Art, Poem, etc. thread

[number1fan]

Jul 9, 2008 22:01:24 GMT -5 tabatha said:

thanks mellie and number1. i like me sometimes, but other times i don't. but i wonder how others see me, and it makes me realize i'm just who i am for a reason. make sense?

yes you make sense...and as you grow older (mature) you will like yourself more and more and finally come to the conclusion that you won't care what others think of you because all that will matter is what you think of yourself!
make sense?

[tabatha]

Yes, makes sense to me Number1. Just been bummed out of late.

[tabatha]

I've started a new story. It's hard for me to stick to one chapter, my mind wonders and I jump from chapter to chapter, except for my apolo story. Here's the first few paragraphs. I'm focusing mostly on the male character. A first for me. Hope you all don't mine me posting it here.

The lights were dimmer now, grass not as green. Sound hushed, except for one thing. A steady line of even breathing. White and red leather gloves gripped over a barrel. A navy blue Louiseville slugger. Cocked over one shoulder in a haughty fashion. Just swaying slightly back and forth, a timing thing yet to be done away with. A quick draw of air. Then, just as fast, exhaled. Eyes, dark and slumberous, had a slight squint. One foot pointed straight, while the other was pointed inward. Shoes the famous red, with gray. Pants all way down, nearly to the cleats. Under that, red socks, with stripes, blue and white. Up long lean, colt like legs, and slim yet hard hips, a matching red belt.
You could see the outline of the jersey being tucked in. The logo vivid, and proud. Just like the bird atop of the city’s name. Under that a gray and white shirt. A necklace, threaded with red, claimed to support healing properties. It was a gift. A gleaming batting helmet could not contain dark hair that flipped out at the sides and back. A tattoo adorned a bicep.
The face was that of a young man, boyish in street clothes, but mature beyond years in uniform. He had the weight of world sitting on his narrow shoulders. Didn’t you know? Chris Allen was the next big thing. With the wiry frame, speed, and the other awe factors. All he cared about was baseball. Family, God, and his car too. This was what he was born for, what he yearned for. Busted his tail since a young little leaguer for.
The sign was set, the pitcher nodded. Kicked up a leg for momentum, he hurled the ball. Two fingers gripped the seams, before release. Chris’s eyes lit up. Hoped for a nice fast ball, something over the plate. Instead, in slanted in action, trailed in, and below the knees. Knees that buckled. The ump slowly moved in position, and gave the sign for strike three.
“crap!” Chris muttered in a deep agitated tone. Before taking his prized bat, and breaking it over his thigh. The maple shattered, broken in two. He flung it, but not before the sharp edge sliced his forearm. Skin scraped away, blood welled and streamed.

not very patient, is he?

[jennaceeta25]

OMG! Tab, MORE!! I it! I seriously do!
I love the details of his uniform and his background.

[tabatha]

Eva, Chris’s mom, was at their apartment. He was beat after the game. He lingered in the showers, hoping to wash away the disappointment of another O for night. Wasn’t the case. He, Stan, Kyle, and Steve all piled into the car to set back to their place. One they all shared. Though Steve left on occasion to be with his beautiful fiancé. Kyle had a steady girlfriend. Stan was sweet, but didn’t date. Chris, well, he was so used to being busy, with the ‘eat, sleep, bleed’ baseball thing since highschool he didn’t bother with getting many dates. Why worry about it now. He didn’t have time for it.
“Goodness, Chris, would you look at that arm.” He obeyed, the only woman he did obey. She heard him mutter ‘crap’. Ah, his favorite word. She tsked. “Come on in boys. Try not to be in the way, don’t worry about the messes, I have four boys...and then you guys.” She went on, then went to look for something for her ‘baby’s’ arm.
He sat in the black leather couch. One of the nice things in the apartment. Needed a good couch for naps. And other things. Felt deflated. But that was soon forgotten as a biting burn seared his arm. “Mom!” He roared. It started to throb. He bit his fuller lower lip. Grimaced as it started to bubble. And remove the dried blood. Eva cooed, and soothed. Then wrapped it up and patted it dry.
“Tough night at the plate.” She said to him, knowing he’d tell her anything. She was after all, a baseball mom and wife, 22 years and running.
“And the field.” He muttered. Nights like this he wished he remained a pitcher. At least the damage would be done once in every five starts. But he remembered that aching, deep fatigue in his left elbow. It still smarted at him.
“Thinking about that elbow won’t make it go away.” He bowed his head. She turned soft inside. His dark curls added to his male beauty. Eva worried over him, hoping he’d find a good woman. One who’d not lust after his fame, job, money. But love him, take care of him, just be there, like she was with her own husband. “You weren’t reading the balls all that good Chris. You let your night at the plate affect your defense.” A sigh was the only response.
“I’m not helping by striking out. I need to hit, to get on base.” He stated.
“Right, but catching those routine fly outs helps on the defensive side.” That always struck a nerve with her son. He liked the offensive side of things. He wanted to be the hero. The guy everyone could count on. Chris had pride. So did she. “Well I’ll be in town. Staying at the hotel. Don’t worry about me, but I’m coming over to cook you boys a dinner. I’ll buy half, you guys pay the rest.” They all nodded eagerly.

