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| Under The Radar; An old classic transformed | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Aug 16 2010, 10:34 AM (467 Views) | |
| Torrid | Aug 16 2010, 10:34 AM Post #1 |
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Hell is Here.
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Just... don't ask me, lol. It works. If you can get it (and your name's not Trin) before I get to the crucial parts, I'll give you a medal. ------------------------------------------------------- Winter 1769 The view over the dales and fields was simply stunning. Every morning, as dawn broke and the birds sang, this was what I would see. Father ran a farm at the top of the hill and this was where we lived. Just he and I. No-one would tell me what happened to dear mother. After all, as this story begins, I am only seven years old. 'He would never understand,' my Aunt Jennifer would say. 'he's such a small boy. How could he comprehend the loss of such a figure in his life?' Then she would weep. 'Children do not understand the true meaning of death...' One day, I woke up to work with Father in the barn, a Saturday and he was gone. On the pantry floor. Auntie was already there. Weeping. It was at that moment, I knew what was wrong. Death, it seemed, scared her. Of all the irony, it probably scared her to death. I was nine. An orphan. Aunt Jennifer left without trace. I waited days, maybe weeks, living off the food in the pantry for someone to take pity on the small boy that I was and take me in. One day, a man... the man who delivered bread and candles to make his pay, took me to his home and kept me. And this, as they say, is how the story begins. ------------------------------------------------------- The story is a famous one Now worshipped Now dismissed Rehearsed and trawled for meanings That may well not exist. The demon at the story's heart The cuckoo in the nest. He is so little of himself aware... |
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| Torrid | Aug 16 2010, 10:36 AM Post #2 |
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Hell is Here.
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From the day old Mr. Earnshaw brought me across the moors, a silent, frozen, lost child into the rich and affluent town next to the one I had previously lived, I tried to find my place in the community. The space reserved for me. Did they have a place in a community like this for a lonely soul like mine? Life early on was trying and jealousy ridden. The family that Mr. Earnshaw had brought me into, was a strange one indeed. I had 'new brothers'. One who may well have been my father's age before his passing and one of approximately my age. The older one was like no beast I had ever encountered. He looked like father often did after a fair few tankards of ale with his fellow tradesmen in the barn. He looked terribly unkempt. Displeasing to the eye and harsh. The younger one however, so very much the opposite of his older brother. Soft, graceful and -dare I say- easy on the eye. I'll never forget the first day I walked through the town with my 'father', as he insisted I call him. Being bathed in fire would have been kinder. |
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| Torrid | Aug 16 2010, 10:36 AM Post #3 |
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Hell is Here.
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We walked through the town, myself tucked under Mr. Earnshaw's oversized, corduroy coat smothered arm, like he was parading me. Like a prize for the world to bare witness. I was still dressed in the clothes in which he had found me. The ones I'd worn for weeks. I must have stunk to high heaven. My nose had become accustomed to how I smelled. I couldn't tell just how bad. If I cared, I may have felt ashamed. At that moment, I was thankful that someone cared enough to have me. My long, dirty, fair hair was falling around my face. I shook my head. Though I had bugs all over me. He walked me to the centre of the town square, where I first laid eyes on my older brother to be. He wreaked of the words 'fear and loathing'. I quickly averted my eyes and searched the square for a friendly face. As I looked around, I saw a boy, throwing stones from the steps at the front of a house. The other townspeople regarded my form with disgust. I heard laughter Mr. Earnshaw walked me closer still towards the large, imposing statue before me. Father clapped me on the shoulder and grinned wide. “Here is your Christmas gift.” he announced, maybe a little too loudly. The boy I found not a moment earlier ran towards us. A pure smile painted on his porcelain face. “A gift from God, Kirk.” Father continued. Kirk. His name rolled in my mind. Was this my other brother? The first thing that I thought of was his dark eyes raking me over in wonder. The second was 'a gift?'. He'd picked me up as a gift to his sons? “Though it's as dark as The Devil, boys--” a sure reference to my current state of hygiene. “Call it... James.” |
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| Torrid | Aug 16 2010, 10:49 AM Post #4 |
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Hell is Here.
