12-18-2006, 10:25 PM
(We aren't anywhere close to being done. To be honest, this could turn into an entire novel. The first chapter was done by me, and then Celipa, and in the order of names in the thread title. All four of us have our characters, and each will unlock an individual elemental power. We're all going to Chicago right now.)
Chapter 1: Remy, to America
?Remy, do you even know what you?re doing??
??not really.?
Remy sighed reclusively as he attempted to close his last suitcase. He was supposed to be moving to America for a brief amount of time; perhaps long enough to find out if the country was really worthy of the title that pegged them as the land of opportunity. However, despite this, he found himself packing bundles of meaningless stuff. For example, he packed every article of clothing that he owned, and even some that he didn?t, which he ?borrowed? from his father. In addition, he found that he had packed little items that he couldn?t possibly use, such as his high school track trophy.
Regardless, he was packing. How long he would be gone, he didn?t know, but he was indeed moving. His mother, though sad about her son?s departure, was practically prodding him in the side as he struggled to shut the clasp on the side of his last leather bag. She was such a ponderous woman, as she rarely showed how she really felt about things. When she did, however, the motives behind her so-called feelings were stupid at best, or at least they were to the French college student. Finally, after toiling like a Hebrew slave, he closed it was resounding snap.
?Is that everything?? Remy?s mother inquired, her eyes glazed over in apparent thought. Remy glared at her briefly, and quickly looked around.
?I don?t know. Did I forget to pack my anvil?? he replied, his almost snappy nature taking hold. His mother curled her lips into a slight smile at her son?s humorous response. However, despite whatever warmth her facial expression held towards the young man, the palm of her hand couldn?t have felt colder when it connected with his cheek. It was another witty remark, and another scratch on the side of his face.
?Do you have anything else to say?? she asked, her voice still in a joyous tone. Remy, however hurt he might have felt, couldn?t help but laugh. After all, he should have been used to this sort of mistreatment. Besides, after taking into consideration all the different quirks and chemical imbalances that his mother contained, he figured that he had received the lighter portion of her wrath. It was either that, or that last slap had knocked a few brain cells loose. Regardless, he wasn?t worrying about it.
?Actually?? he added, wincing slightly in preparation of another vicious attack, ?I?m kind of wondering what America could possibly offer that France doesn?t.?
?Are you kidding me?? she responded with a laugh, ?Haven?t you heard the stories? America is the land of the free, and the home of the brave.?
?I?m not interested in a clich?. I don?t know what I have in store for me, other than medicinal malpractice and a horrible crime rate.?
?Don?t forget pollution.?
?Mother?? Remy sighed, standing up to look outside of his bedroom window, ?Has it occurred to you that I could possibly be worried about this trip? Actually, don?t bother answering. I know it hasn?t.?
Remy?s mother scoffed. She always made that sound when she was struggling to find proper words, or when she had some sort of digestion problem. Despite the potential for a heart-warming scene, Remy couldn?t help but wonder which she was feeling. Such was the way of his entire life. After his father died, his mother sunk into a fit of depression. Since then, he hadn?t heard so much as an ?I love you? from the broken woman.
?Listen, Remy?? the woman said, her tone of voice suddenly more mellow. Not really sad, or even gentle, but more like if she had just taken a tranquilizer, ?I know you don?t really like me right now. And to be honest, I really don?t blame you. I?ve been a horrible mother lately.?
?Mother?? Remy interjected, trying to stop the speech that was about to ensue.
?No, hear me out. I know I?ve been a horrible mother lately, and I wanted to make it up to you. I know I won?t be able to take care of you for much longer.?
For the first time in his life, Remy didn?t say anything. It was weird enough that the woman hadn?t smashed his face in again, she didn?t have to get emotional on him.
?So I wanted to give you a better opportunity. I wanted you to see life, and I cannot see you living life to the fullest here.?
?Mother, you?re not telling me something.?
?How?how?s that? Have I ever held anything back before??
?No, you have a definite problem about that. However, I have never seen you stutter before. So?? Remy paused. He didn?t want to choke up, but he knew that something was definitely wrong. However funny this somewhat random situation had become, he couldn?t help but fear the worst, ?Why won?t you be able to take care of me for much longer??
?Haha?? the woman laughed bitterly, knowing that she was losing an uphill battle, ?Not much gets past you, son. Guess I must have done something right?okay. Remy, I?m dying.?
There it was.
Two horrible words.
?I?m dying.?
Pain and malice began welling up inside the French student?s chest. How could she possibly do something like this to him? After all that he had been through with her? Sure, he never quite agreed with her, nor did he appreciate the random outbursts that she constantly displayed.
It was ridiculous!
Suddenly, the room began to spin. He could feel himself shaking. He thought that he was just incredibly upset, but then it occurred to him that his suitcases were rattling as much as he was. The random objects that were placed on his bed and throughout the bookshelves that were nailed on the wall were beginning to fall. The fragile glass objects fell to the ground and shattered, the fragments of glass still jumping as the apparent earthquake continued. Looking over to his mother, he was shocked to see her passed out on his bed. Next to her head was a piece of the ceiling, and the hole in the said ceiling revealed what had happened. Realization sunk in, and the shaking stopped.
It stopped completely.
How it stopped, he didn?t know. As for why it stopped, the situation wasn?t much clearer. All he knew was that the shaking stopped, and the potentially lethal situation ceased. He was out of danger, but his mother was bleeding pretty badly. Remy?s thoughts were cluttered, and he had no idea what he was to do. Suddenly, he remembered proper procedure, and he darted towards the nearest phone.
The ambulance came a good while later. Remy did his best to stop the blood from gushing out, but something in the pit of his stomach told him the harsh truth. Her neck was in an awkward position, and it might have been snapped. He tried his best to find a pulse, but after it was all said and done, he found none. Still, the na?ve college student held onto a shred of hope as he realized that he knew absolutely nothing about medicine.
However, the paramedics knew better. Her neck was broken indefinitely, along with Remy?s heart. Tears streaming down his face, he did the only thing he could think about doing. His mother?s practically dying wish was for him to start out fresh in America, and although he didn?t agree with it, it was what he had to do. He had the tickets stuffed in his pocket, so all he had to do was catch a ride to the airport. The fact that he forgot all of his possessions was in the back of his mind, and was something he didn?t think about until he was on the plane.
?Mother, this is for you. America, here I come.? He thought, closing his tired eyes as the inevitable darkness of sleep enveloped him.
Chapter 2: Charles? Field Trip
?99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer!?
A sharp nudge to Charles? side shut the loud adolescent?s mouth, if only temporarily. He frowned briefly and glanced over to the kid in the seat with him, Ryan.
?What was that for?? he asked, throwing his voice to make it sound saddened. ?You?ll hurt my feelings!?
He rubbed his eyes falsely, and Ryan chuckled briefly.
?You?re such a woman.?
Charles knew what he meant. That he didn?t take pain well?even though he was only faking. In his own opinion, Chuck thought that he took pain just fine. He glanced out the window, looking past Ryan. The road was going by slowly, meaning the bus driver wasn?t hauling ass to get to Chicago. That was ok though; bus rides were Charles? favorite part of a field trip.
Across the aisle, in the other seat, was Sara and Ashley. Their little clique, the four of them. Of course, Charles had lots of friends. Those were just his best ones. They were playing cards, actually. But it was nothing that Chuck had any interest in, at the moment.
He stood up briefly; glancing to make sure the teachers (sitting in the front of the bus) weren?t looking. They weren?t. He turned back, and peered over the back of his seat.
?Hey Andy, got your iPod with you?? he asked the kid, glancing him over to see if he could spot his iPod.
Andy Mosier was a tall lanky kid, with glasses. He liked to mimic the latest crazes and phrases, and he was pretty much a ?follower?.
Mosier reached into his backpack and pulled out the little techno-gadget. Charles took it.
?Thanks dude.?
He sat back down, and Ryan glanced over.
?Headphone me,? he stated simply, holding out his hand, palm flat up.
Charles complied, ?headphoning? him. But after a few minutes of non-stop rap, he ditched his earphone, giving Ryan the whole thing. The high-school student glanced around to spot someone interesting to talk to, but everyone was occupied. How dull.
All of a sudden, Charles let out a convulsive shiver. The shiver seemed to be going around, too, because students in every seat were doing it. Charles could even see his own breath. Why was it so cold all of a sudden? He breathed out a puff of icy air, and could see his own breath.
?Ryan, do you feel that??
He tapped his friend on the shoulder, and some frost sprung from his touch. Charles eyes grew wide, but luckily, Ryan didn?t notice it.
?Yeah, it?s cold. AC must be too high.?
He turned back to the window, but Charles was suspicious. But he pushed them to the back of his mind, as it suddenly grew warmer again. He must?ve been imagining things.
A few more hours to go until they reached Chicago, anyway. Charles brushed some of his brown hair out of his eyes, and kicked up his feet. Time for a nap.
Chapter 3:
Chapter 1: Remy, to America
?Remy, do you even know what you?re doing??
??not really.?
Remy sighed reclusively as he attempted to close his last suitcase. He was supposed to be moving to America for a brief amount of time; perhaps long enough to find out if the country was really worthy of the title that pegged them as the land of opportunity. However, despite this, he found himself packing bundles of meaningless stuff. For example, he packed every article of clothing that he owned, and even some that he didn?t, which he ?borrowed? from his father. In addition, he found that he had packed little items that he couldn?t possibly use, such as his high school track trophy.
Regardless, he was packing. How long he would be gone, he didn?t know, but he was indeed moving. His mother, though sad about her son?s departure, was practically prodding him in the side as he struggled to shut the clasp on the side of his last leather bag. She was such a ponderous woman, as she rarely showed how she really felt about things. When she did, however, the motives behind her so-called feelings were stupid at best, or at least they were to the French college student. Finally, after toiling like a Hebrew slave, he closed it was resounding snap.
?Is that everything?? Remy?s mother inquired, her eyes glazed over in apparent thought. Remy glared at her briefly, and quickly looked around.
?I don?t know. Did I forget to pack my anvil?? he replied, his almost snappy nature taking hold. His mother curled her lips into a slight smile at her son?s humorous response. However, despite whatever warmth her facial expression held towards the young man, the palm of her hand couldn?t have felt colder when it connected with his cheek. It was another witty remark, and another scratch on the side of his face.
?Do you have anything else to say?? she asked, her voice still in a joyous tone. Remy, however hurt he might have felt, couldn?t help but laugh. After all, he should have been used to this sort of mistreatment. Besides, after taking into consideration all the different quirks and chemical imbalances that his mother contained, he figured that he had received the lighter portion of her wrath. It was either that, or that last slap had knocked a few brain cells loose. Regardless, he wasn?t worrying about it.
?Actually?? he added, wincing slightly in preparation of another vicious attack, ?I?m kind of wondering what America could possibly offer that France doesn?t.?
?Are you kidding me?? she responded with a laugh, ?Haven?t you heard the stories? America is the land of the free, and the home of the brave.?
?I?m not interested in a clich?. I don?t know what I have in store for me, other than medicinal malpractice and a horrible crime rate.?
?Don?t forget pollution.?
?Mother?? Remy sighed, standing up to look outside of his bedroom window, ?Has it occurred to you that I could possibly be worried about this trip? Actually, don?t bother answering. I know it hasn?t.?
Remy?s mother scoffed. She always made that sound when she was struggling to find proper words, or when she had some sort of digestion problem. Despite the potential for a heart-warming scene, Remy couldn?t help but wonder which she was feeling. Such was the way of his entire life. After his father died, his mother sunk into a fit of depression. Since then, he hadn?t heard so much as an ?I love you? from the broken woman.
?Listen, Remy?? the woman said, her tone of voice suddenly more mellow. Not really sad, or even gentle, but more like if she had just taken a tranquilizer, ?I know you don?t really like me right now. And to be honest, I really don?t blame you. I?ve been a horrible mother lately.?
?Mother?? Remy interjected, trying to stop the speech that was about to ensue.
?No, hear me out. I know I?ve been a horrible mother lately, and I wanted to make it up to you. I know I won?t be able to take care of you for much longer.?
For the first time in his life, Remy didn?t say anything. It was weird enough that the woman hadn?t smashed his face in again, she didn?t have to get emotional on him.
?So I wanted to give you a better opportunity. I wanted you to see life, and I cannot see you living life to the fullest here.?
?Mother, you?re not telling me something.?
?How?how?s that? Have I ever held anything back before??
?No, you have a definite problem about that. However, I have never seen you stutter before. So?? Remy paused. He didn?t want to choke up, but he knew that something was definitely wrong. However funny this somewhat random situation had become, he couldn?t help but fear the worst, ?Why won?t you be able to take care of me for much longer??
?Haha?? the woman laughed bitterly, knowing that she was losing an uphill battle, ?Not much gets past you, son. Guess I must have done something right?okay. Remy, I?m dying.?
There it was.
Two horrible words.
?I?m dying.?
Pain and malice began welling up inside the French student?s chest. How could she possibly do something like this to him? After all that he had been through with her? Sure, he never quite agreed with her, nor did he appreciate the random outbursts that she constantly displayed.
