Entries tagged with written for: livejournal

Entry tags:

The Faculty - written for Livejournal

Title: Stop being a coward
Characters: Casey Connor, Zeke Tyler
Words: 342
Finished: 15.03.2015

:::

For almost two hours Zeke had braved the storm, fought against the teeth of the wind, the heavy rain. And he felt great. All just because of Casey. Together with his best friend he always felt good. All the loneliness and emptiness in his life seemed to vanish into thin air. He still couldn't get it how it had happened that the school's geek had been able to sneak into his life.

"Zeke?"

He looked up, torn out of his thoughts. There he was, tousled hair, the face reddened from the cold. Casey carefully put his camera bag on the chair beside him, then he took off the rain-drenched jacket. Even his shirt was wet and seemed to glue at his skin. He rubbed his arms to warm them up.

"Shower! A hot shower. It's cold!"

Cold, oh yes. Zeke himself was chilled to the bones too. And who was to blame for that? But he felt much too happy to be annoyed. He shrugged. “Go ahead. Upstairs, first door on the right side."

"Thanks." Casey turned to the stairs, but stopped there, looking back at Zeke. His eyes were sparkling hilariously. "What's with you?"

Wait! What? Suddenly Zeke felt great heat rushing through his body, his mouth felt dry. "You first,” he said and his voice sounded rough.

“But you are shaking like a leave. You will catch a cold.”

Stubborn little shit. Why couldn't he just let it rest? "I will have a coffee to warm up.” While Zeke turned to the kitchen-counter, Casey followed him. Was suddenly standing behind him much too close, smiling wide. "Zeke, you are such a coward,” he whispered.

Warm breath hit his neck. Zeke turned around in the try to escape. All too close. Just eyes and lips. Wonderful lips. Touching his. Warm. Soft. Hot. Casey Connor was kissing him. Only for a split of a second.

Then it was over. Like through a haze, Zeke could hear steps on the stairs. Stopping again. Whispered words. "You coming? I'm gonna wait for you!"

Entry tags:

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Title: 24 hours
Characters: OCs
Words: 348
finished: 02.10.2017

:::

Twenty-four hours can change a life.

He had never thought this possible; but what had he actually known back then? He had still been a child, only thirteen years old, a good student, he loved chess and baseball. The best times of his life he had spent in the baseball stadium together with his dad. But this happened only rarely. His dad was working at a big laboratory, an important job which offered only rare free time.

So, most of the time he was living alone in the lovely, small house on the military base, together with his mother and his little brother. He had two close friends he usually spent a lot of his time with, but at the moment all he could think about was Anna Marie, a girl with long, blonde hair and glasses. In the morning, at school, she had smiled at him, and his heart had been up in his mouth.

Then it happened, and within minutes his world was broken down.

A phone call from his father. „Leave the town,“ he told his mother. „Leave everything behind. Just grab the children and leave the town. Go to the little summerhouse of your parents in the woods. Don't come back, until you hear from me.“

His mother obeyed. He could see her hands trembling and tears in her eyes when she asked him to put some food and water together, while she went to wake up Jamie from his afternoon nap. His brother cried a little, and this time his mother didn't pull him into her arm to calm him down. Obviously there was no time to waste.

:::

She drove without any pause, for hours and hours, until sunset. Then she stopped the car in front of the old, lonely house in the middle of nowhere. Jamie looked up, giggling slightly. „We are visiting grandpa,“ the little boy told his teddy.

But he knew better. He could hear the silent, suppressed sobbing of his mother. And when he got out of the car, he felt that something horrible was going on. The world had changed and he would never see his dad again.

Entry tags:

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Title: Birthday (Smith's POV)
Characters: Kurdy Malloy, Mr. Smith,
Words: 401
finished: 04.02.2017

:::

Today we did celebrate Kurdy's birthday. Usually I try to avoid crowded places like the cafeteria. And I try to avoid to think about my past. Because I don't have one. Days like these remind me of this fact all too clearly.

I'm the outsider, the guy no one wants to hang around with. Because I'm God's messenger. Sometimes I wish I could just lay down and die, this would be so much easier. But he is not willing to let me go. He has told me that the future of the world is lying in my hands. What kind of future can this be?

At this moment Kurdy tore me out of my thoughts. He dropped down onto the chair beside me, a forced smile on his face. Kurdy is a nice guy, I know, he doesn't want to hang around with me, but he feels pity.

"Do you have fun," he did ask me.

Fun? I don't know the meaning of this word, I can't remember if I ever had fun in my life. "Gid told me to come here," I said.

"Maybe he wants you to relax for a while. Birthday parties are supposed to be fun."

Are they? Well, I guess, Kurdy is right. Before the Big Death people did enjoy birthdays and parties and fun. Michelle told me once that it is important to keep the old ceremonies alive. But Michelle can remember, like everyone else. Memories can hurt, but they also keep you alive.

"Did you never celebrate your birthday?"

"I can't remember, maybe, when I was a child," I told Kurdy.
"I don't have a history. Everything is wiped out, everything that happened before the I died."

He stared at me, I could read the shock in his eyes. "You ... what?" His voice was slightly shaking. He wasn't ready to hear the truth. It would have been so more human to lie, but I couldn't. Because God has told me that it is about time to tell him about it.

