Post by angeleyes on Feb 6, 2006 6:20:29 GMT -5
Well, I'm going to dive right in here...not only am I a forum newbie, I also have never, ever written a fanfic ever. That is, until I visited this board and was so inspired by all the truly brilliant things you all have written before me.
So here, I humbly submit to all of you my first attempt at a Red Eye FanFic. I have no idea what I'm doing, so any feedback is appreciated! And yes, I'm a little shy about sharing this, but if I don't do it here, where else would I?
Thanks for taking the time to read...
GUARDIAN ANGEL
A sea breeze, he writes down discreetly on a small notepad with his favorite red pen. After another glance at the woman at the bar, he adds, again. Surreptitiously, he catches a glimpse of her profile, the alabaster skin of her cheek, her full lips forming a polite “Thank You” to the bartender, and her auburn hair swinging as she turns away.
Jackson was used to watching people. It was, after all, a professional necessity, and he was nothing if not the consummate professional. The truth was, however, even before it was his business to do so, he’d always been a people watcher: an observer not a participator, an outsider looking in.
We’re a lot the same, Jackson thinks as Lisa walks past a group of rowdy guys to get to a little table of her own. They are, underneath it all, two ambitious and driven people throwing themselves into their work in order to forget the crushing loneliness of their personal lives. He actually felt a little guilty that the intersection of their lives would have to be about business. What if it were another place, another time? Could they have relieved each other’s loneliness? But such is life, he reasoned.
His eyes strain to keep track of her from across the room; she slumps over her drink in one hand, and gazes at something in the other. What is she looking at?
***
Lisa stared at the prayer card one of her grandma’s church friends gave her at the funeral. “Guardian Angel Prayer” it was called.
It was a sweet idea, she thought, but was it true? Was there really a guardian angel out there for everyone, someone watching over you, looking out for you, keeping you safe? Even though Lisa always tried her best to be positive, she couldn’t help but wonder where her grandma’s was the night she had her stroke. Or, more bitterly, where hers was the day she got her scar.
Lisa took those thoughts and buried them deep inside of her. This is why she couldn’t talk to people anymore. She was such a people-pleaser, always wanting to show a brave face, the bright side. But inside was a storm of dark emotions she would not, could not expose. With a sigh, she picked up her glass and drained the rest of her drink down.
***
She’s been really sad lately, he’s noticed; the death of her grandmother must have affected her deeply. Jackson, unaccustomed to feeling much for a professional mark, much less anyone, is swept away in a flood of sympathy. He surprises even himself by wishing there was something he could do to bring her comfort.
That's not like me. He hasn’t been himself lately. It’s like some secret part of him has been unearthed these past few weeks—a relic of emotions he’d stuffed deep inside himself since the death of his parents. It was my fault; if I hadn’t run away they would have never gone out looking for me, crashing the car in the rain like that. I killed them.
He is jolted out of his flashback when his line of sight is unexpectedly broken. Snap out of it, he wills himself. Concentrate on work, don’t let emotions get the best of you.
***
Lisa shudders, pulling her sweater tighter around her. No, it’s not the cold. Her intuition is making her defenses tingle. She has a feeling—no, she is certain that someone was watching her. Suddenly, a hand on her shoulder startles her, and she drops her card. She turns around to find a strange man looming over her, his mouth pulled into a grin.
“Hi there,” he says, putting his hand out amiably.
“Hello,” she stammers, not accepting his invitation for a handshake.
“Kinda jumpy, aren’t you? Sorry to sneak up on you like that,” he laughs still holding out his hand.
Lisa lowers her eyes, unsure of how to respond.
“What, your mother tell you not to talk to strangers? Well then let me introduce myself. The name’s Chris. And you are…” His big paw remains awkwardly in the air between them until Lisa finally shakes it hesitantly.
“Lisa,” she says, instantly regretting it. I can’t believe I just gave this stranger my real name. Why did I do that? Am I so afraid of someone thinking I’m rude I can’t turn off this compulsion to be so damn accommodating all the time?
