Home for the holidays- by Crunch
Ooh, I just love these fuzzy little one-chapter pieces. No work, and lots of fun to write, ey? Just a little something to take up your time. Read, enjoy and REVIEW!!! For the love of Skittery, review.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
~*~
They'll be cold and stormy weather,
But we'll all be together,
Oh! There's no place like home for the holidays.
~*~
"You got da cigars?"
"No, I ate dose." He cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah, I got em right heah." I tossed him the crushed package of contraband with a grin. "You owe me one, Race."
After tearing open the carton and reveling in the long forgotten scent of tobacco, he grunted appreciatively and flipped me a grimy nickel, kept hidden in the tattered lining of his trouser pockets. "T'anks, pal."
"Eh, Don't mention it. Call it an early Christmas present." He laughed and stretched out on the dilapidated bunk, chest heaving at the weak puffs of breath escaping his blue-tinged lips every few seconds.
"Christmas. I forgot. Dat makes it aroun' three months, don't it?"
"Yup, three Gawd damn months in da refuge." I winced as the familiar, ominous coughing fit wracked his small frame.
"Ey, close da window, will ya, pal?" With a quick glance around to make sure the coast was Snyder-clear, I stood and shuffled towards the chipped windowpane. Outside, the falling snow carpeted the velvety black night in a deathly silence. Every few seconds, a new flake would slam against the frosted iron bars, weaving lacy patterns of ice across their smooth, claustrophobic surface. Shivering and cursing under my breath, I reached out and tugged on the frozen handle with all my fading strength, to no avail. The window was frosted open.
"Ey, Tiny." I turned and nudged the pint-sized orphan curled up on his moth eaten mattress to the left of me. "You got a pillow or somethin I could shove in da window? It won't close."
"Ah, shut yer trap, I'se tryin' ta sleep." He squeaked and rolled over.
"Yeah, t'anks fah nothing." Sniffling, I scanned the desolate barracks. Across the room, some random street rat had hung a makeshift wreath of grimy, knotted socks, tied together with frayed shoelaces to the warped wooden door. "Ho ho ho." I muttered, cramming the attempt at Christmas cheer into the crack. It barely stifled the draft.
From his bunk, Race painfully propped himself upright. "Nevah mind dat, Skitts, I t'ink I hears 'is honor coming." He hissed.
"Shit." I hustled back to my own bed amidst a flurry of tidying and fussing as the dormitory door swung open. After a moment's glance, Snyder stalked in and paced down the aisle, glaring down at his prisoners with distaste. Like we were a swarm of dead flies floating in his Eggnog. As the despised cane wrapped menacingly against the cross bars of a random bunk, every head sank lower; every pair of shoulders sagged. Out of the corner of my downcast eyes, I saw Race clenching his teeth in an effort not to cough and disturb the peace, trying so hard his whole body shook. Finally, satisfied with the oppressive silence filling the room, the Warden's rat-like face split into a rare but nasty grin.
"Merry Christmas, boys." With a turn of his patent leather heel he strolled out, whistling 'Home for the holidays' as he went. I imagined I could still hear that grating, nasally whistling long after he'd disappeared.
"Racetrack, you ok?"
"Yeah, yeah, just peachy." He grunted weakly, his flushed skin fading back to its normal color. "Really, I'm alright." He reassured me as I cast off my worn boots and plopped down on my bunk, opposite his. "Hey, Skitts, ya know where I wish I was right now?" I sighed and played along, even though this game always got me down.
"Where's dat, pal?"
"Anywhere but here. Heh heh." He chuckled as a chorus of suggestions rang out from all corners of the room.
"I wish I was sittin' by da fire in me old house!"
"I wish I was sittin' at da bar in Rosie's drinkin' a nice shot a whisky!"
"I wish I was sleepin' wid me goilfriend!"
"I wish I were wid me mudder."
"I wish I was back at da lodging house." Race cocked his head towards me as I volunteered that last one. "What do ya think they're doin' right now?" He shrugged and fingered one of his precious new cigars, more intent on his treasure then on reminiscing. That was understandable; sometimes the only way you could survive, the only way you could keep from loosing your mind, was to forget there was any other way to live. You had to just accept these things.
