FicWad

hey guys,
here's the second part of Tarantula. There's still one more part to go after that, all I'm gonna say is that it's gonna be called 'heart shaped box' (thank Nirvana and Joe Hill)! enjoy :)

TARANTULA prt 2: tarantula

“…Tell her it’s me, Frankie” I choked out nervously, trying my best to smile convincingly. Her silvery eyes were clouded with what I recognized as sorrow and , and I immediately dropped my worried gaze to the ground. The dirtied tips of my converse, under which hid my now freezing toes, had found their way into a small, alabaster mount of shimmering snow. The sun’s delicate morning rays sprinkling the sheer ice chips with small specks of gold and a very moon-like grey, glinting in the soft paths of light, which seemed to zigzag up and down across every snow speckled surface, as a few dove colored clouds floated across in the powder blue chilly morning air. She smiled sweetly, the tips of her bare, baby pink thin lips twitching upwards slightly, as a thin, sage green curler tumbled out of her milk white fluffy hair, dangling off the end of a chin-length cream shining strand. She sighed, tugged it out violently and rolled her eyes, burying the small pinky size curler in the small pocket of her fuzzy tangerine colored bathrobe, under which white cotton pants covered her legs, disappearing into big, seemingly comfortable beige and maroon plaid slippers. She shivered slightly in the cold before returning to look at me, her light, grey eyes studying me.
“Oh, dear boy” she began, barely above a whisper, her face filling with sorrow, as her eyes narrowed a little, accentuating the soft wrinkles around them. I stared at her blankly. “She…died…two nights ago” she stated. She looked away uncomfortably, obviously trying (and failing) to smile reassuringly. I gulped once, twice, and a third time, hoping that swallowing my warm saliva would help me digest, and before that, process what I’d just been announced. The cold air stung a little as I opened my mouth again, and searched desperately the welcoming stranger’s eyes, for any sign that this was some sick joke. I fount none. Only genuine sorrow, hurt, compassion, and sympathy seemed to hide beneath those watery moon colored irises. I blinked, turning my head to the side as salty tears began to pour gently down my cheeks, sliding into my dry mouth. Cold air and death don’t mix well, let me be the one to tell you that, at least.
“She…wait--but…how? She…” I stammered out eyes darting around everywhere, as if hoping to see my Grams’ kind, loving face which bared a surprising resemblance to my own.
“…Old age, I guess. She really tried to hold out, if that’s any comfort” The old woman smiled faintly again, and pushed the screen door open a little wider.
“…hold out?” I repeated, trying to figure out what that was supposed to mean.
“Why don’t you come in dear, I have something for you” she opened the aluminum screen door completely as I eyed her suspiciously. “Go on” she encouraged sweetly, making gestures with her small, pink, powdery hand, on which rested a gold wedding ring. I argued in my head for a couple seconds before shrugging, and following her in. She closed both doors behind me as I ducked under her bathrobe-covered arm, and waited sheepishly by the stairs. “Would you like something to drink? I heard you like coffee…there’s bound to be some chocolate milk otherwise someplace. Or would you prefer some tea? There’s some earl grey…” I couldn’t help but chuckle
“Tea? There’s tea in this house?” I asked, amused, as memories came flooding back. My grandmother hated tea with a passion, she couldn’t even bear to hear the word. Apparently she’d once, when suggested to drink tea by a salesman, had stomped over to the tea isle and stubbornly knocked over an entire shelf’s full of raspberry infusions, before holding her cane up to the poor man’s face, and warning him never to tell her what to drink again. She had made the local town paper.
