Continuing from Afterburn: Prologue
Sarah Meyers had a problem with fire. No, she wasn't afraid of it nor did she tote around matches to satisfy any psychological pyromaniac desires, regardless what her therapist thinks. Sadly, her problem was much crazier than her poor therapist could comprehend. Sometimes, if she was angry or scared enough, things around her tended to catch on fire. Sometimes it just happened to be a small trashcan, but other times it could end up being an entire barn. Outside of the possibility of being delusional, which Sarah doesn't buy, she isn't the typical teenage girl. The barn fire forced her father to move the family to his hometown of Sanctuary, Rhode Island, hoping the family name and history would be strong enough to dampen the actions of his delinquent daughter. Now, Sarah has to start the game all over again. New school, more people to avoid, and try desperately to keep herself from setting anymore fires. Sarah soon finds out that some of the kids are not quite like the rest of the others, either. No, there is an old secret in this town that may provide Sarah with answers, but what she may find could be more terrifying than high school, and that's pretty scary.
“Sanctuary, Rhode Island has been around since the first immigrants and pilgrims came to America,” My mother said as she hung the clothes she just unpacked into my closet. “There’re still a lot of books and artifacts that your grandmother left with the house. Your father always says that the museums have been hounding her for the collection for years. He’d sell them himself if he wasn’t so afraid that your grandmother would come back to haunt him for doing it. They’ll all be yours someday, since she has dictated in her will that they stay with the family.”
I just smiled and nodded, but continued folding clothes and placing them in my dresser. This was my mother’s daily attempt to try not to alienate me. My new therapist, she apparently went to the same school as my former psychiatrist, told them that in anger and confusion over my actions, there comes alienation, a compulsion to separate oneself from the problem. The psychiatrist then promptly assured me that I was not the problem, just my actions, which is why my mother has barely stopped to breathe in the last two hours as she has helped me unpack my room. I already knew that this house, though it should really be called a mansion due to its massive size, used to belong to my grandmother and has been in the family for several generations. My mother was excitedly telling me about my family history, excited, because, for once, she had something to talk to me about and something to occupy her, my room, during today’s anti-alienation attempt. My ancestors, the Brannellys, fled their homeland of Ireland to escape persecution, yadda, yadda, yadda. The family line has always been known for the boys they produce. Rarely is there ever a girl. In fact, my grandmother was the first female in five generations, making myself an anomaly as well. The men in the family, including my father, tend to be enigmatic, but the females seem to take a more recluse route, as with my grandmother, and so shall it most likely be for me. This mansion may one day be my only refuge, just as it was for dear old granny.
I never actually met my grandmother. I always got the impression from my parents that she wasn’t quite sane, something they never seem to forget during my therapy sessions. Dad was obviously left the house after she died six years ago, but was too ambitious in Maryland to ever want to leave. That was, at least, until I set a barn on fire. I think my father is hoping that the names Meyers and Brannelly have enough presence to overshadow my faults, and he and my mother can go about normal lives even with a crazy daughter. If the house is supposed to stay in the family, then that means I’ll always have a home, even if I end up a total recluse. After the barn fire, I don’t see a whole lot of other options for my future. It is a dreaded fate, but being a freak and forced to be a new girl at a new school is far more dreadful.
I had tried to talk my parents into hiring a private tutor, playing the crazy card, but my therapist told them that my obsession with fire has only been a threat to myself. No one has ever been directly a target. Emersion into a scholastic environment will only encourage socialization of some kind and will be a great benefit to my self-esteem. Apparently, my therapist was homeschooled, because high school is never a benefit to anyone’s self-esteem. I am especially not looking forward to school, because my therapist is forcing me to make a friend. I am stuck with choosing the better option of making a friend having them find out that I am either a freak who will possibly endanger them or continue to remind my parents of the failures they are for producing such a child with destructive tendencies.
The key to this decision is that the therapist said she would consider reducing and eventually quitting all medications that I am currently prescribed. The fact that I don’t actually take any of the medications isn’t important. It’s just that my parents also think I take them as well as the school I will be attending. It’s always easier to stay under the radar unmedicated as opposed to medicated, and it will give some peace of mind to my parents.
