Status: I'm on hiatus until June 27th 2012 due to my GCSE's. Please, please stick with this.
Bring Me Back To You
Tiny Ball Of Fury.
Nearly 90 years ago, and he shouldn't remember anything from that early on in his childhood, but it was the day he first met her and so her remembered it vividly. He thought that maybe he was in love with her from that day on, but his age riddled brain had a habit of confusing memories with feelings, and it might have been later on.
It was a hot summer day, one of the rare heatwaves in England that would be spoken about for years to come, and Old Man Atkins, or Joey as he was known back then was drawing a big picture of a ship in the dirt outside his front porch. He wanted to be a sailor when he was older, but he knew his momma wouldn't let him. She's always said sailors were dirty, dirty creatures but Joey didn't see any reason as to why.
He had just finished etching the mast, and was wiping his grubby fingers on his faded patched blue overalls when a tiny ball of fury ran over his picture, ruining the carefully drawn boat. For a scary second he thought he might cry, but then he remembered his Daddy had told him to be a big boy and so he swallowed the lump in his throat and chased after the destroyer of his 'pretty picture'.
"Hey, wait up!" The destroyer stopped and turned around, revealing herself to be a small girl with fiery red curls and large emerald green eyes.
"What?" Her voice was distinctly Irish. The girl was impatient and tapped her foot whilst waiting for Joey to answer her.
"You- you ran over my picture! I was drawing a boat!" Joey's face flushed red, as he realised his stutter. The girl laughed, and Joey found it to be one of the nicest things he had ever heard. It sounded like bells, like when his momma took him to Church.
"Don't be such a baby! How old are you anyways?" The girl bit one of her nails and spat it on the ground. Joey thought in his head she wouldn't make a very good lady, but didn't say it out loud because the girl scared him a little.
"I'm six and a quarter!" Joey said proudly, his chest puffing up a little. "What are you, four?" The girl frowned and clenched her fists. Joey unwittingly took a step back.
"No, I'm seven, actually! My Mummy just says I'm little, but one day a growth spurt is going to make me big and tall!" Surprised at the fierceness of the girls objection, Joey didn't say anything. "I'm Helen." Suddenly Helen stuck out her hand, a small wistful smile gracing her face.
"Joey" Joey smiled and shook Helen's hand.
"Joey...I like it."
Old Man Atkins stirs in his bed but doesn't wake. A nurse walks over, checks his chart and sighs sadly. Shaking her head, she pats his shoulder and leaves.
It was a hot summer day, one of the rare heatwaves in England that would be spoken about for years to come, and Old Man Atkins, or Joey as he was known back then was drawing a big picture of a ship in the dirt outside his front porch. He wanted to be a sailor when he was older, but he knew his momma wouldn't let him. She's always said sailors were dirty, dirty creatures but Joey didn't see any reason as to why.
He had just finished etching the mast, and was wiping his grubby fingers on his faded patched blue overalls when a tiny ball of fury ran over his picture, ruining the carefully drawn boat. For a scary second he thought he might cry, but then he remembered his Daddy had told him to be a big boy and so he swallowed the lump in his throat and chased after the destroyer of his 'pretty picture'.
"Hey, wait up!" The destroyer stopped and turned around, revealing herself to be a small girl with fiery red curls and large emerald green eyes.
"What?" Her voice was distinctly Irish. The girl was impatient and tapped her foot whilst waiting for Joey to answer her.
"You- you ran over my picture! I was drawing a boat!" Joey's face flushed red, as he realised his stutter. The girl laughed, and Joey found it to be one of the nicest things he had ever heard. It sounded like bells, like when his momma took him to Church.
"Don't be such a baby! How old are you anyways?" The girl bit one of her nails and spat it on the ground. Joey thought in his head she wouldn't make a very good lady, but didn't say it out loud because the girl scared him a little.
"I'm six and a quarter!" Joey said proudly, his chest puffing up a little. "What are you, four?" The girl frowned and clenched her fists. Joey unwittingly took a step back.
"No, I'm seven, actually! My Mummy just says I'm little, but one day a growth spurt is going to make me big and tall!" Surprised at the fierceness of the girls objection, Joey didn't say anything. "I'm Helen." Suddenly Helen stuck out her hand, a small wistful smile gracing her face.
"Joey" Joey smiled and shook Helen's hand.
"Joey...I like it."
Old Man Atkins stirs in his bed but doesn't wake. A nurse walks over, checks his chart and sighs sadly. Shaking her head, she pats his shoulder and leaves.
♠ ♠ ♠
A bit longer than I wanted it to be, but oh well, I'm pretty proud of this :)Maybe this won't be a total drabble story, but I really like this idea, feedback would be totally amazing!