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Sep. 21st, 2003 03:42 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
suaine.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictionThis is the epitome of suck - and not the good kind either - but a challenge needs to be answered. I'm sorry for the weirdness, sadness and over-all badness of the piece, but my regular betas are rather un-fond of Due South.
A place to remember
by Suaine
The cabin belonged to her, the will said so. She had no idea why she'd even been on it, as her mother had had a falling out with the family when she was four years old and she'd only been to the cabin once, that last Christmas when everything still seemed to be all right.
Her hand still gripped the keys tight, enough to break the skin, drawing a tiny bead of blood. The pain was a welcome distraction from the dusty confines of stale memories and staler air. No living creature had been here for twenty years at least, not after Ray and Ben had moved to a more convenient locale. With hospitals and a vet.
Something moved at the edge of her vision, though when she turned there was nothing but shadows and dust. She let the light of her Maglite trail along the mantelpiece, coming to rest on a old and faded photograph. Ben and Ray, looking much younger than she remembered, with a white dog and three kids about the age of nine. The one to the right, scowling like nobody's business, was her mother. For a moment she almost thought she could hear their voices in the darkness.
And then she did.
[I told you to keep this ... this disgusting display away from my child.]
It was an old argument, the one she'd replayed a thousand times over in her four year old mind. She'd been nosy, trying to catch Santa Claus as he brought them their presents. Her cousins all slept tangled up on the living room floor, cuddling in the makeshift beds that children loved so much. But she'd felt the urge to explore, she wanted proof of Santa's existence. What she found... what she found was the image of real love, burned into her brain forever.
[I don't want her to grow up queer.}
She'd already had an inkling that Santa Claus wasn't real in the way trees and snow were real. Ben said that it was her logical mind, something she'd apparently inherited from her mother. But now she saw them, working side by side to arrange the presents for all the kids in the other room, sharing a glance here and quick kiss there. It was like watching mom and dad cuddle on the sofa before dad left, only it was Ben and Ray. They looked good, comfortable and warm.
[What kind of grandparents do you think you could be, doing these unnatural things ... committing these sins?]
Hell broke loose when they prepared to leave three days later and she mentioned what she'd seen to her mother. She had never before seen her mother with such pure rage on her face. For the first time she was afraid of what her mother would do, but the malice that dropped from her words seemed almost worse than a physical blow.
[I never want you near my daughter again. You freaks of nature.]
They never came back. When she was old enough she visited Ben and Ray on her own, but by that time they'd moved out of the cabin and south. Closer to civilization. When she came to visit, Ben and Ray were as nice as ever, nicer possibly, but there was a shadow across their faces, a pain she knew she was the cause of. Her visits became less frequent and after a while they stopped.
[No, I never used to be like that, but Frank opened my eyes. He made me realize who you really were... and I don't want you near me or mine again. Ever.]
And then Ben and Ray just left, took of on a dog sled with provisions for a month and a team of dogs led by Diefenbaker, III. The dogs returned alone. They'd had a funeral that her mother didn't got to. Aunt Maggie, the old silly bat, looked frail and wrought for the first time since... for the first time ever.
[I don't have a family anymore. My parents died a long time ago and I was a orphan since then.]
The voices faded into the darkness again, whether they were mere memory or something more, they vanished into the shadows. There was a strange silence all around her, like something had come to an end. Like the keys finally fit in the lock and turned... turned and opened the part of her heart that held all the guilt and sorrow.
[We won't come back, Millie, and you better forget what you saw in that cabin. We're on our own now.]
Yes, they'd been on their own ever since then. Too long. Tears started to run down her face, tiny rivers of pain that etched their way through the dust. She didn't know whether the shadows were still there, whether anyone could hear her.
"I'm sorry, sorry that I caused you so much pain. Just so you know, I think she always loved you, even when she tried to hurt you."
She left the keys on the mantelpiece next to the framed picture. Maybe it was a complete lie, maybe her mother really was a nasty bitch and maybe she'd done all this out of the depth of her black and evil heart - but Ben and Ray didn't need to know that. She didn't see the smiles on the faces of the two men in the photograph when she left, leaving the door behind her open just a crack, but she had a hunch. Maybe she'd come back here, with someone to love all her own. She had a feeling that the cabin was the right place for a family, for her loved ones. Even when love turned out to be not enough.
- Ende -
A place to remember
by Suaine
The cabin belonged to her, the will said so. She had no idea why she'd even been on it, as her mother had had a falling out with the family when she was four years old and she'd only been to the cabin once, that last Christmas when everything still seemed to be all right.
Her hand still gripped the keys tight, enough to break the skin, drawing a tiny bead of blood. The pain was a welcome distraction from the dusty confines of stale memories and staler air. No living creature had been here for twenty years at least, not after Ray and Ben had moved to a more convenient locale. With hospitals and a vet.
