Post by Lady Munin on Apr 8, 2016 5:31:59 GMT
THE DEPARTED
Shuffling down the aisle, Stevie Harris slides past a number of people. His sports bag being held up to avoid hitting people as he moves, he keeps an eye out for his row number, eventually reaching row 38. It’s a small plane so each row only seats six seats, three on either side. He’d requested an aisle upon making his booking but as 38B presented itself it was evident that this would be a nerve racking flight.
Earlier this week Stevie Harris pushed himself to his physical limits in a violent encounter in N’Orleans. That didn’t worry him.
Today Stevie Harris boards a flight from The Big Easy to Indianapolis and it has torn his stomach and soul into pieces.
But that’s the price you pay when you want to forward your cause. It’s not often you get a chance to take part in the grassroots of a start up with the eyes of the world on it and whilst he’d always followed his father’s advice given to him as a child, Stevie felt like it was necessary to change the rules. No more hiding from the public eye, his destiny was to make the world see him. See the real him.
“Excuse me ma’am” Stevie says, looking to the elderly lady in 38C, the aisle seat he felt he deserved. “You don’t suppose we could perhaps exchange seats.” The old lady looks him over. Well-dressed but not well groomed. His face is swollen and there’s a white bandage wrapped around his neck that has faint pink signs of spotting. “I’m off to my late grandmother’s funeral and flying happens to send my stomach into a twist.”
The old lady sighs but undoes her seatbelt. “I hope my grandkids have enough respect to show up to my funeral in the state you appear to be in.” She moves seats, grabbing her homemaker’s magazine from the back of the seat. Harris slides in, still clutching his bag. “I really appreciate it. If there’s anything I can do, do not hesitate to ask.”
They exchange pleasantries as the plane begins to fill. No one shows up to claim the empty window seat but they don’t seem to care as the conversation appears to turn from the standard opening remarks to stories about her grandkids. It’s all flowing easily from the old ladies tongue as the stewardesses begin to do the signal the exits and demo the air masks.
“What was your grandmother’s name?”
“Blair… Blair Kivistö before she married Grandpa Harris. Oh, she was real beauty back in the day. Still was until the day she passed. I’m just glad I have the time to see her off this weekend. We told her not to overdo it, urged caution but the old gal wouldn’t listen. May God rest Blair’s soul, she just wouldn’t listen.”
He pulls a hand up covering his eyes. The old lady places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “There, there son.”
Last Edit: Jan 26, 2016 at 5:33pm by Stevie H
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Stevie H
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Posts: 99
The Departed Jan 27, 2016 at 12:19am
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Post by Stevie H on Jan 27, 2016 at 12:19am
(OOC - A continuation of the above story)
Her name was Johanna, or Jo for short. She’d spent roughly 70 of her 74 years living in Indiana. Born and raised in Lafayette, Indiana, she moved to the Indianapolis at age 18 to work as a receptionist at a small accounting agency. She had fun like she’d never known before, free of the shackles that her parents and society had placed upon her, she simply enjoyed life. That was until she met John Stevenson, the man she would come to love and marry. She found a new lease of life with John, a type of fun that she could never have imagined possible as they fell in love hard and fast. She was 19 when they married, honeymoon down in New Orleans where John’s boss had a large lakeside property they could use.
There were hard times over the next 50 years. Kids getting in the way, mortgage weighing them down, family drama, all of it. But they never forgot how much they meant to each other. Even when they hated each other and John slept on the couch or Jo at her sisters, they knew it would be over soon and the love that bought them together would be always present.
The hardest day in Jo’s life came in 2011 with the passing of John. He’d tripped landed awkwardly, the doctor said blood vessels become fragile at an old age and can bust with ease. She spread his ashes at the lake house where they had their honeymoon and makes sure to visit every year on his death day.
Her heart tore a little the rough looking passenger on the plane said he was off to his grandmother’s funeral. The young man, Stevie, hadn’t thought a head to book a hotel so she invited him to stay with her.
“I sure wish you had a chance to meet Grandma Blair in this life, Mrs. Stevenson. I think you two would have caught on like a house on fire. It’s a real shame the way she passed. She’d been out too long, wasn’t thinking straight and in the end, she wasn’t prepared for the storm that came her way… Now you promise me that you’ll always think ahead before you leave the house. It’s not something we like to think about at any age but our inactions, the proud voice in our head that tells us that we can do it when we should be showing caution, that’s what gets us in the end. Those feelings of pride, they’re what put the noose around Grandma Blair’s neck and I don’t want that happening to you too.”
The cab pulls up out the front of Jo’s house. It’s quite large and cold looking. The driver offers to help with the bags but is quickly paid off by Stevie who leaps out unloads the luggage himself all with a cheerful grin.
