Babel The sound of an alarm clock rang throughout a small room. As the sound slightly echoed, a young girl awoke, letting out a quiet moan. She reached her arm out from under her bed sheets, beginning to tap on the alarm clock. It took several attempts until she was able to turn it off. She let out a deep sigh as she sat up, scratching the back of her head. “Rosette, hurry up before you’re late for school!†a feminine voice called from outside her room. Rosette sighed once more before getting out of the bed and getting ready for school. — As she rushed down stairs, she heard the sound of the front door being closed; she walked to the kitchen, knowing her mother had just left for work. On the counter, Rosette saw her mother had left money for dinner. She’s going to be late again. She thought to herself as she took the money, putting it in her pocket. She never liked the way her mother was always late; her job came before Rosette. Rosette shook her head, not caring about the neglection; she picked up her bag from the counter and left for school. — As she arrived at school, Rosette headed to her first class, American Literature. She kept her head down, staring down at the pavement as she walked. For some reason, she never liked keeping her head up, unless, she was in a hurry to be somewhere. “Rosette!†called a high pitched feminine voice. Rosette slowed down until she came to a stop, raising her head as she turned around. She let a smile show, seeing her closest friend, Lyanne, walking towards her. “Hey!†Lyanne said in a cheerful tone. “Hey...†Rosette said in a soft tone. She turned back around, continuing to walk with Lyanne following behind her. “Sooo....†Lyanne began. “Ho-†“Vacation was boring, as always.†Rosette interrupted Lyanne, already knowing the same question her friends always ask her. “Oh come on! There has to have been something that was exciting for you.†Lyanne whined. “You need to learn to go out more.†“Anti-social people don’t really like going out. So therefore, I consider myself anti-social.†Rosette muttered as she dug her hands into her pockets. “You have friends, don’t you?†“Yeah.†“Then you’re not anti-social!†Rosette shook her head, chuckling. She already knew she was anti-social; and, it didn’t even bother her. Lyanne stared at her friend, shaking her head and letting out a quiet sigh. “Oh well. I’m heading to my class. I’ll see you later, Rosette.†Lyanne turned around and headed back to the direction she had come from. Rosette lowered her head, chuckling once more; but this time on Lyanne’s personality. She was always loud and outgoing; while Rosette was quiet and timid. Many people always wondered how they even became friends in the first place. The school’s bell rang for students to head to their first class. Rosette had a feeling she’d be late for class; she slowly picked up her pace until she took off running, seeing other students run so they wouldn’t be late for their class. — School’s always boring, no matter what. Rosette rolled her shoulders, staring up at the leaves of the trees that were in her neighborhood. She kept her arms crossed as she stared up, feeling the sun hit part of her face, daydreaming. Mom’s always late, Dad’s never around, I have to do everything around the house. Rosette frowned, lowering her head and kicking a rock across the street. “I might as well move out.†Rosette put her arms down to her sides as she crossed the street, heading to her house. Although her mom neglected her, she somehow never neglected the house. The front yard was a nice green and was cut nicely. Rosette entered her home, dropping her bag by the door and stood in the same spot for a couple seconds, wondering if her mother would’ve been home by now. She moved her eyes back and forth, hearing nothing but the sound of a few cars passing by her neighborhood. She rubbed the back of her head, sighing and walking towards the couch. She threw herself onto the couch, leaning her head back, looking up at the ceiling. Rosette slowly closed her eyes, soon falling asleep. — Rosette groaned as she opened her eyes; she was lying on the floor but, she wasn’t at her house at all. She placed her hands against the floor, pushing herself to sit up. She looked around the area; she turned her head to look over her shoulder and what she saw was a long hallway. “What the....†She trailed off as she stood up, keeping her eyes down the hallway. She took one simple step forward and heard the sound echo. “Whoa....†Rosette raised an eyebrow as she placed one hand on her head. Something was telling her she should move ahead and go down the hall; or up. “Well, curiosity’s getting the best of me.