I cut my mom’s ramblings off when I finished putting away everything in my dresser to ask if I could take a bike ride around town. Most of the time my mother knew that she or my father had to force me out of the house. Since the anti-alienation started, I’ve begun feeling quite smothered, and my only option was to leave the house in search of a secluded, quiet spot. She was all too eager to allow me to leave and even gave me twenty bucks to spend as I liked. I was zipping up my hoodie and about to leave my room when she stopped me.
“Sarah, sweetheart, this is a fresh start for you. Try to make the most of it and find a friend,” she said.
“Sure, Mom. I’ll try,” I replied, forcing a smile.
She walked up to me reaching out to touch my cheek, a ghost of worry hinting within her eyes. “You’ve grown up so much. I hardly remember how little you once were. Mmmm…it’s funny, but you look so much like your grandmother. You should look at her portrait when you get downstairs,” she smiled brightly, hiding her fear. She probably put my grandmother and me together, thinking, just as I had been, of my fate and the possibility of following in my grandmother’s footsteps.
“Too bad I couldn’t look like you, huh? That wouldn’t have been so bad,” I smirked but smiled as my mother gave me a shy smile that reached her golden brown eyes, and withdrew her hand from my face to gently brush her chocolate hair behind her ear. It was a rare and modest moment for my mother that only my father and I ever got to see. She usually spends most of her time as the perfect and glamorous housewife. I think it was tender moments such as these that made my father fall in love with her, probably because it brought the same side out of him.
“Um, thanks again, Mom, for helping me unpack,” I said tugging at the strings of my hood. “And, I really think that I can make a change here.”
“I’m glad to hear that, sweetheart,” she replied. “Have a good time.”
I nodded and made my way downstairs. I stopped in the foyer taking the time to look at my grandmother’s portrait. The plaque beneath it read, “Gabrielle Linette Brannelly Meyers.” A mouthful, I know, but my mother was right about me. I did look like my grandmother. She must have been somewhere in her early forties when this was painted. Her hair was the same deep auburn as mine. The painter even captured the same natural gold highlights I had. I did not, however, have the flipped out haircut that I can only describe as the precursor to the “Farrah” hair phenomenon, a fact that I am most pleased about. Though the hair did match the dark green one shoulder ensemble she wore in the painting, pretty saucy actually. Go Grams, get down with your bad self! There was one major difference between us, my eye color. My grandmother’s eyes were the same shade of green as her outfit, just like my father’s. Mine came from my mother. They were the same chocolate shade as hers, except mine had tiny golden flecks that highlighted them, much the same as the highlights in my hair. Other than that small flaw, I was staring at what I’d look like in my forties, and well, if I was stuck in 1974. That began to creep me out a bit, so I bid adieu to Gram Gabby and headed outside to grab my bike.
Fall was just about to settle on Sanctuary, but the summer warmth still had a lingering grip on the air. I was glad I chose to wear a tank top under my hoodie. The mansion had enough land surrounding it to give it a private and secluded feel. It was going to take me some time to get used to the neighborhood that immediately burst forth as I exited the gate. Our property sat at the end of a lane, easily the largest, but the other houses could never be considered small. I headed up the lane towards Main Street where most of the businesses in Sanctuary resided. Just as I was riding along a brick adorned wall that framed the front of a mansion a few places down, a black, sports convertible, carrying four teens about my age, barreled out of the driveway causing me to break hard and lose my balance, falling to the ground.
“You better watch where you’re going, girl. I could have easily got fifty points for tapping that fine ass of yours!” the blond driver cackled behind his sunglasses. I’ve been ridiculed long enough to know when to pick my battles. As offensive as he was acting, I opted to just ignore him, too concerned with my current state on the ground.
“Nice one, man!” his friend guffawed, the sun gleaming off of the coffee toned skin of his bald head. The guy even stood up, seatbelts apparently eluding him, to get a better look at me as I scrambled to right myself.
