Post by GGJ5 on Jul 15, 2010 23:27:55 GMT -5
Okay, so, I'm putting Alex's fear sketch in a separate thread.... because I can, and because it's easy to get lost in the other thread. lol. So, presenting.... Alex Pierce's fear sketch, yay! Tell me if it's lame. : D
The autumn air seemed to constantly flicker with warm lights, the oranges and yellows swirling about in the cooling weather in the forms of lithe leaves and dancing flames. Alex's family's backyard was big enough to host the yearly bonfire-- the one that attracted both family and friends, people stopping by from down the street just to hand out and chat, or to hear String Up Anxiety. Alex liked to go to watch that band, too, especially to watch his Uncle Wyatt behind the saxophone. Alex played the trumpet in his band, but it was just a school band. They didn't get to play for parties or weddings or anything like Uncle Wyatt and the rest of String Up Anxiety did. They didn't even have a band name-- they were just the Audubon Community School Band. And now bits and pieces of the Audubon School Band ran around the Pierces' backyard, friends from school or the neighborhood who joined him for band class every other day. Now they were tossing leaves at the bonfire and watching them disappear, or playing tag far on the other side of the yard, per parents' orders, or sitting there with Alex, watching the band play and dancing, or mimicking what the musicians were doing. It was at least an annual event, and always had been, at least in Alex's memory.
The sun had set for a while now, and the sky fell cool and heavy in its thick night blue. "Hey, I'm bringing out the stuff for s'mores!" Alex immediately looked up at the call for s'mores, and the loud and excited squeals of the kids filled his ears as they all drew to his dad like very energetic flies to honey. Richard Pierce stepped out of the doorway, arms full of bags of marshmallows and chocolate bars. "Alex, bring out the boxes of graham crackers, please."
"Yes, sir," Alex answered with a nod and was soon following his father out, his own arms similarly full now. Immediately he was put to work, helping his dad open all the supplies and then handing out the long wires for everyone to use with the marshmallows as they toasted them in the amber fire. Alex heard his dad's voice going on about the safety with the marshmallows and the hot wires one they started toasting everything, but by now he didn't feel the urge to listen enraptured-- he knew the rules. Dad just liked to be safe. He was a doctor, after all…
Finally, after everyone else had their s'mores pieces and all the kids were dangling their mallow-sticks in the warm fire, Alex earned his own marshmallow. Gratefully, he grabbed one of the remaining wires and calculatedly wedged the wad of condensed sugar onto its end, then started to run to join his friends. "Alexander--" The call cut his run short, and he slowed to a more proper pace, happily stretching out his stick when he reached the bonfire. Alex preferred his marshmallows to be black on the outside, because then they were extra-gooey on the inside, but Dad didn't let him stick the metal too far in. So, to make it work, Alex had to wait… and wait… and wait… but, he told himself, it would be completely worth it when his teeth broke into the s'more and it practically melted in his mouth. Mmmm… He kept waiting patiently, at the edge of the bonfire, one hand holding the marshmallow stick and the other holding a graham cracker- and- chocolate sandwich.
A couple of his friends had already finished their s'mores and were now sword fighting with their thin metal rods. They'd just moved around to get out of sight of their parents, who were under the back porch talking in a little circle of grown-ups. Alex automatically remembered his father's words, despite the fact that now they were just rote memory. "Hey, you're not supposed to do that," he called to his friends, but they were too busy making "HA!" and "EN GUARD!" sounds to hear him, or maybe they just didn't care. They were jumping around now, really close to the fire, and all his dad's warnings swirled in his head, making him nervous for his friends. "Hey!" he called louder, swooping over so he was nearly between them, "You're not supposed to play with those! My dad--"
"C'mon, you play, too!" one of them, Blake, insisted, but Alex shook his head. Just as his eyes turned away from his friend, the sound of metal slicing the air caught him, and Alex stumbled away just in time. "Hey!"
"Come on!" Blake called again, and gave another jab toward Alex, just as Blake's mother finally noticed him. "Blake Stillman, you put that--"
But it was too late. Blake's jab startled Alex, and in his sudden effort o dodge it by backing up, he put himself close enough for one of those warm, familiar flickers of flame to reach out and lick him.
In an instant, he screamed his throat raw.