Smiling at her with his green eyes gleaming, he brushes his sandy blond hair out of his eyes. “Can I get you another drink?”
“Ah no, the one’s enough for me.”
He moves to sit down next to her, and she quickly says, “I...I’m expecting my friend any minute now.”
“How ‘bout I keep you company till your ‘friend’ gets here?”
Lisa draws a deep breath, looking for the strength to stick up for herself for once instead of being so damn nice all the time. “Look, honestly, I’m not really in the mood for company right now. I…I just recently…My grandmother died and I’m just not—”
“Well that takes the cake.”
“Excuse me?”
“Look, hon. I have heard some pretty creative excuses from broads trying to blow me off before, but that one’s got to be the worst.”
Stunned, Lisa recoils from the big lug, “Look, I am, for the record, not lying about this at all. But even if my grandma was still alive, she would probably blow you off herself, you moronic Neanderthal.”
***
Good girl, Jackson thinks, suppressing a smirk. Must not be her type. Just what is her type, Jackson wonders to himself, although the question he really wants to ask, but won’t admit, is Would I be her type?
Chris returns to where all his buddies are congregated, his bulky body again blocking Jackson’s view of Lisa. “D yke,” Chris says snarkily, nodding his head in the direction of her table. His buddies burst out in laughter.
Jackson’s eyes freeze over into a frightening ice blue as he tracks Chris’s movements. “Gotta take a wiz,” the gigantic blond mumbles, as he walks to the restroom.
In the bathroom, Chris stands at the urinal in a haze of too much beer, leaning against the wall with his free hand while the other does its business. It hasn’t been a lucky night for him, but what he doesn’t know is that it’s about to get even worse. From out of nowhere he feels his body getting slammed onto cold tile, his face smashed against the wall.
“You can take the boy out of the frat, but you can’t take the frat out of the boy,” a spite-filled voice intones from behind. Though smaller than Chris, Jackson is able to twist his arm into a submission hold so he can’t turn around. “Don’t worry about getting a good look at me, I’ll be gone before you’re even conscious again. I just wanted you to know that if you find yourself unlucky with the ladies, maybe it’s because you are a complete and utter bastard. That might be alright for some cheap bar wh*re, but that’s no way to treat a real woman. And the woman who just rejected your pitiful ass tonight? She deserves better.” Jackson then swiftly headbutts Chris into oblivion, and allows his big, unconscious body to slide slowly onto the linoleum.
***
It’s been a crummy night, and Lisa cannot wait to get home. Little wonder she’s become such a homebody. It’s nights like these that make her wish she’d stayed home in her jammies watching an old movie on cable. Why’d I even bother to get out of bed, she asks herself bitterly. Hurriedly, she grabs her purse and rushes to the exit, but is curtailed by the touch of someone’s hand on her shoulder again.
“Don’t you dare put your hands on me,” Lisa gasps, turning in panic.
“I’m so sorry,” a slight brunette says, taken aback.
From her uniform, Lisa can see she’s one of the waitresses, and instantly returns to her default nice mode. “Oh God, no, I’m the one who’s sorry. I thought—”
“No problem,” the waitress says, sincerely. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that. Some guy just wanted me to give this to you.”
Lisa looks around suspiciously, “It wasn’t that big blond guy was it? I don’t want anything from him.”
“One of those troglodytes?” The waitress laughs, “No. This was from some other fellow. Cute guy, more the cerebral type. Anyway, it seemed really important to him that I give this to you.”
The waitress hands Lisa the Guardian Angel card she had dropped. Lisa looks at it, thankful she didn’t forget it, but then searches around the room, confused. “Who is he, is he still here?”
The waitress scans the crowd, “Hmm, no, I guess he must have left. Anyway, I gotta get back. I’m real sorry I startled you.”
Lisa smiles to the waitress before she disappears into the crowd, leaving her alone to read the Guardian Angel card again. Scrawled in red ink, underneath the prayer was the hand-written inscription: Believe.
