So, yeah. I haven't updated in a while, but I have a reason for that! I moved a couple of streets over from where my old house now rests. It's weird I know. But I really didn't want to cause a fuss about moving when it was just a couple of streets down and I would've gotten my internet back in a few days, so I didn't post an AN filled chapter thing. So I just posted the news on my profile. But anyways, I have some important, yet exciting news! A couple of days ago, I had gotten a PM from a person named Lolleys, well, she's Wordy Typewriter on . But aslkfjlsdkj. She's so cool! And we were talking, like yesterday, and she said that she'd like to write a companion piece to FTS (you know, "Facing the Swell"), it's still in Sam's POV and in 2nd person, but it's gonna have detail, and stuff. You know, like regular multi-chaptered stories.
We're kinda writing it together (she's doing the writing; I'm providing detail when she needs it), but she's the one who's gonna post it. I can't wait to see her work, because, even though she's never posted anything on here, she's let me read some of her other stuff. It's not iCarly, but it rocks! Anyways, I don't know when it's gonna be up, or what it shall be titled, yet. We're thinkng something along the lines of "Otherwise We'd All be Dead" (you know, from the summary of FTS) or just naming it "Facing the Swell", something like that. If you have any ideas for a title, please give them.
Anyways, nothing really happens in this chapter. I'm sorry. D:
Friday, October 23, 2009
Samantha!
You're waking up
to your mom's terrified
voice and face.
She's hovering above you,
visibly shaking
with an expression
full of fear
and you can smell
the alcohol
in her breath.
Samantha, please!
She screams until you think
she'll explode.
"Mom!"
You grab both sides of her face
and try with all you might
to make her stop shaking,
but she just won't stop.
"Mom, what's wrong?"
Tears are brimming her eyes
and you stop and think
for a moment.
Does she know?
Tell me that it isn't
true.
Oh, God.
She knows..
She knows!
She fucking knows!
How the hell does
she fucking know?!
You feel the fear creeping
up your throat,
and for once,
you wish it were
that shit you up chuck
every morning.
You let your hands
fall numb to your sides
as she bends down
and buries her head
into your chest.
"'M sorry..."
You have no idea
why you're apologizing
to this woman.
You really don't.
Why?
Why?!
Samantha!
You didn't expect her
to react like this.
But of course,
how does one expect
their parents to react
when they find out
their teenage daughter
is pregnant?
Why did Challam
run away?!
Why did he leave?!
...
Did you ears
just deceive you?
Did you just hear
your mother ask
why did her cat,
Challam,
run away
and not why
you've been implanted
with a spore?
Mew-yoow.
You look up
to see Challam strut
his little gray and black self
through your door.
Upon hearing the sound
of her beloved cat,
your mom jumps from you
and scampers over
to her cat.
And you can't help
but laugh
and laugh and laugh
and laugh.
You laugh until you
accidently create this pain
in your stomach
and can't laugh anymore
but you try
and it comes out
as a strangled gasp.
Tears are running
down your cheeks
when you're finally able
to release yourself
from your seemingly
uncontrollable fit
of insane laughter.
When you get to Carly's
apartment and you've
made sure that
you two are all alone,
you tell her
the little 'incident'
you had with your mother
this morning.
She reacts in a way
you expect:
horrified,
but then she proposes
an innocent question of
When are you going
to tell her?
"Never."
It's not like you haven't
thought about telling
you mom before
because you know
you have,
it's just something
that you don't think
you'll ever be ready
to tell.
Carly doesn't look
very satisfied with
your answer,
but she takes it
nonetheless.
Fine. But you know
you're going to have
to tell her, eventually,
she says.
You can't just go
around and expect
her to accept the
fact that your belly
has seemingly eaten
an oversized basket ball!
And you know this
all too well, too.
So you busy yourself
with her fridge.
Food's always been
a delicious comfort
for you.
"Hey, it could happen.
Basket ball has
always been my
favorite sport."
It's nighttime
once again
and you're sitting,
or rather, laying on your side
next to Carly
with your legs twisted
so that they can be propped
up in her lap,
and Freddie's sitting
on the floor
in front of the two
of you.
He's resting the back
of his head on
the knee cap that
you've let hang off
the edge of the couch.
He looks uncomfortable
and you know,
quite well yourself,
that your knees are boney,
yet he's still laying
his head there.
You don't know why,
but you sorta like it there.