Author's spiel: I'm back, y'all. Hope you didn't mind the wait...heck, I hope you didn't mind the first chapter, either. = ) Anyway, school's out so I figured I'd give myself a little present by actually having time to write, ya know? So here it is...review if you want, but once again it doesn't matter--it's really short, I know, because I'm writing it in one sitting. If you want me to continue (or if you're a: Trix. or b: Calico, email me because I want to know what you two think about where I should take this piece o' crap) just review. Read on!--Annest
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One thing Rory loved about reading was style. Style over substance wasn't usually her cup of tea, but once she was really fascinated by the writing itself it was so easy to go beyond the fluff of a story and delve into the mind of the writer himself.
So perhaps My Antonia wasn't the best book as far as plots went. Rory had never lived on the prairie--heck, she didn't even like reading the Laura Ingalls Wilder books very much. But the second she started to read she became so engrossed in Willa Cather's style of writing that she couldn't help herself; reading it turned into a study of the style, the words she used to create such beautiful, vivacious images. So engrossed she was that she barely noticed Jess as he leaned against the door frame of the diner.
"Rory, Chilton's out for the summer. Certainly, this being your last day, you could at least take that huge bag off now that you're finished," he told her with a wry glance. Startled, she looked up, jumping a little inside when she looked into his eyes, but that was soon ignored in favor of her most recent discovery.
"Jess! You have got to read this. I mean have to. It's possibly one of the more amazing books of all time."
Jess stooped to take a look at the cover and grimaced. "Isn't that the chick who wrote O Pioneers?"
"Yeah..."
"And isn't it all, like, Little House on the Prairie?"
"Yeah..."
"And you like it?
"Yeah..."
"And you're sure you're not drunk? High? What exactly do they give you at that school?" he asked derisively.
"No, I'm serious!" she said as the two wandered into the nice, cool diner. No one seemed to be around, so they found their way up to the apartment. "You don't understand. It's...well...it's not about the plot. Really. I mean, right now, the plot's kind of pointless. Not pointless, persay, because I guess there's some interesting stuff, like this story about these wolves, which was really really gory--I don't think I've read anything that strange lately, I mean it was really truly--"
"Rory," Jess cut her off with a look, "you're babbling."
"Oh, oh yeah," Rory said with a grin. "Anyway, no, this Cather lady has some amazing writing. It's phenomenal. That's mainly why I'm reading it--the way she uses these words...it's so...unreal," she told him. Coming back from her rant, she looked at Jess, who hadn't really said much else. He, on the other hand, was just looking at her with a very strange expression on his face. "What?"
"Nothing," Jess shrugged. They ambled into his room, spacious now because of the finished addition. Rory always joked that just gave him more room in which to make a mess, and, in truth, it did. She threw aside one of HER sweatshirts he had oh-so-selfishly stolen and took her customary seat on an overstuffed chair in the corner.
"Jess!" Luke bellowed from downstairs. Rory laughed at the scrunched-up look on her best friend's face.
"The powers that be call," he said, rolling his eyes. Jess shot Rory a questioning look.
"I'm gonna hang out up here, finish reading. If he's yelling for you, Taylor must be down there. And I absolutely will not allow Taylor to distract me from..."
"...this seriously awesome writing," he mimicked to finish her sentence. With a grin, he left, leaving the bedroom door open. Seconds later Rory could hear the door to main room slam shut, and she returned to My Antonia.
"Ow," she groaned after awhile. Rory got up, certain she was sitting on something, and felt on the surface of the chair. A black hardback book was sticking up between the cushion and the arm. She opened it innocently, assuming that it was a book without a jacket, and took a glance at the first page.
It's not in the way you love me
But what you say when I'm with you
And if we could never be together again
I wouldn't say a thing, because there's nothing I could do
But just take a look
and I know you'll see
everything I could never say
In my eyes I hold the key
to all my feelings you say I hide
It's not even that you love me, because I believe you don't--
No, that's not what keeps me alive--
But the hope in me,
The glimmer inside
because I see the possibility
of love in your eyes.
Yes we may be...
complicated, understandably
But I feel bad for those
who love blindly through simplicity.
Her heart was racing, her pulse beating a cadence through her body, her breath was catching in her throat. Rory thought she was dying. Shock coursed over her entire person, utter disbelief at the words she had just seen, and yet such a feeling of certainty that the words were beyond truth--she blinked once, twice. To the next page, and the next.
Footsteps were light on the stairs up to the apartment, and Rory froze. Then Luke's voice came from downstairs; "Jess!" The footfalls faded away, and she let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. Furtively, she glanced around the room, eyes finally landing on a pad of paper and a pen.
Rory quickly scribbled down the first poem, the second, the third, even a few after that, her heart racing the entire time. By the time she was finished copying the sixth one, she felt just a little guilty, and yet sad at the same time. Rory slid the journal back into its original place as Jess' foosteps were once again heard on the stairs, and this time were not called back; she calmed herself and covertly marked her actual place in My Antonia and started again about twenty pages later--Jess was observant, he would easily notice.
"Hey, your mom's downstairs, she wants to go rent a movie," Jess told her, flopping down onto the bed. Rory shot him a wry look as if nothing had happened and started to the door. Remembering her desperate look around the room earlier, she stopped by one of the expansive bookshelves and pulled out a book to toss onto his reclined form.
"Bye, Dodger," Rory said with a grin before disappearing out of the bedroom and down the stairs.
Jess looked at the worn, frayed copy of My Antonia and back to the doorway through which she had passed. "Bye, Antonia," he told the feeling of Rory that was still left in the room.
