Aka. Best Person Ever
- Posts:
- 2,138
- Group:
- Elder Members
- Member
- #2,413
- Joined:
- Jul 13, 2012
|
My latest work. To be honest, I dunno about this one. I hope it works out.
A Wish For It To Rain
It was a beautiful calm Friday afternoon. The sky was a ripe blue color, not a cloud in the sky. The weather was warm with a light cool breeze. The noises that sounded in the area were a constant, yet soothing, whether it was the idle chirping of the birds or the dull hum of traffic in the background. In a cemetery, the scene was quiet, nothing moved save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the shimmering of its shadows.
An old man parked his car in the cemetery and stepped out of it. He was one of those men who were blessed with gift of graceful aging. Even at the ripe old age of fifty-six, he still had a full head of hair, even if its former blonde color had turned stark white. Though his blue eyes were framed by crow’s feet, they still had a bright luster to them and his face was still relatively smooth. His limbs were still strong, even as they grew gnarled and veined. His stature was erect and firm, portraying the vitality that still coursed through him. It was easy to see that this man was once quite handsome. He was dressed modestly, a long brow overcoat with black trousers. A classical fedora hat was firmly put on his head.
The man walked through the cemetery with purpose, for he knew where was going and who he was visiting. The confident steps he took were a testament to the fact that he had been here many times before. This was a ritual of his every Friday.
This old man was here to visit a resident of this very cemetery.
After another minute of maneuvering among the graves, he finally arrived to his destination. The man stood by the grave and took off his hat. Though he had done it a thousand times before, he read the inscription. And just like a thousand times before, he struggled to hold back a sob as he did so. Some things never change.
The gravestone was old and weathered, evidence of its long existence. An apple tree stood right next it, its branches hanging above the grave, casting a calm shadow over it.
He took a moment to dust off the top of the grave and remove some of the stray leaves that had fallen over the dirt. The old man took great care as he did this, working with the dexterity and reverence of a religious zealot. Once it was cleaned, he placed some flowers on the top of the gravestone, a small bouquet of tulips.
He sat down beside the grave, not caring whether he dirtied his clothes or not on the ground. The man clasped his hands in front of him and rubbed them as if he was trying to ward off cold. It was a nervous habit of his, one that he had never grown out of. The same nervous sensation always overcame him when he was around her, even in death, she continues to make him feel the same way.
“It’s been three years.” The old man murmured. “And believe or not, nothing has changed.”
Silence.
“Little Samantha was proposed to the other day...” he mused. “I can’t believe it. My little girl…getting married.”
He sat there a little more in silence as he continued to rub his hands.
“The boy seems nice enough, but I’m a little worried.” He went on. “But I suppose that’s how any father would feel. I just worry about my little girl.”
His head bowed down a little, he took a deep breath and sniffed. “He actually came to ask me for my blessing, y’know. Can you believe it?”
“Now before you say anything, I remembered what you used to tell me.” He said quickly. “So I took a deep breath and thought things through.”
“He’s a good kid, well mannered, has a job… treats her right. So I said yes, I was hoping you wouldn’t disagree.”
He looked at the tombstone expectantly, as if he was awaiting an answer. After two minutes of waiting, nothing happened, so the old man simply bowed his head in disappointment.
“No, I didn’t think you would…” He muttered. “You were always so…” His voice broke. He took a moment to steady himself.
“I’ll be visiting soon.” He said. “But not now…not now.”
With a deep breath, he got up and put on his hat, setting it low over his eyes. He dusted off his overcoat and prepared to leave.
“I’ll be back next Friday.” He patted the gravestone as he left.
Tears began to fall along the old man’s face. He tried to wipe them away, he tried to hide them but to no avail. They fell, uninhibited, and stained his cheeks. The old man was ashamed of himself, not being able to hide his own tears or stave them away.
The old man gazed up at the clear blue sky with not a cloud in sight. For the thousandth time, he wished for the sky to rain.
|
Aka. Best Person Ever
- Posts:
- 2,138
- Group:
- Elder Members
- Member
- #2,413
- Joined:
- Jul 13, 2012
|
WOW it's been a long long long time since I posted here. I blame life. To make up for it, here's this.
I dunno how many people read it. My guess: zero
Anyway, this is a short story that I wrote using LoL as my inspiration.
A Summoner's Vengeance “And in latest news, Demacia lost its last battle against Noxus on the Summoner’s Rift. We now go to our Chief League Analyst, Brock Holt.”
“Thanks Maggie. The battle against Noxus was quite one-sided with the enemy Tristana and Taric really shining through in that match. The greatest let-down was the allied Wukong, who all around preformed quite poorly, something we aren’t used to seeing from him.”
“Let’s go for some replays.” The screen behind the newscaster froze, displaying an overhead shot of Tristana and Taric in the bottom lane, with Wukong hiding in the brush, waiting for a chance to strike.