†She took a deep breath and began to walk, heading through the hallway. ********* The morning dawned like any other did before it and any other would after it. The birds chirped and nattered on as the sun cast its warmth over the horizon incrementing it’s intensity with every inch it crept over the horizon. The campus was only just beginning to stir to life when Arica awoke and looked over at her window, which was disturbingly opened by the hand of her overly friendly and lively roommate. She hadn’t had one that she liked since she got into University two years prior. The present girl was like a festering wound that worsened with every passing day, with her obscene positivity and overall world view. That wasn’t a problem, it was a hurdle to overcome and take in stride. Arica stared at the window disdainfully as if that would close it and block out the sounds and smells of the outdoors. It failed. She finally got up and stretched, with a casual glance at the clock she realized she had an hour to burn before she had to start being ready to be anywhere and began to resent even more her being from sleep untimely ripped. It had been a nice dream too, that the birds interrupted, one without so much as a single image or notion that could be possibly related to failure or working. But it was alas over and the day had begun. Several minutes later Arica had changed into her street clothes and was just picking up her bag of books when she cast her gaze over at the side of her room that she called “The Dark Sideâ€. Everything was so pristinely tidy, from the soiled clothes to the miniature refrigerator, everything was perfectly compartmentalized and separated that it looked like the work of some servant or maid that had no skills to do anything other than earn their keep through doing utterly pointless and mundane chores that would need to be done countless times over again to no satisfactory end. “I’m going to one kill her one of these days.†She shook her head disapprovingly at the tidy pile of clothes set at the foot of her roommate’s properly made bed. “And people are going to wonder why.†Arica walked out onto the disturbingly sunny campus and ambled and gamboled about in a convoluted route to her first class which would commence in two hours. On her way Arica passed by several clusters of students making their way around closely packed together, like a fold of sheep or a herd of wildebeest. This made her shudder with both intellectual revulsion and involuntary, visceral, disgust. She’d always hated being around large groups, you couldn’t talk to any one person without another getting involved halfway through and changing the topic whilst being brought up to speed on the present one, no one could get in a word of protest at the direction of the group without having a huge discussion over an essentially pointless matter, the number of brains seemed to decrease steadily between the group members until they were all sharing one and causing a riotous uproar about nothing for no reason, and it seemed like a cesspool of maladies lying dormant on the clothing of others and hanging in their breath, their often pungent breath. So Arica held her breath and did her best to avoid getting tangled up in the ridiculous revelry as their paths crossed. By the time the girl had reached her destination she had barely more than an hour left to waste before attending her lecture so she placed her headphones over her ears, flipped through several albums, found the one she was looking for, and sighed, letting the harsh vibrations engulf her mind and drown out the world if only for a moment. “What ‘cha listening to?†A boy had approached her while she wasn’t paying attention. Maybe he was trying to talk to her because she looked so much like a boy as well and just figured it was friendly to do so. Maybe he was homosexual. Maybe he was actually just that strange. All these options flashed before Arica responded, but she chose to simply answer the question and hope it appeased him enough to make pointless her random musings. “Meshuggah.†“I am not crazy.†He chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck. He was probably nervous about something, maybe he’d found out that Arica was a girl from her voice and wasn’t expecting it, maybe he was actually trying to talk to her BECAUSE she was a girl, or maybe Arica had no idea and never would. She blinked at him blankly for a moment as she mulled it over in her head. Finally she decided it was most polite to respond to the best of her ability. Still she did not make contact and instead looked several inches to the left of his head, from his perspective it would be left that is, and there focused her gaze. “Ha ha. It’s a band, not just a word Jewish mothers use to insult their children.†He was silent momentarily, perhaps thrown for a loop or maybe just slowly thinking out his next move out of either cluelessness or caution. “Well, I noticed your foot was beating out a different rhythm than your finger and your head was bobbing at another one too.†He said after some thought, answering the burning question of why he’d approached in the first place. Though hardly satisfactorily in Arica’s opinion. “Polyrhythm.†Arica named the action more out of habit than out of any actual need to inform him. “Yeah. I know.