Category: fiction

Posted in fanfiction, fiction, imagination, Simple Plan, Writing

Jars of Clay – Simple Plan Fanfiction – Chapter One

Posted on by marlytheadoptee

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The ending is not the beginning repeating

Los Angeles
9th May 2014

Pierre called me. A first in a million years. I know. Exaggeration, but seriously. It’s not like we really had much to talk about in the last…lifetime. Not really. Not after all the lies. The betrayal. The hurt. Which, to be fair, wasn’t my fault. Nor his. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, really. Well, not anyone that actually mattered.

David once said to me that it was the industry that was the problem. Profound for someone who had difficulty pinning things down at the best of times. Though at the same time not surprising, since he is a creative at heart. Pierre is too. Chuck on the other hand is a more logical person and that’s why he and Pierre clashed at the moments that counted. Seb and Jeff? Well, they were, are, a mix. And, oddly they were the least effected. Or, apparently so.

Anyway… Pierre called me. Wanting to talk. About an idea he had. Oh, and the fact that it was his birthday and he wanted to catch up.

I’m thirty-five, Pat…and none of us are getting any younger… His words. And, so true. Though sometimes I feel a hundred years old after everything that’s happened.

I guess I’m not making much sense, am I? What am I even talking about? Well, perhaps I should start by saying that this is a story about a band. No. That’s wrong. It’s a story about five young men who thought they were a band. I mean, they were a band. But…it’s complicated.

Oh, and it’s my story too. Though, I’m more a bystander than anything. Pierre would vehemently disagree with that. And so would the fans. They call me the sixth member of Simple Plan. Kind of them…and not something I take lightly.

I see myself more as the person who’s here to tell their story. Makes sense, right? I was their web guy, and merch guy, and videographer, before they went all pro…well, before management pushed me out. I’m not bitter. Many would say I’d be entitled to the emotion. I gather they just didn’t want me looking too closely. Not that they needed to worry about me.

Pierre Bouvier was the crack in the perfect vessel that the Label had created…

* * *

I was telling you Pierre called me, and I never did get to the point, did I? Well, we talked about banal things, as you do. And then Pierre dropped the bombshell.

Chuck and I are getting together to write songs.

I’m still trying to get my head around that.

The traffic right now is going slow as I sit here on the highway. However, it’s still going faster than my brain. I’m on my way to Pierre’s to find out what the Hell is going on. I don’t even want to hazard a guess… it’s too shocking if I’m going to be completely honest about it.

My phone buzzed at me. Shifting gears and checking my Bluetooth connection, I answered with a grunt.

“Where are you?” Pierre.

“Stuck in traffic, dude.” I grimaced at the long line of cars ahead of me, no end in sight. “I’ll be there when I can…”

“Get some beer; David just rocked up in a complete mess.” Pierre sounded distracted, which wouldn’t be surprising if what he said was true.

“David’s in L.A.?” I said and shook my head, squeezing the steering wheel.

“Yeah. He lives here, remember?”

I scratched my cheek as I finally passed the tollbooth. “I didn’t forget. He was away.”

Pierre scoffed and said, “Right. Well, see you soon.” He hung up after that and I heaved a sigh as I continued to wait for the traffic to move.

* * * * *

A million years later… well, again, not really… and I could see the apartments where Pierre lived with his special girl. No, he hasn’t a girlfriend. I’m referring to Delilah his Chihuahua. I sat for a moment in the guest parking chewing over what I was likely to witness. And as I sat there a beat up rental pulled up next to me, and a familiar bald scalp came into view. I blinked then rolled down my window.

“Stinco?”

Jeff halted next to my window and smiled as he said, sounding equally as surprised, “Pat? Did Pierre call you too?”

I nodded as I got out of my car. “He tell you what he’s up to?”

“Yeah, and I don’t get it. But, guess we’ll find out what’s doing, eh?”

Slapping my palms together, I felt like my head was going to fall off my shoulders as I made my way for the entrance.

Pierre was standing there. He must’ve seen us pull into the parking bays.

“Dude, where’s the beer?”

I groaned, shaking my head and slapping him on the shoulder as I walked past him. “Hi to you too, Pierre.”

He half smiled as he tapped his fist to Jeff’s. “Took your time.”

I rolled my eyes as I took the stairs to his floor two at a time; his statement wasn’t even worth a response. And, I really just wanted to get this over with. Whatever this even was.

“And you couldn’t even get the beer.”

Stopping at the top of the stairs, I turned to face him, feeling this sudden wave of anger rush through me. Irrational, I know, but I had just driven for God knew how long to find out what the Hell he was up to and I was in no mood to be treated as if this was some normal visit.

His pupils dilated as he must’ve seen some of what I was feeling flash across my face.

“Fuck you, Bouv. I didn’t come over here to be nagged.” Pierre recoiled at my words, opening his mouth to protest; but I didn’t let him get a word in. “If you want me to stay, you could at least be civil.” I turned and stomped into his apartment, not realising a shocked David was standing just by the door.

I only realised when he was suddenly wrapped around my shoulders and his too loud voice was in my ear.

“Hey, dude! Dude! You’re finally here!”

I smiled as I managed to extricate myself from his arms and turned to face him. David hadn’t changed, much. His hair was longer, though. And he looked older. But, didn’t we all?

