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Reception (Ch. 12) - "Capacity"
This is a discussion on Reception (Ch. 12) - "Capacity" within the Creativity, Arts, Design, and Poetry forums, part of the General Discussion Forums category; "Capacity - The amount of traffic (activity) that a network can handle at one time." Did I just troll? Because ...
|02-02-12, 07:22 PM||#1|
¤Boss Ass Bitch¤
Join Date: Sep 2008
Reception (Ch. 12) - "Capacity"
"Capacity - The amount of traffic (activity) that a network can handle at one time."
Did I just troll? Because I think I just trolled.
I don't even know anymore.
Capacity (Ch. 12)
Heather looked fondly off into the distance as she continued the story of how she met her husband, Peter.
“Needless to say I was taken back by this proposition, but given my current circumstance I wasn’t going to refuse. Especially after I found out I’d be paid for it. All I had to do was babysit the guy, more or less,” the woman giggled, “often times I found myself protecting him more from himself rather than other people.”
“I found myself always around the guy because of that so one day he tells me his mother gave me permission to use this shed they had in their backyard. Anyway, so because I was around him more often that meant he got to go out more often, which meant I followed. That ended up getting me something nice,” she paused, “his father gave me a small allowance meant for clothing so I’d look more presentable while on the job.”
“Getting back to the point, there was one day when things got really weird. We were heading somewhere of no importance when I caught sight of this gigantic mass of shadow hurdling toward us. Before I knew what I was doing I had shoved him out of the way and ended up getting slammed into a wall by that thing. When I shook it off I saw people were acting as though I had just slammed myself up against it, like they hadn’t seen that shadow. I ignored it on the time and went to go get Peter but he started acting weird after that incident. He said he wanted to go home, so we did. When we arrived I found out for the first time that Peter apparently had a younger brother and he was waiting for us the entire time.”
“He told me that I could no longer enter the grounds of their home, to get lost and that if I ever came back that he’d kill me. I almost didn’t believe it but his tone told me he was serious about it and,” Emerson stopped her there.
“Wait a minute,” Emerson looked at her, even more confused, “Uncle Peter has a brother? Why is it I’ve never heard of him?” He asked with irritation in his voice. No one ever told him anything and he wished people would stop leaving him out of the loop.
“He can be a bit of a black sheep,” Heather said, “he’s often felt that he deserved to be the head of the family because he was more physically, mentally, and emotionally stable than Peter was, but,” she paused, “Peter was the oldest and no matter how anyone felt about him, that doesn’t change the fact the oldest inherits the title as being head of the family.”
The man found this confusing, “Well what about Minerva then?” he asked, “She’s the oldest but she won’t be the head of the family, right? I mean,” he paused, blushing a little, “she’s going to live in the UK with me when all is said and done with.”
Heather let out a small laugh which almost sounded more like a sigh, almost like she was frustrated with explaining everything, “Mira is a special case to the rule,” she said, “an exception to the rule based on the long standing agreement our families have had since your, and Mira’s, great-grandfather married your great-grandmother,” she stated, “if you recall your great-grandfather is also the father of Mira’s grandmother, Peter’s mother, remember?” she asked.
Emerson nodded but remained confused. Long standing arrangement? This is the first he’s heard about it. “And then great-grandfather married my great-grandmother and had two daughters and one son, the son is my grandfather, I know that much,” Emerson said, “So that makes me and Minerva half-second cousins, right?” He’d never really thought about it up until now. Minerva had always just sort of been there, he never saw her as family, as far as he could remember he’s always been told from a young age that she was going to be his wife – no questions asked, so he had never really thought about it up until he had it spelled out.
“That’s right,” Heather said, smiling that usual grin of hers, though it seemed more playful now, “our family made a promise that as soon as we had a daughter born into the family that she would marry the son of your family who was next in line to take over, which happens to be you. Originally we had no intention of having another child,” Emerson found that strange, why wouldn’t they have another child if they knew the other was going to be married off? Don’t they want to keep their direct line in charge of things? “And you two were the same age, both the oldest, it pretty much worked itself out!” Heather exclaimed excitedly.
“So anyway, now that you know all of the boring details, back to my story!” she shouted happily, throwing her arms into the air like a child.
Emerson felt his head pounding, “Ugh,” he tried to repress a groan, “No thanks, Aunt Heather, maybe you can finish it some other time,” he stood up from his spot at the kitchen table, “I’ve got a bad headache all of a sudden,” which wasn’t a lie, he really did. It hit him out of nowhere as soon as she had finished with all the ‘boring details’ she had just explained, “I think I’ll take some medicine and go lay back down for a little bit.” Emerson decided to forgo his initial mission of indirectly asking advice from the woman as it could wait until later. She wasn’t really getting anywhere with her story anyway, he wasn’t even sure if he believe what she had told him.
“Okay,” she turned to look up at the man dragging his feet up the stairs, bottle of aspirin in his hand, “have a nice nap, sweetie.”
“Mommy,” came a childs voice off to the side. Heather swung her head around, surprised by the presence and found Annabelle standing there, a stuffed rabbit tucked under her arm, judging by her hair Heather figured the girl had just woken up from her own nap.
“Yes?” Heather questioned, cutely.
“Why’d you lie to Em about you and Daddy?”
“I didn’t lie!” She yelled, offended by the accusation, “I embellished the truth a little, I was messing with him, sweetheart.”
“Okay…” Annabelle’s voice trailed off and she started back to her room, “Hey Mommy,” she stopped in her tracks but didn’t turn to face the woman. The woman gave her a ‘hm’ and turned to look at the seven year old. “Why is it you didn’t tell Em the whole truth about why the arrangement was made in the first place?”
