[ PRIVATE. // Grace Descending ]
[ ooc: Have an unsettling little short story that Odd wrote one night, probably after having one of his fever dreams while sick. As is the rest of Odd Company, it’s also private to Odd alone, and in hard copy. So there is no digitalized version of this to hack, per se.
To make up for how utterly depressing and baww it is, have some appropriate Muzak to listen to while reading it. Also a fair word of caution before clicking the cut: This piece is not exactly for the faint of heart, as with a lot of the stuff I write, it seems. ]
My name is Odd Thomas. I lead a usual life.
That goes to say that the days spent in my little world are nothing extraordinary. There is absolutely nothing strange or peculiar about my routine. I wake up, brush my teeth, go to work, eat, spend the rest of my day in leisurely activities, come home, eat, brush my teeth, set the alarm clock... rinse and repeat.
Nothing in this story is particularly interesting and, if any of this piques your interest in any way, then... may God have mercy on your pastimes. I am just a person of twenty-years old. Not quite an adult, but old enough to be mistrusted.
I spend my days doing what any other guy my age would do. I drive around. I read. I watch movies. I listen to music. On the best of days, when the desert heat becomes rough, I visit my girlfriend, the most beautiful woman in the world. We sit on a bench in the park and eat ice cream, or have cheese and crackers, talking about fish and the strict significance of ice cream flavor names. You wouldn’t believe it, but the ice cream industry sure are sticklers. Stormy Llewellyn dreams of starting her own ice cream shop one of these days. We have different dreams. When we get married, I plan on retiring my griddle at the Grille to become a tire salesman.
Like I said, nothing in this is particularly interesting. I do not want to be an astronaut, or a fire fighter, or a police officer. I don’t wish to be a hero. All I want, all I need, all I strive for, is happiness.
Here, in my little world in Pico Mundo, with my wonderful life and the girl of my dreams at my side, I am at peace.
Every day with Stormy is a day in paradise. We sit, we laugh, we have picnics at the bell tower, we exchange hopes and dreams of our future. When I am with her, I am comforted by the notion that everything is going to be all right. That this is how things were meant to be.
When we were younger, a carnival Gypsy Mummy promised us that we would be together forever. She keeps the certificate by her bed, as a reminder each day, a guarantee of our providence. We are soul mates. We share matching birthmarks.
All is well.
Stormy is working today. I plan to go see her as a surprise. Lunch plans were in order and everything was set; cheese and crackers at the bell tower, as usual.
***
I met a man on my way to Burk & Bailey’s. His name was Simon Varner. POD. For some reason that tattoo stuck out at me the first time I ever saw it. It was him and I didn’t know it was him beyond the ski mask. Just that, somehow, something seemed to occur to me when he turns to me with that assault rifle, and...
Fire. An explosion of pain. A searing world of anguish swirling in the dizzying vertigo of death as blood, there’s blood, it’s coming out from this...
Huh.
I did not recall there ever being such a hole in my chest. A gaping wound of blood and ribs sticking out. There is only a moment for me to look down, reach my hand through that hole before I realize... I realize... I realize... I am falling over. I curl up like a woodlouse, shriveled, cold. Blood is around me, a mixture of my own and others that have fallen. In a moment, my world of paradise is met with a Hell of screams and terror.
Yards away from me, I see the face of a dark-haired girl lying sideways, sprawled on the floor of the Burk & Bailey’s ice cream shop. For a moment I think it’s her. Those black, Egyptian eyes staring at me, dead, vacant, her lips seem so cold after the warm memories of the many times I’ve touched those lips, kissed those lips... Now she has holes in her chest and abdomen. Four times they shot her. Blood seeps from her uniform, which to me she always looked so beautiful, so sultry in, no matter how many times she hated it... and now I hate it too. How torn up it is. How red it is.
This isn’t real, I tell myself. It isn’t possible. That is not Stormy. She is too torn up to be Stormy. Too horrified, so weak, so frail. Not my Stormy Llewellyn, my girl, my hero. Together forever... That’s what Gypsy Mummy had told us. That was Gypsy Mummy’s promise. It was fated. It was destiny.
You are destined to be together forever.
But things didn’t turn out that way.
