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Erit of Eastcris
Low-Rent Poet
- Joined
- Jan 10, 2014
- Location
- Elsweyr (California)
The steady pitter-patter of rain on the street below made an odd sort of ambiance with the radio quietly chattering on one side of the desk at which he sat, sorting through sheets of notes and stacks of books and occasionally turning to a computer screen for other sources. He'd just barely come up short on the exam, and he was determined not to fail a second time... God only knew how his parents would take it though. As the talk show between songs went on he barely listened, knowing already that the news would be about the riots on the other side of the country. Whole world's going to hell... he thought quietly to himself, leaning back and rubbing his temples as his concentration faltered. He needed a break. Or more coffee. But preferably both. So the man stood up to his full six foot height and on bare feet padded his way out to the kitchen to start brewing another batch of what his father called "morning juice". Well, adoptive father; Anthony was very clearly not his parent by blood, as Shandra was not his mother and Derek wasn't his older brother. But they were his family, all the same; he was the youngest of the Hamfords, oddly named "Tyrus" by the card left with him on the doorstep of the inner-city apartment they had lived in for a little over twenty years.
As Tyrus Hamford stood waiting for his coffee to finish filtering through, however, his phone rang; his mother. He barely had time to get out the obligatory "hello?" before she started carrying on as she was wont to do, saying how proud she was of her baby boy, of her Tyrus the lawyer and how far he was going to get in life and how happy she and daddy were for him to be making his way up in the world. He wished, just a little, that he could be struck by lightning rather than need to break her the news.
"Ma. Ma! I'm not a lawyer yet... I failed the bar exam..." He scrubbed a hand through his hair and looked down as his feet, as he usually did when he was anxious. "By three points, but I still failed it... I'm sorry ma, but—"
"Now now, you hush your mouth honey. You can always take it agin, can't you?"
"Yeah, but not unti—"
"Then you can jus' keep takin' it until you pass, Tyrus. You're a lawyer in everything but name, and your daddy and I are so proud of you fo' it. Has Jeanne called you yet? She tol' me she'd be talkin' to you today."
"No ma, she hasn't yet. It's only seven in the morning, she probably won't even be awake for another hour..."
"Well, I'll leave you to yo' studyin'. You'll knock that test on its ass next time, Ty, I jus' know you will."
"... Yeah. Thanks, ma."
The dull click signifying the end of the call was met with a sigh, an expression of mixed relief and despair. He'd need to break the news to his fiancee, as well, at this rate...
"Jeanne deserves to hear it in person, though." He said to himself, pouring his mug of coffee and mixing in the cream and sugar before leaning back against the kitchen counter and sipping while his mind spun and turned. He'd proposed to her just a month ago after he'd come home from law school, and now it was looking like their plans would need to be put on hold for a little while until he could pass the exam and properly start his career. She deserved to hear it in person. And she would, he decided.
He changed out of his pajamas and slid on his old, worn-down tennis shoes—the same ones he'd been wearing when they'd met, and when he'd proposed. He locked the door to his small one-bedroom apartment behind him and went down the six flights of stairs between home and the ground floor, popping open his umbrella as he passed through the doors onto the street and shivering slightly in the gentle rain and brisk winter chill. It had been raining in some capacity for the past week, the season seemingly clinging to life, digging in its heels and gnashing its teeth in defiance.
The trip from his apartment to Jeanne's wasn't that long a trip—twenty to thirty minutes depending on traffic—but over the course of it the weather became increasingly inhospitable, the rainfall going from a gentle shower and gradually ratcheting up to full sheets of water pouring down in waves, wind ripping at the edge of his umbrella and his sweater. The streets quickly emptied out as people fled indoors to avoid the storm, and the distant sound of thunder rolled through the air from far outside the city limits in promise of a very long day, nearly drowning out the chirping of the crosswalks that were meant to signal the visually impaired on when to go. It certainly obscured the traffic lights, and made it difficult to make out the headlights of the truck that came hydroplaning down the street.
He heard it honking though, and when Tyrus looked up to see it careening straight towards him without any way of stopping he saw, quite clearly, the look of panic in the eyes of the driver. He imagined his own were full of confusion more than anything else; confusion as to what was happening, then as to why. Why him, he might have wondered, why now? But he never made it to that stage; he saw, rather than felt, the grille of the engine make contact with his side. And then, he saw nothing. Heard, felt, smelled, tasted, sensed... nothing.
Briefly he wondered if he was dead, if this vast dearth of outward awareness was what awaited at the end of everything, if he should have taken up religion after all. Only briefly. Then... things began to come back; the strange, clean smell of unpolluted air in the middle of spring. The taste of the season on his lips, the feel of all-natural grass rather than astroturfing. Things he had never known being born and raised in the city. The sound of a calm breeze whistling over the earth tickled his ears, then a feminine sigh and a sound like someone slumping over in exhausted consternation. He couldn't seem to bring himself to speak, and only barely cracked open his eyes, groaning slightly at the stiffness that overtook him as though he'd just had the most enjoyable sleep and didn't want to get out of bed yet.
