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istanleyff7 · 3 years

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TOTP, Episode Aerith, Scene 1-4

Final Fantasy VII Remake: Traces of Two Pasts Episode 2- Aerith Scenes 1 - 4

A Light Novel by Kazushige Nojima Translated by Stanley (@istanleyff7 on twitter)

Scene 1

Aerith Gainsborough was on Shinra Ferry No. 8, and like her friends, she was wearing a Shinra's military uniform. It was her first time on the sea, as well as on a ship. The ferry connecting Junon and Costa De Sol was unexpectedly lavish. Enticed by curiosity, she looked around the ferry. However, the wealthy passengers were not welcoming towards troopers. Driven away by the cold stares, she arrived at the bottom ferry's cargo hold. The goods and luggage were all over the place. Someone was already there.

"Hey, I heard this on the deck a while ago..."

It was Tifa Lockhart, clad in Shinra's equipment. One won't expect it based on her tender smile, but she's an excellent martial artist. She is a reliable companion, equipped with her unstoppable punches, diverse kicks and jumping power. It hasn't been long since they met. However, Aerith believed that the bonds that were fostered by overcoming critical situations were genuine.

"When you feel that you're becoming seasick, it seems that it's good to chat as a distraction."

"I see. Tifa, are you feeling sick?"

"Nahhh, I'm good."

"Me, too."

The conversation ended there. Soon after, Aerith noticed that Tifa wanted to speak. She's reserved at times.

"You wanna talk? Let's talk."

"I'd like to hear about you this time."

"Me?"

"I'm a good listener. You see, I am always doing so at the bar."

She straightened her posture and pretended to polish a glass.

"Hello, it's your first time here, isn't it. Where are you from?"

"Wow."

Aerith was in admiration.

"Do you live around here?"

"Nope. I live in the slums of Sector 5."

"I see. Sector 5 seems pretty lively too. Were you born there too?"

"Well...." Aerith hesitates to say. "It's probably hard to explain."

Tifa immediately sensed it. She had already spoken about her being an Ancient and about her being the last surviving one.

"Sorry, I've gone too far."

"Oh, not at all." Aerith denies it immediately.

"I was just a little taken back. There isn't anyone who says that they want to hear it, nor is there anyone I thought of telling. Well, you wanna hear it? You wanna hear it?"

"If it's alright with you."

"I'm good! I'm good!"

Scene 2

Ifalna, Aerith's mother, was the final pure-blooded descendant of the Ancients as both of her parents were Ancients. She was under the protection of Shinra. To collaborate with the various studies concerning the Ancients, she lived on the upper floors of the Shinra building for a long time. Except for having the freedom to go outside, she had a room that provided almost everything. Aerith lived with her mother, but she couldn't remember the day when she first entered that room. Her first memory was in that room too. As everyone around was adults, the only person she could call a friend was Ronnie, the son of Ifalna's caretaker, Mariel, who brought him along. He was two years older than her.

It was the year 1992. Aerith was seven years old. Her head was suddenly flooded with images. She saw not only landscapes and people that she had never seen before, but also the figures of animals and monsters too. Aerith's Ancient powers were awakened. The inexperienced Aerith could not only control these images, but she also could not ignore them. She painted on papers, painted on the walls and showed it to anyone who wanted to see them. She thought that by doing so, these mysterious "visions" would disappear.

Scene 3

"I understand now that up till then, I was a hostage, and to protect me, my mother had no choice but to obey Hojo. But because Hojo also knew that I inherited the powers of the Ancients, he was overjoyed. Because he discovered a successor, he started doing terrible things to my mother, which he hadn't done until then. And just like that, my mother's health began to break down..."

Scene 4

Because of Hojo and his fellow staff, Ifalna's “working” hours increased. She was made to work for Hojo's studies every day from morning till evening. She was weak every day, and she could not walk on her own. There were also times when Hojo's staff pushed her back into the room in a wheelchair. At that time, Fuzz Hicks appeared and was dressed in a lab coat. Out of all the staff that Aerith knew, Fuzz had the largest physique. His eyes, nose and mouth were huge too. He was a very trustworthy figure who easily carried Ifalna with his massive arms.

When Fuzz came over, Ifalna begged him for medicine. She had a sad, sweet voice. Aerith did not say anything, but she did not like her mother whenever she made that kind of voice. She wanted her to be cured soon if she was ill.

“Fuzz, please…”

Aerith was almost sure that Fuzz knew it. He turned his back against the surveillance camera. He left a small bottle of medicine and a syringe, reminding her to keep it a secret from the other staff, and then he left. Ifalna used it on herself. Aerith could not see her mother sticking the needle in her arm, usually hiding in the sofa's shadow.

Aerith has little memory of the calendar dates of events regarding her childhood. It was one night when she was seven years old. She snuggled under her mother's bed as usual. It was a habit she had since she knew she was being monitored. She covered herself entirely with a blanket.

"Aerith. Want to go on an adventure?" Ifalna whispered from the other side of the blanket.

“What will we be doing?” She had a longing and a fear towards the outside world.

"I miss it."

Aerith did not understand what her mother was feeling. However, she sensed that tears were mixed in with her voice.

Aerith did not want to see her mother's face and got out from her blanket. Ifalna covered her face with her arm. The sleeves of her loose sleepwear were turned inside out. She had plenty of painful injection marks.

"If we head out, will you be okay, Mummy? You’re not going to take any more injections?"

“Yes. I think that will be so.”

"Well, let's go. But, I wonder if we can do it. The cameras are watching."

"Fuzz will help us out."

"Why will Fuzz help us out?"

There was a brief pause.

"Because he's a good person"

↞↠

Ifalna was taken out of the room as usual and returned in the evening. Fuzz was pushing the wheelchair.

"Yo Aerith," said Fuzz with his deep voice.

"The preparations are in order. I have prepared a secret house in the Sector 3 slums. You will also have a room. It's small, but we'll be leaving here."

He only told her that, and he left the room.

The emergency bell rang in the morning. Hurried by Ifalna, Aerith changed her clothes. It was clothes she had never seen before.

"Fuzz prepared these for us," Ifalna informed as she also wore her new clothes.

"Let's go."

"We will be seen."

"Don’t think like that."

Ifalna opened the door.

"It can't be. The lock is open. Why?"

The mother did not reply, took a deep breath and dashed out to the corridor. There was not a single person there. The bell signalling a crisis rang into their ears.

"Experimental monsters are on the loose. Staff from the Science Department evacuate to a safe location," the public announcement monotonously announced.

"That's rough."

Aerith was frightened. However, Ifalna ascertained the direction and walked. She was hobbling. Her condition was good only when she opened the door. Aerith took her hand and kept up with her.

They turned at the first corner of the corridor. No staff were seen, and there were also no signs of wandering monsters. Ifalna rushed over to a wagon carrying cleaning tools; a large metal box attached with tiny wheels, with a long brush and mop, stuck into it. She slid her hand on the side of the wagon, and a part slid open. It was empty. There were supposed to be various cleaning agents and tools in there. The shelves and dividers were also removed.

"We will be hiding in here. I'll head in first."

Ifalna bent her body and slipped into the box.

"Come, Aerith."

Invited by her voice, Aerith went inside. Ifalna pulled her knees towards herself to make space for her daughter. The petite Aerith quickly got in.

"We are going to be here for some time, so find yourself a comfortable position."

"Okay. This position is good."

"Got it."

After Ifalna closed the door, the wagon became pitch black. The public announcement remained unchanged and announced the experimental monsters’ escape. Before long, there was an indication that someone was nearby. The wagon vibrated lightly.

"It's me."

"I'm leaving it to you, Fuzz."

"We'll get going."

The wagon started to run.

"No matter what happens, do not make any noise."

"I'll be making a turn."

"It's an elevator. We will be transferring elevators several times."

From time to time, Fuzz could be heard. While in the elevator, Aerith became nauseous.

"Mummy, I don't feel good."

"It will be over soon."

When the free-falling feeling with the wagon was over, it started running again. As Fuzz mentioned, he will be transferring elevators several times.