"Prolly dere at Irving Hall, enjoyin' da show. You know Medda always does somethin' special on Christmas Eve."
I remembered. "I bet Cowboy, an' Blink, and Specs is all there, cheerin' her on," I felt a nostalgic smile spread across my face, for the first time in weeks, despite the rumbling in my stomach and the ache in my back.
"Mm."
"Race?"
"Mm?"
I turned to him as the lights flickered off, signaling that the clock had reached 9:30; bedtime. My voice dropped to a hopeful whisper. "Ya think, maybe dere thinkin' about us? Maybe dere wishin' we was there?"
He snorted, then muffled his face in the stale mattress as another coughing fit seized him. "Sure, Skitts, dere thinkin' of us alright. I bet dey think of us after every swig a' dere whisky." He scoffed the answer that had been in my heart all along. Of course, they would have better things to do then remember us; the lost.
CLANG! CLANG! I nearly jumped out of my skin at the echoes of rocks pelting against the window of our prison.
"Hey, NEWSIES!!" The sounds of several familiar voices rang from the courtyard. "Merry Christmas, Race! Happy New Year, Skitts! See youse in a few months! Keep ya chins up, boys!!" The room erupted in chorus of stifled laughter and excited whispers that lasted long after the yells of the guards chasing off the intruders faded away. I turned to Racetrack with a rare feeling thawing my body and soul. For once, a tiny smile lurked on his features. Tiny, but genuine.
"Jack." He chuckled quietly.
"I hoid Blinks too. And Boots, and Spot, I t'ink."
Race nodded and laid his head back down. "Dey were there. Dey were all there."
~*~
They'll be cold and stormy weather,
But we'll all be together,
Oh! There's no place like home for the holidays.
~*~
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Oh, so sweet. *sniffle* Well, maybe you didn't cry, but *I* did, hehe, just go REVIEW!!! Oh, and thanks to everyone who reviewed 'Someday. . .', I'll thank y'all again later. REVIEW!
Ooh, I just love these fuzzy little one-chapter pieces. No work, and lots of fun to write, ey? Just a little something to take up your time. Read, enjoy and REVIEW!!! For the love of Skittery, review.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
~*~
They'll be cold and stormy weather,
But we'll all be together,
Oh! There's no place like home for the holidays.
~*~
"You got da cigars?"
"No, I ate dose." He cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah, I got em right heah." I tossed him the crushed package of contraband with a grin. "You owe me one, Race."
After tearing open the carton and reveling in the long forgotten scent of tobacco, he grunted appreciatively and flipped me a grimy nickel, kept hidden in the tattered lining of his trouser pockets. "T'anks, pal."
"Eh, Don't mention it. Call it an early Christmas present." He laughed and stretched out on the dilapidated bunk, chest heaving at the weak puffs of breath escaping his blue-tinged lips every few seconds.
"Christmas. I forgot. Dat makes it aroun' three months, don't it?"
"Yup, three Gawd damn months in da refuge." I winced as the familiar, ominous coughing fit wracked his small frame.
"Ey, close da window, will ya, pal?" With a quick glance around to make sure the coast was Snyder-clear, I stood and shuffled towards the chipped windowpane. Outside, the falling snow carpeted the velvety black night in a deathly silence. Every few seconds, a new flake would slam against the frosted iron bars, weaving lacy patterns of ice across their smooth, claustrophobic surface. Shivering and cursing under my breath, I reached out and tugged on the frozen handle with all my fading strength, to no avail. The window was frosted open.
"Ey, Tiny." I turned and nudged the pint-sized orphan curled up on his moth eaten mattress to the left of me. "You got a pillow or somethin I could shove in da window? It won't close."
"Ah, shut yer trap, I'se tryin' ta sleep." He squeaked and rolled over.
"Yeah, t'anks fah nothing." Sniffling, I scanned the desolate barracks. Across the room, some random street rat had hung a makeshift wreath of grimy, knotted socks, tied together with frayed shoelaces to the warped wooden door. "Ho ho ho." I muttered, cramming the attempt at Christmas cheer into the crack. It barely stifled the draft.