***
Often I wonder how things would have turned out if they had gone differently. If I had in some way foreseen the fate of the Green Moon Mall that had befallen on the two thousand lives that were lost there. The shooters shot and murdered many and, in the end, left no trace of the mall afterwards. Engulfed in rubble and flames, it became top of the newspaper headlines for a very long time. Reporters would not leave the story alone. This story with no heroes and happy ends. No one would believe that one person single-handedly disarmed three gunman and disable an explosive, anyway. I was not there to see it.
Instead I went away.
Stormy Llewellyn and I have moved on from boot camp to our second of three lives. We are having great adventures together in the next world... We are happy now. The kind of peace that I have sought after since I was a child, the thoughts and horror that swirled in my mind each time I thought about my mother...
But there is no sadness where I’m at now. No death, no destruction, no disease. But there is so much to be done. So much, and we will pull through. Persevere. Because everyone is here, and happiness at my side; her name is Stormy. We journey into the next life, for that is the next step between now and paradise, where we will finally be together forever, where the great adventure of our second life is only beginning. And we will still be there when you arrive, too, waiting for you.
Will you follow?
***
The cold drafts whispered through the cathedral walls when I awoke. The window clattered open and shut, beating softly against the windowpane while echoing into the night as I sit up in my bed. I returned from the dream, that beautiful dream, knowing full well what a dream it was.
My face buried into my hands. For a good long moment I just shook, but no tears rolled out. There were no tears. I was finished with them, for I’d had plenty of dreams just like that one. This is just the first time I have ever written out any of them, with the dim hope that, by doing so, I could put the old skeleton in the closet and be done with it.
As I brought my hands down, I was greeted by the sympathetic touch of a woman who reached out for my shoulder. Like me, she was trapped here, only trapped in a void of silence between life and death. Soon I hope to help her, because I pity her so much. I feel sorry for all of those just like her. So I do what I can.
I told her that I was all right. Although she didn’t look like she believed me, she got up, and walked through the wall. Probably off to see her husband...
What is planned for me in this world is, as I would like to believe, for destiny to decide. I do not favor death. I do not regret life, either. The living and the dead depend on me, after all. I am here. I am Odd Thomas, and I lead an unusual life, as do the people I live with. My family.
Happiness.
The window opened. And as I get up, I looked out into the open desolation that spread across the city of where I am now.
Here, in my broken world, across the view of this vastness of a ruined place, I am home.
To make up for how utterly depressing and baww it is, have some appropriate Muzak to listen to while reading it. Also a fair word of caution before clicking the cut: This piece is not exactly for the faint of heart, as with a lot of the stuff I write, it seems. ]
My name is Odd Thomas. I lead a usual life.
That goes to say that the days spent in my little world are nothing extraordinary. There is absolutely nothing strange or peculiar about my routine. I wake up, brush my teeth, go to work, eat, spend the rest of my day in leisurely activities, come home, eat, brush my teeth, set the alarm clock... rinse and repeat.
Nothing in this story is particularly interesting and, if any of this piques your interest in any way, then... may God have mercy on your pastimes. I am just a person of twenty-years old. Not quite an adult, but old enough to be mistrusted.
I spend my days doing what any other guy my age would do. I drive around. I read. I watch movies. I listen to music. On the best of days, when the desert heat becomes rough, I visit my girlfriend, the most beautiful woman in the world. We sit on a bench in the park and eat ice cream, or have cheese and crackers, talking about fish and the strict significance of ice cream flavor names. You wouldn’t believe it, but the ice cream industry sure are sticklers. Stormy Llewellyn dreams of starting her own ice cream shop one of these days. We have different dreams. When we get married, I plan on retiring my griddle at the Grille to become a tire salesman.
Like I said, nothing in this is particularly interesting. I do not want to be an astronaut, or a fire fighter, or a police officer. I don’t wish to be a hero. All I want, all I need, all I strive for, is happiness.
Here, in my little world in Pico Mundo, with my wonderful life and the girl of my dreams at my side, I am at peace.
Every day with Stormy is a day in paradise. We sit, we laugh, we have picnics at the bell tower, we exchange hopes and dreams of our future. When I am with her, I am comforted by the notion that everything is going to be all right. That this is how things were meant to be.
When we were younger, a carnival Gypsy Mummy promised us that we would be together forever. She keeps the certificate by her bed, as a reminder each day, a guarantee of our providence. We are soul mates. We share matching birthmarks.
