, Whitney. I can feel my own face going pale. Nell does nothing to end the anxiety by shrugging toward the dining room table, and saying, "You've got a package today in the mail." I know she still doesn't understand why I called it off with Whitney. Despite my explanations to the contrary, she still suspects Clark talked me into it. Old history repeating itself, she calls it.
I glance over toward the table. A small rectangular package wrapped in brown mailing paper is sitting there. The chill in the house works its way into my bones. I already know what's in it, and I really dread opening it up. I nod, thank Nell, and drop my schoolbooks into a nearby chair. She sniffs and vanishes into the other side of the house. I pick up the package. The return address is from a military base, somewhere unpronounceable in Afghanistan. As I'm heading up to my room, I can hear her talking on the kitchen phone to Dean. The chill follows me up the stairs.
So I'm sitting here on my bed staring at the package, still unwrapped, lying in front of me. Whitney and I had talked about this via e-mail. After a summer of reflection, I had hoped he had lost it over there, but due to past experience, he had made a special effort not to. Not that I can explain this to him, especially since I teased him about losing it last time. But after a summer reading Chloe's e-mails, I'm beginning to suspect that my necklace isn't the harmless bauble I had always believed it was. I shake my head, which is starting to ache at the thought. Most girls would be glad to find that their ex had the good taste to return stuff, instead of taking their anger out on the items.
Tearing my eyes away from the package, I get off the bed and go to the window. As I look toward where I know the Kent barn is, I'm tempted to just stuff the box in my pocket, run over there and give the thing to Chloe. Not that she'll know what to do with it, any more than I do. Or Clark, for that matter. Maybe he would at that. I lean against the windowsill, looking out at the autumn sky. It no longer seems as crisp or as blue as it had earlier. I sigh and glance back at the bed. The box sits there, waiting patiently.
I swear it's calling out to me. Not audibly, of course, but a subtle pull tugging at me. I realize that I've been rubbing the spot where the stone normally falls when I'm wearing it. How long have I been doing that? I look at my fingers in disgust and shove them into my pockets. Chloe's right, the meteor rocks are dangerous. But what has mine been doing to me? And more importantly, what's going to happen if I start wearing again? I shiver as I start thinking about all the things that Chloe's been telling me about the rocks. The chill in the room gets worse.
I'm not even sure where Nell had gotten the necklace. She always told me that it was from the meteor shower, but whether or not it was from the exact meteor which had flattened my parents, she had never really said. I guess in my childhood desire to hold on to the past, the need for parents being so overwhelming, I began to believe it had been. Oh, how morbid. I end up shivering over the thought. It was only after I had given the necklace to Whitney, that I had really begun to shake the obsession I had over the past. I look again out the window, only this time my gaze is attracted to the Smallville cemetery. I swallow painfully. I haven't been out there since the tornado.
I blink sharply. What am I doing? Just this afternoon Chloe and I were joking about the future. Now I'm wallowing in the past. I feel like I'm being sucked down in a pool of quicksand. I glance again at the package lying on the bed, a small suspicion growing in the back of my mind. Carefully, I walk back to the bed, eyeing the package as if it were a snake coiled there, waiting to strike. I stare at it, willing it to do something. But nothing does. Nothing outlandish, anyway. And yet, I can swear I felt a pull on me, an invitation. A part of me, the saner part, wants to run away from this place, screaming bloody murder.
So why did I just sit back down on the bed? I tuck my legs underneath me and squiggle up next to the headboard. I stare at the small box at the other end of bed. Maybe I'm just being spooked by Chloe's stories. I close my eyes, thinking back to when Nell first gave me the necklace. It was my sixth birthday. I can remember the fascination I had with it, making it glow in the sunlight. I would even talk to it, pretending it was a magic wishing stone . . . .
I snap out of my daydream in horror. I need to get out of here, away from that . . . thing, but I can't seem to move. My gaze is drawn back to the package. I'm stuck here. "Lana?" I literally jump three inches in the air from my sitting position. I've been so entranced with my thoughts I didn't even hear Nell come up the stairs. She's standing in the doorway, looking at me with a puzzled look. "Aren't you going to open it?" she says, gently. She's right, I need to get this over. I swallow hard and reach for the package.