Something moved at the edge of her vision, though when she turned there was nothing but shadows and dust. She let the light of her Maglite trail along the mantelpiece, coming to rest on a old and faded photograph. Ben and Ray, looking much younger than she remembered, with a white dog and three kids about the age of nine. The one to the right, scowling like nobody's business, was her mother. For a moment she almost thought she could hear their voices in the darkness.
And then she did.
[I told you to keep this ... this disgusting display away from my child.]
It was an old argument, the one she'd replayed a thousand times over in her four year old mind. She'd been nosy, trying to catch Santa Claus as he brought them their presents. Her cousins all slept tangled up on the living room floor, cuddling in the makeshift beds that children loved so much. But she'd felt the urge to explore, she wanted proof of Santa's existence. What she found... what she found was the image of real love, burned into her brain forever.
[I don't want her to grow up queer.}
She'd already had an inkling that Santa Claus wasn't real in the way trees and snow were real. Ben said that it was her logical mind, something she'd apparently inherited from her mother. But now she saw them, working side by side to arrange the presents for all the kids in the other room, sharing a glance here and quick kiss there. It was like watching mom and dad cuddle on the sofa before dad left, only it was Ben and Ray. They looked good, comfortable and warm.
[What kind of grandparents do you think you could be, doing these unnatural things ... committing these sins?]
Hell broke loose when they prepared to leave three days later and she mentioned what she'd seen to her mother. She had never before seen her mother with such pure rage on her face. For the first time she was afraid of what her mother would do, but the malice that dropped from her words seemed almost worse than a physical blow.
[I never want you near my daughter again. You freaks of nature.]
They never came back. When she was old enough she visited Ben and Ray on her own, but by that time they'd moved out of the cabin and south. Closer to civilization. When she came to visit, Ben and Ray were as nice as ever, nicer possibly, but there was a shadow across their faces, a pain she knew she was the cause of. Her visits became less frequent and after a while they stopped.
[No, I never used to be like that, but Frank opened my eyes. He made me realize who you really were... and I don't want you near me or mine again. Ever.]
And then Ben and Ray just left, took of on a dog sled with provisions for a month and a team of dogs led by Diefenbaker, III. The dogs returned alone. They'd had a funeral that her mother didn't got to. Aunt Maggie, the old silly bat, looked frail and wrought for the first time since... for the first time ever.
[I don't have a family anymore. My parents died a long time ago and I was a orphan since then.]
The voices faded into the darkness again, whether they were mere memory or something more, they vanished into the shadows. There was a strange silence all around her, like something had come to an end. Like the keys finally fit in the lock and turned... turned and opened the part of her heart that held all the guilt and sorrow.
[We won't come back, Millie, and you better forget what you saw in that cabin. We're on our own now.]
Yes, they'd been on their own ever since then. Too long. Tears started to run down her face, tiny rivers of pain that etched their way through the dust. She didn't know whether the shadows were still there, whether anyone could hear her.
"I'm sorry, sorry that I caused you so much pain. Just so you know, I think she always loved you, even when she tried to hurt you."
She left the keys on the mantelpiece next to the framed picture. Maybe it was a complete lie, maybe her mother really was a nasty bitch and maybe she'd done all this out of the depth of her black and evil heart - but Ben and Ray didn't need to know that. She didn't see the smiles on the faces of the two men in the photograph when she left, leaving the door behind her open just a crack, but she had a hunch. Maybe she'd come back here, with someone to love all her own. She had a feeling that the cabin was the right place for a family, for her loved ones. Even when love turned out to be not enough.
- Ende -
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Date: 2003-09-21 01:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-21 02:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-21 03:13 pm (UTC)*blush* you think? Thanks.
no subject
Date: 2003-09-21 04:15 pm (UTC)am glad it wasn't as sad as i first feared. (they had each other~)
no subject
Date: 2003-09-21 06:59 pm (UTC)Except...I'm probably dumb, but I can't figure out whose child she is. Not Maggie, because she calls her "Aunt Maggie," so how is her mother related to Ray and/or Ben?
no subject
Date: 2003-09-21 07:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-21 10:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-21 10:04 pm (UTC)Which goes to prove that this story does NOT suck, at least not by my definition of a story sucking. Because, when a story sucks, I can't be bothered to sit through more than a reading.
What you presented was an intriguing, bitter sweet vision of a far off future, written wisely and knowledgeably.
For what it's worth, I think it was brilliant, as well as lovely.
no subject
Date: 2003-09-22 02:56 pm (UTC)So sad how her mother stayed loyal to the ideals of the man who left her instead of the parents who raised her with love and tolerance. Some people never get it do they?
no subject
Date: 2003-09-22 05:59 pm (UTC)They never came back. When she was old enough she visited Ben and Ray on her own, but by that time they'd moved out of the cabin and south. Closer to civilization. When she came to visit, Ben and Ray were as nice as ever, nicer possibly, but there was a shadow across their faces, a pain she knew she was the cause of.
She couldn't know what they were thinking, but I can almost picture the looks exchanged, the decisions made, by Ray and Ben.
Wonderful story.