"I died. But God wasn't willing to let me go. He brought me back to life." It was hard to smile but I did it anyway. "I'm glad that you still can enjoy your birthday. But for me, the day of the anniversary of my death is the only birthday I can remember. And, believe me, there is no reason to celebrate that."

:::

(Note: This story is also written from Kurdy's POV)

Entry tags:

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Title: Birthday (Kurdy's POV)
Characters: Kurdy Malloy, Mr. Smith,
Words: 624
finished: 04.02.2017

:::

Satisfied Kurdy leaned back, smacking his lips. He actually didn't mind to be on the roads, alone, or together with Jeremiah. But every time he did come back to the Mountain after a more extended tour, he was eager to visit the cafeteria. Today a surprise had awaited him.

He hadn't expected that someone would remember his birthday. Though he should have known better. Erin knew all that was going on in the Mountain and she had decided to organize a party for him. Everyone was invited to come into the cafeteria for cake and coffee, real coffee. Kurdy couldn't remember the last time he had had some. There had been some small presents, too, candles, and a 'Happy-Birthday-Song.' Even if Kurdy had acted slightly grumpy at first because of the fuss Erin had made, deep inside, he had enjoyed it.

Until his eyes fall onto this small guy who was sitting alone at a table in the corner, obviously not very happy to be here. Smith was his name, Mister Smith. No first name. And as strange as his name was his behavior. People usually tried to stay out of his way.

And he couldn't blame them. No, he was not a danger; otherwise, Markus would have never allowed him to stay here, in the Mountain. But he could give everyone the creeps with the bullshit he talked about. Insisted, that God spoke to him, that he was his messenger. The mysterious prophecies he shared with everyone were hard to believe. In the best case, people laughed about him; in the worst he got beaten up.

Kurdy cursed inwardly, wished to be able to simply ignore him. It was his birthday party, and Smith could only ruin it. But it was not so easy. Because he owed him his life. Sighing, he gave in, stood up, and walked over to Smith's table.

"Hey, do you have fun," he asked, dropping down on the chair beside him.

Smith frowned as if he needed to think about these words.
"Fun? God told me to come here."

Goddamned shit, Kurdy cursed inwardly. "Maybe he wants you to relax a bit. This is a birthday party, you know, and it's supposed to be fun."

"Okay.If you say so. I don't know."

"What? You never celebrated your birthday?"

Smith shrugged. "I did, I guess. When I was a child. But I can't remember."

"That you were a child once? Or that you ever had a party?"

"Both. I don't have a history. Well, of course, I know, I have had parents, a home. Probably I went to school, played baseball with my friends. I guess, I also had birthday parties. But all this is wiped out. Everything that happened before the day I died."

"You ... what?" There it was again. Kurdy felt cold shivers running down his spine. Why the heck did he actually care? Smith had obviously lost his mind, and he was not the one who could help him. He had enough own problems to deal with. But not today. It was his birthday, and he wanted to enjoy it together with his friends, Jeremiah, Benny and Gina, he wanted cake and even more coffee, he wanted to laugh about stupid jokes. At least for some hours he didn't want to think about tomorrow and where the future would take him.

"I died," Smith repeated, forcing him back into reality. "But God wasn't willing to let me go. He brought me back to life." A sad smile sneaked over his lips. "It's good that you still can enjoy your birthday. But for me, the anniversary of my death is the only birthday I can remember. And, believe me, there is no reason to celebrate that."

Entry tags:

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Title: The voice
Characters: Mr. Smith, Rose Smith, Kurdy Malloy
Words: 1107
finished: 17.11.2016

:::

Smith watched his little daughter thoughtfully; for the whole day, she had been unusually quiet as if she could sense the tension in the air. Since this incident in St. Louis and the loss of some very close confidants, it seemed as if the life in the Mountain almost had stopped.

Smith had tried to play down his sorrows; the time he could spend with Rose was rare and valuable, but the little girl was much too sensitive.

"Where is Mr. Kurdy," she suddenly asked.

Smith kept silent, thinking about his friend and Elizabeth. Kurdy was not a guy who talked much about his feelings, but Smith had known, who much the young woman had meant for him. A wonderful woman, caring, gentle, but determined when it was necessary. Despite all she had to go through, she had never given up hope that one day the world would be a better one again. This hope finally had been her death.

And Kurdy had changed; he had buried her all alone and then locked up himself in his quarter, refusing to talk to anyone. He had even yelled at Markus, and Smith was for sure the last one he wanted to see.

"Why didn't you warn her," he had asked him, his eyes dark with anger. "You are the prophet who knows what will happen. Why couldn't you save her?"

A question Smith couldn't answer; he wasn't God's messenger by choice. The pieces of information he got were mostly cryptic and hard to understand, and sometimes God decided to keep quiet and just to let it happen. And there was nothing he could do against it.

„Daddy?“

He tried to shook his thoughts off; this was Rose's time, and he didn't want to ruin it for her. „Mr. Kurdy can't play with you this weekend,“ he answered. „He needs some time for himself. But we could go, visit Michelle, would you like that?“

…

Rose loved Michelle; the young woman always told her stories from the old world and taught her long-forgotten children's games. But today it was just half the fun. Rose couldn't get rid of the words in her head.