It had just gotten his leg, and not even a lot of it-- just a good lick of the backside of his calve. That's how he would describe it later-- casually, as if it hadn't scared him for his life, or hurt him worse than he could remember ever hurting. So many people had immediately surrounded him after he screamed, and none of them were his two sword-fighting friends. Someone was tugging at his pants-leg, and he screamed again, wanting more than anything to kick the person away, but he couldn't. He just couldn't. "Someone get me that water cooler, now!" His dad's voice. He might have been a doctor, and knew what to do for pretty much everything, but he wasn't used to dealing with emergencies in his office… he wasn't as calm as a lot of people might want him to be. As Alex wanted him to be. The tone in his voice added to the pile of fears spilling out of Alex's mind. For a minute, all he could do was cry out, and then all he could d was cry out, "Dad! Dad! Daddy! Daaaaad!" as a stinging pain washed over his leg. Water. "I'm pouring water on it, Alex. I'm pouring all the water bottles on it, and it'll cool it down, and then we can treat it."
"T-t-treat? Treat? Treat?!" For some reason, the sound in his father's voice made the panic stay in Alex longer than it should.
"Alex, shh, or I can't fix it for you," he ordered, and Alex did his best to hush. Instead of talking and stuttering and crying, he just whimpered. It burns!!
After a few more douses of water, the searing pain was at least bearable. It still hurt like crazy, but Alex was pretty sure now he wouldn't completely burn up, even if his heart was going nuts inside of him, and he was still shaking. "Alex, I'm going to pick you up and take you in the house. We'll bandage it, then you are going to rest in your bed. I won't leave you alone."
"Mmhmm," Alex confirmed, feeling safer once his dad was walking him into the house, even if his friends were all watching him being carried like a baby. They'd want it too if they fell into the fire. I fell into the fire! Blake! "Dad, Blake wasn't listening, and he--"
"I know, he told me what he did. His mom has him outside, talking to him. He's so sorry, Alex… How does it feel, one to ten?"
Alex thought about it, scrunching up his face in the meanwhile. "Nine and three-quarters," he decided bravely through his grimace.
He'd set Alex on the long kitchen counter, where he could stretch out his leg without it touching against anything. Dad scrubbed his hands, and took out the extensive first aide kit from under the sink. Soon he'd lathered Alex's leg with some kinds of creams or ointments or things, and wrapped it in clean bandages. "It's done, Alex."
"Do I have to look at it?"
"No… Not now. Maybe when I change the bandage you can see it."
"I don't want to… Why does it still burn so much?" Alex asked earnestly. He cast an anxious glance at the white-wrapped wound. It didn't take much imagination to picture the white-hot heat radiating from his leg. Into his leg. "Can I cry now, Daddy?"
"You don't need to cry, Alex. I know it hurts, but it's taken care of, and I'll keep looking after it," his dad answered, now sounding much calmer that everything was under control. "It's going to keep burning, but I'll get you something for that. I'm going to put you to bed and will bring you some water and you need to drink it all. Don't just drink one sip and say you're done," he insisted as he scooped up Alex one more time. Alex grimaced again at the movement.
Once in bed, Dad moved the covers so that Alex's leg was exposed to the cool air, but he covered the rest of Alex in an odd C-shaped design of the blankets. "I'm going to get some medicine for your burn, so Ian will stay in here with you until I'm back, all right? Drink your water."
It took a month to completely heal. And when it did, Alex was left with a reddish-pink mottled scar to remind him.
They kept hosting the bonfire, but Alex never went very close to it after that.
One time, when he was sixteen, he'd asked a girl from school to come to the bonfire. He wouldn't be hanging out near the bonfire itself, but over to the side, sometimes playing with Stringed Up Anxiety, sometimes just chilling. Her name was Rosie, and she kept asking him to come stand with her by the bonfire. To make smores. To warm their hands. To make memories. Alex just shook his head. A small smile was on his face each time. "I want to do other things," he'd give as a general excuse. Which was a true one, too.
Eventually, Rosie got tired of his dodging. "What, are you scared of it or something? What's it going to do, bite you?" She snapped at him. He didn't hear her snap very much at all… He'd really gotten under her skin. Alex sighed, stood up, and said, "Yeah, I am. I already got burned once," he muttered, his smile fading as he reached down to lift one pant-leg. "See?"
"Oh… um, ouch…" Rosie suddenly sounded like she felt extremely awkward. Like Alex had made her feel extremely awkward.