From his bunk, Race painfully propped himself upright. "Nevah mind dat, Skitts, I t'ink I hears 'is honor coming." He hissed.
"Shit." I hustled back to my own bed amidst a flurry of tidying and fussing as the dormitory door swung open. After a moment's glance, Snyder stalked in and paced down the aisle, glaring down at his prisoners with distaste. Like we were a swarm of dead flies floating in his Eggnog. As the despised cane wrapped menacingly against the cross bars of a random bunk, every head sank lower; every pair of shoulders sagged. Out of the corner of my downcast eyes, I saw Race clenching his teeth in an effort not to cough and disturb the peace, trying so hard his whole body shook. Finally, satisfied with the oppressive silence filling the room, the Warden's rat-like face split into a rare but nasty grin.
"Merry Christmas, boys." With a turn of his patent leather heel he strolled out, whistling 'Home for the holidays' as he went. I imagined I could still hear that grating, nasally whistling long after he'd disappeared.
"Racetrack, you ok?"
"Yeah, yeah, just peachy." He grunted weakly, his flushed skin fading back to its normal color. "Really, I'm alright." He reassured me as I cast off my worn boots and plopped down on my bunk, opposite his. "Hey, Skitts, ya know where I wish I was right now?" I sighed and played along, even though this game always got me down.
"Where's dat, pal?"
"Anywhere but here. Heh heh." He chuckled as a chorus of suggestions rang out from all corners of the room.
"I wish I was sittin' by da fire in me old house!"
"I wish I was sittin' at da bar in Rosie's drinkin' a nice shot a whisky!"
"I wish I was sleepin' wid me goilfriend!"
"I wish I were wid me mudder."
"I wish I was back at da lodging house." Race cocked his head towards me as I volunteered that last one. "What do ya think they're doin' right now?" He shrugged and fingered one of his precious new cigars, more intent on his treasure then on reminiscing. That was understandable; sometimes the only way you could survive, the only way you could keep from loosing your mind, was to forget there was any other way to live. You had to just accept these things.
"Prolly dere at Irving Hall, enjoyin' da show. You know Medda always does somethin' special on Christmas Eve."
I remembered. "I bet Cowboy, an' Blink, and Specs is all there, cheerin' her on," I felt a nostalgic smile spread across my face, for the first time in weeks, despite the rumbling in my stomach and the ache in my back.
"Mm."
"Race?"
"Mm?"
I turned to him as the lights flickered off, signaling that the clock had reached 9:30; bedtime. My voice dropped to a hopeful whisper. "Ya think, maybe dere thinkin' about us? Maybe dere wishin' we was there?"
He snorted, then muffled his face in the stale mattress as another coughing fit seized him. "Sure, Skitts, dere thinkin' of us alright. I bet dey think of us after every swig a' dere whisky." He scoffed the answer that had been in my heart all along. Of course, they would have better things to do then remember us; the lost.
CLANG! CLANG! I nearly jumped out of my skin at the echoes of rocks pelting against the window of our prison.
"Hey, NEWSIES!!" The sounds of several familiar voices rang from the courtyard. "Merry Christmas, Race! Happy New Year, Skitts! See youse in a few months! Keep ya chins up, boys!!" The room erupted in chorus of stifled laughter and excited whispers that lasted long after the yells of the guards chasing off the intruders faded away. I turned to Racetrack with a rare feeling thawing my body and soul. For once, a tiny smile lurked on his features. Tiny, but genuine.
"Jack." He chuckled quietly.
"I hoid Blinks too. And Boots, and Spot, I t'ink."
Race nodded and laid his head back down. "Dey were there. Dey were all there."
~*~
They'll be cold and stormy weather,
But we'll all be together,
Oh! There's no place like home for the holidays.
~*~
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Oh, so sweet. *sniffle* Well, maybe you didn't cry, but *I* did, hehe, just go REVIEW!!! Oh, and thanks to everyone who reviewed 'Someday. . .', I'll thank y'all again later. REVIEW!