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Nachdem mir die Forumssuche sagte, diese Story gäbe es hier noch nicht, hab ich mir vorgenommen das zu ändern.
Eine furchtbar alberne Liebesgeschichte in drei Teilen und in englischer Sprache, die ich über 1,5 Jahre hinweg immer mal wieder aus verschiedenster Motivation heraus weitergeschrieben hab', und die wie die meisten meiner Werke unvollendet in der Gegend herumhängt. Keine bösen Inhalte drin, nur ein wenig Dummheit. Viel Spaß. Und sagt ruhig ob es euch gefallen hat.
(Und wegen der Zeit die darin steckt besteht durchaus ein qualitativer Unterschied zwischen Anfang und Ende.. ich konnte gegen Ende einfach besser schreiben als vorher^^)
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Chapter I - everything sucks
There's a Ska-band on my street... a little ska-band and everybody thinks they are so fuckin' neat... there was nothing on the radio so I made my own band make my own show and that didn't work so I'm giving again...
She smiled while she was busy killing things in a CRPG. Once in a while she paused to sing along to the song which was coming gently from her downtuned stereo. It was not because of the killing, she told herself, but because of the song that she was smiling. And maybe that was the case. It was a light, upbeat kind of song with easy going chords and jolly horns; ska in fact. And the knowledge that it was probably bad taste to listen to ska while brutally slaughtering things in a computer game made her even more cheerful. But then the doorbell rang, interrupting this period of pleasure.
On her way down the stairs and into the hallway she shot a glance at a mirror, slightly hidden on a rack, checking that she looked passably human. And she still looked the part although she didn't feel actually human. Her system felt shaken to he core, the whole thing, heartbeat irregulary and the vision blurry at the edges. Damn it. She frowned and then sighed inwardly as she opened the door. It was the local reverend and he looked pleased. That meant bad news for any atheist who hid in these remote parts of the country.
"Good evening Chris. I'd like to ask you something. May I come in, child?"
She didn't roll her eyes, although she was nearly seventeen now. There was no use in fighting back.
"Of course, father" she replied and let him in.
There's always darkness if you are looking for it. The sky was cloudy but friendly, but for her it was the sheer coldness of a polished metal wall. The wind blew not too harsh, but she felt tormented and as she stumbled on her way through the quite lush forest, the ground hit her frozen and hard. It was still winter, so it was quite silent, but she thought she could hear the dark whisperings of her own thoughts between the otherwise quite dark and gloomy trees. There's always that amount of darkness that you allow to exist. If your heart is twisted and your thoughts spiral downwards, it's dark around you as well. She knew all that, somewhere in her distracted mind, but she did not care. After all, what could she do? It wasn't her fault, was it? Of course it wasn't. Had never been... right?
She interrupted that line of thought because she had reached the church. It was, come to think of it, really amazing that no somehow crazed youth had burned it down, given its remote location. Anyway...
She pushed the large oak doors open and was greeted with the atmosphere she had learned to loath deeply. There was no one it, of course, or at least no one to be seen. She let out a small sigh, rolled her eyes and spoke.
"I know you are here somewhere. I've neither any idea who you are or why you are here and certainly don't intend to come for you. The regulars, however, will if the reverend tells them what you are doing here. And you can believe me, they will be nice. Really damn nice and I expect that's the last thing you want from any Christian, right?"
Quite a speech, she thought. There was silence while whoever was in there considered this.
"You are right" a male voice said. "Will you talk to me then, without being nice?"
She grinned slightly, aware of her own misery, lurking behind the sudden feeling of responsibility.
"That at least, I can promise"
““Alright”
“So, where are you?”
“Take the left staircase to the clock tower and use the formerly sealed door on the 3rd floor.”
Great, first I’d to walk through that damn dark forest and now I’ve got to climb stairs, she thought.
The narrow staircase was as dark as the rest of the church and very dusty. Chris had one hand pressed against the wall for support. Slipping would have been a really bad thing.
The said door was indeed there, almost invisible in the gloom. It seemed amazingly heavy and locked, but it opened smoothly when she pushed it.
There was another room full of darkness beyond the treshold, but a tiny strip of light was visible suggesting another door.
