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gen_storyteller2007-06-06 01:20 pm
rayruz.livejournal.com) wrote in gen_storyteller2007-06-06 01:20 pm
10 Moments in the life of...
Title: 10 Moments in the life of...
Author: bakatulip
Words: 1000 each
Rating: PG/PG-13
Summary: The first five installments in my 10 Moments in the Life of series- Tara, Faith, Amy, Fred, Xander.
i.
An old swing hung from a large tree on the Maclay farm. Crudely made from a plank of wood and two long ropes, it was as rickety looking as the farmhouse itself. But Maddy loved it.
Maddy married young to a farmer older than herself. She bore a son, Donny, at 17 and a daughter, Tara, at 20. Maddy wasn’t sure she loved her husband, but she knew she loved her children dearly, and loved her daughter most of all. From the moment she first held the baby girl, she knew it- she knew she would have the magic too.
ii.
“Look Daddy,” the five-year-old beamed, a gap in her smile where a grown up tooth was growing in. “I’m a fairy princess.”
Tara gave a twirl to show off the dress her mother made for her. Made from clean white linen with flowers and bumblebees embroidered around the skirt and a pink ribbon below the bodice.
“Hush now,” her father reprimanded. “I’ll have none of that crazy talk in my house. There ain’t no such thing as fairies.” He turned coldly to Maddy, bringing his open palm hard to her cheek, “How can you fill her head with such nonsense?”
iii.
A clap of thunder shattered midnight and shook the farmhouse, ripping Tara from her sleep. She hated thunder. She hated the dark. Most of all she hated noises in the dark. So when she heard the squeak of the floorboard in the hallway, she pulled the blanket over her head.
“Tara?”
“M-mommy?” Tara made a gap in her cotton fortress to peek out at the woman holding a ball of floating light in the palm of her hand. “H-how did you do that?”
Maddy smiled and sat at the foot of her bed, “Magic. Would you like me to teach you?”
iv.
On Christmas morning, most children tiptoe downstairs and smile with glee to see that Santa had visited. On her tenth Christmas, Tara wasn’t awoken by the sound of reindeer, she was awoken by the sound of her father yelling.
She tiptoed down the stairs to see her parents in the kitchen, her mother on the floor cowering; her father with his belt in his hand, poised to strike. “WITCH!” He hissed.
She wanted to tell him to let her mommy alone. But if she cried out now, he’d be hitting her with that belt too.
So she kept still, kept quiet.
v.
Donny forgot many things. He forgot math when he dropped out of school at 15. He forgot his chores around the house. Most of the time, he even forgot he had a little sister.
But there was one day he didn’t forget. He came home from his afternoon of drinking and smoking with his friends in town to see the town’s doctor’s car in the drive and Tara sitting on the rickety swing.
“Wha’s goin’ on?” he asked.
“M-m-momma’s not doing s-so good.” Tara said.
“Oh.” Donny wasn’t a sympathetic guy, but he wanted to cheer her up, “Wanna thumb wrestle?”
vi.
The day after her father told her about the demon in her, Tara was suddenly aware of why all her classmates stared at her. It wasn’t the stutter or shyness, it wasn’t her above average intelligence- it was the demon. Everyone knew about the women in her family. It’s a small town and word travels around.
It wasn’t like she had a lot of friends at school, but the day after her father told her about the demon in her, Tara took her lunch into a stall in the bathroom and ate alone where no one could stare at her.
vii.
Jane’s family moved to the country to get away from the big city, for fresh air. She first met Tara in the schoolyard- she was sitting under a tree reading. “That’s one of my favorites.” Jane said, sitting down next to her.
“Th-th-this is my fourth t-time reading it,” Tara said, “It’s w-wonderful. I haven’t s-seen you here before.”
“I’m new.” Jane explained. “Just moved here from New York. My name’s Jane.”
“T-tara,” she gave a lopsided smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Neither of them knew it then, but in two weeks time they’d share their first kiss.
viii.
Tara stood outside the door to her house, taking a breath preparing herself, as always, for the fact that this might be the day. The day that a great woman finally gave in to illness and injury and left this world. The day that she could never again feel the magical connection they held. The day she’d lost her mommy. She told herself every day that it had already happened, so she could be relieved when she walked inside and saw it wasn’t true.
The only flaw is, the relief doesn’t come when the day arrives that it is true.
ix.
Sinner. Whore. Unnatural Urges. Doomed to burn eternally.
Mr. Maclay walked into Tara’s bedroom and found Jane kissing her on her bed.
Sinner. Whore. Unnatural. Doomed.
He grabbed Jane by the wrist, pulled her down the stairs, and threw her out of the house. He got a deadbolt from his shed and attached it to the outside of Tara’s bedroom door.
Sinner. Whore. Unnatural. Doomed.
“Be glad your mother isn’t alive to see you like this.” He spat.
Sinner. Whore. Unnatural. Doomed.
Her mother was the one who taught her that the most important thing in this world was love.
x.
Sitting at the dinner table, Mr. Maclay looked through the day’s mail. Tara wasn’t hungry, she just sat and poked at the peas on her plate with her fork while Donny ate like a piggy scattering crumbs everywhere.
“Well this is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said. “Tara, you got a letter here.” He offhandedly tossed the letter in her direction and it landed in her mashed potato mountain. Anxiously she picked it up off her plate and opened it.
“You’ve been accepted to the University of California Sunnydale Class of 2002.” Full Scholarship. Her ticket to freedom.
i.
Everyone said Roxy was courting trouble when she moved to Boston to live with the Lehane boy. Roxy’s mother said the boy was no good, but she was young and in love and nothing could go wrong.
The day the stick turned blue, Roxy said she’d never been happier. She dreamed of life with him and her baby, and her dreams were good. But life was a nightmare. When the kid was two, he left in the middle of the night.
Roxy turned to drink and away from Faith because whenever she looked at the girl, she saw his eyes.
ii.
She found it stuck in a tangle of branches in the park. The tiny golden retriever pup had no tags, no collar, no one to love it, and big brown eyes that made little Faith’s heart melt. The puppy was almost half her size as she cradled it in her arms and carried it back to her apartment to feed it the leftover McDonalds from the fridge.
“Leave that stupid mutt outside,” Roxy glared polishing off a bottle of tequila, “I’m not taking care of a shit making, loud barking, food eating mongrel. I have my hands full with you.”
iii.
