Post by maureenj on Jul 1, 2010 22:21:07 GMT -5
Just a little one-shot I was inspired to write on the plane home from Thunderweek. Hope you enjoy, and as always creative criticism and critique is most welcome!
To set the scene:
Ryan and Damian stand on a narrow concrete ledge as the wind whistles around them, ruffling their hair. With slow, nervous movements, Damian sidles closer to Ryan, nearly losing his balance several times, but always just able to keep his feet on the ledge.
"Are ye sure ye want to do this, lad?" Ryan shouts over the wind. "Ye've still got... years ahead... to live for..." The wind steals part of his words away, but the gist of it is still clear to those observers standing nearby.
Paul, who had just happened to be walking by and stopped upon seeing his 2 mates, had this horrified look on his face as he stood watching and listening. He stepped forward, just a little, as he didn't want to push them into shifting the wrong way and losing their balance, and raised his operatically trained voice.
"Don't do it, lad! He may be crazy, but you don't need to throw your life away, too!" He yelled, voice rising and falling in a very dramatic way.
Unfortunately, despite Paul's exceptionally strong lungs, all that reached Damian's ears was, "Do it, lad! Be crazy!"
At this, he edged that one final step closer to Ryan and grabbed his hand. The crowed went wild cheering, thinking that this meant they were safely coming down.
It was at this moment that George arrived arrived on the scene, and quickly taking everything in, strode rapidly to stand beside Paul. "What in God's Holy Name is going on here?!" He exclaimed.
The words had barely begun to leave his lips, however, when the inevitable happened. When Damian had grabbed Ryan's hand, he had thrown both of their balance off. Together, they struggled first to maintain, and then to recover it, but it was in vain as after mere seconds, they lost the battle and tumbled over the edge. Immediately, the crowd's cheers turned to gasps of shock and horror, especially among those who couldn't see clearly and had the news relayed to them from people closer up.
Immediately, George's long legs were eating up the distance between where he and Paul had been standing and the bridge railing Ryan and Damian had just disappeared over. Seconds after the pair's disappearance, he fell heavily against the railing, arms outstretched, and hands grasping futilely at the air as tears began to stream down his face unashamedly.
"Why, Paul!?!" He demanded of his remaining mate, who had come up behind him. "Why?! What would drive them to this extreme?! Was life truly so bad that they could no longer take it? Why didn't they talk to me? I would've helped them!" All this poured out of the kneeling Scot as he stared blindly out into the distance.
Paul gently laid a hand on George's shoulder and began speaking quietly, "George, man... They were strapped..." Only to be cut off by the outburst this statement provoked.
"This was over them being strapped for cash!?! A wee bit o' dough?! I would gladly have floated them a loan! They ought to 'ave known that! Carrie would have me hide if I didn't! Money, no matter the amount, is nay worth the lives o' two such fine, strapping young men!"
Paul tried again, "George..."
"Nay! Hush thee, man, and let me grieve! Care ye not that ye just witnessed the end of two of your comrade's lives?!"
This time, Paul wisely chose to remain silent, listening instead to everything going on around them and keeping the crowd back from the edge by means of his sheer formidable presence.
Some indeterminate amount of time later, George's racking sobs quieted and he knelt there, lips moving near-silently as he prayed for his friends for the final time. Eventually, this too ceased and the two men simply kept vigil there together in silence.
Suddenly, a high-pitched, low volume sound reached both their ears.
"Paul, man! How long are ye plannin' on leavin' us hangin'?! I need the loo!"
At this sound from beyond the grave, George turned to look up at Paul, who shrugged.
"I tried to tell ye, mate!" He said as he directed George's attention to the pylons directly in front of where he knelt, around which were wrapped and securely fastened several brightly coloured ropes. "They were strapped into their bungee-harnesses the whole time! They just went over a wee bit sooner than expected."
He carefully watched George's face as this information slowly registered and comprehension dawned, and for once, made the smart decision the first time 'round. As George began to rise, murder in his eyes, Paul took off running faster than anyone who knew him could have imagined he could go. As he left the scene, George hot on his tail, he yelled over his shoulder to his stranded friends. "Sorry mates! This time you're on your own!"