Chris trudged on carefully, her smile fading away with every step.
This better be something interesting or I'll be annoyed...
The second door revealed another staircase but this time illuminated by a light source outside her view. There was even more dust here but there were tracks. Chris felt kind of silly but had the grim determination not to be deterred.
Another platform, another door. This had to be somewhere between the clock tower... and the roof? No matter, she decided and opened the door.
"Found me, eh?"
Since the priest had left her some thirty minutes ago she rolled her eyes in a very demonstrative kind of way and fixed her eyes on the guy.
He was not tall, but taller than she anyway, although it was hard to tell since he was sitting on the floor his back against... a banister. It was a damn balcony hidden in the shadows of the main part of the city.
He looked... odd. Familiar, although she was a hundred per cent sure she had no idea who he was. Maybe it was because of the clothes, or the look on his face, one that she knew to well from mirrors.
He returned her stare blankly and then smiled without moving his eyes.
"So, they've send you then?" he asked.
"Just the priest"
"And what is your mission, Joan?"
It was a pathetic crack and he surely new it. Joan of Arc possibly avoided the church whenever she could because it turned out to be bad for health.
Chris rolled her eyes again and sat down still facing this guy.
"I'm just here to talk to you"
"To persuade me to leave?"
"That depends"
It didn't of course. Even if he said he was looking for protection and guidance. Not that anyone would believe him, looking like this.
This is the countryside... you can't just wear black if you feel like it my lad, she thought. And that cross was a giveaway too. Far too big and too shiney. This is prostestant turf. You have to remain somber in the face of god. To glitter like a catholic... that was probably more discouraged than actual satanism. But only probably.
"Why are you here then?"
"Because this was the best place to go"
"For a little sacreligious behaviour, you mean?"
It was a stupid thing to say and she knew, but she got more annoyed by the minute. He was... unnerving. Something didn't feel right.
No, she realized. It did feel right and therefor wrong. Or what...
She blinked, realizing that he'd said something.
"What?" she snapped, returning to the outside world.
"I asked why I should do that."
She grinned, genuinely. That had to be some kind of joke.
“You look the part!” she stated, rather more snappish than she felt.
The man, no the boy, stared at her for some time.
“So do you.”
Chris felt a twinge. He was right, but it surprised her anyway.
“What makes you say that?” she sounded defensively. Nothing wrong with that, she felt, he was a stranger after all. A damn familiar stranger, somehow.
“Black is only pious if it is unattractive. This black suits you. You wear not a cross but an ankh. And I'm quite certain the circle under your shirt is a pentagram, which is quite Christian but nobody remembers that. And you are not doing this because you want to, which you would if you had some kind of faith.”
Chris actually blushed. Where the hell did that come from? Did she spend all of her defense on the reverend? Anyway, what did it matter? He was a stranger, there was no point for him telling anyone..
“So maybe you're right. What has that got to do with anything?”
The boy reached upwards and grasped the rail of the banister with both hands, as if he was about to pull himself up.
“It means we might end up in this together.”
Chris made no step backwards but definitely felt that was what she should do. What did he think? What, come to think of that, did she think? Warm, fuzzy stuff? A bit, but why? There was nothing warm and fuzzy around, she was tired and annoyed. It was much more the time for spiky, edgy thinking. But it didn't happen. Damn head, letting you down when you needed it..
She tried to glare at him but wasn't sure if she succeeded.
“I'll go back and tell them you looked for shelter and that you'll leave tomorrow night.”
He stared back, his face concealed by the shadows.
“But you'll be back.”
Now he felt really angry.
“Don't depend on it.”
She went, carefully, trying not to think of it as an escape.
Back in her house she passed the mirror again. Now she definitely didn't look very human, various emotions and the cold of the way back had left their marks. Chris sighed and started to pull her outfit apart. There were times where everything sucked.
Chapter 02 - join the club
Chris gave the sun an angry look when she got up the next morning. Shining and warming the world was all very well but did it need to be so obtrusive, so bright? Slowly and with her head buzzing she fumbled with her stereo. Cheery 4/4 rhythms poured out of the speakers. Out of reflex her legs twinged for a second but then she stopped. She wasn't in the mood to dance and anyway she felt more like a piece of steel than anything else.