„Go and find him,“ the voice had told her. „He might need your help.“

Though she actually wasn't living in the Mountain, she knew the ways around there. It wasn't difficult to find the quarters, the door with two names on it: Kurdy Malloy. Jeremiah Johnson. She hesitated a moment before she knocked and finally pulled it open.

The room was only small; a bunk bed, a chair, a table, and two old chests. The light was dim because the neon lamp on the ceiling was turned off. It smelled of sweat and booze; the air was sticky. Kurdy was lying on his bed, panting hard, a half-filled bottle in his hands.

Rose bit her upper lip; she knew Kurdy for some months now; he was a nice guy, always laughing, playing with her, and often he had some candies in his pockets. This guy on the bed was like a stranger, and he scared her. For a moment, she thought about it to turn around and run away. But then the voice was back again.

„Don't go! He needs you, Rose!“

And she knew what she had to do. „Mr. Kurdy,“ she whispered.

He virtually jumped up, stared at her with wide-open, deep-red eyes. Rose winced slightly when she noticed a big knife in his hand.

„What the hell,“ he yelled. „Leave me the fuck alone.“ Only then he seemed to recognize her. His hand started to tremble, and the knife dropped down onto the floor with a loud bump.

„Rose,“ he whispered. „What are you doing here?“

She breathed in deeply before answering. „He's told me to come.“

Kurdy narrowed his eyes. „Your Dad?“

She shook her head. „No. A voice, in my head. Sometimes he talks with me. But don't tell my Dad, he always looks so sad when this happens.“

For a while Kurdy kept silent. „Get it,“ he finally answered in a tired voice. He dropped back onto his bed, closed his eyes again, hoping that she would realize that all he wanted was to be left alone.

But she stepped closer, put her small hand onto his big one.
„He says it is necessary to make sacrifices because we are not ready for the new world yet.“

Kurdy felt rage seething up; he clenched his fists; the urge to kill was almost overwhelming. Kill … kill … kill. Destroy the world because a world without Elizabeth had lost every significance. It was only a split of the second; then he did remember: Rose! She did nothing wrong. She and all the other children in the world deserved a chance to live. This was why Elizabeth had never stopped fighting.

When he started to tremble, he felt her fingers touching his sweaty forehead. „It's okay,“ she whispered. „Maybe you can tell me about her.“

„About her,“ Kurdy repeated, feeling numb.

„Elizabeth,“ Rose answered, "That was her name, wasn't it? I know she is dead, but that's not a reason to be desperate. My mom died, too, when I was a baby. But Sister Hannah says she's still here, watching over me. As long as I remember her, she will be a part of my life.“

It was so easy, Kurdy thought when you still were a child. So innocent, always full of hope. But he knew better, he had seen too much, had done too much since the Big Death had turned his life around. Everyone's life.

He couldn't forget that Elizabeth was buried deep in the dark earth, and nothing would bring her back. Never again, he would touch her hair, wild brown curls, falling on her shoulders. He would never hear her soft voice singing again, or her laughter. She was gone forever, and she had taken every hope, every light with her.

Tears were running over his face. Rose gently wiped them away, put her arms around his neck. For whatever reason, it felt comforting. And his thoughts started to drift off.

„She loved these little glass figurines, had a whole collection of them in her room. I remember the day I gave her the first one. It was a little dog, with a much too big bow. Not very pretty.“ He chuckled slightly. „But when she unwrapped the small box, her eyes were outsparkling the sun falling onto the dog. And I thought that she was the most beautiful woman I've ever met..."

Entry tags:

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Title: Nightmares
Characters: Kurdy Malloy, Mr. Smith
Words: 334
finished: 12.05.2015

:::

"Smith! Smith, are you okay?!"

He woke up in terror. Everything around him was dark. He was all alone in the world. Panic filled him but he set up, forced himself to breathe. Slowly and deep, and again, and again, while he tried to calm down.

There was the small clearing where they had decided to spend the night. The sky above him was pitch black, no stars, just a faint moonlight that turned the world into a foreign place. The campfire was almost burnt down. And the black shade beside the fire… no danger was radiating from it. Slowly Smith recognized Kurdy, his partner, his friend, who was watching him worried.

"Smith? What's wrong? You were screaming as if you are in pain.”

He squeezed his eyes shut again, pulling the thin blanket closer around his body. "It's nothing, don't worry." But the pictures were still in his mind, tormenting him.

A young woman was lying on a bed, the eyes wide open in pain. A boy who bent over her. Shaking her, crying. "Please, don't go! Don't leave me alone!" But the darkness caught up with him, all that was left behind was emptiness, coldness, desperation, fear.

It had been just a nightmare. A reminiscence of the past. A past so awful that he'd cleared out his mind, erased all memories. But in his dreams, the pictures came back to him, only fragments. He couldn't even say if it was his past, he was dreaming about.

After a long while, Smith re-opened his eyes again. And the world had changed. Kurdy had put some dry branches on the glow. Now the fire flickered and radiated a comfortable warmth. The big guy was cowering beside the fire, watching him with slightly narrowed eyes.

Smith breathed in deeply one last time."You should go back to sleep," he said gently."I am okay."

And it was the truth. There was no cold any longer. There was no darkness any longer. And he was not alone tonight.

