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Monday, July 23, 2012

Until The End

It's been a while but... I've finally written something again. It's a short story that nearly made me cry.

I've written a story like this before, where Mikey, my Michael Dove, dies. I've always had it set that he was going to die just days before he turns 30 and that his final words are "Zachary, you moron" as Zack holds him as he dies. Well, I've fleshed it out a bit more, since my bff, who created Zack, made Zack's best friend an FBI agent.

So, to give you a little cap, Bill's real name is Rafael and he's an FBI agent. Michael Dove, aka Mikey, is a hit man and Zack, aka Zachary, is a hit man in training being trained by Mikey. Mikey and Zack are in love, though it's kept secret. Not going to go over their whole story, too much to put down.

Any ways, here we go! My story!
"Mikey, don't make me do it!" 
"My name is Michael, Rafael. Or should I call you Bill?" 
Bill's hands shook as he held the gun up. "Mikey, just put the gun down and come with me. Please. I don't want to shoot you." 
Michael straightened up, wincing as the pain from the bullet in his side shot through his body. The gun fight with Bill’s partner had left him wounded. But if Michael looked bad, the dead partner looked worse. 
"You won't shoot me. You lack the conviction to do it," Michael said with a smirk. 
Bill wiped sweat from his brow with his free hand. "Mikey..." 
"My name is Michael!" 
Bill visibly jumped as the door slammed open. Michael barely turned his head.
"Drop it, blondie!!" Zack yelled, gun raised and aimed at the offender. 
Bill, already on edge, spun. 
Michael never moved quicker, but as the explosion of the gun filled the room, all he could think about was protecting Zachary. He gasped as the searing hot bullet hit him, a new pain slamming through his body. 
"Mikey!" Zack yelled .His gun clattered on the ground as his arms wrapped around Michael’s torso to keep the man from falling. “What did you do, Bill?!”
“Zack I… I didn’t mean to!" 
Zack could feel the sticky warmth soaking through his sleeves as he sank to the floor, Michael held against him. 
"Mikey, Mikey please..." 
Michael's breath was shaky at best and not getting any better. 
"Zachary..." he managed. 
"No, no, don't talk, Mikey. Bill, call 9-1-1, god damn it! Call for help!" 
Michael shook his head as Bill fumbled for his cell phone. 
"No, Mikey, don't go, please! God, no!" His voice cracked. Tears were spilling down his cheeks and there was nothing he could do to stop them. 
Michael's head fell back against Zack's chest. His skin was pale and his eyes were distant. 
For a moment, they focused on Zack’s face and a faint smile formed on his lips. It was quickly gone and replaced with a scowl. "Zachary... you moron..." 
His lower lip shuddered as his last breath left him. 
"Mikey!" Zack cried, burying his face in the other’s dark brown hair. “You killed him, Bill! You killed Mikey!” 
Bill slowly back up, hands raised. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to hurt him…” 
Zack glared at what he thought was his best friend. “I’m going to give you five seconds to get out of here. If you’re still here, then I can’t be held responsible for what I do.” 
Bill nodded and was gone. 
--- 
The week passed like a blur. The funeral was like a movie on mute. Zack barely registered the thirteen year old boy stand by his side, shaking slightly with tears; the older man leaning heavily on his cane, the scar over his eye looking more vicious as no emotion passed on his face. 
The black coffin hovering over the hole was a simple black casket. It suited Mikey’s tastes. Zack had seen to that much. The rest of it he left to Kostya. 
He ditched out on the wake afterwards. He wasn’t that hungry anyways. And he had other things to do.
It was a short drive to the apartment he knew well. He’d first come here years ago, back in high school when he first met Bill’s older brother, who wasn’t really his brother, just some other agent there for the case. Who then left for college or something like that. The memories were bitter sweet. 
He found the door unlocked and entered quietly. Boxes were scattered around, things half thrown in them, half spilt on the floor. Bill had been in a hurry to leave. Had he been trained by any less of a hit man, Zack would have assumed Bill had left already, but he knew better. He’d seen that blonde mop poke out behind a tree at the funeral.
He was still here. 
“I’ve been waiting for you.” The voice almost startled Zack. He turned towards it origin and saw a few blonde curls sticking up over the top of a high backed chair. 
“I can tell. You didn’t even finish backing, dude.” He was surprised by how flat his voice was. Had he really come that far? 
Bill chuckled faintly. It was a sad sound and caused Zack’s heart to ache father. 
“I didn’t see the point.” 
“Why didn’t you run?” 
The curls shook. “You’d come find me. Might as well face it head on.” 
Zack took a few steps towards the chair. 
“I’m sorry, Zack. I didn’t mean for it to happen that way.” 
He froze, fingers wrapped around the cold steel of the gun. “Don’t say that, Bill.” 
“But it’s true…” 
“I don’t want to hear it!” he barked, a new wave of tears breaking forth. “You killed the man I loved! You’re my best friend! I shouldn’t be… I shouldn’t be here doing this right now. We should be… we should be out skateboarding or something, man!” 
The room fell into silence. 
Zack shook, trying to pull himself together. He couldn’t afford to get all emotional, that was how mistakes were made. That was what Mikey always said, anyways. 
“I killed him,” Bill said in a dead pan. “I killed Michael Dove, one of the best hit men in the world.” 
Was his voice shaking? Or was that just Zack’s ear drums? 
“My name is going to be everywhere. I’m going to be a hero.” 
“Shut up!” 
“I’ll be all over the news, Zack. They’ll praise me!” 
“I said shut up!”
“I killed him, Zack!” 
There was pain in Bill’s voice. Some part of Zack’s brain picked up on it. Bill wasn’t gloating. He was trying to make it easier on him. 
“I shot Michael Dove!” 
The quiet hissing of the silencer was the last thing Bill would hear. Zack shook, the gun still aimed at where his best friend’s head had just been. He’d just killed his best friend. 
He pulled the gun back and placed it back in its holster. 
“Good bye, Bill.” He turned and left, locking the door behind him.
And... end. I like it. I didn't edit it or anything. Just went with it. *sniffles*

Let me know what you think!

Laters!

Thursday, July 12, 2012

I Can't

Weight loss is hard. Writing is hard. As I'm prone to seeing, "if it were easy, everyone would do it." And it's true.

But I've learned some things, sitting here, staring at the blinking black line of the page, examining my life as I wait for something to strike me.

I've learned that I can't do either of these things for someone else. I have to do them for me.

In the past, I've tried writing for other people. And I've done good with it. Writing for pay (Gaia gold, to be specific) worked nicely for me. I improved my writing. I became better at my craft while writing for others. Being pressed into writing because people think you can't stick to it, well, that's just a stupid thing to write for. I have to write for me.

Just like with weight loss. I can't do it for a future lover (because if they love me, they'll love me for everything I am, plus size or not). I can't do it for a friend. I can't do it for my mom. I have to do it for me. I have to want it for me and me alone.

I've always heard that "I can't" is a phrase you should never use. But sometimes, you have to. Because sometimes you can't. There is no changing it to "I can write for other people and not for myself." Writing doesn't work that way.

What are some other things you can't do? (keep it a positive can't. Or even a 'I can't whistle' works, lol)


Laters!


PS, if you're interested, I have a second blog about costuming and cosplay. Check it out! Costume Me
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