All is well.
Stormy is working today. I plan to go see her as a surprise. Lunch plans were in order and everything was set; cheese and crackers at the bell tower, as usual.
***
I met a man on my way to Burk & Bailey’s. His name was Simon Varner. POD. For some reason that tattoo stuck out at me the first time I ever saw it. It was him and I didn’t know it was him beyond the ski mask. Just that, somehow, something seemed to occur to me when he turns to me with that assault rifle, and...
Fire. An explosion of pain. A searing world of anguish swirling in the dizzying vertigo of death as blood, there’s blood, it’s coming out from this...
Huh.
I did not recall there ever being such a hole in my chest. A gaping wound of blood and ribs sticking out. There is only a moment for me to look down, reach my hand through that hole before I realize... I realize... I realize... I am falling over. I curl up like a woodlouse, shriveled, cold. Blood is around me, a mixture of my own and others that have fallen. In a moment, my world of paradise is met with a Hell of screams and terror.
Yards away from me, I see the face of a dark-haired girl lying sideways, sprawled on the floor of the Burk & Bailey’s ice cream shop. For a moment I think it’s her. Those black, Egyptian eyes staring at me, dead, vacant, her lips seem so cold after the warm memories of the many times I’ve touched those lips, kissed those lips... Now she has holes in her chest and abdomen. Four times they shot her. Blood seeps from her uniform, which to me she always looked so beautiful, so sultry in, no matter how many times she hated it... and now I hate it too. How torn up it is. How red it is.
This isn’t real, I tell myself. It isn’t possible. That is not Stormy. She is too torn up to be Stormy. Too horrified, so weak, so frail. Not my Stormy Llewellyn, my girl, my hero. Together forever... That’s what Gypsy Mummy had told us. That was Gypsy Mummy’s promise. It was fated. It was destiny.
You are destined to be together forever.
But things didn’t turn out that way.
***
Often I wonder how things would have turned out if they had gone differently. If I had in some way foreseen the fate of the Green Moon Mall that had befallen on the two thousand lives that were lost there. The shooters shot and murdered many and, in the end, left no trace of the mall afterwards. Engulfed in rubble and flames, it became top of the newspaper headlines for a very long time. Reporters would not leave the story alone. This story with no heroes and happy ends. No one would believe that one person single-handedly disarmed three gunman and disable an explosive, anyway. I was not there to see it.
Instead I went away.
Stormy Llewellyn and I have moved on from boot camp to our second of three lives. We are having great adventures together in the next world... We are happy now. The kind of peace that I have sought after since I was a child, the thoughts and horror that swirled in my mind each time I thought about my mother...
But there is no sadness where I’m at now. No death, no destruction, no disease. But there is so much to be done. So much, and we will pull through. Persevere. Because everyone is here, and happiness at my side; her name is Stormy. We journey into the next life, for that is the next step between now and paradise, where we will finally be together forever, where the great adventure of our second life is only beginning. And we will still be there when you arrive, too, waiting for you.
Will you follow?
***
The cold drafts whispered through the cathedral walls when I awoke. The window clattered open and shut, beating softly against the windowpane while echoing into the night as I sit up in my bed. I returned from the dream, that beautiful dream, knowing full well what a dream it was.
My face buried into my hands. For a good long moment I just shook, but no tears rolled out. There were no tears. I was finished with them, for I’d had plenty of dreams just like that one. This is just the first time I have ever written out any of them, with the dim hope that, by doing so, I could put the old skeleton in the closet and be done with it.
As I brought my hands down, I was greeted by the sympathetic touch of a woman who reached out for my shoulder. Like me, she was trapped here, only trapped in a void of silence between life and death. Soon I hope to help her, because I pity her so much. I feel sorry for all of those just like her. So I do what I can.
I told her that I was all right. Although she didn’t look like she believed me, she got up, and walked through the wall. Probably off to see her husband...
What is planned for me in this world is, as I would like to believe, for destiny to decide. I do not favor death. I do not regret life, either. The living and the dead depend on me, after all. I am here. I am Odd Thomas, and I lead an unusual life, as do the people I live with. My family.
Happiness.
The window opened. And as I get up, I looked out into the open desolation that spread across the city of where I am now.
Here, in my broken world, across the view of this vastness of a ruined place, I am home.