Entry tags:

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Title: Grief (Part 1)
Characters: Mr. Smith
Words: 335
finished: 01.06.2015

Lost in thoughts Smith was standing in front of Libby's grave. He often came here to remember what had happened. No, he wouldn't forget, nor would he ever forgive himself.

He had killed her!

Of course, Libby had fired first, had hurt his arm. The shock and the pain let him pull the trigger without thinking. He had seen her breaking down, and when he felt the warm blood dripping out of her body and she died in his arms, he had known this was not another nightmare which tormented him every night.

Everyone told him that there had been no other way. That he had acted in self-defense. But all he could think about was that he had failed. He should have found another way.

God had told him that she would die in this church. He hadn't told him who would be in charge of her death. Smith hated him for this, though he could understand.

God demanded a lot of him. He was his messenger, had to follow his order without putting them into question. But this time it had been different. Because Libby was his friend, he liked her; everyone liked her. Her smile, her laughter, her always gentle voice. She was like an angel in a dystopian world.

Smith knew, if God had told him the whole truth about her, he would have refused to listen. He wouldn't have gone to Innsmouth. He wouldn't have entered the church. And Libby's betrayal would never have been revealed. He wouldn't have killed her, and she would still be alive.

But the future of this world would be a different one, without any hope.

Smith threw a last glance at the grave. He had only done what needed to be done. But he would never forgive himself that he hadn't found a way to save her. Slowly he bent down to place the wild rose onto the burial mound; then he turned around to leave. There was still a lot do.

:::

Title: Grief (Part 2)
Characters: Mr. Smith, Jeremiah
Words: 361
finished: 01.06.2015

Jeremiah had already wondered about the wild roses he found on Libby‘s grave ever and ever again. He had told no one where he'd buried her, only Kurdy knew. But today, when he came here to visit her, he saw him. Smith was kneeling in front of the little mound, placing a rose on it.

Hate was rushing through his body. Of all the people: Smith! “What the hell are you doing here?” Jeremiah jumped forward, pushing the little guy aside violently. Then he bent down, reaching out for the rose and throwing it into the near undergrowth. “Stay away from her. You have no right to be here.”

"I am sorry."

"You are sorry?" Jeremiah huffed. "That you killed her? That you destroyed my life? I did love her; I would have trusted her blind. And now they say that she wanted to betray all of us. That she only was a spy of Simms." He breathed in deeply, visibly trembling. "It's all your fault."

“She only betrayed herself. Her life, her future, and her love.”

Jeremiah stared at him with narrowed eyes. "Don't talk about her like that. You did never know her as I did."

“I know that she never had a chance. She was still a little girl, scared and alone when she met him. He is strong, powerful, and many people follow him blindly. There was no chance for her to resist him.“

“I was alone too. I've lost my parents. I saw my brother dying. Do I betray my friends? Someone I love? How could she do that?"

“Libby met the devil. If you come across someone so evil, your only chance is to turn around and run. Or it will be too late. She loved you, Jeremiah, but there was no way back for her.”

He put his hand on Jeremiah's shoulder, then he turned around and left. For a long while, Jeremiah looked after him, unable to move. But finally, when Smith was out of sight, he picked up the rose and put it back onto the grave again. "I hope you will find your peace now," he murmured.

Entry tags:

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Title: Halloween
Characters: Markus, Rose Smith
Words: 678
finished: 31.10.2015

:::

Lost in thoughts Marcus hurried through the long, cold halls of the Mountain. He had just had a meeting with Lee and Jeremiah; there were problems again with some gangs who troubled the people in Brownsdale. Nothing serious so far, but he knew he should better step in before it got out of control.

Suddenly he noticed her, a little girl, cowering under one of the steel stairs, knees pulled up, her arms tightly around them. He stopped, watching her slightly uneasy about what to do. Even he could head the Mountain, he had never learned to be close to the children. He wished Erin would be here, she knew to reach out to them, and they loved her like they had respect for Marcus. Suddenly, the girl lifted her head; wide, brown-green eyes stared at him. And he recognized her.

"You are Rose," he said. The daughter of Smith. Usually, she did live at a children's home near the Mountain; only now and then she came to visit him.

"Do you know when my Dad will come back?"

Her voice was low and slightly shaking. He shook the head. If he had known that she would come here today, he would have sent someone else on this dangerous mission. "I'm sorry, no. He went to a town some miles away for some transactions." This was all he could tell her; she wouldn't be able to understand the truth anyway.

"Do you think... the ghosts will hurt him?"

Marcus frowned. "Ghosts," he repeated.

"Sister Mary says, today is the night where the ghosts come back. She wants us to stay in the house."

"Oh." Marcus needed a moment to remember what she was talking about. October 31st. Halloween. No one here had thought about this, it was just cold, rainy day like others. Not for Rose, though. The little girl looked so worried and Marcus could feel anger rising up. Why did someone scare children with horror stories when the world around them was already cruel and unpredictable enough?

He bent down and reached out to her. "I get it, you are talking about Halloween. But don't worry, this is just a fairytale from the old times. I'm sure, your dad is safe out there."

She blinked. "There are no ghosts?"

"Well." He was not sure why he was doing this, but suddenly he bent down to her, smiling. "When I was as old as you are now, oh yes, there were a lot at Halloween. Children liked to dress up, as clowns, cowboys, fairies... and ghosts. And we did trick and treating, that was always great fun."