†The boy responded with an awkward smile. “Didn’t know music majors came around these parts.†Arica said flatly. “Well, I actually just learned from an old piano teacher. He was a music major. So you play in a band?†He motioned to the guitar case she had strapped to her back at all times. “No.†She simply answered. “Oh, well I guess you play right?†He was rubbing the back of his neck again, maybe he meant to ask something, maybe he meant to do something, or maybe he was just nervous for an unrelated reason. “Yes.†“That’s cool.†He was probably trying his best to sound casual and winning, it failed. “Is it?†“Yeah, you know how you get into the music and you just…†He trailed off when he noticed Arica shook her head slowly as he spoke. “You don’t?†“It’s just a set of tones and rhythms interchanged in an aesthetically pleasing fashion, I feel the groove and understand the chord progressions, locking in mathematically and musically, but I wouldn’t really say I get into it.†“Oh.†He squeaked, somewhat bewildered and dishearten sounding as he did so. “Well, you like music?†“I suppose.†She responded. “Well me too. Do you think maybe we could talk about it some more over coffee…†He trailed off again when she began shaking her head again. “I hate coffee.†She informed him. “Really?†“Yes.†“Why?†“Do you know what opium is like?†He shook his head confusedly. “Then meth?†“I heard, but what does this have to do with…†“Caffeine is like both of those to me, first meth, then opium.†She said plainly then hung her head lazily and didn‘t return it to the upright position. “It’s not fun.†“So I guess that’s a no to coffee. How about tea, I like tea better really.†He suggested with a slightly offhand tone that seemed to be less affected than his earlier speech. “Same.†Arica answered without looking up at him. “Most people don’t get it.†He laughed; he had a slightly obnoxious laugh. “So what kind do you like best?†“Green.†She said finally looking back up to the same spot several inches to the left of his head that she’d been focused on before. “It’s Earl Grey for me.†“Okay.†“So tea, how’s tonight…†“I’m sorry. I gave you the impression that I was interested in your offer. I didn’t mean to waste your time, I have to go now.†Arica paused to see if the boy looked as if he’d respond, then she left without another word. She didn’t really have to go for some time but she’d prefer not to get too involved over something as stupid as trying to be too accommodating and polite, both of which she was horrible at. “Tonight at eight, if you don’t have anything better to do, I’ll see you then!†He called after her, at first it looked like she hadn’t heard but Arica turned around, walked back to him and almost reticently breathed one word to him. “Acceptable.†********** Conversations and wisps of smoke intertwined together within the wooden beams that transected above the cramped bar. Bar stools and booths strained beneath swelling patronage. Beer cascaded non-stop while a lone chair rested bathed in a veil of warm white light huddled against the back wall. Faces blurred together into a single entity, residing in moments of happiness. One face breaks from the complacent sea, navigating its way from the bar toward the statuesque chair. The figure’s hands dance around behind the chair, as a beautifully handled Gibson J-185 EC rose from its slumber. A silver pick materialized and methodically and patiently danced upon the strings as sounds of conversation slowly ebbed to puddles. The music leap from the guitar, striking chords within each person within earshot. The alcoholic fog slowly dissipated as characteristics rose from the guitarist’s fingers systematically flashed across the neck while the pick twirled and tangoed with the strings. The hands were unrestricted as they blended within a naked forearm adorned with no punk rock paraphernalia or discrete red pinpricks. The clothing was an enigma in its own right. The guitarist wore a button-up white long sleeve shirt rolled up at the sleeves and unbuttoned twice at the collar, revealing a somewhat built chest. A vest the color of the darkest ocean was met with dark jeans ending in black cowboy boots. His hair was dark auburn, cut tight into the neck while the top remained wild and unpredictable. A spot of red expanded across his right cheek bone, culminating along his jaw into a unique tattoo blending themes of Japanese characters and Tongan tribal symbols. The guitarist closed his eyes, allowing the music to seep from every corner of his soul. Every corner, save one. The edges of the bitter and hatred resided in that corner, fortified behind a bullet proof shell. That part of his soul slumbered, pacing through his subconscious, stalking the moment of its release. Patience guarded that gate as words came be fruitation. Well the scene begins, a little girl is crying And the light in the hallway is dim And she sits right back, thinks of the reason Why nothing will fall into place