There was a well groomed blonde girl sitting in the back behind the gawker that tittered. Yes, she was actually tittering, well poised hand at mouth included. The other passenger in the back was the only one not smiling. Concern seemed to spread across his strong dark features.
“Are you alright?” he asked, brushing a hand back through his long, shaggy hair, while I was attempting to pull debris from my hair. His voice was deep and masculine, stealing my apt attention immediately. Partnered with his celebrity dark looks, it would be hard not to call the guy attractive. They were the same features that got me into my last mess and ended with a barn burning down. The guy did manage to convey a lot more concern in three words, than Paul Stanton ever managed in any of his conversations. That was probably because Paul was lying to me the entire time.
I decided to reply back to the guy since he was trying to be nice. Apparently, the tool in the driver’s seat thought that enough time had been spent and floored the accelerator leaving me hacking at the dust kicked up by the car. Well, the locals were sure friendly.
I found the drugstore easily enough. It was part of the largest building on Main Street next to the grocery store. I locked my bike to railing located in the front of the store and headed in. The inside was a mix of modern and old fashion. The owner seemed to prefer the original feel and touches of the drugstore with the maintained, oak woodwork throughout the space and only conceded to make new changes out of necessity like a small refrigeration and freezer section. I set off for the magazines and books to restock my supply. I may prefer to be antisocial, but I like to stay on top of gossip and pop culture, Movies and books have been my way of staying connected and even allow me to escape from the world that I created for myself. I tend to favor “weird” books or movies, as my father has dubbed them. They sometimes allow me to think that I’m not alone with my burden. The newest novel by my favorite author sat on the shelf beckoning me. It was a “weird” novel of course, but it was excitement for me. I had just picked it up and was reading the back flap when a male voice spoke from right behind my shoulder.
“Ah, the new Beckman, just what I was headed over here for,” the familiar voice said, causing me to jump. I turned around to find the attractive guy from the car. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he smiled apologetically, while he reached for his own copy. “Um, are you alright from earlier? Blair didn’t give you a whole lot of time to answer. He likes to show off, especially with that car.”
The guy could have said more things to me, but I was a little too engrossed in staring into his eyes. They were a startling ice blue color and intense. I had never seen anything like it before. Distracting just didn’t seem like a strong enough word. I had to swallow hard before I answered, “For the most part. Just a little startled.”
“Well that’s good,” he smiled. Yep, this guy was going to be dangerous. “You’re Sarah, right, living in the old Brannelly place? I’m Alton,” he raised his hand out to me.
I took it hesitantly, because I’m not impolite, when what he said before his name sunk in. I snatched my hand back and demanded, “How did you know my name or where I lived?
He smirked clearly amused. “Easy, I’m not some stalker. It’s just the disadvantage of living in a small town. News like the Meyers heir moving back is the juiciest gossip the people of this town have had to chew over for a while,” he said sheepishly, raising his hand to run it through his hair absentmindedly. “Plus, it was outside my house where you almost got ran over. My mom stopped by yesterday to welcome your family to the neighborhood, because we’re neighbors,” he emphasized.
“Well, that’s a relief,” I said, hopefully convincing. I would have been happier if he came off as a creep, easier to ignore. I turned myself back towards the book rack fingering for the last book I wanted. “Damn, no new Calloway novel. I’ll just have to get it online,” I sighed.
“You like Calloway, too?” Alton asked. Yep, he was still there. “I am forever being criticized for reading that kind of stuff, nice to know I’m not alone,” he smiled.
“Not favorites of my parents either. That’s why I usually leave Jane Austen books lying about,” I said as I clutched my merchandise to my chest.
He laughed, “I do the same thing with Hemingway. If you want to get anything remotely decent here, you have to go to the library or as you mentioned buy them online. The library stays pretty well stocked. The librarian is good people and a fan of Calloway.”
“That sounds like a plan, thanks,” I replied. “Nothing sounds better than getting lost in some stacks with a book. Thanks again, Alton. It was nice to meet you.” I began to head towards the front when the warm gentle touch of fingers gently pulled my hand back.
