so this story could change to a romance in the future. I am undecided. I havent got a clue how i want to end this story yet; originally i wasnt going to go anywhere near a happy ending (which is why this is listed as tragedy because lets face it, what else is more tragic than not being able to love someone fully for fear of rejection?) but for the time being i am thoroughly undecided. Dont freak out though, the end is nowhere in sight and i plan to squeeze several more chapters out of my brain before thinking about a finale. I just wanted to throw that idea out there and see who bites.
thanks a million to Nightbloodwolf, Kyuubi123 and teiaramogami for the lovely reviews. And to my silent alerts and favourites im gonna do something uncouth and call you out, 11XxDEADSILENCExX11, Randomlysinging, AnimeOtakuBara, Shepard of the Damned, VampireSiren and Midnight-Shadow-Wolfling! Dont freak out, im just gonna bug you for reviews, one from each of you and i would soil myself with happiness. LOVE MEEEEEE! I dont care if you have nothing at all to say, even just a quick "yay for update" or "you have body odour" will make me happy. Maybe not so much that i have b.o. but either way just let me know youre alive.
Volcano Choir – Seeplymouth
Nemophilist : one who is fond of the forest.
Steam rose from a window, giving a humid contrast to all the snow. As he was leaving Charlotte's home Jason saw this and felt compelled to feel the steam. Through the window and the frosted glass of the shower door he saw the curiously abstract vision of all that red blood flowing down and leaving fresh pink skin in its wake. He couldn't see anything more than her outline, more of a vague blur than a body, but all the same he couldn't tear his feet from their spot.
Her hands moved their way in small circles to scrub away the blood with a frilly blue loofah; they lingered in her hair. Standing in the halo of steam Jason was sure that even if she stared right at him she wouldn't be able to see him. So he didn't move an inch from where he stood until the water stopped.
Feeling very warm, Jason retreated to the mines and eventually his bed.
He couldn't stop thinking about the next time he would see her, playing out silly scenarios in his head and imagining what she would look like laughing; if her eyes would crinkle in the corners, or if her mouth would open really wide and accentuate her laugh lines. But how he could go about trying to make her laugh was a better and more pressing question. After a few days he could no longer postpone another meeting.
He felt fear before he left Camp Crystal Lake. In his mind it could go one of two ways. Either she would panic and try to flee because even though he meant her no harm, she would feel threatened or frightened or confused. Or, she would be cold and indifferent to his presence and make it clear that she did not want him around. Either scenario filled him with dread.
Thinking back to that night in the forest when she had unknowingly stumbled into his territory, Jason was reminded of a story his mother used to read to him. She would read him stories from the bible but only one stuck in his mind until this very moment. In truth, he hadn't remembered of any of them until the gears clicked into place and he was able to make the connection.
In ancient Egypt there was an evil king who had enslaved the entire population of Hebrews. In his fear induced delirium, he ordered all male children to be murdered so that they could never revolt against his rule. One mother did all she could to save her son, but eventually she was forced to send him down the Nile in a bulrush basket because she could no longer protect him from the evils of the king. The Egyptian princess was miraculously the one to find this baby and she raised him as her own son, naming him Moses because she found him in the river.
The rest of the story was unimportant to Jason, but what struck him was the metaphor of the baby in the bulrush basket. He was sent downstream into the arms of someone with the power to help him and if the princess had not been there, Moses would have drowned.
Metaphors are dangerous.
The snow had piled up all through the week and Jason found himself wading through it, but he quickly lost patience and simply trudged through, leaving huge, stretched footprints. It was midday, Charlotte would be awake by then.
The closer he got to her end of the lake the harder he had to work to banish his anxiety. He must have swallowed a caterpillar some time ago because that was the only explanation for the incessant fluttering in his stomach.
As he took the last few steps into the shadow of her cottage he saw that she was oblivious on the deck. To his slight disappointment she was smoking, but she was also lost in thought so completely that he was all but invisible. He hated how quiet he was being but it seemed he was making even less noise than usual despite the fact that he had never wanted to be louder before in his life. He didn't want to sneak up on her and have the outcome be terror. It's not as if he was trying to get her heart pumping and her flight reflex kicking in, he just wanted to see her.
To combat his unwelcome stealth, he trudged loudly through the snow and kicked it into the air, and he tapped his fingers on the edge of the deck where he could reach.
Past the hollow whistle of her exhale, Charlotte did hear something. As she turned her head to the noise she saw Jason and smiled.
"Hello!" she said (with intolerable brightness, in her opinion).
All doubts vanished. She was happy to see him. All her teeth were visible, free from her smiling lips. He felt himself flush and smile under his mask as he waved shyly to her. She was at a loss for only a moment before she crushed her half-smoked cigarette in an ashtray. "Come sit down, Jason. Sit with me." Jason was on the second step before Charlotte had an idea. "Do you want the paper again?" He nodded and she bade him another smile that could melt a glacier.
tELL ME ABOUt ALBERt
She was mildly surprised that he remembered his name. Obviously, she had no way of knowing that upon hearing that she had been married, Jason could not stop thinking about the name Albert and what information could be squeezed out of the two syllables.