At the end of the bonfire, and when Alex had dropped her back off at her house, Rosie thanked him for inviting her. Even though she hadn't said much after he made her feel awkward. If something as little as a scar and awkward moment could scare her off, then she wasn't worth chasing. Still, Alex wondered if it would be that big a deal to people… it was already hard enough for a lot of girls to see him as anything beyond "that really short guy in the band." Ah, well… he'd work around it, just like he was working around his height. It wasn't like it was that important…
The autumn air seemed to constantly flicker with warm lights, the oranges and yellows swirling about in the cooling weather in the forms of lithe leaves and dancing flames. Alex's family's backyard was big enough to host the yearly bonfire-- the one that attracted both family and friends, people stopping by from down the street just to hand out and chat, or to hear String Up Anxiety. Alex liked to go to watch that band, too, especially to watch his Uncle Wyatt behind the saxophone. Alex played the trumpet in his band, but it was just a school band. They didn't get to play for parties or weddings or anything like Uncle Wyatt and the rest of String Up Anxiety did. They didn't even have a band name-- they were just the Audubon Community School Band. And now bits and pieces of the Audubon School Band ran around the Pierces' backyard, friends from school or the neighborhood who joined him for band class every other day. Now they were tossing leaves at the bonfire and watching them disappear, or playing tag far on the other side of the yard, per parents' orders, or sitting there with Alex, watching the band play and dancing, or mimicking what the musicians were doing. It was at least an annual event, and always had been, at least in Alex's memory.
The sun had set for a while now, and the sky fell cool and heavy in its thick night blue. "Hey, I'm bringing out the stuff for s'mores!" Alex immediately looked up at the call for s'mores, and the loud and excited squeals of the kids filled his ears as they all drew to his dad like very energetic flies to honey. Richard Pierce stepped out of the doorway, arms full of bags of marshmallows and chocolate bars. "Alex, bring out the boxes of graham crackers, please."
"Yes, sir," Alex answered with a nod and was soon following his father out, his own arms similarly full now. Immediately he was put to work, helping his dad open all the supplies and then handing out the long wires for everyone to use with the marshmallows as they toasted them in the amber fire. Alex heard his dad's voice going on about the safety with the marshmallows and the hot wires one they started toasting everything, but by now he didn't feel the urge to listen enraptured-- he knew the rules. Dad just liked to be safe. He was a doctor, after all…
Finally, after everyone else had their s'mores pieces and all the kids were dangling their mallow-sticks in the warm fire, Alex earned his own marshmallow. Gratefully, he grabbed one of the remaining wires and calculatedly wedged the wad of condensed sugar onto its end, then started to run to join his friends. "Alexander--" The call cut his run short, and he slowed to a more proper pace, happily stretching out his stick when he reached the bonfire. Alex preferred his marshmallows to be black on the outside, because then they were extra-gooey on the inside, but Dad didn't let him stick the metal too far in. So, to make it work, Alex had to wait… and wait… and wait… but, he told himself, it would be completely worth it when his teeth broke into the s'more and it practically melted in his mouth. Mmmm… He kept waiting patiently, at the edge of the bonfire, one hand holding the marshmallow stick and the other holding a graham cracker- and- chocolate sandwich.
A couple of his friends had already finished their s'mores and were now sword fighting with their thin metal rods. They'd just moved around to get out of sight of their parents, who were under the back porch talking in a little circle of grown-ups. Alex automatically remembered his father's words, despite the fact that now they were just rote memory. "Hey, you're not supposed to do that," he called to his friends, but they were too busy making "HA!" and "EN GUARD!" sounds to hear him, or maybe they just didn't care. They were jumping around now, really close to the fire, and all his dad's warnings swirled in his head, making him nervous for his friends. "Hey!" he called louder, swooping over so he was nearly between them, "You're not supposed to play with those! My dad--"
"C'mon, you play, too!" one of them, Blake, insisted, but Alex shook his head. Just as his eyes turned away from his friend, the sound of metal slicing the air caught him, and Alex stumbled away just in time. "Hey!"
"Come on!" Blake called again, and gave another jab toward Alex, just as Blake's mother finally noticed him. "Blake Stillman, you put that--"
But it was too late. Blake's jab startled Alex, and in his sudden effort o dodge it by backing up, he put himself close enough for one of those warm, familiar flickers of flame to reach out and lick him.
In an instant, he screamed his throat raw.