"We're in a parking lot."

A different and unpleasant odour, unlike before, crept into the wagon.

"I'll be stopping soon. There'll be a truck, so hurry up and hop onto its cargo bed. I'll assist the both of you."

There was likely a change in the ground surface. A rattling sound came out from the wagon as it ran. The wagon soon stopped, and the door came open.

"Well then, hurry on."

Aerith was pulled out by the large hand that went into the wagon. He held Aerith up and placed her on the cargo bed as though she was an object.

"Move inside," Fuzz said as he also lightly placed Ifalna on the cargo bed.

"There are a few wooden crates. The innermost one is empty, so hide in it. Don't forget to close the lid. My cousin will be driving the truck. After arriving at the train station, the crate will be loaded onto the freight carrier. The cargo will eventually arrive at the Sector 4 slums station, so wait for me there."

"In the box?" Ifalna asked.

"Nope. I think you both will end up waiting for me somewhere at the station. I have a friend there, so follow her instructions. I've written the details in this letter," Fuzz said as he folded the paper and passed it to Ifalna.

"Where are you going, Fuzz?" Aerith asked.

"I'm heading back up to pretend to search for the both of you. If I get caught, it's going to cost me more than my neck."

The car horn sounded, and feelings of anxiety rushed in.

"Well, later then. There is food and water in the crate."

"How long do we have to wait for you to come?"

"At worst, till the last train," Fuzz said as he kissed the back of Ifalna's hand. Aerith was surprised and looked at Fuzz and her mother one after another.

"Fuzz, thank you."

The truck moved off before Ifalna could finish her words.

↞↠

The mother and daughter crawled on all fours on the swaying cargo bed and moved to the back. There were five wooden crates, one size larger than the cleaning tool wagon. After Ifalna found the empty box, she opened the lid and placed Aerith inside.

"Smelly..."

After leaving the room, they smelled various odours, but this was unbearable.

"Endure endure. We'll get used to it soon," Ifalna uttered as she also entered the crate.

Aerith did not overlook the frown on Ifalna's face.

"You think it stinks too, Mummy!"

Ifalna stuck out her tongue, and after gazing at each other, they laughed.

Aerith noticed the paper bag at the bottom of the crate. There was also a portable torchlight, a pouch of dried fruits and nuts, a hard bread and a water bottle when she looked inside it. There was a thin envelope, so she peeked inside and found that there was money in it.

"I have to close the lid."

After struggling to close the lid, the crate went pitch black.

"Next, uh ... let's read the letter."

In the dark, there was a dry sound of Ifalna unfolding the paper.

"Aerith, may you shine at this for me?"

"Okay."

She had difficulty operating it, but Aerith found the switch and turned on the torchlight. In the cutout of the darkness, her mother's pale face was there, and sweat was oozing out from her forehead.

"Mummy, are you alright?"

"I'll be reading it, so remember this too, Aerith."

It seems that she does not intend to reply to her question.

"Okay."

“The plate on which the Shinra Building is built and the slums are connected by rail. This crate will be carried into the freight train as it is. After the train runs for a while, the inside of the crate will glow red, and it will be glowing several times. But you don't have to worry about it, and do not mind it."

“What does this mean?”

"Fuzz... He thinks I don't know anything, and he is right about that."

"I'm scared."

"He wrote not to worry, let's believe him."

"Okay..."

"After a while, you will realise that the railroad tracks will be running on ground level rather than at a descent. You will soon hear the train stoppage announcement. Once you hear it, get out of the box. Next, stand by the doorway at the width of the carriage. The last stop is the Sector 4 Slums Station. The door will open when you arrive. Give the money in the envelope to the person who opened the door. It's a reward. Rest assured that she is a friend of mine, and follow her instructions and wait until I pick you both up..."

Ifalna violently coughed before she could read it to the end. It was a long-lasting cough. She turned her head away and covered her mouth with her arm.

"The light... turn it off..." Ifalna said so and violently coughed again.

↞↠

The truck eventually came to a stop. The truck bed shook, along with the rattling sound of the cargo hitting each other. They sensed people in the vicinity. The unloading began. The handling work was rough, and the crate was even thrown down to its' side.The mother and child endured through the shaking and pain in the crate. Ifalna embraced Aerith in her arms and held her daughter's leaking voice with her palm.

"We got to press on."

Silence came. They were relieved in that brief moment, then the loading operation on the freight train started.

"This is going to the Sector 4 Slums."

After hearing the muffled voice of a man, the box started to move. Again, the crate was handled recklessly. They used their hands, feet, and back to anchor their bodies down and clenched their teeth.

Shortly after that, the loading came to an end. There was a heavy, loud sound as the freight car door closed. After the train started running, it began to make a periodically repeating rattling noise. Eventually, the rhythmic sound becomes pleasant. Aerith dozed off and was half asleep. She woke up suddenly and looked at her mother's face. Ifalna's profile, dimly lit by the torch that was left on, was as beautiful as usual. In her line of sight, she noticed Ifalna smiling. Aerith was relieved, and she closed her eyes again. She finally slept.

In her dream, Aerith was painting.

When she woke up, Ifalna was coughing violently again.

"Are you alright, Mummy?"

"Yup... Give me a moment,"

Her voice got hoarse. Soon after adjusting her breathing —

"It looks like the descent stopped some time ago. The red lights are over too, so perhaps we'll be arriving soon?

"Ehhhh!? I wanted to see the red lights!"

"You said you were scared of it."

Ifalna laughed.

"I want to see it even if I'm scared."

At that moment, the inside of the crate was tainted red. The two were surprised and looked at each other.

"It turned red!"

"Yup! It turned red."

"I wasn't scared at all."

"Hey, Aerith. Let's eat something. We don't know when we'll be able to eat next."

Ifalna tore up the bread in the bag into pieces, handed it to Aerith, and ripped open the pouch of dried fruits.

"I wonder if this is like a picnic."

Aerith stuck the bread on her cheek.

"What's a picnic?" Ifalna asked.

After Aerith swallowed the bread —

"I heard from Ronnie. People would take along food, head out, walk a lot and eat. It seems that they don't eat anything sometimes. But Ronnie has never been to one before."

"Hmm. I really don't know, but walking seems to be fun."

Under the dim light shone from the portable torchlight placed on the floor, Ifalna offered her the remaining bread.

"Aren't you eating, Mummy?"

"I've already eaten. I ate it while you were sleeping with your mouth open."

She thought it was a lie. However, Aerith inflated her cheeks and showed her anger.

The train slowed down, and Ifalna coughed violently again. She shook her shoulders violently to hold down the cough.

"I'm really okay."

"Alright."

Aerith felt even more worried as she was reminded again that her mother was ok.

"Next station,... Four Slums. Sector Fo... lums," a muffled voice could be heard. It's the train stoppage announcement.

"Let's get out of the crate, shall we?"

They flipped the lid up. Ifalna comes out first and pulls Aerith up. Although the train was slowing down, the train carriage was rattling and shaking.

"This is fun!"

Aerith planted both her feet down to keep her balance. Ifalna held on to the crate to support herself.

“Aerith”

“Yup.”

“Never forget that feeling, okay?”

“Which feeling?”

“The feeling that you’ll enjoy anything.”

“Hmmm, I understand.”

“Hey hey, Aerith, look at this.” Ifalna pointed to the label on the crate which they were in.

"What's written on it?"

"From Shinra Company to Shinra Company. To be stored at Sector 4 Station. Dangerous goods. It is strictly prohibited to open it en-route..."

"We are dangerous goods?"

"That's rude."

Ifalna laughed, and the train slowed down again to a stop. Aerith lost her balance and clung to her mother as she almost fell over.

"Stay silent for a moment, Aerith. Leave this to me."

She looked up at her mother to see what she meant. She wasn't smiling anymore.

It was a young woman who opened the door. She had a pouty face and wore loose-fitting overalls. Her whole body was covered in dirt.

"Are you a friend of Fuzz?" Ifalna asked.

