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Chapter 4: The Day It All Blew Up

Posted by julie20201 on August 31, 2010

ITEM 13: Jillian’s second post-kidnapping journal entry

Item Source: Jillian Blairington

Kids don’t get to control much, and in that way, I ain’t much different than any kid. On the other side of the toast, not many kids get to say they was kidnapped by a couple of complete strangers and lived to scream another day. I wasn’t alone that day, nor on the long twenty-one days afterward. Danielle Matheson, my babysitter, was there the whole time. I think it was probably scarier for her than me though ’cause people kept threatening to hurt her.

If someone ever prints this for the public, Dr. S. says we gotta change all the names ’cause we don’t wanna go messing up other people’s lives none, even if they more than deserve it like Daddy Three. I don’t gotta worry about that now though ’cause this is just for me. I kinda wish this dumb typing program would quit trying to correct the way I spell things. It’s my story; I’ll tell it how I wanna. In any case, I can’t remember what all Dr. S. said about writing this, but she was real eloquent—that means her words were real pretty. I almost cried. I do that a lot around her.

Danielle is the type Nana would call a “real sweet, straight-laced lass.” It goes without saying that she’s older than me. She’s real smart in a lot of ways and real dumb in others. I ain’t saying that to be mean or nothing, just stating facts. She works hard, too, both at school and at the pharmacy next to my New Daddy’s candy shop. That’s how my New Daddy met her.

When we was living in Georgia, I didn’t need a babysitter ’cause Nana was always there if Momma needed to have a night out. But now that we’ve moved and Momma’s in the family way, she and my New Daddy have been going out real regular-like so as to pack in the fun while they’re still somewhat free. Babies mean work even before they get here.

Danielle had been my babysitter for at least a month or two before the horrible day. I remember it was a Saturday in May ’cause Momma and my New Daddy had gone to walk the boardwalk by the beach at Point Pleasant. What a weird name. Doubt Momma and my New Daddy will go there again for a while ’cause they got some not-so-pleasant memories of the day.

The sun was showing his cheerful face most of the time that day, so I got banned from using the computer until night. I couldn’t show Danielle the new game I’d gotten for my birthday, but I was fine with that. I like being outside. There’s a small creek in back of our new house. It ain’t got nothing on the stream in back of our old place, but it’s still pretty to watch and interesting to dig in. All streams have lots of critters in ’em. Danielle don’t care all that much for critters, but she did identify a few for me. We found several types of earthworms. Some were too skinny for fishing lures and even the decent ones were a bit thin. It’s just as well. Danielle don’t cotton much to fishing, and there ain’t nothing to catch in that tiny little creek anyway.

“Let’s go in and eat something,” Danielle said, eyeing some dark clouds in the distance.

I didn’t really wanna go in, but I could see she’d had enough of fresh air. She was shivering ’cause the wind was picking up and she only wore a light, long-sleeved t-shirt. Although the day was pretty warm to my tastes, like it was supposed to be that early in May, we’d recently had a cold spell, and the weather people had been predicting a storm or two. Big, fat clouds kept covering the sun, which made the temperature drop right quick. Guess I took pity on Danielle ’cause I didn’t pitch a fuss like I wanted to. We’d only been out there an hour, and I like being caught in the rain.

“I’ll race you,” Danielle offered, trying to cheer me.

“I don’t race if I can’t win,” I replied.

She made a little face like what a strange thing to say.

We began to walk back up to the house.

“Why don’t you think you could win?” she asked a few moments later.

“I would win,” I corrected, “but only ’cause you’d let me and that ain’t fair to neither of us.”

Danielle looked a bit surprised and guilty.

“You’re on the track team, ain’t ya? And anyways, your legs are a whole heap longer than mine,” I explained, though I knew she could work all that out for herself. I waved a hand at her long-sleeved T-shirt which said “Go Tigers.”

“You’re very observant,” Danielle noted in a very neutral tone that said she was a little annoyed that I didn’t think like a normal twelve-year-old.

“Nana says it’s a blessed curse,” I said as we climbed the back steps to the deck that would lead back into the kitchen.

Danielle smiled and opened the back door for me.

