You've Got Male Models

A 20-year old prodigy heart surgeon, Chris Cahill, did not expect to share her apartment (or her life) with two aspiring male models when she finally gains her independence. A story in the process of their interesting (and equally hilarious!) adventures of three different individuals living in the present.

JournalWords

I write on a whim, and somewhere along the line, I have collected journals full of phrases and ideas that I use to spark a story. Got any ideas, feel free to share them. How would you interpret a JournalWord?

I ADORE THEM ALL!

Gladiators, Bad-ass priests, Robots, Demons, Cowboys, Demon-Cowboys, Fast-food cashiers, Ninjas, Butlers, Pirates, Sailors... The list goes on and they all make me swoon! (We are instant best buddies if you feel the same, just saying)

Bless

Albeit reluctantly, Sarah finds herself with the responsibility of raising an angel after he crashes from the sky. Sci-fi, supernatural, and a little silly.

Mera

I'm a fiend. *cheeky smile*

Showing posts with label thank. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thank. Show all posts

Tuesday, 14 May 2013

YGMM: Crowded

JournalWord: In sickness.


::

Jones tips his head back so it drapes over the back of the couch, letting off a throaty groan and pathetic sniff.

"We can hear ya," Tristan calls over the running water. He dries the last plate after Chris hands it to him and stacks it onto the dish rack to be dealt with tomorrow. "I've got you, Jonesy," he reassures as he wipes his hands on a clean towel and heads for their room. 

Chris dries her hands as well, wiping off the spilled water around the sink before hanging the towel up. She hears a series of shuffling from the living room as she heads to her own room. Without shutting the door, she gathers her patient files, pen, and notebook swiftly and turns back into the hallway. 

Jones has dropped himself to cover the length of the couch, and when Chris walks in, he is busy kicking his long legs over the back and arm as he fights for a comfortable position. He frustratingly grunts at the effort before giving up and throwing an arm over his eyes and allowing his other arm to dangle so his knuckles rest onto the floor. 

Chris settles her files and notebook onto the coffee table, and using the blunt end of her pen, pokes him  in the shoulder. "Shove over you," she commands.

He peeks from under his arm at her with irritation fixated in his expression, but grudgingly shifts to sit up so she has room. 

Tristan had walked in as well during the scene and deduces that Jones couldn't be too angry at her, because as soon as she is nestled into her seat and her work, Jones rests his head on her shoulder.

"If you drool on me, I'll murder you," Chris warns, but otherwise leaves him to close his eyes as she starts writing in her notebook.

Tristan tucks the blanket he has secured from their room around Jones, whom grunts with appreciation without opening his eyes. Figuring that he can't pass this moment by so easily, Tristan approaches the other end of the couch and, yawning widely, settles himself down and nestles his own head onto her free shoulder.

Immediately, Jones's eyes snap open to glare balefully at him. "Idiot, don't you have something else to do?" his scratchy voice demands.

Tristan replies by childishly sticking his tongue out at him. "Nope, took the day off too. I wanted to spend time with my dear Chrisy."

"Your dear Chrisy is going to maim the both of you if you don't quiet up while I'm working," she threatens, not pausing her pen. Although she was annoyed to have been called off of work to take care of Jones, she's more irritated by how much control these two boys have over her superiors in deciding when she should take a day off. 

Jones makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat and closes his eyes once again.

A scratchy throat and stuffy nose does not entail as an "emergency", or a reason to cancel her appointments and responsibilities for the day to shove lunch and medication down Jones's throat.

Tristan muses as he examines Chris's jawline and focus, having realized she's really not as angry as she portrays herself to be. Sure, she was angry initially when he had convinced Alice that Chris should tend to an emergency at home instead of dealing with work. And who knows, if Chrisy hadn't come home and taken over the nursing of poor, old Jonesy, he might have taken a turn for the worse. 

Well, at least there's no need to worry now, Tristan speculates and comfortably curls into Chris's side. How lucky they are to have someone drop their day just for them, and to have someone to rely on in times when neither are capable.

"Thank you, Chrisy," he whispers into her collarbone as he shuts his eyes for a nap as well.


::

I've been fighting (and failing) a series of persistent headaches, only to find out that I am having tension headaches induced by stress. So hopefully now, with the pain and dizziness under control, I can figure out what I want done :)

It seems like I'm a giant ball of stress. Maybe I'll end up popping, or blowing a blood vessel, before I can write up all my stories and ideas!

Who knows :P
Mera.




Saturday, 16 February 2013

Gratitude

2nd Part of Bless. Read that first :)

::

She unplugs the electric kettle with a tug on the cord when it starts to squeal, immediately squelching the shriek to only clouds of steam. Grabbing a mug from a cupboard overhead, Sarah pulls open a drawer to sidle through her collection of teas. She chooses a raspberry tea from a box and pulls one of the tiny bags from the stack just as her cell phone chimes from her discarded purse. 

Teabag in hand, she sliding on her tiptoes to her purse on the other side of the kitchen counter, mindful of waking up Blue in her bedroom. Adrenaline pumping, she taps at the screen without looking at the caller's name, and heaves a hello as soon as she brings the device to her ear. 