She nodded her head.

"Here you go. It's the reward."

Ifalna held out the envelope.

"I told him I didn't need it..."

“But…”

In the end, the lady snatched the envelope and pushed it into her back pocket.

"Get off. Quickly."

The carriage floor was well above the ground, a height that anyone would need help with. However, the lady was keeping watch of the surrounding people.

"Okay. I'll head down first."

Ifalna disappeared from Aerith's line of sight as she had jumped off. A painful moan could be heard.

"Mummy!"

"Hurry up," the lady's sharp voice pierced through their ears.

Ifalna apologised as she stood up, looking back at Aerith and reached out to her with both hands. Aerith was worried whether the woman in dirty clothing would get angry again, so she hurriedly jumped on her mother's body.That force caused Ifalna to stumble. She almost fell over while holding onto Aerith but managed to get her balance after taking a few steps.

"It's already chaotic at the top. Hide in the container yard until Fuzz picks you up," The woman pointed to a place stacked up with a lot of containers.

"When the sun sets, consignees will enter and exit the yard, so don't be discovered. That would be a pain."

"How much longer until the sun goes down?" Ifalna asked.

"In about four hours."

The woman tried to leave, but Ifalna called out to stop her and asked, "Which direction is Sector 3 in?"

The woman pointed out the direction with her chin, and as though she was escaping from them, she headed back to work.

"Mummy, let's hide quickly?"

"Yup. Let's do so."

The woman looked back once she reached the end of the train carriage and pointed towards the container yard. She was probably telling them to head over quickly.

"Aerith."

Ifalna held out her hand.

"From here on out, it's a real adventure. Let's go."

Ifalna held Aerith's hand.

"Mummy, why is your hand hot?"

"It's because I'm excited."

Ifalna laughed, and they started walking towards the rear of the carriage they had just got off. The carriage they were riding on was at the end. When they went around the carriage and crossed over the rail, they could see the station building. The woman from earlier disappeared into the station building. They saw some others in uniforms that looked like railway workers.

"Mummy, where are we going!?"

Aerith was extremely worried. However, her mother did not say a word. Instead, she held her hand firmly and started walking. They headed towards the wire mesh fence that was directly in front of them. There were a lot of people coming and going on the road over there.

"Mum!?"

"Let's climb over this fence."

"Ehhhh?"

The fence was about two metres tall.

"I can't."

"But we have to. Otherwise the adventure will be over."

In the end, they clung to the fence.

"Well, let's have fun!" Ifalna uttered.

Passers-by across the wired fence saw them, but nobody stopped walking.

"First, grab a high spot on the wired fence with both hands, and then put the toes of your left foot into the wired fence."

"Ohhh."

Aerith was confused, but she managed to be in the same position as her mother.

“Next, apply some strength to your hands and put your right toe into the fence.”

“Okay.”

"Once you can do that, move your right hand to grab the fence higher up. Then, also move your left hand to grab at the same height."

"Ah, I got it! Next will be my legs."

Aerith felt that she understood how to climb the wired fence.

"Mummy, look!"

While making a rattling noise, she climbed the fence in a blink of an eye.

"Nicely done, Aerith. Now from there, climb over."

"Hey! Get down from there!" came a piercing, angry voice.

Aerith saw a station employee running over.

"Mummy!"

Ifalna saw the station employee.

"Aerith, quickly get going!"

"You too, Mummy!"

Ifalna started climbing the wired fence. She was frustratingly slow.

"Hey!"

The station employee was getting close. The scene gathered the eyes of passers-by. At that moment...

"Hey! Hurry up!"

They looked over. A tall adult male was reaching out his hand. Aerith was confused. He was probably an acquaintance of her mother, but that should not be the case.

"Hey! Let's go!"

Before Aerith knew it, Ifalna got up to the same height and got over the fence. The station staff extended his hand out, but he barely could not reach her. Finally, Ifalna got over to the other side, reached out and grabbed the chest area of Aerith's clothes and pulled firmly. Aerith could not help but lose her balance and almost fell headfirst outwards of the fence. However, a pair of solid hands supported Aerith.

"You alright?" the man asked Ifalna while lowering Aerith to the ground.

However, Ifalna was coughing harshly and could not answer.

"Riding without a ticket is a serious crime!"

The station employee also started to climb the fence.

"It’s a serious crime which too many people commit, and you can't catch those culprits."

"Thank... you," Ifalna finally answered.

"You're welcome."

The man then struck the fingers of the station employee, who was grabbing the wired fence, with his fist. The station staff screamed away from the wired fence.

"Shinra bastard, damn y'all!"

After hailing abuse at the station employee, the man walked away as if nothing had happened. The station employee was panting heavily and glared at the man.

"Which direction is Sector 3 in?" Ifalna abruptly asked the station employee.

Not only the station employee but Aerith was also surprised at this.

"Who would teach you!" the station employee's angry voice froze Aerith's legs.

"Very well. Pardon us for our rudeness." Ifalna calmly apologised to the station employee

She then took Aerith's hand and left the station. When they looked back, the station employee was glaring at them. However, he was soon hidden in the flow of passers-by.

"Ahhh, that was heart-wrenching."

Ifalna coughed. When Aerith looked up, she saw the radiant face of her mother.

↞↠

There was no sign of anyone chasing them. The mother and daughter were moving away from the Sector Four Slums Station. Looking up, they could see the underside of the steel city. They were overwhelmed by the orderly combination of the steel-framed plate. Many people lived on it, there was the Shinra Building, and they were way high up on it. The scale was too large for Aerith to picture it well.

"Aerith, if you just look up, you'll fall."

"Okay."

Indeed, none of the surrounding commuters were looking up. It's a natural sight for slum dwellers. From time to time, Aerith could hear mysterious noises. She could also hear angry voices. And as expected, nobody cares.

"Mummy, who was the person that helped us at the station?"

"I think he's someone who hates Shinra. It seems that there are many of these kinds of people in the slums."

"How do you know about the slum, Mummy?"

"I asked a lot of people. For a day like this."

"Even on how to climb a wired fence?"

"Yup. If Professor Hojo weren't around, everyone would talk to me a lot."

"Actually, everyone is a nice person."

"I wonder. Everyone sympathised and cared for me, but no one helped me out. The truly good people are those that not only say that they'll help but also act on it."

"I wonder what Fuzz is doing."

Aerith waited for a while, but her mother didn't answer.

"Hey, Aerith, I want to rest for a bit. Shall we go over there?"

Ifalna pointed towards a small plaza in front of them. They saw several benches.

↞↠ You’re on page 24/142 of Aerith’s segment of the Light Novel. Next Scenes: Scenes 5-9 Back to Content Page (click/tap here)

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#ffvii ffviir ff7 ff7r ffviiln ff7rln

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greensparty · 3 years

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Remembering Jim Morrison and Mark Sandman

July 3 is a sad-iversary for music fans. On this day in 1971, The Doors singer Jim Morrison died at age 27 in Paris, France. On this same day in 1999, Morphine singer/bassist Mark Sandman died at age 46 in Palestrina, Italy.

Morrison

As a teen in the early 90s, I was into The Doors music, especially their 1967 debut and the soundtrack to Oliver Stone’s 1991 biopic The Doors, featuring a great performance from Val Kilmer as Morrison. Morrison often overshadows the other members of The Doors, which is strange because as a band they were bigger than the sum of their parts. While I think some of Morrison’s poetry is overrated, there’s no denying his sheer talent as a rock frontman! I listened to the band’s 1967 debut album today. Its in my vinyl record collection, right next to L.A. Woman, which is autographed by keyboardist Ray Manazarek (read about it here).