“Look, I can show you where the library is,” Alton offered.
“I’m sure that’s not necessary. It can’t be that hard to find,” I smiled and turned for the register. Alton was fast at my heels.
“It’s cool, really, I have a few things I’ve been meaning to pick up there,” he smiled again as I handed the guy behind the counter a twenty. I should say no. Every instinct in my body told me that I should remember what happened last time. There was just something in his eyes when he smiled at me. Something that compelled me to trust him over everything which is why I nodded him a yes and found myself walking with him out of the store, directly in front of a black sports convertible with three people in it.
“You sure do walk better than you ride a bike,” the arrogant voice of the guy, I now assumed was Blair, rang out from behind the steering. His friends in the car found it just as amusing. This type of guy should be locked away in a zoo, because they have nothing to offer normal civilization. This was the same type of guy that made up most of Paul Stanton’s friends. I just figured out too late that a lot can be said about a guy by who his friends are. Not wanting to show any vulnerability this time, I replied, “I guess? It is what we learn first, so I’m just going to assume you walk better than you drive.”
“You’d be surprised to find out that they’re actually pretty even,” Alton smirked.
Blair didn’t seem to enjoy being made fun of by me, so Alton’s comment really got under his skin. “Always a comedian, huh, Alton? Get in the car. We’re meeting the rest of the gang at Cliff Pointe,” he growled, but kept his gaze on me.
“Nah, man. You go on ahead. I’m heading to the library. I’ll catch up with you later,” Alton said cooly.
“Oh, I see,” Blair replied slowly eyeing me with a smirk.
“Blair, you don’t always have to be an ass. I’ll catch up with you later,” Alton sighed, clearly frustrated.
Blair took this opportunity to start the motor and floored the gas pedal like a predatory growl. Before he began to maneuver the car back on to the road, he said, “Your loss, little cousin. Guess I’ll have to keep Handley warm for you. Unless,” turning to address the girl in the back seat, “You want to go to the library, too?”
This caused the girl, Handley, to grin like the Cheshire Cat. The sun practically beamed off her teeth threatening to blind anyone in the vicinity. “No,” she said, “there wouldn’t be any fun in that. Sorry, Alton.”
I swore I heard Alton mumble “I bet you are” under his breathe.
“Let’s motor, Gilk. I’m hungry!” the behemoth in the passenger seat cried out.
Blair floored the car in reverse before snapping at the guy, “You’re always hungry Terry!” The car took no time disappearing around a corner. I was just glad that this last exit didn’t leave me with more dirt to get out of my hair. I headed for my bike unchaining it and pulling it to my side. I turned to Alton to ask which direction the library was, when he gracefully took my bike from me. He rolled slowly down the sidewalk towards what I hoped would be the library. Once I got my bearings back, I ran to catch up, attempting to smoothly sidle up beside him like I’d been there all along.
In honor of my Supernatural post, I believe that Your Love by The Outfield is more than called for this week! Enjoy!
Con time has come and gone. I am always left with regret. Regret for not buying tickets for the whole thing, and regret for not going to karaoke. Dammit, regret for not buying my tickets early enough. Lol! I some nosebleed seats. The whole adulting and responsibility thing always puts a damper on fun. There is also sadness, because this really is a blast for me. It’s this big Supernatural family reunion with all your favorite people and fellow fans that just get it.
I still made sure that I had fun, because Sunday was to be a special day for Supernatural fans. Our gracious host Richard Speight Jr. said it best. It was Father’s Day Sunday. That Sunday was to be the first ever appearance by Mr. Jeffrey Dean Morgan (JDM) who played our boys’ father, John Winchester. This was back in the early days of the show at a time when the thought of another ten years of a television show was pretty damn unthinkable. He was the first treat of the roster that day, and he pleased the fans as much as the fans pleased him.
