Back to the main page

Mailing List Logs for ShadowRN

Message no. 1
From: "I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY...IT'S BETTER TO BURNOUT THEN TO FADE
Subject: Home...
Date: Wed, 10 Mar 93 02:34:23 CET
>>>>>[Hoi, Gambit! Howzit goin' girl? It's good to be back, outa that
damn political drek and stiff culture of Japan. I got off the semi-balistic
and some Shaikujin, who was obviously of a lower social standing, tried to
pick up on me! It took me a second to get back into things and insult
him into place. So how are things out here? Is the biz still good out here?
Well, I guess I'll log off to wait for your response. Excuse me if I'm
ramblimg on, three years of seperation is tough on a girl.]<<<<<
--Nemisis(03:45:35/03-09-54)

>>>>>[Well frag me runnin'! I thought that you were dead, Nem. After the
first few months went by and you hadn't returned I'd given up on my sister
ever returning home. We gotta get together soon, but tonight is out. I
got a watch-over run tonight. Unless you wanna come along? One word of
warning, though. There is another person using the street name Nemisis.
He is supposed to be a drek-hot assassin/mage who has an essence draining
spell. Since you haven't been here in three years you might concider
switching to a new alias and starting with a fresh rep'. Of course I haven't
seen this guy around and last I heard he was in the CAS. Your call.
But anyway, contact me at LTG# 2234-7986-0. Or meet me at Tam's Under the
Needle at noon on the 'marrow, So-Ka? Gawd, it's good to hear from you.
See you REAL soon.]<<<<<
--Gambit(07:34:05/03-09-54)

>>>>>[I think that I'll try to patch up my old contact network today and
stop by to see Yamoto Uzo. He'll have me chop off my pinky if I don't
see him as soon as possible. As for this other Nemisis, if he decides
to come a-callin' or if I get too many calls for him then I'll concider
changing my name.]<<<<<
--Nemisis(12:23:13/03-09-54)
Message no. 2
From: Frank Pelletier <jeanpell@****.IVIC.QC.CA>
Subject: Home
Date: Tue, 24 Mar 1998 17:27:56 +0000
*****Internal: Run Archive (Misc-244)
>>>>>[

Picket fences. It always makes you laugh when seen from outside. You
always get these impressions of quaint, quiet life, of almost still lakes
and backwater mentalities. Of home cooked meals and tranquil nights.

This fence reminds me of so much. Better days, happier times. I was
younger, carefree, innocent. That old red maple tree, its long arms still
shadowing a small, bricked path. We used to climb on top of that tree and
peep at Ms. Jameson when she took her shower next door. I used to go real
far on those branches, farther than the other kids. I had my first
fracture there, my wrist, when I fell. But I kept pushing. As always.
Always going farther. Farther than the others. I pushed myself.

The house. My house. Where I grew up. I remember those oak furnishings,
dark brown contrasting with the calm, smooth beige of the walls. The
stairway, just past the front door, leading to our rooms on the second
floor. The dining room, with my grandmother's silverware and the china
in a large glass cabinet. The white linen on the table, red flowers in the center.
The smell of lavender when I opened my parents room. The wooden floors, and
the small cracks in the wood just past the bathroom door. The picture of Jesus
next to the bay window, leading outside, out back. The porch, with the tons of
leaves that bunched up there during Autumn. The small ditch that split
our backyard with Mr. McGregor's. The way we played in that, we thought
we were invading the enemy. Mr. McGregor was always a grinch, we were
afraid of crossing that small line. We were kids, facing dangers without
flinching, fighting enemies that could not die, that could not bleed.
That was the way we played, with no fear. That was the way we lived.

Cath stands behind me. Blue lives here now. My older sister. She
practically raised me. When my parents divorced, we all moved in with my
mom, in Trenton. My dad stayed here. I was 8. After he moved away, he
gave the house to Blue, trying to make up for lost time, I guess.

Blue's strong. She was always the level-headed one. Even when I messed
up, she was there. Even when I left the house, or when she had to pick me up
when I got caught with the gang, she stood by me. When I came out of juvenile
hall... She was always there.

But I never gave anything back. Nothing. I took and took and took. Even
when mom passed away, she was strong. I ran away.

I feel a hand pushing me. Cath urges me forward, but stands there. He
won't help me. He can't help me. I have to do this myself. I step
forward, less assured. I'm not sure this is such a good idea after all.
Maybe I should go back to Seattle. I mean, Blue doesn't want to see my
face now. Maybe... It's been so... so long. I remember... It hits me.
Has it been? All that time. All those years, lost. It's been. Too
long.

I'm not turning back now. I don't care what she does, I want to see her.
I was... a young man when she last saw me. I was smaller, lighter. I was
a boy. I talked to her, but... It's been so long. I wonder what she
looks like now. That spark in her blue eyes. Those where my father's
eyes. Her long, deep brown hair. Her fair skin, almost white. That
little dimple on her cheeks when he smiled. The way she laughed, a small,
almost timid laughter, so gentle. That...

Jake still looks at me. I'm losing myself in thought. I can't fix what I
did. I can't change that. But I can mend old wounds. Deeply breathing,
I step towards the door. She must be... 32 now. How will she look? I
don't know. Will I even know?

I can hear a small bell ringing inside. Steps, coming down the stairway.
Loud on the old oaken boards. I can't wait. My stomach twists and turns,
almost breaking me in two. My hands keep barely in place, my lips
quivering gently. I can't believe. I won't.. I can't... not cry. But
tears, beyong my control, start welling up.

The lock turns. I can almost smell her. A small opening... growing
larger. The door slowly turns inward, all the smells of my childhood
rushing me, the sights filling my senses.

She's... She's just as she was. She hasn't changed a bit. She looks at
me... puzzled at first. But... her eyes open up... That sparkle's still
there. Her lips moving, her hands coming up, covering her mouth. They're
moving, but they're not saying anything. Silently. Tears flow down her
cheeks, her hands trembling over her mouth. I can't... Blue. My sister.

She drops into my arms, holding me so strong, her small figure pressed
against my chest. She's shaking, crying uncontrollably. I can't hear
what she's saying. I don't want to hear. My head drops, my lips kissing
her gentle forehead. I... I... can't. I will. Tears start to flow down
my eyes. I tremble, oblivious to the world. All those years.
I'm crying for those lost years. For the things I should have done. But
I'm also crying for the things I will do. For the steps I will make. I'm
so...

I don't know how long we've stayed this way. The sun casting its last
threads of light against the white house as we go in. Something I haven't
felt in.. ages. Something that's been missing from my life...I'm so...

Happiness.]<<<<<
-- Haze <17:18:23/03-24-59>

Further Reading

If you enjoyed reading about Home, you may also be interested in:

Disclaimer

These messages were posted a long time ago on a mailing list far, far away. The copyright to their contents probably lies with the original authors of the individual messages, but since they were published in an electronic forum that anyone could subscribe to, and the logs were available to subscribers and most likely non-subscribers as well, it's felt that re-publishing them here is a kind of public service.

Thwap!