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 Posted: Wed Nov 30, 2005 4:12 pm
((Continued from the Back Alleys))
He dishes out a bowl of soup. Its not pretty or delicate, but it's nourishing. He parks a little spoon in it and hands it to her. It's a large portion.
He tilts his head at her response, and takes his glasses off, rubbing his eyes for a moment. He sets them on a makeshift table next to his sheet and pillow nest.
I have to call you something.
You want me to pick one for you?
He grins, the scars and new cuts stretching at the corners of his mouth.
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Posted: Wed Nov 30, 2005 6:39 pm
The girl's eyes seemed to portray that she had gone into a daze. A new name? It wasn't unheard of, but she felt as if she was betraying someone. After all, all she had to her name was, well, her name! Was it wrong to feel like she was then? Like keeping some life changing secret? Yet what could she lose? After a few moments of weighing her options, her pupils dialated, the spark of life returning to them.
They settled on Mr. Hollow. She nodded with a slight shrug.
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Posted: Thu Dec 01, 2005 8:07 pm
And now that he's said it, he doesn't know what the hell to name her, and in a way, doesn't feel like it's his place.
He had a name himself, a long time ago.
It was taken. Another given.
I'll say the name, you tell me if you like it. I'm not going to make you walk around with a name you hate.
How about Whisper?
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Posted: Thu Dec 01, 2005 9:21 pm
Whisper Whisper Whisper....It had a slight ring to it. Yet how ironic it was to be granted such a name as that. Whisper? It was almost as funny as if naming her Boy. What she didn't like though was that Whisper was not her. After a moment of dwelling over the name, she narrowed her eyes in offense. Though no words escaped form her lips, it did indicate that her mind was silent as well.
After watching him in caution, should this man decide he did not approve of her reaction and choose to strike her, she shook her head slowly from side to side, observing his hands closely.
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Posted: Sat Dec 03, 2005 5:14 pm
He is silent for a moment as he watches her reaction...
and then laughs, deeply. It's a sincere laugh, the likes of which she hasn't heard from him yet.
But the laughter fades, scarred lips flattening.
He doesn't know what the ******** to name a kid. Especially a kid he just met.
So I was given this name before I was made a slave. It was a nickname. They called me the Hollow one because I used hollow-point rounds.
The first thing they did to try to break me was take away the name my mother gave me. A name grows on you, or in my case, empties you out.
You can become something if you are called it enough.
I'm not going to break you.
I'm not going to hit you.
I'm not going to un-name you.
Name yourself, or not. You're "kid" and that will do.
He dishes out another bowl of soup, eating it in silence.
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Posted: Sat Dec 03, 2005 7:46 pm
Intriguing. Mr. Hollow somehow could read her face like an open book. Or was she just really that uncomplicated? As if in a rebellious rage, she sipped her soup quickly, eyes on the soggy vegetables that rested just below the surface. She would not take the name Kid, as Mr. Hollow had given in to his own name. She was determined to be her own profile, not something that was forced upon herself.
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Posted: Sat Dec 03, 2005 8:14 pm
He ignores the miniature tantrum. He thinks she should be glad for the food she's got. But he likes her spirit. He wants her to rebel against him, to push her limits, to define herself.
This is just the first baby step.
Are you a mute, girl? Or you just not much for conversation?
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Posted: Sun Dec 04, 2005 9:46 pm
The girl glanced up at him from her soup. Mute? Wasn't that a type of swamp-dwelling lizard? Her dark brows furrowed in attempted comprehension. After a moment, it struck her. Mr. Hollow wanted to know why she did not respond to him. She placed her soup bowl in her legs which were crossed daintily, and tapped her throat. Her head swept from side to side, her dark tangles swaying gently.
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Posted: Mon Dec 05, 2005 6:56 pm
He is silent himself, for the moment that follows, and then nods...
You know sign language?
He moves scarred fingers in a quick pattern, articulating the words: cat's in the cradle.
And can you read and write?
Just the essential questions. Nothing but the necessities.
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Posted: Tue Dec 06, 2005 5:11 pm
The girl grinned and nodded enthusiastically. She signed back at him quickly: Yes. I know sign language.
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Posted: Wed Dec 07, 2005 3:05 pm
Old Governor Nicholi taught me, so we could communicate without anyone understanding. We even made up our own signals.
He draws his hands up into a cup. Fortification.
He folds his hands over his throat. Assassination.
He dangles his little finger. Don't let anyone see you.
He dangles all of his fingers. Even if you have to kill the people that do.
And I think this solves the problem of what to call you. He folds one hand over the other and taps the fingertips to his lips. Its a sign-language name, that literally seems to mean "speaks with her hands," with the alternate meaning of "speaks with her actions."
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Posted: Wed Dec 07, 2005 5:00 pm
Giving him a puzzled look, she signs quickly.
Kill the people.
As for the name, she pinches her fingers and thumb together in a rapid movement, signaling no. She then adds on:
Too long. Make shorter.
Using her tiny fingers, she signs in letters:
S-P-U-R-A is what you get if you squish letter sounds together.
She brings her two hands to form a whole meaning together.
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Posted: Fri Dec 09, 2005 3:04 am
Spura.
He makes the motions again.
And then he starts to spell out his old name. His mouth can't say it, but his fingers still remember it. He spells out each letter, and all is silent but the whisper of fingers across one another.
(( refer to PM ))
She is sure that she is the only person alive who knows. There's something precious about that secret. It's a show of trust. It's more than that.
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Posted: Fri Dec 09, 2005 5:11 pm
Spura nodded and spelled his name back at him, as if in practice. It was a little confusing, knowing someone's real name, but having to call them something else. Like calling spring 'fall.' Or calling the sky green. It made no sense, but if that was the way things had to be, then so be it. Mr. Hollow had his reasonings, and she dare not argue.
Spura nodded then flopped onto the sheets, being sure to overexaggurate her tiredness. The sun broke over the horizon, as she yawned and pulled the sheets over her head, creating a small mound under the linens and pillows.
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Posted: Sat Dec 10, 2005 4:53 am
He settles close by, tired eyes falling closed.
He silences, and stills, and drifts down the road to another nightmare.
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