Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me save for the wonderfully useless drabbles.
==
The Following are By Madison Square
==
Challenge by The Nameless Wonder:
Jack/Spot
137 words
kidnapping
thunderstorms
rhinestones
pink glitter
==
Rain
==
When Jack saw him he wanted him. So he
took him. Tragic tale
of lust at first sight. He stood
there, waiting for his bus, adorning a black tee with glittering
rhinestones. Rockstar. Later on Jack would
learn his name was Spot.
They sat in a forgotten gazebo of a forgotten park, overrun by plants and flowers and glass bottles and Spot said, "When are you taking me home?"
The rain whispered, never, but Jack said, "soon."
It thundered and flashed. That night they slept in the gazebo, holding each other to ward off the cold.
When they awoke, they were wet and stiff but they were happy.
The sky was pink like Jack had never seen it and the rain shone against it like the pink glitter over Spot's eyes.
Jack hoped it never stopped raining.
==
End Rain
==
One Shot [Perfect]
==
The Ending.
Racetrack is in Skittery's room again.
It seems, lately, that Racetrack is more welcome in this room than his own. He
knows now that Skittery's bedspread is always black black black like his curtains and
shelves and desk and that the walls would be white if not for the posters and
drawings tacked up unprofessionally around the room. He knows that in Skttery's
dresser the top drawer contains boxers and tee-shirts; the middle drawer
contains more tee-shirts—mostly the ones with strange phrases on them; the last
drawer holds all his porno magazines and flavored condoms hidden under a layer
of socks and armbands. He knows that in
the bathroom Skittery has coconut-scented shampoo and fluffy yellow towels.
He can't remember
if in his room his walls are white or blue under the posters and whether his
socks and condoms are in his bottom drawer of maybe they aren't even in the
same drawer. And what does his shampoo
smell like again? Mint? Berries? Roses?
Race wonders how
well Snitch knows Skittery's room. Afterall, Snitch is
here almost every night. Actually,
Racetrack reasons, Snitch probably only knows the color of Skittery's
bed spread and maybe that the condoms are in the sock drawer.
Why are you here, Skittery sighs, even though he already knows
the answer. He rubs his hair with one of
his yellow towels; his brown curls are still wet and his thin white shirt
clings to his skin. Skiterry's
boxers say proudly, "I Heart NY." He
sits down on the bed—it's still warm; Snitch climbed out the window just
minutes before Racetrack arrived.
Advice, Racetrack
says. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what he's doing. Does he want me,
or not? Every other day he's with Laura
or Sarah or Tim but in the end he always comes back.
Spot's name hangs
unmentioned in the air.
I can't deal with
it anymore.
Then don't. Skittery already looks bored with the
conversation. He's had it so many times
before.
But I want to deal with it.
Then tell him
about it.
Racetrack thinks
about what Skittery says, then pointedly ignores the statement.
He says, It's like I'm on a shaky bridge blindfolded. He's on the other side. Every step I take can either bring me closer
to him, or the edge of the bridge. Every
step has to be so careful, you know? All
I want to do is run. And he's there,
waiting for me. But I just can't get to
him. I see him but I can't reach
him. I'm so lost.
Skittery listens
intently. They both wait for the perfect
answer even though there was no question to begin with. Then, finally—
Why don't you just
jump, he tells Racetrack, disgusted. Put
yourself out of your misery. 1
Racetrack remains
silent.
Before that there was Spot and Race, blue
eyes and brown eyes, Eskimo kisses and butterfly kisses and French kisses,
apologies and acceptances, lovers and anger, and before that Spot was in
Racetrack's room and before that the parents had left.
Before that.
Racetrack is at
Spot's front door and he doesn't have to ring the doorbell because the key is
hidden under the Welcome mat. He lets
himself in and sees an extra pair of shoes by the door. Spot's parents are away on a business trip so
their shoes are missing. He takes
another step and a foreign scent fills him.
The scent of cherries and sugar and sex. Scent of woman. He runs up the narrow stairs and bursts
through Spot's door.
And there they
are. Girl and boy lay on the bed,
asleep.
Spot, you fucker,
he says.
Spot stirs and
sits up but the girl stays still. He
looks at Race with unfocused eyes and a faint smile on his lips.
Good morning.
You fucker, he
repeats.
Spot looks over at
the sleeping girl and says, this is Lucy.
Racetrack shakes
his head and leaves; Spot hears him slam the front door. He goes back to sleep.
