Date Posted:18:25:39 09/23/09 Wed Author:Ross (terrified) Subject: Jake and Danny (Prologue?)
Okay this is just a little opening paragraph I wrote ages ago but thought I might post it in here for anyone interested - I honestly dunno what part it fits into Jake and Danny (I've yet to write the rest) but I think if I were ever to write it, this would be a good start. So, hope you enjoy and please do comment!
(P.S. I'm not a brilliant/dedicated writer, music is my main area of interest and what I'm studying in college but I do try my hand at storywriting as well, so don't be too harsh please heheh - this is just an experiment:> )
The Dollymount Strand on Bull Island* was moderately warm that night, with a hint of summer just on the cusp of the wind. The sun had set almost half an hour prior and the rose-coloured skyline was rapidly fading and the first twinkle of stars had appeared over the Irish Sea, in the far horizon in the direction of Wales. The city of Dublin stood incandescent, twinkling almost as much as the stars above. Its orange glow, a form of light pollution to an otherwise blemish-free palette of navy and white, extended all the way from Malahide to Greystones - the two extremes of the metropolitan city. The headland of Howth extended sharply from the sea, a sharp series of twists and turns of the ascending road to its south clearly distinguished by the moving lights along it, behind the barely-visible salt-washed houses below. The waves slowly washed ashore in a slow, rhythmic pattern punctuated by the occasional sleepy seagull, now surely preparing itself to sleep for the night. The sea carried with it a strong maritime smell, strong and saline but not repulsive in the slightest.
A lone dog, a mixed breed (Golden retriever and god-knows what else), walked lazily across the darkening sands, searching for a place to call its own for the peaceful night ahead. An old woman, head bound in scarf and walking a tiny Jack Russell dog of her own, treaded softly through the delicate dunes, tired from walking but determined to reach her home in the adjoining neighbourhood of Kilbarrack before 10 pm to see her favourite show on TV. If asked, she probably would have remarked that it was a beautiful evening, a perfect way to end the gorgeous sunny day that had been. It was 9.23.
The relatively silent sound of the waves rolling in and out was suddenly interrupted by the sounds of an engine revving loudly. It drove slowly past the old woman and her dog, lighting her reflective jacket up in the process. She almost looked back out of curiosity, but thought better of it and continued on her quest to make it home on time.
The car slowed even further and the gears were changed down sharply and turbulently. Evidently, the youth who was driving had not mastered the use of the clutch yet. Either that or he was doing it on purpose to 'impress' someone. Through the road down to the strand, the lights of a green Honda Civic, newly purchased (a 2013 model) and immaculate, flashed and lit up the entire road ahead.
It entered the beach area where the road ended and made a sharp left turn over the smooth sand, then turned right. Putting the car into neutral, the boy took a swig of the bottle he had, a mixture of vodka and coke and opened the door slowly. The cool air hit him and he inhaled deeply. So nice, he thought. Such a good night to clear the soul. Even in a soul as corrupt and unforgiveable as mine, he mused. As he sat on the hood of his car, crossing his legs, he regarded the now black sea and the indecipherable landscape, just barely visible at this stage.
The nineteen year old hunched his legs up further and wrapped his arms around himself, shivering slightly in the now frigid breeze. He closed his eyes and listened. Barely anything. The clash of waves and the occasional distant rumble of cars. So peaceful, he mused. So liberating.
"Pretty, isn't it?", someone said. A girl's voice.
The boy jumped slightly from the shock. He hadn't known he had company. He looked at the girl. She looked to be about sixteen or seventeen, dark brown hair, eyes of indistinguishable colour and a friendly face. She wasn't conventionally gorgeous but by not trying to, she somehow was. The boy thought of how he would definitely chat her up - were he of that inclination.
"It's gorgeous..." he trailed off and uneasily shifted his gaze away from hers.
"Is this your car? It's very nice - how much was it?" she asked, lightly tracing her fingers over the green chrome.
"Well, yeah, but I didn't buy it - Mam did. It was thirteen thousand euros" he explained whilst stile gazing at the sea.
"The name's Niamh**...you are?" the girl extended her hand playfully. Jake grasped it firmly but not too much. He didn't want to break the poor lass's fingers.
"Err...Jake" he replied. She seemed friendly enough, why not tell her my real name?
"Jake...” he reiterated, staring at a lone approaching aircraft over the bay, its landing lights a speck of ethereal light in the vast abyss of stars.
"What's up, man?" she asked gently and joined him on the hood of his car. His tummy was visible where his shirt had hitched up slightly. It was a flat tummy, with no six pack. Yummy, she thought...She hated all that six-pack muscly crap. He looked to be really tall, maybe 6 foot 7. His face was cute as well, smooth and baby-faced. Not bad at all, she considered.
The boy let out a long sigh and ran his hand through his longish auburn hair. He opened his mouth to talk, but no sound came out. Instead, a whimper escaped and he could hold it in no longer. Tears brimmed up his eyes quickly and he was powerless to stop them. He turned away from her to try and hide them from her. But it was no use.
Niamh realised what was going on right away.
"Oh, man...Jake, don't cry." It was breaking her heart to see such a cute boy sad like that. Or anyone for that matter.
"No, no. Sorry, this is stupid. I'm not crying. It’s just ..." he lied again.
She placed her hand reassuringly on his back.
"Oh my God, I feel so stupid. I can't believe I'm actually crying in front of a near-complete stranger..." he giggled and finally seemed to have some control over his waterworks. She rubbed his back reassuringly and spoke up after a short silence.
"Don't worry a bit about it. It's okay for guys to cry, contrary to popular belief...it's the ones who don't show their feelings you ought to watch out for, Jake. The bottle-uppers..." she dipped to look him in his blue eyes. He smiled. This girl, Niamh, she was really good with people, he noted. Almost reminded him of Lyds. Something about her attitude made him want to spill everything to her. Sparing no details whatsoever.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" she asked, still rubbing his back gently.
"Oh, I couldn't...it's so long though -"
"Jake, I have all the time in the world - my mam and dad are used to it, trust me. When I go for walks in St Anne's***, they know I'm not coming back for a long long time...trust me"
He looked into her eyes, those friendly doe-like eyes. And decided that Yes, he would tell her. Everything. No omissions.
"Well, I guess I can tell you ... “ he said slowly and moved his arms to his front, shielding himself from the now frosty wind. He was only wearing a T-shirt.
“Ah, I think I might have it – you’re worried over some girl, right?”
Jake smiled weakly – if you could call what was on his face a smile. Most body language experts differentiate between ‘real’ smiles and ‘fake’ ones. You could spot his lying from a mile off.
“Girls? No, girls don’t interest me at all – I’m gay” he said matter-of-factly. You would expect a closeted boy such as him to freak out at such a statement, but truth be told, he had grown used to it. Nothing mattered now, anyway, either way. Let the whole world know, if they will.
“Oh – is that what’s bothering you? I have loads of gay friends – there’s Adrian and Andy and ...” she paused and a smirk appeared on her lips, “I just realised they all start with ‘A’ ... weird” she smiled.
“Maybe it’s a genetic thing with the ‘A’s” answered Jake, a genuine grin showing on his face, the first genuine one of the evening.
She opened her mouth but suddenly Jake grabbed her hand in his and with the most intense look she had ever seen on anyone, said to her “If I tell you something tonight, do you promise me never ever to tell anyone, no matter how degrading or terrible it might be? Please, Niamh” he said, his eyes burning a hole in her.
“Of course – Jesus, it can’t be that bad, can it?” she said, shaking from the sudden intensity of it all.
Yes, it could. By God, it could be bad, though Jake and took another swig of his mix and began to speak.
*) Bull Island is a long enough island connected by bridge to the coast of Dublin, near Kilbarrack - popular beach and place for new drivers to practice.
**) Irish name, pronounced 'Neeve'.
***) St Anne's Park, a large park opposite Bull Island, on the mainland.
Once again, thanks for reading my rubbishy stuff :P