I was just gonna dive into the pantry to see what I wanted for lunch when Danielle’s firm hands on my shoulders steered the way to the sink. I sighed. Grownups, even almost grownups, are all the same; always making a body wash. It ain’t no use arguing with people bent on making ya wash up, so I didn’t bother. I learned that lesson well enough with Nana. Nana didn’t mind if I made mud pies or worked on my Worm Paradise, but she wouldn’t let me anywhere near the kitchen until I done washed my hands twice through “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” I hummed the song as I washed even though I don’t have to nomore since Nana ain’t here to give the Evil Eye if I cheat.

By the time I’d finished washing up, Danielle was making toasted cheese. I smiled ’cause that’s probably what I woulda asked for anyway. I’m a bit of a critter of habit that way.

“Why don’t you go change while I finish making this? Then we can eat and continue our game of Monopoly.”

We’d been playing on and off for almost a week, since Danielle comes everyday after school while Momma makes dinner and does house stuff like painting the baby’s room. I can’t say I was all that eager to jump back into the game though. Danielle kinda controlled a huge chunk of the board, hotels and all. Nearly every roll woulda had me leaking money like a holey bucket leaks water. Anyways, they ain’t gonna find out if it’s a boy or a girl, so they’re painting the room a light green that neither type could make a fuss at. My Momma and Old Daddy thought they was gonna find out what I was, but the doctor said I’d be a boy, so my old room was blue. I didn’t mind, but I can see why my Momma and my New Daddy are just gonna take what the Good Lord gives.

I nodded, just as a rumble of thunder made the sound of mighty hungry heavens. I looked longingly outside.

“Go on,” Danielle said. “We can watch the storm while we eat. There’s a better view from the playroom.”

I told ya Danielle’s real smart in some ways. She outright tricked me into a good mood. She knew Momma wouldn’t have liked me to go running through the storm, dodging lightning and such, but she also knew that eating in the playroom is highly frowned upon. She was willing to encourage that lesser form of rebellion to prevent me from having my way with the storm. Besides, it’d probably be easier to clean up the playroom than hide soaking wet clothes.

We didn’t get to do either of those things. By the time I’d finished changing, the storm was full into its fit, throwing down rain like it was mad at the trees. Lightning sizzled through the sky and thunder went from rumbles to harsh-sounding cracks that made the whole house shake.

The front door banged open, just as we sat down to enjoy the toasted cheese. I could tell the two sandwiches apart ’cause Danielle made hers with tomato in it. I like tomatoes well enough but not on toasted cheese. Tomatoes get too hot and end up burning my lips ’cause they’re hard to cut with teeth. Anyways, at first I thought the wind had opened the door. I forgot we was in a new house and the doors just don’t willy-nilly open like they do on older houses like the one in Georgia.

Danielle had picked up her sandwich but not gotten to take a bite yet. Her head whipped toward the door, nearly crashing with mine ’cause it was doing the same thing. Two soaking wet men squished their way into the front hall.

A lot of things happened at once. Danielle let out a surprised sort of yelp, dropped her sandwich, and stood up so fast her stool fell over. I took a long one-second look at the two men and thought they was trouble. Danielle seized my arm and yanked me behind her. It must be some motherly instinct like Momma’s air seatbelt whenever she’s gotta stop somewhat swiftly.

A half-groan, half-whine slipped out of Danielle as she muttered questions like “What do you want?” and “Who are you?”

My brain was firing those questions as well, but I couldn’t get ’em out ’cause Danielle had backed us into the corner by the stove. I kinda had to concentrate on breathing. Danielle grabbed the hot frying pan by the handle. She yelped again, and this time it had a note of pain in it, so I guess the pan was still hot. It said something of her sheer stubbornness that she didn’t drop the thing outright.

The second man laughed at that, but he didn’t get to laugh for long ’cause he slipped on water from the first man’s sneakers. He said one of the bad words.

About this time, Danielle and I kinda came to the same conclusion. She abandoned the frying pan, giving it a small toss toward the first man, and lunged for the screen door leading from the kitchen to the back deck that leads down to the yard.

“Run!” Danielle ordered, fumbling with the lock and shoving the door open.