Her hated mirror, always happy to make a morning more grave, bluntly explained that she did indeed look like she felt. With a sigh Chris picked up a brush and started to tend to her hair. Damn it, she mused, as knots untied and curls straightened. Everyday the same procedure. I could call myself lucky for not having curls – but I don't. Guess no one is ever happy with their hair. Lost in her work she felt her eyes unfocused in the mirror. Her own reflection wavered and for a moment she saw something else. Pale, dark and blueish inside the eyes. She gave a yelp and cursed. She had moved the brush harshly and it felt as if she'd just uprooted some hair.
Chris got up, her expression paint. Damn it all. Damn this boy. This boy. Chris stopped dead, half dressed, hairbrush in hand. After a brief moment her mind told her, that indeed, last night actually happened and that there was still this strange boy in the church and she still had to tell the revered what she'd achieved, which was more or less nothing. Damn. Feeling as if her morning had been ruined anyway, she grabbed a towel and stomped off to the bath, looking forward to a long shower like a boxing champion to a sparring session. Showers were a great thing.
Warm water ran down her face and the rest of her body, dripped from her hair and tried its best. It wasn't enough, but it still felt wonderful. Muscles relaxed and even parts of her usually fizzing head came to something approaching calmness. Chris leaded her head against the cold wall and closed her eyes. The water's heat and noise became a soft cocoon for several minutes.
What to do now.. she had to get human, fully human, and then she'd had to go over to the sacristy. But what should she tell the man? Yes indeed there's this guy all in black but he says he has good intentions? Actually, that wasn't what he'd said but what he meant. Probably. Maybe. And then the clergyman would give her a look no doubt and sooner or later he'd ask why she didn't visit the services anymore. She ought to tell him that she did not, in fact, care about anything he preached, that she'd read most scripture and indeed understood the message but that it still left her cold, even, if she was honest with herself, kind of alienated. Where was the point? How could people believe? She couldn't, not anymore, if she ever really had.
Her eyes snapped open as she realized she'd almost fallen asleep again. In the damn shower of all places. Well it was even warmer than her bed.. she bit her lip angrily, turned of the water and went on the quest for dryness and clothing.
Dressing was always a problem, but not for the obvious and cliché female reasons. Maybe ever so slightly, but she guessed even men faced that problem so it was kind of normal and perfectly alright. Or something.
She loved black, that was the truth of it, but she seldom wore it, and even more seldom completely. Most of her wardrobe had been bought with money coming from her mother and she'd dictated her views into the selection. Then there were people who observed what you wore and judged you by it. She had to mind that as long as she lived here, it was that or falling of a social cliff. It wouldn't be so bad if there was someone to fall to, but there wasn't. She was all alone in this nowhere of a place. Lucky for her that there were also colours she liked, bright ones too, some anyway. It was a good way to disguise, but nothing could remove her expression. It'd need permanent plastic surgery.
She needed a plan. It came to her. Smiling like a cat spotting a white mouse she reached for her special chest.
Admittedly it wasn't much of a plan, but it was one and therefore superior to the alternative, which included the total lack of plans.
Chris ran across the pathway to the church, now traced by sunlight filtered through the trees, much less menacing than the night before. She grinned to herself, although she felt nervous and was sure that her ears, hidden below her hair, were at least a bit red. With care not to make too much noise Chris pushed a card under the door of the sacristy. She couldn't think of another way to avoid a direct conversation with the reverend. He wasn't supposed to see her at the moment. It would spoil his views, very definitely.
Climbing the stairs calmed her down, because it would conveniently be an excuse for her face to be flushed. No need to act extra embarrassed. She was just out of breath, oh yes.
He was still there, in the shades of the balcony overlooking the church. It appeared as if he hadn't moved since she left half a day ago, but he obviously had to, being human and the like. She had wished, in a childlike way, that he'd turn out to be inhuman. It would have made everything more interesting.
“Bringing another message from the light?”
Annoyance rushed through Chris. What kind of question was that? As if she'd do.. wait – in a sense she did, didn't she? It came down on how you defined light.. a pity he couldn't really see her. Or luckily. Whatever.
“You'll come with me.”