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“Ja-James.” a sweet voice escaped his mouth, just before he launched his tiny self towards me, arms wound around my back like a workman's vice. So tight. He stepped back and grinned happily. “David,” an empty glare fell from my older brother David's eyes as father spoke to him. “he's your brother now.” At that, my new brother stormed away without care or sign. Well, there was a sign and an aura but, alas. No reply. “I took him from what appeared to be his former home” he explained. “Alone, cold and wearing but, the clothes on his back. Barefoot. Abandoned. I couldn't help bringing him here.” he ruffled my hair and smiled. “You will accept him won't you?” “He looks like a rat that's been cast from a gutter, Father.” “David,” “Why would you do this?!” he grunted, looking me over. “He's filthy. Dirty. One extra mouth to feed. We can barely afford to keep us-selves any more on the wages we get!” “He's just a boy!” Father growled sternly. “Right and so was I once!” “I could not leave him alone.” The noise, the arguing was starting to hurt my ears. I'd never heard racket like it. Did this always happen here? Father and I lived so peacefully before. I felt a tugging on my sleeve and looked in the direction it came from. Little Kirk was trying his hardest to catch my attention. The same smile plastered across his features. “C-come. With me. To the house.” he coughed a little, covering his mouth. “Uhm, please, brother?” I nodded slowly. Before I knew it, he was dragging me quickly behind him, my bare feet catching the rough cobblestones. He dashed into the house, carefully pushing the door open. An older lady greeted us. She regarded me oddly but, warmly with a smile. “Uhm, Mrs. Leggett... this is J-James.” Kirk beamed, still clutching my forearm. “Father brought him.” “Ah!” she smiled. “So the fuss was over you, my boy. Uh, Kirk, dear. Take James and sit him near the fireplace to warm up and, uh, get him some clean clothes.” “Yes Mrs. Leggett.” he bounced. “Come on.” He sat me near the fire at the back of the house where a tub lay. Oh lords above. A bath. He brought me here for a bath and a change of clothes. “Mrs. Leggett is Father's fare.” he grinned cheekily. “She keeps him living. David and I also. You too if you'll let her.” he finally let go of my arm and gasped. “Do you... you uh, speak?” he chuckled. “Yes.” I replied nervously. “Good.” he grinned. “Blue or Green?” “Excuse me?” my empty gaze had him puzzled. “Do you like blue or green... uh more?” “Oh.” I gasped. “Green. Like the trees.” He smiled and nodded eagerly, rushing away to get me some clothes. Mrs. Leggett entered the room and smiled at me. “Come on, dear. No need to be shy. Let's get you bathed and changed.” |
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| Torrid | Aug 16 2010, 12:10 PM Post #5 |
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Hell is Here.
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Later in the day, Kirk and I were playing hide and seek in the square, much to the displeasure of onlookers. Their displeasure of course was directed at me. After a few games that Kirk had won, we sat back on the greenery in the centre of the town. It was the most fun I think I'd maybe ever had. A few hours more play and Father called us. “Come on boys, Dinner's ready for us.” “Yes, Father.” Kirk replied in kind. We stood up and ran towards the house, Kirk had my arm again. We came to a halt and before I could come to a full stop, I was face first on the ground. “Stay away from my little brother, you abandoned scum!” my assailant howled from above me. Kirk had backed away when I looked up. The next thing I saw was Father grabbing Brother David by the hair and hurling him to the ground. “Damn you! Leave him be!” he roared. Father lifted me up from the cobbles and hugged me too him, groaning in pain with his stomach. He was ageing after all. “It's okay son.” He muttered. “He'll come to like you.” He walked me back into the house, Kirk in quick tow. Father slammed the door in David's face. For the next few minutes, I heard fists pound on the wood of the door. The iron handle clicking. Peace at last. |
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| Torrid | Aug 17 2010, 02:03 AM Post #6 |
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Hell is Here.
