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Post by thesuki on Feb 25, 2007 4:44:22 GMT
It's not, like, eye-bleedingly bad. Just not as good as it could be. Probably because I'm not too good at writing characters in the future (unless it's 2 and 86).
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Post by destinyinevitable on Feb 25, 2007 4:51:24 GMT
I'd still like to see it.
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Post by thesuki on Feb 25, 2007 4:52:37 GMT
Glad someone is. *nursing a wounded ego*
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Post by destinyinevitable on Feb 25, 2007 4:54:59 GMT
Well, I've always notied that better writers often (though not all) say their work is a lot worse than it actually is.
It's the one proclaiming their writing as amazing and wonderful that you gotta watch out for.
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Post by thesuki on Feb 25, 2007 4:56:35 GMT
That's true. Artists, as well. I recall one person recently posted something on another forum and said they thought it was really, really good. It was God-awful. Probably good for that person's skill level, but GEEZ!
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Post by destinyinevitable on Feb 25, 2007 4:59:34 GMT
I mainly noticed it with an old friend of mine...the boy was awful at writing and art, but he thought he was, to quote him, "the best artist in our town"...even with my old hometown of only 1,017, he was still one of the worst, not including those younger than him.
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Post by thesuki on Feb 25, 2007 5:01:16 GMT
Operation: D.E.A.T.H.B.E.D.
Dying
Evil
Adult
Tells
Heinrich
Before
Eventual
Demise
The adobe bricks that formed the single-story building were fresh and clean, as though each had been made only minutes ago. The surrounding gardens contrasted nicely with the red blocks. Flowers of all colors danced in the breeze as birds and butterflies played among the flora. A stream trickled over round rocks down a haphazard path painstakingly designed by a clever architect. The paths and benches were scattered with people in various states of living decay, spending their last days on Earth somewhere less depressing than a hospital.
Inside the hospice, the white walls caught the light from the many large, open windows. The floor was covered by rose-colored carpet with swirls of green against the walls. The bare spots on the walls sported matching frames containing light floral pictures. The air smelled fresh and clean, more like a home than a place to die, which was precisely the point.
Down the hall, passed the small café and snack bar, a door opened to a small indoor garden. Lush foliage trimmed just enough to keep the paths clear lined the walkway. A fountain gurgled cheerfully, sunlight breaking through the glass ceiling to shimmer off the water and coins tossed by hopeful wishers.
One of the two-dozen suites was decorated far differently from the soft pastels of rest of the building. In the front room, the throw pillows in shades of blue and aqua trimmed the sofa. Seascapes and paintings of ships hung on the blue-lined walls. A window taking up half the height of the right wall provided a beautiful view of a clear blue lake.
Heinrich snorted at the decor from the doorway. Zey should haff framed candy wrappers and given him a view of the vending machine, he thought derisively. Leaving the doorway, the young man crossed the room and pushed open the bedroom door. Another picture window opened to the same lake view. More sea-related pictures lined the walls. Heinrich’s target reclined on a king-sized bed against a pile of green pillows watching Unwrapped on the oversized entertainment center. “So that’s how they make Jell-o,” the patient murmured.
“Not sugar-free, I hope,” Heinrich commented, entering the room.
Stickybeard looked away from his program. “Heinrich, my lad!” he bellowed. “I thought ye’d be comin’ in today. Eh…” He glanced at the opened door, then said in a stage whisper, “Did ye bring what I asked fer?”
Instead of answering, Heinrich removed a paper bag from beneath his jacket and tossed it on the bed. Various candies spilled in a rainbow over the blue and white comforter. “Ah, I knew I could count on ye, lad.” Stickybeard tore open a bar and sunk the few teeth that had miraculously survived this long into the chocolate. Heinrich studied the former-pirate. Very little grey highlighted his red hair and beard (free of all candy for a change). He was young; not much over forty. Far too young to be dying.
No one had been surprised when Stickybeard was diagnosed with diabetes. Nor were they surprised when he ignored all doctor’s warnings and continued candy piracy. Before long high blood pressure and cholesterol had clogged his arteries so badly the doctors could do nothing else for him. After the third heart attack, all that was left was to make his final days as comfortable as possible.
Heinrich’s gut twisted at the thought. The captain had… been good to him. Not like a father; more like that one uncle who never really grew up. The one who liked nothing more than to get into trouble. Heinrich would be sorry to see him go.
Judging by the gifts scattered on the table, he wasn’t the only one. Heinrich poked through the tokens: some balloons, many flowers, a few stuffed animals (who gave Rainbow Monkeys to a pirate?), and a mug full of peppermint sticks. This gift caught his attention. Both because all other candy had been confiscated due to Stickybeard’s illness, and because peppermint was one of Stickybeard’s favorites, but not many people knew that. Heinrich removed one of the minty treats and examined it. “Who brought dis?” he inquired.
Stickybeard swallowed a mouthful of marshmallow and answered, “That lass, Numbuh 5, brought it earlier.”
The peppermint snapped from the pressure of Heinrich’s clenched fist. “She vas here?” he asked, his tone deadpan.
Stickybeard stopped gnawing on a rope of licorice and turned narrow eyes on his former cabin boy. “Don’t be tellin’ me ya still holdin’ a grudge towards her, Lad.” Heinrich didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. “Yer twenty-two years old, Heinrich,” Stickybeard continued. “That was over half yer life ago. Why don’t ye drop it already?”
