blast from the past

I've been sifting through all my old files today when I came across some of the short stories/fanfic i wrote a long time ago. Most are unfinished since I had a habit of starting sporadically, sometimes in the middle of the night, in the middle of a lecture in class, anywhere a plot/sub-plot would pop up in my head and I'd stop (literally) to write down an outline of how a scene would go. What's bad about this writing habit is that I'd have so many ideas about different stories that I'd leave one and jump on to the next never really concluding anything.. Well, except for the Ardent Souls trilogy that I have no soft copy of. The hard copy seems to be missing in my piles and piles of junk and I have no plans of transcribing because it is my longest written story and it will take me years. Anyway, here's a story I meant (as in intended to) to be hosted as an interactive story but never truly materialized. So to all of you who were once fan fiction followers, you'd probably understand where this came from..



started: 21 feb. 2001
title: none yet ( but i'll get to that) =)


*chapter 1*

"Unca Dave nooo!" came the almost muffled and giggly voice of Angela who wedged herself between me and the kitchen counter. I just about dropped the pitcher of juice i had actually intended to put back in the refrigerator when she came followed by Mr. Immature himself, Dave.

Dave continued tickling Angela, making her squirm in her already awkward position behind my legs. "You can run but you can't hide!!" Dave threatened.

"Aaaaaah! Unca Kwint! Unca Kwint!" screamed Angela, her grip wrinkling my pants. I put the pitcher on the counter and motioned for Angela to release my legs. I gave Dave this annoyed look. When will he start acting like his age? He's what, 18, just like me yet he insists on acting like the baby of the group still.

"Dave cut it out, ok?" I picked up Angela and took her in my arms. "Come here, sweetie," i told her. She wrapped her arms around my neck and buried her head in my shoulders, nuzzling softly.

"Clint you're no fun," Dave said.

"You know it's way past this girl's bedtime," i replied, rubbing Angela's back gently. I could feel her breathing rhythmically and knew she was probably on the verge of falling asleep.
"Is she asleep yet?" i asked Dave who walked behind me to see.

"Yeah ... almost," he said in almost a whisper.

"Oh. I better take her upstairs then." I walked towards the stairs where i was greeted by a rather in a hurry Bob who by the way had to brake as fast as he could when his senses had told him i was carrying a sleeping child. "Whoa."

"Whoa to you too. You almost gave me a heart attack!" he shot back, still panting.

"Shh ... you don't want to wake her do you?" I asked, knowing all too well how hard it is to make Angela go back to sleep once awakened by one stupid move.

"Well sorry, I was just looking for dad."

"He's in the living room watching news, why?" I asked.

"Phone. It's Scott."

My face changed in disbelief. Bob rushed to clarify. "Not our Scott. It's some guy from Weiner ..." his vioce trailed off as he started walking to the living room.

Scott. Wow. I haven't really heard that name for a while now ... except when it's just the three of us in the room and feel like remembering the old times ... the band ... the old life. Dad and Sheila never really talked about him much. At least, not directly in our faces. And sometimes it makes us think that maybe they know something they're not telling us about. That's something we can't help, right?

I went up to Angela's room which used to be the den at the end of the hall and placed her gently down the bed. She moaned quietly but slowly went back to her slumber. I then tucked her under the sheets but instead of leaving like i usually did, i just sat there and watched her.

She was so much like her father ... the same heart-shaped hairline ... that same almost translucent skin tone ... those blue blue eyes.

I closed my eyes and thought how much Scott is missing.

What's taking him too long anyways? He knows where to find us. He knows. Why can't he stop being so stubborn and just come back? If Dad and Sheila had any clue as to where Scott had gone, why would they let him be alone there, wherever that is? That's kind of pointless, right? So maybe they're just clinging onto the fact that he is still alive and has no desire to go home anytime soon. But I mean, isn't soon such a blurry thing? It's like saying it's any period between now and the end of time.

That phone call is all we have. Just one nasty phone call ...

--------------------------

"Scott? Scott? Is that you?"
"Yeah it's me ..."
"Where are you? Tell me Scott, we're all so worried and--"
"Well um ... i ... i really can't say, Clint ... Angela ... is she alright?"
"She's ok. Where--"
"Can you do me a favor, Clint. Please ...?"
"Um ... yeah, of course."
"Take care of my little girl. Just promise me that, Clint."
"Ok ... ok, i promise. But you have to tell me where you are."
"Don't worry about me. I think I'll be okay ... just tell the rest not to worry ... that i'm fine
..."
"No Scott, please we need to know where--"
"I really have to go now, Clint ..."
"No, wait! Don't hang up on me Scott ... please ..."
"Bye."
"Sco--"
"..."
more coming up ...