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 A Revenge
Darrel Curtis
 Posted: May 23 2017, 11:04 AM
Quote
Fiction
by: sophie
It's tough everywhere.


It's tough all around.

Darry was a lot of things. Big brother. Mechanic. He was smart. He was a man. He was a guardian. But one thing he wasn't, was always levelheaded. Maybe Darry came off levelheaded most of the time, but not this time. No, not this time.

Soda had been late that day. Everyone knew to be back by 9. Soda wasn't. Of course Darry was going to lose his top! So Darry rounded everyone up. He called in all his boys into the living room, he waited for Two Bit. He waited for every, everyone to be there. He knew Johnny wouldn't go, he knew Dally would. He figured Pony would. They were leaving the book, they were going to find Soda.

"Soda ain't home, and we know he should be. I'm not real sure where he is, but I know he was leaving the book. That's where we start. The library." Darry started. He looked over at Dally, with a cigarette in his mouth and nodded once. Dally gave him a grin. Dally was always up for an adventure. Darry? Not so much, but this was necessary.

To make a long story short, they found Soda. Absolutely, they found him. Where all the dead go for their hours of death, until their return. No one wanted to go in the room, no one wanted to be faced with the reality of Soda's possible death. Hell, maybe he hadn't died at all. Darry pushed open the door to the crypt like room, and instantly smelled the scent of death.

Darry walked in, Dally behind him. Soda's body lay on the ground, next to another character. Soda's body was in a bad way. Shit, Dally muttered, both boys holding a hand or an arm over their nose. Soda lay with a wound to the chest, his shirt was bloodsoaked, and his body was broken badly. He'd clearly had a fall. Dally left then, and Darry didn't bother trying to stop him. He could'nt stop looking at Soda's body.

Darry stared, a sob choking him. The crying sounds were muted, but the tears came anyway. He was so broken, so beaten. THe tears rolled down his cheeks and the only sound was his sniffling. Soda had done it, he'd gone and gotten himself badly killed. There was no way for Darry to tell how long he had until he came back around. But he knew it was enough time to devise a plan. At least mentally. ANd that's how the hours went until Soda came back. But he'd wait, sob, cry, wait some more. Until the time came that he'd see Soda alive and well, and then he'd beat the crap outta that boy himself.

Later that day at home when Soda arrived When Soda finally walked through the front door, Darry didn't know how to respond. He wished he could respond calmly, but he knew that was a wish far away. Darry stood up, shoving his hands in his pockets. "What the HELL do you think you were doing? Seriously, I want to know! What was going through your head when you decided to end up the way you did?! Do you have ANY IDEA how...how...distraught we were?! Get your ass in here and sit it down in a damn chair, boy!" he yelled, the fear and anxiety of losing his brother, again, surfacing all over again.

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Sodapop Curtis
 Posted: May 23 2017, 12:02 PM
Quote
Pens
by: Brock
Soda never touches a drop—he doesn‘t have to. He gets drunk on just plain living. And he understands everybody.


May 3, 2017 @ 10:15AM



When Soda awoke, he found himself in a familiar room. One of his friends must have brought him back to their gang's "revival room". The last thing Soda remembered, a man who could turn into shadow had stabbed him in the chest with a sword then slit Soda's throat with Soda's own switchblade. Sodapop felt his shirt and his neck. Someone had cleaned the blood off of his skin, but his shirt was still crisp with it. Darry wasn't going to like seeing that.

Soda stood and stretched. Nearby he saw his partner from last night, the one who had fallen off of the shelf. He nodded at Soda, who returned the gesture in kind.

"Looks like you had it rougher than I did," the man commented.

Soda grinned. "Reckon so. How long you been awake?"

"No more than ten minutes, probably. I stuck around to ask what happened to you and the others."

Briefly, Soda recounted everything that happened after the man had fallen from the shelf. When he was done, the man whistled long and low. That and a shake of his head were his only replies.

