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rainbowfic2015-01-26 11:03 pm
kay_brooke) wrote in rainbowfic2015-01-26 11:03 pm
Alien Green #21, Pineapple Yellow #20
Name: kay_brooke
Story: The Prime
Colors: Alien Green #21 (Honest to God? A serial killer owned my car? For real?), Pineapple Yellow #20 (I don't lose things. I place things in locations which later elude me)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas, Pastels (origfic_bingo prompt "a favorite place")
Word Count: 822
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: David buys the barn.
Note: Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
“They say it’s haunted.”
“Do they?” David tossed off his disinterested reply and approached the barn. He barely noticed when a thorny bush snagged the leg of his jeans. He paid no attention to how the barn’s roof sagged dangerously, or to the smell coming from inside that probably meant something had crawled in there and died. He even, for a moment, forgot that he wasn’t alone in the overgrown clearing. All he saw was the warped, weathered wood in front of him, close enough that he could see the grain and the knots. Gray from time and neglect, and David reached out one hand until his fingertips rested on the wood.
He didn’t know what he expected to happen. Maybe he thought he would feel something, anything to tell him that he had found the right spot after all.
It was so hard to remember, those first few confusing days. Everything had been a blur. He still wasn’t quite sure how he had gotten away from this place, out of the country and back to civilization, back to the people who were his family but whom he had never seen before in his life. And still, after five years, people he continued not to recognize.
He still had a tie to his past. He thought he might feel something.
He didn’t.
“Yup,” said the man with him. Chris Burke was his name, and he was the current owner of the barn and the little parcel of land it sat on. And despite the way he stood at ease, his thumbs hooked through the belt loops of his own jeans and his baseball cap pulled low against the overhead sun, David knew he was eager to get rid of it. He could see it in the man’s colors, the way they spike orange and yellow with impatience. If he was a city man, he would have been tapping his foot. But Chris Burke had the air of a man who knew things would happen when they happened.
But even that kind of patience was limited, and David could tell Burke was running out of it.
“Tell me about these ghosts,” said David, stepping back from the barn. Entirely clear-headed, which was disappointing. Maybe this wasn’t the right spot. Maybe it was just a run-down barn. It was so hard to remember.
“They say there’s voices coming from it sometimes,” Burke supplied. “Lights, at other times. And there’s stories going back a hundred years or more, before this barn was even here.”
“So it’s not really the barn that’s haunted,” said David. Lights, voices--that was promising.
“S’pose not,” said Burke. He shrugged. “I ain’t never heard or seen anything out here, anyways. Not that I come out here often.”
“How long have you owned it?”
“Technically, two years. Part of dad’s ‘estate’.” Burke unhooked his thumbs to supply the finger quotes. “Didn’t even know it was out here ‘til he passed. And what am I gonna do with it?”
“Farm it?” A bad attempt at a joke, and not even at appreciated one, judging by the way Burke twisted his lips.
“Son, I work at the car dealership. I don’t know what you think, but we’ve got more than farmers up here.”
“Sorry,” David muttered.
“Couldn’t even sell it to a farmer, anyway,” Burke continued, eying the saggy roof. “Too small a parcel. What’s a farmer gonna do with it?”
“I’ll take it,” said David, because Burke’s words were growing decidedly clipped and he wanted to secure things before the man told him to go the hell away. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with it, either,” he added, in case Burke was curious.
Burke shrugged. “Don’t care. We’ll go back to my place, do up the paperwork.” He turned and trudged back to his waiting pickup truck, high-stepping over patches of weeds.
David took one last look at the barn before he followed him. Ghost stories were a good sign, and he had done his research. Burke was right; there were reports of ghosts going back as far as the records did. One of the most consistently haunted spots in the state, but not a tourist trap nor a popular destination for ghost hunters.
Like people instinctually knew there was something wrong about the land, something that went beyond fun ghost stories.
He hadn’t felt anything, but maybe that was just because the timing wasn’t right. The more he stood there, the more he thought he had the right place after all. Too bad Burke’s father was dead; David thought he could have asked the man if there had been any particular ghost sightings five years before. That would have convinced him absolutely.