The deep voice on the other line chuckles and she relaxes at the familiar tone. "Did you just run a marathon? You sound winded; did I interrupt something important at work?" Sam asks, and if she hadn't known him since they were twelve, she would've believed he actually cared about calling while she was on the job.

"Actually, I'm taking the day off," she states and smirks at the thought of his dark eyes bulging out of their sockets in disbelief.

"You're kidding," he sputters, and she giggles childishly at his confusion. "Good, little Sarah is skipping out on her job?" He gasps comically. "Has she finally delved to the dark side? When should I bring over the tequila?"

"Hold on," she chides, shaking her blonde hair. "No more tequila. Never, not after the first time."

"We were sixteen," Sam whines, "And we're smart enough now to drink it mixed. I can make a mean tequila sunrise for the ladies."

Sarah scoffs as she's sure he's wiggling his eyebrows with his statement. "I'm sure," she replies sarcastically as she drops the teabag into her mug. "Anyways, I made it part of my conscience to never touch tequila after that, so no chance. I'll stick to my teas," she adds, pouring the steaming water over the teabag and watching the hot water stain rose as she steeps the bag. 

"Fine, but I'm curious. What has driven my sweet Sarah to ditch work, because the only time you've ever taken a day off was after being sent home by your boss. I had to pick you up and you were delirious with a fever and looked like a living hell, and strangely enough, right now you're coherent."

She pauses, glancing at the bedroom door, opened at a crack so she can see the tiny lump in her comforter. "I brought home someone," she starts and instantly corrects herself, "I mean, not a man, but a boy! He was in the park during my break and he's wrapped head to toe in bandages. I think he's running away from abuse, Sam."

Sam blows out a soft breath on the other end of the line and Sarah runs her hand over her face, flustered by her slip-up, realizing that she sounds insane.

"You have gone absolutely mental," he finally says. "That can be the only explanation for why you'd kidnap a boy from the park." He isn't yelling, but his tone is edgy like he isn't quite sure he believes her. 

"He's hurt and he only has a coat. He had no shoes, Sam, I had to do something," she defends, gripping the cellphone in her hands while worrying her lip between her teeth.

"I understand where you're going with this. I know you and you wouldn't do anything to the kid, but this is still kidnapping. You can go to jail for this. You could have taken him to the police. Sarah, does Joel know?"

"No, he doesn't," she relents, but quickly changes the subject. "I did ask Blue but he refuses to speak, and I promised to take him to his house or the police tomorrow morning, before Joel knows about this. Sam, I can't just leave a runaway, you know that, and Joel doesn't need to get involved..." She trails off, suddenly overwhelmed by her decisions and past.

He sighs again. "I know, I know," he trails thoughtfully, "Just let me come over. I'll be at your apartment in five minutes. Calm down and let me figure this out for you."

She squeaks out a simple "Okay" and waits for him to hang up before she ends the call. Placing her phone on the island, she drops herself onto a bar stool and swivels to grab her mug before swiveling back to the island. 

What was I thinking, taking a kid home? Is this kidnapping? "Dammit," she whispers, tapping the knuckles of her clenched fist against the furrows appearing on her forehead. And she hadn't thought about Joel and his reaction to this.

Sam must have taken the stairs at a sprint from his apartment three floors above hers because he knocks at the door just then. Standing, she opens the door for him and he instantly greets her by gripping her shoulders with both his hands and bending at the waist to kiss her lightly on her forehead. 

"Don't you worry about a thing, sweets," he says and she realizes that her panic is showing on her face. "Now where is he?"

He isn't looking at her anymore, instead, his eyes sweep over the living room and kitchen. He is still driven by the rush of running to her apartment and she almost laughs at the curls of his messy dark hair that stick out around his head as if he had just woken up, which she suspects would be correct considering his attire of sweatpants, flip-flops and wrinkled gym tee.

"He's sleeping," she supplies, guiding him towards the kitchen and shutting the door as he steps out of the doorway. 

She joins him at the island and points to her bedroom where the little bump rises and falls with silent snores. Sam creeps quietly to the hallway and she opens up a cupboard to grab another mug from the shelf. 

"What's his name? What did he tell you? How old is he? I thought he'd be a teenager," Sam confesses, climbing onto a stool as she searches for the stash of hot chocolate packs Sam likes whenever he comes over.  

"He doesn't speak. I don't know anything about him, only that he doesn't want to go home or to the police. He wouldn't say his name so I just call him Blue, because of his eyes." She sticks a spoon into the mug after pouring out the contents of the hot chocolate pack and drowning the powder in steaming water. 

He accepts the mug and immediately starts stirring. "This is crazy." He shakes his head and props his chin on his free hand, leaning on the counter as he yawns. "You know nothing about him, much less children. For all you know, he could rob you and take off, or kill you!"

She laughs and he glares as he takes a sip of the hot chocolate. "That's preposterous, Sam. He's just a sweet little kid. I mean, I found him playing with the pigeons in the park."