“Never!” Heinrich tossed the candy back on the table with enough force to shatter the peppermint.
Stickybeard pursed his lips, the candy in his hand forgotten. “I always knew ye were a fool, boy, but I’d hoped ye wouldn’t make the same mistake I did.”
Heinrich looked at the captain in surprise. Stickybeard’s good eye was on the television, but not seeing the program. A memory seemed to be playing in his mind. The pirate blinked, then settled back against the pillows with a weary sigh. “I had a girl once,” he said, more to himself than anyone who might be listening. “We traveled the world together. Sailed the suburbs from California to Maine and beyond. Till she turned on me.”
Blue eyes narrowed behind a polished monocle. If he knew what it was to be betrayed, how could he advise Heinrich to forget?
The pirate continued, “I don’t even remember what happened. All I know is I never forgave ‘er. Aye, she kept comin’ back, tryin’ to make amends, but I kept pushin’ ‘er away. Eventually, she stopped tryin’. I never saw ‘er after that. And now look at me.” The jovial man scowled so fiercely, Heinrich feared Stickbeard’s remaining teeth would shatter. “Dyin’ in this miserable place, alone but fer a few people who managed to hang around long enough to see the end.” His eye closed as he leaned his head back, as though the rant had sapped his strength. “I don’t mind dyin’,” he said quietly. “I just wish I didn’t have to go knowin’ I gave up the only thing worth more than candy.”
The room fell silent. The younger man no longer saw the pirate. Memories of his own were playing behind pale eyes; memories he had deliberately buried. Memories of a time in his life, and a girl who had been more precious than any treasure they’d even dreamed of finding. As the memories danced across his mind, the hole in his heart began to ache, calling for the missing piece, craving something more than the rarest candies.
Heinrich pushed away from the table. “I… I haff to go.” The ache clawed at him, mutating into a violent desperation.
“Aye.” Stickybeard’s eye never opened as Heinrich walked passed. “By the way,” he added conversationally. “I hear thar’s a fine cotton candy harvest down in Louisiana.”
Heinrich paused at the door, too relieved to note the pirate’s abrupt change in manner. “Sank you.”
Three weeks later, a couple entered the same inaccurately-themed sitting room and pushed open the door to the same bright bedroom. Stickybeard turned from an all-dessert special episode of Emeril and looked over the pair, a smirk hidden beneath his bushy beard.
“Hey, there, Stickybun.” Abby had changed very little over the years. Taller, of course, and more developed, but her hair remained in a single long braid covered by a bright red cap. A blue jersey shirt-dress covered her torso down to mid-thigh. She was still shod in white Mary Janes. The only addition was a golden band on her left fourth finder, clinging to an oversized rock, as clear and beautiful as a giant crystal of the purist sugar.
His smile grew, not only from the large box of Godiva Abby carried. “Glad ta see ye came to yer sense, lad. I expect ye to get hitch afore I go. I be wantin’ a slice of that wedding cake.”
Heinrich flushed at the mention of his approaching wedding day, but didn’t unlatch his arm from around Abby’s waist. Instead, he asked the captain something that had been gnawing on his brain ever since leaving Louisiana.
“Captain… vhat vas the name of that woman?”
A single red eyebrow rose. “Woman? What woman?”
“Za one you… lost?”
Stickybeard looked at Heinrich as though he was crazy. “Blast it all, boy, ye know I never bothered with that confounded gender. Nothing but trouble, and bad luck on a ship.”
Heinrich’s face fell blank as the awful truth sank in.
“VHAT?! You mean to say I travel across the country because of a story you made up?”
Abby perched on the edge of Stickybeard’s bed as Heinrich paced and shouted. She opened box of Godiva, offered it to Stickybeard, and took a piece for herself. The both sighed and let Heinrich rant. He’d wear himself out. Eventually.
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Post by destinyinevitable on Feb 25, 2007 5:07:21 GMT
I don't know what you were complaiing about, I loved it. One question, though - DID Stickybeard make it up, just to get Heinrich to go admit?
*high pitched squeal* Aww, they're engaged!
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Post by thesuki on Feb 25, 2007 5:07:52 GMT
He was totally making it up. Hence the casual change of attitude right before Heinrich left.
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Post by destinyinevitable on Feb 25, 2007 5:12:23 GMT
That's what I thought. I just prefer to be clear on these things. ^_^ I really did like it, though.
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Post by artgirlb [a.k.a. Numbuh 138] on Feb 25, 2007 5:15:55 GMT
Hey, that's not bad! Suki, you give yourself too little credit  |
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Post by thesuki on Feb 25, 2007 5:20:27 GMT
Probably. ^^
I put it on FF.net, anyway. Not enough 5/H stuff there.
And they really need more character options.
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Post by destinyinevitable on Feb 25, 2007 5:36:39 GMT
Second both of those. But I'd rather there be too little 5/H pieces at all then loads of OOC ones.
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Post by thesuki on Feb 25, 2007 5:38:07 GMT
Or for things to get like the Ultimate 3/4 Fanfic. Oi, I actually saw a fic with an OC named Sakura, where she, Abby, and Kuki had Manga days. |
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Post by artgirlb [a.k.a. Numbuh 138] on Feb 25, 2007 5:39:21 GMT
Was the Sakura OC a Mary-Sue?
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![artgirlb [a.k.a. Numbuh 138] Avatar](http://img252.imageshack.us/img252/1335/tommyavatarmo3.gif){kind=avatar}