“No” giggled the elderly woman “I bought that myself. Got a good lecture from her afterwards” she chuckled, shaking her head, and disappeared into the small kitchen. “Please, make yourself comfortable” she called out in her worn, sweet and caring voice. Her voice was a lot softer than my grandma’s had been, but I could tell it was filled with just as much good will (not involving salesman or tea, of course), and an extraordinary sense of hospitality and welcoming…. the same… zest for life. I sunk into the worn leather couch, pushing a flimsy teal blue pillow aside, as I looked around the peach colored walls. There was a picture of grams, and there one of both her and grandpa. And over there, in a smaller wooden frame seemed to be a picture of grams with the lady who was now in the kitchen. She reappeared a few minutes later, a larger plastic tray trembling in her wrinkled hands, crumpling a napkin as she clung firmly onto the quavering translucent plastic tray, stopping mid way.
“Here let me help you” I offered, hurrying towards her and delicately seizing the tray out of her trembling hands and setting it down on the small cherry wood coffee table, pushing some household appliance magazine aside. She smiled her thank you, and waved her hand to indicate me to sit down on the coffee colored couch. She joined me, keeping a welcome distanced between us, and leaned over, handing me a mug and pointing to two kettles; one what looked like stainless steel (although I doubt it) and the other one the shape of a cow. A held in a chuckle making her eye me curiously. “Right then dear, here, is coffee” she said, indicating the cow printed one, “and there, is peach tea. It’s quite good with a bit of honey” she smiled again, as I reached for the cow friendly kettle, pouring generous amount from it’s nostrils (apparently having it decorated like a cow wasn’t enough, now the coffee had to come out of said cow’s nostrils…but it was cute, really). I added a bit of milk and stirred it quietly, wondering what this woman was doing here, in a deceased’s home. As if reading my thoughts, she set down the ceramic flower printed mug, and rose slowly. “Right…I have something--rather, she left something- for you” she corrected herself, and disappeared behind a birch dresser door. When she closed it, a large, mustard yellow padded postage envelope trembled slightly in her hand. She pressed her thin lips together, and wobbled back over, handing it to me, an empathetic smile on her delicately wrinkled yet sympathetic face. I clasped it in my hand, watching her squint as she tried to read something. I looked at her awkwardly.
“H-a-ll-o-” she spelled out, muttering under her breath and I noticed she was trying to read my tattoos.
“Halloween” I giggled, clapping my two fists together. She nodded, confused. “My birthday” I added, grinning.
“Ah” she smiled again, wider this time, and disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving me alone with the envelope. Scribbled on it, in cursive was my name, a small, inky Frank, and, as I pressed my nose to it I recognized what had been my grandmother’s perfume. A floral, light, summery feminine hint of suck a familiar scent. A small tear trickled down my cheek, and I cut through the yellow padding, my hands coming across a sheet of paper. Much to my surprise, it was longer than one paragraph, and scribbled in thin blue ink. I cautiously glanced around, as if I was holding in my hands a secret, and no one was to see it. My hazel eyes settled back on the slightly shriveled piece of notepaper, and began reading.
Dear Frank;
I always knew the day would come, when you’d appear on my doorstep, bag in hand. I’ve known since you were about seven. Everyday I prepared myself to welcome you, advise you, and hug you with open arms, shelter you and help you…I’ve held on so long for that purpose. That, and Edna. She’s the one writing this, as my hands quiver to much for me to hold anything smaller than a hairbrush now. But maybe it’s for the best. I’ve held on very long, but it’s now my time to let go, to embrace a long, peaceful sleep, one that I very much need. . Don’t be too sad Frankie, always remember: I’ve had a good life. Besides, I’m sure you’ll get along great with Edna. Enclosed you’ll find the number to a bank account in your name, in which I saved up every year. I believe in it there is currently 17000$. Use it to help pay for college, or to follow another one of your wonderful dreams.