The look in her eyes changed, still a bit mistrusting but curious too. "Trick and treating? What's that," she wanted to know.

"An old tradition. At Halloween, all the houses were decorated with lights and pumpkins, and we knocked at every door, calling: Knock, knock, trick or treat, give me something good to eat. We received many candies." Marcus chuckled at the memory. "And next day, we all had stomach pains.

Almost better than the candies were the pranks. Sometimes we did a little joke although people were giving us treats, just because it was so much fun."

He noticed the shy smile on Rose's face and suddenly thought, how sad it was that the old times and all the wonderful traditions were gone forever. Rose and all the other children would never get to know them. Suddenly an idea crossed his mind. He grabbed Rose's hand.

"Come on," he said. "Come on out there. Let's go to my room; I'm sure we will find some old bedclothes so that we can dress up as ghosts. Then we will go into the cafeteria, spooking Erin. Let's find out if she has some good treats for us. Or if we need to play her a little trick at first."

Rose's eyes widened. "But... my dad says I must not disturb you. Because you are busy with saving the world," she protested.

"Your dad is smart." Marcus smiled. "But the world can wait until tomorrow. Because today it's Halloween."

Entry tags:

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Title: Everyone's fate
Characters: Mr. Smith, a young man
Words: 737
finished: 28.08.2016

:::

He couldn't be much older than fifteen. Every day he came into the cafeteria, was sitting there for hours, always alone. He didn't talk to anyone, was only staring at the tabletop in front of him. Erin had tried to convince him to eat at least a bit, but usually his plate stayed untouched.

Smith dropped down on a chair beside him, but he didn't even lift his head. "Hello. Erin asked me to look after you.“

"Why does she care?"

„She is worried.“

He shrugged. „No need to. I'm fine.“

"Maybe. Maybe not. It was the first time, wasn't it?"

Finally the young guy lifted his head, his eyes sparkled annoyed. "It was okay what I did! I just regret it that it was so easy for him. I should have let him suffering much more for what he has done.“

His voice sounded defiant, but Smith noticed the horror about the own doing deep in his eyes. Slowly he nodded. "I know. But this didn't make it easier. You killed him; you looked into his eyes before you shot him into his chest and head four times. No matter how hard you try, you'll never get rid of this memory. The best you can do is moving on."

The young man narrowed his eyes. "Moving on," he whispered. "As if this is possible! I can't sleep anymore without nightmares. I have his dying eyes in my mind all day long. Tell me, how can I live with this?“

Smith put his hand onto the arm of the young man; he winced slightly but didn't pull away. "I know what you are talking about," Smith said in a low voice. "I guess most of us know."

+++

It was only a few weeks after the breakout of the Big Death. The world had turned into chaos. No one thought about the future; it was only of interest to surviving the next day.

He was a young boy like so many others, barely fourteen years old. Alone. His parents dead, like all the adults. His brother, he didn't know. When he had made his way home, no one had been around. Unable to stay in the silent house, he had taken refuge in his old treehouse for the first weeks, hoping for a wonder. Which never happened, of course. This was not a nightmare you could wake up from; this was reality.

Maybe he would have given up. But then, one day, this boy was standing in the garden, maybe five years old. More dead than alive. He didn't know him, but for whatever reason, there had been a bond between them. Together they were strong; together there was a little chance that they could survive all this.

The hope lasted for some weeks. Until they met the group of skinheads one day. The little boy was afraid of their loud voices, the guns they carried; started to cry silently. They laughed about him; one of them, a big guy with a lot of tattoos on his skull, pressed his gun into his much too small hand and pointed at one of the women of the gang.

„Kill her!“

She didn't even dare to protest, was just standing there with wide eyes, staring at the little boy. He was shaking with panic, not knowing what to do.

„Kill her, or you are the next,“ the skinhead told him.

At that moment, the boy knew what he had to do. Protecting his little friend, who, in the meantime, was like the brother for him he had lost. He stepped forward, tore the gun out of his small hands, aimed at the woman… and pulled the trigger. Hard to say if it was luck or calculation that he did miss her.

She looked at him, her eyes full of hate before she turned around. But the skinhead patted his shoulder, laughing aloud. „You are my guy,“ he told him and pulled him to the truck.

+++

Smith kept quiet for a long while. "A lot of people can tell a story like this," finally he murmured. "Most are fighting with memories they can't shrug off.“

The young guy eyed him sadly. "It's your story, right? What has become of him? The little boy."

"I dream about him almost every night. Sometimes there is a happy end, and someone else took care of him, offers him the chance to grow up.

Sometimes..." Smith paused and shrugged.

Entry tags:

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Title: Maria
Characters: Erin, Mr. Smith, a little girl
Words: 475
finished: 01.06.2015

:::

"What's wrong with her?" Smith looked at Erin questioningly. Some children were playing ball on the meadow behind the Mountain. They were still looking pale and weak, only sometimes there was laughter to hear. But at least they had started to play again.

The roads had been their home for far too long; they had tried to survive in the woods; alone, helpless, abused. So many children and it was impossible to save all of them. But at least some. Here, in Thunder Mountain, they could feel safe for the first time in their short life, they could learn to be children again.