“If you look here, you can see Wukong placing himself quite poorly as he prepares to engage on Tristana and Taric. He places himself behind the enemy minions, not only putting himself in harm’s way, but cutting him off when he needed to retreat. “ The newscaster presses a button, making the still shot begin to move in slow motion. “Wukong tries to jump and use his signature Cyclone technique, but he’s quickly shut down by Taric and stunned, Tristana proceeded to rip him to pieces, but oddly enough Taric gets the last hit in.”
“This play, among others is what lead to Wukong’s disappointing performance and contributed to the loss of the team. Back to you, Maggie.”
Neras angrily threw his remote control at the TV, he had been fuming throughout the entire news broadcast, and his had anger had finally culminated in that final statement. Now his remote was lying on the floor.
“Bullshit!” He burst out. “It wasn’t my fault, our team was horrible. Our Amumu was pathetic, and Caitlyn missed her headshot twice. But no, everyone blames me.”
He got up and went to the kitchen. He poured some milk in a cup and trudged over to retrieve his remote from the floor and threw himself back on the couch, flipping through channels while he sipped on the milk. He tried to push away the memories of his last disastrous game, but it wasn’t easy. League matches were the highlight of Valoran evenings, and the results of such matches were plastered on every channel, with each one of them analyzing and commenting in their own way. But different as they were, they agreed on two things, Wukong had performed poorly, and Taric was the one to blame.
“Fucking Taric, he ruined my game.”
It didn’t help that Taric’s face was plastered on every television screen, the countless fangirls who spoke his name in bated breath, or even worse, the constant media coverage of the man. One would imagine that people had better things to do than follow Taric and spread rumors. How cares what he did that one afternoon? Who cares how much he spent on his clothes? Media coverage is a constant in any champion’s life, of course, League champions become immediate celebrities the moment they are accepted, doomed to be hounded by people and cameras alike, but Taric was one of the worst. His deadly combination of style, appearance and strength make him a celebrity heavyweight.
Neras was so caught up with his thoughts that he barely noticed the TV that was still blaring in the background. “And now we return to Entertainment Nightly!” A blonde lady said. “After his amazing performance in the latest match, we reached out to Taric for an interview, but he remains tight-lipped. There’s no denying it, Taric is a tough nut to crack; his life remains much of a secret. We’ve known him for so long, but still we know little. Just who is this man we know as Taric?”
“Still even his silence hasn’t stopped the rumors from spreading, particularly concerning his ambiguous sexuality. Others even go so far as to speculate of a secret relationship between our sexy explorer Ezreal and Taric. We may never know.”
Neras paused for a second, and then stood up suddenly, his face lighting up in glee, like a great idea had suddenly struck him. *** “So. You want to follow Taric and get solid evidence proving he’s homosexual.”
“Yep.”
Wukong leaned back on his nimbus cloud, giving Neras a deadpanned look. The two of them were in the forests right outside the Institute of War, where Wukong was commonly found. Neras summoned Wukong quite a bit, so the two had grown familiar with each other. Neras had come to the forest hoping to find Wukong and share his plan with him. Wukong had been busy training on a wooden stump.
“Why?”
Neras’ eyes lit up. “Think about it! We could make millions if we get some hard proof and sell it to the papers!”
“I don’t care for money.” Wukong replied dryly.
“Then how about teaching Taric a lesson; he deserves it after what he did to us.”
Wukong scowled. “That’s dishonorable. Every mistake is a lesson, that’s what Master Yi said.”
“I don’t care what Master Yi said!” Neras shot back. “Do you see anyone summoning him lately?”
“Actually-“
“No!” Neras continued quickly. “He’s a wash-up, no one summons him anymore!”
Wukong’s eyes narrowed, he didn’t take kindly to the belittlement of his Master. He got off his nimbus cloud and began twirling his staff absentmindedly. “I’ll beat him on the field of battle…honorably.”
Neras threw his hands in the air in desperation. He began to walk off when another idea hit him.
“Okay, I can respect that.” Neras said as he walked off. “You want to beat him fair and square, that’s cool.”
He smiled slyly. “I suppose I’ll just ask Jax to help me, the undefeated champion, I’m sure he’d be able to do it.”
Wukong stopped abruptly, hitting himself on the head with his staff. He looked at Neras with a horrified look on his face. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.” ***
Neras crouched behind some bushes in the crowded streets of Demacia. It was midday, so everyone was out to run their daily errands and such. According to the tabloids, this was when Taric was usually sighted. Neras and Wukong had perched themselves right outside a café that was reported to be a favorite of Taric’s, it was the perfect place to find him. Wukong was sitting in a nearby tree, scanning the passerby for any sign of Taric.
“I see him!” Wukong called down to Neras. “Here he comes!”
“Wait till he enters the café!”