Read more: officialpurepro.boards.net/thread/237/departed#ixzz45D5nDBjP
Shuffling down the aisle, Stevie Harris slides past a number of people. His sports bag being held up to avoid hitting people as he moves, he keeps an eye out for his row number, eventually reaching row 38. It’s a small plane so each row only seats six seats, three on either side. He’d requested an aisle upon making his booking but as 38B presented itself it was evident that this would be a nerve racking flight.
Earlier this week Stevie Harris pushed himself to his physical limits in a violent encounter in N’Orleans. That didn’t worry him.
Today Stevie Harris boards a flight from The Big Easy to Indianapolis and it has torn his stomach and soul into pieces.
But that’s the price you pay when you want to forward your cause. It’s not often you get a chance to take part in the grassroots of a start up with the eyes of the world on it and whilst he’d always followed his father’s advice given to him as a child, Stevie felt like it was necessary to change the rules. No more hiding from the public eye, his destiny was to make the world see him. See the real him.
“Excuse me ma’am” Stevie says, looking to the elderly lady in 38C, the aisle seat he felt he deserved. “You don’t suppose we could perhaps exchange seats.” The old lady looks him over. Well-dressed but not well groomed. His face is swollen and there’s a white bandage wrapped around his neck that has faint pink signs of spotting. “I’m off to my late grandmother’s funeral and flying happens to send my stomach into a twist.”
The old lady sighs but undoes her seatbelt. “I hope my grandkids have enough respect to show up to my funeral in the state you appear to be in.” She moves seats, grabbing her homemaker’s magazine from the back of the seat. Harris slides in, still clutching his bag. “I really appreciate it. If there’s anything I can do, do not hesitate to ask.”
They exchange pleasantries as the plane begins to fill. No one shows up to claim the empty window seat but they don’t seem to care as the conversation appears to turn from the standard opening remarks to stories about her grandkids. It’s all flowing easily from the old ladies tongue as the stewardesses begin to do the signal the exits and demo the air masks.
“What was your grandmother’s name?”
“Blair… Blair Kivistö before she married Grandpa Harris. Oh, she was real beauty back in the day. Still was until the day she passed. I’m just glad I have the time to see her off this weekend. We told her not to overdo it, urged caution but the old gal wouldn’t listen. May God rest Blair’s soul, she just wouldn’t listen.”
He pulls a hand up covering his eyes. The old lady places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “There, there son.”
Last Edit: Jan 26, 2016 at 5:33pm by Stevie H
#ImWithStevie
Stevie H
P.A.W. Camper
**
Stevie H Avatar
Posts: 99
The Departed Jan 27, 2016 at 12:19am
Quote Post Options
Post by Stevie H on Jan 27, 2016 at 12:19am
(OOC - A continuation of the above story)
Her name was Johanna, or Jo for short. She’d spent roughly 70 of her 74 years living in Indiana. Born and raised in Lafayette, Indiana, she moved to the Indianapolis at age 18 to work as a receptionist at a small accounting agency. She had fun like she’d never known before, free of the shackles that her parents and society had placed upon her, she simply enjoyed life. That was until she met John Stevenson, the man she would come to love and marry. She found a new lease of life with John, a type of fun that she could never have imagined possible as they fell in love hard and fast. She was 19 when they married, honeymoon down in New Orleans where John’s boss had a large lakeside property they could use.
There were hard times over the next 50 years. Kids getting in the way, mortgage weighing them down, family drama, all of it. But they never forgot how much they meant to each other. Even when they hated each other and John slept on the couch or Jo at her sisters, they knew it would be over soon and the love that bought them together would be always present.
The hardest day in Jo’s life came in 2011 with the passing of John. He’d tripped landed awkwardly, the doctor said blood vessels become fragile at an old age and can bust with ease. She spread his ashes at the lake house where they had their honeymoon and makes sure to visit every year on his death day.
Her heart tore a little the rough looking passenger on the plane said he was off to his grandmother’s funeral. The young man, Stevie, hadn’t thought a head to book a hotel so she invited him to stay with her.
“I sure wish you had a chance to meet Grandma Blair in this life, Mrs. Stevenson. I think you two would have caught on like a house on fire. It’s a real shame the way she passed. She’d been out too long, wasn’t thinking straight and in the end, she wasn’t prepared for the storm that came her way… Now you promise me that you’ll always think ahead before you leave the house. It’s not something we like to think about at any age but our inactions, the proud voice in our head that tells us that we can do it when we should be showing caution, that’s what gets us in the end. Those feelings of pride, they’re what put the noose around Grandma Blair’s neck and I don’t want that happening to you too.”
The cab pulls up out the front of Jo’s house. It’s quite large and cold looking. The driver offers to help with the bags but is quickly paid off by Stevie who leaps out unloads the luggage himself all with a cheerful grin.
Read more: officialpurepro.boards.net/thread/237/departed#ixzz45D5nDBjP