Indea- The Gazebo (working title).
Nov 28, 2013 17:35:08 GMT -8
Post by ∆§Indea§∆ on Nov 28, 2013 17:35:08 GMT -8
(Last post modified from the red)
*** ***
James sat in the gazebo listening to the groans and creeks of the timber in the wind, leaves swirling around his feet. He closed his eyes becoming lost in the moment, enjoying the caresses of the wind against his cheek. He'd pushed past the police tape that had been furling in the wind, hitting against itself as it tried to keep a hold of it's posts. He laid back on one of the benches imagining himself to be some kind of corpse, cameras flashing and his mother sobbing on one corner. Everything in his life at one great end, he shivered opening his eyes to the world once more. He didn't have it in him for that kind of action and macabre thoughts would have to suffice. The gazebo seemed to be groaning even louder, like it was stretching, it was strange because the wind hadn't picked up at all. James tried blocking out all the drama he had run from, he just wanted to get away and the gazebo had seemed like the perfect haven to do it. Flashes of yelling and sad eyes still pushing their way through. Why could life throw him some kind of break once in a while? He sighed heavily with the gazebo, their breaths almost in synch. He felt short vibrations in his pocket and took out his phone. It was his mum telling him to come home right now, they needed to talk. He sat up considering his options, should he face the music or left the wind brush past him for a moment longer? He got up, scratching his head then looking back down at the message. Soft rain began to drift down on the gazebo and he took it as a sign. He went back to his bench and just listened to the soft pitter patter.
..Come on fallen star I refuse to let you die...
….I've been waiting far too long...
...be mine...
James's ears twitched, had his phone been switched on by accident? He felt in his pocket for it, fishing it out in his tangled earphone but it was blank. He sat up looking around for a sign of somebody nearby, nothing, he was alone. How odd. He sighed again, must be hearing things.
...last goodbyes...
...Be mine...
*** ***
Craig Kennedy wasn't much of a man, in fact in all honesty he wasn't much of anything. He drifted through his life without achieving anything past the bare minimum, it was only his strange looks that made people think he was interesting but in all honesty, the only strange thing about him was that he wasn't strange at all. All his mystery came from his uncontrollable hair and odd coloured eyes and the wide smile he constantly used to fit in.The stories told about him painted him in wild colours. Each stretching a little bit further from the truth. He lived by himself in a rundown old house with tires out the front. How they'd ended up there, he couldn't say but it stopped nosey people from busting in so it was worth it.He wasn't ignored in life but people always gave him the bare minimum, a nod, a short hello, a careless “how are you?”. On weekends he would wander aimlessly, feed pigeons and other birds in the park. The birds didn't think he was strange, they didn't care if his hair was a mess as long as he brought the bread crumbs and his long limbs to land on. He felt peaceful in the park and often ate his sandwiches under the blue gazebo. People would wave or stare but hurry by without much notice. Occasionally little kids would help him feed the birds, chattering away until their parents hurried them off to other things. Craig only had time for animals and children because they were the only ones who gave time to him. He go home alone fix himself a meal and eat it, listening to the Beatles. He a had a small TV he'd brought on a whim but the scattered black and white images just weren't the same as the cinema. So it just sat there like some small blockheaded beast on flimsy legs. He enjoyed his solitude but sometimes he'd put on the radio and pretend the voices were inside his home, talking, enjoying having time with him. Or he'd read, enjoying the characters that filled the spaces of his mind. He had some relatives that lived out of state which he saw every christmas and his mum would call him every week from the nursing home. He'd visit her every weekend making up funny stories to delight and amuse her. He lived for her deep throated chuckle and the soggy nursing home meals they'd share together.
It was a Tuesday when it began to happen, creeping images of strange creatures moved within his dreams. Speaking to him with the lyrics of the Beatles or whatever song he'd listened to the night before until he stopped putting on the old record player altogether in fear. He even began to watch TV instead but the creature just stole words from there instead. It was a Sunday when he first observed the couple, it was cute they were smiling and laughing at unheard jokes. Then out of nowhere Craig watched as the man leant down to kiss her and they disappeared. Completely. Craig checked for any loose floorboards, any secret trap door but there were none. There just wasn't anything left of them. Gone. He told his mother about it for what little good it would do and she just smiled and told him it was probably ghosts. They ate slimy potato salad and talked about other things. Innocuous things that made his mother smile.
Still the creatures haunted his mind and more people began to disappear without explanation. Just enough to rouse an already suspicious mind but not enough that people would suspect an inanimate object like a gazebo. Well, Craig knew nobody would ever suspect a gazebo. It was madness really. He spent far too many days just starring at the gazebo daring it to steal another person away in front of his eyes, maybe this time he could stop it. He was barely controlling to urge to rave and yell at people as they passed, warning them of the danger. That's when the bird man finally made his appearance, winking in and out of the gazebos beams, watching him right back. It's thin human lips smiling very slightly as a breeze knocked Craig's hat from his head. He ran to the gazebo, only to find it empty as ever.