But a little girl with long, black curls had caught Smith's special interest. She was cowering near the huge oak, curled up like a cat.

Erin sighed. "She came here some days ago, but she doesn't seem to be able to open up. Not even the tiniest bit. She still refuses to speak. She doesn't eat. Is barely able to find some sleep; wakes up crying several times every night. It's so hard to endure. I want to help her, but I'm at a loss what to do!"

Smith watched the little girl thoughtfully for a while. Finally he went over to the oak tree and knelt down quite a bit away from her. She looked up, her eyes full of obvious panic as if she was thinking about it to take flight every moment.

Smith smiled reassuring, cocking his head. "Como te llamas," he asked softly.

The girl blinked.

"Me llamo Smith. Y tu?"

Silence for long while. Smith didn't move, just smiling at her. Suddenly she exhaled deeply. "Maria.” Barely a whisper. “Me llamo Maria." When she burst into tears Smith caught her in his arms, holding her tight. He could say, these were not tears of panic but of relief.

Two hours later he was still cowering on the ground, the girl, Maria, in his arms. She had cried for a long time. Then she started to calm down and fall into a deep, exhausted sleep, her hand still clutching his shirt.

Smith looked up when Erin carefully approached them. “She will get better now,” he whispered.

Erin nodded, still not able to understand this little wonder, but it was such a relief. “Maybe you could try to bring her inside, to bed,” she suggested. "This looks not very comfortable."

But Smith shook his head. “No, it's okay. I will stay here, hold her until she will wake up again.”

“Might be better,” Erin agreed. “She trusts you. What luck that you know a little bit of Spanish. Where have you learned it?”

Smith kept quiet for a moment. "I don't,” he finally said."To be honest, I didn't even know that I can talk Spanish."

“What do you mean?” Erin stared at him, feeling confused. "You have talked to her all the time. How should you be able to do this without any bits of knowledge of the language?”

He shrugged. "I've just opened my mouth ... and the words did come out!"

Entry tags:

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Title: Only a fantasy?
Characters: Mr. Smith, Rose Smith
Words: 258
finished: 01.06.2015

:::

The voice in his head got even louder when Smith refused to listen. No, he couldn't move on like this; he had tried to believe in God's words, even if he mostly didn't understand the meaning of the mystery prophecies. But now it was too much. He felt tired, burned out.

Curled up like a ball he was lying on the small bed in the spare room of the Mountain. His body still hurt from the fight last night. But much worse were the memories which followed him into his dreams, painful and horribly vivid pictures.

„Daddy?“

The word tore him out of his thoughts. No, this couldn't be. Rose was at the school, where the nuns took good care of her and other children. Miles and miles away from the Mountain, from all the darkness and danger. He hadn't seen her for ages, and even if he missed her, he knew, it was good this way.

„Daddy!“

Reluctantly he opened his eyes. And there she was; a red sweater, jeans, her long hair bound together in a ponytail. Just as she had looked like when he had seen her for the last time, in summer. She smiled at him. „God has told me to come here because you need me,“ she said. And she put her arms around his neck; he could feel her warmth and her breath on his skin.

The dam broke. When he finally stopped crying, the sun was already rising. Rose was gone, but he felt ready for the new day.

Entry tags:

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Title: The rescue
Characters: Kurdy Malloy, Mr. Smith
Words: 399
finished: 20.08.2016

:::

"God damned!" Kurdy cursed loudly.

The moment he had pulled the trigger, Smith had decided to step in and save the brutal skinhead. Now the guy was lying on the ground unhurt, but there was blood seeping out of the tattered fabric of Smith's old coat. Carefully he tried to move his arm up and down, pulling the face, obviously in pain. Bugged out, Kurdy hurried over. "Let me have a look at it!"

But the little man shook his head. "I'm fine. It's only a graze shot."

"This was outright stupid, you little shit," Kurdy snapped at him. Despite his anger, he was relieved that Smith obviously wasn't seriously hurt.
"This bastard tried to kill us! And you risk your life to save this ass?"

Smith glanced at the guy who was still cowering on the ground. Yes, his eyes were still full of hate and bloodlust. Without the gun in Kurdy's hand, he would have attacked them again, without hesitation, without mercy. Finally he sighed and shaking his head he turned back to his partner.

"Trust me, Kurdy, I haven't saved him," he murmured. "Let him go!"

The voice with this strange undertone; Kurdy hated it when he talked like that. Even more, because he knew that Smith's mysterious words turned out to be the truth much too often. With narrowed eyes he turned back to the skinhead and pointed over to the wood nearby.

"Fine, back off. But better don't cross my way again; next time, we might be alone, and no one can hold me back to give you what you deserve."

With cold eyes the guy stared at him; for a moment Kurdy was sure that despite the circumstances he would try another attack. But finally he just turned around and hushed away between the big trees.

"C'mon, let's get back to the Mountain," Kurdy said. "I'm sure Markus wants to get a report about the Skinhead." He knew the young leader wouldn't be happy about this incident; he had hoped that the situation at the surrounding of the Mountain finally was under control.

"He is not a danger any longer," Smith murmured while getting into the old jeep. "Even if you didn't kill him, before the end of this day, he will wish you would have."

