Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Is There Anybody Out There?
The First Fingers Of Apprehension Creep Up Your Spine
3 reviewsAuthorities say the situation is contained, but wait, what exactly IS the situation?
0Unrated
a.n- I forgot a disclaimer: I don't own any of the songs/bands I've written about here, and I especially have no ownership/rights etc over My Chemical Romance. Pure Fiction. :)
Oh, and I just remembered, to clarify, this is set in an alternate world. MCR doesn't exist, the boys are all still young and pursuing various careers. The technology is of the 21st Century, so there ARE mobile phones and internet etc. However, the music they listen to will be pure old school :) cos, well, I like that shit better. Enjoy!
Stazzi.
Setting: England and New Jersey
“NATASIA SUTHERLAND!”
The young girl rolled her dark brown eyes and swung her blue leopard printed legs (courtesy of her favourite tights) off her bed, landing on her clothing-strewn floor with a thump.
“Wonder what mum wants this time” she muttered, disentangling her headphones from their death grip round her neck and turning off The Smashing Pumpkins that had been blaring in her ears for hours. Apparently, not loud enough to drown out her mother’s demands.
“STAZZ….” A gurgling sound cut off the shrill call. Feeling the first fingers of apprehension on her spine, Stazzi clattered down her stairs and peered cautiously round the kitchen door, half expecting an axe murderer to be leering over her mother’s body.
Instead, a horrific sight met her eyes; her mother, voiding last night’s casserole into the sud-filled sink.
Disgusted, but somewhat amused, Stazzi wordlessly handed her mother a paper towel and a glass of water. She supposed she should inquire as to her parent’s health, but, let’s face it, that would insinuate that she cared, and she really didn’t.
Instead, she figured she was off the hook for whatever chore her mum had in mind, so ran out the front door and off to the park out the back of her house.
Hey Jamie, Guess what I caught mum doing?
Hey Stazzi :) What?
Vomming in2 th dishes!
LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLLOLLOLOL!
As she received the text from her best friend, Jamie, a slight electric shock from her cell made Stazzi drop her phone onto the sparse grass that was braving the harsh English frost.
A frown puckered her brow as she picked it up examined it for any loose wires, to no avail. She let out a small huff of consternation, before dismissing it as static and making her way to her favourite oak. She pulled her pencils from behind her ear, and flipped her sketchbook to a new page before lying against the tree; thin legs crossed lightly at the ankles and black cardy pushed up to her elbows.
The sixteen-year old stayed like that for a couple of hours, peacefully drawing whatever floated through her mind. She disregarded blue stains on her fingers as ink splodges, and failed to notice the spidery mottling that spread down her legs as the day lengthened.
“STAZZI” the oh-so-frequent summons from her mother rang out over the dusk tinged park. Stazzi rose with a sigh, brushing leaves from the back of her blue skirt and tucking her pencils behind her ear again. The sudden change in orientation had her reeling for a moment; she leant against the solid trunk of the tree to steady herself. Breathing the crisp air to clear her head, she set off towards her home, unaware that she wouldn’t be returning to her oak tomorrow.
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“Now, behave yourself at your cousins, alright?” Ray’s mother was tearful as she braved the young man’s hair to place a kiss on the top of his head. Ray smiled ruefully, knowing his mother was completely overreacting to a simple 2 week holiday in England with his cousins. Not to mention, completely humiliating him by kissing a 22 year old man.
Ray was extremely pleased his cousins weren’t there to see that, he had great respect for them, and he hoped they reciprocated. They enjoyed his kind of music and they had promised to show him the underground punk rock scene in London. He hoped he could learn some new tricks on his faithful guitar; his cousin James was one of the best guitarists he had ever heard and Ray had practiced obsessively over the past month to hold his own against James.
A final goodbye, seasoned with tears, and Ray was on the plane, ready for the painfully long journey to Heathrow.
Ten hours, 20 minutes of sleep, two truly disgusting meals, one awkward conversation with a man suspiciously similar to Tyler Durden, and Ray was in London.
As he grabbed his black duffel and guitar case, he noticed the increased security from when he was last in England. Initially he attributed it to the recent spate of terrorist attacks, but, as he looked closer, he realized many of the security were wearing hospital masks and carrying heat sensors to gauge temperatures.
As he made his way through customs, Ray asked the surly officer what was up with the new checks.
“What new Security measures? NEXT PASSENGER” Helpful thought Ray as he shouldered his bag and avoided the suspicious glances at his afro.
Waiting for his cousins to pick him up, Ray lamented the loss of his cellphone. He had left it at home, seeing no point in racking up a huge bill due to the cost of international calls. However, he realized now how much he relied on it to fill in the insignificant moments of tedium in life; waiting for the bus, standing in line, even at the traffic lights. Now, he felt curiously at a loss.