Edna will be keeping the house, as she’s been living here for four months now. Enclosed you’ll also find 200$ for you two use now. Consider it the present for all the birthday’s and Christmases I’ll miss. You’ll also find some new guitar strings, and something very dear to me, very dear to you: your grandfather’s favorite necklace. I’ve held onto it as long as I could, but it’s yours now. Take very good care of it.

Promise me one last thing Frankie: always follow your heart, no matter where it takes you or the road to get there. Always do what your heart wants, live in passion. Never mind what people will say. Follow that heart of yours.
Love, Grams
I looked down as I pressed the tear-stained letter to my chest, trying my best to control myself, my shaky sobs hitching mid way as I held my breath, until finally they faded, leaving only a few glinting streaks down my face. I grabbed the envelope, dumping it out and watching, as promised a few packs of strings, two hundred dollar bills, and something shining in the sunlight, which dropped quickly, emitting a soft metallic tingly sound. I leaned over, only to face a small silver guitar pick on a chain. I picked it up delicately and pressed it into my palm, as it glimmered in the sun that was seeping through the discolored lace type thingy curtains. It seemed to reflect even more when I realized a tear drop fell onto it with a plunk. I shoved it into my pocket, and right then the lady reappeared, a box of tissues in hand. She placed them next to me, and looked down. I felt the couch dip slightly as she let herself down into it and brought my knees up to my quavering chest, wrapping my arms around them, and resting my head on them.
“Would you like a minute alone dear?” she asked in a whisper, and, right when I was about to agree I decided against it, as I noticed her eyes begin to tear up a bit.
“No...it’s okay…you’re Edna, right?” I asked, my voice still shaky. She nodded.
“I met your grams at the park. It was my husband’s favorite park…after he…passed away last year, I didn’t go anymore. I was in too much pain. But one fine sunny afternoon, I decided too. I returned everyday then, and sat on the same bench as her. She was always there. One day, we got to talking. Eventually, we became…best friends you’d call it. When I lost my home to foreclosure, she offered me to move in with her. Her last night…she…” she wiped a tear away form her watery reddened eyes with a handkerchief “…she made me promise I’d be here for when you came. To help you ’find your heart’…” she smiled slightly, drying away a tear, and suddenly started to laugh a little. I looked at her, alarmed, but she just began laughing even more, and…all of a sudden we were both laughing through tears. Drying them away…as they dried away…

---

I trailed slowly behind Edna’s slow, cautious footsteps, as mine dragged behind in the shimmering, now dirtied snow, as we strolled through the local park…the one where she’d met my grams. The one where I’d learned to ride my bike, the on where I’d…well, lots of things. The evening five o clock sun shown through the crisp, dormant branches of the trees, illuminating the occasional pine tree or other evergreen, the tips of its needles coated in a fine, pure, and fresh icing: snow. The sun was slowly seeping behind the horizon, setting close to a day that I’d spent sitting in a familiar living room, hearing stories about someone who was very dear to me, and the best friend I’d never known they had. Edna withered a little back and forth, before announcing she thought it best we head ‘back home’ now, and I nodded enthusiastically, my drenched converse swooshing along the shoveled sidewalk. We climbed the icy, wooden steps as Edna wrapped up yet another story of their great friendship, leaving me lost in my thoughts. Thoughts of a grey cloud, of which I searched desperately for the silver lining…a best friend. I’d always wanted one, and here I was, running away from my only chance of having one…Gerard…okay so maybe I liked him a little more than that…and maybe I barely knew him time wise, but we’d opened up to each other…we had hope in each other. And here I was, in a different state, letting my dad win? The bastard was winning. Had won. He’d gotten me out, wiped me off. And I’d hurt my mother, the one who brought me to life. Another thought wondered into my head “She wanted me to help you find your heart” …my heart…in Connecticut? I could of sworn if I was a cartoon character, a little light bulb would of just flashed above my head. Fuck pride. Fuck defeat. What the hell was I gonna do here anyways? I had to go back. Go back to my life. Hell, go back to John Mitch if I had too. But go back. I wasn’t born a pushover. I’d fight. I’d fight for some sort of peace…win.


---

I lay in the darkness of the living room, a small, sweater like blanket over me as I shivered in my hoodie, and finally decided to open my eyes, which first fell on the distant stove clock which indicated 12:01 am. The faint glow of a street lamp wandered in, accompanied by the headlights of a passing light, sweeping the room in a fairy like glow, only to disappear around the corner. A small smile crept onto my face as I remembered the dream I’d just awakened from. But not just any smile. A fuck you smile…I brought a hand up to my hair, fluffing my floppy bangs a bit, before turning over and staring at the blue-glowing ceiling.