"I wouldn't know where to begin... We were really young when we got married – I was twenty-one, he was twenty-three. We started this real estate business together in Manhattan and it took off within the year. We were making unbelievable money from then on for six years. We actually met when we were getting out realtor's licenses. The thing is... we worked so hard to build that company up and climb the corporate ladder side by side. We dedicated years to it. I thought we were happy – Albert was happy as far as I know and I was happy too. But when he died, I realized how empty my life was. Without him I finally saw how pathetic all our attempts at success were because without him it was all worthless. Every cent we earned lost its value to me when the light in his eyes went out... I was in the hospital with him when he died. He just slipped away. I thought he would make it for a while, but he just stopped responding and... I had to let him go."
To combat the sudden soul ache Charlotte reached instinctively for the pack of Camels but she stopped dead when Jason's eyes narrowed into slits. "Do these bother you?" she asked warily, feeling an uncertain kind of fear when he nodded. She was about to apologize but Jason waved his hand in a noncommittal gesture. She didn't want to take any sign for granted. "Are you sure?" Charlotte took very careful consideration of this accepting gesture and decided never, under any circumstances to test it further. But she smoked her cigarette without any more complaint than those narrowed eyes.
Later that day they took a walk that lasted hours. Every so often Jason would stop to write something against a tree, but they would walk in this fashion without many other obstacles. All the trees were coated in ice, looking almost as if they were brand new and wrapped in plastic. Charlotte remarks quietly on this and added after a short thought, "It's weird how the natural and artificial can be so alike sometimes." After a much longer thought, Jason agreed. Despite how badly she wished to keep walking, Charlotte couldn't keep her shivering under control and had to turn back. Jason walked her home in comfortable silence, both of their paces slowed abnormally in an unconscious lament.
The next day Jason came back to walk with her again. Charlotte explained that she was in a mood, how sometimes she would wake up with rain cloud spitting on her and it wouldn't go away no matter what she did. She didn't tell him that it had been like this since Albert died because she felt he didn't need to know and didn't want to burden him with her own regrets. But he still wanted to walk with her and this was fine because they walked for three hours in complete silence, smiling to themselves. The only noise in those three hours were of breathing and footsteps being left behind in the snow.
The rare occasion when Jason would lead her though the camp was only time she would ever see it. She never went there on her own for which Jason was appreciative. She respected his privacy. Still, he enjoyed her company; she was laid back and calm and she didn't mind the long silences that followed him like a shadow and every so often a spark of something curiously fiery would flash across her eyes. He would never bring her into the mines though, he needed that space for himself. It had to remain secret.
She fed him almost every time he came to visit. Jason was obscenely careful not to offer even a glimpse of his face. He would face another direction if he lifted his mask at all. More often than not, he would wait for Charlotte to finish eating first and clear her dishes away before he would lift a fork to his own mouth, unless she insisted he eat because she could hear his stomach from across the table. But in time she got used to this and kept a respectful distance from the subject.
She never turned him away. She never shied away from his poignant stare. She never tried to force her way into a place where he didn't want her. But it wasn't far from the truth to say she was breaking down barriers with minimal force.
Not to say that it wasn't trying for Charlotte. She was constantly on her toes. For a long time, every sudden noise outside her walls caused her to morph into a shambling ball of nerves. Aside from the half-conversations on paper (which she'd kept) Jason was entirely unable to communicate, leaving her mostly in the dark, which could be a scary place at times.
But she ignored the uncertainty and followed her instincts. He never made any sudden moves, but Charlotte couldn't be sure if this was for her benefit or simply because it was second nature to him. He snuck up on her almost constantly but she was sure this was not intentional.
In early February the snow had all but melted leaving the ground both dead and mostly bare, like a turd sprinkled sparingly with sugar. Jason and Charlotte had been walking for an hour and were well away from her cottage when Jason suddenly realized he was without paper. In their haste to enjoy the last of the snow, they had forgotten the paper. "There has to be a better way to communicate..." She barely finished the word. "Obviously! I can teach you sign language. My mother was deaf, it's practically a second language to me. We can start right now, if you want."
Jason learned the basics of sign language in only two weeks. It could have been his eagerness to communicate that was driving him to concentrate, or it was simply the chance to shamelessly stare at Charlotte and be in her company.
Soon they began to have entire conversations, instead of Charlotte's sporadic, one-sided ramblings. Inwardly, Jason missed that. At the same time, however, he was glad for the chance to speak to her more freely and not having to depend solely on paper and a pencil. Teaching Jason sign language was the smartest thing Charlotte had ever done, she decided one day, because it gave her some assurance that she wasn't bothering him with her presence. He enjoyed her companionship, which was so immensely flattering that it made her blush to acknowledge this thought.
One day in March Jason led Charlotte to his home. The sun had been hiding behind a rain cloud all week and it's sudden appearance was a little overwhelming. Jason held the broken door open for her. Inside it felt the same as outside; all the windows were either thrown open or broken. The mid-morning light illuminated every sordid detail of the house; every peel in the wallpaper, ever crack in the plaster, every layer of dust, every dish encrusted with ancient food. She tapped on the upright piano to find that only a few of the keys played at all. It was eerie.