It was a statement and Chris was silently proud of how she'd managed to control her voice. She wasn't going to be unsettled, not by this, this.. guy.
“And why should I do that?”
Did he ever change his tone of voice? Chris had to admit it was a sensible question but she had hoped he could work that out for himself.
“Because “ she said, making a step forward “I'm the only one here who'd ask you this without bad intentions. Probably.”
He seemed to fix his gaze on her, she couldn't be sure, but decided not to be deterred.
“Will you come? You can tell me stuff. Or don't. But you won't get pestered by people with interesting if wacky beliefs.”
“I don't know what you believe.” he said and probably grinned. Chris paused for a second, more annoyed than stumped.
“You could find out.”
Chris made a few steps back. There was a light outside were stairway and door intercepted and while it not ventured into the room it illuminated whoever stood just in front of the doorway. Her eyeshade shone and her clothes tried to absorb the dim light.
“You know” he said quietly “that is a very shallow way to bait me.”
Chris nodded.
“Yes, but it will work.”
“And why's that?”
“Because you want to find out whether I'm serious or not.”
There was silence for a few second, that a chuckle.
“You're right.”
The sky had blackened and threatened to unleash rain any minute. Chris might normally have cheered or growled at that but now she tried to keep her face straight and her gaze locked to the path ahead. She hadn't guessed how unsettling his company would be. He did nothing more then walking somewhere next to her, following. Yet she felt the urge to turn her head, watch at his face in the odd gloom of the wood; all too pale and reminding, too much angled and sunken in in places. He lacked the draw towards the sun. And food, she added as an afterthought. Something she could change maybe.
Chris bit the inside of her cheek. Why to stray with your thoughts, she muttered wordlessly. From then she kept to gazing at her moving feet.
By the time they reached the house it had turned so dark it felt like early evening, even though it was barely midday. Chris had tried to count the rings of the church bell but hadn't been able to concentrate. If this goes on, she reflected grinning, I might even shout at him again.
She struck a pose which let her dress flow around her in a fashion carefully balanced between cool and foolish. It was quite hard to do.
“This is it, just another one, barely distinguishable.”
His face didn't give a lot away, but she could guess his thoughts. 'I bet it is different inside'. The door looked normal enough, though there wasn't the usual WELCOME mat inviting visitors. They probably were never welcome but came anyway. Surprisingly, it wasn't vastly different inside. The hall was just a hall. Sparsely furnished with places to put coats and shoes and an empty and thus pointless umbrella stand.
She she wrenched off her shoes she caught a glimpse of his face. There wasn't a lot of light in the small room and he still looked like an apparition rather than a human being. His expression had changed though, softer, curious.
Behind the hall lay a small with a staircase to the right and a door at the far end. In theory an old couple lived there but they were always scuba-diving on Fiji or someplace and she'd never really seen them in years. But they had to be alive because they still paid rent.
She caught him nodding slightly as if to himself when she turned to the staircase. Leading him up there Chris wondered for a second if he looked at her and not just at the floor. He of course would be when she had turned around so she didn't try. What did it matter anyway?
Upstairs he led him though yet another corridor which didn't look too interesting either. As she opened the door at the far end though, Chris' face lit up a bit. This would be more like it.
Chris strode into her quite large room without knocking anything down or looking stupid. Then she turned around letting her skirt fly again. Then she fixed him and smiled.
“Convinced?”
For the first time she saw him moving his head around and throwing his gaze about deliberately. It occurred to him that once this had been the room of a ordinary young girl. Wallpaper and floor indicated it, but it was also evident that this girl had turned into an adolescent and then into a young woman and had acquired a personality. Or some personality. Things, and there was no other word for them, were carefully positioned on shelves and in cupboards. Pictures and drawings next to the things and on the walls spoke of romanticism and the everlasting search of teenagers in the world for a sense in all the gloom. It spoke, to him, of home.
He locked eyes with her and smiled, causing her cheeks to burst into flame.
“I'm convinced.”
Chris made a step back and nearly collided with a bookcase. So much for not being clumsy. She reached behind her and triggered a lightswitch. Two lamps lit up their light white and warm. Chris hated the yellowish light normal lamps throw about and had insisted on purchasing expensive daylight lamps. It also kept her happy during the winter, except when the radiator didn't work. Now with more light she could, for the first time, actually examine his face.
