Another Story! wow!
LOL I've been hit by another story - blame the fact I've finally caught up on sleep.
(still leaving the started stories until more time to write them, but one-shots are different)
I was actually looking for a specific visual_trigger that I spied some time ago, instead I stumbled upon this and it went where it wanted. I was intenting a more lively tone but it went where it wanted and suddenly there was backstory and a different feel to it. Must be the mood I'm in ^__^ One of the reason I enjoy triggers/prompts is that they can take unexpected turns.
Title : Welcome Home
Wordcount : 1542
Warnings : None
Trigger # 3 - from ralphiere
Joseph stepped onto the platform and froze, waking up when he was pushed by others exiting the train, mumbling absent apologies he took up his battered case and stepped away from the throng. Everything was the same and yet so different. The train station a single platform with a long wide flight of stairs to reach the other side, still no elevator in sight he noted as he heaved up his case, then with a spark of awareness relieved a larger heavier case off a struggling woman, gaining a heartfelt thanks as she clasped her struggling daughter for the climb.
He catalogued the fresh layer of paint, bright blue that was once pale grey. The steps were the same, he counted the steps along with the little girl, the same half forgotten number. Returning the case and accepting the thanks without fuss he shook his head to the waiting taxi driver and chose instead to walk. Took the slight sloping road downward, bypassing the town centre.
A long road with a smattering of houses, he didn’t step far before he was greeted. Surprise then joy colouring voices and gears churning for gossip and news. Pity layered eyes and words were mumbled then moved on from. A novelty he was questioned in depth and told stories of familiar faces until he was dragged back into the fold. Less the outsider looking in and more the prodigal son.
The house was faded. Yard once tended religiously was a concrete flat, weeds pushing their way through cracks. The keys felt heavy in his hand and he tossed them reflectively. It had been a long time since he stood here, leaving with an aching heart, the bruises had taken a long time to heal. His parents has come round, been as reasonable as they were capable of. More so than he ever expected, but this was never again home. He’d never returned here. Their relationship was forever strained, that thin barrier neither side could tare down, for all the love that flowed through and around.
Dropping his case on the path Joseph left it there. It would be safe enough, the town hadn’t changed that much. Nothing within was irreplaceable, a change of clothes, paperbacks and wash-bag. What mattered was the postcard he held to hand. A photograph really. A captured frame printed on card and posted to his apartment, it had come after the slew of sympathy and flowery cards. Held no words yet taunted him, beckoned him. It was the card that brought him here. Responsibilities left on hold it was the blank card that had him stride off, feet taking a route they could never forget. Long legs eating ground shorter legs had run, teenage legs had sneaked. Pace quickening as he reached an overgrown path and pushed through flowering hedges to reach the crest of hill. Climbing the bank and rounding the curve Joseph followed the narrow footpath.
The tree still stood there. Splendid and green. The field spread out from his feet a carpet of wild flowers, strong Daisies and the golden yellow Buttercups. Dandelion clocks danced in the wind and scooping he plucked one, blowing lightly that the seeds flew up in a cloud, the seeds parachuting far and wide seeking their own adventure. The place was quiet now, but signs of hard labour where everywhere. Scaffolding coated some outer walls. New rafters were laid ready to rise, old worn pieces lay scattered for removal. Glass already shone in windows. New wooden doors now stood in the cavernous arched entrance. Grass was well trodden and a driveway forged to those doors. Nature still intruded, ivy still coated one wall and bushes were allowed to sprout near. The old farm house nestled there, grand, repaired, but the secrets still sacred.
A man stood in the open doorway watching him and Joseph startled to see him though in he’d stood there all along. Patient and waiting. Strong weatherworn features of one who worked outdoors. Handsome and reliable. Irreparably part of this old house, entwined in it’s every brick. Caleb belonged here Joseph realised. In dreams and memories he always was. He’d moved on, done his own study and tasting of life but circled around and grown here. The place grew with him. Without Caleb it was a ruin that would never breath again.