Without his mobile to occupy his time, Ray instead focused on his environment. There was no place on earth quite like an Airport; people coming and going, saying goodbye or joyously greeting, everyone had a purpose and an agenda, everyone was going somewhere. Time seemed to be different from the outside world, as though, just inside the automatic doors of Heathrow, was a suspended world that obeyed Murphey’s law; if you were running late for your flight, the check-in counter would be packed. Conversely, if you had arrived in plenty of time and were all ready, the flight would inevitably be delayed.
Ray witnessed many situations echoing this conundrum; a man sprinting the length of Heathrow, suitcase in tow as he jumped over strewn bags like hurdles. A family of twelve was sleeping on the hard, uncomfortable chairs of the flight lounge, surrounded by their bags, delayed on their journey to Australia. In fact, a lot of flights out of London were being delayed, particularly those to Australia and New Zealand. And, eavesdropping on passengers irately berating the complaints desk worker, the delayed travelers weren’t getting any explanation.
All of Heathrow seemed charged with a tense, expectant atmosphere, laced with impeding terror. Ray could almost taste it, and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Years of listening to his afro told Ray to be wary, his hair had never let him down yet, and he fervently hoped that there was a first time for everything.
His unease was dispelled somewhat with the arrival of James and his brother Miles, who burst into the Airport with an astonishing vitality. James was all limbs and smiles, standing at 6ft 4, with freakishly pale skin that seemed to echo the colour of his toothy grin. In contrast, Miles was a stocky, dark 17 year old, with a mane of long brown hair that could rival Ray’s. The only thing that connected the two boys as brothers was their taste in clothing; both wore Black Sabbath shirts and grey jeans with heavy combat boots. Ray smiled as he looked down at his own Iron Maiden tee and black, faded jeans with converse. They were going to get along famously. Two weeks of immersing himself in music and pop culture was starting now.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“And in other news, a family of four in London, England has been quarantined after all contracting a mysterious illness. The symptoms include vomiting, fever, and a dark blue, bruise-like rash that spreads quickly.
Authorities are at a loss as to how this happened, but claim the situation is contained. The best friend of one of the quarantined, Jamie Taylor, died suddenly last week, but authorities have refused to speculate whether the two incidents are related. Back to you, John.”
a.n. sorry, I'm not that happy with this chapter, it's not very well written....but I felt like I owed you guys an update! So yeah, sorry for the disjointed style and tone, but I'll get better, I promise!!!! Rate and Review :)
Oh, and I just remembered, to clarify, this is set in an alternate world. MCR doesn't exist, the boys are all still young and pursuing various careers. The technology is of the 21st Century, so there ARE mobile phones and internet etc. However, the music they listen to will be pure old school :) cos, well, I like that shit better. Enjoy!
Stazzi.
Setting: England and New Jersey
“NATASIA SUTHERLAND!”
The young girl rolled her dark brown eyes and swung her blue leopard printed legs (courtesy of her favourite tights) off her bed, landing on her clothing-strewn floor with a thump.
“Wonder what mum wants this time” she muttered, disentangling her headphones from their death grip round her neck and turning off The Smashing Pumpkins that had been blaring in her ears for hours. Apparently, not loud enough to drown out her mother’s demands.
“STAZZ….” A gurgling sound cut off the shrill call. Feeling the first fingers of apprehension on her spine, Stazzi clattered down her stairs and peered cautiously round the kitchen door, half expecting an axe murderer to be leering over her mother’s body.
Instead, a horrific sight met her eyes; her mother, voiding last night’s casserole into the sud-filled sink.
Disgusted, but somewhat amused, Stazzi wordlessly handed her mother a paper towel and a glass of water. She supposed she should inquire as to her parent’s health, but, let’s face it, that would insinuate that she cared, and she really didn’t.
Instead, she figured she was off the hook for whatever chore her mum had in mind, so ran out the front door and off to the park out the back of her house.
Hey Jamie, Guess what I caught mum doing?
Hey Stazzi :) What?
Vomming in2 th dishes!
LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLLOLLOLOL!
As she received the text from her best friend, Jamie, a slight electric shock from her cell made Stazzi drop her phone onto the sparse grass that was braving the harsh English frost.
A frown puckered her brow as she picked it up examined it for any loose wires, to no avail. She let out a small huff of consternation, before dismissing it as static and making her way to her favourite oak. She pulled her pencils from behind her ear, and flipped her sketchbook to a new page before lying against the tree; thin legs crossed lightly at the ankles and black cardy pushed up to her elbows.