It was ridiculous!
Suddenly, the room began to spin. He could feel himself shaking. He thought that he was just incredibly upset, but then it occurred to him that his suitcases were rattling as much as he was. The random objects that were placed on his bed and throughout the bookshelves that were nailed on the wall were beginning to fall. The fragile glass objects fell to the ground and shattered, the fragments of glass still jumping as the apparent earthquake continued. Looking over to his mother, he was shocked to see her passed out on his bed. Next to her head was a piece of the ceiling, and the hole in the said ceiling revealed what had happened. Realization sunk in, and the shaking stopped.
It stopped completely.
How it stopped, he didn?t know. As for why it stopped, the situation wasn?t much clearer. All he knew was that the shaking stopped, and the potentially lethal situation ceased. He was out of danger, but his mother was bleeding pretty badly. Remy?s thoughts were cluttered, and he had no idea what he was to do. Suddenly, he remembered proper procedure, and he darted towards the nearest phone.
***
The ambulance came a good while later. Remy did his best to stop the blood from gushing out, but something in the pit of his stomach told him the harsh truth. Her neck was in an awkward position, and it might have been snapped. He tried his best to find a pulse, but after it was all said and done, he found none. Still, the na?ve college student held onto a shred of hope as he realized that he knew absolutely nothing about medicine.
However, the paramedics knew better. Her neck was broken indefinitely, along with Remy?s heart. Tears streaming down his face, he did the only thing he could think about doing. His mother?s practically dying wish was for him to start out fresh in America, and although he didn?t agree with it, it was what he had to do. He had the tickets stuffed in his pocket, so all he had to do was catch a ride to the airport. The fact that he forgot all of his possessions was in the back of his mind, and was something he didn?t think about until he was on the plane.
?Mother, this is for you. America, here I come.? He thought, closing his tired eyes as the inevitable darkness of sleep enveloped him.
Chapter 2: Charles? Field Trip
?99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer!?
A sharp nudge to Charles? side shut the loud adolescent?s mouth, if only temporarily. He frowned briefly and glanced over to the kid in the seat with him, Ryan.
?What was that for?? he asked, throwing his voice to make it sound saddened. ?You?ll hurt my feelings!?
He rubbed his eyes falsely, and Ryan chuckled briefly.
?You?re such a woman.?
Charles knew what he meant. That he didn?t take pain well?even though he was only faking. In his own opinion, Chuck thought that he took pain just fine. He glanced out the window, looking past Ryan. The road was going by slowly, meaning the bus driver wasn?t hauling ass to get to Chicago. That was ok though; bus rides were Charles? favorite part of a field trip.
Across the aisle, in the other seat, was Sara and Ashley. Their little clique, the four of them. Of course, Charles had lots of friends. Those were just his best ones. They were playing cards, actually. But it was nothing that Chuck had any interest in, at the moment.
He stood up briefly; glancing to make sure the teachers (sitting in the front of the bus) weren?t looking. They weren?t. He turned back, and peered over the back of his seat.
?Hey Andy, got your iPod with you?? he asked the kid, glancing him over to see if he could spot his iPod.
Andy Mosier was a tall lanky kid, with glasses. He liked to mimic the latest crazes and phrases, and he was pretty much a ?follower?.
Mosier reached into his backpack and pulled out the little techno-gadget. Charles took it.
?Thanks dude.?
He sat back down, and Ryan glanced over.
?Headphone me,? he stated simply, holding out his hand, palm flat up.
Charles complied, ?headphoning? him. But after a few minutes of non-stop rap, he ditched his earphone, giving Ryan the whole thing. The high-school student glanced around to spot someone interesting to talk to, but everyone was occupied. How dull.
All of a sudden, Charles let out a convulsive shiver. The shiver seemed to be going around, too, because students in every seat were doing it. Charles could even see his own breath. Why was it so cold all of a sudden? He breathed out a puff of icy air, and could see his own breath.
?Ryan, do you feel that??
He tapped his friend on the shoulder, and some frost sprung from his touch. Charles eyes grew wide, but luckily, Ryan didn?t notice it.
?Yeah, it?s cold. AC must be too high.?
He turned back to the window, but Charles was suspicious. But he pushed them to the back of his mind, as it suddenly grew warmer again. He must?ve been imagining things.
A few more hours to go until they reached Chicago, anyway. Charles brushed some of his brown hair out of his eyes, and kicked up his feet. Time for a nap.
Chapter 3: