Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Neurotic Skies
28th July 2018
It had been a week on from the icy moment when I told Sophie the events that had unfolded on the eve of the 21st. With all the talk of packing up and shipping out to Nevada in the hope…the mad hope of finding some release and some sanctuary from the immanent Hell that was fast approaching. It had recently dawned on us that BL/ind. was already fast approaching their goals to create this… 'Happy Living For All' scheme. Whilst we had always known that BL/ind were pretty fast at plotting and executing those plans... we had no idea that they had recently drafted the support of Government officials.
Things were going to get very messy, very fast...
‘Have we got everything, Doll?’ Sophie asked from the master bedroom down the hall.
‘Yep, just a few more things we need and we’ll be ready to head off’ I yelled.
We had never lived in affluence, but neither did we live in poverty. An old 1987 Toyota Pickup truck was waiting out back. We always knew that, once Faye had left for Trillium College in Ontario, Canada, we’d be living together. We were just two girls with their hopes and dreams. So
everything we owned was built for two.
The practically dead pickup was already half full of old cardboard boxes that seemed to date from the 1400’s. Full of supplies we’d need for moving to Carson City, Nevada. Things like blankets, tinned food that would go foul any time soon, Crates of clothes – Because we girls LOVE our clothes, Sophie
especially – and some electrical goods to help us start up our Apartment pretty soon.
I heard the loud bang of the front door closing and a girly voice came from the porch.
‘Just me, Hun!’ Sophie called.
She had never been like this. I remember a time when she had problems with facial hair; her hair wouldn't grow long enough... parents restricting her wardrobe. It even came down to her whispering daily because she hated the sound of her masculine voice. Don’t even get me started on her parents. Heck, I don’t even think they accept her to this day.
‘A chick with a dick’ She would jokingly call herself despite having had the surgery that gave her the womanhood she desperately wanted.
I had finished packing the last of the tins of soup and fruit and yanked the heavy crate up into my arms. As I strolled through the house, savouring this last moment of the Apartment we had shared of just close to a year. The fragrant smell of roses in the air – Sophie always made sure it smelt lovely – The bright, Californian sun blazing through the slatted kitchen windows. It was lovely, it was as close to heaven as we’d ever got. But then the harsh reality smacked me in the face like a tonne of bricks. We were leaving; we’d leave this all behind and start afresh and for reasons that we only partially knew.
I closed the door with a thud and peered around the driveway over my Ray-Bans. And there stood Sophie. Though liking the same music as I did, both being Motorbabies and fangirling over everything Pete Wentz, She never wore any band merch. Never conformed to any rules. She’d grown up conforming to Gender stereotypes for 18 years so she decided to change that. Whilst I, with my ‘Long Live the Black Parade’ shirt and some jeans with my favourite boots, she stood there, next to the truck dressed in a crisp white, tiered blouse and a red, satin skirt. She wore
a Baroque collar-necklace underneath her Blouse Collar that was not eye-catching but completed her outfit. Finally, she wore some plain red, strappy Bordello heels. Her thick, dark brown hair swayed lovingly in the gentle semi-arid breeze. I guess if you wanted a facial image, think of Ariel with dark brown hair. Its safe to say that the Cosmetic Surgeons had played their part well in feminizing her face.
I handed the crate over to her and she placed it in the back with ease. Securing the pickup cover and locking the back. Although she now had Oestrogen flowing through her veins, she still kept most of her boyish strength…
I was the only one in our... 'Family' that could drive. Soph never went for lessons. She never wanted to. With the truck prepped, we started up the ignition and drove off. The truck rattled and squeaked for the best part of 4 minutes. Possibly with the knowledge that it would never park in that beautiful driveway again... perhaps... not in our lifetime. And the fact that my babies engine was just about to conk out. I'd be surprised if we even got to where we were going without breaking down. We pulled onto the Interstate 80, bound for US Route 50.
About halfway up the Interstate, I could see black tears flowing from Sophie’s eyes. Her mascara was running again…
‘What’s wrong, bunny?’ I asked her, gently.
‘Its just…so many memories…so many good times that we’ve left behind…’ She cried, evidently unaware of the black streaks flowing from her eyes.
I quickly handed her a tissue from the car side door and she slowly wiped away the tears. Taking extra care not to let the mascara-infused tears leak onto her pristine blouse.
She was confused, despite acing many of her school Exams and being given a job at the big Sephora store in town with no apprehension, there was not a lot she knew about our current state of affairs. I did my best to console her, to tell her about the situation we were in and what Better Living Ind. were planning to do with our lives…with EVERYONE’S lives.
