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Note: These stories were written way back when and I'm not at all fond of them. I've edited them a little. You know, put commas in places and such. Read at your own peril. I sinerely appologise for the poem. I was 13 years old, not that it's really a defense, but still.
Omen.
Formerly known as "The Beginning of The End" and "I See" before that.
By Lyn.
That's the trouble with omens. You never know if they're saying "Yes, you will have a great victory", or for the other guy, saying "You will slaughter them with gusto". - unknown.
Prologue
Another day of searching, another day of turning up nothing, another day of my life wasted, thought Miss Parker as she drove home from the Centre. The day had been particularly tiring; Lyle had been assigned to her team permanently after Raines’ new rules and Cox had hinted he’d happily deal with anyone not playing along.
Miss Parker arrived home and slammed her car door. The front door rattled in its hinges when she slammed that one too - just for good measure. She considered going to the shooting range in an attempt to work of some of her anger, but decided she would just be a danger.
She glanced around her living room; everything was in its place, no clues or secret messages or presents from Jarod today. Good. Maybe she could have one night to herself.
Lying down on the couch with her heals kicked off Miss Parker felt more relaxed than she had all day. Looking for something mindless to do, she reached across to the coffee table for her laptop and logged into her personal email, only to find she had a message.
She got up for a drink while trying not to notice the lack of Sender details on the email. When she came back the email had loaded.
It was a poem, and she didn’t need three guesses to figure out who had sent it.
I see a life I should have had,
I see a smile I should have worn,
I see the one I could have had,
I see the face I should have known,
I know what I see is what would have been, had I gone down the other path,
I would be just watching as the family we could have,
would have,
should have
laughs and smiles.
My eyes are filled with tears as it fades away.
I tear my eyes off that happy scene and wish, with all my heart, that the road I'm on leads there one day,
and one day soon.
Don't we deserve that scene?
- J
The shrill sound of her cell phone interrupted the uncomfortable silence that had settled on the room.
"What?" she said wearily.
"Did you read the email?"
"Yes, who knew you were such an awful poet. Guess your genius never extended to love poems, but where did the inspiration come from?"
"A dream," he said simply.
There was silence. Miss Parker fingered with the glass in her hand, shaking it slightly and listening to the ice clink against the side.
Suddenly: "Yes.”
"What?" Jarod asked, confused at the sudden turn.
"We deserve that scene," she replied sadly, but before Jarod could respond, she was gone.
"We deserve it as much as anyone, maybe more."
Disconnecting the call, Jarod lay down on what his rented accommodations called a bed. It was hard and uncomfortable but he looked forward to sleep regardless. Lately the nightmares had abated, replaced with a vivid dream of Miss Parker bouncing a happy baby and himself playing with two young children. As he started to drift off he became all the more certain it was an omen for the future. “Someday, Parker, someday,” he murmured as his eyelids closed.
Miss Parker saved the email, making note to print it off as soon as she could, and then went to her own bedroom. The exhaustion, which had momentarily abated during her conversation, returned in full force. She got changed into her most comfortable nightclothes and was asleep as soon as she got under the covers. That night she dreamed, like Jarod, of a baby and two children, all happy and Centre free.
When she awoke in the morning the words, “Someday, Jarod, someday,” were on her lips.
Formerly known as "The Beginning of The End" and "I See" before that.
By Lyn.
That's the trouble with omens. You never know if they're saying "Yes, you will have a great victory", or for the other guy, saying "You will slaughter them with gusto". - unknown.
Prologue
Another day of searching, another day of turning up nothing, another day of my life wasted, thought Miss Parker as she drove home from the Centre. The day had been particularly tiring; Lyle had been assigned to her team permanently after Raines’ new rules and Cox had hinted he’d happily deal with anyone not playing along.
Miss Parker arrived home and slammed her car door. The front door rattled in its hinges when she slammed that one too - just for good measure. She considered going to the shooting range in an attempt to work of some of her anger, but decided she would just be a danger.
She glanced around her living room; everything was in its place, no clues or secret messages or presents from Jarod today. Good. Maybe she could have one night to herself.
Lying down on the couch with her heals kicked off Miss Parker felt more relaxed than she had all day. Looking for something mindless to do, she reached across to the coffee table for her laptop and logged into her personal email, only to find she had a message.
She got up for a drink while trying not to notice the lack of Sender details on the email. When she came back the email had loaded.
It was a poem, and she didn’t need three guesses to figure out who had sent it.
I see a life I should have had,
I see a smile I should have worn,
I see the one I could have had,
I see the face I should have known,
I know what I see is what would have been, had I gone down the other path,
I would be just watching as the family we could have,
would have,
should have
laughs and smiles.
My eyes are filled with tears as it fades away.
I tear my eyes off that happy scene and wish, with all my heart, that the road I'm on leads there one day,
and one day soon.
Don't we deserve that scene?
- J
The shrill sound of her cell phone interrupted the uncomfortable silence that had settled on the room.
"What?" she said wearily.
"Did you read the email?"
"Yes, who knew you were such an awful poet. Guess your genius never extended to love poems, but where did the inspiration come from?"
"A dream," he said simply.
There was silence. Miss Parker fingered with the glass in her hand, shaking it slightly and listening to the ice clink against the side.
Suddenly: "Yes.”
"What?" Jarod asked, confused at the sudden turn.
"We deserve that scene," she replied sadly, but before Jarod could respond, she was gone.
"We deserve it as much as anyone, maybe more."
Disconnecting the call, Jarod lay down on what his rented accommodations called a bed. It was hard and uncomfortable but he looked forward to sleep regardless. Lately the nightmares had abated, replaced with a vivid dream of Miss Parker bouncing a happy baby and himself playing with two young children. As he started to drift off he became all the more certain it was an omen for the future. “Someday, Parker, someday,” he murmured as his eyelids closed.
Miss Parker saved the email, making note to print it off as soon as she could, and then went to her own bedroom. The exhaustion, which had momentarily abated during her conversation, returned in full force. She got changed into her most comfortable nightclothes and was asleep as soon as she got under the covers. That night she dreamed, like Jarod, of a baby and two children, all happy and Centre free.
When she awoke in the morning the words, “Someday, Jarod, someday,” were on her lips.