“My daddy’s taking me to his office tomorrow and then he’s taking me to the Red Sox game!” said a blonde girl with a side ponytail
“I’m going with my mommy to the beauty parlor where she works.” Said another girl with her hair in elegant curls.
A third girl said, “I’m going with my mom on her rounds at the hospital.”
“What are you doing for Take Your Daughter To Work Day tomorrow, Faith?” They turned to her, “Oh yeah. You don’t have a daddy and your mommy is a drunk.”
Faith decided she didn’t really like blonde girls.
iv.
Roxy glared at the phone as it rang four times before the answering machine kicked in. It was the junior high principal- Faith’d been picking fights. She was suspended for a week.
She yelled when she heard her come home. “You too stupid to learn to stay out of trouble or something?”
Taking a deep swig of her beer she walked over and saw the big shiner around her daughter’s left eye. She sighed and set the bottle down. “Come here.” She bent down to get a look. “Go put some ice on it. You’ll be okay. You little firecracker…”
v.
Even in New England, summers are sweltering. And every once in a while Roxy was sober enough to take Faith to the quarry outside the city where all the kids swam.
Most of them were older, high school kids who drove there on their own. The sluts would lie out and tan, the younger kids would swim around, the couples would make out and grope in the water, and the jocks would egg each other on, saying they were fags if they didn’t jump off the ledge 40 feet up.
“Cowards!” the little girl said as she started to climb.
vi.
Every day.
Step 1: Up at 6
Step 2: Leave quietly so as not to disturb your hung-over mom.
Alternatively, if it’s your lucky day there’s a poptart in the cupboard for breakfast.
Step 3: Walk 15 blocks to the high school.
Step 4: Sit through boring classes, taught by boring teachers, with boring classmates learning things you’ll never ever need.
It was in the middle block 14 of step 3 one Monday morning, that she decided to toss her book bag in the dumpster. Faith kept walking right passed the high school and didn’t look back. She never once looked back.
vii.
They weren’t her friends, just people who she messed around with. Breaking lights, tagging buildings, stealing tapes- they were better than the alternative of being home.
The gang was crashing at Joey’s place that night, music pounding, drunk on rum, sweat and smoke and sex scented the air.
Joey grabbed the belt loop on Faith’s jeans, pulling her against his body, dancing with his hips to hers and as he danced pulled her into the bedroom.
“Let’s play a game,” he whispered in her ear as he closed and locked the door. “Come on, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
viii.
Faith took a fist to the face, which sent her toppling to the ground.
It started an innocent night- screwing around like usual. Then Joey’s friend started up with some crap about how he hit his girlfriend.
“’ts’not cool.” Faith told him.
“What’re you gonna do about it? You’re just a girl.” He said.
Lying flat on her back she suddenly felt her heart start to race, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She bolted to her feet and socked it to him good, sending him flying back 10 feet.
A British woman met up with her later on that night.
ix.
Some guy had left it idling outside the 7-11. His loss. Faith walked by and saw the pristine Harley with the keys in the ignition.
Want. Take. Have.
She hit the highway at 60 miles per hour and didn’t stop. The wind whipped her hair as her body hugged the machine and there was freedom. Pure freedom. All alone. No responsibilities, no people, no nothing. Just her racing along, out of control, out of everyone’s reach. She didn’t stop until she reached the ocean.
Unfortunately, she had a lot of cop cars to ditch on the way back to Boston.
x.
Faith never cried. Never. Not once. Not until the day she came to meet with her watcher, but didn’t find her. Not in one piece anyways. And not alone either.
It all happened so fast. The creature lunged at her. She reached for any object in reach and brought it down across the vampire’s face, creating a deep gash over its eye.
She turned and ran, not entirely sure how she got away. She just had to keep running.
What to do? Where to go? She had to stay calm.
“One ticket to Sunnydale” she told the bus station attendant.
i.
The Burkles were an ordinary couple and proud of it. Roger managed a grocery store and Trish drove a school bus. They had a nice house in San Antonio, and made enough money to live and still donate to the Salvation Army every holiday season.
The Burkles had a problem- try as they might they couldn’t have a child, and didn’t make enough money spend at a clinic.
The Burkles were an ordinary, childless couple. But then, like a miracle, after ten years of trying, they were blessed with the most extraordinary baby girl any parent could ever hope for.
ii.
Sarah May Wolkins from down the road was 13, and every afternoon she would come over so that Ms Trish could drive the elementary school bus.
Promptly at 3:00 PM Sarah rang the doorbell to the Burkle household and Trish answered the door carrying Winifred. Sarah smiled when the door opened and scooped up the 9 month old into her arms.
“Wave bye-bye, bye-bye to mama,” Sarah said to Winifred as Trish made her way out the door, making her little hand wave.
“Bye mama,” Winifred squeaked.
“Gee!” said Sarah, “My little brother didn’t talk until he was 14 months.”
iii.
At 6 years old, Winifred could only read the big “E” on the eye chart. She was all excited to pick out glasses for the first time, choosing a pair there were a bright bubblegum pink with little fake gemstones on them. She couldn’t wait to wear her brand new glasses to school.
Her schoolmates, on the other hand, were less enthusiastic about the bespectacled spectacle.
“Four eyes, four eyes!” They would taunt. But Winifred wasn’t offended- she had a sound, logical rebuttal.
“Oh yeah? Well if two heads are better than one, than four eyes are better than two.”
iv.
Sunday was Roger’s day to spend with his Freddles. He’d make a big pancake breakfast, cook up some fresh sausages, and squeeze some orange juice. He’d pick up a copy of the National Enquirer and a copy of the Sunday paper.
The two of them would sit around the kitchen table, wolfing down the huge breakfast and doing the crossword puzzle together. Then, she’d whip out the Enquirer and read aloud stories of vampires and portals and apocalypses. From the time she could read, until the time she was off to college, Sunday was Roger’s day to spend with his Freddles.
v.
It took a few months of saving, but they wanted it for their girl. Roger and Trish wanted Fred to have the best sweet-sixteen party any girl could ever want. They rented out a Mexican restaurant in the city for the night, where Fred and her friends could gorge themselves on all the tacos they wanted.