JDM began his hour with a standing ovation and a declaration of wonderment of why it took him so long to join the convention band wagon. He answered questions graciously and enthusiastically. He even happily performed the odd request of reading a romance novel excerpt. That was some entertainment, I dare say. The house band even offered a little mood music, which really set the serious tone. JDM talked a lot about his life since Supernatural and his current projects. Most importantly he stuck to his desire to return to Supernatural, but added a new stipulation. He wanted to be there for an episode that Jensen Ackles had to direct. Who knows maybe it will happen someday. For a man that was only in maybe eight episodes, some of those the briefest of cameos, he sure has a soft spot for the show and his fellow actors Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki. It not only touched my heartstrings to hear him refer to Jensen and Jared as his boys, but the rest of the fans alike as well.
Being the oblivious person that I am pretty much most of the time, I was too intent on JDM to really laser focus in on the happenings around me. I did notice a group of people walk past and clocked the black sports jackets long enough to process that they were security. I just dismissed it thinking they were heading to throw some poor soul out on their ass, but no they were escorting Jensen and Jared to the stage to crash JDM’s panel. I had to laugh at this because, I honestly didn’t even see Jared. He was wearing a white sock hat and is freakishly tall enough to make that eye catching in a mass of black clad security guards. Didn’t even see him.
It was cute to see our boys interact with their television father. They were joking around with the familiarity of longtime friends, which was great to see. One of the most epic moments of the evening happened during the transition between JDM’s panel and the boys’ panel. Jensen called up Samantha Smith, who plays their mother, Mary Winchester, to the stage so that they could have a real Winchester family reunion. They even posed for an awkward family photo that I was sadly unable to get a picture of. It was still pretty fantastic though, and for a Supernatural fan, damn near religious.
Of course then it was Jensen and Jared’s panel, which went as well as it always does. Horseplay, joking, and wacky antics that pretty much only get them through maybe four total questions in an hour. I’m exaggerating, but I have seen it happen before. Not that we fans don’t love every bit of it. They told fun stories about their kids, awkward guilty pleasure moments in music, the hilarious time they got confused as a gay couple when they needed a hotel room to catch some zzz’s before their flight, you know the usual topics. One answer that I personally found interesting was Jared and Jensen talking about their own paranormal experiences. They have probably been asked about their own paranormal experiences a lot over the years, but this is the first I have heard them talk about it anywhere. True it was in the usual nonchalant, joking fashion that they both have become known for, but still relevant. Jared had an unusual romantic getaway to a hotel with his wife that left him laying down some ground rules with an unknown and potential entity. Jensen talked about the first house he bought and the ground rules he also laid down after his friendly Casper decided to open and close his front door. They ended their hour with a show of their hula-hooping skills, with all the hilarity and dignity they could muster. Jensen even came out and helped sing a cover of Your Love by The Outfield.
The last panel of the evening was for Tahmoh Penikett. I may have not jumped into the world of Battlestar Galatica yet, but I loved him in Dollhouse. BSG is on the to do list. I promise. When he showed up on Supernatural, and his stay with that ending, I was pretty upset. I really enjoy him as an actor, and even thought his character could have gone a long way. I am hoping they bring him back, because I would love to see him, but I think he’s character needs a real second chance. Of course someone asked him what it was like to work with Joss Whedon, which would have been something I would have asked him. His love and admiration of Mr. Whedon just solidified why we fans loved Whedon so much. Once a part of the Whedon family, always a part of the Whedon family.
It was another great year! We bought some stuff from the vendor’s room. I bought the revised edition of The Essential Supernatural: On the Road with Dean and Sam Winchester. This is a very fantastic book filled with all sorts of facts and mementos. My friend bought us a water tumbler as well as an adorable little handmade bag for herself from The Subtle Geek. I got to meet some new friends. Shout out to Michele and Chelsea. I also made time to share this fantastic Strawberry Shortcake made with a biscuit. I know, random, but it was so damn good.
This is pretty much my theme song. Sigh followed by an exhausted yawn. Huey Lewis and The News with Workin' For A Livin'.