She gets more and more curious with every day More furious in every way And she screams out loud, "Why's it happening to me?" And the answer is "It's meant to be"... She moves amongst the crowd, The people they walk by She questions why they'll have to die If it's part of our lives, So beautiful and precious She knows that she shouldn't be afraid Of all this... There's times that she hates you There's times that she thanks you And hope that you might understand It gets hard down here So many things to fear But it's all just a sign that you're near... Well she's on her knees And begging please She wonders if there's somebody out there To make things wrong To make things right It might be That there's somebody out there. Songs drew upon hours as the patrons returned home with the music still rattling within their intoxicated stupor. The man behind the counter smiled, knowing without needing to check the till that this mystery guitarist had allowed him to come out further ahead this week than he had hoped, and would go to any length to have this young man return. “That was some mighty fine music you created up there son. I over heard quite a few of the ladies taking an interest in a little bit more than just your guitar.†The guitarist nodded politely as he replaced the Gibson within its hallowed sanctuary. “It’s not too often we get ourselves some fresh talent here in Lubbock.†“I assumed that as well.†The guitarist responded, releasing the words rife with a foreign flare. The bar owner paused turning his attention from taking stock of the liquor back toward the guitarist. “That’s some accent you got there. It doesn’t come across in the music at all. Do you mind me asking you where you are from?†The guitarist remained bent over the guitar case. “It is not a problem at all. I’m from a small citta outside of Genova Italia; San Llano Ligure to be precise.†From behind the counter, a dual pump action shotgun leapt to the owners shoulder the same instant a bottle of Jack Daniels erupted behind the owner. He spun around, confused to see the twisted glass shards surrounding a thumb size hole within the wall etched with droplets of blood and whiskey. The shotgun fell from his hands as a cold numbness spread from his chest, invading his arms and finally his legs. The guitarist moved forward without a sound, a Walther PPK pointed steadily on the owner’s head. The edge of blackness slowly bled into the owner’s sight as the guitarist moved forward, his hands clutching the shotgun, unable to raise it for one final stand. “I tol—I told him that the drop off would be delayed one week.†“Delays or not, my employer has decided to drop your option.†“Have some soul!†The owner stammered, thrusting a stack of bills his face, “I can make this up, I just need—“ The bullet rippled through the skull, shredding tissue before imbedding itself in the thick counter. The guitarist was on the move before the owner’s body hit the ground, pocketing the PPK within the guitar case beneath a red velvet cover. The guitarist stepped around the stage chair, depressing switches, blanketing the shattered bar in total darkness. He turned towards the door, stepping over the owner’s twitching corpse, pocketing the money as the life drained from his eyes. A taxi sat idling just past the entrance, the driver sat hard at work enjoying the opinion section in the late edition. Soft rock danced around the interior as the driver enjoyed his momentary sanctuary. With a swift rap on the glass, the driver jumped, dropping the paper past his legs. “You nearly gave me a heart attack boy! How would that have looked if my fare had to drive ME to the hospital?†He laughed his imagination playing out the humorous scenario. The guitarist said nothing as he climbed into the back seat. “Where am I taking the silent guitarist?†he asked, eyes probing from the rear-view mirror. “San Angelo Airport.†The driver turned, blinking, unsure if he had heard correctly. “San Angelo? You know that’s close to two hundred miles from here?†The guitarist remained motionless, hand hovering still on the door handle. “I can find another taxi then.†The door clicked open. “No! I just wanted to make sure I heard you right. I don’t want to drive all the way there to either be robbed, ditched, or not paid.†“What reason would I have to kill you?