Holding the postcard up Joseph fingered the shell of a house, bricks sound and graffiti colouring one wall. Tribal marks claiming neglected brick. The roof breaking up as it sloped over high windows and the chimney almost gone. Brambles reclaiming the land. Picturesque and poignant.
They run through the halls, leaned in windows to make each other jump. Climbed through skylights to slide dangerously down the roof. Careless in their youth and striving for adventure. They’d found true adventure here later. Years of friendship tested with a first nervous touch. Quivering lips meeting chapped ones so tentative and new. Innocent yet deep, shaking both boys to their foundations, for this was right. A shiver and chill they fostered until it licked with heat. Camping here, kings of their own little kingdom. Exploring the fields by day and each other by night. Tentative at first but with growing wonder. Wide eyed with wonder, warmth in their hearts as their sighs and cries were guarded by the old stone walls.
It couldn’t last. Discovered in an absent moment, hands clenched and lips mingling. Shouted judgement and pain enough to shatter. Time had healed the mental wounds, the scars left faint but itching. Sent away until the storm stopped raging, but never able to return, his own obstinacy lurking there as strong as any censor. One last night. He’d known to flee here. Known Caleb would be here drawn by an instinctive knowledge neither could begin to describe. It was the same always. When either hurt they ran here and here the other waited. It was Joseph who’d stayed away.
A sob broke in his throat caught there until he chocked to release it. Blindly Joseph walked forward across the building site. Memory flashing phantom images. Young boys fishing futilely in a muddy pond, their laughter light and breezy, dancing in memory and promise as he crossed the yard. Clothing rustling in corners, hands brushing by careful accident and the spontaneous joy as lips also brushed. Stuttered breathes and intense concentration. Secrets and rejoicing.
His vision blurred and rubbing his eyes Joseph found them wet. He couldn’t remember starting to cry, his face streaked by a silent stream of tears. Wasn’t sure for what he cried. His grief still fresh or the older loss facing him now.
Reaching Caleb, taller, broader, older. Unchanged. Joseph stood absorbing him. Caleb’s eyes as clear and blue as ever held every answer he’d never dared to ask. They filtered over him taking in the travel creased clothing, the tired wet eyes and the unspoken longing. His smile was soft and slow as it travelled his face, lit his eyes as it always did on seeing his closet friend.
They’d kept in touch after a fashion. Written the odd letters that curtained all that mattered, had emailed random jokes. Meetings had been scarce and awkward, so many things to go unvoiced. their friendship was there and real, still special, but distant. This building stood the test of time. Restored, it humbled Joseph.
Joseph reached out to ground himself. Touched his rock, the source that kept him strong. Caleb relaxed under his questing hand, throwing off a tension that had been well hidden. His rougher hand lifted to shadow Joseph’s and the contact burned through his very fibre. Their eyes met and said everything their lips failed to frame and then strong arms enveloped him and he was clinging to this man. This special, special friend.
A hand cradled his head close while another stroked his spine. He gripped tight to an old work shirt and rubbed his face in the scratchy collar. Drinking in deep the smell and feel and wonder. Everything crashed at once, his legs shaky and those arms all that held him up. His chest shuddered and his breath grew raspy as he learned to breath again. Air singing through his airways and blood heating as it raced from his racing heart.
Lifting his head but standing safe within the containing arms Joseph parted his lips, tried to find the words. Caleb shook his head and gave a smile so tender it stole his jumping thoughts. A thumb brushed his cheek then lips followed. His tear marked cheeks were kissed so softly it could be an imagined touch. His lips were kissed. Closed mouthed, a steady unhurried press. Eyes falling closed Joseph lifted his chin and offered his own kiss back. Felt the scratch of unshaven face rubbed against him the sweet taste of homecoming.
The held each other for time untold before stepping inside and exploring inside the play den now turned house. Shoulders knocked and hands found each others to grip tight, unhidden. The sun burst outside, dancing in the windows and brightening empty walls with possibilities. The only words that mattered were the once that Caleb said, arm heavy around him and blue eyes looking deep into his soul.