Heather froze at the question, he smile quickly turned into a scowl and she glared at the young girl. “Surly Em isn’t so stupid he won’t wonder what the reason the arrangement was for in the first place, right?” Annabelle giggled and Heather glared even harder at her youngest daughter, “If it wasn’t for that convenient headache I’m sure he would have asked you about it!” She mocked, “But, I’m also sure because of that he’ll forget about it soon enough.”
Heather’s expression softened as the heavy atmosphere suddenly lifted, “You know,” the woman started, “you’re too damn smart for your own good.”
Annabelle giggled, “Thank you,” she turned briefly to glance at her mother, the violet eyes she hid peeked through her bangs, “I get it from my Daddy.” Annabelle ran off as soon as Heather jumped up out of her seat and grabbed onto the plate Emerson was using for his sandwich only moments ago. She did not move from that spot however and she restrained the urge to throw and hit something, the urge to get excessively violent. She thought she had calmed down since her youth, but old habits die hard she supposed.
Instead of tossing it, like she had intended, Heather walked over to the sink and set the plate inside it. She looked at the dishes currently piled up. One thing as for sure… she was so making Annabelle do these later. By hand.
Emerson awoke from his slumber, still with a small headache. The medicine he had taken helped but it didn’t get rid of it like he was hoping. He looked over at the desk, intending to see what time it was, but found Minerva was still asleep and hadn’t moved from the last time he saw her. His curiosity got the better of him so he slid out of the bed, walked over to the desk, and hovered over her for a while just staring at her as she slept.
He never really noticed before but she really was quite pretty, especially when she didn’t look go grumpy or apathetic all the time. The man noticed her dark hair looked like it was glued to her face, she much have been sweating. He was so used to it by now that he almost forgot but Minerva always dressed warmly, no matter what. Come to think of it he hadn’t even seen her change out of her usual warmer attire since he’s been here. The skirt and tights were not a big deal but the jacket and scarf should be reeking by now, but he’s been here for a week and she’s been wearing the same thing everyday! That was just disgusting! He understood being modest but this was just ridiculous.
Emerson continued to stare at the woman, who still hadn’t moved at all but her breathing was steady so at least he knew she wasn’t dead. And that’s when he got the overwhelming urge to act on an impulse. He brushed aside some of the sticky dark hair away from her face and leaned in closer. At the same time his other hand wandered around the bottom of her jacket, lifting it up just a little. He kept his eyes firmly glued to the bottom of the jacket as he leaned in even closer, there was that impulse, his lips barely grazed hers when he felt a pain in his wrist as though it was going to snap in half.
“What are you doing?” He looked at Minerva’s face and saw her staring right back at him; her gaze was not one of an amused person. Emerson flailed backwards, letting out a small shriek of surprise, and probably would have fallen over if it wasn’t for the vice grip the woman had around his wrist.
“Nothing!” he laughed awkwardly as she released him, “Just seeing if you were up,” he rubbed his wrist, damn that had hurt, “have you slept well?” he laughed awkwardly again, feeling embarrassed by the whole situation.
The woman didn’t answer but merely raised an eyebrow, confused by the mans actions.
“Well, anyway,” his curiosity got the better of him again so he just decided to be forward with the woman, “Minerva, why do you always dress like that?” he asked. Her face revealed nothing to him, “You always seem to hide almost every part of your body except your face and it looked like you were getting really warm while you were sleeping,” he started babbling now, “so why do you change into anything else?”
Minerva sighed, “If you really want to know why I dress like this all the time then you can find that out on our wedding night,” she stood up and immediately stretched backwards then twisted her back from side to side, each time was accompanied by a loud ‘crack’, “assuming you still even want to go through with it.” She finished, turning to leave the room.
Emerson stared at her again as she reached for the door. Her was confused, “Of course I do,” he told her, “Why wouldn’t I?”
The woman’s eyes shot open shocked at what he just said; she was glad she wasn’t facing the man at this time. Otherwise he might have figured something was up. She didn’t answer him; instead she opted for quietly leaving the room and walking down the stairs and into the kitchen where she found her mother resisting the urge to smirk while she watched Annabelle to the dished by hand and grumbling while at it.
Without a word, Minerva plopped down onto the couch and turned on the television, not really caring what was on. She just wanted something mind-numbing to take her mind off of the realization she had just come to.
I've been horribly unmotivated and distracted from writing this the past few days. You know what that means?
I need two things from my few loyal readers!
- REVIEWS -- These motivate me to get it done. Also any critiquing you may have.
- PLOT BUNNIES -- You got a situation or idea you wanna see in the story? I might just add it! I get less distracted when I have a good idea to work with, when I'm inspired. It may not be exactly what you ask for, but give Mama a little inspiration! <3
And if you wanna help more, you'll spread the word of my story. Like the good little minions you are!
'Reception' on FictionPress
Chapter One: Flight Mode
Chapter Two: Land Line
Chapter Three: MHz
Chapter Four: Reverse Charge Call
Chapter Five: Unlocking
Chapter Six: Crosstalk
Chapter Seven: Locked Phone
Chapter Eight: Asynchronous
Chapter Nine: Blocked Call
Chapter Ten: Roaming Charges
Chapter Eleven: Broadband
You Got the Motherfucking Right to Remain Violent!
I'll Take 25 Just to Watch Your Life End, I Pray Father Please Forgive Me 'fore I Sin
Oh No Here Comes the Riot - Does Everything Have to Resort to Violence?
I Thought I Told You to Keep Fucking Quiet, Don't Even Try to Take This Weapon From Me
I've Come Undone - My, What Have I Done? Fuck it Let's Kill Everyone
I'm a Take You all Down! Saying Fuck the World Now!
I'm a Take You all Out! Saying Fuck the World Now!
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