May 24th, 2002

Adrasteius: Really?  Really.


U-um-mm.. writing tomorrow... scenes in brain, but too tired to write them.
Er... if there's anyone who wants to add me as a friend but doesn't know if I'll add'em back, go ahead and add me... I always try to add people who add me, but I have some kind of phobia usually with adding people first... so if you share my phobia I'll just let everybody reading know that if you want to add me go right ahead and I shall add you back. n_n My friends-only entries are mostly just emotional waste anyway. Really I just think the friends pages are a good way to keep track o people without visiting a lot of individual journals..

kay, I'm gonna sleep now..
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Adrasteius: Really?  Really.

the further adventures of sarah & steve

"Let's think for a moment," Sarah said, as Stephen continued to gape at the spike-filled pit, his eyes boggling as he imagined what it would have been like, had he fallen along with the chair and impaled himself and splintered apart just like it but with more blood and Oh God--

Sarah slapped him.

He fell backwards, clutching his cheek, even though it had been a rather light, girly slap.

"I said," Sarah began again, looking sternly at Stephen, who was inching away from both her and the tile shaped hole in the floor, "let's think for a moment."

"About what?" he breathed, pulling himself into a sitting position.

"About how we got here," she said, as though this were obvious.

"Well, if we knew that, we'd be able to get out, wouldn't we?" he answered irritably.

"What were you doing this morning?" Sarah asked.

"Waking up?" he said belligerently.

"Come on," she said, mildly frustrated. He stood up, leaned against one of the walls, and began to think, begrudgingly, about the events that had preceded his arrival into this room. He had, of course, woken up--showered, had a bit of a bagel with cream cheese, watched a little Good Morning, America. He was a police officer, hence the gun, and he realized suddenly that he ought to
have been wearing his uniform. Stephen was in his mid-twenties, but had already been on the force for several years, as both his mother and father were officers as well. He didn't mind joining the family business, especially since his parents had never pressured him into it.

"I was on duty," he said out loud, and Sarah's head raised with interest.

"You're an officer?"

He nodded slowly.

"Well, that explains the gun, doesn't it? Where's your outfit?"

"Good question," Stephen murmured, tugging at the clingy white T-shirt and jeans he was currently dressed in. While he was sure he had others like them at his apartment, he was fairly certain that this particular clothing set was not his. He felt a red warmth creep cross his cheeks as he wondered who could have redressed him. The amused expression on Sarah's face told him that she was wondering the same thing.

"Shut up," he said gruffly.

"I didn't say anything," Sarah answered, sing-song.

"You're thinking it, though," he said, and glowered. Her smile deepened.

"So, you were on duty. Then what? Where were you?"

Relieved by the change of subject, he answered,

"Well, I was in the city, just patrolling, you know...and I passed by this alley, and I thought it was a little strange because it was in the middle of the day and this alley was completely dark. So I pulled over and went to have a look, and I all can remember after that is this harsh, hissing sound, like you hear when steam pressure is being released... like a tea kettle or something."
  • Current Music
    The Police--Don't Stand So Close to Me
Adrasteius: Really?  Really.

now that we're caught up

"How odd," Sarah said.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Stephen grumbled. "What about you, huh? What's your job? What were you doing?"

"Oh, I'm a librarian..." Sarah said. "The last I recall, I was shelving books. I dropped one, knelt to retrieve it, and everything was black before I stood up again. Don't remember a kettle noise."

"Hey, at least getting attacked in a dark alley makes some kind of sense. Who kidnaps people from out of a library?"

She shrugged. "I'm just answering the question."

Stephen paced the floor in aggravation. Great lot of good that had done. "Are we just supposed to wait?"


He had an urge to start shooting the walls. Sarah was feeling the walls again, as though an unseen way out had appeared while they were dealing with the spike pit. After several minutes of this futile exercise, she stopped with a sigh.

Then her face took on a peculiar expression, a look that Stephen recognized as the kind that a person got when an idea that was foolish, idiotic, and probably not going to work had presented itself in her mind.

She focused her meager penlight on the wall, which was simply cinderblock hidden in shadow by the poor lighting. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her, thinking confidently that whatever she was doing was just as vain as searching for a hidden switch.

"Right. Stephen, come here and look at this."

He walked up next to her and said petulantly, "I don't see anything."

"Are you always this uncooperative?" she said. "See, there's an outline, like a door..."

She moved the light up and down the wall, and indeed, a deep indention like the shadow of a door cut through the cinderblocks. The penlight swept across, and the block outlines disappeared until the light hit the edge of the door shadow.

"You know what," Stephen said slowly, "I'm on drugs. This is a hallucination. Someone thought he was funny and put crack in my lunch while I was in the bathroom, and now I am hallucinating."

Sarah ignored him and knocked politely on the wall.

It swung open, revealing a darkened passage. She grinned at him.

"Wait--" he said, as she started walking inside, "You don't know what's in there!"

"Oh, it's all right," she said. "After all, if I'm just part of your hallucination, then I can't die, right?"

He grumbled and trudged after her. "I'm not sure, but I think I don't like you."