‘Welcome Home’
x
(still leaving the started stories until more time to write them, but one-shots are different)
I was actually looking for a specific visual_trigger that I spied some time ago, instead I stumbled upon this and it went where it wanted. I was intenting a more lively tone but it went where it wanted and suddenly there was backstory and a different feel to it. Must be the mood I'm in ^__^ One of the reason I enjoy triggers/prompts is that they can take unexpected turns.
Title : Welcome Home
Wordcount : 1542
Warnings : None
Trigger # 3 - from ralphiere
Joseph stepped onto the platform and froze, waking up when he was pushed by others exiting the train, mumbling absent apologies he took up his battered case and stepped away from the throng. Everything was the same and yet so different. The train station a single platform with a long wide flight of stairs to reach the other side, still no elevator in sight he noted as he heaved up his case, then with a spark of awareness relieved a larger heavier case off a struggling woman, gaining a heartfelt thanks as she clasped her struggling daughter for the climb.
He catalogued the fresh layer of paint, bright blue that was once pale grey. The steps were the same, he counted the steps along with the little girl, the same half forgotten number. Returning the case and accepting the thanks without fuss he shook his head to the waiting taxi driver and chose instead to walk. Took the slight sloping road downward, bypassing the town centre.
A long road with a smattering of houses, he didn’t step far before he was greeted. Surprise then joy colouring voices and gears churning for gossip and news. Pity layered eyes and words were mumbled then moved on from. A novelty he was questioned in depth and told stories of familiar faces until he was dragged back into the fold. Less the outsider looking in and more the prodigal son.
The house was faded. Yard once tended religiously was a concrete flat, weeds pushing their way through cracks. The keys felt heavy in his hand and he tossed them reflectively. It had been a long time since he stood here, leaving with an aching heart, the bruises had taken a long time to heal. His parents has come round, been as reasonable as they were capable of. More so than he ever expected, but this was never again home. He’d never returned here. Their relationship was forever strained, that thin barrier neither side could tare down, for all the love that flowed through and around.
Dropping his case on the path Joseph left it there. It would be safe enough, the town hadn’t changed that much. Nothing within was irreplaceable, a change of clothes, paperbacks and wash-bag. What mattered was the postcard he held to hand. A photograph really. A captured frame printed on card and posted to his apartment, it had come after the slew of sympathy and flowery cards. Held no words yet taunted him, beckoned him. It was the card that brought him here. Responsibilities left on hold it was the blank card that had him stride off, feet taking a route they could never forget. Long legs eating ground shorter legs had run, teenage legs had sneaked. Pace quickening as he reached an overgrown path and pushed through flowering hedges to reach the crest of hill. Climbing the bank and rounding the curve Joseph followed the narrow footpath.
The tree still stood there. Splendid and green. The field spread out from his feet a carpet of wild flowers, strong Daisies and the golden yellow Buttercups. Dandelion clocks danced in the wind and scooping he plucked one, blowing lightly that the seeds flew up in a cloud, the seeds parachuting far and wide seeking their own adventure. The place was quiet now, but signs of hard labour where everywhere. Scaffolding coated some outer walls. New rafters were laid ready to rise, old worn pieces lay scattered for removal. Glass already shone in windows. New wooden doors now stood in the cavernous arched entrance. Grass was well trodden and a driveway forged to those doors. Nature still intruded, ivy still coated one wall and bushes were allowed to sprout near. The old farm house nestled there, grand, repaired, but the secrets still sacred.
A man stood in the open doorway watching him and Joseph startled to see him though in he’d stood there all along. Patient and waiting. Strong weatherworn features of one who worked outdoors. Handsome and reliable. Irreparably part of this old house, entwined in it’s every brick. Caleb belonged here Joseph realised. In dreams and memories he always was. He’d moved on, done his own study and tasting of life but circled around and grown here. The place grew with him. Without Caleb it was a ruin that would never breath again.