Sandman

I first became aware of Boston trio Morphine in the early 90s as a teen. I’d heard some of their stuff on WFNX. They got lumped in with 90s alt rock, but they were a horse of a different color: a heavy jazz and blues sound from bass, drums and sax, lead by Sandman’s unique voice. It was like a film noir score for a film that hadn’t been made yet. I saw the band at the 1997 WBCN River Rave, where they opened the show that day. They were a terrific live band! They appeared on several compilations including Safe + Sound and it was always cool to see them on TV, like on Conan O’Brien or 120 Minutes. When I heard about Sandman’s passing in the Summer of 1999, I was in college and heavy into Boston music. There were several tributes to Sandman, including naming Mark Sandman Square in front of The Middle East. Years later, I was honored to have Morphine saxophonist Dana Colley as a featured interviewee in my V66 documentary (Colley’s pre-Morphine band Three Colors were popular on V66). There have also been some good documentaries about Sandman (Cure for Pain: The Mark Sandman Story) and Morphine (Morphine: Journey of Dreams). I listened to The Best of Morphine 1992-1995 today, one of my favorite compilations.

#on this day in history #rip #jim morrison #1971 #mark sandman #1999 #the doors #morphine #dana colley #cure for pain #morphine: journey of dreams #music nerd #film geek

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duallygirl178 · 3 years

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Dearest O'Malley Introduction

Introduction

"My life had started on a conveyer belt at a Chevrolet manufacture in 1967. I was white as a cloud but glossy with shine. It was all at a factory in Arlington Texas united states. There are two Chevrolet factories located in the USA; one in Texas and the other in Bowling Green Kentucky. There is also one in Ingersoll Ontario, Canada and another in South Korea in current use. Usually Chevrolet Malibu cars were made in Hamtramck, Michigan and in Detroit as my ancestry goes back, but I was proudly born and raised in Texas. My mother came from Detroit and my father came from the longhorn state in Texas where the longhorn cattle roamed and nestled and also where the football team played in the kick-off at the stadium. When I was 12 months old, I was weaned, sold, and transported to Farmington New Mexico. There in that town, were some parts that reminded me of Texas...since I was born there that reminded me of my home that Farmington had so I didn't get homesick. I had one sister, and three older brothers that were shipped into different states of America that I never saw again. My lucky brother; Edgar ended up on Route 66, close to my mother's home state and he was living like a king. As again, I was rowdy and wild outside, but kind-hearted inside for a young stud from Texas. I sure didn't have the accent, but I fought like one and if they got fresh with a Texan, they'd better watch out. They were tough and bared no mercy on the sinners making fun of them.

My story had a unique pattern where it starts as fiction-like back-story and plays onto historical events and comes back to fiction again. Now, I know it sounds like an unusual autobiography, but I heard stories that were like that just like Eleanor Roosevelt before she met her husband or like President John F. Kennedy, but with a true story that it just had some parts missing and covered up because it was unbearable to put in the textbooks. it was so classified that even historians took it out so the teachers wouldn't tell their students about what those parts happened that got covered up like the happening where John was invited to an extraterrestrial space craft and the real assassination on him for sharing alien information that wasn't suppose to know. Right now, I'll lay out a summery of what's ahead in my story. First I'll start by coming from an abusive husband that would kick me, then going home to Gladas Kennedy to Joe Popplewell, to be driven around a while by Jan and Randy to bonding with Nathan and to making a match for him by meeting Natalie. There was a lot in my life that happened. I had many moments where I got attention from people in town that I was a nice car and it delighted me to see people interested in legends like myself to be out and rolling, unlike the cars made today that are made out of plastic and look nothing like the original cars like the chargers and the newest Malibu designs. When people passed me by, some of them would laugh, which could only mean one thing; they were blind and had no taste. I didn't usually give a care on the insult and I just drop it and walk away not caring to look into the bother. I did things years ago that I enjoyed and never looked back at because it was long gone that happened in the years, put behind me such as trouble with the law and moon shining in the woods and getting familiarized with marijuana laws in states that allow it like in Colorado. They call it medicine when it can make you high for days. Now, New Mexico was working on getting it legalized because hey, Colorado spreads the word that it can help cure and reduce pain. Durango had a lot of stoners that say they were impressed and why in the world does New Mexico need more tweekers? In the 60s, marijuana was a gateway into serenity rather if you were a hippie or just horsing around. It still was a thing then and will be now. There is a lot of advantages of growing up in the 1960s like dating, diners road racing, moon shining, cruising, groovy television shows that weren't terrible and the swap meets that weren't bad. I even got to see my first movie at the drive in with a female on a date called "American Graffiti" and I kissed in the back while settled in "park" so I could get a far away seat. My eyesight was far sighted and felt comfortable I the back. The love of my life which was a 67 impala treated me out for our second month anniversary of our relationship. I had remembered when I first met her at a random club where I was singing about my life just for her in 1968.

When the 1970s arrived, my friend; Impa went missing, Gonzo; my best friend, went AWOL Texas-ape crazy and we had the cops search the entire woods...nothing was found except Impa's keychain. So they gave up and I never saw Impa again but I wondered what happened to him. I went to my second home and my owner; Gladas drove me around to work, grocery stores, and church. I met some pretty bad and rotten eggs that needed the "Texas-boy treatment" and to be taught a lesson at Gladas's work which I took the honors of beating them up.

Then, I came to my third home in the 1980s where I met Joe and Carol; the grandparents of Nathan in whom I didn't meet Nathan until later right after Gladas stopped driving me. Joe took the charge of caring for me when I needed something. I'd start right up for him. I met Ian, a blue Buick under the carport which was my stall mate. Carol didn't like him, but Carol liked me because I was so big. I also had met Randy and Jan in a reunion and at the time, Jan was carrying a little bundle of joy when she came to see Joe. Unfortunately, I've never been a father because I've never met the right female that wanted ankle biters running around. When 1992 had come, Nathan was born and to get to know each other, Jan and Randy would take Nathan for a ride in me while Nathan was seated in the backseat. Jan thought I was a scary ride, but Randy thought I was pretty cool. Randy and I got along like beans and cornbread. For being borrowed until Jan got a new car, I enjoyed being the only car to be driven. So I was driven once again to work in and to the grocery stores.

When 2014 hit, Nathan was already handing out with girls. There was a basic one named Shay I didn't like her because she didn't appreciate classic cars as much as Nathan or Natalie did. She weighed 240 pounds and it was like carrying a giant boulder. I think she wasn't worth hanging around because she'd ditch Nathan to go hang out with Jerome. I had to do something to keep Nathan supported and so I kept my eyes on him. When shay was out of the picture, I had my picture taken in 2014 at a car show and again in 2015. Seeing the same brunette girl made me realize that she would be perfect for Nathan, but she seemed so shy. A few years later. I parked in the carport again and nowadays I had wished Nathan would open up and meet people like the one they used to in my day. However, it was all online. When Natalie came along, she changed everything in Nathan’s life forever. He didn't used to like watching movies, but now he does. I had never seen him so happy and it was all thanks to me who opened the door to make them a couple

Therefore, here's how my life started out as the way it is

#chevy #novel #writing #creative_writing

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karmamiakat · 4 years

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Did this last year and finally uploaded here.

