Bren’s writing and movies blog

Because I have an opinion about creativity and know how to use it

Archive for November, 2008

Dreamers – Billy Grant

Posted by brenatevi on November 23, 2008

All Billy wanted in the world was to see Molly Casdon naked. He was fifteen, and unlike many other fifteen year olds in this day and age, he had no idea what to do once he got her naked, but he would cross that bridge if he ever got there. It didn’t stop him from day-dreaming about it. He did have an idea what she looked like under those clothes, ever since one of his uncles snuck him a Playboy.

It finally happened in algebra class. Billy was bored out of his mind, since he really hated math, and he found Mrs. Forest’s voice a droning metronome, ticking through his mind, and putting him on the boundary between awake and asleep. He’d been at this point many times before, taking in the math through osmosis, as his mind wondered through more pleasant pastures. Like seeing Molly naked.

Of course, he should have left those fertile fields for more, ahem, private settings, but he was particularly bored that day, and it did not help that he sat behind right behind her. Out of precocious self-control, he corralled the imaginings behind a fence so that they were just at the edges of his mind, where he could appreciate without giving it to the urge to take matters into hand. Ah, those soft shoulders, that beautiful neck…

Billy felt the world snap. Something happened between now and then, in a time and place he never knew about, and power flowed out of that when-where into his mind. The power homed right into his imagination, broke open the corral, and there she sat in her full glory.

There was a gasp from in front of him, and his attention from the reality within to the reality around him. He saw her naked shoulder, and it didn’t take him long to realize that the rest of her was naked also. She screamed and scrambled over the desks, streaking out of the room. He blushed, and crossed his legs, as everyone stared out the doorway the poor girl darted out of.

A moment later, he realized he heard her crying from inside his mind, as the teacher stared everyone in the classroom into silence, and then followed the girl out the door.

“It’s OK, Molly.”

“I swear I don’t know what happened,” Molly sobbed. “One moment I was listening to you, then…”

“I know. I’m sure I would have noticed you if you had walked in starkers.”

Molly laughed in that hysterical sort of way. “I don’t know what I’m going to do! I don’t know if I can call home. What would I tell them? ‘Hey Mom, my clothes disappeared while I was in algebra.’”

Billy felt shamed, but then it occurred to him that he shouldn’t be hearing this conversation at all. He knew that they were in the girl’s restroom down the hallway. He pushed his mind towards the source, and then he saw Mrs. Forest holding Molly close, the uncertainty wild in her eyes. He quickly shut down the image, pondering what it meant. Then he knew that he was the one that did this. He wasn’t sure how exactly he did it, but since he did it, maybe he could undo it.

He thought about what she had been wearing, every detail, and realized that they had been lying on the ground of his memory, next to the corral. He briefly thought about trying to dress her himself, but decided he had done enough damage that day (fortunate for him, because he lacked the control for such actions, which is what caused the problem in the first place.) Instead, he imagined them folded up next to her, where the teacher could see them. He heard a loud, “What the hell?!” in his mind and in reality, and he cut off the image, coming back to the reality of his desk.

Everyone in the classroom whispered and giggled as they sat and waited for Mrs. Forest to come back, pointing and laughing as they saw Molly walk past the classroom door.

“Oh God, what have I done?” Billy asked himself, closing off even the classroom from his mind. Yet, he could still feel the thoughtless malice pouring in from all sides, aimed at poor Molly, who would always be the target of whispers and back biting after this embarrassing event, which he somehow caused. He knew that he had to do something to fix this, to take responsibility for the clumsy, inadvertent harm.

“Class is dismissed,” Mrs. Forest’s voice cut through his mind like a scythe. “And if I hear anyone discussing this unfortunate accident with anyone else, they will pay a steep price for their indiscretion. And if someone brings it up, you will tell them the same thing. Does everyone understand me?”

Billy thought about those words, believed in those words, giving as much of himself as possible to those words. And his sacrifice of self gave those words power, enabling to bind all of those linked to the event, binding the words until the memories became hazy, and the event faded into obscurity. So Billy paid most of the consequences for his actions, but he was young, and he didn’t suffer much from it. The power linked to the words came back to him eventually. There was one last price to pay, and Billy waited impatiently for the end of school to pay it.