So here, I humbly submit to all of you my first attempt at a Red Eye FanFic. I have no idea what I'm doing, so any feedback is appreciated! And yes, I'm a little shy about sharing this, but if I don't do it here, where else would I?
Thanks for taking the time to read...
GUARDIAN ANGEL
A sea breeze, he writes down discreetly on a small notepad with his favorite red pen. After another glance at the woman at the bar, he adds, again. Surreptitiously, he catches a glimpse of her profile, the alabaster skin of her cheek, her full lips forming a polite “Thank You” to the bartender, and her auburn hair swinging as she turns away.
Jackson was used to watching people. It was, after all, a professional necessity, and he was nothing if not the consummate professional. The truth was, however, even before it was his business to do so, he’d always been a people watcher: an observer not a participator, an outsider looking in.
We’re a lot the same, Jackson thinks as Lisa walks past a group of rowdy guys to get to a little table of her own. They are, underneath it all, two ambitious and driven people throwing themselves into their work in order to forget the crushing loneliness of their personal lives. He actually felt a little guilty that the intersection of their lives would have to be about business. What if it were another place, another time? Could they have relieved each other’s loneliness? But such is life, he reasoned.
His eyes strain to keep track of her from across the room; she slumps over her drink in one hand, and gazes at something in the other. What is she looking at?
***
Lisa stared at the prayer card one of her grandma’s church friends gave her at the funeral. “Guardian Angel Prayer” it was called.
Angel of God, my guardian dear,
to whom God's love commits me here;
Watch over me throughout the night,
keep me safe within your sight.
It was a sweet idea, she thought, but was it true? Was there really a guardian angel out there for everyone, someone watching over you, looking out for you, keeping you safe? Even though Lisa always tried her best to be positive, she couldn’t help but wonder where her grandma’s was the night she had her stroke. Or, more bitterly, where hers was the day she got her scar.
Lisa took those thoughts and buried them deep inside of her. This is why she couldn’t talk to people anymore. She was such a people-pleaser, always wanting to show a brave face, the bright side. But inside was a storm of dark emotions she would not, could not expose. With a sigh, she picked up her glass and drained the rest of her drink down.
***
She’s been really sad lately, he’s noticed; the death of her grandmother must have affected her deeply. Jackson, unaccustomed to feeling much for a professional mark, much less anyone, is swept away in a flood of sympathy. He surprises even himself by wishing there was something he could do to bring her comfort.
That's not like me. He hasn’t been himself lately. It’s like some secret part of him has been unearthed these past few weeks—a relic of emotions he’d stuffed deep inside himself since the death of his parents. It was my fault; if I hadn’t run away they would have never gone out looking for me, crashing the car in the rain like that. I killed them.
He is jolted out of his flashback when his line of sight is unexpectedly broken. Snap out of it, he wills himself. Concentrate on work, don’t let emotions get the best of you.
***
Lisa shudders, pulling her sweater tighter around her. No, it’s not the cold. Her intuition is making her defenses tingle. She has a feeling—no, she is certain that someone was watching her. Suddenly, a hand on her shoulder startles her, and she drops her card. She turns around to find a strange man looming over her, his mouth pulled into a grin.
“Hi there,” he says, putting his hand out amiably.
“Hello,” she stammers, not accepting his invitation for a handshake.
“Kinda jumpy, aren’t you? Sorry to sneak up on you like that,” he laughs still holding out his hand.
Lisa lowers her eyes, unsure of how to respond.
“What, your mother tell you not to talk to strangers? Well then let me introduce myself. The name’s Chris. And you are…” His big paw remains awkwardly in the air between them until Lisa finally shakes it hesitantly.
“Lisa,” she says, instantly regretting it. I can’t believe I just gave this stranger my real name. Why did I do that? Am I so afraid of someone thinking I’m rude I can’t turn off this compulsion to be so damn accommodating all the time?
