Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]


Welcome to Writers Realm!
This is a community dedicated to writing, what it takes to be a writer. Anyone can join! We'd love to see you around the site. Take part in our writing discussions, give feedback on stories posted and maybe share some of your own! But don't think you have to be a writer to join Writers Realm - there are plenty of other forums. Take part in a club or play a forum game with us. We're all friendly and we'd love to welcome you into our community!
Click here to register! Completely free of charge.

Username:   Password:
Add Reply
Meeting; Cowboy Bebop fanfiction
Topic Started: Sep 21 2008, 11:13 AM (605 Views)
Icey
Member Avatar
Let's play a love game, play a love game...
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
This is a revamp of an old Cowboy Bebop fanfic I did a few years ago. One shot with no real plot, just a little interaction in the Bebop universe. It makes more sense if you are familiar with the anime, but it's not necessary. For those who know the series, it's pretty obvious that I'm a Spike fan. :]

Enjoy.


_________


Mars is an interesting place to be. Even in this protected bubble, the seasons change. In an effort to escape the cold autumn air, I try to find shelter, weaving through crowds, escaping to a building that hosted two night clubs, two as different as night and day.

The downstairs club had a name once, I think. Graffiti covers every blank wall space. People mosh and rave to the music the DJ provides. Caught up in the high-energy frenzy, I join in with the dancing, spinning a glow stick someone dropped. I gather more glow jewelry until I glow just like the flashing strobe lights. But this isn't where I want to be. I slowly make my way through the mass of sweaty, dancing people to find a staircase.

Curious as to where it leads to, I followed it. Between the two flights, a new atmosphere penetrates the dim interior. The heavy bass of the music below slowly fades into something quieter, something more sensual. The slow sound of a saxophone calls to me, the solo weaving around me as I climb higher, away from the glow sticks and pounding beat. I shed my glow jewelery as I climb higher. The neon lights do not seem appropriate here.

It's quieter on the second story. This club is not any emptier than the first. People talk and laugh at tables set up around the room, occasionally shouting to get someone's attention. There is the sound of glass sliding on wood as the bartender fills orders. The air is hazy with fog from the fog machine on stage and the cigarettes in hands or ashtrays.

On stage, a man sits on a worn, wooden stool. He plays his saxophone with the grace that comes from years of practice and knowledge. The man's hair is long and he has an ethereal beauty about him – it is difficult to place his sex at first, but despite his feminine features, he is clearly male. The song he plays is a reflection of him, beautiful and somehow haunting, a warning of something dark on the horizon.

Turning away from him, I see another man sitting alone at a far table. He stands out because he is alone, while others are in couples or groups. An extra chair at his table suggests he is waiting for someone. To reserve the seat, he has thrown his dark jacket over the chair. He holds a rose in his hands. The rose seems oddly dwarfed in his hands despite being perfectly formed, perfectly bloomed. The color of the petals is strikingly similar to the color of his eyes. But...no, his eyes are two different colors, one scarlet, one maroon. It is not a trick of the light. Even from where I stand, clear across the room, I can see the difference. And even in the dim light, his eyes shone with an unusual brightness, resembling that of a cat's. This man with the mismatched eyes seemed to be watching something or someone who is not here, reaching for what is not in sight. Remembering something from long ago, in a past as hazy as the surrounding room is. And I find that I cannot stop watching him.

He holds up the rose and examines the way the light shines through the petals for a moment. As he lowers the delicate flower, his eyes slice across the room, quick and subtle, barely even noticeable – and lock on mine.

I feel my face grow hot and my eyes widen as his stare hold mine. His eyes were oddly hypnotizing, catching me off guard. Recognition flickers across those mismatched eyes for a moment, as if seeing something familiar in me. Then he jerks his head to the side, a subtle invitation. I am suddenly shaky as I walk across the room to him, as if caught doing something I should not have been doing. Hopefully, he would not harass me about staring at him.

Up close, his gaze is more intimidating. This man has seen things, terrible thing no one should have to see. And up close, I see the reason why his eyes are mismatched. One eye is real while the other is not. A cybernetic imitation of what was once there. Both focus intently on me.

“You got a staring problem?” he asks softly.

I gasp softly as a chill runs down my spine. “N-no, sir.”

“Why are you staring at me, then?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” My reply was more defensive than I meant it to be.

A slow, easy smirk glides across his lips. He knows I am lying. “Tell me why.”

I bite my lip for a moment. Then, without really thinking, I blurt, “It's your eyes, sir. They're beautiful.”

The smirk falters and surprise crosses his face. Then something, something like sadness, appears. His voice was full of regret. “Sorry kid, but my eyes are no work of art. This one here is a fake.” He winks the cybernetic replacement at me. “Lost it in a careless accident.”

There was something he was holding back. That careless accident was more than that...but something he did not want to reveal. I did not press the matter, but insist, “They are a work of art.”

There was that sad smile again. “You know, kid, you remind me a lot of her. Something in your eyes...it's just like her.”

“Who?” I ask.

Realizing what he had said, his eyes widen for a moment. He stands up abruptly, pulling his jacket from the chair I had not bothered to occupy. He forces it on, not bothering to smooth out the yellow shirt and black tie beneath it. He seems ready to take off. But, feeling my stare, he turns back and picks up the rose he had dropped.

“Here, kid,” he says as he hands me the rose. A small smile flickers across his lips. “A pretty rose for a pretty girl.”

I blush and take the rose. Before I can say anything, he drifts out of the club, his strides long and confident, disguising the hurry he is in. I am tempted to catch up with him but he is too far ahead of me to catch up.

_________


I have returned to the club every day since then, hoping, waiting for his return. I am not sure why I return. But the man's eyes haunt me. I still see them searching for what is not there.

As a week passes, I am tempted to give up on the search. This time, as I enter, I see a woman sitting alone. Her long blonde hair pools on the worn, ruined table, shining like gold in the dim light. Her eyes, deep, dark and blue as the ocean, shine just like the man's did. There was that same sadness, the same sweeping, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, someone who is not there. A rose is in her hand as well. She holds it up to the light, just as he did. Then she buries her head in her arms and weeps, brokenhearted.
Edited by Icey, Sep 21 2008, 11:21 AM.
Posted Image

The Hallow Life | Azure Security | Digimantis
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Allyson
Member Avatar
Observer of all
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Very good. I have a few things to quote though...

Quote:
 
The downstairs club had a name once, I think. Graffiti covers every blank wall space. People mosh
Did you mean mesh, mush, or mash?

Quote:
 
The heavy bass of the music below slowly fades into something quieter, something more sensual. The slow sound of a saxophone calls to me, the solo weaving around me as I climb higher, away from the glow sticks and pounding beat. I shed my glow jewelery
’jewelry’ is how it’s spelled. :)

I'd like to say that I really like how the man and the woman both look the same...the sadness, the rose...very cool. Makes me want to read more.

Something I don't like is how there is hardly any dialogue. It makes it seem at first like she's dreaming this, or imagining it. It also seems like that because we don't know anything except there is a girl who likes to go to the club...at least give an age so we'll know how old to imagine her. :)

Other than that, good job!

Check out my deviantART page!
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Icey
Member Avatar
Let's play a love game, play a love game...
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Thanks for the feedback. :]

I did mean mosh. You know, moshing, a mosh pit? People thrashing around at a rock concert. XD

Jewelry and jewelery are both correct on my Firefox spell checker and Star Office Writer. Guess there's just different spellings, like gray and grey.

The lack of dialogue was supposed to be because the piece was more or less a way for me to expand on descriptions, since, when I first wrote this back in 2004-ish (don't remember when at the moment), I was really bland with descriptions. I wanted to keep it that way for the revamp. It kind of goes along with the style of Cowboy Bebop - there's no chit chat to fill the silence. And the girl is my version of Everygirl - that is, any girl, of any race, age, size, etc. A lot of my one-shots are like that. ^^;;
Edited by Icey, Sep 22 2008, 07:45 PM.
Posted Image

The Hallow Life | Azure Security | Digimantis
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Allyson
Member Avatar
Observer of all
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
You're welcome.

Quote:
 
Jewelry and jewelery are both correct on my Firefox spell checker and Star Office Writer. Guess there's just different spellings, like gray and grey.
Oh, ok. On Microsoft Word it said it was wrong. :)


Check out my deviantART page!
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
« Previous Topic · Fanfiction · Next Topic »
Add Reply

Theme created by Heretic/Hawtsauce and converted by Jenny of the ZetaBoards Theme Zone.