It was a night all about Fred, but the ones who couldn’t be happier were her parents. When she came downstairs, ready for the party in a red cocktail dress and her hair in an updo. Their little girl was so grown up.
vi.
Reality, everyone knows, is boring. Every once in a while, reality began to become just a little bit too boring to stand. Fred didn’t get to come across the superheroes or princesses or aliens or demons that she read about all the time. And make-believe only got you so far.
Luckily, Fred had friends who understood. She also had friends who had a cure. Saturday nights, Fred and her friends would sit around in the park passing around a joint. So for a couple of hours reality became just a little bit less boring and a whole lot more enjoyable.
vii.
Fred stared at the clock watching the second hand move ever so slowly. She opened her notebook and jotted down “Light speed travel- possible if you concentrate really hard?” This class couldn’t have been passing any slower. She was so sure she’d wanted to major in history, but this Colonial America class was snoresville.
Another second ticked. She couldn’t wait to get to Professor Siedel’s class. She’d only signed up for physics because she needed it to fulfill her natural science requirement, but it quickly skyrocketed to her favorite class. Ten more seconds. Come on, Come on! Class dismissed. Finally.
viii.
College was great, but nothing compared to the feeling of moving into her new place for graduate school. Fred brought the last cardboard box into the apartment from her car and walked into the bedroom and placed it down in front of the dresser. She looked around.
Los Angeles was a long way from home, halfway across the country, far away from mom and dad. She giggled and flopped down on the bed swinging her legs in the air. On her own, free to learn, with her whole life ahead of her.
A whole new world was open to her.
ix.
“Next!” said the auctioneer.
“One Female Cow Slave. Found wandering in the woods outside the village a few days ago. Small, weak, skinny, good for household labor and farm work. There’s not much to her and she’s annoyingly talktative so she’s cheap, a real bargain, let’s open the bidding at 10. 10 do I hear twenty?”
“20”
“Do I hear 25?”
“30”
“Thirty, thirty to the fine mud demon back there,”
“40”
“Forty! Well thank you. Forty going once, forty going-“
“50”
“Fifty! I hear fifty! Anyone for sixty? No. Fifty going once. Fifty going twice. Sold. Alright, next cow.”
x.
They think I’m stupid! Hah, they’re the stupid ones. Think they can hold me. Think I’m too stupid to figure out how to disarm the collar. No they’re the stupid ones. Of course if they’re so stupid, how come I’m the one huddling in the corner of a cave, trying to make myself so small that I just disappear.
And if I’m so smart, how come I can’t figure out how to get home. How come I’m just sitting here? Where is here? What is here? Here is… a place. Stupid place… how do I get home? How do I…
i.
Catherine paced in front of the mirror, turning side to side, pulling up her shirt and examining her stomach.
“You look fine, dear.” Her husband said from behind the newspaper.
“I don’t look fat?” she asked, examining for bulge.
“It’s only ten weeks, Cathy.” He said.
She put down her shirt, “Well I’m never going to be able to wear bikinis again.”
“It’s not gonna be in there forever.”
“No! Stretch marks.” She corrected.
“Cathy.” He put down his paper and walked over to her, grabbing her hands. “We’re having a baby. That should be more important than stretch marks.”
ii.
He was the doting dad, carrying around the video camera capturing every moment of his daughter’s life for posterity. Every moment on film building up to the moment he looked forward to most- Amy’s 1st Birthday Party.
The whole family was there some of whom had never seen the beautiful blonde headed baby girl. And of course, a big cake. Less for Amy. More for himself.
He kept the camcorder trained on the stairs as Catherine appeared at the top, holding the bouncy birthday girl in her arms wearing a cute little cheerleader’s outfit. Cathy had picked it out herself.
iii.
Amy wasn’t supposed to have sugar after 5 o’clock. It made her hyper. But she was tricky, she knew her way around the kitchen, and she knew where her dad kept all the sweets. So when Catherine wasn’t looking she’d snag a bunch of cookies, stick them in her pockets, and sneak them up to her room.
Her mom was right about it though, the sugar made her hyper and kept her up most of the night. Being up most of the night, she began to notice things. Primarily that her dad was coming home later and later… and later…
iv.
Amy knocked on the attic door. Her mom had never done this before. She locked herself in and hadn’t come out for the entire weekend. Her dad was getting antsy and kept leaving the house and coming back. Once or twice he tried to take Amy out mini-golfing or to the movies but she wouldn’t leave. She just sat outside the attic door, knocking every once in a while. Occasionally, Catherine would yell for her to just shut up, but that was it. For four days she stayed up there in the attic before she came out looking smug.
v.
Cookies banned from the house. But she didn’t need cookies to stay up anymore. All the yelling in the house was taking care of that. Amy liked to curl up under her covers, pull her pillow over her ears and pretend she didn’t hear any of it.
“You witch! I know you’ve been responsible for all the “accidents” that’ve been happening!”
“What am I supposed to do, just let you mess around with your whore?”
“Know what? I’m out of here, just as soon as I get-“
“No! She stays!”
The next morning daddy was gone. He never came back.
vi.
Amy sat on the floor of Willow’s bedroom, a big plate of freshly baked and excessively gooey brownies sat between them along with a couple of math textbooks.
“Okay,” Willow explained, “So to solve this problem, you have to find x. So you subtract 4 from both sides and divide by six.”
“Oh waow- dat makesh shensh.” Amy said, mouth full of chocolaty goodness. She swallowed. “Thanks!”
“No problem,” Willow replied with a nasal giggle.
“And thanks for having me over. If I had to have one more bowl of broth, I think I would throw up.”
“Ew. Vomit’s bad.”
vii.
Catherine walked in late, as usual. She dropped her bag on the ground. Working during the day, cosmetology school at night. She went into the kitchen and opened the lock on the fridge, just to get out a diet soda. She’d had a rough day and she deserved it. Downing the can, she relocked the fridge and headed up the stairs.
She looked into Amy’s bedroom before going to her own room. She’d never learned when Amy was pretending to be asleep. Pulling the covers over her head. She didn’t want to deal with her mom on nights like these.
viii.
This was weird. Really weird.
Amy sat up and looked around. What was she doing in her mom’s room? She was sure she’d gone to sleep in her own bed. She sat up, feeling strangely stiff, and awkward. Her limbs felt tired, like she’d been rock climbing, but she hadn’t.