“David.” I couldn’t really think of anything to say, so just nodded at him. He didn’t seem fazed, though, grinning at me before spinning on his heels and heading further into the apartment.

I followed him into a spacious living room, dominated by the grand piano that Pierre had purchased in a fit of passion a couple of years earlier. I remembered asking him why he bothered. He just shrugged and said he thought it looked cool…

David plopped himself down on the bench, kicking his feet out.

“Been a long time, man.”

I nodded as I remained standing in the middle of the room. “Yeah, I never did call you.” And I felt bad about it.

“You were hurt as much as the rest of us,” Pierre said as he and Jeff joined us. If that wasn’t the truth, I really don’t know what was. But, I believed I’d moved on from all that.

I shook my head, slowly. “It’s no excuse, though.”

Pierre clapped a hand to my shoulder and said, “Maybe not. But you always come back to us.” My brow furrowed at his words. He gave me a meaningful look as Chuck walked through the door that lead to the kitchen, carrying a case of beer.

“Hey, Pat…a little help here?”

I allowed myself a small chuckle as I went over to relieve him of his load. He heaved a sigh and smiled at me muttering his thanks. I nodded, setting the case down on top of the piano. David raised his eyebrows at me. I ignored him as I snagged a bottle and turned to face Chuck, and Pierre.

The latter was leaning against the large windows, facing away from me, his brows down over his eyes, expression dark.

“You going to talk, Bouv?” I said. His shoulders lifted as his eyes slewed toward me.

“Must think I’m crazy, Pat. After what I said.”

I smirked. “You and Chuck, writing.”

Pierre tilted his chin down. “Oui. You know how things were between us.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. A nervous gesture, I knew. He closed his eyes then said, “We’ve come a long way from the kids we were back then…”

I had to agree with that.

We were too young to know what we really wanted back then.

Too young.