My unsure footsteps followed Edna down an empty street, a freezing, garbage filled alleyway, streetlights reflecting off her bright yellow plastic raincoat, as she awkwardly stumbled along the cobblestone way.
“there. Wait there.” I glanced at her unsure, but did as she asked. She smiled sweetly, and began unscrewing hinges around her nose, mouth, and ears. A slight, hollow like popping sound followed, and a plastic mask fell to the floor, burning up instantly as if dissolved by acid. I stared back at her in shock, only to be met by Grams’ caring face, her eyes glinting in the moonlight.
“Grams…” I whispered. She silenced me with a slender, wrinkled finger and handed me a small, silver guitar pick on a chain, and pointed to a banner that read “Fight for what’s right!”. Pressing the silver pick into me open palm. My father’s face appeared on the pick, an angry expression at first.
“Defeat” she stated. She then pressed it in deeper, and his face melted away, and he opened her mouth again. “Never think of hurting. Think of proving. It’s your home too. Your home…friendship…” I wanted to ask her more, but she faded away too, just like her mask had. I looked around, alarmed, only to see a pale, angelic face looking at me. Raven black hair was gently sweeping over the sides of the smooth, alabaster skinned face, and the kid smiled up at me. “Give a chance” he whispered, before leaning in a slowly pecking my cheek, only to disappear right after.
I slowly crawled off the couch, determined as to what I’d do. Something in me, a warm, sure feeling was now forming in my chest, and it was urging me out…to go back. Now. Simply because
I don’t wanna fight
every single night
Everything I want is in your eyes…
You and me go back
To places I don’t know to care
The spoils of all I’ve got were left for

Don't let me say this
But you're no worse than me
It's crazy

We are the real
If real ever was
And just because
We are the real
They feel we have enough
We are the real
'Cause someone gave us up

I want to be there when you're happy
I want to love you when you're sad
Can't stand the morning rain?
Get out I'll take your place then
Can't stand the blazing sun?
Then close your eyes you'll see
The angel dust

I don't want to be
Anything believed
A million watts of sound can't compare
Come along you'll see the world
The pulse ripples, the crowd unfurls
The current starts to flow and then you're on
Oh it's white hot soul they want
To sing for

We are the real
If real ever was
And just because
We are the ruin
Of every living soul
We are surreal
Cause someone gave us up

Don't break the oath
I want to love you when you're happy
Don't break this oath
I want to be there when you're sad
Freeze-frame the pouring rain

We are the real
As real as any ghost
So easy now
We are the real
In ever living soul
Oh don't they know?

Can't stand the blazing sun?
Can't stand the morning rain?
Oh get out I'll take your place again

I don't want to be alone
I don't want to be alone
I don't want to be alone at all
If it's a white hot soul they want
Then a black heart they’ll get…Take my place again…the place of a fighter, but fighting for peace. What was I gonna do if I stayed up here? Fucking Nothing. But what could I do if I went back? Fucking live. I quietly crept up the lavender blue carpet stairs, falling face to face with an open door, a glowing, amber yellow rectangle in the night light hallway. I quietly knocked as I poked my face around the door, seeing Edna, curlers back in her milky white hair, sitting up in bed, reading glasses on her small nose. She looked up and smiled warmly.
“Edna?” I whispered quietly, I honestly hadn’t expected to find her up, sitting, almost as if she’d been expecting me, in the floral wall papered room.
“Mmm?” She lifted her head up a little, re-adjusting the ivory pillow behind her back.
“I’m…going to go back to Jersey…” I began, fiddling with the sleeves of my hoodie.
“right now?”
“It just…feels right…I’m sorry I-”
“You’re going to give a chance, then?” She cut me off. I’d only began to process what she said that I froze in place, staring at her in shock.
“wh-what?” I stuttered out
“give a chance” she repeated. She smiled warmly again, and pointed to a yellow plastic raincoat on the back of a padded rocking chair, and chuckled. “Your train ticket’s on the kitchen counter”
“…how did you?”
“She warned me you’d find your heart quick. And don’t forget, nobody want to fight every single night.”


Well, again, I'll try and get part 3 up quickly. PLease let me know what you think about this chapter, It's a bit different form the way I usually write, so It's really mean alot to me to know what you guys think!
xx,a.
(and again: any other suggestions, comments, remarks, etc are always welcome!)