Kurdy shuddered and started the motor. No, he would not think about this now.

Entry tags:

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Title: Seriously ill
Characters: Erin, Mr. Smith, Rose Smith
Words: 398
finished: 01.06.2015

:::

She was lying on the big bed, looking so small, so pale. Her eyes closed. Her breath was slow and uneven. Six days since she had gotten sick. And there was nothing he could do than to sit on the edge of her bed, hold her hand and pray. "Please! Please! Tell me, what did I wrong? Please, don't take her away from me. Not Rose!"

But God kept quiet.

The door opened slowly, and Gina entered. "Smith? How is she doing?"

He looked up. His eyes were red and swollen. For days he couldn't sleep anymore, hadn't been able to eat. "The doctor says there is nothing he can do for her. She will get better soon or ..."

He paused, unable to put the horrible into words. The thought to lose her was excruciating. Gina put a hand onto his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Smith, she's such a sunshine. If there is anything I can do …"

Helplessly he just shook his head, and she left him alone again.

Erin was the next. She brought him some fruit and a plate of soup. He refused to eat; his stomach felt tied up into knots. But the young woman was not willing to give up so easily.

“You need to eat,” she said gently. “She will wake up again, and then she needs you.” And with shaking fingers, he grabbed for the spoon, cleared the plate without knowing what he was eating.

Kurdy was the last. He stopped at the doorway, only standing there without saying a word. Finally he stepped closer hesitating, passing a blanket to Smith. "You need some rest!”

"No! I can't! Maybe she will wake up ...”

“I will stay with her!” Kurdy pulled Smith to the old armchair, which was standing in the corner of the room and forced him to sit down. Put the blanket around him. Only a minute later, the little guy was fallen into a deep sleep. And Kurdy sat down at the edge of Rose's bed.

....

"Smith!"

He startled out of his sleep. His eyes fell on Kurdy, who was standing in front of the old chair. Realization hit him. Rose! Did he sleep for too long? Had he left her alone? It was then that he noticed the smile on Kurdy's lips, and he dared to relax again.

She would live. He wouldn't lose her.

Entry tags:

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Lifejournal

Title: Painful experience
Characters: Mr. Smith, Kurdy Malloy
Wordcount: 220
finished: 09.03.2015

:::

Horror and seething rage were laying in his dark eyes when he came back out of the house. Smith looked at his friend full of compassion."I've warned you! Why did you go in? I knew it would be hard to endure for you."

Kurdy was still looking for hold at the trunk of the jeep. His face was pale when he turned back to Smith. "I had to! I had to see this with my own eyes. Otherwise it would be impossible to believe. Damn, we did trust them. Markus supported them." He gasped for air. "How could it be that we were so blind? Why didn't we notice what was going on here?"

"We've only seen the good, trying to forget how often the evil hides behind it."

"How can you be calm like this?" Kurdy clenched his fist, hammered against the Jeep's door with full force. "How can you not seek bloody revenge? We should follow them and..."

"It's not up to us, to judge them." Smith shook his head. "And it wouldn't change anything. The pictures of what you have seen today would follow you anyway."

"Fuck. Tell me, how can you move on when you think like this?"

"Sometimes," Smith said gently, "sometimes you will find the good although you believe everything around you is evil."

Entry tags:

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Lifejourmal

Title: Swimming
Characters: Mr. Smith, Rose
Wordcount: 100
finished: 11.03.2015

:::

It was a hot summer day. Smith was sitting on the shore of a lake, watching Rose. His little daughter was playing in the water with some other children. He felt the urge to call her back.

The water scared him. So dark-green, so cold and deep. Just like the lake had looked when he had decided to end his life some years ago.

Rose laughed. "C'mon, Daddy! It's fun!"

He cringed. "Sorry, Honey. I can't. I cannot swim."

Rose reached for his hand."Don't worry! I'll take good care of you."

She was right, the cold water was wonderful.

Entry tags:

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Title: Alone at New Year's Eve
Characters: Mr. Smith, Kurdy Malloy, Rose
Wordcount: 1039
finished: 31.12.2015

It was New Year's Eve. Since the Big Death had changed the world about 17 years ago, most people didn't even think about it, but it was different in Thunder Mountain. Erin was not only Markus's confident; she felt responsible for giving everyone at the Mountain some comfort for the soul at least now and then, besides food, fresh water, electricity, and first of all as much safety as possible. She secretly enjoyed it to organize movie-evenings, birthdays, and parties for everyone on holidays. And Markus let get her away with wasting resources; he had long realized that most of the people in Thunder Mountain did respect him as their leader, but they loved Erin for being a caring, wonderful woman.

While everyone was preparing for the New Year's party Smith was only looking for a place to escape this madness. He wished he could go out, to the old hut in the woods nearby; to the lonely sea, the others usually tried to avoid because there were rumors that it was cursed. Or he could take one of the jeeps to go the old convent some miles away from the Mountain, where Sister Hannah had build a school for children. Rose was there too. His little daughter. It still felt like a wonder that he had a family now. Only some months ago he hadn't even known about her existence, but then God had sent him the message.