"I gotta go," Soda said with a short wave. "My brother's gonna have a fit cuz I'm late. I hope he didn't see me here. I might be able to pretend that I was only hurt and not dead."

"Won't work if he checks ya for wounds," the guy pointed out. Soda hadn't thought of that. There wouldn't be any mark left on his body, only the blood on his shirt. Darry would know in an instant that Soda was keeping his death from him.

Soda sighed, bid his pal farewell, and returned to his book. He braced himself for Darry's reaction. He was gonna flip. Why, after fifteen years, couldn't he be like Dally and them who understood that, if he died, Soda would return in a few hours? Darry always had to go and get himself all worked up and in a tizzy.

After pausing at his front door for a second, Soda put on a casual grin and entered. "Anyone got breakfast for me? I'm starved."

Darry met his question with rage, which Soda knew only covered up his worry and his fear. Instead of sitting like Darry instructed him, Soda kept walking towards the bathroom. As he did, he shrugged off his plaid shirt and pulled off his white t-shirt. Not a mark on him.

"I was workin' this mornin', same as I've been doin' for fifteen years." Soda splashed water on his face and, for good measure, rubbed his wet hands down and across his neck. There wasn't any blood there, but he still felt cleaner for it.

Soda dried his face and neck with a clean part of his balled-up shirts. Then he faced Darry with a calm but understanding smile. "I'm alright, ain't I?" He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Dar, I love ya, but ya gotta stop gettin' so worked up about this kinda stuff. I always come back, don't I?"
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Darrel Curtis
 Posted: May 23 2017, 02:27 PM
Quote
Fiction
by: sophie
It's tough everywhere.


Darry's eyes went wide as SOda walked by him and into the kitchen. A chair. He could have sworn he'd told the kid to sit in a chair. He shook his head as he followed his brother into the bathroom. Darry watched as he washed up a bit, glancing at the places where he'd seen wounds before. NOthing was there, he was clean as the day he was born. No wounds. A part of Darry relaxed, but just for a moment.

Soda's hand came down on his shoulder, and he glanced at it before back at Soda. "You don't get it. Maybe I should go out and get myself slaughtered, bloodied up, broken, and let you deal with that emotional aftermath. Over, and over and over again. HOw about that?" He said, nodding once and clapping Soda on the chest.

Darry headed to the living room, grabbing his shirt. "Don't wait up, little brother. I'm going to 'work' and get myself killed. You can go to the crypt after and see my body lifeless, my heart still, and my lungs empty. Then, ONLY THEN, will we talk about how ya always come back." Darry said, his eyes wide as he pushed open the door and jogged down the front steps.
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Dallas Winston
 Posted: May 23 2017, 02:34 PM
Quote
Pen
by: Sophie
God, I didn't know you had this problem with, with yelling in my face.


Dally sat on the back of the couch as Soda came in. "Well ain't you cute all bloodied up. Rough night?" he asked, taking a draw of his cigarette and laughing low. He ruffled Johnny's hair and watched as Darry yelled at Soda. His smile faded. Darry was passionate about the boys, all of them, and sometimes it came out as anger and shouting. At least they all knew Darry loved them, regardless of how he showed it sometimes.

"Darry," he said, raising his eyebrows. HIs words went unspoken though, as Soda headed to the bathroom. Dally didn't follow. But he listened. Of course Darry would give Soda a taste of his own medicine. That wasn't the right way to go about it, though. "Darry..." Dally said again, this time in a warnign tone. He supposed it was possible that Darry would go over the edge eventually. He took every death to heart. Dally could understand that the deaths were only temporary. Darr could'tn do it. It was real to him every time. And eventually it would break him.

"So what, Dar? You're gonna go out there and get yourself killed? Are you serious?" He asked, following him out and taking Soda with him by the arm. He stood on the porch with Soda, Johnny in tow. Darry stood int he yard, his hand on the gate. "That's stupid. You've never died!" Dally said. It was like a record or something. THey all did somethign stupid, and got killed, once or twice. But Darry? Nah, he kept himsel fsafe and sound at home, at work, in the book. He didn't venture out to make trouble. He was stable, he was Dally's constant. This would break all that.

What else then, Dally? What's going to get thorugh to the kid that death is death, regardless of how long it lasts?" Dally looked at him and shook his head, indicating he didn't know. He let go of Soda's arm. "He's going to go out there and get himself killed for the first time. Better say something. Do something. Something. " Dally said, sitting on the top step and holding his cigarette in his fingers, lookign out at Darry.
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Johnny Cade
 Posted: May 23 2017, 04:17 PM
Quote
Fiction
by: Brock
If you can picture a little dark puppy that had been kicked too many times and is lost in a crowd of strangers, you'll have Johnny.


Johnny hated it when yelling went on in the Curtis house. Darry, Soda, and Pony--and their parents way back when they were alive--were the only good family Johnny had ever known. The gang, too, in its own way, was a good family. He knew all of them had their differences, that Darry in particular was under a lot of stress being the oldest and constantly responsible for his brothers. Sometimes people lost their tempers.

But Johnny came over to the Curtis house to escape the yelling that went on in his own home, so when arguments happened, he wished himself as small as possible and hoped it would all end soon. The brothers had a good family. A good life. Johnny couldn't stand to see them fight with each other. Sometimes, on real bad days, he was scared that the yelling wouldn't stop, and his good family would break like his real family had broken.

So Johnny stayed quiet and invisible while Darry snapped at Soda. Johnny saw both sides of it anyway and couldn't pick someone to side with if they asked him.

To everyone's surprise, Darry said something uncharacteristic: that he was going to leave the book and get himself killed. Johnny's eyes widened, and he followed Dally, Soda, and the rest of them onto the porch. Was Darry serious? Or was he just trying to get his point through to Soda? Darry hated leaving the book! And, like Johnny, he hated the wars! Surely this was a bluff! Johnny cast a worried glance from one Curtis brother to the other.
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Sodapop Curtis
 Posted: May 23 2017, 04:32 PM
Quote
Pens
by: Brock
Soda never touches a drop—he doesn‘t have to. He gets drunk on just plain living. And he understands everybody.


Darry didn't understand, and he probably never would. Not, at least, until he went through a few deaths himself, which Soda doubted he'd actually do. He was calling his brother's bluff. But he followed him out anyway, and only in part because Dally dragged him along.

When Dally sat on the steps, Soda walked over to his big brother. "Darry... Look, I can respect how hard it is for you to see that sorta stuff. I ain't sayin' I'd like to picture my brothers dead, either. But..." Soda sighed, ran a hand through his hair, then dropped his hand to his side. His other remained propped up at his waist. How did he say this? They'd been over this a thousand times, and neither of their opinions were going to change.

"You know I ain't gonna sit by and let our shelves--our book--become targets. That ain't me, man." For a brief moment, Soda flashed back to the extended version of their movie, which he had watched alongside the patron who had checked their book out. Then he flashed back to his meetings with the nonfiction war characters.

"I can't promise you that I won't die again, but you gotta know I don't go out their aimin' to get myself killed, yeah? Dar..." Soda paused again to find the right words.

"Can you see it from my point'a view? I've been at this for fifteen years--half my life and all of my book life. I've seen battles and deaths far beyond what any of us can come up with in the lot. I've lost friends more times than I can count, and they've lost me just about as many. And we always. come. back." He spoke gently but made sure to emphasize his point.

"Death... at least, our kind'a library death like that... It don't bother me anymore. Hasn't in years. Yeah, it's gruesome. Sure, I feel a moment of sickness at loss, but... it ain't the same as when we lost Mom and Dad." Soda's gaze softened and he stared up at his brother. "It's separate for me. Worlds apart. And I just... I dunno, Dar. I guess I can't see how it isn't that way for you yet."