That night his dreams became more graphic, he felt deep hooks in arms as the birdman tried to wrap him up in it's arms like it was slowly digesting him. Singing the lyrics to 'I want to hold your hand' the entire time in eery accuracy. Mere minutes passed by but Craig felt himself slowly draining away. Just when he'd lost hope a deep wailing filled the house and water came crashing down on him before he was swept up into the arms of a fireman. He'd left the damn iron on again. The damage to his house was extensive but nothing that needed any major work. He spent days cleaning the soot off and dumping anything that was too far gone to save. It was a depressing business, some things he just couldn't afford to replace. The damn TV had somehow survived and he seriously considered selling it. However, his record player was a melted mess. Murphy's law had fucked him over. He was pretty sure the fire had saved his life though as strange as it seemed. Part of him felt that the gazebo was to blame and it wouldn't go away. It just sat inside him like a stale odour on his tongue. He went to the supermarket and brought as much coffee as he could afford, he wasn't ever sleeping again. He just hoped that would do the trick.
He hoped to shut the dreamworld out but it just followed him back into reality, the hooks began to tear at real flesh but the singing began to crackle at the edges like a radio on the wrong settings. His face became covered in little cuts like he forgotten to shave but it was nothing compared to his chest but he could cover that in clothing. Every part of him stung until he couldn't take anymore, his whole skin was itching all over and he scratched setting his skin on fire and creating even deeper cuts. This all seemed to alarm the bird man, who retreated with sad eyes. A glint of disappointment. Craig spent two days like this until staring at his burnt blackened roof, he was hit with an idea. He headed out in the early hours, a heavy litre of petrol and a box of matches. The fire licked and bit at the structure until it started to crumble and Craig felt a deep satisfaction. A sense of relief filled him up until his face broke into its rare genuine smile. Later sirens came and people rushed out but it was far too late.
Craig returned home with a skip in his step and opened the door with relish. That was until he went to the bedroom and found a visitor waiting on his bed looking more than a little singed. Tears were running down it's face in cascades and it moaned sorrowfully at him. Whining like a dog. Despair made a home inside Craig and felt himself weeping alongside the beast. He was lost.
The gazebo remained a burnt pile of ash for several weeks until a kindly women's association ran a charity fund to restore the structure to it's former glory. They even used a few pieces of wood found still intact from the old one in the construction. They had a big ceremony and a small crowd turned out as the women smiled and had their picture taken for the local paper.
In a moment of kindness and nostalgia they placed a small plaque on one side in dedication to Craig Kennedy, who had loved the gazebo before his untimely death.
*** ***
*** ***
James sat in the gazebo listening to the groans and creeks of the timber in the wind, leaves swirling around his feet. He closed his eyes becoming lost in the moment, enjoying the caresses of the wind against his cheek. He'd pushed past the police tape that had been furling in the wind, hitting against itself as it tried to keep a hold of it's posts. He laid back on one of the benches imagining himself to be some kind of corpse, cameras flashing and his mother sobbing on one corner. Everything in his life at one great end, he shivered opening his eyes to the world once more. He didn't have it in him for that kind of action and macabre thoughts would have to suffice. The gazebo seemed to be groaning even louder, like it was stretching, it was strange because the wind hadn't picked up at all. James tried blocking out all the drama he had run from, he just wanted to get away and the gazebo had seemed like the perfect haven to do it. Flashes of yelling and sad eyes still pushing their way through. Why could life throw him some kind of break once in a while? He sighed heavily with the gazebo, their breaths almost in synch. He felt short vibrations in his pocket and took out his phone. It was his mum telling him to come home right now, they needed to talk. He sat up considering his options, should he face the music or left the wind brush past him for a moment longer? He got up, scratching his head then looking back down at the message. Soft rain began to drift down on the gazebo and he took it as a sign. He went back to his bench and just listened to the soft pitter patter.
..Come on fallen star I refuse to let you die...
….I've been waiting far too long...
...be mine...
James's ears twitched, had his phone been switched on by accident? He felt in his pocket for it, fishing it out in his tangled earphone but it was blank. He sat up looking around for a sign of somebody nearby, nothing, he was alone. How odd. He sighed again, must be hearing things.
...last goodbyes...
...Be mine...