She didn’t have to tell me twice. I slipped past her and bolted down the stairs. Rain soaked me instantly. I was amazed at how dark it had gotten, though it couldn’t have been past two o’clock. A scream stopped me. A huge crack of thunder shook the ground beneath me, but my feet seemed frozen in place. Dread and cold made me shiver. I stood with my feet planted firmly at the bottom of the steps, unwilling to turn and unable to continue.

“Get back up here!” the first man roared. His voice, for all its bluster, sounded distant to me. He didn’t exactly sound like the friendly sort you’d want to rush to for a hug.

“Ow! Run!”

This time Danielle’s voice failed to unstick my feet. Then, I couldn’t hear anything, but I knew a struggle was going on above me. I turned and placed one foot on the stairs to climb to the deck again. Looking up, I saw two figures emerge from my house onto the deck, one clearly in control over the other. I think if I’d had a full bladder, I woulda peed my pants right then and there. Not that it woulda made much of a difference given the rain trying to make the whole world a swimming pool around me.

The first man had forced Danielle to her knees. He was speaking, but I couldn’t hear anything he said. I don’t think he was even talking to me.

My hearing returned and the sound of rain filled my senses. Everything smelled earthy and fresh. A flash of lightning emphasized a picture I’ll probably always carry on my brain. Danielle gazed up toward the heavens, eyes shut as if praying, with tears streaming down her face. Through all the rain, it’s a wonder I recognized the tears, but I could tell they were there.

The second man joined the two figures on the deck. He had his arm extended toward me. I couldn’t see the gun he held until a flash of lightning made everything bright for one horrid second. My only chance to run disappeared. My stomach hurt, twisting itself about inside me. No one could miss at that range, and he didn’t.

Posted in Just for Fun, Writing | Leave a Comment »

Star Wars Fanfiction: Olianna Keeoli, Jedi

Posted by julie20201 on August 27, 2010

“May I please speak with Dee-four?” I inquired sweetly of the protocol droid stationed there to intercept people just like me making requests just like mine.

C-111, affectionately known as Tri-ace, eyed me with mild irritation. Anyone who says protocol droids can’t show emotion is blind as a baby mole rat. They have ways. “I am sorry, Mistress Keeoli, but that unit is currently unavailable. Can I be of service in some other capacity?”

“That’s all right, Tri-ace. I can wait,” I replied, feigning ease. I can wait five minutes, I thought casually slipping my hands into tunic pockets to activate my datapad.

“My courtesy programming prompts me to inform you that it could be quite a long time, Mistress Keeoli. The unit in question is undergoing extensive maintenance,” Tri-ace explained in his prissy voice some idiot tech head probably thought cultured.

Liar. That droid would sooner brave Coruscant’s nightlife. I gave Tri-ace a curt message-received nod and stepped away from his desk. The five minutes it took my mini-memory glitch to take in Tri-ace’s processors were not the longest in my life, but they came close. It allowed me just enough time to stir up a nice emotional soup in me.

There is no emotion, there is peace. The Code came to mind easily. And pieces of this dumb droid if my code doesn’t work, I added. That came from the other side of me. I couldn’t help it. The Force in all its black humor touched a Kuati noblewoman’s cute little whoops, and the Jedi Council gave the noblewoman’s family a convenient, ethical way to remove the mistake. Too bad for me, the Force decided I needed eidetic memory and attunement with others’ emotions instead of something useful like strong psychokinesis and crazy-good reflexes.

My mind slipped into self-pity mode. Seriously, what being doesn’t want to remember exactly how long one has to wail before a servant attends to the duty of disposing of your diaper droppings? That knowledge will certainly save you from a field full of blaster bolts. We’re only in the throes of a little galactic hiccup called The Clone Wars, which by the way is mostly against droids. There goes my big advantage.

When my datapad vibrated to let me know the memory glitch would take place in five second, I pulled free of my thoughts with a tiny leap and a yelp.

“Are you quite all—hmm. What was I saying?” asked Tri-ace.

“Thanks. I’ll just be a moment,” I said, striding past with barely a glance.

I found Dee-four exactly where I expected him to be, hiding in the storage closet. He beeped and tootled at me.

“Don’t give me that, you overgrown multitool,” I snapped. “Use the voice simulator I gave you, and for circuits’ sake, speak basic!”

“Hello, friend Olianna,” Dee-four said, cheerfully complying.