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El Fin (para ahora) Do you like it? I'll continue, I promise, because now I want to. I don't know when I'll get time, but I definitely hope to. Anyway, remember my author's note!--Annest
______________________________
One thing Rory loved about reading was style. Style over substance wasn't usually her cup of tea, but once she was really fascinated by the writing itself it was so easy to go beyond the fluff of a story and delve into the mind of the writer himself.
So perhaps My Antonia wasn't the best book as far as plots went. Rory had never lived on the prairie--heck, she didn't even like reading the Laura Ingalls Wilder books very much. But the second she started to read she became so engrossed in Willa Cather's style of writing that she couldn't help herself; reading it turned into a study of the style, the words she used to create such beautiful, vivacious images. So engrossed she was that she barely noticed Jess as he leaned against the door frame of the diner.
"Rory, Chilton's out for the summer. Certainly, this being your last day, you could at least take that huge bag off now that you're finished," he told her with a wry glance. Startled, she looked up, jumping a little inside when she looked into his eyes, but that was soon ignored in favor of her most recent discovery.
"Jess! You have got to read this. I mean have to. It's possibly one of the more amazing books of all time."
Jess stooped to take a look at the cover and grimaced. "Isn't that the chick who wrote O Pioneers?"
"Yeah..."
"And isn't it all, like, Little House on the Prairie?"
"Yeah..."
"And you like it?
"Yeah..."
"And you're sure you're not drunk? High? What exactly do they give you at that school?" he asked derisively.
"No, I'm serious!" she said as the two wandered into the nice, cool diner. No one seemed to be around, so they found their way up to the apartment. "You don't understand. It's...well...it's not about the plot. Really. I mean, right now, the plot's kind of pointless. Not pointless, persay, because I guess there's some interesting stuff, like this story about these wolves, which was really really gory--I don't think I've read anything that strange lately, I mean it was really truly--"
"Rory," Jess cut her off with a look, "you're babbling."
"Oh, oh yeah," Rory said with a grin. "Anyway, no, this Cather lady has some amazing writing. It's phenomenal. That's mainly why I'm reading it--the way she uses these words...it's so...unreal," she told him. Coming back from her rant, she looked at Jess, who hadn't really said much else. He, on the other hand, was just looking at her with a very strange expression on his face. "What?"
"Nothing," Jess shrugged. They ambled into his room, spacious now because of the finished addition. Rory always joked that just gave him more room in which to make a mess, and, in truth, it did. She threw aside one of HER sweatshirts he had oh-so-selfishly stolen and took her customary seat on an overstuffed chair in the corner.
"Jess!" Luke bellowed from downstairs. Rory laughed at the scrunched-up look on her best friend's face.
"The powers that be call," he said, rolling his eyes. Jess shot Rory a questioning look.
"I'm gonna hang out up here, finish reading. If he's yelling for you, Taylor must be down there. And I absolutely will not allow Taylor to distract me from..."
"...this seriously awesome writing," he mimicked to finish her sentence. With a grin, he left, leaving the bedroom door open. Seconds later Rory could hear the door to main room slam shut, and she returned to My Antonia.
"Ow," she groaned after awhile. Rory got up, certain she was sitting on something, and felt on the surface of the chair. A black hardback book was sticking up between the cushion and the arm. She opened it innocently, assuming that it was a book without a jacket, and took a glance at the first page.
It's not in the way you love me
But what you say when I'm with you
And if we could never be together again
I wouldn't say a thing, because there's nothing I could do
But just take a look
and I know you'll see
everything I could never say
In my eyes I hold the key
to all my feelings you say I hide
It's not even that you love me, because I believe you don't--
No, that's not what keeps me alive--
But the hope in me,
The glimmer inside
because I see the possibility
of love in your eyes.
Yes we may be...
complicated, understandably
But I feel bad for those
who love blindly through simplicity.
Her heart was racing, her pulse beating a cadence through her body, her breath was catching in her throat. Rory thought she was dying. Shock coursed over her entire person, utter disbelief at the words she had just seen, and yet such a feeling of certainty that the words were beyond truth--she blinked once, twice. To the next page, and the next.
Footsteps were light on the stairs up to the apartment, and Rory froze. Then Luke's voice came from downstairs; "Jess!" The footfalls faded away, and she let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. Furtively, she glanced around the room, eyes finally landing on a pad of paper and a pen.
Rory quickly scribbled down the first poem, the second, the third, even a few after that, her heart racing the entire time. By the time she was finished copying the sixth one, she felt just a little guilty, and yet sad at the same time. Rory slid the journal back into its original place as Jess' foosteps were once again heard on the stairs, and this time were not called back; she calmed herself and covertly marked her actual place in My Antonia and started again about twenty pages later--Jess was observant, he would easily notice.
"Hey, your mom's downstairs, she wants to go rent a movie," Jess told her, flopping down onto the bed. Rory shot him a wry look as if nothing had happened and started to the door. Remembering her desperate look around the room earlier, she stopped by one of the expansive bookshelves and pulled out a book to toss onto his reclined form.
"Bye, Dodger," Rory said with a grin before disappearing out of the bedroom and down the stairs.
Jess looked at the worn, frayed copy of My Antonia and back to the doorway through which she had passed. "Bye, Antonia," he told the feeling of Rory that was still left in the room.
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El Fin (para ahora) Do you like it? I'll continue, I promise, because now I want to. I don't know when I'll get time, but I definitely hope to. Anyway, remember my author's note!--Annest