To set the scene:
Ryan and Damian stand on a narrow concrete ledge as the wind whistles around them, ruffling their hair. With slow, nervous movements, Damian sidles closer to Ryan, nearly losing his balance several times, but always just able to keep his feet on the ledge.
"Are ye sure ye want to do this, lad?" Ryan shouts over the wind. "Ye've still got... years ahead... to live for..." The wind steals part of his words away, but the gist of it is still clear to those observers standing nearby.
Paul, who had just happened to be walking by and stopped upon seeing his 2 mates, had this horrified look on his face as he stood watching and listening. He stepped forward, just a little, as he didn't want to push them into shifting the wrong way and losing their balance, and raised his operatically trained voice.
"Don't do it, lad! He may be crazy, but you don't need to throw your life away, too!" He yelled, voice rising and falling in a very dramatic way.
Unfortunately, despite Paul's exceptionally strong lungs, all that reached Damian's ears was, "Do it, lad! Be crazy!"
At this, he edged that one final step closer to Ryan and grabbed his hand. The crowed went wild cheering, thinking that this meant they were safely coming down.
It was at this moment that George arrived arrived on the scene, and quickly taking everything in, strode rapidly to stand beside Paul. "What in God's Holy Name is going on here?!" He exclaimed.
The words had barely begun to leave his lips, however, when the inevitable happened. When Damian had grabbed Ryan's hand, he had thrown both of their balance off. Together, they struggled first to maintain, and then to recover it, but it was in vain as after mere seconds, they lost the battle and tumbled over the edge. Immediately, the crowd's cheers turned to gasps of shock and horror, especially among those who couldn't see clearly and had the news relayed to them from people closer up.
Immediately, George's long legs were eating up the distance between where he and Paul had been standing and the bridge railing Ryan and Damian had just disappeared over. Seconds after the pair's disappearance, he fell heavily against the railing, arms outstretched, and hands grasping futilely at the air as tears began to stream down his face unashamedly.
"Why, Paul!?!" He demanded of his remaining mate, who had come up behind him. "Why?! What would drive them to this extreme?! Was life truly so bad that they could no longer take it? Why didn't they talk to me? I would've helped them!" All this poured out of the kneeling Scot as he stared blindly out into the distance.
Paul gently laid a hand on George's shoulder and began speaking quietly, "George, man... They were strapped..." Only to be cut off by the outburst this statement provoked.
"This was over them being strapped for cash!?! A wee bit o' dough?! I would gladly have floated them a loan! They ought to 'ave known that! Carrie would have me hide if I didn't! Money, no matter the amount, is nay worth the lives o' two such fine, strapping young men!"
Paul tried again, "George..."
"Nay! Hush thee, man, and let me grieve! Care ye not that ye just witnessed the end of two of your comrade's lives?!"
This time, Paul wisely chose to remain silent, listening instead to everything going on around them and keeping the crowd back from the edge by means of his sheer formidable presence.
Some indeterminate amount of time later, George's racking sobs quieted and he knelt there, lips moving near-silently as he prayed for his friends for the final time. Eventually, this too ceased and the two men simply kept vigil there together in silence.
Suddenly, a high-pitched, low volume sound reached both their ears.
"Paul, man! How long are ye plannin' on leavin' us hangin'?! I need the loo!"
At this sound from beyond the grave, George turned to look up at Paul, who shrugged.
"I tried to tell ye, mate!" He said as he directed George's attention to the pylons directly in front of where he knelt, around which were wrapped and securely fastened several brightly coloured ropes. "They were strapped into their bungee-harnesses the whole time! They just went over a wee bit sooner than expected."
He carefully watched George's face as this information slowly registered and comprehension dawned, and for once, made the smart decision the first time 'round. As George began to rise, murder in his eyes, Paul took off running faster than anyone who knew him could have imagined he could go. As he left the scene, George hot on his tail, he yelled over his shoulder to his stranded friends. "Sorry mates! This time you're on your own!"