“I had a lousy two and a half weeks, Dee-four. Do you know why?” I narrowed my eyes and glared down at the ungainly piece of cowering droid set before me.

“Sorry to hear ill news, friend Olianna. How may I be of service?”

“You recently did a short stint up with Master Khaner, did you not?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

Dee-four emitted a plaintive beep and slid back the meter until his back wheel hit the wall. “I did.” He sounded apologetic.

I promptly closed the distance between us and pointed a finger between Dee-four’s photoreceptors. “As soon as I leave here, you haul your metal behind down to maintenance and get that glitch fixed by one of the masters.” The anger in my tone was partially directed inward. I’m pretty good with droid tinkering. Nothing like the Chosen One or anything, but I know a fair bit.

Three months ago, I pulled polish duty again. Near the end, Dee-four admitted a calculation error in his programming that could alter his performance and his fear of a memory wipe if he went to maintenance. So, playing the part of kind fool, I offered to fix it. My patch changed the probability of a mistake from .00000012% to 1.2 x 10-12 %, quite an improvement if I do say so myself. How was I to know Master Khaner’s regular assistant would have a meltdown and need a quick replacement? Or that Master Kenobi would actually be in the Temple resting from some hush-hush mishap with a bomb then off gallivanting on another secret mission that never happened?

“Yes, Mistress Keeoli,” Dee-four said with enough enthusiasm to make me suspicious.

“I mean it. You, maintenance, now,” I ordered, re-crossing my arms.

Dee-four whined and buzzed pitifully. “There will be dark memory,” he lamented.

“I listened to that sob story once and got shot for it,” I said without sympathy. “Thanks for that.”

Dee-four gave off a little eep of surprise. “What has transpired, Mistress Keeoli?”

“Search back into your precious memory banks and look very carefully at the orders you issued in Master Khaner’s name,” I instructed, speaking slowly so my passion couldn’t rise to damage-something status. There is no passion, there is serenity. There will be serenity after I vent.

The droids photoreceptors darkened slightly and the hum in his head increased a trifle. “Oh, oh dear,” said Dee-four after a moment.

“Do you see the problem?” I asked.

“Yes, indeed, Mistress Olianna, and I can assure you the probability of this—”

“Not good enough,” I interrupted. “The probability was infinitesimal the first time and look what happened.”

“It is easy enough to avoid repeating,” the droid said with a pleading note.

“It should have been easy enough to avoid in the first place,” I shot back, feeling my anger rising. I slipped a hand into my other pocket and activated the make-shift personal sound damper. “I am twelve-year-old, pre-puberty Olianna Keeoli, Jedi Youngling. Does that look anything like old-enough-to-sport-a-beard Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master?”

“Well—”

“No!” I answered before he could give me the breakdown of every similarity between the two names. “Did you even bother to look at the profiles? Did you not see some intriguing differences? Gender? Height? Age? Mission history?” Each question got slightly louder than the last.

“My programming would like to remind you that your vocal emissions are rising above civil levels for a work environment,” said Dee-four. Apparently, my message wasn’t sinking in.

Taking my purloined training saber out of my voluminous left pocket, I lit it in front of Dee-four’s photoreceptors. “Listen, Dee-four, I like you, which is why I’m here in person telling you to get your head checked. If you won’t listen to reason, I will be forced to short your circuits in ways that might be irreparable.”

Dee-four shook his metal dome in protest.

“That might sound harsh, but I just spent a week on some Force-forsaken spit of a world getting shot at, captured, rescued, shot, and very, very dirty!” I winced. Trust the Kuati snot buried in me to come out now. I shut down the training saber so I wouldn’t accidentally fry his circuits before he made a decision. Straightening in an effort to feign serenity, I said, “It wasn’t all that bad. Sort of like a game really. You know, if you show me your advanced scouts, I’ll show you mine. If you shoot at mine, I’ll shoot at yours.” I knew I was babbling now, so I poked Dee-four in his metal equivalent of a chest. Oddly, my irritation faded to almost nothing. The more I thought about the mission, the more I had to admit it was kind of all right. “If it happens again, just try to pick a world with less insect life.”

Posted in Just for Fun, Writing | Leave a Comment »

 
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