Post by HappyTuesday on Jan 30, 2004 15:19:50 GMT -5
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Crimson Tears Chapter 2
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Anthony awoke the next morning to the abrasive, yet some how refreshing rays of celestial light ravishing upon him as if to signify that another day of isolation, despondency and of course loneliness had just begun, yet another ascendancy of relinquish, but in away this also symbolized new inductions. How every day he craved more and more that by some stroke of fate everything would be ok again, though in his mind he knew, that abolishment would never come. Alas the dreary anguish of the day had begun to sink in Anthony’s mind once more as he exited the only safeguard he had left, in order to face the day.
It wasn’t till late afternoon, that Anthony had begun to here the first actual signs of vivacity stirring within Rex’s bed room, with a plaintive sigh; he filled a glass half full with water and grabbed two tablets of aspirin, before heading upstairs. Just the site of the door made Anthony cringe, “What the hell do you want boy? Ever hear of knocking?”
Rex barked in a now familiar monotone.
“Just take these” Anthony muttered flatly, while trying to avoid any sort of quarrel, if possible, He could tell by the tone of Rex’s voice that he was still heavily under the influence of the alcohol and also a major headache was about to set in. Sensing this, he deposited the glass on a bed side table and handed the tablets to Rex, before turning around and exiting the room, noticing a small framed photograph resting possessively in his father’s arms. Three figures sat diligently on a couch in what looked to be an upper class type room, a tapestry of fancy paintings seemed to decorate the wall behind them; an older picture that he could be sure, with the first figure he recognized to be his dad, only looking in his early 20s at the time, his mother sat next to him same distinguishable smile on her face, and the last was his aunt…Cassie, he hadn’t known her, she had been murdered before he was even born, his dad was devastated. But what could Anthony do, he can’t change the past…or could he.
Anthony now found himself in what use to be his father’s work room, at one time the majority of Rex’s day was spent down here just working on what would be some of the most ingenious creations this world, or any other had ever seen, though Mimi would constantly be on his case, saying he spent way to much time on his inventions and not enough with his family. What she didn’t know was that Rex would be constantly teaching Anthony the ‘tricks of the trade’ so to speak; even at the age of 10 the kid was amazingly agile picking up on everything that was taught. That’s when he found it, the last project they had ever accomplished, buried at the back of a concealed door in his fathers desk. In appearance it looked like a watch that always seemed to keep time in a peculiar manner, displaying not only the time but the day, week and year as well. Anthony constrained the small object in his hands, staring at it intently. This could be it, the solution to everything with a few little clicks of a button he could change it all; the suffering the pain, could be erased from history, from his father’s mind but the question is; did he dear.
Crimson Tears Chapter 2
-------------------------------------
Anthony awoke the next morning to the abrasive, yet some how refreshing rays of celestial light ravishing upon him as if to signify that another day of isolation, despondency and of course loneliness had just begun, yet another ascendancy of relinquish, but in away this also symbolized new inductions. How every day he craved more and more that by some stroke of fate everything would be ok again, though in his mind he knew, that abolishment would never come. Alas the dreary anguish of the day had begun to sink in Anthony’s mind once more as he exited the only safeguard he had left, in order to face the day.
It wasn’t till late afternoon, that Anthony had begun to here the first actual signs of vivacity stirring within Rex’s bed room, with a plaintive sigh; he filled a glass half full with water and grabbed two tablets of aspirin, before heading upstairs. Just the site of the door made Anthony cringe, “What the hell do you want boy? Ever hear of knocking?”
Rex barked in a now familiar monotone.
“Just take these” Anthony muttered flatly, while trying to avoid any sort of quarrel, if possible, He could tell by the tone of Rex’s voice that he was still heavily under the influence of the alcohol and also a major headache was about to set in. Sensing this, he deposited the glass on a bed side table and handed the tablets to Rex, before turning around and exiting the room, noticing a small framed photograph resting possessively in his father’s arms. Three figures sat diligently on a couch in what looked to be an upper class type room, a tapestry of fancy paintings seemed to decorate the wall behind them; an older picture that he could be sure, with the first figure he recognized to be his dad, only looking in his early 20s at the time, his mother sat next to him same distinguishable smile on her face, and the last was his aunt…Cassie, he hadn’t known her, she had been murdered before he was even born, his dad was devastated. But what could Anthony do, he can’t change the past…or could he.
Anthony now found himself in what use to be his father’s work room, at one time the majority of Rex’s day was spent down here just working on what would be some of the most ingenious creations this world, or any other had ever seen, though Mimi would constantly be on his case, saying he spent way to much time on his inventions and not enough with his family. What she didn’t know was that Rex would be constantly teaching Anthony the ‘tricks of the trade’ so to speak; even at the age of 10 the kid was amazingly agile picking up on everything that was taught. That’s when he found it, the last project they had ever accomplished, buried at the back of a concealed door in his fathers desk. In appearance it looked like a watch that always seemed to keep time in a peculiar manner, displaying not only the time but the day, week and year as well. Anthony constrained the small object in his hands, staring at it intently. This could be it, the solution to everything with a few little clicks of a button he could change it all; the suffering the pain, could be erased from history, from his father’s mind but the question is; did he dear.
