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Post by jamie levi on Aug 30, 2010 0:49:42 GMT
james levi;;
He was trying not to let it get to him – having so many disorders as a child had made it hard to go to new places. But this, he was going to have to get used to. Most likely, he would never go back to Liverpool, not after all the shit he put up in the few months before leaving. His life had just gone downhill. But he constantly told himself things would get better – a lot of people had it worse off. Even though he was pretty sure his life was pretty fucking bad. But things were getting better, and even though he didn’t know anyone here, he felt for once like he wasn’t totally alone in a room full of people. Looking around, he decided to actually go someplace – to explore. He randomly tossed on a pair of sandals, but then decided sneakers would be better.
He had walked by a beach, tearing up slightly as he passed it, but kept moving. Soon enough he could tell he was in the ‘bad’ part of the city. Fewer people, the buildings weren’t as new, more were run down, but it brought a smile to his face. All the ‘adventures’ he and Collin had gone on as children through their neighborhood – about half of them putting their well-being in danger – came to mind. The time they had played truth or dare in the old bakery – Collin had gotten serious food poisoning. Jamie snorted at the thought. The time they had gone on a hike to look for rape victims in the old warehouse – which they soon found out they really shouldn’t be joking about.
But out of all of it, he loved the Fields best. They weren’t just some random pasture. They were the strawberry fields. So many firsts happened there – only about half of them dodgy [and with his band-mates]. First strawberry when he was very little, first hike, first real walk on his own, hell, he met Collin there. He had his first drink there, his first acid trip, his first cigarette, his first alcohol poisoning, his first hangover – okay, so some of those sucked. But they all brought a smile to his face. He bit his lip, seriously craving an over-sized strawberry and a long walk with Collin.
James wasn’t very sure where to go. He just kept walking instead, looking around. Growing up in the bad part of town, it kind of made you stop and appreciate the fine art that goes into some wall tags. His family hadn’t been rich whatsoever – even calling them middleclass would be taking a long shot. But Collin’s family was the same way, almost exactly the same. Wonderful mothers, horrible drunks of fathers, dead sisters… the only difference was that Collin had a brother instead of a second sister.
Then, he saw the warehouse. He had heard the rumors, how it was haunted, about what had happened there, but he wasn’t afraid of ghosts. Of course he thought they were real, anything that wasn’t proven fake was real to him. But all the things that he had heard – he had seen his younger sister’s cut up, limp, lifeless form, her bloodied clothes on the bloodstained purple carpet. He had to hide the secret from his youngest sister of how Allison had pasted. He had seen his mother’s battered body knocking against the cliff shore, never to wake up. The images had burned into his mind forever, like a brand on an animal’s hide.
He walked over to the warehouse, seeing a stack of several tires and pulled one down. He plopped down into it, taking out his harmonica. He hadn’t played it at all since he moved here. His knees hugged into his chest, he shrilled along to one of his own songs on the harmonica, repeating it a few times before humming the chorus, then going back into the riff. Most people would be scared around these parts, but no – James was quite comfortable. He didn’t have a lot growing up. He only had his shabby clothes, his harmonica, and the saxophone he played in school, his guitar and the bass his father gave him. Most of it he had to work for and buy himself. He had three jobs at once one summer; two of them were made more bearable with Collin’s company. Keeping the harmonica at his lips but not playing anymore, he looked around, totally at ease.
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Post by timothy shane brooks !! on Aug 30, 2010 7:25:01 GMT
she says we've got to hold on to what we've got
it doesn't make a difference if we make it or not
we've got each other, and that's a lot for love
we'll give it a shot ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ [/color] I'm pretty sure the only thing that surprised me about this school, was that I didn't have to wear a hat with my uniform. I'm not kidding; before I moved here, I had been hearing rumors about it. Rumors that it was.. well, magical. Literally. They taught magic. I didn't tell my mom this, though. The thought sort of thrilled me, gave me chills up my spine.. made me want to come here to see if it was true or not. I don't remember where I heard these rumors; pretty sure I was searching for stuff about Curator Academy on Google, and found a site where they were talking about it, and about the rumor that it was magic. But now I'm positive it's true. Heck, the secretary told me about it.
I had been living here for about two days, this being my second day. My stuff was somewhat unpacked; meaning, I got my pillow and blanket out and took a nap the second I entered my dorm. It was only in the very early morning that I realized, 'Oh, hey, I have a roommate.' He was sleeping on his bunk, and I took that time to examine his stuff. It made me feel like a creeper, heh...
My hazel eyes were glazed over, staring at the slightly-ajar entrance, while I was deep in thought. I was sitting high atop a stack of crates, my legs folded criss-cross and my back against the wall. I had climbed up here, which was actually quite fun, but really not that easy. I'm a semi-good climber, though. I had brought Maya, my guitar, with me. I had also brought my new keyboard (which I haven't yet named) with me, but I was currently still tuning Maya. I hadn't got to play her for a couple days, what with the packing and then the long-ass plane trip.
One hand was holding Maya in place, while the other was lingering on the tuning keys, and I just.. stared off into space. I hate how I did that a lot. Thankfully I usually did that during class, so it wasn't like I was missing much. My shoulder twitched a little bit, as someone walked silently into the warehouse, and I could see them out of the corner of my eye, pulling a tire from a stack of them. They sat down, and I couldn't see what they did, but there was a startling noise, like a harmonica, but made louder because of how this room was made, and the noise echoed around. I jumped a little, my head snapping to the side to look at him.
Once again, my eyes sort of locked into place; but this time I was staring at the guy. He looked so.. familiar. But I just couldn't place my finger on what it was. Damn, this was irritating. Between the high-pitched shrill from his harmonica, which I winced at as it echoed and was projected throughout the warehouse, and this whole not-being-able-to-remember-who-this-guy-was thing. I hope he didn't notice that I was staring at him... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ [NOTES] 'm done with the post.~ ;D oh.. and timmy was never told that this place was haunted. xDDD
[WORDS] 518 words.
[MUSE] pretty darn good. but for some reason the post is.. short. ._.
[LYRICS] livin' on a prayer - bon jovi |
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Post by jamie levi on Aug 31, 2010 3:37:00 GMT
Just as James was about to close the gap between his mouth and the harmonica, but he sucked in air not too far from the harmonica, making a horrible squealing noise come out of the instrument. He would have played the riff, but he felt eyes burning into him. Figuring it was just another hallucination, he didn’t bother with it at first. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure. Usually his hallucinations were just a head, or hands, or arms. Quite often they were just feet. But no, this was a full figure. He turned his head, looking at the other boy quickly, half only to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.
Turning his head back, he looked down at the silver harmonica and shoved it in the tattered front pocket of his jeans, standing up and brushing himself off. He looked at his jeans, slipping a finger through the small hole. He needed to get new jeans. As soon as he made the money he would go shopping.
He walked over to the crates, running his fingers absently over his hand jewelry – his bracelets and ring. He was still recalling his times with Collin in the fields. He still remembered his first time getting drunk – that happened in those fields as well. He and Collin had smuggled far too much beer into the middle of the fields when they were fifteen and just drank. And, hell, they drank all of it. And that led to a night of laughing like idiots and chasing each other, screaming hardly-recognizable words to each other and realizing – Hey. I see why our dads love this so much. And all that drinking led to more drinking. Which led to vomiting. Which led to sleeping amongst the berries. Which led to a hell of a hangover in the morning. James smiled. The beer was good. The spending time with Collin was great. The hangover sucked.
He looked up from his hands, looking at the other boy. He grinned – always wanting to make a good first impression. That was mostly because once you got to know him he was pretty fucked up. "Hey." He said, then a bit more cautiously, he added, "Uhm. You don't have any issues with... gays do you?" Unintentionally, he made a bit of a 'ohmygosh i hope not' face, but he felt his nose slightly wrinkled at the fact that the boy may say yes. "Oh. Right. I'm James, by the way." He said, feeling a slight blush hit his cheeks.
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