I have been faithfully keeping up with the new Fox series Gotham. The premise for which is a show based on the city of Gotham that a young Bruce Wayne grows up in after the death of his parents. Since He is a child, there will be no Batman in this series. That is the biggest challenge of the show. How do you do a story about Gotham City, when the dark knight isn’t there to challenge the injustice and corruption? From the comics and various television shows outside of the Adam West series, Bruce Wayne’s origin story starts with the death of his parents. Their death not only symbolizes the end of a golden era for young Bruce, but in fact, Gotham City itself. The origins always point to the Waynes as a strong adversary against the crimes and immorality that always pushed against the city. The death was a means of removing that road block. Now we are left with a city where all of the biggest crime lords and villains have free reign.
This is why we have the character of Detective Jim Gordon, one of the last uncorrupted members of the entire legal and justice system. We know that Jim Gordon will eventually go on to be the Commissioner, but now we get to see why he earned it. We follow him through a city that is falling apart as he continues to try to make a difference in any way that he can, regardless of the odds stacked against him. He initially takes on the murder of Bruce’s parents, realizing quickly the deterioration of the justice system he represents. He has to come to terms with balancing what is more important. While he understands that justice can’t be done for the Waynes’ murder right now in this system, he doesn’t forget about it. He simply knows that he will have to put it aside as well as other cases he comes across until the city has the right people in power to give justice.
Detective Gordon should be the show focus, and he is half of the time. This is really what I expected when I heard about the show concept. That being said there are some big issues that I have with this show. The first one being Bruce Wayne. His story arc is unattached to the rest of the show. Yes, his parents death was necessary for the show, but all Batman fans know that Bruce Wayne will never get anywhere close to justice for the death of his parents until he puts on the bat suit. Since he isn’t even big enough for the Robin gear yet, then what is his purpose on the show? That is my nagging question. He hasn’t been given real purpose outside of growing up and maybe uncovering conspiracies within the family company.
Detective Gordon works with the police and is constantly tangling with the mob. We have characters within the mob and police that we follow and focus on outside of Jim. These scenarios make sense because these two entities continually clash throughout the show. Having side stories concerning Fish Mooney is not a stretch since she is involved with the mob and trying to take over. Her character is always used as an asset and a hindrance to Jim. Knowing more about her character is interesting, because her character is relevant in the current time line. Oswald Cobblepot is a budding power hungry contender in the crime world. We are watching him become the Penguin, and his role is just as interlaced to the main theme of the story as is Fish Mooney. His character continues to be relevant. Hell, even Edward Ngyma is a nice touch. He is the forensic specialist for Gordon’s precinct. Gordon is one of the few people who treats him with respect and values his work. It is a nice way of watching how his transformation into the Riddler will be with the significant role he plays with the police. He is a bit odd, but his character has never come off as mean or destructive.
Bruce Wayne and Alfred have yet to make their characters significant enough to the show as a whole that I care about them like I do Penguin and Riddler. The same can be said about Selina Kyle, outside of the initial murder of the Waynes, her role is played out way more than necessary at this point. If they are continued to be used on the show, then the show needs to fix it or stop it.
Also, can we quit with the damn cameos of who’s who in the Gotham universe. I get it. It’s fun, but if you want to continue this show for at least five seasons, then you need to keep some of those aces in your pockets to hand out later. I am hoping the show did this to ensure that it would be picked up for a second season, because hey, networks are quick at the chopping block. We have damn well seen every major Batman villain in this first season outside of Joker and Harley Quinn. The majority of them are kids, who can’t do a whole lot villainous things at the moment. Oh, wait, I forgot about Mr. Freeze. They haven’t done Mr. Freeze yet. Maybe they are holding out for an Arnie cameo. No. Stop it, Gotham. Stop it right now. You need to spread this out.
I am going to continue to watch this, because I am hoping the show will throw back some chamomile tea and calm the hell down. If that happens, and they align the focus well, then this will be an excellent show. Be the show that Gotham deserves…………I know, I’m stopping now.
Remember me mentioning poetry in 80's music? Can you argue with me when this song is playing? It is nothing but gorgeous, and damn do I love the hell out of it. The Church with Under the Milky Way.