But the land was his now, and the barn, as soon as he paid Burke for it. He would just have to come back in five years and see if anything happened then.
kay_brookeStory: The Prime
Colors: Alien Green #21 (Honest to God? A serial killer owned my car? For real?), Pineapple Yellow #20 (I don't lose things. I place things in locations which later elude me)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas, Pastels (
origfic_bingo prompt "a favorite place") Word Count: 822
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: David buys the barn.
Note: Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
“They say it’s haunted.”
“Do they?” David tossed off his disinterested reply and approached the barn. He barely noticed when a thorny bush snagged the leg of his jeans. He paid no attention to how the barn’s roof sagged dangerously, or to the smell coming from inside that probably meant something had crawled in there and died. He even, for a moment, forgot that he wasn’t alone in the overgrown clearing. All he saw was the warped, weathered wood in front of him, close enough that he could see the grain and the knots. Gray from time and neglect, and David reached out one hand until his fingertips rested on the wood.
He didn’t know what he expected to happen. Maybe he thought he would feel something, anything to tell him that he had found the right spot after all.
It was so hard to remember, those first few confusing days. Everything had been a blur. He still wasn’t quite sure how he had gotten away from this place, out of the country and back to civilization, back to the people who were his family but whom he had never seen before in his life. And still, after five years, people he continued not to recognize.
He still had a tie to his past. He thought he might feel something.
He didn’t.
“Yup,” said the man with him. Chris Burke was his name, and he was the current owner of the barn and the little parcel of land it sat on. And despite the way he stood at ease, his thumbs hooked through the belt loops of his own jeans and his baseball cap pulled low against the overhead sun, David knew he was eager to get rid of it. He could see it in the man’s colors, the way they spike orange and yellow with impatience. If he was a city man, he would have been tapping his foot. But Chris Burke had the air of a man who knew things would happen when they happened.
But even that kind of patience was limited, and David could tell Burke was running out of it.
“Tell me about these ghosts,” said David, stepping back from the barn. Entirely clear-headed, which was disappointing. Maybe this wasn’t the right spot. Maybe it was just a run-down barn. It was so hard to remember.
“They say there’s voices coming from it sometimes,” Burke supplied. “Lights, at other times. And there’s stories going back a hundred years or more, before this barn was even here.”
“So it’s not really the barn that’s haunted,” said David. Lights, voices--that was promising.
“S’pose not,” said Burke. He shrugged. “I ain’t never heard or seen anything out here, anyways. Not that I come out here often.”
“How long have you owned it?”
“Technically, two years. Part of dad’s ‘estate’.” Burke unhooked his thumbs to supply the finger quotes. “Didn’t even know it was out here ‘til he passed. And what am I gonna do with it?”
“Farm it?” A bad attempt at a joke, and not even at appreciated one, judging by the way Burke twisted his lips.
“Son, I work at the car dealership. I don’t know what you think, but we’ve got more than farmers up here.”
“Sorry,” David muttered.
“Couldn’t even sell it to a farmer, anyway,” Burke continued, eying the saggy roof. “Too small a parcel. What’s a farmer gonna do with it?”
“I’ll take it,” said David, because Burke’s words were growing decidedly clipped and he wanted to secure things before the man told him to go the hell away. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with it, either,” he added, in case Burke was curious.
Burke shrugged. “Don’t care. We’ll go back to my place, do up the paperwork.” He turned and trudged back to his waiting pickup truck, high-stepping over patches of weeds.
David took one last look at the barn before he followed him. Ghost stories were a good sign, and he had done his research. Burke was right; there were reports of ghosts going back as far as the records did. One of the most consistently haunted spots in the state, but not a tourist trap nor a popular destination for ghost hunters.
Like people instinctually knew there was something wrong about the land, something that went beyond fun ghost stories.
He hadn’t felt anything, but maybe that was just because the timing wasn’t right. The more he stood there, the more he thought he had the right place after all. Too bad Burke’s father was dead; David thought he could have asked the man if there had been any particular ghost sightings five years before. That would have convinced him absolutely.
But the land was his now, and the barn, as soon as he paid Burke for it. He would just have to come back in five years and see if anything happened then.
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The larger story is...someday.