*** ***
Craig Kennedy wasn't much of a man, in fact in all honesty he wasn't much of anything. He drifted through his life without achieving anything past the bare minimum, it was only his strange looks that made people think he was interesting but in all honesty, the only strange thing about him was that he wasn't strange at all. All his mystery came from his uncontrollable hair and odd coloured eyes and the wide smile he constantly used to fit in.The stories told about him painted him in wild colours. Each stretching a little bit further from the truth. He lived by himself in a rundown old house with tires out the front. How they'd ended up there, he couldn't say but it stopped nosey people from busting in so it was worth it.He wasn't ignored in life but people always gave him the bare minimum, a nod, a short hello, a careless “how are you?”. On weekends he would wander aimlessly, feed pigeons and other birds in the park. The birds didn't think he was strange, they didn't care if his hair was a mess as long as he brought the bread crumbs and his long limbs to land on. He felt peaceful in the park and often ate his sandwiches under the blue gazebo. People would wave or stare but hurry by without much notice. Occasionally little kids would help him feed the birds, chattering away until their parents hurried them off to other things. Craig only had time for animals and children because they were the only ones who gave time to him. He go home alone fix himself a meal and eat it, listening to the Beatles. He a had a small TV he'd brought on a whim but the scattered black and white images just weren't the same as the cinema. So it just sat there like some small blockheaded beast on flimsy legs. He enjoyed his solitude but sometimes he'd put on the radio and pretend the voices were inside his home, talking, enjoying having time with him. Or he'd read, enjoying the characters that filled the spaces of his mind. He had some relatives that lived out of state which he saw every christmas and his mum would call him every week from the nursing home. He'd visit her every weekend making up funny stories to delight and amuse her. He lived for her deep throated chuckle and the soggy nursing home meals they'd share together.
It was a Tuesday when it began to happen, creeping images of strange creatures moved within his dreams. Speaking to him with the lyrics of the Beatles or whatever song he'd listened to the night before until he stopped putting on the old record player altogether in fear. He even began to watch TV instead but the creature just stole words from there instead. It was a Sunday when he first observed the couple, it was cute they were smiling and laughing at unheard jokes. Then out of nowhere Craig watched as the man leant down to kiss her and they disappeared. Completely. Craig checked for any loose floorboards, any secret trap door but there were none. There just wasn't anything left of them. Gone. He told his mother about it for what little good it would do and she just smiled and told him it was probably ghosts. They ate slimy potato salad and talked about other things. Innocuous things that made his mother smile.
Still the creatures haunted his mind and more people began to disappear without explanation. Just enough to rouse an already suspicious mind but not enough that people would suspect an inanimate object like a gazebo. Well, Craig knew nobody would ever suspect a gazebo. It was madness really. He spent far too many days just starring at the gazebo daring it to steal another person away in front of his eyes, maybe this time he could stop it. He was barely controlling to urge to rave and yell at people as they passed, warning them of the danger. That's when the bird man finally made his appearance, winking in and out of the gazebos beams, watching him right back. It's thin human lips smiling very slightly as a breeze knocked Craig's hat from his head. He ran to the gazebo, only to find it empty as ever.
That night his dreams became more graphic, he felt deep hooks in arms as the birdman tried to wrap him up in it's arms like it was slowly digesting him. Singing the lyrics to 'I want to hold your hand' the entire time in eery accuracy. Mere minutes passed by but Craig felt himself slowly draining away. Just when he'd lost hope a deep wailing filled the house and water came crashing down on him before he was swept up into the arms of a fireman. He'd left the damn iron on again. The damage to his house was extensive but nothing that needed any major work. He spent days cleaning the soot off and dumping anything that was too far gone to save. It was a depressing business, some things he just couldn't afford to replace. The damn TV had somehow survived and he seriously considered selling it. However, his record player was a melted mess. Murphy's law had fucked him over. He was pretty sure the fire had saved his life though as strange as it seemed. Part of him felt that the gazebo was to blame and it wouldn't go away. It just sat inside him like a stale odour on his tongue. He went to the supermarket and brought as much coffee as he could afford, he wasn't ever sleeping again. He just hoped that would do the trick.
He hoped to shut the dreamworld out but it just followed him back into reality, the hooks began to tear at real flesh but the singing began to crackle at the edges like a radio on the wrong settings. His face became covered in little cuts like he forgotten to shave but it was nothing compared to his chest but he could cover that in clothing. Every part of him stung until he couldn't take anymore, his whole skin was itching all over and he scratched setting his skin on fire and creating even deeper cuts. This all seemed to alarm the bird man, who retreated with sad eyes. A glint of disappointment. Craig spent two days like this until staring at his burnt blackened roof, he was hit with an idea. He headed out in the early hours, a heavy litre of petrol and a box of matches. The fire licked and bit at the structure until it started to crumble and Craig felt a deep satisfaction. A sense of relief filled him up until his face broke into its rare genuine smile. Later sirens came and people rushed out but it was far too late.
Craig returned home with a skip in his step and opened the door with relish. That was until he went to the bedroom and found a visitor waiting on his bed looking more than a little singed. Tears were running down it's face in cascades and it moaned sorrowfully at him. Whining like a dog. Despair made a home inside Craig and felt himself weeping alongside the beast. He was lost.
The gazebo remained a burnt pile of ash for several weeks until a kindly women's association ran a charity fund to restore the structure to it's former glory. They even used a few pieces of wood found still intact from the old one in the construction. They had a big ceremony and a small crowd turned out as the women smiled and had their picture taken for the local paper.
In a moment of kindness and nostalgia they placed a small plaque on one side in dedication to Craig Kennedy, who had loved the gazebo before his untimely death.
*** ***