Post by Harmony on Nov 20, 2022 20:30:42 GMT -5
My body ached for the exertion, but it was worth it. I blinked a trickle of sweat out of my eyes and stared a hole through the center of the padded glove Corey Smith held aloft. Lashing out with the best roundhouse I could muster, Corey absorbed the blow with a half step backwards and gave a little whistle.
There ya go, tiger. Give me another one like that.
I did. And Corey playfully shook his hand like I broke it.
Alright, let's take a break while my metacarpals still have carpals.
I still had plenty more left in the tank, but I ultimately ceded to Corey’s request. We were at a local gym. Corey had rented out a private practice room for the day. It was the first hint that I got that he had money to throw around. Not that I resented him for it. I know how many people he's helped with that money. But he had been keen enough not to offer me any despite my sparse and nomadic existence. He somehow already knew what I would say.
Your kicks are getting better.
I nodded my thanks.
I’ll turn you into a striker yet.
Smiling back at him, I offered him a fist bump. We touched knuckles, and Corey reached down towards a metal folding chair, scooped up the bottle of water there and threw it to me.
So…he started slowly, seeming unconvinced as to how he should proceed. Thad told me a little about the “project” he’s helping you with.
I couldn’t help but scowl. Thad shouldn’t have said anything.
Before you get huffy, just know this. I…he looked away from my face, picking out a spot in the wall that had suddenly drawn his interest. I don’t agree with it, per se, but my hands aren’t exactly clean either. And if you say these guys are bad, and Thad says these guys are bad, I’m inclined to believe you and let you have at it. But what I am offering is my help. You feel me?
I felt that. I sat down in the chair, grabbing at the towel and my notepad that were underneath the seat. I penned Corey a reply.
I feel you. But I don’t want to drag you into this. You’re my manager, that’s good enough for now.
Corey simply nodded, and I could tell by his mien he wasn’t about to press the issue. But he did change subjects. There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about. But it bears some explanation.
Toweling the sweat from my scalp, I leaned in to let him know he had my attention.
How would you like to speak again?
How would I like to speak again? The fuck kinda question was that? I soured, and dumped the towel to the floor. I started writing a message back to Corey, replete with some salty language, when he held his hand up and stopped me.
Hold on. Before you reply, hear me out. He swallowed deep. It sounds like a stupid question, right?
Yeah. It did.
But this isn’t some baited hook I’m dancing in front of you. I’m serious. His eyes looked like they were scrawling through thin air, desperately looking for how to proceed. You know I’m no stranger to the…unusual.
That was an understatement. Corey Smith. Famed XWF superstar. World renowned striker. Respected member of the roster. Blood brother to Thaddeus Duke. Who just also happened to have spent about two years of his life housing two different artificial intelligences in his head, one good, one evil. That was the Reader’s Digest version. Yeah, unusual was an understatement.
So, my boyfriend is fae folk.
Fae WHAT? I wrote back.
Fae folk. Like a faerie. But more masculine. I guess. Anyway, the story of Peter Pan was based on him, alright?
This was a rib. It had to be a fuckin’ rib. I rolled my eyes right out of my skull and got up off the chair.
Wait, wait, wait! I’m serious!
I don’t think this is funny!
Neither do I! My boyfriend, he comes from this…this PLACE, okay?
What? Never-Never Land?
How mad would you be if I said “yes”?
Bye, Corey. Hit me up when you want to be serious again.
Noooo, no,no,no! Corey skirted around to my front as I started heading in the direction of the exit. Just stop, and chill, and listen. I’m not making fun of you, I swear. I’m offering you a chance to be whole.
“A chance to be whole.” I worried the words about in my head. Because even if I were to get my voice back, would I ever be whole? Would my tragedies simply dissipate? Would the sore, angry void deep in my soul cease to be? Question upon question. And yet, there was one final question that reigned over them all.
Did I even deserve to be whole?
Corey’s expression had turned more hopeful as I mused. You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?
Yes. I wrote simply.
Is that a “yes, I’m along for the ride” kind of yes?
Another voice sounded out behind me. I wheeled around to confront them.
He was a young man, early 20’s. His clothes were contemporary but stylish. But that wasn’t where the eye was naturally drawn. His features bespoke a boyish playfulness and an eerie etherealness, hinted at by factors above and beyond the subtle elf-like point to his ears. It occurred to me, as my eyes met his, that I couldn’t quite ascertain what color they were. They were simply all colors, all at once.
Yeah, sorry about that. He does that popping in and out thing. Corey reentered my field of vision and snuck an arm around the newcomer's waist, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. Harmon, this is Pan. Pan, meet Harmon.
His name is actually Pan?
It is! Pan replied jubilantly. As though he relished the sheer absurdity of his own existence. Pan offered me a hand and I took it, pumping it good naturedly. But even his touch carried with it something indefinably “other”, like a miniature electric shock to the system. I pulled my hand away, surprised at the tingling in the nerve endings of my fingertips and how good it felt. I think I can help you, Harmon.
I looked to Corey for afirmation, and he simply smiled back.
How does this work?
Pan’s own grin widened. How do you feel about water?
What had happened next literally transpired in the blink of an eye. One moment in the training room, the next atop a rolling plush green hill being buffeted by a gentle breeze that smelled vaguely of roses. It was beyond gorgeous.
But Corey threw up. Said something about how instantaneous travel always did something to his stomach. As though he’d done it a hundred times already. Maybe he had.
From there, we pressed on into a copse of trees at the base of the hill. Like Pan, the trees were subtly otherworldly. Every once in a while, I would swear I caught a glimpse of the trees shifting in place as though they were sentient and doing the arboreal equivalent of leaning in for a better look at us. I asked Pan if they were alive and he just smiled.
Before long, we had arrived at a pool pf pristine water dotted with colorful lilipads. An archway of fronds arced over the pool like a crown atop its head. Again, otherworldly seemed the most apt descriptor.
I looked to Corey, then to Pan. Pan stepped towards the water and held his hand aloft over the pool. This is water of replenishment, Harmon. It heals wounds. Soothes scars. And makes one whole again.
It couldn’t be that simple. It couldn’t. I pulled out my paper again.
So I just get in?
You just get in.
How does it work?
Like magic. Pan intoned, a wry twinkle in his eye.
I looked again at Corey. He also made a friendly gesture towards the pool. You’ll never know unless you try, man.
I’m not sure I deserve it.
What do you- Pan started, before Corey cut in.
Harmon, we’ve been over that. It’s nonsense talk, okay? You DESERVE this. There is nothing you have done in your life that merits you continuing to allow yourself to suffer.
But you don’t know everything about me Corey…
Turning my attention back to the pool, I steeled myself. Drawing in a breath and releasing it slowly. Maybe it wouldn’t even work. Maybe I’d come out of these waters just as broken as when I went in.
Maybe…maybe…
It was like my body took hold before my mind. I found my legs moving into the pool, and before I knew it I was shin deep in the surprisingly warm, comforting waters. I continued ahead, the lapping rivulets breaking around me as I upset the pond’s placid surface. Then, drawing still another breath, this one to hold, I plunged my head underwater. And I opened my eyes.
And I saw.
TO BE CONTINUED….
Alexandra, I can’t see you from where I am.
Perched high above the majority of the roster. One of the top 10 most successful athletes in the entire promotion. A CHAMPION.
Do not mistake this for some facile ego trip. That would imply I’m deluded. But there’s nothing deluded about what I’m saying. I’m simply stating a fact.
I’m just higher up on the food chain than you.
Now, you did, of course, win your qualifying match. I can’t take that away from you. But when it comes to “things earned”, when we look at the grand scheme of things, do you think YOU are the most deserving? You have a hard enough time winning a match, much less a championship contest against one of the longest win streaks OCW has ever seen.
I can name five people, right now, who are more deserving. Hell with it, let’s make it ten.
Mike Zybala
Ed Houston
Crash Rodriguez
Thunder Knuckles
Killa Kali
Alice Knight
The Lost Stranger
Bifford
Bob Grenier
Thad Duke. Yeah, we’ll throw the boss a bone.
That is TEN people who deserve this match more than you. And I didn’t even need to break a sweat thinking about it that hard.
Those people are my PEERS, Alexandra. You are not a peer. You don’t rate that high. And I think you know it. I think you know your punching above your weight class. And I think your shook as hell.
Good.
You should be. You should be shook. It proves you have a brain. And if you’re not afraid? You’re going to get fucking rocked into last month. That way you get a do-over on winning that qualifying match, because you’ll know you don’t want ANY of this. But never mind all that. I DO think you’re afraid. I can cut you that much credit. So here’s my advice. Ride that fear. Channel it into anger. Because what is anger but the basest expression of fear? And then you ride that anger into the best goddamn match of your life. Will it be enough?
No.
But you’ll go down swinging. Maybe you’ll even get close. Ball Ball got close. Sahara got close. And they both caught some of my shine in doing so. So yeah, maybe you’ll make it look competitive. And for now, for you, that’ll have to be enough. It’ll have to be the best you can expect.
Because it won’t get any better than that.
There ya go, tiger. Give me another one like that.
I did. And Corey playfully shook his hand like I broke it.
Alright, let's take a break while my metacarpals still have carpals.
I still had plenty more left in the tank, but I ultimately ceded to Corey’s request. We were at a local gym. Corey had rented out a private practice room for the day. It was the first hint that I got that he had money to throw around. Not that I resented him for it. I know how many people he's helped with that money. But he had been keen enough not to offer me any despite my sparse and nomadic existence. He somehow already knew what I would say.
Your kicks are getting better.
I nodded my thanks.
I’ll turn you into a striker yet.
Smiling back at him, I offered him a fist bump. We touched knuckles, and Corey reached down towards a metal folding chair, scooped up the bottle of water there and threw it to me.
So…he started slowly, seeming unconvinced as to how he should proceed. Thad told me a little about the “project” he’s helping you with.
I couldn’t help but scowl. Thad shouldn’t have said anything.
Before you get huffy, just know this. I…he looked away from my face, picking out a spot in the wall that had suddenly drawn his interest. I don’t agree with it, per se, but my hands aren’t exactly clean either. And if you say these guys are bad, and Thad says these guys are bad, I’m inclined to believe you and let you have at it. But what I am offering is my help. You feel me?
I felt that. I sat down in the chair, grabbing at the towel and my notepad that were underneath the seat. I penned Corey a reply.
I feel you. But I don’t want to drag you into this. You’re my manager, that’s good enough for now.
Corey simply nodded, and I could tell by his mien he wasn’t about to press the issue. But he did change subjects. There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about. But it bears some explanation.
Toweling the sweat from my scalp, I leaned in to let him know he had my attention.
How would you like to speak again?
How would I like to speak again? The fuck kinda question was that? I soured, and dumped the towel to the floor. I started writing a message back to Corey, replete with some salty language, when he held his hand up and stopped me.
Hold on. Before you reply, hear me out. He swallowed deep. It sounds like a stupid question, right?
Yeah. It did.
But this isn’t some baited hook I’m dancing in front of you. I’m serious. His eyes looked like they were scrawling through thin air, desperately looking for how to proceed. You know I’m no stranger to the…unusual.
That was an understatement. Corey Smith. Famed XWF superstar. World renowned striker. Respected member of the roster. Blood brother to Thaddeus Duke. Who just also happened to have spent about two years of his life housing two different artificial intelligences in his head, one good, one evil. That was the Reader’s Digest version. Yeah, unusual was an understatement.
So, my boyfriend is fae folk.
Fae WHAT? I wrote back.
Fae folk. Like a faerie. But more masculine. I guess. Anyway, the story of Peter Pan was based on him, alright?
This was a rib. It had to be a fuckin’ rib. I rolled my eyes right out of my skull and got up off the chair.
Wait, wait, wait! I’m serious!
I don’t think this is funny!
Neither do I! My boyfriend, he comes from this…this PLACE, okay?
What? Never-Never Land?
How mad would you be if I said “yes”?
Bye, Corey. Hit me up when you want to be serious again.
Noooo, no,no,no! Corey skirted around to my front as I started heading in the direction of the exit. Just stop, and chill, and listen. I’m not making fun of you, I swear. I’m offering you a chance to be whole.
“A chance to be whole.” I worried the words about in my head. Because even if I were to get my voice back, would I ever be whole? Would my tragedies simply dissipate? Would the sore, angry void deep in my soul cease to be? Question upon question. And yet, there was one final question that reigned over them all.
Did I even deserve to be whole?
Corey’s expression had turned more hopeful as I mused. You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?
Yes. I wrote simply.
Is that a “yes, I’m along for the ride” kind of yes?
Another voice sounded out behind me. I wheeled around to confront them.
He was a young man, early 20’s. His clothes were contemporary but stylish. But that wasn’t where the eye was naturally drawn. His features bespoke a boyish playfulness and an eerie etherealness, hinted at by factors above and beyond the subtle elf-like point to his ears. It occurred to me, as my eyes met his, that I couldn’t quite ascertain what color they were. They were simply all colors, all at once.
Yeah, sorry about that. He does that popping in and out thing. Corey reentered my field of vision and snuck an arm around the newcomer's waist, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. Harmon, this is Pan. Pan, meet Harmon.
His name is actually Pan?
It is! Pan replied jubilantly. As though he relished the sheer absurdity of his own existence. Pan offered me a hand and I took it, pumping it good naturedly. But even his touch carried with it something indefinably “other”, like a miniature electric shock to the system. I pulled my hand away, surprised at the tingling in the nerve endings of my fingertips and how good it felt. I think I can help you, Harmon.
I looked to Corey for afirmation, and he simply smiled back.
How does this work?
Pan’s own grin widened. How do you feel about water?
*****
What had happened next literally transpired in the blink of an eye. One moment in the training room, the next atop a rolling plush green hill being buffeted by a gentle breeze that smelled vaguely of roses. It was beyond gorgeous.
But Corey threw up. Said something about how instantaneous travel always did something to his stomach. As though he’d done it a hundred times already. Maybe he had.
From there, we pressed on into a copse of trees at the base of the hill. Like Pan, the trees were subtly otherworldly. Every once in a while, I would swear I caught a glimpse of the trees shifting in place as though they were sentient and doing the arboreal equivalent of leaning in for a better look at us. I asked Pan if they were alive and he just smiled.
Before long, we had arrived at a pool pf pristine water dotted with colorful lilipads. An archway of fronds arced over the pool like a crown atop its head. Again, otherworldly seemed the most apt descriptor.
I looked to Corey, then to Pan. Pan stepped towards the water and held his hand aloft over the pool. This is water of replenishment, Harmon. It heals wounds. Soothes scars. And makes one whole again.
It couldn’t be that simple. It couldn’t. I pulled out my paper again.
So I just get in?
You just get in.
How does it work?
Like magic. Pan intoned, a wry twinkle in his eye.
I looked again at Corey. He also made a friendly gesture towards the pool. You’ll never know unless you try, man.
I’m not sure I deserve it.
What do you- Pan started, before Corey cut in.
Harmon, we’ve been over that. It’s nonsense talk, okay? You DESERVE this. There is nothing you have done in your life that merits you continuing to allow yourself to suffer.
But you don’t know everything about me Corey…
Turning my attention back to the pool, I steeled myself. Drawing in a breath and releasing it slowly. Maybe it wouldn’t even work. Maybe I’d come out of these waters just as broken as when I went in.
Maybe…maybe…
It was like my body took hold before my mind. I found my legs moving into the pool, and before I knew it I was shin deep in the surprisingly warm, comforting waters. I continued ahead, the lapping rivulets breaking around me as I upset the pond’s placid surface. Then, drawing still another breath, this one to hold, I plunged my head underwater. And I opened my eyes.
And I saw.
TO BE CONTINUED….
HARMON’S JOURNAL: ENTRY 11
Alexandra, I can’t see you from where I am.
Perched high above the majority of the roster. One of the top 10 most successful athletes in the entire promotion. A CHAMPION.
Do not mistake this for some facile ego trip. That would imply I’m deluded. But there’s nothing deluded about what I’m saying. I’m simply stating a fact.
I’m just higher up on the food chain than you.
Now, you did, of course, win your qualifying match. I can’t take that away from you. But when it comes to “things earned”, when we look at the grand scheme of things, do you think YOU are the most deserving? You have a hard enough time winning a match, much less a championship contest against one of the longest win streaks OCW has ever seen.
I can name five people, right now, who are more deserving. Hell with it, let’s make it ten.
Mike Zybala
Ed Houston
Crash Rodriguez
Thunder Knuckles
Killa Kali
Alice Knight
The Lost Stranger
Bifford
Bob Grenier
Thad Duke. Yeah, we’ll throw the boss a bone.
That is TEN people who deserve this match more than you. And I didn’t even need to break a sweat thinking about it that hard.
Those people are my PEERS, Alexandra. You are not a peer. You don’t rate that high. And I think you know it. I think you know your punching above your weight class. And I think your shook as hell.
Good.
You should be. You should be shook. It proves you have a brain. And if you’re not afraid? You’re going to get fucking rocked into last month. That way you get a do-over on winning that qualifying match, because you’ll know you don’t want ANY of this. But never mind all that. I DO think you’re afraid. I can cut you that much credit. So here’s my advice. Ride that fear. Channel it into anger. Because what is anger but the basest expression of fear? And then you ride that anger into the best goddamn match of your life. Will it be enough?
No.
But you’ll go down swinging. Maybe you’ll even get close. Ball Ball got close. Sahara got close. And they both caught some of my shine in doing so. So yeah, maybe you’ll make it look competitive. And for now, for you, that’ll have to be enough. It’ll have to be the best you can expect.
Because it won’t get any better than that.