Sam raises an eyebrow beneath his squashed mop of dark locks. "Found him? Where was he? Your park is just a brick path between a couple trees," he recalls, remembering her favorite place in the city that she spent her breaks in. 

She purses her lips and steals a glance at the bedroom door. "You're not going to believe this, but for a second, I saw a huge flock of pigeons fall from the sky. It was like a ball of feathers smashing into the trees so I chased after it; it was absolutely phenomenal. And when I found the birds, Blue was sitting right in the middle of the landing, covered in pigeons! And when I saw him, wrapped up in bandages, I didn't know what to do, and he wouldn't let go of me so we compromised and I said he could stay with me tonight then I could take him to the police in the morning." When he frowns she pleads, "Sam, just one night of running away is enough, and it's not like I'm helping him leave home forever. He won't make my mistake."

He sets his mug on the island and runs his fingers through his hair and she is, once again, grateful to have Sam, even when she has no one else. He's the only one who didn't abandon her, and the only one who followed her to the city. She lets a small smile touch her lips as he blows out another breath, in thought, as he attempts to help her fix her mess. 

"And Joel doesn't know?" he asks lightly and Sarah frowns at his insistence.

"No, he doesn't. He doesn't need to know anyways," she pleads with a set purse of her lips. 

He holds up his hands beside his face with an apology hanging off his lips. "I get it, I get it. You know how I feel about this marriage. Although, this situation isn't really helping with the wedding coming up and all."

Suddenly her bedroom door creaks open and they both turn to face the boy in the hallway, effectively cutting off any retort of Sarah's. He is wrapped in her comforter, concealing his slim bandaged body, with most of the comforter trailing behind him. He smiles when he sees her and she is instantly enchanted by his cherub grin peeking from between the floral folds. Blue tilts his fair head at Sam, his smile faltering slightly, and Sam hops off his stool, plastering a smile on his sleepy face as he greets the boy. 

"Hey kid, I'm Sam, Sarah's friend," he starts, hand outstretched, but stops when Blue slips between his hand and the kitchen doorway in a flurry of the thick blanket, burying himself into Sarah's side. Blue glares menacingly at Sam from behind Sarah, and Sam is surprised by the ferocious chill that emanates from behind the large bright cerulean irises. 

Sarah attempts to soothe Blue, surprised by his reaction to Sam. Placing a hand on his soft hair, she redirects Blue's attention to her, where he immediately lifts his lips to smile when they lock eyes. "Sam is my best friend, he's not going to do anything," and she meaningfully raises her eyebrows at Sam and waits for his stubborn affirmation before continuing. "Now, you didn't sleep for very long, would you like some juice?"

He nods enthusiastically, but doesn't release his hold on her arm as she stands. She gently pries his fingers from her sleeve and gestures him towards her stool, all the while noting the straight mouth and crossed arms of Sam's disapproval. 

When Blue climbs up onto the stool, she turns to grab a glass from the dish rack, quickly locating orange juice in her fridge. Pivoting to face her guests, Sarah is slammed with the obvious tension between the two boys. The intensity of Sam's displeasure is startling considering his adoration of children. She places the glass on the table, intercepting the staring contest, and pours the juice into the glass.

"Your scarf," Sam mutters and coughs, and she pops her head up at his voice. He takes a sip of his mug and tips his head up in Blue's direction without meeting her eyes. "He's wearing the scarf I gave you, and nothing else," he adds in a muttered tone, indicating the pop of green peeking out from under Blue's chin. 

Remembering Blue's outfit underneath the comforter, she quickly hands Sam the carton in her hand and pushes the glass of juice towards Blue. "Blue, you must be cold. Let me get you something to wear!" 

In an instant, Sarah is out of the kitchen and in her bedroom, ripping open her closet to search for something to cover Blue. How did I forget that all he's wearing is bandages? I would make a terrible mother... Finding a stack of her collection of jerseys, all procured from Sam who insists that she buy one at every sporting event he invites her to, she bundles the stack in her arms and separates them from the mess she has made. 

Triumphant at her luck, she doesn't notice that Blue has sidled beside her on the floor, devoid of the comforter, in front of her closet until he reaches for the bright green jersey of a local hockey team. He tugs at the jersey caught in the stack and she releases her hold on the jerseys so he can pull it out. 

"Blue likes green," Sam notes from her bedroom door and she smiles when Blue admires the jersey with wide eyes. "Maybe you should change his bandages," Sam suggests and Sarah hops back onto her feet to search for her first aid kit in the bathroom, cursing her own incapability to care for children, but eternally grateful to have Sam who has the experience.

::

The second part of Bless
I'm planning on mapping out these characters (It's been a while since I've done that...), so hopefully this story works out better than my other, not-planned-at-all, attempts. 

Questions will be answered as the story moves along, but feel free to point them out (they'll remind me what needs to be explained. I'm so focused in my own head that I need the reminders). 

Oh! And definitely let me know if you can find all the little character hints about Blue, Sarah, and Sam! I put them in to be noticed (that is, if you did...), and all the other English-class analysis junk :P I took too many of those classes to let them go to waste.

Welcome to my head
-Mera!

 
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