Smiling at her with his green eyes gleaming, he brushes his sandy blond hair out of his eyes. “Can I get you another drink?”
“Ah no, the one’s enough for me.”
He moves to sit down next to her, and she quickly says, “I...I’m expecting my friend any minute now.”
“How ‘bout I keep you company till your ‘friend’ gets here?”
Lisa draws a deep breath, looking for the strength to stick up for herself for once instead of being so damn nice all the time. “Look, honestly, I’m not really in the mood for company right now. I…I just recently…My grandmother died and I’m just not—”
“Well that takes the cake.”
“Excuse me?”
“Look, hon. I have heard some pretty creative excuses from broads trying to blow me off before, but that one’s got to be the worst.”
Stunned, Lisa recoils from the big lug, “Look, I am, for the record, not lying about this at all. But even if my grandma was still alive, she would probably blow you off herself, you moronic Neanderthal.”
***
Good girl, Jackson thinks, suppressing a smirk. Must not be her type. Just what is her type, Jackson wonders to himself, although the question he really wants to ask, but won’t admit, is Would I be her type?
Chris returns to where all his buddies are congregated, his bulky body again blocking Jackson’s view of Lisa. “D yke,” Chris says snarkily, nodding his head in the direction of her table. His buddies burst out in laughter.
Jackson’s eyes freeze over into a frightening ice blue as he tracks Chris’s movements. “Gotta take a wiz,” the gigantic blond mumbles, as he walks to the restroom.
In the bathroom, Chris stands at the urinal in a haze of too much beer, leaning against the wall with his free hand while the other does its business. It hasn’t been a lucky night for him, but what he doesn’t know is that it’s about to get even worse. From out of nowhere he feels his body getting slammed onto cold tile, his face smashed against the wall.
“You can take the boy out of the frat, but you can’t take the frat out of the boy,” a spite-filled voice intones from behind. Though smaller than Chris, Jackson is able to twist his arm into a submission hold so he can’t turn around. “Don’t worry about getting a good look at me, I’ll be gone before you’re even conscious again. I just wanted you to know that if you find yourself unlucky with the ladies, maybe it’s because you are a complete and utter bastard. That might be alright for some cheap bar wh*re, but that’s no way to treat a real woman. And the woman who just rejected your pitiful ass tonight? She deserves better.” Jackson then swiftly headbutts Chris into oblivion, and allows his big, unconscious body to slide slowly onto the linoleum.
***
It’s been a crummy night, and Lisa cannot wait to get home. Little wonder she’s become such a homebody. It’s nights like these that make her wish she’d stayed home in her jammies watching an old movie on cable. Why’d I even bother to get out of bed, she asks herself bitterly. Hurriedly, she grabs her purse and rushes to the exit, but is curtailed by the touch of someone’s hand on her shoulder again.
“Don’t you dare put your hands on me,” Lisa gasps, turning in panic.
“I’m so sorry,” a slight brunette says, taken aback.
From her uniform, Lisa can see she’s one of the waitresses, and instantly returns to her default nice mode. “Oh God, no, I’m the one who’s sorry. I thought—”
“No problem,” the waitress says, sincerely. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that. Some guy just wanted me to give this to you.”
Lisa looks around suspiciously, “It wasn’t that big blond guy was it? I don’t want anything from him.”
“One of those troglodytes?” The waitress laughs, “No. This was from some other fellow. Cute guy, more the cerebral type. Anyway, it seemed really important to him that I give this to you.”
The waitress hands Lisa the Guardian Angel card she had dropped. Lisa looks at it, thankful she didn’t forget it, but then searches around the room, confused. “Who is he, is he still here?”
The waitress scans the crowd, “Hmm, no, I guess he must have left. Anyway, I gotta get back. I’m real sorry I startled you.”
Lisa smiles to the waitress before she disappears into the crowd, leaving her alone to read the Guardian Angel card again. Scrawled in red ink, underneath the prayer was the hand-written inscription: Believe.
Can't wait for the next chapter! 
...I really like this one, hope to read more.