†He asked, leaning forward and depositing five one-hundred dollar bills on the passenger seat. The guitarist leaned back while the taxi merged onto the sleeping Highway 87 with one ticket out of San Angelo Regional Airport tucked away inside his vest pocket along with a scrap up paper containing only an address and a name. His eyes closed as miles away, the blood congealed around the owner’s lifeless body, reflecting scattered light from the street lamps and a billboard advertising shaving cream like a twisted black and white movie. ********** The firm hand meticulously travelled across the series of blacks and whites, emitting a myriad of sounds in its wake, gently washing away the silence of the midnight hour. The hand’s owner looked at the paper set on the musical contraption before him; it was a very simplistic sounding song. “It’s simple enough for you to play, the trick lies with what you accompany it with…†The boy sighed for a moment and the sound of water running down the throat could be heard, he coughed for a moment and repositioned himself as he breathed in and out. He let his eyes travel through the chapel, to inspect if anyone was there, and looked at how the moon reflected in the ventricle. He knew it wasn’t right to use the piano unless there was service, but he didn’t wish to get laughed at back at the musical department at his school, so he just made his way through the town and into the chapel to practice. He released a longer sigh this time and from his voice began emanating the contents of the written piece. His hands, once again traveled over the blacks and whites, leaving traces of blood over them as they did. His voice echoed through the chapel’s acoustics. Soon he began singing the unknown wording of the song as his hand traveled further, committing some mistakes in execution but continuing through the piece. “That’s pretty good†Someone was standing at the entrance’s border, his eyes fixated on the person singing. He looked over the empty chapel and moved under the moonlight to reveal himself for recognition. The boy at the piano froze as the piano hit a sour note; he didn’t expect anyone to be outside, especially at that hour. “Hey aren’t you-?†The boy revealing himself spoke. He was slim and dark, hardly distinguishable from shadows at times. “Yeah, I’m “Thevally†…one of them at least.†The boy positioned in the piano answered, as he tilted his head to one side to cover his face and at the same time have a good look at who he was talking to. He recognized the school uniform the other boy was wearing instantly. “I see. Is that song composed by you?†The boy asked getting closer to the altar where the piano stood. “It’s a Hymn and no, I didn’t compose it...†Thevally answered, half-heartedly. He could have sworn he saw the boy’s mouth curve into a smile like that of a cat’s. But perhaps it was all because of the blood loss playing tricks on his mind. If he could distract the boy enough, it wouldn’t matter if he saw his cut wrists or not anyways. “A hymn? It has quite a strange language…what is it about?†The boy asked, letting a smirk run across his face as he spoke. “I...don’t…Know†Thevally’s eyes began closing as he fell from the piano’s bench, and ultimately the altar. He felt as though everything came to him in slow motion as his consciousness began slipping away. “Sleep and forget†It wasn’t that he hated living, only the implications along with it. He usd to remember how his uncle told him that if singing didn’t work, he could always find refuge in his sleep. It was the only thing he had left. His body made forceful impact on the floor, as the boy in front of him stood there, confused and somewhat baffled by Thevally’s sudden fall. “What the-!†He looked at Thevally and at the pool of blood created on the floor by the open wounds on Thevally’s wrists. He smirked dryly as beads of sweat dropped from his brow. Thevally could hear, only faintly, the words of the boy; as his eyes entered complete darkness. “This kid s one crazy mother…!†Thevally’s eyes closed just as he heard the last words. ********* This story is a collaborative project. I thank Aura, Destined, and Jiku Neon for participating, and making this story what it is. We had been working on it for a while, so we appreciate you reading. We will be updating this frequently so come and check often.
Guys you did an amazing job with this collab. Like seriously, amazing. For: “That’s cool.†He was probably trying his best to sound casual and winning, it failed." It should really say "winning, but it failed". And I think Thevally's name could be used a little less at the end, it gets repetitive. But otherwise, I love it. You guys are a really great team at this x3
This needs more love D: I wasn't going to post here since I can't give proper feedback, but this is awesome and I can't wait for more. Though the third part was a bit hard to understand, though, that may be my fualt for reading it after being up for so long. And the second part is my favorite, then the last bit. As for the first part, it's nice, but I think it could use more details.
:b obviously I know who wrote which part, and I have to say congrats for Aura, they did a good job replacing me <3 you've got some skills love. You guys know I already love what is written so far, I look forward to seeing how this progresses. My favourite character so far is Arica. Good luck guys <3 I'll be cheering you on.
well i read most and it was awesome it was long so i kinda started loosin interrest after Arica but im curious about her and the girl before her so ill keep on reading great job by the way it was really good