After a second's pause, he added, "And ya know what? It's probably good that one of us can still feel that hurt so purely. I just wish you'd only feel that pure loss when we actually lose someone for good, not for just a few hours."
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Darrel Curtis
 Posted: May 24 2017, 11:26 AM
Quote
Fiction
by: sophie
It's tough everywhere.


Darry looked up at the porch. He felt bad for Johnny. The kid had enough going on at home without him adding to it at his sanctuary, Darry's own home. It was hard to reply to Soda. He listened to Soda, angrily, seethingly. He glanced up at the porch throughout Soda's spiel. But for the first time, in 15 years, Darry realized that someone had to give in. SOmeone had to let it go. It clearly wasn't going to be Sodapop. He took it as a job, and no good man was going to give up his job, especially when he was as passionate about it as his brother was.

Even though Darry completely disagreed with his brother, he knew something had to change. To Darry, Soda did intentionally go out and get killed, because he did it over and over again. Wasn't that the definition of stupidity? Doing the same thing over and over expecting different results? Darry sighed, ran a hand trhough his hand and shifted from one foot to the other. "It doesn't mean you just go out and get killed, being dangerous and reckless, just because you don't really die." He muttered, shaking his head.

Defeat. Because Darry was going to let it go, pretend it didn't bother him anymore, Darry felt a huge amount of defeat. Like giving up, because he had to. He had to push passed his emotional limits. He had to literally act, and pretend that he didn't feel a thing anymore. It was hard, and it made Darry sick. Purely? He felt it purely? That clearly wasn't enough.

Darry threw his hands up gently. "Alright. I got it. It's worlds apart. It's not really death. It's...a game. I got it," Darry acquiesced, and turned, opened the gate and closed it behind him. "I'll be back later. Gonna have a smoke at the lot. Maybe I'll let the Soc's kill me while I"m out there," he said sarcastically. Just because he was playing the game, didn't meant he 100% bought into it.
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Sodapop Curtis
 Posted: May 24 2017, 04:15 PM
Quote
Pens
by: Brock
Soda never touches a drop—he doesn‘t have to. He gets drunk on just plain living. And he understands everybody.


Soda listened, because listening was what he was good at. He'd had lots of practice at it, especially after their parents died. And he knew that Darry had a lot to say on this matter, so Soda allowed a silence to fill the space between his brother's sentences in order for Darry to get out everything he needed to vent.

His silence was encouraged by Darry's surprising statements, least of which was that he was going to go smoke. Darry never smoked. Or if he did, it was so rare that Soda couldn't recall a time when he saw a cigarette at his brother's lips. Pony was the smoker in the family, not Darry.

When Darry headed for the gate, Soda followed on his heels. There was no way he was letting his brother get away with all that. What was Darry thinking?! Soda might have had a thirst for living life and having fun, but he knew how to be serious, too. To accuse him of taking so lightly a matter as serious as gang battles--it wounded Soda more than the sword had. Did Darry really think him so...empty-headed as that?

"It ain't a game to me, Darry. I don't go out and find ways to end up dead. Believe it or not, I do try to come home alive. You think I was itchin' to get run through with a sword? To have my throat slit open with my own blade? I wasn't. I was tryin' to escape and get home. What I do--what me and Steve and Dally and 'em do--it ain't some game to us. Least it ain't to me." He couldn't technically speak for the others. To someone like Dally, it may very well be all fun and games.

"What we do is serious business. There's plans made, escape routes scouted out. Only reason I end up dead half as much as I do is cuz we ain't magical characters, and we ain't got any fancy weapons to help us out. We got guns and knives and swords and, if we're lucky, bombs and poisons. Sorry I couldn't beat a guy who could turn into a shadow in the blink of an eye."

Soda exhaled his stress. "All I'm sayin' is that, to me and a lot of others who do what I do, a library death isn't remotely the same as a real death, like Mom and Dad's was. It's more like ... a temporary hospital stay, 'cept instead'a bein' treated for stuff, we're reviving. Does any of that make the least bit'a sense, Dar?" Soda turned pleading eyes to his older brother.
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