It was indeed quite pale and reminded her of her own skin. His hair was light, quite unexpectedly and hung listlessly around his head as if it just worthwhile do do anything extraordinary. His eyes were underlined by unpleasantly dark circles yet still shone blue. Actually, Chris corrected herself, they didn't shine at all but it would have been cool if they had. It would have suited him. His cloths were black, no surprise there, but more plain than she had imagined. He'd rid himself of the large rosary styled cross. Around his neck was now something looking like an angel's wing. Whatever that meant.
The sheer awkwardness made her sit down on the floor with her back to the bed. He remained standing for a few seconds, then sat down as well facing her. Small talk poked its head around and fled.
“What now?” he asked, obviously curious.
She regarded him with a special glare.
“You can start by telling me who THE FUCK you are.”
His eyebrows rose slightly but instead of answering he just stared for some time.
“Could ask you the same.”
Fair point, Chris admitted, but what the hell.
“Your in my house. I'm a young, defenceless child and 'd like to know what large, deranged maniac I've picked up.”
The sarcasm refused to drip in spite of good reasons. The 'large' in particular was stressing facts a bit, yet it came out easier than something closer to truth. Conversation had never been something she'd been good at with strangers. Especially not strangers with eyes that should try to outshine a lake bathed in the light of an early summer day, or something, even if they didn't.
“And I'd like to know what sick, disturbed girl I've willingly followed and whether you'll try to gut me all over this lovely carpet later.” he said dryly.
Chris felt angry again. What the fuck was he thinking, talking to her like this? But it had sounded like something she would have said – or maybe not said but thought.
“I'll do that later. First I'll show you my marvellous collection of Barbie dolls, just to make you feel how deranged and sick I am.”
If you want to play, lad, lets play.
“It'll give the police something to think of to be sure.”
Chris suppressed a smile.
“Imagine the headlines.”
He smiled, once more pushing colour onto her face.
“I do. SATANIST SLAUGHTERED BY MAD BARBIE COLLECTOR. It would brighten my day if I wouldn't be busy being dead.”
Now smiling slightly Chris put her fingertips together in a pose she'd adopted from a book character.
“And have you, by any chance, got a name, my charming going-to-be victim?”
For the first time in the last few minutes he looked away in thought. Chris wondered why. It couldn't be because he had an embarrassing name, that would be too childish. What else was there to think about? Would he even tell her his real name, or just make one up? But that surely would show sooner or later and besides, what was to be gained? It would be truly pointless. But it would be a game and at the moment everything was.
“My name's Jonas.” he thought for another moment “it should sound more dramatic, but that is as good as it gets.”
Now Chris gave a genuine smile. She'd already blushed so there was nothing to loose.
“Never mind, I'll call you Kato.”
His eyebrows shot up and he even inched back a bit, clearly caught off guard.
“Why?” he finally managed. “Cause I think Carthago should be razed?”
“Show-Off.”
“So?”
“I just happen to like the name.”
In fact it belonged to a character she was rather fond of which bore no resemblance to him whatsoever. It was just a cute name.
Jonas leaned closer again, trying to find her gaze but she let her eyes jump around randomly, resting on the bookshelves, on candles, his hands, the windows.
“Write this down somewhere before you kill me, ok? It will confuse the analysts even more.”
Chris nodded, grinning.
The grin fled when Jonas/Kato leaned forward and caught her stare again.
“I could get used to the prospected of being murdered by you. Even though you even told me your name.”
“It's.. It's Chris. And don't you dare make a crack about it.”
“I won't. You manage that on your own.” he said, not smiling this time.
Chris idly reached out for the remote for her stereo.
“Now I know your name but that's still no help. Tell me more.”
The stereo woke up from its slumber.
Maybe she'll like if I play guitar.. maybe she'll like if I'm the lead singer.. yeah.. oh yeah..there are so many bands and we all look the same..
Chris rolled her eyes. Why hadn't she changed the disc? She liked it alright but it kind of spoiled the picture she tried to construct.. hang on, she thought. What stupid superficial junk is this? Is this really you? Driven to appearances by the prospect finding someone a bit like herself? No, the record had to play because that also was her. Contrasts were necessary to join the club.