The two of them remained completely quiet as they watched Taric approach the café and enter. With him gone, Wukong slid down the tree to crouch next to Neras.
“Now what?” Wukong said.
Neras smiled. He pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. He unfolded it to reveal a picture of Ezreal. “I’ve put this on his usual table. If he really does have the hots for Ezreal, then he won’t hesitate to take the picture, or at the very least, stare it lustily.” He then pulled out a camera. “We take a picture and profit.” Wukong scratched his chest like he always does. “And how do you know this’ll work?”
“Trust me, it’ll work. Ezreal is one the hottest male champions in the League. No one can resist him.”
Wukong stared at him. “You sure you aren’t gay?”
“It’s called a man crush.” Neras replied, a bit quicker than needed. “Shhhh, look, he got it.”
The two of them fell silent as they watched Taric notice the picture. He seemed to pick up the picture and look around, as if he was searching for the person who had left it there. He looked at the picture with a confused look on his face.
“He’s staring at it!” Neras whispered excitedly. “Ha! I knew it!”
Wukong didn’t reply; he was too focused on Taric. After a moment of apparent thought, Taric crumbled up the paper and set it aside. Neras’ jaw dropped.
“What?! B-but...”
Wukong sat back. “I guess he doesn’t care for Ezreal after all.” He mused.
“Dammit. I should’ve known. I should’ve used Jayce, everyone has got the hots for Jayce.”
“This is a waste of time.”
Neras’ head shot up, an angry expression on his face. “No! I’m not leaving without proof.” Wukong sighed. “Fine, what do you want to do now?”
“We’re going to follow him. He might be good at hiding his personal life, but he’ll expose himself eventually.”
Wukong was silent, he got and jumped up into the tree and sat there quietly. Neras huffed angrily, he was beginning to wonder why he even brought Wukong with him at all. The monkey king wasn’t usually this uptight; he was often energetic, quick to laugh, quick to joke and could never stand still. Neras wondered what was up with him. The two of them continued to stalk Taric through the day, following him as he walked through the city and conducted his business, from his endorsement dealings in the middle of town, to his casual strolling among the shops. Though Neras and Wukong kept a close eye on him the entire time, they still couldn’t get any solid proof to back their claim. By the end of the day, Neras was bored, tired and sick of walking around. He flopped down onto a bench to rest. Wukong landed gracefully from an overhead tree onto the bench railing, balancing there.
“Crap.” Neras finally said. “A whole day of walking and nothing to show for it.”
Wukong scratched his head. “You were the one who got all excited when you saw him pick up the pink shirt.”
“Well, that was suspicious!”
“No, it wasn’t.”
Neras fell silent. He sat there for a long time, not speaking a word, before he finally broke his silence. “If we can’t get proof… maybe we can make proof.”
Wukong nearly fell of his perch. “What?”
“Oh come on, the media does it all the time.” Neras murmured. “Lies, facts…news, it’s all the same. They wouldn’t care to ask for our proof, we just make something up.”
Wukong’s widened in surprise. “Absolutely not! That’s pathetic!”
Neras shrugged. “I’ll do i-“ He stopped, looking to the distance. “It’s the cops, bail!” He yelped, right before he leaped into the bushes behind him.
Wukong was too surprised to even react; he sat there idly as Caitlyn walked over. She had an annoyed look on her face as she approached them.
“Get out of the bushes, I know you’re in there.”
Neras slowly stood up, his hands raised.
“We’ve been getting witnesses saying that you’ve been following Taric.” Caitlyn said. “What do you want with him?”
Neras blanched. “I-I-I…uh. N-nothing, officer. We were just…um.”
“Wukong back me up here.” He whispered from the corner of his mouth. He nudged Wukong with his elbow.
Suddenly, Wukong’s body exploded in a puff of smoke, when it cleared there was no trace of the monkey king. Neras blinked.
“DAMN YOU, WUKONG.”
Caitlyn was not amused. “Right, let’s talk some more at the precinct.”
Meanwhile, Wukong was watching from high up in a tree. He bit into a pear as he watched the show, a look of glee apparent on his face.
“Never liked the guy anyway.” He chuckled as he bit into the fruit.
“Hey Wukong!”
The monkey king stopped laughing and looked down below. “Why hello there, Taric.” He threw the unfinished fruit aside and jumped down to face Taric.
Taric shifted his weight, putting his hands in his pockets. “I owe you one.”
Wukong waved his hand airily. “Not to worry.” He flashed a grin to Taric. “I wanted to beat you on equal terms. I couldn’t let him ruin your focus, now could I?”
Taric didn’t reply immediately. “Well thanks anyway.”
Wukong ignored him. Once again, his body erupted in a plume smoke, revealing his decoy once again. A monkey-like laugh rang out from above, the familiar laugh of the monkey king.
“Next time, Taric!” The voice called out.
Taric frowned. “Typical.” He turned and walked off.
|