God always did things like that; he talked to him since that day, where he had decided to put an end to his life. No caring about Smith's wishes, God had told him that he needed a messenger, and even if Smith didn't understand why he had chosen him, he had learned quickly to accept his fate. From this day on for most people, he only was the weird guy with mysterious prophecies, which often enough turned out to be right. It was not going to make him very popular. He had earned the respect of Markus, Erin treated him well, but she actually was nice to everyone. Kurdy was who came closest to a friend. And finally there was Rose. She made his life bearable during the dark times, where everything seemed to be lost.

He had planned to visit her at Christmas, but obviously, God had had other plans; he had sent a massive snowstorm, ice rain, for endless days. The Mountain was isolated from the rest of the world because Markus had decided to reduce the outdoor activities to the absolute minimum, not willing to risk people's life or valuable material. No one complained; it was a welcome rest after the last weeks. Only Smith felt restless and locked-in. He tried to concentrate on his inner voice, but there was nothing but silence. God kept quiet, for some days already, if this was a good or a bad sign, Smith couldn't say.

+++

"Here you are!" Kurdy opened the door to the dark storage room where Smith finally had found a refuge. "Erin is already looking for you. It's time for the party."

"Not for me."

"Smith, come on. There is not much we can do at the moment. And Markus has added some bottles of Whiskey for the party, the good stuff from the old world."

Smith seemed to crouch even deeper into the darkness. "Thanks, but no, thanks. I'm fine. Just go and have some fun. After the last weeks, you deserve it."

Indeed, it had been a hard time for all of them, so much had happened, so many losses. It was difficult for everyone to forget at least for a while and to enjoy the moment. But only Kurdy knew what Smith had had to go through. As his partner, he did spend more time together with him than anyone else. And he knew about the nightmares, the prophecies, the desperate try to prevent the inevitable. He had already fought against all possible dangers, and he had learned not to let it get too close to him. But to see Smith in his desolate state when a mission went awry, was hard every time anew. If someone deserved some rest, for sure it was him.

"If you don't want to join the party, maybe you can do me a favor."

"Sure, why not."

"Markus asked me to get some important papers from his office he wants to talk through with Erin before joining the others in the cafeteria."

Even if he couldn't see it in the darkness, Kurdy was almost sure that Smith was smiling. Probably this sounded pretty familiar for him. Like Smith also Markus was not a guy for amusement. He preferred it to be for himself, and to bear his burden all alone, he had taken over about 16 years ago, right after the Big Death.

"I don't mind to take over this job," Smith said and finally stood up.
"You should go to the party, have some fun."

+++

The long halls of the Mountains were unusually empty when Smith walked across them to get to Markus' office. A large room with a panorama window, looking into the entrance hall of the mountain, usually well lit, the computer monitors showing different parts of the Mountain and strange diagrams.

Smith knocked at the massive door, and finally opened it a crack, when he got no answer. "Markus?" In the next moment, he stiffened. Not the young leader of Thunder Mountain was sitting behind the desk. Smith swallowed hard. It was only an illusion, a wonderful dream, but he knew it would end all too soon, and the reality would be even harder to endure.

Then two small arms fall around his neck, green-brown eyes were sparkling at him, the soft curls were tickling his cheeks. "Daddy!"

"Rose," Smith croaked.

"Daddy," she repeated, giggling slightly. "I did fly in a helicopter. It was so big. And loud. And it was shaking. I was a bit scared at first, but Mister Kurdy put his arm around me and said that everything is okay."

Finally, Smith dared to open his eyes again. She was still there; he could feel her, smell her, hear her voice. Slowly it started to sink in. Kurdy. The reason why he hadn't seen him all day long was that he hadn't been here. He had taken a helicopter...

"Daddy? Why are you crying?"

He noticed tears running down his cheeks, and it felt good. He couldn't remember when he had cried for the last time. All tears seemed to be in vain. Not this time, though. Tears of gratefulness, of love.

Like through a haze, he suddenly noticed Kurdy standing in the hall, watching them with a satisfied smile on his face. And Smith could read the words, his lips formed.

"Happy New Year, Smith!"

He bent his head as a thank you; then he pulled his daughter even closer into his arms. "Don't worry, I'm okay, honey," he whispered. "With you around, I will always be okay."

Entry tags:

Ballroom Dancing - written for Livejournal

Title: Starting a new life
Characters: Kip Kipling
Wordcount: 129
finished: 18.03.2015

:::

Kip had never liked dancing. He actually wasn't even able to dance. But during their last therapy session, he had noticed it.

Frank had changed since he went to this dancing-school. He could laugh again, live again, even love again.

For the first time since his wife's death, Kip wondered how it would be to let her go. She was always around him, in his thought, in his dreams. Although she was gone and buried a long time ago.

On Thursday he changed into his dark suit, out of fashion, so long unworn. It felt strange at first but he could feel a slight buzzing in his gut.

And when he entered the dancing-school together with the others he could feel it: this was the first step into a new life.

Entry tags:

The Faculty - written for Livejournal

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Lifejournal

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Lifejourmal

Jeremiah (TV) - written for Livejournal

Ballroom Dancing - written for Livejournal

Reboot Universe (AU / crossover Faculty/Jeremiah) - written for Livejournal - Part 5

Reboot Universe (AU / crossover Faculty/Jeremiah) - written for Livejournal - Part 4

Reboot Universe (AU / crossover Faculty/Jeremiah) - written for Livejournal