This is another one of those things that popped into my head and I decided to roll with it. Now if you're just a Kingdom Hearts fan, you're probably wondering why Hatter and Hare look different from the movie versions, that's because they're not from the movie. They're from the live action TV series that aired on Disney Channel between 1992 - 1998 called "Adventures in Wonderland". In it, the Mad Hatter is Wonderland's chief inventor and Hare also invents things as well as occasionally do magic tricks. I made the outfits and designed them to be what they would possibly look like if they were playable characters that followed you, like Donald and Goofy follow Sora. Mad Hatter- I designed his outfit rather closely to what he wears in the series because I think his regular outfit would look fine. He's the knight much like Goofy. He doesn't like to use weapons so he uses shield and his clever gadgets to combat enemies. The pink shield in the middle is what Hatter's shield looks like in front and the shield is also a gadget. He presses a button and it can do something like punch something through a secret compartment or I dunno, shoot a laser or something. You never know what it will actually do and not sure if Hatter completely knows either. He can also throw his hat at enemies as well. His watch can do all sorts of things including hold various tools. The only thing it can't do is tell time. "There's no more room for the clock." which an homage to Spy Kids. It's a stupid movie but I've always thought the line and the gadget was clever. Eventually, I like to think Hatter tries to make his own keyblade but doesn't fully realize what makes a keyblade special. March Hare - I totally went with a different design than what he usually wears, mainly because if you ever saw his outfit or are a fan of the show, you'd know that Hare's outfit is crazy! It has all these colors and stripes which is kinda hard to transfer into 2D art and it's hard to imagine Hare wearing his usual suit to combat Heartless or any enemy for that matter. So I kinda simplified it a bit. He still has his usual colors and vest he wears underneath but made for a wizard look. I originally was going to make the outfit all stripes but I accidentally made his main jacket pink and decided it looked rather good on him! He wears a scarf and a moon hat that I pictured he just found either at his house or Hatter's. His wand is his regular magician wand that has a viny blue flower as well as a blue flower on his coat, a tribute to one episode where Hare invents beautiful blue flowers that causes Hatter to become allergic to it. Why is he wearing it now? Maybe he found away to enhance it so that Hatter wouldn't be allergic or he made a cure for his allergies. He's a rather smart hare! Dormouse I didn't draw yet but I do picture him to be a "Jiminey Cricket" character that lives in Hatter's pockets and hat. As for Alice, my idea is that Alice is chosen to be a keyblade wielder too and goes off on her own after both her world and Wonderland are attacked by Heartless. The Queen (whom actually cares for Alice in the series. All the residents in Wonderland are her friends in the TV show.) sends Hatter, Hare and Dormouse to search for her. They meet her and/or an OC (still debating) and go on adventures. Art and designs by me. Flower on Hare's shoulder, goggles and background by Pngtree. Logo found on Google. Characters and Kingdom Hearts belong to Disney and Squaresoft.

#adventures in wonderland #kingdom hearts #Disney #90s #90s kid

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scotianostra · 4 years

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Happy 77th Birthday to The Big Yin.

The comedian and actor Billy Connolly was born on November 24th 1942 in Glasgow, into a poor and not altogether stable family; he left school at age 15 and served as (among other jobs) a shipyard worker, a paratrooper in the Territorial Army, and a welder, the latter including a stint building an oil rig in Nigeria. Shortly after his return, Connolly quit working and, supporting himself with the money he'd saved, concentrated on learning to play folk music on the banjo and guitar. He became a regular on the Glasgow folk scene, instantly recognisable with his wild hair and beard; he drifted in and out of several bands before forming the Humblebums with guitarist Tam Harvey in 1965. Gerry Rafferty (later of Stealers Wheel and "Baker Street" fame) joined sometime later, and the group built a following with their live performances, which spotlighted Connolly's humorous between-song bits.

As Rafferty's songs became the Humblebums' primary musical focus, tensions among the members escalated; Harvey departed, and Connolly and Rafferty recorded two albums in 1969 and 1970 before disagreements over Connolly's concert comedy split them up in 1971.

Connolly soon began performing around Scotland and northern England, concentrating more on comedy but still mixing occasional folk songs into his act. 1972 saw the release of Connolly's first album, Live, and also the debut of The Great Northern Welly Boot Show, a musical play Connolly co-authored with poet Tom Buchan based on his experiences in the shipyards of Glasgow. The show was a hit in Edinburgh and London, and Polydor signed Connolly to a recording contract. In 1974, his Solo Concert album sparked protests from the Christian community over a rowdy routine in which Connolly described the Last Supper as if it had taken place in Glasgow; all the publicity only helped his career, and he was quickly becoming one of Scotland's favourite entertainers.

His 1974 follow-up album, Cop Yer Whack for This, became his biggest hit yet, going gold in the U.K., and the comic take on Tammy Wynette's "D.I.V.O.R.C.E." became a surprise number one hit single in 1975. That same year also saw Connolly put in star-making appearances on Michael Parkinson's chat show and at the London Palladium. He consolidated his success with a rigorous touring schedule over the next few years (including the massive Extravaganza tour of the U.K. in 1977), and continued to release comedy recordings on a regular basis into the '80s.

During the late '70s, Connolly began taking on acting roles in television and film productions, and tried his hand at playwriting, with somewhat less success. His first marriage dissolved in 1981 amidst an affair with comedienne Pamela Stephenson (whom he would later marry in 1989, the same year he shaved off his trademark shaggy beard). Taking up residence in London with Stephenson, Connolly continued his comedy career while taking on more theatrical and television roles.

Toward the late '80s, his appearances on American television became more frequent, which -- along with an unsold pilot for a Dead Poets Society series -- helped Connolly land a gig replacing Howard Hesseman on the high school honour-student comedy Head of the Class in 1990. His highest-profile American exposure was short-lived, however, as the series was cancelled after just one season; however, Connolly was back on American airwaves in early 1992, starring in the sitcom Billy. It too was cancelled after a short run, and after appearing in the film Indecent Proposal, Connolly returned to the U.K. (though he still officially resided in the Hollywood Hills).

In 1994, he hosted the acclaimed series World Tour of Scotland, which explored the flavor of contemporary Scottish culture. It proved so successful that Connolly hosted two further exploration-themed BBC series: 1995's A Scot in the Arctic, in which he spent a week on a remote northern Canadian island, and 1996's World Tour of Australia. Lent a new respectability, Connolly appeared in BBC Scotland's historical dramas Deacon Brodie and Mrs. Brown, the latter of which also featured Judi Dench and was released worldwide to much acclaim. n 2012, Connolly provided the voice of King Fergus in Pixar's Scotland-set animated film Brave, alongside fellow Scottish actors Kelly Macdonald, Craig Ferguson, Robbie Coltrane, Emma Thompson, and Kevin McKidd. Connolly appeared as Wilf in Quartet, a 2012 British comedy-drama film based on the play Quartet by Ronald Harwood, directed by Dustin Hoffman. In 2014, Connolly appeared in The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies as Dáin II Ironfoot, a great dwarf warrior and cousin of Thorin II Oakenshield. Sir Peter Jackson stated that "We could not think of a more fitting actor to play Dain Ironfoot, the staunchest and toughest of dwarves, than Billy Connolly, the Big Yin himself. With Billy stepping into this role, the cast of The Hobbit is now complete. We can't wait to see him on the battlefield."

In September 2013, Connolly underwent minor surgery for early-stage prostate cancer. The announcement also stated that he was being treated for the initial symptoms of Parkinson's disease.

Connolly had acknowledged earlier in 2013 that he had started to forget his lines during performances, adding later he was finding it hard to remember how to play his banjo.

In 2017for his 75th birthday Glasgow bestowed upon Billy three 50 foot murals , to add to the many murals in the city, in 2007 and again in 2010, he was voted the greatest stand-up comic on Channel 4's 100 Greatest Stand-Ups. He once again topped the list on Channel 5's Greatest Stand-Up Comedians, broadcast on New Year's Eve 2013.

Recently Billy has spoken about his Parkinson's saying that he now walks "unsteadily" and that his "hearing is going". He admits he would love to go back on stage but that "I don't know if I can do it with the state my mind is in." he appeared on Radio 2's Chris Evans show and told him "I don't think the way I used to," he went on..."....and steadily more symptoms come and it's incurable. It's not going to end. As a matter of fact, I had a Russian doctor in New York who said, 'You realise this is an incurable disease?'"And I said, 'You got to get a grip of yourself, stop calling it an incurable disease, say we have yet to find the cure. Give the guy a light in the tunnel.'"

Billy retired from his stage shows oficially last year, but he has kept himself busy, he hit our screens with a new series of his Great American Trail, which will follow him as he replicates the route taken by Scottish immigrants who came to America in the early 18th century. He also brought out a new book, called Tall Tales and Wee Stories, to launch it Billy's face was projected on to buildings in Galsgow and Edinburgh, as seen in the pics. The other pic is The Big Yins own art projected onto MacLellan's Castle in support of World Parkinson’s Day 2019. In November 2019, The Evening Times named Connolly as The Greatest Glaswegian as determined by a public poll.