Kato appeared as if he hadn't noticed the out of place music, just looking vaguely in her direction. All for the better.
“I came through this place because I was on my way to visit somebody. But as you might have gathered, I'm not one with wads of cash.”
Chris' memory kicked into gear and she only then remembered that he'd carried a quite large backpack to her place which was now lying around somewhere downstairs. A tramp? Did he run from home? If so, then why?
“Visit who?”
“Just someone.”
“Your girlfriend?”
She felt her own eyes widen in shock as she realized what she'd just asked. And how much she'd like to know the answer.
He smiled as if amused.
“She's not my girlfriend. There were times when I wished she was, but they passed long ago.”
Stabs into her guts. As if it was somehow important.
“Yeah right.” she pushed more irony into her voice “and for just this someone you travel from Christ knows where and she's not even your girlfriend?”
“He doesn't. And I never said she wasn't special to me.”
Why am I asking all this? Maybe I'd like to know at some point but not right now? Maybe I should more be introspective, she considered, but it's just so.. wrong. Ok, so he was on his way to see this girl, woman, whoever she was. Did that mean he was really wanting to go? He hadn't seemed that way and didn't right now. Did that mean he wasn't serious? Oh the possibilities.. it was enough to give her a headache.
“I know your smile is deadly at this point.”
Kato had said something. Chris' brain decided it was needed and made her look up again.
“What? Sorry, I wasn't paying attention.”
He gave her another smile. Would he please stop doing this, she thought. Try behaving like the little misanthrope you seem to be..
“It was nothing.”
“All right..” Chris said, in an attempt to get the conversation going again “.. why did you hide in the church?”
The smile faded again. What had stabbed her guts minutes before was twisted around inside her.
“I told you the truth yesterday. It was the best place to go. I don't have much and the big church was unlocked, of course, and save from the wind. Cold as fuck though.”
Isn't fuck supposed to be warm? No, bad brain, bad brain, she scolded herself. Language was a strange thing.
“And you would have gone the next day?”
“Likely. But then you showed up up and talking to you, looking at you, being here, beats walking through the cold.”
Luckily, she could blush any more, her blush supply had been drained.
Chris gave up any protective barriers around her mind as if they'd been any real use. This whole situation was so strange, absurd and uncharacteristic, that it didn't really matter how much else she revealed of herself. Who were they? He. She. Just one letter made all the difference in this question. But selves are like metals. Under the heat of conversation, sharing, the growth of affection, they melt and blend. They form alloys. Some may break quickly enough but others rise stronger just as bronze is tougher than copper or zinc.
This is poetic nonsense though. Something Chris would wish to happen. In a way it did but in another, the real way all that happened was a lot of talk.
Then she touched her forearm and traced a slight white scar.
It could have meant nothing. Bodies accumulate scars of the years. But when he looked up at her he said wordlessly that he'd noticed. Can see that things happened and he didn't care about whether or not they were trivial. Interesting, concern. Most trivial things really, but so seldom they came from honest intentions. So she told him. So he told her.
The stereo had faded silent long ago and blackness pressed itself against the windows. In the bright light of her room Kato seemed like a distortion.
Chris didn't know why he had told her all this. Opened up. Why she had done the same. Reason said she didn't know him at all. Conscience tried to spread guilt. Her heart beat faster at the sign of yet another relentless and stupid inner struggle.
She caught his eye for the Xth time this day. His eyes still shone to her. Her heart pressed on and she was forced to look away.
Katos hand came to rest on her right shoulder. A connection established. Now, Chris remembered some martial arts guru saying once, energy could flow. She felt herself getting warm. When she found his gaze again her eyes widened as she realized.
Chris didn't know why. Didn't care.
Slowly she put one arm around his neck and felt his hand moving from her shoulder to do the same. Giving up the try to do this cool and experienced Chris closed her eyes and kissed him.
) konnte ich es recht flott durchlesen, hab aber auch noch einige Fehler am Wegesrand liegen sehen (vermutlich findet ein guter Lektor also noch ein paar mehr
).
