Nice to see something new from you. I've been a big Heinlein fan for a
long time, so I am interested in seeing how you handle the fusion.
Suggested changes: {before : after}
On Wed, 1 May 2002 13:32:43 -0700 (PDT) "C. Richard Davies" <masefield_k@yahoo.ca> wrote:
A large living/dining room, the kitchen, and a small office largely take
up the first floor. Right now, both of the active members of the household are
in the kitchen. Mother is humming gently as she fries eggs on the stovetop;
{father : Father} sits at the small breakfast table and reads the morning newspaper.
>From following paragraphs, I get the feeling Mother and Father are their
proper names, at least within the household. I'm starting to get
Pleasantville flashbacks. :})
Reading further, I also get a strong feeling of _Puppet Masters_.
Mother tsks. "Well, if you really want to mix peanut butter and fried
eggs, I won't stop you. But nobody's getting any disgusting combinations {of
foods :} until Sam gets up."
"Good morning dearest and best beloved older sister, what would you like
on your toast?" Diane asks before Sam can get anything out.
"Blood -- yours!"
Love it!
By 8:25, breakfast is done, and Sam takes her plate to the kitchen sink
before dashing upstairs to take a small, petty revenge by monopolizing the
bathroom and the shower for the next ten minutes. After showering, she brushes
her teeth, runs a comb through her hair, and applies a small amount of
lip-gloss. She opens the door to leave and is nearly bowled over by her little
sister's entrance. Before she's out, the shower is already running over the
sound of (false) complaints that Sam has used up all the hot water.
Now I know it's science fiction. She's only taking ten minutes in the
bathroom, including a shower.
{And : As} he exits through the doorway. Mother watches him go with anxiety that
she can't quite disguise. Sam, not wanting to intrude further, heads into the
kitchen to start making her lunch, listening as she does to the sound of the
car pulling out of the driveway. As she mulls over whether to pack a juice
bottle or buy one at school, Mother returns to the kitchen.
"Well, it already hasn't been as long as that one time," Sam comments,
remembering when she was only eight and Father had gone into work shortly after
midnight. By the end of the day, there had been a new President in the Oval
Office.
That and the shoulder holster are some interesting clues about what Father
does at work.
One quick check of her algebra problems later, Sam has packed her books
(both text- and note-) into her satchel, along with a collection of Robert E.
Howard's poetry to read in study hall. (This book, for the curious, is also not
on her approved reading list.)
Which makes me wonder what the sanctions are for reading unapproved books.
Both Diane and Sam seem to read a lot of those and are don't seem _too_
worried when they are called on it.
The incident begins after they reach the platform for the train, having
already shown their student passes to the ticket taker. The platform is crowded
at this time of the morning, but not as crowded as it becomes in early evening,
when suburbanites seeking amusement head into the central city even as workers
there are heading home. So when Sam's eye lights on a weedy-looking man in his
mid twenties who has quietly approached a number of ladies on the platform from
behind {: in} their blind spots, then brushed past them with a quick apology, her
curiosity is aroused.
"Hey you! Hold it right there!" she calls, loudly enough that she can be
heard despite the screams of the incoming train. Of course, the perpetrator --
while startled that anyone noticed his redistribution of wealth -- doesn't hold
it anywhere, and also starts to run.
Thorby?
"Crazy bitch tried to kill me!" shouts the pickpocket, who then {beings : begins} to
swear in the patois of English, Vietnamese and Cantonese so beloved of gang
filmmakers.
In any event, they've reached their destination, and Mary makes her first
purchase -- from one of the vending machines set up in front of a laundromatic.
She savors the taste of Dr. Pepper as they walk the rest of the distance
{towards : to} the bookstore.
I like laundromatic. I picture something like an automatic dry cleaners.
It's interesting how you've salted the story with occasional words for
things that are slightly different from what we are used to. It makes me
wonder a bit what the family sedan is like.
Sam slowly walks down the pair of aisles that make up the store, both
sides lined with the month's new graphic books. She examines the covers of the
anthologies: _Amazing_ and _Fantastic_; _Thrilling_ and _Chilling_; _Weird_ and
_Wonder_; even _Harlequin_ and _Silhouette_. They remain the backbone of the
industry, even though character-focused titles form most of its skeleton:
_Doctor Savage_, _The Shadow_, _Gladiator_, _The Black Bat_, _The Golden
Amazon_, _Spider_, _Tony Stark_, _Ka-Zar_, _Doctor Doom_, _The Mutants_,
_Prince Arn_, _Archie_, _Star Trek_, and Sam's personal favorite, _The
Avengers_. Even if it {weren't : wasn't} the book that taught her to love reading, she'd
pick up this particular month's edition. It's set in Japan, and as the current
writer has shown a talent for presenting "exotic" locations realistically, Sam
is curious to see how she does with Sam's home state. She also considers
picking up the new _Conan_, but decides that her budget can't stretch
that far.
At first there's a sense of relief; it's a woman, only a few years older
than Sam herself, rather than a man. Then a certain amount of concern returns.
Her purply black hair and very intense, almost unblinking stare both suggest a
type of person with whom Sam isn't in any particular hurry to associate
{: with}.
Something about her tugs at the memory, though.
"You're welcome," Sam starts to say, but he words smash into the wall
formed by the freezing of her smile{, :} as how she's just been addressed
registers. It has been nearly eight years since she last heard her biological
father's last name ... and it has never been applied to her.
She is still running when she bursts through the front door of her home
fifteen minutes later. (Of course, still isn't quite the right term; she didn't
run while on the train itself.) Mother comes down the stairs with a startled
expression; she has heard both the door slamming shut and her {eldest: elder} daughter
breathing heavily.
Unless there's a third child somewhere.
Sam hates this. She hates feeling so scared and small and helpless. But
she {know : knows} that Mother wouldn't make a decision like this unless she was sure of
it, and so she just lets out a sigh. "Okay."
Sam stares at it for a long, confused moment. Something in her wants to
reach out with her hand and take the pendant -- and the oddest thing is, that
something feels like the part of her that exults in the chase. Perhaps it is
just that she wants to believe Rune's words, and she knows that if they are
true --
It's surprising how calmly Sam takes the cheesy looking amulet.
Considering how down-to-earth practical so many of RAH's heroines are.
"You'll get cat food and water," Sam comments as she picks up the pendant.
It's much lighter than she expected, though she soberly realizes that she has
no idea what it's made of, and so no reason to "expect" anything. "How does
this thing work?"
Nice negotiation technique. On both sides.
Sam flings open the door to her room and dashes as silently as she can to
the bathroom. There, she stares into the mirror, her face aghast. It is with
great effort that she holds in a scream.
So she does have some fashion scence. :}b
"I do not wear a swimsuit outside of a swimming pool, where no one can see
me but other girls! What *is* this thing?!"
I imagine her swimsuits have longer skirts too. I wonder what they do at
the beach.
"Well, that got your attention at least. Now look," she continues sharply.
"Assuming all goes well, the only people who'll see you aren't going to care
about your clothes or your voice, or anything else but how your insides taste!
Now can we please work on the problem of how to fight them?"
Dare I ask what happens if all does not go well?
"Open it," Sam snaps at Rune.
"What --"
"Like you opened my window! Hurry!"
Good thinking. It might be worth asking later if Rune could have done the
same thing downstairs.
"Shut up!" Mary roars as she fumbles with her mother's wrist. "She's ...
she's {alives : alive}, she's ... probably just tired, or, or, or hurt
--"
... and I need to talk to the police."
"Perhaps we should leave," Rune says softly.
"And animal control," Mary adds, turning to stare at the cat.
Nice touch. Will Mary recognize Rune's cat form if she sees it again?
"All right," Sam says, calming down a bit. "How do I change back to normal?"
"I don't know." Rune seems depressed to once more be on unfirm ground.
Oops.
"Oh." Sam tries to wrap her mind around that thought, and then a question
occurs to her. "How do you --"
I can just see her asking Father for help. "Yes Sam,that's nice," looking
over the top of his evening paper. Of course, he does work for the Agency
(what ever that is). It would be interesting if he's investigating the
same incidents Sam gets involved in as Sailor Moon or whatever she will be
calling herself in this story.