After all, it would make this 3-Hour journey pass all the quicker. I pulled out my box of tissues and rested them on her lap. It looks like she’s gonna need them. I took a sheet for myself and I began to tell her the facts…
29th July 2018
The trail was hard and dry. You’d expect, with all roads that lead to a capital city, that the road would be well maintained with newish asphalt? No. This was practically a dust trail. No more than a path. Dry rocks and desert rubble, coupled with no suspension made the journey excruciatingly painful. All the tears of the journey’s beginning had been wiped away and any qualms that Sophie had were gone. She was now... up to speed, you could say, but that made our predicament slightly worse. Despite being confused, when she knows something, she KNOWS it. She’ll think about it for days on end and toil over it until whatever problem it is, it’s solved.
It was swiftly approaching midnight and yet the heat was barely getting any cooler. I had the driver’s side window open and that served to cool me very little. I guess if there was any time to get used to this climate, it was now. We had stopped many times on the way. Soph, the little bugger could just not stay still. We’d gone through countless cans of Red Bull and packets of Cool Ranch Doritos lined the footbeds. Soph, who was now sleeping, made no sound – thank the heavens – and all I could think of was joining her in rest. Thankfully, we’d just passed a signpost for Carson City. Only 10 minutes to go.
‘Sophie, Darlin’ I said, loudly but softly, as to not scare her.
‘Wuh, what?’ She cried. Evidently wide-awake now.
‘Only 10 more minutes to Carson, darl’ I told her.
‘Urrhhhh…’ She groaned. Stretching her body almost identically as she did back on the 21st, when I told her of Tommy’s untimely death.
She was now fully awake; there was no getting her to sleep now. We had the keys to our apartment and we were going to flop down on the floor and sleep.
We pulled up to our new apartment. It didn’t seem so bad. In the darkness, it resembled our old house in Sacramento but sadly... it wasn’t...
Falling half asleep, Sophie caught me at the drivers seat before I could Comatose.
‘Lottie, hunny, go get some sleep. Grab a few blankets from the back and set up a bed in the Living Room or something, okay?’ she told me, gently.
‘Su…Sure thing Soph…’ I stuttered, struggling to maintain consciousness.
We both got out of the Pickup and Soph darted round to the rear. She flipped the hatch and the steel flap fell down, followed by the dust cover being thrown back, revealing multiple crates and cardboard boxes, each marked with precision of what the box contains and where the box should go.
‘Oh Sophie…you…’ I was gone. Passed out. Too much driving and sweltering heat can do that to you…
Everything was black, at least, until we got inside. The fresh breeze of the AC welcomed me with both arms, squeezing me tight. However, in contrast, the stench of must and cigarettes filled the air…I could make out the bare walls and the bare rooms. The place was stripped of any character…I felt myself being laid down on a mattress. I embraced bed, burying my face in the sheets. I was gone.
30th July 2018
The clattering of cans and the shuffling of boxes awaked me. Struggling to regain consciousness from my deep sleep, I saw Sophie, stumbling through the hallway, carrying pots of paint. The smell of cigarettes and must was gone now. Replaced with the gloriously sweet scent of roses and tulips…identical to the Apartment back home…a welcoming smell. I looked around, expecting to see the same bare walls I had left them as, but now. It was almost alien. Picture frames were up on the walls; cabinets were dotted intermittently around the room. There was even a Television!
‘Mornin’ Sleepyhead’ I heard someone call to me from the doorway.
‘Urhh, what time is it…’ I moaned.
‘10am hun! Rise and shine!’ She ordered.
‘But…but…’ I pleaded…
‘No hun. You’re getting up and helping me paint this house! But first, I think someone needs breakfast?’ she asked, query in her voice.
‘Bleahhh…’ I flopped back onto the mattress.
In no time at all, the scent of bacon filled the air, calling me to the kitchen. Stuttering through our new abode, I found Sophie. Poised at the gas cooker, wielding a Spatula as if it were a knife, cooking the sausages and bacon to perfection. We ate. And boy did we eat. Often we’d skip meals to keep us sharp and we blessed every meal we ate.
Soph, as usual, showing me up in the fashion department with a pair of torn deep blue jeans and a red, studded flannel shirt with some red bowed flats. I decided to get washed up in the newly furnished bathroom and threw on some black skinny jeans and a 'NYPD LeATHERMOUTH' t-shirt with my ol' Batman print converse.
Life was still average in America. Surviving most of the famine that had struck Asia and Eastern Europe, not directly affecting Britain but still having some after-effects. Life was peaceful.
At least we're happy, for now...
It had been a week on from the icy moment when I told Sophie the events that had unfolded on the eve of the 21st. With all the talk of packing up and shipping out to Nevada in the hope…the mad hope of finding some release and some sanctuary from the immanent Hell that was fast approaching. It had recently dawned on us that BL/ind. was already fast approaching their goals to create this… 'Happy Living For All' scheme. Whilst we had always known that BL/ind were pretty fast at plotting and executing those plans... we had no idea that they had recently drafted the support of Government officials.
Things were going to get very messy, very fast...
‘Have we got everything, Doll?’ Sophie asked from the master bedroom down the hall.
‘Yep, just a few more things we need and we’ll be ready to head off’ I yelled.
We had never lived in affluence, but neither did we live in poverty. An old 1987 Toyota Pickup truck was waiting out back. We always knew that, once Faye had left for Trillium College in Ontario, Canada, we’d be living together. We were just two girls with their hopes and dreams. So
everything we owned was built for two.
The practically dead pickup was already half full of old cardboard boxes that seemed to date from the 1400’s. Full of supplies we’d need for moving to Carson City, Nevada. Things like blankets, tinned food that would go foul any time soon, Crates of clothes – Because we girls LOVE our clothes, Sophie
especially – and some electrical goods to help us start up our Apartment pretty soon.
I heard the loud bang of the front door closing and a girly voice came from the porch.
‘Just me, Hun!’ Sophie called.
She had never been like this. I remember a time when she had problems with facial hair; her hair wouldn't grow long enough... parents restricting her wardrobe. It even came down to her whispering daily because she hated the sound of her masculine voice. Don’t even get me started on her parents. Heck, I don’t even think they accept her to this day.
‘A chick with a dick’ She would jokingly call herself despite having had the surgery that gave her the womanhood she desperately wanted.
I had finished packing the last of the tins of soup and fruit and yanked the heavy crate up into my arms. As I strolled through the house, savouring this last moment of the Apartment we had shared of just close to a year. The fragrant smell of roses in the air – Sophie always made sure it smelt lovely – The bright, Californian sun blazing through the slatted kitchen windows. It was lovely, it was as close to heaven as we’d ever got. But then the harsh reality smacked me in the face like a tonne of bricks. We were leaving; we’d leave this all behind and start afresh and for reasons that we only partially knew.
I closed the door with a thud and peered around the driveway over my Ray-Bans. And there stood Sophie. Though liking the same music as I did, both being Motorbabies and fangirling over everything Pete Wentz, She never wore any band merch. Never conformed to any rules. She’d grown up conforming to Gender stereotypes for 18 years so she decided to change that. Whilst I, with my ‘Long Live the Black Parade’ shirt and some jeans with my favourite boots, she stood there, next to the truck dressed in a crisp white, tiered blouse and a red, satin skirt. She wore
a Baroque collar-necklace underneath her Blouse Collar that was not eye-catching but completed her outfit. Finally, she wore some plain red, strappy Bordello heels. Her thick, dark brown hair swayed lovingly in the gentle semi-arid breeze. I guess if you wanted a facial image, think of Ariel with dark brown hair. Its safe to say that the Cosmetic Surgeons had played their part well in feminizing her face.
I handed the crate over to her and she placed it in the back with ease. Securing the pickup cover and locking the back. Although she now had Oestrogen flowing through her veins, she still kept most of her boyish strength…
I was the only one in our... 'Family' that could drive. Soph never went for lessons. She never wanted to. With the truck prepped, we started up the ignition and drove off. The truck rattled and squeaked for the best part of 4 minutes. Possibly with the knowledge that it would never park in that beautiful driveway again... perhaps... not in our lifetime. And the fact that my babies engine was just about to conk out. I'd be surprised if we even got to where we were going without breaking down. We pulled onto the Interstate 80, bound for US Route 50.
About halfway up the Interstate, I could see black tears flowing from Sophie’s eyes. Her mascara was running again…
‘What’s wrong, bunny?’ I asked her, gently.
‘Its just…so many memories…so many good times that we’ve left behind…’ She cried, evidently unaware of the black streaks flowing from her eyes.
I quickly handed her a tissue from the car side door and she slowly wiped away the tears. Taking extra care not to let the mascara-infused tears leak onto her pristine blouse.
She was confused, despite acing many of her school Exams and being given a job at the big Sephora store in town with no apprehension, there was not a lot she knew about our current state of affairs. I did my best to console her, to tell her about the situation we were in and what Better Living Ind. were planning to do with our lives…with EVERYONE’S lives.
After all, it would make this 3-Hour journey pass all the quicker. I pulled out my box of tissues and rested them on her lap. It looks like she’s gonna need them. I took a sheet for myself and I began to tell her the facts…
29th July 2018
The trail was hard and dry. You’d expect, with all roads that lead to a capital city, that the road would be well maintained with newish asphalt? No. This was practically a dust trail. No more than a path. Dry rocks and desert rubble, coupled with no suspension made the journey excruciatingly painful. All the tears of the journey’s beginning had been wiped away and any qualms that Sophie had were gone. She was now... up to speed, you could say, but that made our predicament slightly worse. Despite being confused, when she knows something, she KNOWS it. She’ll think about it for days on end and toil over it until whatever problem it is, it’s solved.
It was swiftly approaching midnight and yet the heat was barely getting any cooler. I had the driver’s side window open and that served to cool me very little. I guess if there was any time to get used to this climate, it was now. We had stopped many times on the way. Soph, the little bugger could just not stay still. We’d gone through countless cans of Red Bull and packets of Cool Ranch Doritos lined the footbeds. Soph, who was now sleeping, made no sound – thank the heavens – and all I could think of was joining her in rest. Thankfully, we’d just passed a signpost for Carson City. Only 10 minutes to go.
‘Sophie, Darlin’ I said, loudly but softly, as to not scare her.
‘Wuh, what?’ She cried. Evidently wide-awake now.
‘Only 10 more minutes to Carson, darl’ I told her.
‘Urrhhhh…’ She groaned. Stretching her body almost identically as she did back on the 21st, when I told her of Tommy’s untimely death.
She was now fully awake; there was no getting her to sleep now. We had the keys to our apartment and we were going to flop down on the floor and sleep.
We pulled up to our new apartment. It didn’t seem so bad. In the darkness, it resembled our old house in Sacramento but sadly... it wasn’t...
Falling half asleep, Sophie caught me at the drivers seat before I could Comatose.
‘Lottie, hunny, go get some sleep. Grab a few blankets from the back and set up a bed in the Living Room or something, okay?’ she told me, gently.
‘Su…Sure thing Soph…’ I stuttered, struggling to maintain consciousness.
We both got out of the Pickup and Soph darted round to the rear. She flipped the hatch and the steel flap fell down, followed by the dust cover being thrown back, revealing multiple crates and cardboard boxes, each marked with precision of what the box contains and where the box should go.
‘Oh Sophie…you…’ I was gone. Passed out. Too much driving and sweltering heat can do that to you…
Everything was black, at least, until we got inside. The fresh breeze of the AC welcomed me with both arms, squeezing me tight. However, in contrast, the stench of must and cigarettes filled the air…I could make out the bare walls and the bare rooms. The place was stripped of any character…I felt myself being laid down on a mattress. I embraced bed, burying my face in the sheets. I was gone.
30th July 2018
The clattering of cans and the shuffling of boxes awaked me. Struggling to regain consciousness from my deep sleep, I saw Sophie, stumbling through the hallway, carrying pots of paint. The smell of cigarettes and must was gone now. Replaced with the gloriously sweet scent of roses and tulips…identical to the Apartment back home…a welcoming smell. I looked around, expecting to see the same bare walls I had left them as, but now. It was almost alien. Picture frames were up on the walls; cabinets were dotted intermittently around the room. There was even a Television!
‘Mornin’ Sleepyhead’ I heard someone call to me from the doorway.
‘Urhh, what time is it…’ I moaned.
‘10am hun! Rise and shine!’ She ordered.
‘But…but…’ I pleaded…
‘No hun. You’re getting up and helping me paint this house! But first, I think someone needs breakfast?’ she asked, query in her voice.
‘Bleahhh…’ I flopped back onto the mattress.
In no time at all, the scent of bacon filled the air, calling me to the kitchen. Stuttering through our new abode, I found Sophie. Poised at the gas cooker, wielding a Spatula as if it were a knife, cooking the sausages and bacon to perfection. We ate. And boy did we eat. Often we’d skip meals to keep us sharp and we blessed every meal we ate.
Soph, as usual, showing me up in the fashion department with a pair of torn deep blue jeans and a red, studded flannel shirt with some red bowed flats. I decided to get washed up in the newly furnished bathroom and threw on some black skinny jeans and a 'NYPD LeATHERMOUTH' t-shirt with my ol' Batman print converse.
Life was still average in America. Surviving most of the famine that had struck Asia and Eastern Europe, not directly affecting Britain but still having some after-effects. Life was peaceful.
At least we're happy, for now...
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