He had known where she had lived, as the bus had stopped in front of her house everyday. Of course, she wasn’t on the bus going home. The bus driver didn’t know that, so Billy got off the bus, the driver giving him a knowing wink. Billy swallowed, took in a deep breath, and knocked on the door. Mr. Casdon answered the door.

“Is Molly home?”

“She isn’t feeling well right now, can you come back later?”

“Could you pass a message to her? Could you tell her I’m sorry?”

“For what?”

“Just tell her that please? I’ll wait.”

He sat down on the porch, his mind walled off, not trusting any thoughts that passed through his mind; he had already done enough damage with idle thoughts. He heard the door open, and felt her eyes burn into his back. Gulping in a breath, he stood up and faced her.

“You know what happened to me?” she asked, staring at him intently, the anger right behind that implacable stare. She might have been humiliated and hurt, but she was definitely not cowed by those feelings.

“Yes, I think I did it.”

Her eyes went wide, and her emotions leapt out at him, smacking him as surely as if she had swung her hand. He staggered under the true weight of her pain, a moment of empathic vulnerability that tore through him like a thresher. He had understood that he caused great harm to her, but now he knew intimately how bad the damage was. He went to his knees, the tears coming unbidden.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing,” he repeated over and over.

Finally, she touched him gently, and the pain eased.

“So what happened?”

He quickly calmed, but was still chagrined. He really didn’t want to have to admit to this, but if there was ever a time to face the truth, now was the time. He stood up, her hand guiding him up. He finally looked in her pale blue eyes, and he let out one last breath, the tension easing out of his mind.

“Well, I’ve always had a crush on you, and I was bored out of my mind, and I kind of imagined you-“

“No way!” She exclaimed, laughter permeating her voice. “You couldn’t have, because that’s… well, that’s impossible!”

Then he repeated the conversation in the bathroom, and her eyes went wide.

“How? How could you have heard that?”

“I don’t know.”

“It isn’t the first time you’ve imagined me naked, is it?”

“No.”

“Well, however you did it, don’t do it again.”

A quick trip back into his mind, and he padlocked the corral with thick chains, and then melted the key. He wasn’t sure it was going to work, but what the hell? He didn’t have anything to lose at this point. He didn’t want to cause her pain like that again.

“I locked it off from my mind. I think.”

“You better be sure. But any ways, how can I show my face at school again? Your little trick will be the talk of the school. I’m never going to be able to go back without hearing the laughing and comments.”

“I think I took care of that too. Mrs. Forest threatened the class, and I put some force behind the threat. But if they do talk, you can beat me up. I’m the one that caused this mess.”

She cocked her head to the side and studied him.

“Do you know what else you can do with this power?”

“I don’t know. I’m kind of afraid to even test it now. I don’t know what damage I can do.”

“You’re no use,” she said teasingly, “although I might forgive you if you have my homework assignments.”

“I never thought you’d ask.”

*

ZOMG! Writing! I probably should have finished the Nightmares storyline, but I haven’t had the patience to do that, and since this the first longish piece in a long while (I did write a flash fiction, but I’m saving that for a different place, once someone decides to proofread it [wink, wink, nudge, nudge].)

This started out with what seems like a very silly idea, and then snowballs into something more serious. It’s part of a much larger world, that I’m slowly and laboriously trying to finish. If I could just stop turning gray every time someone impinges on my personal image, I might actually finish the damned thing after 10 years of off and on writing.

One last set of thoughts: some people build worlds and then people them. I don’t do that; a thought about circumstances, or a phrase, crosses my mind, and then the people in those circumstances react, and sometimes my interest in those people cross over a thousand words, then ten thousand words, and more, until lo and behold I have a world that I didn’t quite intend to make. And then other things happen in that world, and I’m left with a history I didn’t ask for (or, with Dreamworld, a history that didn’t happen.)

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doubt

Posted by brenatevi on November 9, 2008

I don’t know what to say
I don’t know what to do
When it comes to dealing with you
Every ounce of me screams
That you are a mistake
Waiting to happen
A bad idea waiting to be thought
I don’t trust the ground you walk on
I don’t trust the air you breath
Yet, there you are everywhere I go
A hairpin turn on every road
You won’t let up on the accelerator

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