Too naïve…
Posted in fanfiction, fiction, imagination, Simple Plan, Writing

Jars of Clay – Simple Plan FanFiction – Master Post

Posted on by marlytheadoptee

So, I would love to share with you one of my band fictions.  This is one I began writing last year almost a year ago.  I’m only just getting back into it as I’ve had no inspiration.  But, for some reason inspiration struck today.  So, here we go.

~~~~~~~

Jars of Clay

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The band is manufactured and the world doesn’t know it. Pierre Bouvier is beginning to become disillusioned with the charade and cracks are beginning to show.

This story will be recounted by the band’s closest friend and confidant, Patrick Langlois, and will document the rise and fall of one of the most beloved pop punk bands in the world.

For like jars of clay, they were broken, discarded…but Pierre isn’t going to give up on them. He is going to pick up the pieces and put them back together again. To create a beautiful, real, thing.

  1. The ending is not the beginning repeating
Posted in Daniel McTavish, fiction, first person pov, my writing

The Uprising – Chapter Three – Wish

Posted on by marlytheadoptee
I asked Melissa if she could shuffle my schedule around. Told her there was somebody I needed to see. I could see the questions in her eyes, but was grateful she didn’t pry. Though, I could’ve told her…she knew Elliott after all.

Everyone knew him. The quiet, ruthless guy who got the job done.

I know I’ve spoken about him before. But, there is this thing you need to understand about Elliott. He was always where I needed him to be. In the down times, in the times of celebration. Just there. Like some kind of shadow. Even when I least expected him to be available. Even when it would’ve been better for him if he wasn’t around.

But, coming back to what Lachlan said to me, ‘trust your instincts; those words were churning around my mind, and giving me a headache. I needed to deal with it.

Being honest with myself was a start, right? The system angered me. The law made me despondent for the future prospects of my home. None of it made any real sense; the ban on any form of music. It was a sad state of affairs, considering almost everyone had forgotten the reasons behind the ban. Except for Elliott…he remembered.

“Elliott?” He was down in the cafeteria for a change, sans firearms and making short work of a couple of sandwiches.

He glanced up on hearing my voice, putting down the sandwich that was half eaten already. He must’ve seen something on my face, because instead of making some wisecrack he stood and tugged me into a hard embrace.

“I’m okay…” I said, “They haven’t…”

Elliott released me, brow furrowing as he said, “They’re going to. Then where will you be?”

I sighed, taking the seat next to him. “He has to face the consequences of his actions.”

“You don’t agree with that.”

I twisted my lips. “Everyone’s assuming that, lately.”

“You don’t. I know you.” His pointed look was too close.

Sighing, I leaned back on the chair. “Lachlan said much the same.” I looked sideways at him. “He hasn’t done anything that warrants execution.”

Elliott nodded as he took a swig of his beer. “So, what’s the deal then?”

I started shaking my head; the scowl he sent my way gave me pause, the seed of a thought planted in my mind. I didn’t know whether I wanted to put words to it, though. It was dangerous thinking. But, I couldn’t deal with Lachlan’s execution. And if I could do something about it…

Who was I kidding? I was down here, seeing Elliott, for a reason. Apart from him being the main bounty hunter in the City, he also had a few other tricks up his sleeve. Working under the radar was the norm for him, and the City turned a blind eye. That could work for me.

“By the way, thanks for ditching me,” Elliott said, drawing my attention back to him.

“What?”

He picked at the cheese on his plate. “I had to deal with the idiots on my own. Pips was out of it.”

Right. His brother. Crap, I was meant to be there for him. Though I figured I could be excused, since I had Lachlan to worry about. I murmured an apology. He waved me off.

“Come over and buy us drinks,” he said, with a flash of teeth.

My lips twitched, because it was so like him to think that was a good way to apologise for something. He never asked for much. Gave a lot. Considering his profession maybe that wasn’t so surprising.

Elliott said, “You have a break, right?”

“Let me check with Melissa.”

Elliott, laughing, said, “She’s not your mother, Danny. Just come over.”

I nodded. “We’ll see.”

“Yeah. So, what’re you going to do about Lachie?”

Turning away from him, I scanned the cafeteria, noting that we were the only people present. In hindsight, Elliott must have chosen this particular time to be down here. No one else around to hear us. And, he had the patience of a saint. I knew he’d wait me out, no matter how long it took for me to get my head in the game. Which, if I was being honest with myself, was only a matter of flicking a switch in my mind.

Easier said than done, though.

Being part of The Creed since my teens, I had a lot of stuff ingrained in me that even if I stopped agreeing with it, forcing myself to act in contradiction to my training would be difficult.

“I’m not one to defy the status quo,” I said, breaking the quiet that started setting in. Elliott’s answering snort set me on edge. “Elliott. I’m really not.”

Elliott’s eyebrows twitched. “If that’s the case, Tav, you should get up and walk away.”

I didn’t move, instead pulled out my phone to switch it off, coming to a decision. “I need you.”

I think if I was the type to make wishes, now would be the time that a wish was granted. In hindsight, Elliott had probably been waiting a long time for me to get to this point. To come see him, and admit that there was something fundamentally wrong with our situation.

Becoming the T-One…that was a huge thing for me; maybe more so, considering that placed a lot of power in my hands and the ability to change things. Even with all the risks involved…

Elliott tilted his head, brows furrowed. “Tell me.”

Posted in fiction, first person pov, my writing

The Uprising – Chapter Two – Woods

Posted on by marlytheadoptee

The Astor, Maximum Security Penitentiary. Grimmest place in Valoren City. Built in the sixties to house every kind of criminal imaginable. The whole place is maximum security. Under lockdown every night and the prisoners are kept in tiny cells that you couldn’t even swing a cat in.

The rules are stringent. There’s no room for leniency in this prison. The law is tough on those who are incarcerated. They lose all their rights when they step inside this place.

To be honest it gets me down.

This whole gig does.

But, it’s all I know.

“Commander?” Melissa.

Let me tell you about Melissa Briar. Honour roll student at Valoren City College. Graduated with a GPA of 4.0. Big chip on her shoulder. Blonde. Not in that way, see Honour roll student point above. Pouty lips, bedroom eyes. Though I’d never try getting her into bed. Her father would shoot anyone who tried that on. Takes shit from no one. Great at getting my shit together. Nothing like her father.

Doesn’t like me.

I nodded to her as she met me at the check-in point. She looked sharp as usual, her blouse looking crisp and ironed. Yes, I noticed that, not a crime is it? I iron my shirts. Being neat is important.

“What’s the plan?”

She lifted an eyebrow before scanning the clipboard that she was holding. “You get to speak with Prisoner seventy-seven before his last rites are read to him.”

Clenching my jaw, I said, “I was meant to be the one to make the decision regarding his sentencing.”

Melissa’s eyes actually softened as she said, “The General thought it best you didn’t.” It was unsettling to say the least that her father would think that. I wasn’t one to let people see my weaknesses. But, considering Lachlan was now on death row…

Squaring my shoulders and nodding to her, I made my way to the interrogation chamber.

Lachlan was already there. I paused at the door, looking through the one-way window. He didn’t look worried, in fact he was gazing up at the ceiling, one leg casually crossed across the other.

Pushing open the door, I strode into the room, expecting him to look my way. But, his gaze didn’t shift.

“G’day, Tav,” he said, his eyes flickering toward the mirror on the wall. It was the one-way window; we both knew that. Melissa would be on the other side, monitoring our conversation.

I sat on the edge of the desk, without speaking. I wanted him to look at me. Stupid, really. But, it wasn’t as if I wanted us to be in this position. If I could guess his motivation…if he’d tell me what it was he actually did. Because, you can bet whatever he was charged with wasn’t the full story…

“I want out of the City.”

I blinked. “Come again?”

Lachlan slewed his eyes in my direction. “I wasn’t planning on getting arrested, Tav. Was just trying to earn a buck or two so I could get out of here.” He sighed, leaning forward to tug at his shoelaces. “You shouldn’t have to be witness to this.”

“I’m the T-One now,” I said, brow furrowing.

Lachlan slapped his hand against his thigh and said, “Screw that. They’re going to inject me with poison. You shouldn’t have to see that.” I shifted to avoid his laser-glare.

“I’ve seen plenty of executions.” As if that helped any. Lachlan was…

“We’ve known each other a long time, mate,” he said. “Remember that big eucalyptus I tried to climb back when we were kids?”

I nodded; that was indicative of how crazy we were back then. Running around, getting into trouble as kids did. Not a care in the world. But, we were innocent back then. We let the adults do the worrying. That was us now, though. Adults…in control of our lives. Hah.

“You broke both your arms, you idiot.”

“You broke your leg.”

“Yes. Well. That was then, Mr Douglas. This is where we are right now.” I had to get this back on a more formal footing. “I want to know what the Hell you thought you were doing.”

One of those deafening silences filled the space then. It was unnerving. I had to break it.

“Lachlan…”

His eyes were dark when they met mine. “This society’s gone to the dogs, Daniel. They might as well just shoot everybody. I mean, have you ever wondered what’s missing?”

“What’s missing?”

“Yes,” Lachlan said with a brittle smile. “Look. How do we celebrate things?”

I blinked. “Uh…we hold a gathering and give a few speeches, and toasts…”

“Right. Is it joyous?”

“Celebrations are happy occasions. Yes.”

Lachlan shook his head. “That’s not what I’m asking, Tav. Is there joy? I don’t mean everyone smiling and clapping politely. I mean…people going crazy. Jumping, laughing, dancing…”

My stomach clenched, because I knew what he was getting at; didn’t want to admit it, but I knew. “Mr Douglas, you are walking a fine line…” I tried to keep my tone hard. He wasn’t even fazed, that glare still evident.

“Music, Daniel. Is there any music?”

I stood at the challenge in his voice. “Lachlan Douglas, it is bad enough you’re going to be executed, I do not need to hear this.”

He leaned back on the chair, tilting his chin up, lips drawn as white lines etched themselves on either side of his nose. “You know it’s the right question, Tav.”

My hands shook; clenching them didn’t help. “Music is forbidden in the City, Lachlan.”

His lips twitched upwards, as he said, “Guess you can figure out what I was doing then, you wanker.”

Slamming my hand down on the desk, I made myself jump; Lachlan jerked on the chair, pupils dilating.

“Do you think this is a joke, Lachlan? They’re going to kill you. I can’t…” My words ran out. I couldn’t stand here and watch him act as if everything was fine and that he wasn’t going to die in less than a day or so. Sure, he was brave. Bravest person I knew, considering. But, even he had to be scared.

Lachlan’s voice was softer when he spoke again, so I had to stop my internal monologue to hear what he said. “I’m pretty damn serious, something’s gotta give. We can’t keep going the way we are.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’ve been trying to make people aware of what’s really going on. The oppression. The keeping down of the man. Because, that’s what it’s really all about.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “Not about music?”

Lachlan’s answering snort was enough of a response to that question, but he said, explaining, “Banning music was a way to control the citizens. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“And, you don’t agree with that.” Not a question.

“Neither do you, Commander.”

Pinching at the bridge of my nose, I didn’t respond to his statement. “Do you have anything you want to say, before…?”

“Before I kick the bucket?” Lachlan lifted his shoulders. “I wanted to get out into the woods.”

“What?”

“Out of the City, Tav. See the rest of the world. Guess I won’t get to do that now.”

I frowned. “No one’s allowed-”

“Outside the City walls. I know that.” His eyes seemed to glaze over, as if he were looking right through me.

Something inside of me bled for him. Lachlan wasn’t one for being cooped up like a chicken in a pen. And, I didn’t mean just being here in prison. I don’t think Valoren City was big enough for him. But, he was born here, as was every other citizen. Then we all worked here until we died. That was just the way things were. No one ever left the City.

However, if there was anyone likely to try it…

I leaned forward, murmuring low so Melissa wouldn’t hear, “Would you have tried to breach the walls?”

The look he gave me chilled me to the bone. His eyes darkened and his words were clipped as he answered.

“I was always planning on leaving here. Doesn’t matter to me how it happens.”

Which meant only one thing. He was resigned to his fate. And wasn’t that just a kick in the teeth. Here I was, unable to accept that my friend was about to die. And he didn’t even care.

“Lachlan…”

He sat up straight, bracing his hands on his knees. “You know what I wanna say?”

“What?” I said as I prepared to leave the room.

“Trust your instincts, Tav.”

Posted in Daniel McTavish, fiction

The Real McTavish – Chapter 1 – Pull the Other One

Posted on by marlytheadoptee

Catherine

December 2014
“Alex called.”
I blink at Daniel who’s leaning against the back of the couch, grinning from ear-to-ear.  “Alex?”
“Yeah.  He says he will look at the script.” 
He’s not making any sense, until I realise who he’s talking about.  And then I continue staring at him.  He laughs low.
“Alex O’Loughlin is going to look at the role.” 
Putting my pen down, I look at him.  “Pull the other one.”
Daniel smiles, and says, “I booked a flight to Hawaii tomorrow evening.  You’re coming with me.” 
My brain just stops for a second, then I shake my head from side to side, trying to let that sink in.  Hawaii.  Tomorrow.  To see…I stop the thought right there, frowning at him.
“I can’t just go to Hawaii with you.”
Daniel lifts an eyebrow.  “No?  You’re not currently working.  You’re my writer.  And, you deserve a holiday.”
That last is truer than I let on.  After losing my job, I’m kind of at a loss.  The other stuff, not so true.  I’m not Daniel’s anything.  We’re just friends.  He wasmarried.  But, the strain of his past caught up with them both.  Anyway…
“Well, I’ll concede the last thing.”
He smirks at me.  “I knew you would.”  He tosses a brochure at me.  “We’ll have some time for sightseeing.  Oh, and Alex said he can get us a meet and greet with the cast of Five-0.”  This last he says with a cheeky grin and a wink, before turning to walk out of the room. 
I yell after him.  “You’re evil, Daniel!”
His face reappears for a second as he says, “You love me, Cath.”
I wave him away, returning to my journaling; his soft chuckle making my cheeks warm. 
                                                            * * *
Daniel McTavish.  What do I tell you about this man?  He’s loving, kind, compassionate.  Generous to a fault.  Sure, he has his moments.  Everyone does.  But, I like to see the good in everyone.  Maybe that’s a problem?  I don’t know.  Some people would like to remind me of the shocking things that he did in his past.  But, that’s the point.  It’s history.  He doesn’t do those things anymore. 
Which I tend to point out a lot.  Daniel just tells me not to bother.  The people who matter don’t care about his past and he thinks I shouldn’t worry over it.  But, I get defensive in spite of that. 
You shouldn’t judge a person who’s changed.  Yes.  He was an assassin.  Yes.  He killed people.  But, he gave that all away.  He helps save people now.  I mean, come on.  People can change. 
But, you know.  People will always go, ‘Cath, he killed innocent people.  How can you defend someone like him?  How do you know he won’t go and do it again?’  Seriously, it scares me the prejudices some people hold. 
I guess this is the reason he wants to make a film about his life.  To set the record straight. 
Speaking of which, I should be packing.  But, Daniel isn’t making it easy.  He’s in my walk-in-robe throwing clothes at me and trying to tell me why I should take them with me.
“Cath, this’ll be cool.  You won’t sweat in this.”  Like, thanks…but you’re the one who sweats a lot, Daniel. 
He looks around the door at me, eyebrow twitching.  “Shake a leg.”
I roll my eyes.  “Maybe I should just pack my whole ‘robe, Danny?  Save you the trouble.”
He laughs and disappears again. 
I get up and poke my head around the door.  Daniel is holding two dresses in his hands, frowning.  One is a long black, loose-fitting get up; the other a floral affair. 
“Not your taste, Danny?”
He looks back at me.  “I’ve never seen you wear these.”
I snort.  “Pack them then, and I’ll wear them when we meet Alex.”
He laughs, replacing them on the rack.  “Nah.  Not you.” 
I smile a little.  Should it worry me that he knows me so well?  I’m not the dress type.  Pair of jeans and a t-shirt is more my thing.  But, maybe I should take something a little formal. 
Daniel brushes passed me.  “Come on, let’s go get something to eat.”
Or maybe not.  

Posted in Daniel McTavish, fiction, the real McTavish

The Real McTavish – Master post

Posted on by marlytheadoptee
A new idea, featuring McTavish as he originally came to me.  An experiment that will feature Alex O’Louglin but will focus on McTavish.

The first time I met Daniel McTavish was at my church about a year ago.  His story is amazing.  Unbelievable.  But, a true story.  And a testament to the fact that God can change the hearts of people in the most profound way.  

He was a hit man for the Irish Mafia, killed a lot of people on the orders of his Boss.  

He approached me about writing his story, after he’d joined the worship team and we’d gotten to know each other a little better.  I accepted, how could I not?  But, now he wants his story turned into a film.  Not for any monetary gain, but to spread the story so it can help others.  A good idea, I guess…and he says he knows who he wants to be in the film.  

I’m not sure who he could get, but he says he has the connections.  So, I trust him, though there is only one person I could see portraying him…
~~~~~

Chapter 1 – Pull the Other One
Posted in 2014, Daniel McTavish, fiction, first person pov, my writing

The Uprising – revamped version 1 – Ch 1

Posted on by marlytheadoptee


Spell

01.09.2014
The only thing on my mind right now:  How to spell Taskerone?  It used to be Tasker One.  They changed it in the early noughties to reflect the pronunciation.  I’m not sure what difference it made.  Didn’t make any difference to me as I waited to be conferred with the title.  But the thought kept me sane. 
To say I was nervous, would be some gross understatement.  Youngest T-One to ever be conferred.  The media were all over that.  Gut-wrenching to say the least.  Flashing lights and voices everywhere trying to gain my attention.  All I wanted to do was bolt and meet my best mate for a beer.  Though Elliott would be elsewhere, checking his armoury. 
My assistant, Melissa, was giving me the eye, indicating that I was not paying enough attention. 
“Commander McTavish?”
Blinking, I fought to find the owner of the voice.  Horn rimmed glasses shoving a furry microphone in my face.  That galvanised me.  Stay outta my canoe. People don’t get in my personal space.  It’s kind of a thing that is quick to set me off. 
“Yes?” Less annoyed, Tav… “I apologise, can you ask that again?”
“Prisoner seventy-seven, Commander.  What are your plans for him?”
The question was inoffensive.  I knew that.  Everyone knew that.  Lachlan Douglas was a threat to the order.  The General himself decreed it so.  I agreed.  I don’t agree…Lachlan is a childhood friend…
Forcing a smile, I said, “I will need to review his case before making a final decision.”  I caught Melissa’s eye again, and this time her gaze was somewhat approving.  One point for the new Commander. 
There was some general questions about the new structure of Council and bringing in a new curfew. It was all quite tedious and I made my escape when it was polite to do so. 
Melissa joined me out in the corridor, walking with me. 
“That went better than I thought it would, Commander.”
I reminded myself that she was the General’s daughter, counted to ten then looked sideways at her.  “It’s Daniel.”
She remained tight-lipped as she said, “The General will speak with you about Prisoner seventy-seven’s sentencing this afternoon, Commander.”
“You know you look pretty when you smile, Melissa.” I know.  Not the smartest thing to say.  She just glared at me. 
“Your friend also wanted to see you once the conferring ceremony was over.”
I sighed, thanking her with a nod and left, making my way to find Elliott.  
He was where he always was.  My room.  Bottles of beer littering the bed.  Along with his assorted firearms.  He was in the middle of cleaning his prized possession.  A sawn-off shot gun.  Ancient piece of junk.  But it still worked.  I’d seen him fire it on the range. 
“El?”
He looked up.  His eyes were blood-shot.  That was some cause for concern. 
“You right?”
Elliott set the gun down, squinting at me.  “Are you?”
Lifting my eyebrows I think was enough of an answer to last him a while.  Though I was far from all right.  Who knew what the General would say about Lachlan.  And who the Hell knew why I even gave a flying rats…
I took one of the unopened beers before parking my ass opposite him.  He continued to stare at me through his slitted eyelids before letting out a groan, which kind of sounded like somebody’s name.  But I wasn’t too sure.
“Come again, mate?”
“Pips.  Gotta pick him up.”
His brother; Pips Preston.  Or Phillip as I called him, just to annoy him. No one else called him that.  I’m guessing his parents used to.  But, they’re not in the picture anymore.
That’s another thing.  I’m crazy about names.  Proper names.  Weird names.  Hobby of mine.  Collecting names.  Should probably put that to better use, though.  Like remembering the names of all my subordinates at The Creed.  Melissa is the only one that comes to mind…
“Didn’t know he was due for release?”
Pips was a career criminal.  Surprising they were letting him go, considering he attempted to blow up Council Hall.  Insane, right?  He said it was to make a point.  Not sure I understood what his point was.  He was passionate about it, whatever it was. 
Elliott looked at me, eyebrows lifting.  “No?  Would’ve thought they’d tell you that.”
I shook my head, though I might’ve been told…probably not paying attention. 
He shrugged at me before returning to his shotgun running an oiled cloth over the barrel.  I sat, watching him in silence, and sipping from my beer. 
We spent a lot of time like this.  It was comfortable.  Talking wasn’t something I was known for.  And, Elliott always took his cues from me.  It didn’t serve any purpose, we just felt content in each other’s’ company.   Been that way since high school.  Yeah, we’ve known each other that long. 
It was odd.  No one approved of Elliott Preston. Especially not now.  He was a bounty hunter.  Law unto his own.  My best friend.  Beer buddy.  Not to make light of our relationship, we’re there for each other.  And, I guess this was another of those times.
“Want me to come with?” I said, causing Elliott to shoot a surprised look my way.
“Why?”
I lifted my shoulders, tilting my beer and watching as the golden liquid swirled in the bottom.  “Need to go down there anyway.” 
He set the gun down and leaned forward, bracing his hands on his thighs.  He said nothing though, just furrowed his brow at me.  I let my lips twist into a smile.  He huffed, his fringe flipping up a little. 
“Knock yourself out, buddy.” 

Finishing off my beer, I murmured that I’d do exactly that, before leaning my head back against the wall and closing my eyes.
Posted in 2014, Daniel McTavish, fiction, first person pov, my writing, Writing

The Uprising – revamped version 1 – Prologue

Posted on by marlytheadoptee



Beginnings

2040

Today is the tenth anniversary of our debut record.  
Legacy was a labour of love.  A lot of blood, sweat and tears, literally, was poured into the album.  And, I’m proud of what it has brought into my life and the lives of others.  It’s been a journey; from its conception to where we are today. 
It’s not been easy.  Changing the mindset of a society is difficult.  And, to think on it, I didn’t initially set out to change things.  My ideas weren’t so grandiose back when I was younger.  I was fed up with the status quo.  But, all I wanted was to bring a sense of joy back into my home. 
And music. 
Music.  Music is life’s blood.  Cliché, maybe?  But, something I believe holds true. 
A lot of people didn’t think that forty years ago…

It’s a strain, trying to get people to see where we went wrong with the laws and mores.  I’m seeing a shrink, that’s how bad it can get some days.  
The good doctor said I should write everything down.  A bit cliché, if you ask me.  I’ve read memoirs before.  Always so, dry, factual.  Not worth for anything but some dusty museum.  Though even those places are becoming extinct. 
I’m not much of a writer.  Sure, I’ve written reports.  Signed off on more than I care to remember.  I’m more an actions type of man.  Rather be doing than writing.
No, that kid, Robbie Douglas.  He’d have been the better choice.  Always scribbling away in a notebook whenever he got the chance.  I may still have them.  His notebooks.  Lachlan gave them to me for safekeeping.  That whole family…are almost my own.
But, I’m getting ahead of myself.  A story isn’t any good from the end.  Knowing only the ending doesn’t explain anything.  I learned that just by living in Valoren City. 
The walled city.  Valoren city of my father and my father’s father before that.  Not sure how many generations of McTavish’s served in this city.  Since the War of Words most definitely.  That long ago event that no one really remembers but caused a lot of unnecessary heartache in my day. 
I’ll be the last, though. 
The Creed’s being dismantled.  Gordon said that a regular police force is what the city needs.  One that actually holds justice of high import and not just the enforcing of rules.  I’m content with that idea.  Means I can relax.  Just keep an eye on the kids.
Hah.  Danny McTavish.  Babysitter.  Well, Granddaddy.  My daughter just had twins.  Boys.  Robert and Phil.  She named them in remembrance of the two toughest people we’ve ever known.  This is as much their story as it is mine.
I guess, I should really start from the beginning then.  Since I espoused that endings didn’t explain anything.  Not without beginnings. 
Everyone has a beginning to their story.  And, I don’t mean their birth.  Though that’s an important date. 
My beginning was an auspicious day.  Or it should’ve been. 

Two things happened to change that, and you could say that society has improved a lot since then.
Posted in Christmas, fiction, Writing

Christmas in Valoren City – Gordon’s Christmas

Posted on by marlytheadoptee
Let the world be still
2002
The Wilderness, Guardian’s Grove
The first candle of the season was burning with a strong flame in the window.  Gordon sat by its light, whittling away at a long wooden dowel, brow furrowed. 
“What’s that, lad?” The old Guardian, Jacob, was stoking the fire, watching him at his work.  Gordon looked over, smiling before blowing the shavings away. 
“Flute.” Holding it up to the level of his eyes, he squinted along its length.  “Gotta figure out how to hollow it out.” Gordon set it down, looking over at the old man.  “I saw pictures in the Book you gave me last Christmas, Coby.”
Jacob chuckled and said, “The Guardian before me passed it on.”
“And we are all grateful,” Gordon said, as he checked the candle. 
The sound of a mournful howl gave him pause. “Is that?”
Jacob went to the door, opening it a crack.  “The pack is on the move.” A frown passed over his features.  “There is something…” He looked back at Gordon and said, “Keep the fire burning.” 
Gordon shifted to sit by the fire as the old man slipped out the door. 
Dingos roamed the Wilderness in these days.  Though they never used to gather in packs; they were traditionally solitary beasts. However, as Gordon grew up he began to notice an increasing number of the wild dogs gathering where resources were high.  The flashes of yellowed coats were unmistakeable when he went out on forays with Jacob. 
Christmas time was when they started patrolling through the woods near the cabin, though, otherwise their usual haunts were the outer fringe. 
The fire crackled, Gordon staring into the flames as his mind wandered.  Leaping flames reminding him of earlier Christmases.  Such joy he never knew came to him at this time.  Jacob always took care to make each season as memorable as an old man could on their meagre means.  There were never any gifts, but Gordon had no need for such fleeting objects in time.  No, Jacob would take him out, both of them swaddled in furs, and they would sit on the hill where they could see the stars.  And he would tell such beautiful tales of the old times.
Gordon’s favourite tale was one of such mystery and wonder he sometimes thought it could be the truest story ever told.  An ancient tale of a saviour God who came down to dwell with the people and, through an amazing sacrifice, brought peace and goodwill to all.  In fact, the old man said it was the real reason they celebrated Christmas each year.  Gordon liked to believe that it was true.  The thought of everlasting peace was a balm for the life that he’d grown up knowing. 
Sure, he was sheltered from the life his parents faced in the City.  But, Jacob told stories of that place too.  Valoren City, the great walled city that kept The Wilderness at bay.  Gordon didn’t know what there was to fear having lived in the Wild all his life, but the old man said the City governance embellished things and put fear in the hearts of its citizens. 
And, they banned music.
Gordon shook his head at the thought just as the door set to creaking.  He cast his gaze in that direction as Jacob reappeared. 
“Lad, get the tub…need warm water.”
“What is it?” he started to ask, pausing when a soft whimpering came from a bundle in the old man’s arms. 
“Is that?”
Jacob, nodding, said, “Injured and abandoned.  Now, the water.”
Gordon got to his feet, gathering what was needed.  As he did, he watched the old man open the bundle to reveal a ball of dirt covered yellowish-white fluff.  The whimpering was emanating from within.  A Dingo pup. 
Pursing his lips he filled the tub with water from the pot over the fire then brought it over to set on the table.  He grabbed a towel on the way, handing it to the Guardian.  The he sat opposite, resting his hands on the edge of the table and waited. 
It took a while, with the pup crying the whole time, but Jacob managed to clean away the dirt and grime and then to tend to the wounds on its trembling body.  The whole time the small creature kept its snout tucked into itself so Gordon couldn’t get a good look at it. 
Jacob scooped the pup up in his arms, carrying it over to his cot where he set it down in the pile of blankets.  Gordon tilted his head to the side.
“He can sleep with me tonight.  Body warmth is what he needs.”
Gordon, smiling, said, “So, it’s a he?”
Jacob nodded as he made sure the pup was comfortable before joining him at the table again. 
“And, now, a spot of tea, lad.”
****
Later that night, Gordon woke to something snuffling in his ear.  He started then smiled as he felt something cold and wet nuzzling at his arm.  Blinking, he turned his head to the left seeing the glow of predator eyes in the low candle light.  Blinking again he fought back a laugh as he realised the pup was balancing against his bed, ears pricked up. 
He held still, allowing the inquisitive young dog to sniff at his face.  The delicate nostrils flared, as its ears set to twitching, listening to his breaths. 
Gordon took the chance to examine the pup, not ever having the chance to be close to one before.  The creamy fuzz of puppyhood made it look larger than it actually was though it was beginning to lose the softness around its face.  Large intelligent eyes watched him as he watched the pup. 
Smiling, and murmuring low so as not to spook the pup, he said, “Feeling better, pup?”
The pup stuck its nose right in his ear then he felt the wet curl of its tongue on his cheek.  Then it stuck its head down and tried to snuggle into his arms.  Gordon couldn’t prevent the laughter bubbling up in his throat, smiling as the pup tried to press close into his body. 
“Want cuddles, pup?” he said in a whisper.  “Guess we can do that.”  With care, he settled an arm around the pup’s body, smiling as it snuffled then went quiet, nostrils twitching still as it slept.  He drifted off soon after the warm body of the dingo pup like a hot water bottle chasing away the cold of the night. 
****
Gordon woke with a yelp then laughed outright when he realised why.  Needle sharp teeth nipped at his arm before the pup jumped down off the bed, trotting across the floor to sit next to the table, nose pointing upward in an expectant gesture.
Jacob, already up and stoking the fire, chuckled low.  “Tough little lad.”
Gordon rubbed at the back of his neck as he got up.  “Just like you, Coby.”
The Old Guardian, smiling, said, “Wasn’t always so tough.”
“Yeah…being Guardian changes you, right?” 
Jacob nodded as he brought a bowl over, setting it down in front of the dingo pup.  Gordon smiled more as the pup stuck its snout into the bowl, wiggling its whole body as it almost inhaled the meat in the bottom of it. 
“Well, nothing wrong with the pup,” he said. 
“Except its colouring,” Jacob murmured.  Gordon blinked, looking up at him.  “It’s unusual to see creamies.”  The old man sighed.  “They don’t do well in the Wild.”
Gordon said, frowning as he spoke, “So, it’s going to stay with us?”
Jacob looked at him, a serious light in his eyes.  “It’ll pay to have a companion.  I won’t always be here.” 
Gordon ducked his head down, continuing to watch the pup.  It walked circles around the bowl, licking it clean before flopping on its belly and looking up at him, tongue lolling out of the side of its mouth.  He smiled then looked over at Jacob.
“I’m going to finish my flute.”
Jacob, nodding, stood to take his coat down from the hook on the wall.  “I’ll catch breakfast.”
****
Gordon sat outside, whittling away at his flute, as the pup was fossicking around the bushes that lined the path.  Sticking its quivering pink nose into the brush, pulling out with a sneeze, causing a smile to flicker at the corner of his lips.  Laughter felt strange, but it was definitely welcome. 
He glanced further up the path where Jacob had gone.  One day he would be the one to do the hunting and the watching.  When the old man’s time came.  Gordon, sighing, set his knife down and sighted along the flute again.  Dusting his fingers along it he allowed a small smile again as he deemed the instrument ready to test out.
“Hey, pup.  Listen to this.”
The dingo pricked up its ears as he set his lips to the flute and began to blow across the hole.  Tilting its head to the side and giving a low huff the pup didn’t seem too impressed before sitting back on its haunches, lifting its head and howling for the first time.  Gordon couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.  He set the flute down, cupping his hands around his mouth to imitate the young dingo. 
Then he stopped as Jacob appeared at the top of the track, a brace of pheasants slung over his shoulder.  The pup’s nose set to twitching as it too took note of the wild birds. 
“Breakfast,” Jacob said, with a grin.  Gordon jumped up, heading inside to get the fire ready, the pup trotting in behind him.
****
Sucking on his fingers Gordon cleaned the juices of the pheasant breast from them, before looking up at the old man.  Jacob met his gaze, lifting an eyebrow. 
“Do they celebrate Christmas in the City?” A question that was forever niggling at his mind.
Jacob nodded.  “Yes.  But, it’s a solemn affair.  And no music, of course.”
Gordon shook his head, gaze drifting to the pup who was gnawing at the whole baby pheasant that Jacob had presented to him.  “How can they live like that?”
“It’s normal, for them.”
“My parents…” Gordon started, but then deciding not to finish the thought.  “That’s just so sad.” 
Jacob’s smile was weary as he said, “They know no other way.”
Gordon sighed, then let the sadness filter away as the pup came wriggling up to him, licking at his fingers.  “Well, pup…we know what it’s really about, don’t we?” 
The dingo gave a small whine then sat back on its haunches and lifted its voice in a howl. 
Jacob smiled and said, “I believe he agrees with you, lad.”

Gordon, chuckling, picked up his flute and began to play a merry tune.