|
[20 May 2007|11:59pm] |
AIDAN CHRISTOPHER REVERE
July 24, 1985 - May 20, 2011
|
|
| And Here Is Where My Story Ends |
[20 May 2007|11:50pm] |
“You can’t to that, that’s cheating,” Emmy insisted, shaking her head and glaring at the half-tiled Scrabble board. They hadn’t played a game in so long that it was almost nostalgic, spending a quiet evening in the house, gathered around the living room table. The house had ceased its terrible silence, full once again of the voices of friends.
( Proper Noun )
( Fortune Predicting )
( Light )
|
|
| Where Is My Head, Where Are My Bones |
[29 Jan 2007|10:08pm] |
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Aidan spoke aloud into the chilled night air.
Even after all the time that had passed, there was still the deeply pungent scent of charred wood lingering in the air around the remains of Our Lady of Sorrows, still spiced with the last remnants of the incense and reliquaries that had burned when the church was devoured in flame. He hadn’t been there to see it himself, already half-dead and dragged to a cemetery not far away, but he had heard the stories.
Elliot frowned in his whispy, intangible way.
“What’s the problem?” he asked. He’d led the man into dusty ditches, desert plains and even into a long-neglected dumpster, retrieving bits and pieces of what had once been Elliot Cappert.
Dropping a black canvas gym bag that had become the official carrying case for Pieces of Elliot into the dust, Aidan sighed, hands clasping behind his neck in a habitual gesture. Blowing out a long breath, he shook his head. He had enough bad memories in Searchlight that liked to revisit him in his dreams; he didn’t need to go exploring them in real time.
“Is it an important piece?” he asked hopefully. Surely, a foot would be useless. They had one already – a dried out husk stored in a Styrofoam container with a few other pieces beneath Aidan’s trailer – did they really require two? Or an arm. If they could find at least one arm, with a hand, they wouldn’t need both.
Hell. Even a head wouldn’t be all that necessary, if they had one measly hand for an ID. Damn dismemberment.
( Sifting Through the Ashes )
|
|
| Pushing the Season |
[26 Nov 2006|10:28pm] |
The water was running, the microwave was beeping and Aidan was on the phone, trying to keep the tiny cell at his ear while searching out a colander and closing the refrigerator door with his foot.
Thank god he had such a small kitchen.
“Ma… c’mon, isn’t it a little early for this?” he asked, frowning to himself.
( Ma )
|
|
|
[27 Oct 2006|10:59pm] |
Aidan didn’t have the best track record with taking chances. They had a good habit of going bad for him when he tried. There was the mini-mart. And the protection spell on Emmy. The church, with Mercy.
And, most glaringly obvious in recent days, the Fourth of July.
But he couldn’t resist them. It was a flaw, if nothing else. He had to learn to live with the fact that on occasion, he would just go momentarily insane and take a chance that would probably lead to ruin. It wasn’t all bad, though; if it weren’t for taking chances, he wouldn’t have thought to help Elliot. The ghost had been slipping in and out these past few days, seeming cheerful and certain he would soon hit on a piece of his body.
Aidan hoped that he would, but in the mean time, there was another stupid chance to be taken.
( Another Chance / Package for Destiny )
( In the Box )
|
|
| Pondering Destiny |
[22 Jun 2006|06:35pm] |
The more important developments in his life, Aidan realized, had been dictated almost always by a series of increasingly strange brunettes. Pondering this on a warm June afternoon stripping carpet out of his newly acquired trailer, he resolved to spend more time around blondes. And possibly an occasional stray redhead.
( Stained Carpet )
( Destiny & Dharma )
( Strange )
|
|
| Running Away |
[08 May 2006|10:18pm] |
There was a scent to it. The trees were beginning to bloom in brilliant green and the mist of a warm rain was fading on the pavement. Cars drove by with windows down and radios blaring, the talk and laughter of the evening fading in and out as they went. A hint of chlorine flavored the air, drifting in from the newly filled pool at Portage Park.
Summer was finally coming to Chicago.
( Café )
( Flashback )
( Coffee )
( Eddie )
|
|
| Christmas at Our House |
[29 Dec 2005|10:36pm] |
The offer to spend Christmas at home was one that Aidan might have refused some time before, but that particular year had been a bit too tumultuous to resist the slow comfort of a family Christmas. It was funny what a near-death experience could do for a guy. Aidan arrived home to find not only his mother tearfully happy to see him, but his father – who hadn’t spoken a word to him in years – smiling and clapping him on the back in his old ‘I’m too manly for a hug’ gesture.
The extended family dynamic had changed as well. Aidan wasn’t the black sheep anymore; that particular title had apparently switched to his cousin Ronnie, who was in jail for stealing a car the previous year. By the time the big extended family party rolled around – for there were far too many married cousins with in-law obligations to hold it on Christmas itself anymore – Aidan was flying high on a wave of good feeling. It was the type of family he had always wanted but never had.
The party that year was moved from Auntie Therese’s house to Aidan’s family home, into the large finished basement rec area. There were lights and wreaths and trees everywhere; his cousin Luke had snorted and remarked that “an elf must’ve thrown up in here” upon arriving. The mass of people crowded in, chattering and eating together, with occasional bursts of Christmas carols from the aunts as they put away a little too many of the margaritas his father was whipping up behind the bar and the constant undertone of the younger cousins begging to open their presents.
So much had changed. On the basement mantle was a hinged picture frame that held two photographs; Aidan’s last seminary school photo, and Adrian’s last high school photo. Aidan hadn’t seen anything like it in the house before. Everywhere he moved amongst the crowd, he had a voice calling a greeting or someone pulling him into a hug. He had always been the one sitting in the corner, just watching the excitement of the party that never touched him. This time, he was in the midst of it, and it was the best feeling he had ever experienced.
( Uncle Phil )
( Cousin Erica )
( And a Partridge in a Pear Tree )
|
|
| Friends in Low Places. |
[28 Jul 2004|12:30am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 tired |
] |
I get the feeling I'm taking a road very recently traveled - in both directions. I've been running into a lot of people I know, at every rest stop, and that's kinda creepy. People I haven't seen or heard of in years - some I was pretty sure had kicked the bucket a while back - are turning up everywhere. Some are heading the same way I am - running to the power source. Others are running FROM it.
Aidan headed out of the gas station mini-mart. It was late and he was tired but he had decided to keep driving until morning. He stopped for gas and something to eat just outside of Denver, grabbing coffee and a bag of chips, along with a can of tuna for Sam. He had just about reached his car, where Sam sat mewing in the passenger seat, when a familiar voice called to him.
( eddie )
Aidan climbed into the driver's seat of his car, popping the top on the can of tuna - he had been lucky to find a tin can with a tab for a change - and setting it on his suitcase for Sam, giving the scruffy cat a quick rumpling of his fur.
"Well that was interesting, wasn't it?" he asked Sam, who paused in his meal to give Aidan was looked to be a look of agreement.
Aidan thought for a moment, taking the lid off of his coffee and sipping at the steaming brew. "I doubt that Eddie's the only familiar face we'll be seeing, Sam," he said, and set the coffee into its holder. He had been awake for more than twenty-four hours by then, and set to the wheel, ready to drive until he found daylight.
|
|