In the independence referendum held in September 2014, Scotland voted to remain part of the United Kingdom. Connolly has previously expressed support for the union, this was no surprise to many, he has been friends with the Royal family for some years. However he said recently....

"Politically, [Scotland] is in extraordinary shape, It's beginning to stand alone, and they won't take crap anymore. They don't want to settle for whoever England votes for. Asked directly if he would support Scottish independence in the event of a second referendum, he replied: "I don't know. If Scotland would like it, I would like it."

I'll leave these poignant words of Billy's to end this post...Billy said he viewed old age as an adventure that was preparing him and "It doesn't frighten me - it's an adventure and it's quite interesting to see myself slipping away, as bits slip off and leave me, talents leave and attributes leave. "It's as if I'm being prepared for something, some other adventure, which is over the hill. I've got all this stuff to lose first, and then I'll be at the shadowy side of the hill doing the next episode in the spirit world."

#scotland #scottish #glaswegian #actor #comedian #writer #singer #musician

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alindakb · 4 years

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Letters to my Parents - Monday 16 November 1992 - by Alinda

Monday 16 November 1992

Dear mom and dad,

Things have gone from bad to worse. It seems everyone thinks I’m the heir of Slytherin. There’s this boy in Hufflepuff named Justin, he ran away from me one day when I wanted to great him in the library. And Ron and Neville don’t want to be seen with me either. None of the Gryffindors wants to by the way. I’m not allowed to eat at their table anymore. I tried to explain that it wasn’t me, but nobody seems to want to listen. Only Hermione and Blaise still hang out with me, and the girl Blaise has been hanging out with. Her name is Luna and she’s a bit crazy, but I like her. She doesn’t seem to care about what happened at all.

Hermione has been reading a lot the last two weeks. She feels stupid that she didn’t bring her copy of Hogwarts, A History, because all the copies of the library had been taken out by other students. She wants to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets. She even asked about it in our History of Magic class last Wednesday. It was a nice distraction during the boring class. Professor Binns just talks in his flat drone like an old vacuum cleaner until nearly everyone in the class is in a deep stupor. It was my favourite class at the end of last year because it was the one where Draco would play with my hand all class. And now the only thing I can do is daydream about how amazing that felt and how much I want it back. But he’s sitting with Pansy now. I think they are dating. That’s what everyone has been saying at least.

But like I was saying, Hermione disturbed the History of Magic class last Wednesday. Professor Binns was droning on about the International Warlock Convention of 1289 when she put up her hand and just asked point blank if the professor could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets. Well, that woke up everyone in the class. Professor Binns told us about the founders of the school and how Salazar Slytherin wanted to be more selective about the students who they would admit to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. It turned into this big argument between Slytherin and Gryffindor and Slytherin left the school. And the legend goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing, that could only be opened by his own true heir to unleash the horror within, to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic.

Everyone was very excited to learn more about this Chamber, but professor Binns said it was all nonsense. That the school had been searched and that no such chamber excited. I didn’t really listen to all the questions the other students threw at professor Binns. I was more worried about Draco’s pale face. He had been looking out the window since the chamber had been brought up. The whole subject made him feel uncomfortable and that worries me. What if he knows something about all this? What if he’s the one who wrote that message on the wall and petrified Mrs Norris? Would Draco really be capable of doing that?

And then this Friday Hermione was crying during breakfast. She was sitting far away from Ron and he kept giving her dirty looks. As soon as she left the Great Hall I followed her. I asked her what was wrong. She just shook her head, grabbed my arm and pulled me up the stairs. We walked a little until we reached the wall with the writing about the chamber on it. Filch still hasn’t found a way to get it off. Hermione pushed open the door to the girl's bathroom and pulled me inside. It was the gloomiest, most depressing bathroom I’ve ever set foot in. Hermione walked into one of the stalls and set down on the toilet seat. Before I could even ask her again what was going on, Moaning Myrtle floated towards me and told me that this was a girls bathroom and that I was not a girl. I told her that I was just there to help my friend. Myrtle took one look at Hermione and asked if she wanted to kill herself. And then she went on that she wanted to kill herself last Halloween after Peeves had been mean to her, but that she remembered that she was already dead. She let out a tragic sob and then dived into the toilet, splashing water all over the place. I could still hear her sobbing from the u-bend.

Hermione had calmed down a little by then and she was able to tell what had upset her so much. It seems that last night she and Ron had a fight. Ron doesn’t want her to be friends with me anymore. And when Hermione told him no, he broke up with her. I know they had also already been fighting on Wednesday, after class. Ron had said something bad about Slytherin and Hermione had defended me. But they love each other, so I had thought they would be okay. Clearly, I was wrong. Hermione is really sad about it all, but she said she had promised me that we would stick together in this place and she was not going to break that promise. I told her she didn’t have to, that I would be fine, but she wouldn’t hear it. I was her best friend and she knew I hadn’t done it, so there was no reason to stay away from me. And if Ron wanted to be a stubborn ass-hole (yes Hermione really used the word ass-hole, I couldn’t believe my ears) than she was better off without him. I’m really glad she said that, because I wouldn’t know what to do without her.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson is also a horror these days. Professor Lockhart hasn’t brought any more living creatures into class, but instead just reads passages from his books. He always wants to re-enact the more dramatic bits and I’m always the person that is picked to help him with these reconstructions. I’ve been forced to play a simple Transylvanian villager whom Lockhart had cured of a Babbling Curse, a yeti with a head cold, and a vampire who had been unable to eat anything except lettuce since he had met Professor Lockhart. And this Friday I was hauled to the front of the class to act like a werewolf. He made me howl and moan. Wow writing it down here makes it sound even worse than it already was. Nott and Crabbe have been re-enacting it all weekend.

And then this Saturday Draco had his first Quidditch match of the season. Slytherin was playing against Gryffindor. I know he was nervous in the way he snapped at everyone. And for the first time since I had made friends in Gryffindor, I didn’t at all feel conflicted about which team I should be cheering for. With me in the black books of the Gryffindors, there would be nobody giving me a hard time for cheering for Draco and our own house.

So as soon as it was eleven I made my way over to the Quidditch stadium and found a place at the back of one of the stands. And then the game started. Draco was good. Stealing the Quaffle from the Gryffindor team and scoring some good points. But then everything went wrong. One of the Bludgers kept aiming for him. Whenever the Beaters whacked it into a different direction it would just change direction in mid-air and shoot straight for Draco again. Draco had to manoeuvre hard to avoid it. I was glad Draco was so skilled on a broom, but I was scared for him.

I didn’t matter what the Beaters did, the Bludger wouldn’t stop attacking Draco and it became impossible for him to score any more points. With the Slytherin Beaters focused on keeping Draco safe, the other Chasers were having a hard time, giving Gryffindor the change to score a lot of points. And on top of that, it had also started to rain. It was clear someone had tampered with the Bludger and I wondered who would want to hurt Draco. What had he done to anyone lately? He just kept to himself most of the time. He even spends less time with Pansy these days. So maybe he’s not dating her.

Well, he probably is, since she was the first on the field when the Bludger got past the Beaters and Draco got hurt. It smashed onto his elbow and Draco broke his arm. He almost slid off his broom but was able to keep a grip with his legs. But the Bludger went for him again, going straight to his face and I was afraid Draco would die. He didn’t. He managed to swirl to the side, but it made him lose his balance and he fell to the ground. With a loud splattering thud, he hit the mud.

Draco just lay there on the ground, passed out with his arm in a weird angle next to him. I struggled not to cry, seeing him lying there like that. I wanted to go down and make sure he was okay so badly, but I know he wouldn’t have wanted me to, so I just stayed put and the back of the stand.

I was relieved when he woke up, but not when I saw that professor Lockhart was leaning over him and tried to heal his arm. I don’t know what happened, but I think he only made it worse. Pansy screamed at the professor for some minutes before she and Goyle escorted Draco to the hospital wing. It looked like his arm was all elastic when they moved him.

We did win the match by the way. In all the commotion nobody had noticed our Seeker catching the snitch, but he did and we won.