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Harvest 1776 Having worked the fields with David for four years, I had come to almost understand his spats of anger. I also knew when I might expect to have a hammer thrown at me. Not to me. We didn't fight so much and he didn't cast me down to the floor like a used wash rag like he... he used to. He still hated my guts. You could see it in his eyes. He never hid his feelings towards me. Nor Kirk. Nor Father. Not even Dear Mrs. Leggett. He hated working the fields but, what had to be done... had to be done. Kirk never worked. He spent the majority of his time either socialising or working on his education. I'd brought father to watch us tow the fields like he used to when he was in good health. He was ailing now. Walking with a cane. Seating himself slowly. He sat down on a hay bale and watched his sons work. All was well until I saw the condition of my poor horse's hooves. Worked down to rub. No new shoes had been put on the poor beast. I'd seen David use him to tow his plough across the field the other day. It had to be him. Kirk was sat with father. Talking to him idly. He grinned that beautiful grin that he had. That genuine smile. My apologies if I am to remove said smile. “Give me your horse!” I barked at David as I saw him approach. He shoved me back, putting me off my balance. I straightened up and lunged right back. “And if you won't, I shall tell father of the thrashings you gave me last week! And I'll show him my arm which is black to the shoulder!” I rolled my sleeve back up my arm and he grabbed hold of it, wrenching it around and up my back. I tried to fight back. “Get off, Dog!” he yelled as he pushed me to the floor. Again. “And I'll tell him how you hope that he dies good and soon so you can have all he owns!” “Fine, take my colt then, boy.” He stuck his boot in my chest, under my arm. “Take him and be damned! Imp of Satan!” he chided, kicking my back. “Would you take my house? Would you take my land? Well take that!” he growled with another kick. I saw swift movement and then felt hands on my arms. “Oh lord, are you okay?” “I'm fine, Kirk.” I told him what he wanted to hear with a grimace. He helped me up and hugged me to him. He was always so warm and kind to me. Why couldn't Dave be more like him? His red hair was as fiery as his temper. Kirk smiled and grabbed my arm with a pretty smile. “Take my colt then boy!” he mocked Dave with a smile in his voice. He pushed me lightly away. “Take my house, take my land...” I chuckled at his actions and broke into a broad grin when he pushed lightly down on my upper back and giggled. “On your knees, dog!” I started to crawl and nestle my head against his legs. “You're worse than your brother!” Father spoke from out of nowhere. “Oh, it's only a game father.” Kirk lamented. “Why can't you always been a good lad, Kirk?” “And why can't you always be a good man, Father?” he added sarcastically. The action I saw next shocked me to my core. Father raised his hand to Kirk and struck him. Right across his face. He fell to the floor. Father never hit Kirk. Ever. “Damn you!” he clutched his own chest and fell to his knees. “Father!” I ran over to help him and he grabbed my arm, pulling me down with him. “Father, answer me. Father?!” I pressed my ear to his lips and nothing. He was gone. I crawled over to where Kirk was still laying on the ground in shock. I clung to him. Hugging him first instead of the other way round. He was crying and shaking with two types of shock. First, Father hit him. Second, Father's dead. I comforted him as he was carried away by doctors, crying with him. Dave walked over, grinning smugly from crooked ear to crooked ear. He shoved my arm and smirked. “Hey lovey doveys! This town, is mine now!” he grabbed me off the floor and pushed me away from him. Like a dog. “So, why don't you go back to the kitchens like the other servants or go earn your keep in the fields like the other hands!” he shoved me again. “Am I to be your servant too?” Kirk wailed. Tears streaking his face as he stood. He lunged at Kirk with his hand balled as Kirk backed away. He grabbed his jacket and grinned evilly. “You'll have your share of my hand, dear Kirk.” Dave smugly walked past Kirk without a second look. “If I see you before supper, I won't be held responsible for my actions.” Kirk sat on the wall and cried. Whispering curses of his older brother under his breath. “Slave driving bastard.” when he saw me return from the kitchen, he raced towards me with a grin. “Where shall we go?” he bounced eagerly. “There's so much of this place that we've never been to together.” We ran the wild, rocky, treacherous road across the hills. Just spending time alone with him was a thrill. He was so intriguing. Together, we sat at the top of the highest hill in range of home and watched the sun setting before us. Braving the moors' ghosts. Ghosts of the town that lay at our feet. “I'll get Dave back for what he's done to me. He's no better a man than I.” I growled softly. I felt Kirk's hand wind nervously into mine and hold it tight. “But I hope he won't die before I get my revenge.” “Learn to forgive, My James.” he whispered stroking his thumb across the back of my hand. “It's for God to punish wicked people.” “God shan't have the satisfaction I shall have once I'm done with that scumbag.” I shrugged slightly away from the death grip Kirk had on my hand. Silence fell between us momentarily. That was until heard the sound of his one true weakness. Music. “They're playing music and dancing in the Grange!” he cooed enthusiastically. “Come on, it'll be fun.” he ran his hand through my hair. “Especially after the day you've had.” |
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| olyamet | Aug 17 2010, 02:33 AM Post #7 |
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Let's Dance
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No medal for me... I like it!!! That bastard Dave! Poor James and Kirk....aawww....poor babies! Wonder what happens next.
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