The porch swing (maxine and viktoff)

[NurseMaxine]

Salina finished her shift as an LPN in a nursing home an hour late that night. She was sweaty and smelly having seen to the needs of 15 elderly people were her charges. The beloved elders of real families, that even though they loved them, didn't want to really care. It was too costly emotionally. Saline fed them, bathed them, treated their cuts and scratches, and yes sometimes changed their diapers. It was a thankless dirty job, but somehow, it helped her fill an empty space that nothing could really fill.

The girl had been a happy vivacious, outgoing life of the party. A cheerleader who dated a football player. She had been foolish enough to fall in love, but for Frank, a line backer she was just another conquest. So it was that Saline found herself pregnant at age 17. Frank was gone in an instant, and Saline was left with a swollen belly and a ruined reputation. All that, and ..... a child... Jonathon, a little boy who new nothing of how he was conceived. Saline had loved him more than herself and refused to do away with the inconvenience. She had suffered and hurt and bled, but finally, she hd her reward as a beautiful little boy was placed in her arms. She felt complete.

Unfortunately it was not to be and just hours later, Jonathon's tiny heart stopped, and Saine's heart that had melted for him turned to stone. It would be two years later after being drugged daily that doctors declared her cured and sent her home. She left the hospital but never went home. She had gone to a shelter and obtained her LPN training, and even found a job. But the emptiness remained.

She had no car and as she walked home, she passed by the old stone mansion with its iron gates and its deserted porch and the hickory swing. It was always empty, and when the wind blew it would creak as though callling out to her. But this night would be different. There in the dim light of a single bulb sat a man. He wasn't grey, but to her he seemed aged. Then there were his eyes . Hollow and distant they reminded her of what she saw every morning, at home in the mirror. She turned and walked on.

The next night she walked quickly hoping to see if he would be there again. He was. Why was she so drawn to him? such a slitary and lonely character. After a week, she could stand no more. She nervously opened the gate.

 

[Viktoff Samson]

Money doesn't solve every problem.

Born to wealth accumulated by his cutthroat number-crunching father and misfortune mother who never completed her highschool degree. The age disparity was one thing, their difference in social status and morality was entirely two larger issues as well. The pair fell apart immediately after conception. The boy, Cyrus, saw so little of the absent bastards he knew as 'Daddy' and 'Mommy'. At the ripe age of ten his father became aggravated and exploded, alerting Cyrus to the fact that his mother and her family accepted a cash sum to leave and never come back. Distraught, abandoned emotionally in full and with no other escape, Cyrus pulled himself together and forced his face through schooling.

As an intelligent and hard working oddity, Cyrus made friends even when he felt like he couldn't feel love. He worked his way deep into the list of mvp star contract workers for a massive chain company and he could finally leave his father in the dust. Almost as if he was doomed to be miserable, some psychiatrists say he is a sociopath and that he would never feel love. An inability to put himself in the shoes of his parents and understand why he didn't get a shred of quality tine with them, or forgive them is what led to that diagnosis.

And that wasn't even the reason he finally broke down and fired everyone, not that he wanted to spare another thought on that. Cold, alone, his whole body aching, Cyrus worked his way down the creaky wooden steps and out to the porch. His willingness to eat faded, but he had to bring at least a jug of water. Now that he could seat himself, he relaxed into a deep breath on the porch swing.

At times he was awake, and when he was, the ever approaching sweet embrace of death was his only comfort. That is, until he spots a woman he has never seen before. She was measurably beautiful, he even criticized himself for how superficial that thought was. But, before he really moved his eyes to get another look, she was gone. Sleep came along soon after, and it wouldn't last long. A powerful, torso rocking sneeze brought him back into the pain and intense fever. The day, the world moved on from that view point. Leaning against the mechanism that kept the swing up, his haunting eyes and the deep purple bags under them had kept their strained focus on the road.

Probably for no other reason short of that woman who walked by previously. What was it about her that was like a distant little match light a mile away from his snowstorm? It was the sound of the gate opening that had drawn his eyes. The woman was back, and for some reason, she was entering his property. Watching her move about on her path, he didn't vocally object to these actions.

 

[NurseMaxine]

The old hinges creaked with all the creepy suspense of a n old horror film. She wondered just who had opened them last and when. The screeched grated her nerves like nails on a blackboard, but not she was committed. though he hadn't moved or spoken, surely the man had noted her presence that is if he weren't..... she hesitated at the thought... dead. She really hoped not. It was something she saw regularly in her line of work, but it was never pleasant. And then there were his eyes fixed on her and racking her progress up the walk. No ... he wasn't dead. She breathed a sigh of relief. As she approached the three wooden steps leading up to the porch, she could see him a bit better in the light of the dim dirty bulb.

He wasn't so old really, in fact he seemed about her age, but my god! those eyes. They spoke of death desired. She had seen that look before. Usually just a week or two before a patient "went home" as the folks at the home euphamistically put it. But this man was far too young. How could he think like that. How could he be so resigned. She only wondered for a moment before she knew just how. It was the same with her. This man had lost something, or more likely someone dear, just as she had. His chest held a heart that though it beat was hard as stone, frozen by loss or grief or both.

As she stepped on the old wooden steps, they too creaked, complaining even against her miniscule weight. She said nothing, not knowing where to begin. Instead she just sat down at the oposite end of the swing and turned slightly to look his way. So far he hadn't objected, though he looked as though he was more than capable and probably willing to remove her physically. Finally she simply said, "Hello, I'm Salina." She did her best to smile. She hoped it would be enough for now.