That evening I waited until everyone was asleep. I then took my invisibility cloak and made my way to the hospital wing. And you won’t believe what I saw when I got there. That silly house-elf Dobby was there with Draco. Draco was sitting upright in his bed, talking with the elf, like he knew him. I moved closer to them so I could hear what they were saying. Dobby was telling Draco that if he didn’t want to go home he should stop writing in the diary, that it was dangerous, that he would endanger Harry by doing so. Draco responded with that Dobby didn’t know what he was talking about, that he had no right to meddle and should go home. And then Dobby asked if Master Draco didn’t care about my welfare. But I never got to hear Draco answer the question because someone else was coming.

Dobby disappeared with a loud crack and Draco slumped back into bed, his watery grey eyes on the dark doorway to the hospital wing. I couldn’t look away from him, he looked sad and lost. Maybe he does still care about me.

Only moments later the door opened and headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall came in carrying what looked like a statue. Professor McGonagall went to get Madam Pomfrey. It seemed there had been another attack and this time it was Colin Creevey, the Gryffindor first year that used to follow me around at the beginning of the year. He was also petrified, still holding his little camera in his hand. When headmaster Dumbledore took it and opened the back a jet of steam hissed out of the camera. The inside of the camera was melted and I wondered what that mend. I still need to tell Hermione; maybe it will help her in figuring out what is attacking everyone.

And then headmaster Dumbledore said the worst. He said the Chamber of Secrets war indeed opened AGAIN!

I found Hermione the next morning in Myrtle’s bathroom. She’s avoiding the Great Hall and library since she and Ron broke up, so this had become our new place to hang out. She’s still heartbroken and says she understands now why I want to go and watch Draco play Quidditch all the time. I’m glad she finally understands, but I’m also sad about it. Now we are both heartbroken and sad all the time. Well, at least we still have each other.

I told Hermione about my trip to the hospital wing and how I found out that Draco knows Dobby, the house elf that had stopped my letters from arriving this summer. And how headmaster Dumbledore had said that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened before. We speculated about how a monster could get around unseen. Hermione thought it maybe was capable of making itself invisible or disguise itself just like Chameleon Ghouls. She had read about them somewhere and I joked she reads too much.

And now it’s Monday and the news of Colin’s attacked has spread through the entire school. The first years are moving around in tight-knit groups. Some of the older children are selling talismans, amulets and other protective devices. And everyone seems to believe I attached Colin. The rumour is that I was sick of him following me around with his camera. And somehow Crabbe had realised I hadn’t been in our dormitory when the attack happened, so he now also believes it was really me. He looks scared now, he’s not boasting anymore, but avoids me like everyone else. Even Blaise tries to speak to me as little as possible. Only Nott still thinks it’s one big joke that I’m the heir of Slytherin. I’m only a half-blood so I can’t possibly be the heir according to him.

I hope others will start listing to him soon because I hate how everyone looks at me like I’m some dangerous person.

Draco is okay now. He was released of the hospital wing on Sunday. Pansy is pampering him ever since. I don’t think he really likes it, he keeps pushing her hand away every time she tries to stroke his hair. His watery eyes from the hospital wing have been hunting me. I see them every time I close my eyes. They looked so hopeless and sad. I think something bad is going on with Draco. What if my dreams are coming true? What if he is ill? So ill he might die? Mom, I’m scared. How do I get him to talk to me, to tell me what is wrong? I need to help him, need to be with him.

I don’t know what to do.

I love you both, I’m going now. I just want to be alone right now.

I promise I will write again soon and I’m sure everything will be better by than. It has to be. I hate school like this. I hate my life if it’s always going to be like this.

Your Harry James Potter.

#letters to my parents #Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #bullied harry #letters #harry in slytherin #quidditch #hurt draco #dobby #AlindasStories #drarry

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kalluun-patangaroa · 5 years

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Now you see them: It's been a long time since there was a pop phenomenon like this - frenzied fans, rhapsodising reviews . . . Suede, it seems, might be the future of rock and roll. Then again, they might not.

The Independent

Sunday, 21 March 1993

Written by William Leith

A THURSDAY in March 1993, 7.20pm. The Top of The Pops presenter, Mark Franklin, introduces the latest video from Suede; the studio audience gives a youthful cheer. Brett Anderson, Suede's lead singer, appears on the walkway of a nasty tower block. He wears: no shirt, a tight black leather jacket, so short it reveals his midriff, black trousers low on the hips, so you can see his angular hip-bones, a cheap-looking necklace. He looks pale, almost ill, a figure from an early 1970s nightmare. His lank fringe covers his whole face.

The camera rushes down the scummy walkway into a dark room, where a coloured light flashes sickeningly; over the fuzzy guitar noise Anderson sings - or rather, he wails: 'Like his dad, you know that he's had / Animal nitrate in mind / Oh in your council home, he jumped on your bones / Now you're taking it time after time.'

This is 'Animal Nitrate', Suede's third single, a song about - what? Domestic violence, drugs, child abuse? It's thick with filthy undertones - and people are wild about it, just like they were wild about Suede's first two singles, 'The Drowners' and 'Metal Mickey', so wild that a concert-goer told me: 'It's not just girls who pack themselves at the front of the stage and try to rip Brett's clothes off - it's boys, and it's nothing to do with homosexuality . . . it's everybody, it's a mania.'

In his careless, Mick Jagger twang, which he has to a tee, Anderson tells me: 'Yeah, there's been a lot of hysteria at our gigs. But we're quite bored with playing live already. Once you have captivated a couple of thousand people, got them in the palm of your hand, and had them salivating . . . you don't really know where to go from there.'

They're still in their infancy, but Suede have snared the imagination of a certain type of rock fan - the sort of people who latch on to thin, angst-ridden white boys, the caste who worshipped the Smiths in the Eighties and David Bowie in the Seventies. Most important, Suede have become the darlings of the rock press. Melody Maker, the New Musical Express, Select, Q, Vox are wild about Suede, too; Suede have had more hype than anybody since the Smiths, or possibly even the Sex Pistols. The reviews are florid, poetic, half-crazed; they express the almost lascivious delight of journalists hungry for something to pin their hopes on. Suede, says the New Musical Express, are: 'The triumph of decadent aristo-foppery over prole pop.' They are 'Out there, so alone, brilliantly vulnerable' (Melody Maker). Or, as Select magazine put it: 'Never mind the bollocks. Here's Suede.' Needless to say, Suede's publicists, Phill Savidge and John Best, won the Music Week award for the best publicity campaign of 1992. The judges said they 'took Suede from obscurity to accolades to being hailed as the best band of the year'.

In the past year, Suede have been pictured on 19 magazine covers (including six Melody Maker covers, four New Musical Express covers, and, unprecedented for a band who have yet to release an album, the cover of Q magazine, which appeals to older fans). The Christmas edition of the NME, on which Brett Anderson posed as Sid Vicious, was the biggest-selling NME for a decade.

But Suede haven't yet released an album; their first three singles reached, respectively, 49, 17, and 7 in the chart. This is not the big-time yet; it's not U2 or Simply Red or the Cure. In an important sense, Suede haven't happened yet; they are in an interesting limbo. They might not happen. Lots of bands have got this far - or nearly this far - and no further; what happened to the Stone Roses, to Sigue Sigue Sputnik? They seemed like great ideas at the time.

What will Suede's fate be? Nobody knows; the world of rock music is too fickle to predict. When I met Brett Anderson, he said: 'I do want to have a place in history. I really do.'

'And what does it take for a band to have a place in history?'

'I think . . . three great records. Three great albums. But then again . . . the Sex Pistols did it with one, didn't they? I don't know. I don't know.'

BY THE end of 1992, when the height of Suede's chart success was still only a No 17 single, journalists were drooling over Brett Anderson. They practically had him on the couch. They loved his angst, his preoccupa-tion with himself, his ability to verbalise. He was perfect - he was everything they could possibly want.