The vague outline of a face, blurred and distorted, greeted him, and all at once his body came crashing back into working order, jerking him upright with a yelp of surprise as he turned to face this unknown. "Wh-wh-wha..." He blinked , squeezing his iron-hued eyes to try and force them back into focus. When he opened them, it was to a much clearer, and far more bizarre, scene; a woman, behind her an expanse of grassland with gently rolling hills, and at the far end stood a castle braced against a bluff overhanging the sea. "I..." And again he blinked, holding up a fair-skinned hand in a piteous attempt to ward off whatever would soon befall him, "I don't know what you want, but I know I don't have any of it!"
As Tyrus Hamford stood waiting for his coffee to finish filtering through, however, his phone rang; his mother. He barely had time to get out the obligatory "hello?" before she started carrying on as she was wont to do, saying how proud she was of her baby boy, of her Tyrus the lawyer and how far he was going to get in life and how happy she and daddy were for him to be making his way up in the world. He wished, just a little, that he could be struck by lightning rather than need to break her the news.
"Ma. Ma! I'm not a lawyer yet... I failed the bar exam..." He scrubbed a hand through his hair and looked down as his feet, as he usually did when he was anxious. "By three points, but I still failed it... I'm sorry ma, but—"
"Now now, you hush your mouth honey. You can always take it agin, can't you?"
"Yeah, but not unti—"
"Then you can jus' keep takin' it until you pass, Tyrus. You're a lawyer in everything but name, and your daddy and I are so proud of you fo' it. Has Jeanne called you yet? She tol' me she'd be talkin' to you today."
"No ma, she hasn't yet. It's only seven in the morning, she probably won't even be awake for another hour..."
"Well, I'll leave you to yo' studyin'. You'll knock that test on its ass next time, Ty, I jus' know you will."
"... Yeah. Thanks, ma."
The dull click signifying the end of the call was met with a sigh, an expression of mixed relief and despair. He'd need to break the news to his fiancee, as well, at this rate...
"Jeanne deserves to hear it in person, though." He said to himself, pouring his mug of coffee and mixing in the cream and sugar before leaning back against the kitchen counter and sipping while his mind spun and turned. He'd proposed to her just a month ago after he'd come home from law school, and now it was looking like their plans would need to be put on hold for a little while until he could pass the exam and properly start his career. She deserved to hear it in person. And she would, he decided.
He changed out of his pajamas and slid on his old, worn-down tennis shoes—the same ones he'd been wearing when they'd met, and when he'd proposed. He locked the door to his small one-bedroom apartment behind him and went down the six flights of stairs between home and the ground floor, popping open his umbrella as he passed through the doors onto the street and shivering slightly in the gentle rain and brisk winter chill. It had been raining in some capacity for the past week, the season seemingly clinging to life, digging in its heels and gnashing its teeth in defiance.
The trip from his apartment to Jeanne's wasn't that long a trip—twenty to thirty minutes depending on traffic—but over the course of it the weather became increasingly inhospitable, the rainfall going from a gentle shower and gradually ratcheting up to full sheets of water pouring down in waves, wind ripping at the edge of his umbrella and his sweater. The streets quickly emptied out as people fled indoors to avoid the storm, and the distant sound of thunder rolled through the air from far outside the city limits in promise of a very long day, nearly drowning out the chirping of the crosswalks that were meant to signal the visually impaired on when to go. It certainly obscured the traffic lights, and made it difficult to make out the headlights of the truck that came hydroplaning down the street.
He heard it honking though, and when Tyrus looked up to see it careening straight towards him without any way of stopping he saw, quite clearly, the look of panic in the eyes of the driver. He imagined his own were full of confusion more than anything else; confusion as to what was happening, then as to why. Why him, he might have wondered, why now? But he never made it to that stage; he saw, rather than felt, the grille of the engine make contact with his side. And then, he saw nothing. Heard, felt, smelled, tasted, sensed... nothing.
Briefly he wondered if he was dead, if this vast dearth of outward awareness was what awaited at the end of everything, if he should have taken up religion after all. Only briefly. Then... things began to come back; the strange, clean smell of unpolluted air in the middle of spring. The taste of the season on his lips, the feel of all-natural grass rather than astroturfing. Things he had never known being born and raised in the city. The sound of a calm breeze whistling over the earth tickled his ears, then a feminine sigh and a sound like someone slumping over in exhausted consternation. He couldn't seem to bring himself to speak, and only barely cracked open his eyes, groaning slightly at the stiffness that overtook him as though he'd just had the most enjoyable sleep and didn't want to get out of bed yet.
The vague outline of a face, blurred and distorted, greeted him, and all at once his body came crashing back into working order, jerking him upright with a yelp of surprise as he turned to face this unknown. "Wh-wh-wha..." He blinked , squeezing his iron-hued eyes to try and force them back into focus. When he opened them, it was to a much clearer, and far more bizarre, scene; a woman, behind her an expanse of grassland with gently rolling hills, and at the far end stood a castle braced against a bluff overhanging the sea. "I..." And again he blinked, holding up a fair-skinned hand in a piteous attempt to ward off whatever would soon befall him, "I don't know what you want, but I know I don't have any of it!"