shilowallace: (don't look back)
Shilo Wallace ([personal profile] shilowallace) wrote2012-02-13 02:40 pm
Entry tags:

[archive] charloft@lj: Tuesday 11.30.10

from the diary of Shilo Wallace
So STOP READING NOW...that means you, DAD. It's not like I can't tell when the LOCK has been broken!!!

Tell us about a time you teamed up with somebody to do something.

Once...well, actually, you know, really, it was two times. Can you say "twice upon a time"? Does that make any sense? I guess I've never really taken into consideration what "once upon a time" actually means, other than being the beginning of a fairy tale. Or something that's supposed to sound like a fairy tale, even if you're just kind of being silly or sarcastic or whatever. I guess what it's probably trying to say is "once, during this period of time"...right? Since it's always for a fairy tale, it's probably just implied that the "time" is some sort of legendary or fantastic or special time. But probably not always, since you're really allowed to use that to start off any kind of story, if you want. So, okay. It does make sense to say "twice" instead of "once". Because then it just means "two times, during this period of time", something happened. Which is what happened in my story.

Twice upon a time, I teamed up with someone to make a narrow, daring escape from certain danger!! I wanted to say "certain death", but I don't think death was all that certain, the first time, and the second time had nothing to do with death, at all. (Not mine, anyway.) But both times were really dangerous and probably could have ruined my whole life.

My first team escape attempt...it didn't work so well. At the time - and sometimes even still - I thought my partner-in-crime (although I certainly wouldn't have picked him, at the time, to be that, if I had been committing any real crime and, if he was considering me his partner in crime, well...he's crazier than I think) wasn't that at all. I kind of thought that he wanted to use me so he could get away, safe. I mean, I know he wanted to get away, safe, but...I know better, now. I don't think he really wanted it to be at my expense. I mean, he tried really hard to help me, even though it didn't really feel like it, then. Then, it just felt like showing off. It scared me so bad, at the time, I almost had a heart attack, but...I know when I thought of it later...when I think about it now? It was pretty cool. I mean, it was really cool. Can you imagine being that sure of yourself? That good at what you do? I watch him do it, all the time. He dances around the search lights like they're not even there. Without even looking at them!

I still don't know if meeting him out there was an accident or what, that night. I mean, as a grave-robber, it's not like it's, you know, weird for him to be in a graveyard or anything. For all I know, he was there, every night, just to work. Nothing to do with me. Or with me, specifically. That being said...it's a big cemetery. I guess he could have been anywhere, in it. But he wasn't, he was near my mom's crypt when I snuck out and, even if he hadn't planned to be, I know he already knew I was there, too. Maybe he heard me come out of the tunnels. Or maybe he didn't know until the crypt door creaked open, but he knew. He knew he'd have my attention and that we were going to be a team, that night. I guess I was probably so scared with the stupid thing I was doing that I didn't even know he was there until he threw that stupid body at me. Jerk. My stomach was already in my throat, by the time he stood up, too, and then he had to go and yell GRAVES!!! at the five or so GeneCops who wanted to, you know, kill us for tresspassing. Idiot, I thought. But he had smiled at me, when he stood up. He knew what he was doing.

I thought, then, that he just wanted to tell everyone where we were, so they would come get me while he got away, but that's not really it, at all. He wasn't just showing off because he's the kind of person who likes to show off (but he really is, sometimes), I think...I mean, I figured out, way after the fact because it made not even a little bit of sense at the time, he was proving himself to me. It was actually his way of getting me to trust him, his way of telling me that if I wanted to get out of this, I could go with him and I'd be safe because he knew how to get away, how to be safe. In the momet, I guess...it kind of worked. I mean, I didn't exactly cling to his side or anything, but when I couldn't get back in to Mom's tomb, it's not like I threw myself at the mercy of the GeneCops, either, or ran in the opposite direction. He said, "come," and I ran to him.

And, you know, the reason the whole thing failed is probably my own dumb fault. I was stupid and trusting (I'm still that), but I was also stupid and scared. My scared won out. If it hadn't been for that, if I hadn't felt my heart going so fast and my breathing get so shallow, I like to think that I probably would have just surrendered to him. Let him take me wherever, anywhere. But, nope. I was terrified of everything. Him, the cops, the dark, the dead bodies in the hole we'd climbed into, the idea of getting caught, the idea of getting killed, and - most of all - the idea of my dad finding out about everything. I wasn't thinking about anything else except how scared I was. I did what I always do, even still, when I'm stupid and scared. It's like I have this stupid setting I default to where all I can do is parrot things my dad used to tell me: I need to be home, I'm sick, I shouldn't be out, you shouldn't be here, blah, blah, blah. I hate that that's what I do, but it's just so automatic. Ugh. So I whined and rattled all that off and wouldn't just listen to him and watch him and go with him...so I got caught.

By the second time, though, I'd learned my lesson. It wasn't even a whole day later, the next time we teamed up, but my whole world had begun to change so dramatically, I'm surprised I didn't of NOS. Or some kind of overstimulation disorder. Anyway, seeing him a second time unraveled that much more of my world and, I guess, whatever fear or doubts I'd had about him (the biggest one, of course, though, being that he wasn't real...). Again, I still don't know if he came looking for me or found me by accident, but I know that he definitely didn't have to rescue me, when he did find me, if it was, in fact an accident. I told him I needed to get home because, while I might be trusting and naive, I also know when I'm in over my head.

We took the long way home and there were probably more than a few times that me, from the day before, would have freaked out (...like she had, the day before) and found a new way to get caught and hauled away. Instead, I promised - myself, at least - that I would, no matter what, this time, when he said, "Follow me." I know plenty of people who don't, now, but I like to stick to promises I make. So, I trusted him when...he...inferred, I guess, that the best way to get rid of an unwanted Amber is to...you know, obviously throw a bale of hay at her. (Maybe it confuses her as badly as it confused me, but to the point of paralyzation?)

Do you know how heavy bales of hay are, by the way? I didn't, at the time, but I just looked it up and the "small" bales? SIXTY TO ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY POUNDS. Does he have superhuman strength????

Sorry. Um. Okay, yeah. When we stopped to...well, do a little business, in the alley behind the support group's meeting hall? ...Yeah, that sucked, but even when it seemed like he was maybe throwing me to the dogs, he never didn't have it under control. He never wasn't protecting me, I don't think. So, this time, when we heard the sirens, I took his hand and I did what I promised I would. I wasn't even scared, that time. I just wanted to run. Hold his hand and run away, wherever he wanted to go, even if it wasn't anywhere near my home. But. Well, I told him that was where I'd wanted to go and, even though it seemed like we'd never get there by his route...we did. He kept his promise, too, even though it...wasn't what I wanted, anymore. Maybe if I'd told him that...I don't know. I just know that my heart kind of hurt when we ended up in the cemetery, by Mom's, and not in the way that meant I had an attack coming on.

...You know, actually, it's three times...upon a time. Thrice? Thrice upon a time. Because we teamed up, later that night, too...just, um. Well, I don't really like that story, as much. If my whole stupid life happened to be made up of a bunch of short stories? That one would have the worst ending and I'm so, so tired of stories that don't finish with "...And they lived happily ever after."

Post a comment in response:

From:
Anonymous( )Anonymous This account has disabled anonymous posting.
OpenID( )OpenID You can comment on this post while signed in with an account from many other sites, once you have confirmed your email address. Sign in using OpenID.
User
Account name:
Password:
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
Subject:
HTML doesn't work in the subject.

Message:

 
Notice: This account is set to log the IP addresses of everyone who comments.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.