In a typical exchange, he told Melody Maker: 'When it comes to writing, there's something to be said about being unhappy. I know I've been at my most creative when I've been sexually unsatisfied. When I'm sexually satisfied I write a load of old rubbish.'

Melody Maker: 'Are you sexually satisfied now?'

Anderson: 'Yeah.'

Melody Maker: 'So you're writing a load of old rubbish.'

Anderson: 'Yes, and it's a problem, because we're supposed to be doing our debut album . . .' He even had an exact position on sex, which was: 'I see myself as a bisexual man who's never had a homosexual experience.'

Perfect. As soon as they spotted Suede, the rock press knew they were on to something. The journalist who first wrote about Suede was John Mulvey of the NME. Suede were nobodies, playing third on the bill at the University of London Union. Mulvey says: 'They had charm, aggression, and . . . if not exactly eroticism, then something a little bit dangerous and exciting. Brett was a brilliant frontman. He has a certain edge to him which most people don't have, like Ned's Atomic Dustbin or Kingmaker, who are woefully bereft of that spice.'

'That spice' is something the rock journalist needs to find, if he is to make a living. Week in week out, you trudge to seedy bars and clubs, desperate to find something exciting. When I was a rock journalist in the Eighties, people would come into meetings every week, excited, with their discoveries. This is it! One week it was Stump, another week it was the Soup Dragons. We had the Shrubs, the June Brides, Sigue Sigue Sputnik, Half Man Half Biscuit; they were all the talk of the NME office for days, or weeks; sometimes they held out for longer, as long as there was still a chance of starting a cult, of getting people excited enough to rush out and buy the magazine. The strike-rate is very low; mostly, these discoveries fizzle out. So when the music press is faced with something that might go the whole way . . . it explodes.

'Here was a British band it was possible to get excited about,' says Danny Kelly, editor of Q magazine. 'The kids have to wait for the Smashing Pumpkins, or Hole, or Come, to come over from America. Whereas Suede is a very real, very immediate thing - they are around and playing.'

Kelly continues: 'In the last 10 years bands have been very apologetic; they've thrived on the attitude that 'we're the same as the audience'. Suede's attitude is 'we're brilliant; we're the stars, and you're the admirers'.'

Steve Sutherland, editor of the NME, says: 'When I first saw Suede, it was one of the few times I can honestly say I saw a band and I was utterly convinced they were brilliant. Often, you get a band with attitude, or a gimmick, or good songs, but seldom everything together.'

Kelly says: 'Also, Suede allude so knowingly to things that rock journalists are comfortable with - Seventies glam, Cockney Rebel, the Smiths, sexuality, asexuality, male violence. If there is a game to be played, they're playing it very well . . . they are skinny white boys speaking to other skinny white boys about their inadequacies.'

This week's NME cover story is the transcription of a meeting between Brett Anderson and David Bowie, who listened to a tape of Suede's first album sent to him by Steve Sutherland. Bowie told Sutherland: 'Of all the tapes you've ever sent me, this is the only one that I knew instantly was great.' The two singers, the 'Thin White Duke' and the star-in- waiting, chat about sex, drugs, Nazism and the ins and outs of being a pop star. Talking about Bowie's recent, relatively anonymous, period, Anderson says: 'It's funny that, when David started Tin Machine, it was the start of the cult of non-personality . . . maybe you were just feeling the times.' The article is headlined: 'One day, son, all this could be yours.

HE COULD, conceivably, be the next David Bowie, the next Mick Jagger. Or it could all come to nothing. Who knows? Brett Anderson sits with his feet up on the table, talking quietly about his chances. He wears: black corduroy trousers, cut low, a thin jumper with nothing underneath, shoes with holes in the soles, a reaction against his recent, more stylised image, which included an appearence in the NME with an elaborate shirt painted on his body.

'Are you conscious of the way you dress?'

'Yes . . . I'm feeling pressure on how to dress in that I don't like being made into a cartoon. There's a certain element of the music press that deals in comedy and turn you into a two-dimensional thing. The whole foppish thing is getting quite boring really.'

Sitting, as he is, in stardom's waiting-room, Anderson is hyper-aware of the traps he might fall into. Recently, for instance, a tabloid scoured his earlier interviews and found them to be larded with references to drugs. 'They said there was a backlash against Suede because parents were worried for their kids,' he says. 'The whole media's a huge dangerous web.'

'Do you ever think that all this might just be hype? That you might never go the whole way?'

Anderson, his knees drawn up to his chest, his head in his hands, says: 'The British music press are notorious for getting it wrong, for leading people up the garden path, because they just . . . they're too obsessed with the idea of things. But we never really felt it wouldn't happen. We knew we had a bit of substance over the style.'

Anderson believes he's going to be a star. He's happy with Suede's first album, Suede, on the cover of which is depicted a couple kissing - an ambiguous picture, which could be a man kissing a man, a man kissing a woman, or a woman kissing a woman. 'I chose it because of the ambiguity of it, but mostly because of the beauty of it,' he says.

He also says: 'There's an elegance and a beauty to our music that people haven't heard yet, and I want that to come across - the flow of it, the swoon, to a certain extent.'

Anderson comes from Haywards Heath, where he met Mat Osman, Suede's guitarist, at school. 'He's always known he was going to be a pop star. He was very arrogant,' says his childhood friend Alan Fisher.

'I'm quite glad that Haywards Heath was such an ugly place,' says Anderson. 'Being born on the outskirts of London, being able to just peer in but not quite see what's going on, is a really tantalising thing - it makes you hungry and gives you a certain amount of ambition.' He lived in a council house with his father, a taxi-driver, his mother, an artist, and his sister, who 'escaped' at the age of 15. 'I didn't go to any gigs,' he says. 'I didn't like all the bands that were around - Echo and the Bunnymen and all that stuff.' Anderson's taste was more obscure - he liked hard, punky bands - Crass, the Exploited.

After attending Manchester University for two weeks, Anderson moved to London with Osman. 'Before we met Bernard,' he says, 'it was just me and Mat in my bedroom with this rubbish drum machine, writing awful songs.' Then they auditioned for a guitarist, and chose Bernard Butler, who worried Anderson because he was 'too good'. They also auditioned for a drummer, and picked Simon Gilbert, who tells me over the telephone: 'I heard a tape of their early stuff. I said, this sounds really good, but they need a drummer.'

'And then it just . . . took off?'

'Oh, no. We played all the shitty gigs for a year and a half. We played the Amersham Arms in New Cross to one person.'

'Do you remember the moment when the rock press discovered you?'

'Yes. I remember the first few reviews. I'll get it out of my scrapbook if you like.'

BRETT Anderson, sitting precariously on the window-ledge, with his feet balanced on the radiator, talks about Suede's first album. His favourite song is 'So Young', a full-tilt anthem of slashing guitars and pained howling, a great song - which, like so much of Suede's material, recalls the prancing confidence of Marc Bolan, of early Bowie. 'It deals with the knife- edge of being young,' says Anderson, who is 25. 'There's the desperation and all the pitfalls, but then actually turning them into something hopeful and beautiful that looks forward and that isn't negative.

'It's a rejection of the traditional English character,' he goes on. 'A desire to push all the claustrophobia and tat and bits and pieces away, and stride into the future, which isn't the most original thought in the world, but maybe one of the most important.'

'So will success spoil you as a musician then? What if you get comfortable?'

'I don't really feel as though I could ever be comfortable.'

And now, a week before the release of Suede's first album, Anderson must go to a studio to meet Bernard Butler and write songs for the second album, tentatively scheduled for release early in the new year. He has also been thinking about the video for the next single. 'Up to now,' he says, 'we've been playing on the grittiness of it all. But I wanna take it all to a different level; I wanna use nature more. I've got this image in my head of these horses galloping, and then I'd have it superimposed, and make it a lot more beautiful, a lot more floating, a lot more . . . implied.'

Anderson gets down off the window-ledge. By the time the stuff he will write this afternoon is in the shops, he might be just a vague memory. Then again, meeting him is something I might boast about to my grandchildren. Who knows? Nobody, yet.

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