She got up and tripped towards the mirror. She still looked the same, but her reflection was smirking.
Wait… that wasn’t the mirror… that was the doorway. She watched her body turn and walk away, swinging her hips, and disappear down the stairs. “I’m off to school, mom.” She called.
ix.
Okay, magic really had gotten her in a lot of trouble before. But what was the harm in it? She just wanted to cast a little spell to help her do better on the history test. A little couldn’t hurt could it?
She had a box of her mother’s stuff that she’d taken with her when her mom disappeared. She dusted off the cardboard box and opened it out, lifting out her spell book.
She opened the book and began to scan for a memory spell, as she looked she kept folding down pages. There was lot of cool stuff.
x.
“Hey, you’re new here.” Amy said, sitting down in the student lounge of the high school with a diet coke in hand.
“Yeah, just came to finish out my last semester,” the guy said.
“Oh you're a senior? That’s cool.” She smiled, “I’m Amy Madison, sophmore.” She said.
He nodded, “Warren Mears.”
The bell rang, marking the end of lunch. “Oh, I gotta get going,” Amy stood up. “But, would you like my email? To keep in touch?”
“Sure thing.”
She jotted it down on his notebook and headed for class. He glanced at her ass as she walked away.
i.
Three A.M.
The kid must have some kind of internal alarm.
Three A.M. on the dot.
Mr. Harris rolled over and nudged his wife in the shoulder, “It’s your turn.”
Three A.M. on the dot every morning.
Mrs. Harris got out of bed, pulled on her robe and shuffled down the hall to the baby’s room.
Nothing would appease the newborn. She fed him. She changed him. She crooned him a horridly off-tune lullaby, but she couldn’t get him to stop crying. Finally, she got an idea. She dipped his pacifier in a little wine, and he fell fast asleep.
ii.
Mrs. Harris sat on a park bench with a magazine in her hand as little Xander sat contently in the sandbox, flinging it everywhere.
Another woman, about her age, pushed a stroller towards the sandbox. Mrs. Harris watched as she unstrapped a young girl, she looked about her son’s age, and set her down in the sandbox.
“How cute,” said Mrs. Harris. “They’re playing together.”
The woman sat down next to her, “Well, next to each other. Children don’t play with each other until they’re two or three.” She extended her hand for a shake, “Hi, Sheila Rosenberg, you are?”
iii.
It wasn’t just a game. The entire future, the pride of the family, and immunity from schoolyard teasing was at stake. This was little league, by far the most important event in the life of any parent.
Bases loaded. Two strikes. Xander Harris stood at the plate looking more determined than ever. The ball came hurdling towards him, he swung the bat and with a loud crack, the baseball smacked him in the face. He fell backwards, blood gushing everywhere.
“How could you miss that?” his father asked him later, “Oh well, there has to be something you’re good at.”
iv.
Charades. He had the best one, and he knew she would get it. 4 words. He didn’t say which word he was doing, he just started doing the most bizarre dance Willow had ever seen in her life.
After continuing this bizarre ritual for about a minute he stopped and turned to her, blinking at her vacant expression.
“You’ve never seen A Charlie Brown Christmas?” He asked, jaw agape.
Xander’s best friend shook her head. “Nope.”
“You haven’t lived! It’s the greatest thing ever!” Xander got up and snatched the tape from the shelf and put it into the VCR.
v.
For the longest time, it was just Xander and Willow. The two musketeers. They did everything together. They walked to school together in the morning, sat next to each other in class, ate together at lunch, walked home after school, then talked on the phone about their day all night.
Then Jesse McNally moved in. Loud, goofy, and pretty much weird, he fit in seamlessly with the outcast pair and the two musketeers became a well-rounded three. One would never think he was the new guy.
The three thirteen year olds were certain that nothing would ever break them apart.
vi.
Guys do really stupid things to get girls to notice them. For example, in 7th grade, Xander had a big crush on this girl- Karlie Samson. Thinking he’d impress her, he chugged an entire gallon of orange Gatorade without taking a single breath.
And he did get her attention- when he threw up all over her.
Coincidently, Karlie ended up a successful doctor, but when a malpractice suit cost her her job, she turned to the black arts for some revenge- cursing her coworkers to never again be able to cure a patient. As of now, she’s working for D’Hoffryn.
vii.
The sensory overload that is the holidays.
The bright red and green lights that decorated the house.
The smell of the kitchen- roasting turkey, potatoes, pies.
The taste of the eggnog, Uncle Rory kept trying to put rum in Xander’s but he’d just dump it out and get fresh.
The feel of the boxes, picking up and shaking them, trying to figure out what was inside.
The sounds of yelling, screaming, shouting, bickering, and other general unpleasant loudness.
Fed up, Xander grabbed his sleeping bag and a couple of comic books and headed outside. Time to start a new tradition.
viii.
In 1st grade, when asked what he wanted for his birthday, Xander said “a firetruck.” When he didn’t get one, he was bitterly disappointed. Then, the house next door burned down and one of the firemen let him try on his hat. He was smitten.
In 2nd grade, they did a report on heroes. Xander wrote about firemen.
In 4th grade, they had a Halloween parade. Xander dressed up as a fireman.
In 6th grade, when asked what he wanted to be when he grew up, Xander said “A fireman”.
In 8th grade, he burned his hand while making soup.
ix.
Jesse sat stiffly in his chair, as Willow and Xander who sat on either side of him, stared. Willow’s eyes were fogged with a lack of understanding and Xander’s eyes bubbled with some kind of rage and disgust.
“Jesse, we’re just worried about you.” Willow said.
“I don’t see what the big deal is all about?”
“You’re so deep in this you can’t see how it’s hurting you, man.” Xander said. “And you can’t see how it’s hurting us. I mean… you were flirting with her! And you’re the vice president of the “We Hate Cordelia Club”. How could you?”
x.
Xander was on an endless search for cool. Ever since he was a kid. He tried many things.
Musicians were supposedly cool, but the flugelhorn ended up being a big turn off.
Smoking was supposedly cool, but very, very gross.
Finally, he tried the skateboard.
His first attempt ended with a skinned knee. His second ended with a broken arm. His third attempt ended with him getting distracted by a major hottie and skating right into a handrail, making himself officially the antithesis of cool.
After school, he threw the skateboard in the garbage, and vowed to never skate again.
Author: bakatulip
Words: 1000 each
Rating: PG/PG-13
Summary: The first five installments in my 10 Moments in the Life of series- Tara, Faith, Amy, Fred, Xander.
i.
An old swing hung from a large tree on the Maclay farm. Crudely made from a plank of wood and two long ropes, it was as rickety looking as the farmhouse itself. But Maddy loved it.
Maddy married young to a farmer older than herself. She bore a son, Donny, at 17 and a daughter, Tara, at 20. Maddy wasn’t sure she loved her husband, but she knew she loved her children dearly, and loved her daughter most of all. From the moment she first held the baby girl, she knew it- she knew she would have the magic too.
ii.
“Look Daddy,” the five-year-old beamed, a gap in her smile where a grown up tooth was growing in. “I’m a fairy princess.”
Tara gave a twirl to show off the dress her mother made for her. Made from clean white linen with flowers and bumblebees embroidered around the skirt and a pink ribbon below the bodice.
“Hush now,” her father reprimanded. “I’ll have none of that crazy talk in my house. There ain’t no such thing as fairies.” He turned coldly to Maddy, bringing his open palm hard to her cheek, “How can you fill her head with such nonsense?”
iii.
A clap of thunder shattered midnight and shook the farmhouse, ripping Tara from her sleep. She hated thunder. She hated the dark. Most of all she hated noises in the dark. So when she heard the squeak of the floorboard in the hallway, she pulled the blanket over her head.
“Tara?”
“M-mommy?” Tara made a gap in her cotton fortress to peek out at the woman holding a ball of floating light in the palm of her hand. “H-how did you do that?”
Maddy smiled and sat at the foot of her bed, “Magic. Would you like me to teach you?”
iv.
On Christmas morning, most children tiptoe downstairs and smile with glee to see that Santa had visited. On her tenth Christmas, Tara wasn’t awoken by the sound of reindeer, she was awoken by the sound of her father yelling.
She tiptoed down the stairs to see her parents in the kitchen, her mother on the floor cowering; her father with his belt in his hand, poised to strike. “WITCH!” He hissed.
She wanted to tell him to let her mommy alone. But if she cried out now, he’d be hitting her with that belt too.
So she kept still, kept quiet.
v.
Donny forgot many things. He forgot math when he dropped out of school at 15. He forgot his chores around the house. Most of the time, he even forgot he had a little sister.
But there was one day he didn’t forget. He came home from his afternoon of drinking and smoking with his friends in town to see the town’s doctor’s car in the drive and Tara sitting on the rickety swing.
“Wha’s goin’ on?” he asked.
“M-m-momma’s not doing s-so good.” Tara said.
“Oh.” Donny wasn’t a sympathetic guy, but he wanted to cheer her up, “Wanna thumb wrestle?”
vi.
The day after her father told her about the demon in her, Tara was suddenly aware of why all her classmates stared at her. It wasn’t the stutter or shyness, it wasn’t her above average intelligence- it was the demon. Everyone knew about the women in her family. It’s a small town and word travels around.
It wasn’t like she had a lot of friends at school, but the day after her father told her about the demon in her, Tara took her lunch into a stall in the bathroom and ate alone where no one could stare at her.
vii.
Jane’s family moved to the country to get away from the big city, for fresh air. She first met Tara in the schoolyard- she was sitting under a tree reading. “That’s one of my favorites.” Jane said, sitting down next to her.
“Th-th-this is my fourth t-time reading it,” Tara said, “It’s w-wonderful. I haven’t s-seen you here before.”
“I’m new.” Jane explained. “Just moved here from New York. My name’s Jane.”
“T-tara,” she gave a lopsided smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Neither of them knew it then, but in two weeks time they’d share their first kiss.
viii.
Tara stood outside the door to her house, taking a breath preparing herself, as always, for the fact that this might be the day. The day that a great woman finally gave in to illness and injury and left this world. The day that she could never again feel the magical connection they held. The day she’d lost her mommy. She told herself every day that it had already happened, so she could be relieved when she walked inside and saw it wasn’t true.
The only flaw is, the relief doesn’t come when the day arrives that it is true.
ix.
Sinner. Whore. Unnatural Urges. Doomed to burn eternally.
Mr. Maclay walked into Tara’s bedroom and found Jane kissing her on her bed.
Sinner. Whore. Unnatural. Doomed.
He grabbed Jane by the wrist, pulled her down the stairs, and threw her out of the house. He got a deadbolt from his shed and attached it to the outside of Tara’s bedroom door.
Sinner. Whore. Unnatural. Doomed.
“Be glad your mother isn’t alive to see you like this.” He spat.
Sinner. Whore. Unnatural. Doomed.
Her mother was the one who taught her that the most important thing in this world was love.
x.
Sitting at the dinner table, Mr. Maclay looked through the day’s mail. Tara wasn’t hungry, she just sat and poked at the peas on her plate with her fork while Donny ate like a piggy scattering crumbs everywhere.
“Well this is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said. “Tara, you got a letter here.” He offhandedly tossed the letter in her direction and it landed in her mashed potato mountain. Anxiously she picked it up off her plate and opened it.
“You’ve been accepted to the University of California Sunnydale Class of 2002.” Full Scholarship. Her ticket to freedom.
i.
Everyone said Roxy was courting trouble when she moved to Boston to live with the Lehane boy. Roxy’s mother said the boy was no good, but she was young and in love and nothing could go wrong.
The day the stick turned blue, Roxy said she’d never been happier. She dreamed of life with him and her baby, and her dreams were good. But life was a nightmare. When the kid was two, he left in the middle of the night.
Roxy turned to drink and away from Faith because whenever she looked at the girl, she saw his eyes.
ii.
She found it stuck in a tangle of branches in the park. The tiny golden retriever pup had no tags, no collar, no one to love it, and big brown eyes that made little Faith’s heart melt. The puppy was almost half her size as she cradled it in her arms and carried it back to her apartment to feed it the leftover McDonalds from the fridge.
“Leave that stupid mutt outside,” Roxy glared polishing off a bottle of tequila, “I’m not taking care of a shit making, loud barking, food eating mongrel. I have my hands full with you.”
iii.
“My daddy’s taking me to his office tomorrow and then he’s taking me to the Red Sox game!” said a blonde girl with a side ponytail
“I’m going with my mommy to the beauty parlor where she works.” Said another girl with her hair in elegant curls.
A third girl said, “I’m going with my mom on her rounds at the hospital.”
“What are you doing for Take Your Daughter To Work Day tomorrow, Faith?” They turned to her, “Oh yeah. You don’t have a daddy and your mommy is a drunk.”
Faith decided she didn’t really like blonde girls.
iv.
Roxy glared at the phone as it rang four times before the answering machine kicked in. It was the junior high principal- Faith’d been picking fights. She was suspended for a week.
She yelled when she heard her come home. “You too stupid to learn to stay out of trouble or something?”
Taking a deep swig of her beer she walked over and saw the big shiner around her daughter’s left eye. She sighed and set the bottle down. “Come here.” She bent down to get a look. “Go put some ice on it. You’ll be okay. You little firecracker…”
v.
Even in New England, summers are sweltering. And every once in a while Roxy was sober enough to take Faith to the quarry outside the city where all the kids swam.
Most of them were older, high school kids who drove there on their own. The sluts would lie out and tan, the younger kids would swim around, the couples would make out and grope in the water, and the jocks would egg each other on, saying they were fags if they didn’t jump off the ledge 40 feet up.
“Cowards!” the little girl said as she started to climb.
vi.
Every day.
Step 1: Up at 6
Step 2: Leave quietly so as not to disturb your hung-over mom.
Alternatively, if it’s your lucky day there’s a poptart in the cupboard for breakfast.
Step 3: Walk 15 blocks to the high school.
Step 4: Sit through boring classes, taught by boring teachers, with boring classmates learning things you’ll never ever need.
It was in the middle block 14 of step 3 one Monday morning, that she decided to toss her book bag in the dumpster. Faith kept walking right passed the high school and didn’t look back. She never once looked back.
vii.
They weren’t her friends, just people who she messed around with. Breaking lights, tagging buildings, stealing tapes- they were better than the alternative of being home.
The gang was crashing at Joey’s place that night, music pounding, drunk on rum, sweat and smoke and sex scented the air.
Joey grabbed the belt loop on Faith’s jeans, pulling her against his body, dancing with his hips to hers and as he danced pulled her into the bedroom.
“Let’s play a game,” he whispered in her ear as he closed and locked the door. “Come on, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
viii.
Faith took a fist to the face, which sent her toppling to the ground.
It started an innocent night- screwing around like usual. Then Joey’s friend started up with some crap about how he hit his girlfriend.
“’ts’not cool.” Faith told him.
“What’re you gonna do about it? You’re just a girl.” He said.
Lying flat on her back she suddenly felt her heart start to race, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She bolted to her feet and socked it to him good, sending him flying back 10 feet.
A British woman met up with her later on that night.
ix.
Some guy had left it idling outside the 7-11. His loss. Faith walked by and saw the pristine Harley with the keys in the ignition.
Want. Take. Have.
She hit the highway at 60 miles per hour and didn’t stop. The wind whipped her hair as her body hugged the machine and there was freedom. Pure freedom. All alone. No responsibilities, no people, no nothing. Just her racing along, out of control, out of everyone’s reach. She didn’t stop until she reached the ocean.
Unfortunately, she had a lot of cop cars to ditch on the way back to Boston.
x.
Faith never cried. Never. Not once. Not until the day she came to meet with her watcher, but didn’t find her. Not in one piece anyways. And not alone either.
It all happened so fast. The creature lunged at her. She reached for any object in reach and brought it down across the vampire’s face, creating a deep gash over its eye.
She turned and ran, not entirely sure how she got away. She just had to keep running.
What to do? Where to go? She had to stay calm.
“One ticket to Sunnydale” she told the bus station attendant.
i.
The Burkles were an ordinary couple and proud of it. Roger managed a grocery store and Trish drove a school bus. They had a nice house in San Antonio, and made enough money to live and still donate to the Salvation Army every holiday season.
The Burkles had a problem- try as they might they couldn’t have a child, and didn’t make enough money spend at a clinic.
The Burkles were an ordinary, childless couple. But then, like a miracle, after ten years of trying, they were blessed with the most extraordinary baby girl any parent could ever hope for.
ii.
Sarah May Wolkins from down the road was 13, and every afternoon she would come over so that Ms Trish could drive the elementary school bus.
Promptly at 3:00 PM Sarah rang the doorbell to the Burkle household and Trish answered the door carrying Winifred. Sarah smiled when the door opened and scooped up the 9 month old into her arms.
“Wave bye-bye, bye-bye to mama,” Sarah said to Winifred as Trish made her way out the door, making her little hand wave.
“Bye mama,” Winifred squeaked.
“Gee!” said Sarah, “My little brother didn’t talk until he was 14 months.”
iii.
At 6 years old, Winifred could only read the big “E” on the eye chart. She was all excited to pick out glasses for the first time, choosing a pair there were a bright bubblegum pink with little fake gemstones on them. She couldn’t wait to wear her brand new glasses to school.
Her schoolmates, on the other hand, were less enthusiastic about the bespectacled spectacle.
“Four eyes, four eyes!” They would taunt. But Winifred wasn’t offended- she had a sound, logical rebuttal.
“Oh yeah? Well if two heads are better than one, than four eyes are better than two.”
iv.
Sunday was Roger’s day to spend with his Freddles. He’d make a big pancake breakfast, cook up some fresh sausages, and squeeze some orange juice. He’d pick up a copy of the National Enquirer and a copy of the Sunday paper.
The two of them would sit around the kitchen table, wolfing down the huge breakfast and doing the crossword puzzle together. Then, she’d whip out the Enquirer and read aloud stories of vampires and portals and apocalypses. From the time she could read, until the time she was off to college, Sunday was Roger’s day to spend with his Freddles.
v.
It took a few months of saving, but they wanted it for their girl. Roger and Trish wanted Fred to have the best sweet-sixteen party any girl could ever want. They rented out a Mexican restaurant in the city for the night, where Fred and her friends could gorge themselves on all the tacos they wanted.
It was a night all about Fred, but the ones who couldn’t be happier were her parents. When she came downstairs, ready for the party in a red cocktail dress and her hair in an updo. Their little girl was so grown up.
vi.
