Random Scene 1

Just a random scene idea i had and felt the need to write down. i have a few of these... its going to get stuck somewhere...eventually....

 

He was small of stature, standing just over 5’5’’, but not delicate by any means. His arms thick, and shoulders toned, clearly the hard earned achievement of frequent exercise. His face was thin, but hard and weathered for his age. Somehow this fifteen year old boy had the appearance of a man deep into his thirties. A small trail of short facial hair lined his stern mouth, and as he was standing there, his heavy eyebrows fell together between his eyes in a firm contemplative glare at the ground. He raised a hand and scratched his head, recently shaved, but still with the short stubble of hair. His hands were equally as fascinating as the rest of him, for they too were about the size of a young boy, but hand a certain quality that suggested they belonged to an older man who did heavy labor. He clasped his arms behind his back and looked up, with two intensely green eyes. Unlike the rest of this curious young man, his eyes were the one thing that looked like they truly belonged. They held behind them something that the rest of his manufactured physical appearance couldn’t conceal; a hurt child. It screamed out louder than any physical person’s voice ever could, and all one had to do to see it was to look. His clothing choices seemed to completely contradict it however, which made it even more unusual. He wore a tight black shirt, tucked into a pair of camouflage pants. A black military style belt synched the oversized pants to his small frame. Brown, well worn combat boots, with bright red laces completed the impersonal look that he seemed to desire. Suddenly his head tilted a bit and a knowing smirk worked it’s away across his face.

            “Write this down.” He said, with a little laugh. His eyes glistening.

            “Write what?”

            “Just write this down.” He replied, looking off at another point on the wall. Hesitantly she shuffled through her bag, pulled out one pen, only to find that it was missing a piece. She threw it back into her purse and ruffled around for another. She didn’t realize it, but as she was preoccupied with locating a writing implement, he stepped forward towards her, closing the distance quickly, making it mildly uncomfortable. She paused, now realizing that his presence was the reason the light had dimmed, and looked up. And with one sly flick of his wrist, so smooth it was hardly noticeable, he held between three delicate, yet sturdy fingers, a pen.

 She looked from the pen, to his face, and then back to the pen. She hesitantly took it into her own hand and uncapped it. Realizing she didn’t have any paper, she pushed back her shirt sleeve and exposed her pale forearm.

“Ok, now what am I writing down?” She said, the pen poised over her flesh.

“Listen very carefully.” He said, and began to mumble, turning and pacing a bit.

“You are aware I can not understand a single word you just said, yes?”

“Hmm?” he said, looking up from the point he was staring at on the ground, his eyebrows raised, as if he too could not hear what was being said.

“You’re mumbling.”

“Oh am I?” He said, questioning himself a bit, perhaps realizing that this was true, but also being mildly accusatory.

“Yes, Christopher, you are.” The use of his full name annoyed him a bit, and he took a few cool steps forward. He tilted his head and pushed his jaw forward.

“Well then I’ll make sure that I an-nun-ci-ate for you.” He said, taking a slight pause after every syllable in the word ‘annunciate’, a sarcastic remark. She rolled her eyes, and he chuckled. His laugh made her glare back at him, but this only caused another bout quiet laughter to erupt from him.

“Would you just shut up and tell me what I’m supposed to be writing down?”

“Keep your shirt on, will you?”

“Oh please, I know you wish I wouldn’t”

“Will you be quiet and write this down?” He said, pointing to her bare forearm.

“Well I would if someone would just tell me what I was writing!”

“You’re annoying, you know that?”

“Well isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black”

“Oh so you think you’re funny, little miss literary pants.”

“How about you stop stalling and just tell me so I can leave?” She said, exasperated. He sighed, smirking again.

“Ok, take two.” He said, taking in a breath. “As of late I have come to the conclusion that individuals like yourself…”

“Now you’re talking to fast. I don’t write that quickly.”

“Then I’ll slow down”

“Wait.” She said, peering down at what she had scribbled down.

“What?”

“How do you spell conclusion?” Layla looked up at him, perplexed, to find him giving her a look of frustration. He didn’t answer. “Well?”

“Come here.” He said, pointing to the ground in front of him.

“No.” She replied, disgusted. He rolled his eyes and walked over to her, and took the pen from her hand and held up her arm with his free hand. “Don’t touch me.” She said, trying to pull away her arm, but his grasp was strangely strong. Not tight in a hurtful way, but simply authoritative.

“Will you cool out?” He said, she glared back at him. “Since you are so completely inept, I’m going to write it down for you. She didn’t reply, just glared some more for the fact she was being called incompetent.

“Be that way.” He crossed out what she had written and began re writing. She put her top teeth over her bottom lip and bit down hard.

“What now?”        

“It tickles.” She said, trying to restrain a bit of laughter.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No, but just write it, will you?”

“You are ridiculous.” He said, continuing. When he finished, he released her arm. His grasp leaving white impressions of his fingers surrounded by a reddened tone. He recapped the pen and then handed it back to her. She flipped her wrist to look at the message, and her lips pursed in disappointment. It read ‘You, Layla, are a complete and utter fool. You think too much.’ Her arm fell to her side and she looked at him in disbelief. She tried to fight a small smile, but failed. She couldn’t help but to laugh. He gave a wink, turned, and started down the hall. Remembering she still had his pen, she threw it at the back of his head with full force. She missed a little, which was to be expected, but it still caused him to flinch. He turned around and looked at her, now walking backwards.

“You forgot your pen.” She said, innocently. Again, the smirk came across his face and he shook his head. Never skipping a step, he smoothly picked up the pen, placed it in his back pocket and shrugged on his nylon jacket.