Okie, poor attempt, I know, but I make up in enthusiasm what I lack in talent! Go, Ravens!
To: Equilibrium Soundtrack
-ONE-
Dead silent.
The trees whispering in frightened undertones...the clashing of naked branches.
Damp grass springing underfoot. Crushed flowers, careless footprints. Fingers gripping the faded windowsill...peering inside. Trying to see.
Spiral downwards. Peaceful bedroom, soft shadows cast by the faint moonlight...partially raised screen, the plaintive chirping of night insects...flashing , brown backed cicadas and blinking fireflies. One was gripping the screen, "zeeping" repeatedly.
A clock ticked from somewhere inside the house. The bathroom faucet dripped.
School clothes spread innocently over the chairback. Scattered library books, cracked, dusty bindings lying face up staring... motionless.
Rough hands bumped the window. Sharp intake of breath...the fly scittered away in alarm.
Deeply asleep. Subconscious immersed in an alternate univerese...peaceful dream...light hair bleeding over the stark white pillow. Resting. Oblivious. Mouth gently curved, fingers splayed across the bed sheets...
Entering the house. One leg, then another, landing softly on the worn carpet. Hesitation...the curtains caught an errant breeze, billowed out, reaching for the unconscious figure, a silent warning...
The intruder leaned in close, gloved hands inspecting a discarded wallet. Flipping through it, pushing the small bills to the back in disdain. Pause-found something. Slipped it away, in a pocket; replaced the possession and gently repositioned one limp hand, retrieving the notebook underneath.
A closet door squeaked protestingly. Prone figure shifted, restless, settled back down.
Plastic hangers rattled a low key rhythm, accompanied by the dark figure's rapid heartbeat. Barely inaudible laugh-an old, soft bodied stuffed animal landed beside the notebook and assorted clothes. Several pairs of old shoes were chosen next.
The stealthy visitor edged toward the gaping window, dark sack full. It rustled as it hit the soft dirt outside; heavy boots smeared the well kept flowers into the soft dirt. Hurried down the street. Away. Muted laughter floated back...
Cold...Lucas disentangled himself from the light sheets, blinking sleepily...he must have left a window open. Funny, he hadn't remembered feeling warm last night..stayed up too late. Exams. Papers to write...he fell back onto the mattress, buried his face and tried to recapture the pleasant memories lingering just out of reach...
Couldn't sleep. Lie awake, thinking of his new teammates. Ravens. He, Lucas, a part of the much avoided band of heroes following their champion, Nathan Scott about the court. Having girls like Peyton Saywer cheering him on...
Hoped it wouldn't force him and Haley apart. She was as much a part of his family as his mom...
Tomorrow would be the day. His first game with the guys. Caught himself staring at the deep sapphire material spread on the dresser. His own uniform. Of sorts. His own number, the name "Scott" displayed across the back, for all the world to see.
He tossed, now wide awake, the last vestiges of rest eluding him...pillowed his head in his arms, traced the pattern of light seeping in from the crack under his door. He was entering His world. Dan Scott's. And he was scared.
Finally figuring a shower might relax him, Lucas stepped into the bathroom without turning on the lights. He didn't want to awaken his mom...
Cold tiles, hot needles of water prickling his sweaty skin...took deep breathes. He could do this. He could face his father. Block out any emotions, save anger and a cool indifference he knew would be singuarly frustrating...tamped the pain back inside, practiced the mask of calm uncaring...
A face for his Dad, for his half brother.
Was the whole world this messed up?
Abruptly, he savagely twisted the faucet off and leaned his head against the wall.
Lucas shook his damp hair back, jaw rigid as he stared at himself in the steamy mirror.
Blue eyes. Hard, hurt. Tousled light hair...a firm chin...no, he didn't look much like Dan. Thank God for small favors. All Tree Hill needed to make him even more of an outcast was to see a picture perfect miniature of Dan Scott sitting in Karen's shopping cart.
Would his Dad even care about seeing him? Lucas gathered what his father's impression of him was, judging by Nathan's open, brotherly personality. Granted, it stung. But he was determined to show Dan Scott that he was wrong. He wanted to prove to him, show him what a poor choicce he made, abandoning Karen, choosing Nathan over Lucas. Leaving one son behind, interfering with the other's mind till he had a Danny Boy clone with a rabid personality and a sincerely unhappy demeanor.
What a Dad.
He clenched the tube of toothpaste so hard it hurt. Pressed all the pain, the rejection and frustrations back, like a good athlete. Almost time to go.
Face the music.}
Well, let me know if I should scrap it or keep on going. And if you read this far, thanks for just sticking with me.