Holding the postcard up Joseph fingered the shell of a house, bricks sound and graffiti colouring one wall. Tribal marks claiming neglected brick. The roof breaking up as it sloped over high windows and the chimney almost gone. Brambles reclaiming the land. Picturesque and poignant.
They run through the halls, leaned in windows to make each other jump. Climbed through skylights to slide dangerously down the roof. Careless in their youth and striving for adventure. They’d found true adventure here later. Years of friendship tested with a first nervous touch. Quivering lips meeting chapped ones so tentative and new. Innocent yet deep, shaking both boys to their foundations, for this was right. A shiver and chill they fostered until it licked with heat. Camping here, kings of their own little kingdom. Exploring the fields by day and each other by night. Tentative at first but with growing wonder. Wide eyed with wonder, warmth in their hearts as their sighs and cries were guarded by the old stone walls.
It couldn’t last. Discovered in an absent moment, hands clenched and lips mingling. Shouted judgement and pain enough to shatter. Time had healed the mental wounds, the scars left faint but itching. Sent away until the storm stopped raging, but never able to return, his own obstinacy lurking there as strong as any censor. One last night. He’d known to flee here. Known Caleb would be here drawn by an instinctive knowledge neither could begin to describe. It was the same always. When either hurt they ran here and here the other waited. It was Joseph who’d stayed away.
A sob broke in his throat caught there until he chocked to release it. Blindly Joseph walked forward across the building site. Memory flashing phantom images. Young boys fishing futilely in a muddy pond, their laughter light and breezy, dancing in memory and promise as he crossed the yard. Clothing rustling in corners, hands brushing by careful accident and the spontaneous joy as lips also brushed. Stuttered breathes and intense concentration. Secrets and rejoicing.
His vision blurred and rubbing his eyes Joseph found them wet. He couldn’t remember starting to cry, his face streaked by a silent stream of tears. Wasn’t sure for what he cried. His grief still fresh or the older loss facing him now.
Reaching Caleb, taller, broader, older. Unchanged. Joseph stood absorbing him. Caleb’s eyes as clear and blue as ever held every answer he’d never dared to ask. They filtered over him taking in the travel creased clothing, the tired wet eyes and the unspoken longing. His smile was soft and slow as it travelled his face, lit his eyes as it always did on seeing his closet friend.
They’d kept in touch after a fashion. Written the odd letters that curtained all that mattered, had emailed random jokes. Meetings had been scarce and awkward, so many things to go unvoiced. their friendship was there and real, still special, but distant. This building stood the test of time. Restored, it humbled Joseph.
Joseph reached out to ground himself. Touched his rock, the source that kept him strong. Caleb relaxed under his questing hand, throwing off a tension that had been well hidden. His rougher hand lifted to shadow Joseph’s and the contact burned through his very fibre. Their eyes met and said everything their lips failed to frame and then strong arms enveloped him and he was clinging to this man. This special, special friend.
A hand cradled his head close while another stroked his spine. He gripped tight to an old work shirt and rubbed his face in the scratchy collar. Drinking in deep the smell and feel and wonder. Everything crashed at once, his legs shaky and those arms all that held him up. His chest shuddered and his breath grew raspy as he learned to breath again. Air singing through his airways and blood heating as it raced from his racing heart.
Lifting his head but standing safe within the containing arms Joseph parted his lips, tried to find the words. Caleb shook his head and gave a smile so tender it stole his jumping thoughts. A thumb brushed his cheek then lips followed. His tear marked cheeks were kissed so softly it could be an imagined touch. His lips were kissed. Closed mouthed, a steady unhurried press. Eyes falling closed Joseph lifted his chin and offered his own kiss back. Felt the scratch of unshaven face rubbed against him the sweet taste of homecoming.
The held each other for time untold before stepping inside and exploring inside the play den now turned house. Shoulders knocked and hands found each others to grip tight, unhidden. The sun burst outside, dancing in the windows and brightening empty walls with possibilities. The only words that mattered were the once that Caleb said, arm heavy around him and blue eyes looking deep into his soul.
‘Welcome Home’
x