Later he'll go to
Race and apologize and make up, but not before letting Lucy draw eyeliner
around his blue eyes and place red lipstick kisses over his shoulders and
collarbone.
Before that Spot and Lucy went under the
covers and took off their clothes and played hide and seek and before that Spot
met Lucy and called her beautiful and before that he said good bye to his
parents.
Before that.
Summer brings sun
and swimsuits and laziness and weed.
Summer nights bring parties and pools and cigarettes on the side. It is summer night and Spot is sitting with
his ankles in the chlorine-water, smoking a cig, ignoring the people laughing
and dancing and swimming around him because he fucked up again.
Join the fun,
someone says above him. When Spot looks
up no one is there.
Having loads
already, he breathes to no one in particular.
He throws the cigarette into the pool and watches it die and drown.
Before that.
Spot is kissing
Blink and he likes it. Blink kisses him
back because he is the one in the corner and he has nothing else to do and Spot
is pretty spiffy looking.
Let's get a bed.
Let's get a joint.
Okay.
Okay.
That's when
Racetrack sees them in the corner and feels fury curdle the blood in his
veins. He rushes up to them and pulls
Spot away. Blink looks dazed, then
sheepish, cheeks turning from blush-red to scarlet. Spot looks at Race in the eyes, unwavering
even though he is drunk.
Racetrack wants to
hit him, hard. Hit him until his own
knuckles start to bleed. Hear the
satisfying slap of flesh hitting flesh.
But again, like
later, he turns away and lets Spot deal with the
consequences.
And before that there were drinks and
before that they arrived and before that they sat in the car, raw emotion
playing on the radio and in the backseat, and before that Race drove to Spot's
house and before that Race was at Skittery's, asking
bitching asking, and before that there was three weeks of the same thing.
Before that.
Outside the
theater, Skittery says, This is Spot. He moved here from Brooklyn
a few weeks ago.
Race says, Hi
Spot, and Spot's eyes bore right through him.
Race shivers even through it's the middle of the summer.
Who are you? he asks, his voice low.
That's Racetrack,
Snitch answers for him, linking his arm through Skittery's.
Oh.
Hi.
Yeah,
hi.
Spot is still
staring at him and Racetrack has to look away.
Silence descended and stifles the group.
Skittery glances at them both nervously and says, Come on. The movie is about to start.
They go in.
Before that Skittery and Snitch and Race
sat in the car and before that Skittery told them they were meeting someone and
before that Race was asleep on his bed and before that they made plans and
before that he lit up and smoked a joint.
Before that.
Everything was
perfect.
The Beginning.
==
End [Perfect]
==
[A/N]: 1 Quote from Annie Dillard's The Writing Life.
Dear Spotlover421, Buttons14, and Checkmate,
I SWEAR that I'm working on
your challenges as well. Really. I've just
been mucho busy and haven't had much time.
Plus, I'm going away for summer school on Saturday, so I won't have much
time for three weeks (again). I think
I'll be able to work on them while I'm in California,
though (which is where my summer school is).
Again, I'M SORRY. I'll be back in
August, hopefully.
Much love,
MS
DEAR EVERYONE IN GENERAL,
Last update before leaving for
California. Then I'll be back around August.
Much Love,
MS
Challenges welcome and wanted (I'll probably need something to do while I
should be studying, you know, in summer school)
Shoutouts:
Spotlover421: Hehe. Thanx! I PROMISE that I'll work on your
challenge. I'm just lazy.
Strawberri
Shake: I TOLD you I was insane. Yes, Spot as a man-whore. It works, positive. Haha. Thanx
for the review!
Buttons14: Wait, you don't drink Coke because it's good
for your muscles? Or I'm assuming you
were talking about the gingerale…Hm…I
don't like soda, so I can't relate. Thanx for the review!!!
P.S. I've never seen Jesus Christ
Superstar, so your challenge is a bit iffy.
Never fear, I'll get it done!
studentnumber24601: ::beams:: Thank you much. Lalala. Thanx for the review.
Checkmate: I like your challenge. It's very…random. Nice.
I'll get to it, don't worry. Thanx for the review!!
The Nameless Wonder: Er, I don't speak
German, so I really have no idea what you said, but…thanx? I hope you liked this SPACK. That's such a funny word. Hehe. Thanx
for the review!
C.M. Higgins: Thank you! Well, you know, I'M a bit on the disturbed
side, as well, so naturally my writing will reflect that. Haha. Thanx
for the review!
Review? Please?