To: Equilibrium Soundtrack
-ONE-
Dead silent.
The trees whispering in frightened undertones...the clashing of naked branches.
Damp grass springing underfoot. Crushed flowers, careless footprints. Fingers gripping the faded windowsill...peering inside. Trying to see.
Spiral downwards. Peaceful bedroom, soft shadows cast by the faint moonlight...partially raised screen, the plaintive chirping of night insects...flashing , brown backed cicadas and blinking fireflies. One was gripping the screen, "zeeping" repeatedly.
A clock ticked from somewhere inside the house. The bathroom faucet dripped.
School clothes spread innocently over the chairback. Scattered library books, cracked, dusty bindings lying face up staring... motionless.
Rough hands bumped the window. Sharp intake of breath...the fly scittered away in alarm.
Deeply asleep. Subconscious immersed in an alternate univerese...peaceful dream...light hair bleeding over the stark white pillow. Resting. Oblivious. Mouth gently curved, fingers splayed across the bed sheets...
Entering the house. One leg, then another, landing softly on the worn carpet. Hesitation...the curtains caught an errant breeze, billowed out, reaching for the unconscious figure, a silent warning...
The intruder leaned in close, gloved hands inspecting a discarded wallet. Flipping through it, pushing the small bills to the back in disdain. Pause-found something. Slipped it away, in a pocket; replaced the possession and gently repositioned one limp hand, retrieving the notebook underneath.
A closet door squeaked protestingly. Prone figure shifted, restless, settled back down.
Plastic hangers rattled a low key rhythm, accompanied by the dark figure's rapid heartbeat. Barely inaudible laugh-an old, soft bodied stuffed animal landed beside the notebook and assorted clothes. Several pairs of old shoes were chosen next.
The stealthy visitor edged toward the gaping window, dark sack full. It rustled as it hit the soft dirt outside; heavy boots smeared the well kept flowers into the soft dirt. Hurried down the street. Away. Muted laughter floated back...
Cold...Lucas disentangled himself from the light sheets, blinking sleepily...he must have left a window open. Funny, he hadn't remembered feeling warm last night..stayed up too late. Exams. Papers to write...he fell back onto the mattress, buried his face and tried to recapture the pleasant memories lingering just out of reach...
Couldn't sleep. Lie awake, thinking of his new teammates. Ravens. He, Lucas, a part of the much avoided band of heroes following their champion, Nathan Scott about the court. Having girls like Peyton Saywer cheering him on...
Hoped it wouldn't force him and Haley apart. She was as much a part of his family as his mom...
Tomorrow would be the day. His first game with the guys. Caught himself staring at the deep sapphire material spread on the dresser. His own uniform. Of sorts. His own number, the name "Scott" displayed across the back, for all the world to see.
He tossed, now wide awake, the last vestiges of rest eluding him...pillowed his head in his arms, traced the pattern of light seeping in from the crack under his door. He was entering His world. Dan Scott's. And he was scared.
Finally figuring a shower might relax him, Lucas stepped into the bathroom without turning on the lights. He didn't want to awaken his mom...
Cold tiles, hot needles of water prickling his sweaty skin...took deep breathes. He could do this. He could face his father. Block out any emotions, save anger and a cool indifference he knew would be singuarly frustrating...tamped the pain back inside, practiced the mask of calm uncaring...
A face for his Dad, for his half brother.
Was the whole world this messed up?
Abruptly, he savagely twisted the faucet off and leaned his head against the wall.
Lucas shook his damp hair back, jaw rigid as he stared at himself in the steamy mirror.
Blue eyes. Hard, hurt. Tousled light hair...a firm chin...no, he didn't look much like Dan. Thank God for small favors. All Tree Hill needed to make him even more of an outcast was to see a picture perfect miniature of Dan Scott sitting in Karen's shopping cart.
Would his Dad even care about seeing him? Lucas gathered what his father's impression of him was, judging by Nathan's open, brotherly personality. Granted, it stung. But he was determined to show Dan Scott that he was wrong. He wanted to prove to him, show him what a poor choicce he made, abandoning Karen, choosing Nathan over Lucas. Leaving one son behind, interfering with the other's mind till he had a Danny Boy clone with a rabid personality and a sincerely unhappy demeanor.
What a Dad.
He clenched the tube of toothpaste so hard it hurt. Pressed all the pain, the rejection and frustrations back, like a good athlete. Almost time to go.
Face the music.}
Well, let me know if I should scrap it or keep on going. And if you read this far, thanks for just sticking with me.