She wandered through invisible contours of hot metal, trying not to show her discomfort. She felt dirty just by being inside this house; she couldn't imagine how Jason felt by living here. She found herself in the only working bedroom: Jasons'. Peeking out from under the bed and also piled in a corner were mounds of ruined clothes, probably torn to rags. Charlotte resolved to make him some sturdy clothes, some socks, knit him a sweater, something to make her feel less guilty. She wasn't even sure why she felt that way. Jason couldn't help but wonder what Charlotte was thinking, because she seemed to be trying to remain impassive.
On one level, Charlotte was thrilled that Jason trusted her enough to bring her into his home. She wasn't worried about being slaughtered so much anymore. On another level, she pitied him. He had been living in this dilapidated house for decades, all alone, cruel memories his only company.
"Jason... can I lift your mask?" She wasn't sure why she wanted to see his face because there had to be a reason why he hid it, but all the same she felt like it was something she should know. Jason made absolutely no response to her question which made her hesitant. He did nothing when she raised her hands to the rim of the plastic mask. She moved extremely slowly and deliberately, giving him plenty opportunity to stop her from continuing.
Jason's mind was moving at the speed of light, trying desperately to decide if he should let her do this. The moment her fingertips made to pull the mask up he decided no and roughly grabbed her wrists in a single hand. She flinched and he could see that he was hurting her but he was shaken. He only let go when he felt her gently try to pull away with her fingers splayed out in surrender.
"Okay. It's okay, Jason. You can have your secrets." Jasons' hands felt like lead, hanging like useless weights. He only hoped her declaration was true and that it wasn't blurted out in fear like the countless half-baked bargains of his victims. Suddnly, Jason felt such deep remorse because he had associated his Charlotte with his victims. His sacrifices. Those frivolous, disgusting teenagers were absolutely nothing like her and he felt ashamed to have thought them similar even in the most indirect way.
It smells like rain today, his hands told Charlotte. The rain had come back full force over the next few weeks and the grass was all green and soft again.
"We should head back then." He walked her home. Jason's hand was as stiff and unyielding as drywall in hers, but she ignored this and led him inside.
"I made you something." She rummaged through the laundry basket until she found the navy blue sweater. "Jason?" He was nowhere to be found. Charlotte frowned, then yelped when a heavy hand clapped her shoulder, thus proving her previous assessment to be false. He wasn't beside her anymore, he was behind her. "Oh! Jason you scared me!"
Charlotte was torn between watching his hands speak and watching the playful glint in his eyes.
I like scaring you.
Her jaw fell slack but she couldn't completely stop herself from grinning.
On a warm Tuesday in April, Charlotte hopped into her truck and headed to town. This regular excursion took her three or four hours, on average. The moment she disappeared on the dirt road, Jason was on her patio. Gingerly, he tried the door... and it opened. Which was strange because he had watched her put the key in the lock and turn it. She must not have locked it right. In any case, Jason was thrilled at this. He had been toying with the idea of sneaking into her home when she wasn't there (an idea which gave him a funny feeling; one that he couldn't define as good or bad) and had thought of ways he could get inside without leaving marks or damage. This convenient circumstance sped his plans to the next stage.
He wiped his boots clear of mud on the mat and stepped inside. It was faintly warm, from the embers of a dying fire in the woodstove. The house seemed much smaller without Charlotte, Jason felt claustrophobic, but he pushed aside his discomfort so he could do what he came to do. He actually didn't come to do anything in particular, he only wanted to immerse himself in her home, become a part of it, in a metaphysical way.
He shut the door deftly behind him and allowed his eyes to roam over every single surface, taking in all details. A key hook was the first thing he noticed, with several copper ones and two silver ones all hanging by themselves. None were on a ring, none were grouped together. The keys she kept on her person were on a ring, but she wouldn't have single, loose copies of them hanging by her door. She probably didn't remember what they unlocked but didn't want to throw them away.
Everything seemed to be made of wood. Jason was hard-pressed to find a single object made of glass or metal, excluding her kitchen appliances, and the lamps which were made of brass.
There wasn't much in the way of knick-knacks, however, which made the place feel like a hotel room. At least that's what it reminded Jason of. Charlotte probably thought too much decoration was tacky. There were paintings on almost every wall; some of various landscapes, some well-known reproductions, and some outlandish abstract pieces. It was clear that she wasn't living in a blank padded cell. Less just seemed to be more.
The large kitchen window offered a clean and spectacular view of the lake without obstruction. The multi-purpose dining table was positioned directly in line with the window, which was centered on the wall and took up most of it.
There were no pictures on display. No photographs at all. Jason's curiosity for this anomaly led him to do a little searching and he found several albums hidden away in a cupboard. They had been sitting in their own dust for years, untouched and unacknowledged.
Sifting through her belongings was very wrong. Jason knew this but he didn't care. He wasn't thinking about the morality of invading her privacy, he didn't even think that he was invading her privacy. He was simply exploring an alien territory with the aim of it not being alien any longer.
thoughts?
xoxo