sister, do you know my name? * part one
Jan. 16th, 2004 07:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
radiantbabyhere is my new story. be gentle with me as i am still fighting the throes of writer's block.
x-posted a bit
TITLE: Sister, Do You Know My Name? (working title)
GENRE: Romance, Angst
KEY MEMBER(S): Jack White (narrative)
SYNOPSIS: Just your typical Mary-Sue fare, I suppose. A jaded Jack has a crush on a mysterious woman who is new in town, watch as he tries to unravel her mystery.
RATING: PG-13
ARCHIVING: Yes, please. I'll put it up on the fanfic site when I get the chance, any one else who wants it, just ask.
FEEDBACK: Pretty please *bats eyes*
MISC: Jack is the narrative voice on this one, just so you don't get confused.
*
[1]
Sister, Do You Know My Name? [working title]
I'd seen her around a few times by then, each time further sparking me to want to unravel her mystery. It seemed as if during those heady days I knew nearly everyone's story in relation to me -- from prologues of gushing fandom or cool indifference toward me to endings far from fairy-tales often tinged with screaming or disenchantment. So many people were positioning themselves around me, wearing their agendas on their sleeves like badges of honor. This girl, though, she always seemed just on the periphery of such things -- around places I frequented enough to get noticed, yet never once making the now-inevitable approach of myself (for autographs, praise, "to get to know me," etc.).
Yes, she interested me. I hesitate to say even that it might not only have been the seeming challenge of her that drew me in the first place, but perhaps more-so the sharp gaze of her big, brilliant blue eyes that seemed to almost sparkle when she surveyed the room around her, usually just merely sipping on a drink, and her exotic raven black hair, cut somewhat short and spiked.
She was so stunning, yet so unaware.
Sometimes I would find myself wondering how many of the other men around her harbored such feelings as I did and, conversely how she was probably completely oblivious to all our quiet pining.
Swank said I should just talk to her. I think he was getting tired of my schoolboy-esque musings after each night I saw her, tired of me trying to find out anything - anything at all - about her. Secretly, though, I think he was just as curious. I know him far too well. As for approaching her, part of me wanted to take his advice, yet part of me was terribly worried that she would just brush me right off her sleeve with my feeble attempt, breaking my heart. Of course, compounding the issue as well, I had seen her there on The Night a few weeks before. The Night was where I was involved in an altercation with an old acquaintance Jason. It was a messy scene and then the talk of the town, so I could only imagine what she thought of it all. I was being painted as "the bad guy" and...well, perhaps I am in a way and I have some demons to conquer, but that is no good first impression to rest my stance on. So, what is worse -- the fame or the infamy?
"So, have ya even said hello yet?" my nephew Ben asked one of the evenings I had been eying her across a smokey club, like some film noir cliche'. He had ambled up to me, patting my shoulder.
"Hum?" I replied, attempting feigned ignorance, though him and I obviously knew whom was being discussed.
"Gabriella," he added smirking, perching himself on a bar stool next to me. There was a shining look of pride on his face.
I regarded him for a moment, looking at him briefly through the green glass of my own beer bottle as I emptied its contents. "Gabriella" I echoed, letting it roll off my tongue, delighting - if just for a moment - in its poetic simplicity.
"Yeah, found out some info for you," Ben said, congratulating himself with a smug grin. "She even teaches at your alma mater - my school Wayne State."
"A teacher?" I nodded, smiling to myself at the simple joy I was getting from the little facts about her now revealing themselves to me. Of course I had devised a million personas in my head about her already -- a musician, a poet, a gypsy, perhaps? A teacher, though, now that intrigued me.
"Yeah, was a lucky thing. I saw her on campus the other day, figured she was a student. I was bored so I followed her. She went into a class and, to my surprise, set herself up at the front. I peaked on the class listing on the door. Guess what she teaches?" Ben added excitedly, he always seemed to take an excessive enjoyment in knowing something that I didn't. He'd done that his whole life with me and this was no different.
"You got me," I replied, letting him have his moment.
"Jazz History...Professor Gabriella Cawston. Cool, huh?"
"Jazz History?" Boy was I beginning to sound like a parrot, repeating everything. I guess I was just trying to take it all in. "That's very intriguing."
"Yeah, funny thing is I almost applied for that this term," Ben chuckled, mostly to himself. "Well, if you aren't going to talk with her, I am. She's a hottie," he added, hopping off the stool and pushing his curly blond locks from his eyes.
"No!" I countered, grabbing his arm.
"No?" Ben looked at me, a bit stunned, his eyebrow raised in curiosity.
I sighed, a bit embarrassed by my reaction to his proposition. "Go on," I said weakly, releasing my hold of him and waving him off.
I watched Ben make his way through the hoards of people at the club and turned back to the bartender, putting my empty beer bottle up on the bar. "Give me a shot of bourbon, my friend," I glanced over to see Ben close to her, "and make it a double."