It had just gotten his leg, and not even a lot of it-- just a good lick of the backside of his calve. That's how he would describe it later-- casually, as if it hadn't scared him for his life, or hurt him worse than he could remember ever hurting. So many people had immediately surrounded him after he screamed, and none of them were his two sword-fighting friends. Someone was tugging at his pants-leg, and he screamed again, wanting more than anything to kick the person away, but he couldn't. He just couldn't. "Someone get me that water cooler, now!" His dad's voice. He might have been a doctor, and knew what to do for pretty much everything, but he wasn't used to dealing with emergencies in his office… he wasn't as calm as a lot of people might want him to be. As Alex wanted him to be. The tone in his voice added to the pile of fears spilling out of Alex's mind. For a minute, all he could do was cry out, and then all he could d was cry out, "Dad! Dad! Daddy! Daaaaad!" as a stinging pain washed over his leg. Water. "I'm pouring water on it, Alex. I'm pouring all the water bottles on it, and it'll cool it down, and then we can treat it."
"T-t-treat? Treat? Treat?!" For some reason, the sound in his father's voice made the panic stay in Alex longer than it should.
"Alex, shh, or I can't fix it for you," he ordered, and Alex did his best to hush. Instead of talking and stuttering and crying, he just whimpered. It burns!!
After a few more douses of water, the searing pain was at least bearable. It still hurt like crazy, but Alex was pretty sure now he wouldn't completely burn up, even if his heart was going nuts inside of him, and he was still shaking. "Alex, I'm going to pick you up and take you in the house. We'll bandage it, then you are going to rest in your bed. I won't leave you alone."
"Mmhmm," Alex confirmed, feeling safer once his dad was walking him into the house, even if his friends were all watching him being carried like a baby. They'd want it too if they fell into the fire. I fell into the fire! Blake! "Dad, Blake wasn't listening, and he--"
"I know, he told me what he did. His mom has him outside, talking to him. He's so sorry, Alex… How does it feel, one to ten?"
Alex thought about it, scrunching up his face in the meanwhile. "Nine and three-quarters," he decided bravely through his grimace.
He'd set Alex on the long kitchen counter, where he could stretch out his leg without it touching against anything. Dad scrubbed his hands, and took out the extensive first aide kit from under the sink. Soon he'd lathered Alex's leg with some kinds of creams or ointments or things, and wrapped it in clean bandages. "It's done, Alex."
"Do I have to look at it?"
"No… Not now. Maybe when I change the bandage you can see it."
"I don't want to… Why does it still burn so much?" Alex asked earnestly. He cast an anxious glance at the white-wrapped wound. It didn't take much imagination to picture the white-hot heat radiating from his leg. Into his leg. "Can I cry now, Daddy?"
"You don't need to cry, Alex. I know it hurts, but it's taken care of, and I'll keep looking after it," his dad answered, now sounding much calmer that everything was under control. "It's going to keep burning, but I'll get you something for that. I'm going to put you to bed and will bring you some water and you need to drink it all. Don't just drink one sip and say you're done," he insisted as he scooped up Alex one more time. Alex grimaced again at the movement.
Once in bed, Dad moved the covers so that Alex's leg was exposed to the cool air, but he covered the rest of Alex in an odd C-shaped design of the blankets. "I'm going to get some medicine for your burn, so Ian will stay in here with you until I'm back, all right? Drink your water."
It took a month to completely heal. And when it did, Alex was left with a reddish-pink mottled scar to remind him.
They kept hosting the bonfire, but Alex never went very close to it after that.
One time, when he was sixteen, he'd asked a girl from school to come to the bonfire. He wouldn't be hanging out near the bonfire itself, but over to the side, sometimes playing with Stringed Up Anxiety, sometimes just chilling. Her name was Rosie, and she kept asking him to come stand with her by the bonfire. To make smores. To warm their hands. To make memories. Alex just shook his head. A small smile was on his face each time. "I want to do other things," he'd give as a general excuse. Which was a true one, too.
Eventually, Rosie got tired of his dodging. "What, are you scared of it or something? What's it going to do, bite you?" She snapped at him. He didn't hear her snap very much at all… He'd really gotten under her skin. Alex sighed, stood up, and said, "Yeah, I am. I already got burned once," he muttered, his smile fading as he reached down to lift one pant-leg. "See?"
"Oh… um, ouch…" Rosie suddenly sounded like she felt extremely awkward. Like Alex had made her feel extremely awkward.
At the end of the bonfire, and when Alex had dropped her back off at her house, Rosie thanked him for inviting her. Even though she hadn't said much after he made her feel awkward. If something as little as a scar and awkward moment could scare her off, then she wasn't worth chasing. Still, Alex wondered if it would be that big a deal to people… it was already hard enough for a lot of girls to see him as anything beyond "that really short guy in the band." Ah, well… he'd work around it, just like he was working around his height. It wasn't like it was that important…
-Mascii(: