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 The leaving song

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William Powers

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PostSubject: The leaving song   Wed Sep 21, 2011 8:39 pm

William hauled the last sack up over his shoulder. Looking around the spare room to check if anything was missed, he nodded in approval of the complete negation of his presence from the room. The only after mark of his presence was the blacked out window in the far corner. It was recessed into the basement of the house but you can never be too careful when avoiding the last tan of his life.
Stepping out into the back yard, the sliver of moon hung low in the night air. Being only 8pm, Alyssa would still be heading home from Boston on the Train. That gave him plenty of time to head out before that awkward moment of "Why now?" dropped between them. Walking to the front of the house, he shut the gate and reached over to drop the lock in place. Guided more by memory than by sight, the hardware fell into place. He gave it a gentle tap to check and was happy it did not fly back on its hinges.
Throwing the last sack onto the small pile in front of his car he quickly began to figure the best way to pack. 8th Street off of Bridge St. was still lively at this time of night. Most people thought Centerville was a rough neighborhood. Certainly not one where you left your crap out on the street. But after ten years of being the guy that ended more trouble than he began, it earned him a measure of respect and with it some sercurity.
As he thought, an old song made new by those dumb truck ads came to mind and he began singing the first few lyrics to "God's going to cut you down." Seemed oddly right given the circumstances. As the refrain drew to an end and the first body of the song was sung, he began packing the back seat with some of the bags with more give.
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William Powers

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PostSubject: Re: The leaving song   Thu Sep 22, 2011 3:34 pm

"Oh my goodness gracious, let me tell ya the news..." His low voice carried softly on the damp air. In a odd way it amused him. For a guy that had spent the better part of the last 10 years asleep during the day, he had a remarkable amount of Shirts and Pants. He could recall only needing one suitcase when he moved into the basement. Now he had four bags plus the suit case. Ally must have tired of sewing at some point and started to simply replace his ragged cloths with bundle packs from Wal-Mart. Funny how she used to say she loved the practice. Might have been scent of blood on them that made her throw them out. It came up once or twice about how he could wear stuff that was more stitches than shirt in the Winter. It must not have sunk in that cold weather was not much different than warm weather to him anymore. It was not like he was going to catch his death of from the cold anytime soon.
"...My head's been wet with the midnight dew, I've been down on bended knee, talking to the man from Galilee..." The scary thing was, short of Alyssa, leaving this sorry town was not going to be very hard. Sure the people called it historic but really all it was, was old. Anything lives to a certain point can have history. Hell, if a car lived past ten years it could be said to have history. Cities just took much longer to get to that point. What had him wondering was how long it was going to be until he could be said to have a history. Given that for the longest time he had not even seen a whisker grow or a hair that needed trimming, the normal time line to saying he had a history sorta became invalid.
"...he spoke to me in a voice so sweet, I thought I heard the shuffling the angels feet, When he called to me and my heart stood still, when he said "John go do my will."..." The refrain kicked in again and he stopped to check his progress. He began to hum the rest of the song as he slammed the door shut, the last of the bags having been piled in the back seat. Marvelous little car, wouldn't think it had too much room but always managed to get the job done. He turned back to look at his former home one last time and the song died on his lips. May just a small part of him would miss this place. Just a small little peice, just south of his heart and north of his bowels.
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William Powers

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PostSubject: Re: The leaving song   Fri Sep 23, 2011 5:27 pm

Turning back to his car, William pulled his key free from around his neck. Walking to the drivers side, William forced himself to take a breath if only to heave a sigh of...relief would be his best guess. It's hard to be comfortable even inside your own home when you might have guests show wanting ask about all the missing animals in the surrounding area. It was going to be a funny day when the squrrels returned in force along with all the rats and stray dogs. Once, just once, he was tempted to find a hobo and get a taste of that good stuff others had told him about. What kept him from it was the chance he sunk fangs into someone drunk or doped up and getting hooked on blood even the others told him keep away from. Still, when he imagined a wave of furry bodies swarming down the street, all looking to reclaim their homes that had been taken from them due to pre-dawn feedings, it gave him a good chuckle. Like Loony Toons only less funny and more of a pest control techs wet dream.
Sliding into the drivers seat and popping the key into the ignition, he was struck by a brief moment of doubt. Here, he had people, a place to hunker down in the day time, friends or what could be called friends, and a good enough feel for his haunts to know where a quick meal could be found. Sure, he got shit for not going after fresh blood but in a odd way it had earned him a tiny measure of respect in certain circles. Not many could do what he did using only animals as food. But for every one that gave him a nod of respect for his conviction, ten more had a thing to say when they thought he was not listening. They had learned early on not to be caught speaking their minds about his eating habits to his face. There? All he knew was that there was a city in need of some fresh blood. Hell of a trade off just to be ducking some wanna be hunters. Then he reminded himself, that this was not his home. This was the rat hole apartment of a friend who he sometimes remembered to pay rent to. He left her something to help get by so these late nights would stop being mandatory and more akin getting ahead. And just like that, the song returned as he cranked the key and the engine stuttered to life.
"...Go tell that long tongued liar, Go tell that Midnight Rider, Tell the rambler the gambler the back biter, sooner or later God'll cut you down, sooner or later God'll cut you down..." Dropping the car into drive, William pulled away from the curb as he checked the clock. In about eight minutes Alyssa's train would be pulling in and he would already be on 495 heading to Route 3. He pulled onto Bridge Street and hummed the last of the song. When he was done he clicked on the radio and only half listened to the crap they were playing. His fingers danced around the programmed station buttons until he caught the tale end of Metallica's "Enter Sandman" and settled into his driving mind set. One thing he could look forward to;discovering if the driving improved up north or if New England as a whole had adopted the ESP method of driving.
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William Powers

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PostSubject: Re: The leaving song   Sun Sep 25, 2011 12:43 am

Turning off the VFW highway rotery onto Nesmith St, the lights cycled from green to red and back in a minute. Traffic being as light as it was the trip was almost seamless. In his passing, Kittredge park rolled by on his left. He gave it a brief glance as he rolled by. More than once business was settled in the darkness of that park and others like it around Lowell. Some one shot their mouth off and the wrong person over heard or they thought that they could pull rank and not have the hammer drop on their neck. More likely than not they would be given a grace period to realize their mistake. It was rare that amount of hell about to rain down on them did not jump start their survival instinct and ego's took body blows in the name of seeing another night. On those rare times that people believed they could roll the dice and win, they usually found themselves coming to blows with William. In a very real way, he thought of it as a service to those around him. At least William would stop after the man, or woman as it sometimes happened to be, could not fight any longer. When they could no longer stand, a witness would step forward and a apology would be uttered into a quiet phone. If there was no one around after it was done to help the subject home, he would do it himself. Not out of the goodness of his heart. It was just that it was bad enough to have been beaten to a pulp, it was just insulting to be left to limp home with a bright rosey dawn on the rise. From what he gathered it was a far better chance to defend themselves than if The Sheriff had to be called in. Did it get him brownie points with the higher ups? He doubted it. Did it end up giving him far more reasons to avoid empty streets and open parkways? Definately. In the end though, it gave him time to learn what his lot in life was and that was something that few people could say they learned.
Nesmith became Rogers St and he was nearly to the interstate. Odd then that the radio happened to sound off a lonely Saxophone. He smiled to himself. It had been a long time since he had heard the orginal "Turn the Page" and was happy to remember he could recall most of the words. As he began to sing along with Bob Seger, the lights appeared to turn green just a little faster. The night seemed to be just a little bit more welcoming and those doubts he had before faded further from his mind. "Say here I am, on the road again. There I am...up on the stage...here I go...playing the star again...there I go...turn the page." The on ramp to 495 rolled up and William let his foot weigh a little heavier on the accelerator. "There I go..." William sang to himself as the interstate rolled out before him "Turn the page."
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PostSubject: Re: The leaving song   Tue Sep 27, 2011 6:04 pm

The Song ended around the time that William passed by Drumhill on his way to North Chelmsford. He turned off the radio as a wave of newer music came on and had William thinking what the hell was happening with all the tone deaf people. Where were the classics anymore? Most nights he would just spend time's screwing with the radio until he happened on a song here or there to pass maybe ten minutes. Most days it was off and he wound up singing to his lonesome. From what other people told him, he was a ok singer. So it could have been something of comfort to know that he was not in danger of going tone deaf from his own voice. In the end though it just made him somewhat disheartened to know that it was slowly drawing on the time his music will only be found on "classic" rock stations. Had he the money or the time he would have gotten himself a MP3 mount and solve this problem all neat and such. Then he remembered that all it would take is one bad night and his car, and that of his precious music, would be junk for the scrap heap.
He had seen it happen before. Once or twice someone was proactive in looking out for their fellow kindred and took it upon themselves to school them in the error of their ways. He had seen one particularly strong Daeva Pancake anothers Wheels when the one in question thought he could get away with insabordination to their head hancho. That was not the sort of thing one forgot or took for granted. It also made him remember to be on point with his insurence....and have a legit reason for why his car got cracked up if it turned out to be a "unusual" circumstance.
As the exit for Tynsboro passed by he checked his speed. The Highway was unsually clear and he was not quite in New Hampshire yet. That gave him a reason to bring his speed up to 70 and listen to his engine a little more closely in the silence. Out of habit he clicked on the radio and rolled the dice. WAAF was playing something by Linkin park. Spinning around to Frank he found them playing Rush, one of the more annoying bands he believed to have ever formed. MIX was playing its newest playlist with Adel leading the top. There was only so many times you could listen to a song before it began to be annoying. Sadly they had this song playing so much that it was now in "immedate station Jump" terriory. KISS actually turned up a goodie he would not have expected but given it was almost 9 pm he guessed someone was just waiting for the demographic to change. It was odd how some songs cut through the crap and got right to it. He did not know the lyrics yet so he just listened as The Script sang "Nothing" into the clear night air. His mind began to turn to Alyssa but he forced his head back on straight and just kept his eyes on the road. And had to remember to blink. It wasn't often but sometimes people noticed when he forgot to blink even when he was driving.


Last edited by William Powers on Fri Sep 30, 2011 1:56 am; edited 1 time in total
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William Powers

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PostSubject: Re: The leaving song   Thu Sep 29, 2011 7:57 pm

Driving in silence again had the annoying tendency to leave a man to his thoughts. Even with the engine being what it is as no one in their right mind has a shop open at 9 o'clock in the evening, the drone was not nearly loud enough to out shout his own damn head. He had thought to try and sing the last stretch of the trip out but found that it was a wasted venture. No song was going to alay the real doubts in his mind and Manchester was getting closer by the minute. He had no real idea how well they had their affairs in order after the shake-up. What if there was a gathering of hunters to ensure that the vaccume remain until they could finish the job? It also did not bode well that no one had been willing to let him know what exactly could clear out a city dominated by vampires. For all he knew this could be the end result of his stepping on the toes of Lowell's Sheriff. And that was a fellow that he knew better than to openly piss off. He only met her once and that had turned out to be one of the roughest nights in his unlife.
It was about three years into his new routine of being the one that help others make amends. Much to his surprise the person he was to help see the error of their ways that night was a Nos...and he had brought his own group of witnesses to ensure "the fair fight" remained fair. William could tell that there was a aura of bullshit about them and he did not even need his witness to tell him. But still, the fight had been agreed upon and he just could not back down when it came to squareing off with a Nosferatu. His flesh may heal faster now but his pride was a long suffering beast. And this might just be the thing to mend one of the wounds from before. The fight began simple enough. The Nos tried to take his head off on the first three swings. William dodged him easily and began to hammer away at him whenever the opening appeared. It must have come as a suprise that all that extra strength counted for jack if you couldn't hit your target. In a few short minutes the Haunt was on his knees, struggling back to his feet. William was about to make him tap out when out of left feild came a hammer blow the sent him a clear 10 feet and seeing more stars than an astronomer. It only took a second to clear his head before he realized that this just became a little more dangerous than first thought. One of the Three Nos Witnesses help the injured to his feet while the other two took up the flanks. William could not tell who threw the punch but he could bet these two knew a thing or two more than their friend about fighting.
And so a civil fight between two fair minded kindred became a battle royale that turned the neat lawn of Upper Shedd Park into a muddy rink in less than a minute flat. As it goes with most 4-to-1 contests, the opening seconds matter most. If a Skilled Fighter could get all 4 into something akin to a straight line and there by funnel their attacks into a single direction, such a fight would only be a matter of endurence and how forgiving fate was to be that night. But trying to wrangle 4 angry giants into a neat line while they were swinging for the fences...that called for something beyond skill that William did not have. In the end, the fight itself was quickly devolving into a sort of curbstomp combat with William about feel the first kick. It was not until he felt his fingers burn out of survival that he realized his hands just turned to claws and this was about to become something none of them planned for. The three Nos rushed in and William lined up his first victim when a blur out of the corner of his eye caught the first two in the chest and sent them flying backward. The third was about to jump on the newcomer when a something cocked back its hammer and the third froze where he stood.
"Some one owes this man and their primogen a very nice apology. And when I mean nice, You had better hope that they accept or not one of you will return home tonight." Of all the things to hear, William never expected his savior to be a woman. It took a little longer to sink in what kind of woman could slug back two unnamed Nos on a tear and make the other two freeze in place.
In short order the witness who arrived with William was fetched and the apology began. It was hard to make out but William though he detected a slight stammer of terror in the man's voice before he handed the phone back to the Sheriff. She listened and nodded before hanging up the phone and handing it back to the Witness. "Now for him." was all she said as she stepped back to not obscure the sight of William. That one took a little more time to work up to and even then it was something of backhanded apology. Given that William had not retracted his claws yet and the weapon, a very old but highly modified crossbow, were still trained at their chest, that swiftly corrected itself and became more earnest. The four of them gathered themselves and headed back into the near by graveyard. William waited until they were out of sight before he felt his fingers shrink ever so slightly back to normal.
"Thanks." Was all he managed to get out before the Sheriff about face and stalked past him back into the night. "Next time don't wait until your head is getting caved in, use what your sire gave you and put them in the ground first. This will NOT happen again." Fair enough, William thought. Not every day your life is saved by someone who you barely knew or would ever likely see again.
But that was back in Lowell. The chances of such a thing happening again would need a decimal and fresh set of eyes to count past the zeros on those odds. Not a comforting thought to be having this late in the game. Not by a country mile.
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William Powers

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PostSubject: Re: The leaving song   Fri Sep 30, 2011 3:16 am

Around 9:20pm and 50 cents later, William rolled to a stop along the roadside in what had to be Beford, New Hampshire. This close to his destination, William needed a moment to think. The cab of his car felt stuffy and while he had no real need to breath in a long while it was still uncomfortable as hell. Stepping out in the night air felt good against his skin. Looking back inside for the source of the heat, he groaned at himself as he saw he had forgotten to turn off the heater two nights ago when a cold front brought some much needed cold air back into New England. Now in the off postion William left the door open to help air out the heat a little faster. Leaning against his beat up Saturn he ran his fingers through his hair and force himself to breath if only to exhale another sigh of thought.
The long road stretched on into the night and out here in the sticks the ambient light from the city bouncing off the low cloud cover was absent. The traffic lights were few and far between here. A plus for a man used to the street by street lock down of Lowell and surrounding Chelmsford and Tweksbery. Manchester was a city and these lights were probably about to multiply like rabbits in the spring. He took another breath of the air and felt a small smile spread on his face. Another thing that was differnt out here was that air did not stink quite as bad as the city after the rain. Out this far he could smell the grass and fresh rain, further out he could smell the tree's and slightly beyond them the damp fur of woodland creatures. Another plus: More little fuzzy things to find and hunt down. And no real fear of draining a family pet that got off the leash. Looking around the country side he closed his eyes and rested his head on his hands. It was something of a self inflicted gut punch but he could almost see this place as the early morning hours. The fresh dew on the grass, the small animals running about the tall grass trying to find shelter for the day time. He spotted some buildings that looked like farms which meant that even before the sun came up those men and women would head out to work the fields. Even if only in his mind, activating his blood flow helped mimic the brief warmth of the light on his skin. Even though if he could not look upon it even in his mind the sunlight gave him a slight bit of comfort.
William opened his eyes when he felt something run down his face. Wiping at his cheek he was surpised to find that he had managed to make himself teary eyed for a minute. Looking back around he found himself still smiling. Even this early in the night he had yet to see another car come rolling down the lane. Good thing too. Someone caught him crying by the roadside, that would be one hell of a way start off a introduction to the new court. Climbing back into the car, he settled in and took one last moment to himself. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind like his master taught him. With no heart beat or breathing to help with the white noise of his own body, he began to tap out a slow beat with his fingers. Rolling his fingers back and forth, double tapping the ones on the end to start the rhythm over again. It took a lot longer this way but it was easier than forcing himself to breath or trying to keep his heart beating. Tried that once for a hour and wound up decismating a nest of rats when he did not realize he had burned through his stores.
'The scariest moment in life is the moment before the plunge.' his master always had said. Right now on this road was that lead in to the plunge. How long was he going to wait here before he lost his nerve and headed back? How long before this indecision broke free not just here but elsewhere in his being? How soon before he could not even bring himself to fight anymore? It was then that his Masters Best Advice came ringing in his ear almost as if the man was sitting right next to him now. "Damn it, William! Don't just stand there, MOVE!! You can't do anything in life if all you do is stand stock still. Act or just give up."
The drum beat on his dashboard changed in tempo and began to mimic the back beat of a song he had almost forgotten this late in the game. "Hey listen to my voice, if your making that choice tell all the girls and the boys. Either scream or rejoice, Let's make that noise, Either move or we will all be destoryed...." The engine roared to life and he dropped the car into gear as he pulled back onto the road and began to sprint down the last stretch of the road. "MOVE and show me what you can do, when you step into that circle and shake like we do. MOVE when you just can't take it and MOVE when you just feel like breaking it!" Hearing himself in the car as he wailed through the song, he put the last of his doubts to rest and found himself smiling with just a bit of his fang showing out the edge of his mouth. This was going to be one hell of interesting night.
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