But every time I see you
I wonder why
I don't break a couple rules
so that you'll notice me
x-posted a bit
TITLE: Sister, Do You Know My Name? (working title)
GENRE: Romance, Angst
KEY MEMBER(S): Jack White (narrative)
SYNOPSIS: Just your typical Mary-Sue fare, I suppose. A jaded Jack has a crush on a mysterious woman who is new in town, watch as he tries to unravel her mystery.
RATING: PG-13
ARCHIVING: Yes, please. I'll put it up on the fanfic site when I get the chance, any one else who wants it, just ask.
FEEDBACK: Pretty please *bats eyes*
MISC: Jack is the narrative voice on this one, just so you don't get confused.
*
[1]
Sister, Do You Know My Name? [working title]
I'd seen her around a few times by then, each time further sparking me to want to unravel her mystery. It seemed as if during those heady days I knew nearly everyone's story in relation to me -- from prologues of gushing fandom or cool indifference toward me to endings far from fairy-tales often tinged with screaming or disenchantment. So many people were positioning themselves around me, wearing their agendas on their sleeves like badges of honor. This girl, though, she always seemed just on the periphery of such things -- around places I frequented enough to get noticed, yet never once making the now-inevitable approach of myself (for autographs, praise, "to get to know me," etc.).
Yes, she interested me. I hesitate to say even that it might not only have been the seeming challenge of her that drew me in the first place, but perhaps more-so the sharp gaze of her big, brilliant blue eyes that seemed to almost sparkle when she surveyed the room around her, usually just merely sipping on a drink, and her exotic raven black hair, cut somewhat short and spiked.
She was so stunning, yet so unaware.
Sometimes I would find myself wondering how many of the other men around her harbored such feelings as I did and, conversely how she was probably completely oblivious to all our quiet pining.
Swank said I should just talk to her. I think he was getting tired of my schoolboy-esque musings after each night I saw her, tired of me trying to find out anything - anything at all - about her. Secretly, though, I think he was just as curious. I know him far too well. As for approaching her, part of me wanted to take his advice, yet part of me was terribly worried that she would just brush me right off her sleeve with my feeble attempt, breaking my heart. Of course, compounding the issue as well, I had seen her there on The Night a few weeks before. The Night was where I was involved in an altercation with an old acquaintance Jason. It was a messy scene and then the talk of the town, so I could only imagine what she thought of it all. I was being painted as "the bad guy" and...well, perhaps I am in a way and I have some demons to conquer, but that is no good first impression to rest my stance on. So, what is worse -- the fame or the infamy?
"So, have ya even said hello yet?" my nephew Ben asked one of the evenings I had been eying her across a smokey club, like some film noir cliche'. He had ambled up to me, patting my shoulder.
"Hum?" I replied, attempting feigned ignorance, though him and I obviously knew whom was being discussed.
"Gabriella," he added smirking, perching himself on a bar stool next to me. There was a shining look of pride on his face.
I regarded him for a moment, looking at him briefly through the green glass of my own beer bottle as I emptied its contents. "Gabriella" I echoed, letting it roll off my tongue, delighting - if just for a moment - in its poetic simplicity.
"Yeah, found out some info for you," Ben said, congratulating himself with a smug grin. "She even teaches at your alma mater - my school Wayne State."
"A teacher?" I nodded, smiling to myself at the simple joy I was getting from the little facts about her now revealing themselves to me. Of course I had devised a million personas in my head about her already -- a musician, a poet, a gypsy, perhaps? A teacher, though, now that intrigued me.
"Yeah, was a lucky thing. I saw her on campus the other day, figured she was a student. I was bored so I followed her. She went into a class and, to my surprise, set herself up at the front. I peaked on the class listing on the door. Guess what she teaches?" Ben added excitedly, he always seemed to take an excessive enjoyment in knowing something that I didn't. He'd done that his whole life with me and this was no different.
"You got me," I replied, letting him have his moment.
"Jazz History...Professor Gabriella Cawston. Cool, huh?"
"Jazz History?" Boy was I beginning to sound like a parrot, repeating everything. I guess I was just trying to take it all in. "That's very intriguing."
"Yeah, funny thing is I almost applied for that this term," Ben chuckled, mostly to himself. "Well, if you aren't going to talk with her, I am. She's a hottie," he added, hopping off the stool and pushing his curly blond locks from his eyes.
"No!" I countered, grabbing his arm.
"No?" Ben looked at me, a bit stunned, his eyebrow raised in curiosity.
I sighed, a bit embarrassed by my reaction to his proposition. "Go on," I said weakly, releasing my hold of him and waving him off.
I watched Ben make his way through the hoards of people at the club and turned back to the bartender, putting my empty beer bottle up on the bar. "Give me a shot of bourbon, my friend," I glanced over to see Ben close to her, "and make it a double."
But every time I see you
I wonder why
I don't break a couple rules
so that you'll notice me