Reality, everyone knows, is boring. Every once in a while, reality began to become just a little bit too boring to stand. Fred didn’t get to come across the superheroes or princesses or aliens or demons that she read about all the time. And make-believe only got you so far.
Luckily, Fred had friends who understood. She also had friends who had a cure. Saturday nights, Fred and her friends would sit around in the park passing around a joint. So for a couple of hours reality became just a little bit less boring and a whole lot more enjoyable.
vii.
Fred stared at the clock watching the second hand move ever so slowly. She opened her notebook and jotted down “Light speed travel- possible if you concentrate really hard?” This class couldn’t have been passing any slower. She was so sure she’d wanted to major in history, but this Colonial America class was snoresville.
Another second ticked. She couldn’t wait to get to Professor Siedel’s class. She’d only signed up for physics because she needed it to fulfill her natural science requirement, but it quickly skyrocketed to her favorite class. Ten more seconds. Come on, Come on! Class dismissed. Finally.
viii.
College was great, but nothing compared to the feeling of moving into her new place for graduate school. Fred brought the last cardboard box into the apartment from her car and walked into the bedroom and placed it down in front of the dresser. She looked around.
Los Angeles was a long way from home, halfway across the country, far away from mom and dad. She giggled and flopped down on the bed swinging her legs in the air. On her own, free to learn, with her whole life ahead of her.
A whole new world was open to her.
ix.
“Next!” said the auctioneer.
“One Female Cow Slave. Found wandering in the woods outside the village a few days ago. Small, weak, skinny, good for household labor and farm work. There’s not much to her and she’s annoyingly talktative so she’s cheap, a real bargain, let’s open the bidding at 10. 10 do I hear twenty?”
“20”
“Do I hear 25?”
“30”
“Thirty, thirty to the fine mud demon back there,”
“40”
“Forty! Well thank you. Forty going once, forty going-“
“50”
“Fifty! I hear fifty! Anyone for sixty? No. Fifty going once. Fifty going twice. Sold. Alright, next cow.”
x.
They think I’m stupid! Hah, they’re the stupid ones. Think they can hold me. Think I’m too stupid to figure out how to disarm the collar. No they’re the stupid ones. Of course if they’re so stupid, how come I’m the one huddling in the corner of a cave, trying to make myself so small that I just disappear.
And if I’m so smart, how come I can’t figure out how to get home. How come I’m just sitting here? Where is here? What is here? Here is… a place. Stupid place… how do I get home? How do I…
i.
Catherine paced in front of the mirror, turning side to side, pulling up her shirt and examining her stomach.
“You look fine, dear.” Her husband said from behind the newspaper.
“I don’t look fat?” she asked, examining for bulge.
“It’s only ten weeks, Cathy.” He said.
She put down her shirt, “Well I’m never going to be able to wear bikinis again.”
“It’s not gonna be in there forever.”
“No! Stretch marks.” She corrected.
“Cathy.” He put down his paper and walked over to her, grabbing her hands. “We’re having a baby. That should be more important than stretch marks.”
ii.
He was the doting dad, carrying around the video camera capturing every moment of his daughter’s life for posterity. Every moment on film building up to the moment he looked forward to most- Amy’s 1st Birthday Party.
The whole family was there some of whom had never seen the beautiful blonde headed baby girl. And of course, a big cake. Less for Amy. More for himself.
He kept the camcorder trained on the stairs as Catherine appeared at the top, holding the bouncy birthday girl in her arms wearing a cute little cheerleader’s outfit. Cathy had picked it out herself.
iii.
Amy wasn’t supposed to have sugar after 5 o’clock. It made her hyper. But she was tricky, she knew her way around the kitchen, and she knew where her dad kept all the sweets. So when Catherine wasn’t looking she’d snag a bunch of cookies, stick them in her pockets, and sneak them up to her room.
Her mom was right about it though, the sugar made her hyper and kept her up most of the night. Being up most of the night, she began to notice things. Primarily that her dad was coming home later and later… and later…
iv.
Amy knocked on the attic door. Her mom had never done this before. She locked herself in and hadn’t come out for the entire weekend. Her dad was getting antsy and kept leaving the house and coming back. Once or twice he tried to take Amy out mini-golfing or to the movies but she wouldn’t leave. She just sat outside the attic door, knocking every once in a while. Occasionally, Catherine would yell for her to just shut up, but that was it. For four days she stayed up there in the attic before she came out looking smug.
v.
Cookies banned from the house. But she didn’t need cookies to stay up anymore. All the yelling in the house was taking care of that. Amy liked to curl up under her covers, pull her pillow over her ears and pretend she didn’t hear any of it.
“You witch! I know you’ve been responsible for all the “accidents” that’ve been happening!”
“What am I supposed to do, just let you mess around with your whore?”
“Know what? I’m out of here, just as soon as I get-“
“No! She stays!”
The next morning daddy was gone. He never came back.
vi.
Amy sat on the floor of Willow’s bedroom, a big plate of freshly baked and excessively gooey brownies sat between them along with a couple of math textbooks.
“Okay,” Willow explained, “So to solve this problem, you have to find x. So you subtract 4 from both sides and divide by six.”
“Oh waow- dat makesh shensh.” Amy said, mouth full of chocolaty goodness. She swallowed. “Thanks!”
“No problem,” Willow replied with a nasal giggle.
“And thanks for having me over. If I had to have one more bowl of broth, I think I would throw up.”
“Ew. Vomit’s bad.”
vii.
Catherine walked in late, as usual. She dropped her bag on the ground. Working during the day, cosmetology school at night. She went into the kitchen and opened the lock on the fridge, just to get out a diet soda. She’d had a rough day and she deserved it. Downing the can, she relocked the fridge and headed up the stairs.
She looked into Amy’s bedroom before going to her own room. She’d never learned when Amy was pretending to be asleep. Pulling the covers over her head. She didn’t want to deal with her mom on nights like these.
viii.
This was weird. Really weird.
Amy sat up and looked around. What was she doing in her mom’s room? She was sure she’d gone to sleep in her own bed. She sat up, feeling strangely stiff, and awkward. Her limbs felt tired, like she’d been rock climbing, but she hadn’t.
She got up and tripped towards the mirror. She still looked the same, but her reflection was smirking.