 

[Viktoff Samson]

The chain attatched to the porch swing had left an apparent red mark along his forehead, it showed itself as he slowly moved to sit up and look at her. His neck and back protested, but he didn't make a whimper or complaint. The death-hopeful gaze of the male had remained on the woman as she came ever closer. Yet, he wouldn't ask her to stop or show any sign that she was crossing any line. He didn't look disapproving, just on the verge of the end. His nose would have a slight rose color as she got as she close as she did, the skin of his cheeks and nose and forehead would look softer than normal provided the way his face perspirated in the cold outside air like a glass of water. Energy faded from him, and yet his eyes remained open and continued sitting up without the swing chain's support.

When she sat beside him, Cyrus fought the urge to lay against her and let his eyes close. Light highlighted his seemingly flawless details, up too but not including the coloration around his nose that would symbolize the untreated illness that continued to plague him. The sound of her voice felt enchanting. A twist in his previously completely sour gut made his efforts to remain in control so dire. He couldn't tell if he didn't want her to leave immediately, or if he just needed to perish for good right now. "Are you, ugh..." His hollow voice trickled out of his mouth. Covering a cough, he held his head with his elbows on his knees. A much clearer voice now left him. "How is your night, Salina?"

 

[NurseMaxine]

She looked at the poor soul who she sat beside and though many would have been eager to pity him, she did not. Instead she understood. She could see that pain and grief had taken such a toll on him that he no longer cared whether he lived or died and that death was closer with every passing hour. Put simply there was nothing to hold him here. He wasn't clinging to life, he was waiting for death's comfort. Still she had looked death in the face with a patient before and this man didn't have the peace that was usually there when death was so near. Perhaps, she thought to herself, there was some small part of him that hoped life would show him the least reason to live, and so was waiting, and inbetween comatose bouts of sleep was watching. He certainly had been watching her.

"My night is tolerable. May I ask what it is you are looking for? You need to find it soon. Either that or you will need some help, or perhaps you will just fade away. As for me, I am looking for someone that will give me a reason to get up tomorrow, beyond the need to earn enough to feed myself. I once held pure joy in these arms not so long ago really but it seems it has been a century. " She stopped herself short, fearing that she was just jabbering. She heheld out her tiny hand, offering it to him in a trusting manner.

 

[Viktoff Samson]

Cyrus remembered a time that he wouldn't wait patiently as a woman he just met would look him over and analyzed him. A time where his cellphone blew up with the boundless texts from the store managers that needed his 'go-ahead' on plans and the like. And even now as he felt his whole body ache, his strength completely gone, seeing her offer him a hand would make him feel more alive than he could remember being as of late. Sitting up from his hands, he moved to take her smaller hand and to try to comfort it within his oddly cold hand. "Looking for something?" He shut his eyes to rest his head on her shoulder. His forehead was obviously heated beyonf a fever.

"I can't imagine fading. A way to just end this pain without hurting those who care." He finished the sentence, but a pause still occurred as though he didn't complete the thought. "You need something, Salina?" He asked slyly, somehow still managing to keep himself together through the torment of his ravaged heart and the severe health problem. "Maybe if I live past tonight I can be of use. Did you pat attention in any of your health classes? There is a key to the front door under the pot in front of us." After a tiny shake through his body as he covered a cough, he peacefully relaxed into her. "You move. Names Cyrus. Losing consciousness."

 

[NurseMaxine]

As the man who called himself Cyrus slowly collapsed against her shoulder Salina supported him gently as he began to drift off. Moving over she moved aside and lowered him to the swing seat and let his head rest in her lap. The man clearly needed a bath, but for now she didn't let that trouble her. She was acustomed to the smells that went with aging and desease. You could be a nurse and let them trouble you. For now the fact that he was breathing deeply and without a wheeze was enough. She carefully pushed the hir from his face and smoothed it back, doing her best to sooth him and give him dignity. The man was half skeleton and was obviously malnourished, and his face showed the creases that came from grimmacing with pain regularly. She let him rest in her lap the better part of an hour before deciding that she should take him inside, despite the concerns for her own saftey that were a possibility. Slipping slowly out from under him, she found the key and opened the door before returning to the swing to attempt to wake him. Slipping back onto the swing she gently patted his face and rubbed his bony shoulder.

 

[Viktoff Samson]

He was asleep, but only for a moment. Once he was shaken awake, Cyrus weakly stood. A few small grunts later he worked his way into the house and sat upon the nearest sofa. "I'm rooting for ya." He grumbled, slowly loosing himself all over again. The dream that haunted him was that of an open cage that he sat inside. Outside the cage was a giant with human hands, but the giant hands merely cleaned the cage. The door to said cage would remain open, and he remained untouched. It was so unusual, what an odd dream. He lay at the bottom of that cage with little to no life in him. Feathers surrounded him, but he was much like a doll and lacked any wings.

(Sorry. Not much to write up atm)

 

[NurseMaxine]

Salina stumbled arount in the dimly lit house looking for the kitchen. She found it and turned on the light . Things scurried into hiding and she was sure she did not want to know what they were. ooking around she found a pan and a sealed can of soup. That at least had a chance of being safe. Sw rinsed the pan and put it on the stove, and let the water boil to sterilize it, before opening the can and putting it on to boil. She found , and washed a large cup, and when the soup was ready, filled it and took it to him. "I want you to drink all of this. Thewhole thing! Do you hear me? " She spoke sternly but in a calm soft tone, wanting to insure his compliance.