The sixteen-year old stayed like that for a couple of hours, peacefully drawing whatever floated through her mind. She disregarded blue stains on her fingers as ink splodges, and failed to notice the spidery mottling that spread down her legs as the day lengthened.
“STAZZI” the oh-so-frequent summons from her mother rang out over the dusk tinged park. Stazzi rose with a sigh, brushing leaves from the back of her blue skirt and tucking her pencils behind her ear again. The sudden change in orientation had her reeling for a moment; she leant against the solid trunk of the tree to steady herself. Breathing the crisp air to clear her head, she set off towards her home, unaware that she wouldn’t be returning to her oak tomorrow.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Now, behave yourself at your cousins, alright?” Ray’s mother was tearful as she braved the young man’s hair to place a kiss on the top of his head. Ray smiled ruefully, knowing his mother was completely overreacting to a simple 2 week holiday in England with his cousins. Not to mention, completely humiliating him by kissing a 22 year old man.
Ray was extremely pleased his cousins weren’t there to see that, he had great respect for them, and he hoped they reciprocated. They enjoyed his kind of music and they had promised to show him the underground punk rock scene in London. He hoped he could learn some new tricks on his faithful guitar; his cousin James was one of the best guitarists he had ever heard and Ray had practiced obsessively over the past month to hold his own against James.
A final goodbye, seasoned with tears, and Ray was on the plane, ready for the painfully long journey to Heathrow.
Ten hours, 20 minutes of sleep, two truly disgusting meals, one awkward conversation with a man suspiciously similar to Tyler Durden, and Ray was in London.
As he grabbed his black duffel and guitar case, he noticed the increased security from when he was last in England. Initially he attributed it to the recent spate of terrorist attacks, but, as he looked closer, he realized many of the security were wearing hospital masks and carrying heat sensors to gauge temperatures.
As he made his way through customs, Ray asked the surly officer what was up with the new checks.
“What new Security measures? NEXT PASSENGER” Helpful thought Ray as he shouldered his bag and avoided the suspicious glances at his afro.
Waiting for his cousins to pick him up, Ray lamented the loss of his cellphone. He had left it at home, seeing no point in racking up a huge bill due to the cost of international calls. However, he realized now how much he relied on it to fill in the insignificant moments of tedium in life; waiting for the bus, standing in line, even at the traffic lights. Now, he felt curiously at a loss.
Without his mobile to occupy his time, Ray instead focused on his environment. There was no place on earth quite like an Airport; people coming and going, saying goodbye or joyously greeting, everyone had a purpose and an agenda, everyone was going somewhere. Time seemed to be different from the outside world, as though, just inside the automatic doors of Heathrow, was a suspended world that obeyed Murphey’s law; if you were running late for your flight, the check-in counter would be packed. Conversely, if you had arrived in plenty of time and were all ready, the flight would inevitably be delayed.
Ray witnessed many situations echoing this conundrum; a man sprinting the length of Heathrow, suitcase in tow as he jumped over strewn bags like hurdles. A family of twelve was sleeping on the hard, uncomfortable chairs of the flight lounge, surrounded by their bags, delayed on their journey to Australia. In fact, a lot of flights out of London were being delayed, particularly those to Australia and New Zealand. And, eavesdropping on passengers irately berating the complaints desk worker, the delayed travelers weren’t getting any explanation.
All of Heathrow seemed charged with a tense, expectant atmosphere, laced with impeding terror. Ray could almost taste it, and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Years of listening to his afro told Ray to be wary, his hair had never let him down yet, and he fervently hoped that there was a first time for everything.
His unease was dispelled somewhat with the arrival of James and his brother Miles, who burst into the Airport with an astonishing vitality. James was all limbs and smiles, standing at 6ft 4, with freakishly pale skin that seemed to echo the colour of his toothy grin. In contrast, Miles was a stocky, dark 17 year old, with a mane of long brown hair that could rival Ray’s. The only thing that connected the two boys as brothers was their taste in clothing; both wore Black Sabbath shirts and grey jeans with heavy combat boots. Ray smiled as he looked down at his own Iron Maiden tee and black, faded jeans with converse. They were going to get along famously. Two weeks of immersing himself in music and pop culture was starting now.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“And in other news, a family of four in London, England has been quarantined after all contracting a mysterious illness. The symptoms include vomiting, fever, and a dark blue, bruise-like rash that spreads quickly.
Authorities are at a loss as to how this happened, but claim the situation is contained. The best friend of one of the quarantined, Jamie Taylor, died suddenly last week, but authorities have refused to speculate whether the two incidents are related. Back to you, John.”
a.n. sorry, I'm not that happy with this chapter, it's not very well written....but I felt like I owed you guys an update! So yeah, sorry for the disjointed style and tone, but I'll get better, I promise!!!! Rate and Review :)
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