Wait… that wasn’t the mirror… that was the doorway. She watched her body turn and walk away, swinging her hips, and disappear down the stairs. “I’m off to school, mom.” She called.
ix.
Okay, magic really had gotten her in a lot of trouble before. But what was the harm in it? She just wanted to cast a little spell to help her do better on the history test. A little couldn’t hurt could it?
She had a box of her mother’s stuff that she’d taken with her when her mom disappeared. She dusted off the cardboard box and opened it out, lifting out her spell book.
She opened the book and began to scan for a memory spell, as she looked she kept folding down pages. There was lot of cool stuff.
x.
“Hey, you’re new here.” Amy said, sitting down in the student lounge of the high school with a diet coke in hand.
“Yeah, just came to finish out my last semester,” the guy said.
“Oh you're a senior? That’s cool.” She smiled, “I’m Amy Madison, sophmore.” She said.
He nodded, “Warren Mears.”
The bell rang, marking the end of lunch. “Oh, I gotta get going,” Amy stood up. “But, would you like my email? To keep in touch?”
“Sure thing.”
She jotted it down on his notebook and headed for class. He glanced at her ass as she walked away.
i.
Three A.M.
The kid must have some kind of internal alarm.
Three A.M. on the dot.
Mr. Harris rolled over and nudged his wife in the shoulder, “It’s your turn.”
Three A.M. on the dot every morning.
Mrs. Harris got out of bed, pulled on her robe and shuffled down the hall to the baby’s room.
Nothing would appease the newborn. She fed him. She changed him. She crooned him a horridly off-tune lullaby, but she couldn’t get him to stop crying. Finally, she got an idea. She dipped his pacifier in a little wine, and he fell fast asleep.
ii.
Mrs. Harris sat on a park bench with a magazine in her hand as little Xander sat contently in the sandbox, flinging it everywhere.
Another woman, about her age, pushed a stroller towards the sandbox. Mrs. Harris watched as she unstrapped a young girl, she looked about her son’s age, and set her down in the sandbox.
“How cute,” said Mrs. Harris. “They’re playing together.”
The woman sat down next to her, “Well, next to each other. Children don’t play with each other until they’re two or three.” She extended her hand for a shake, “Hi, Sheila Rosenberg, you are?”
iii.
It wasn’t just a game. The entire future, the pride of the family, and immunity from schoolyard teasing was at stake. This was little league, by far the most important event in the life of any parent.
Bases loaded. Two strikes. Xander Harris stood at the plate looking more determined than ever. The ball came hurdling towards him, he swung the bat and with a loud crack, the baseball smacked him in the face. He fell backwards, blood gushing everywhere.
“How could you miss that?” his father asked him later, “Oh well, there has to be something you’re good at.”
iv.
Charades. He had the best one, and he knew she would get it. 4 words. He didn’t say which word he was doing, he just started doing the most bizarre dance Willow had ever seen in her life.
After continuing this bizarre ritual for about a minute he stopped and turned to her, blinking at her vacant expression.
“You’ve never seen A Charlie Brown Christmas?” He asked, jaw agape.
Xander’s best friend shook her head. “Nope.”
“You haven’t lived! It’s the greatest thing ever!” Xander got up and snatched the tape from the shelf and put it into the VCR.
v.
For the longest time, it was just Xander and Willow. The two musketeers. They did everything together. They walked to school together in the morning, sat next to each other in class, ate together at lunch, walked home after school, then talked on the phone about their day all night.
Then Jesse McNally moved in. Loud, goofy, and pretty much weird, he fit in seamlessly with the outcast pair and the two musketeers became a well-rounded three. One would never think he was the new guy.
The three thirteen year olds were certain that nothing would ever break them apart.
vi.
Guys do really stupid things to get girls to notice them. For example, in 7th grade, Xander had a big crush on this girl- Karlie Samson. Thinking he’d impress her, he chugged an entire gallon of orange Gatorade without taking a single breath.
And he did get her attention- when he threw up all over her.
Coincidently, Karlie ended up a successful doctor, but when a malpractice suit cost her her job, she turned to the black arts for some revenge- cursing her coworkers to never again be able to cure a patient. As of now, she’s working for D’Hoffryn.
vii.
The sensory overload that is the holidays.
The bright red and green lights that decorated the house.
The smell of the kitchen- roasting turkey, potatoes, pies.
The taste of the eggnog, Uncle Rory kept trying to put rum in Xander’s but he’d just dump it out and get fresh.
The feel of the boxes, picking up and shaking them, trying to figure out what was inside.
The sounds of yelling, screaming, shouting, bickering, and other general unpleasant loudness.
Fed up, Xander grabbed his sleeping bag and a couple of comic books and headed outside. Time to start a new tradition.
viii.
In 1st grade, when asked what he wanted for his birthday, Xander said “a firetruck.” When he didn’t get one, he was bitterly disappointed. Then, the house next door burned down and one of the firemen let him try on his hat. He was smitten.
In 2nd grade, they did a report on heroes. Xander wrote about firemen.
In 4th grade, they had a Halloween parade. Xander dressed up as a fireman.
In 6th grade, when asked what he wanted to be when he grew up, Xander said “A fireman”.
In 8th grade, he burned his hand while making soup.
ix.
Jesse sat stiffly in his chair, as Willow and Xander who sat on either side of him, stared. Willow’s eyes were fogged with a lack of understanding and Xander’s eyes bubbled with some kind of rage and disgust.
“Jesse, we’re just worried about you.” Willow said.
“I don’t see what the big deal is all about?”
“You’re so deep in this you can’t see how it’s hurting you, man.” Xander said. “And you can’t see how it’s hurting us. I mean… you were flirting with her! And you’re the vice president of the “We Hate Cordelia Club”. How could you?”
x.
Xander was on an endless search for cool. Ever since he was a kid. He tried many things.
Musicians were supposedly cool, but the flugelhorn ended up being a big turn off.
Smoking was supposedly cool, but very, very gross.
Finally, he tried the skateboard.
His first attempt ended with a skinned knee. His second ended with a broken arm. His third attempt ended with him getting distracted by a major hottie and skating right into a handrail, making himself officially the antithesis of cool.
After school, he threw the skateboard in the garbage, and vowed to never skate again.
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*runs to look it up*
Webster (http://webster.com/dictionary/series) says series pl. is series. I should've just done that in the first place. . .
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