[jennaceeta25]

very well written Tab.
How much did you write?
More please!

[tabatha]

i've got some more. but it's nap time...my sister woke me up...zzzz

[jennaceeta25]

Ok.
sleep tight!

[tabatha]

Chris was always early to the ball park. Something, Craig, his dad, taught him. The backseat of the gleaming BMW held most of the baseball equipment. Growing up poor, he longed for few flashy things. But BMW’s always caught his eye. They were sporty, speedy, and safe. Leather seats, amazing sound system. Not too bad on gas. When he signed after being drafted, and got that bonus, he bought one. He tried to buy one for his mom and dad too, but they told him no. so he got them a reliable car instead. It was nice not to have a junker. Though it was fun back in the day. But this was much better.
Shades covered dark slumberous eyes. A ball cap tamed some of the all ready frizzing hair. A modest watch on the left wrist. His fashion, or lack thereof, was simple. He never cared about clothes, as long as he liked it, and it fit, who the hell cared? Besides, he was saving some of that money to go on a trip. Somewhere near the beach. To chill out and enjoy the weather. He refused to go anywhere cold. He hated the cold. Living in the south, it was hot and humid year round.
He took the exit to the stadium. The car smooth as it rounded the corner. Took the usual parking spot, opened the trunk to get the rest out, he then tugged it towards the back entrance of the clubhouse. Chris made sure to bandage his arm. Just thinking about sliding around with that uncovered made him cringe. Besides why take any chances with some sort of infection?

He greeted one of the security guys at his post. “Hey Frank.” His southern whiskey like voice said.
“Hi, Chris. Early as usual. Have a good game. Oh, sign this for my wife, could you?” He smiled sheepishly. Chris took the ball and signed his name in big looping letters. Surprising the guard with the smooth writing. “Her name is Frannie, with and ie on the end.” Chris added her name with ease. “Thank you.”
“Don’t worry about it, how is she by the way?” Frank sighed. Chris’s heart sank.
“She’s doing better, but it took a long battle.” Frannie was in a wheel chair. Had been since a bad car accident that took her ability to walk at the blooming age of 22. Chris looked down at his own. A lump in his throat. She wrote him sometimes. Giving him courage. He felt privileged to have such a fan as her.
“Tell her I said hi.” He murmured. Wanted her to come to a game, or at least experience it in a fashion that would stay with her years to come. He’d ask about it later. Chris would want her to think he pitied her. Just the opposite.
“Will do Chris.” Frank patted his small shoulder. What a good kid. Wish there were more like him. Shame there wasn’t.

[jennaceeta25]

great start, Tab! Poor Frannie...
Keep on going, Tab! Love it!

[tabatha]

The sun beat down on the field. Warming everything it touched. There was a soft breeze making it’s way from east to west. It wouldn’t affect the outfield play much, since the wind would have to be blowing north to south. Flags danced lightly on the poles. Near the scoreboard. Like most, it was a green. And manual. Fred, the one who had the job, was thankful the weather was staying cool. He hated working back there in the baking Tennessee heat.
The outfielders took their bats, wrapped their arms around it, and stretched forward, then backwards. Chris seen stars as his muscle protested the movement. He’d ask for treatment after the game. He wasn’t sitting out this one. Steve pulled out a bag of seeds and popped a few in his mouth. He didn’t chew, but smoked. And was desperately trying to kick the habit. He and Sheila were trying to have a baby. So gum and seeds it was. Stan was throwing toss to Kyle back and forth. Antonio, the starting pitcher tossed a few to the catcher. Nate threw them back.
What few reporters that came to the game were now on their way. It was still odd for Chris. A part of him was bummed that there wasn’t more of them. Part of him was glad. He didn’t want everyone to witness his epic fail. And that’s what it felt like. Nothing was going right. Here he was, the future to that long traditioned team in the Midwest. And he couldn’t cut it in the minors. No wonder he got sent down. No matter if the others had better numbers, they had more chances. And then the never ending cycle of berating himself started yet again.
“Hey, Chris.” He heard the hitting coach yell at him. Danny was in his mid fifties, but looked good for his age. So his once dark hair had gray in it, Susie, his wife, liked it. Had a few wrinkles near his eyes, and around the mouth. Skin tan, yet smooth. Eyes sharp. An eerie shade of gray blue. “Got a minute?”
“Sure do.” He followed him to the batting cage. He was having him use the one inside. First base coach, Rand, usually did the tossing. But Danny was going to help out Chris this time. He himself was a switch hitter. Nothing like beating out your frustrations on a ball with a good solid bat.
Chris was like a young colt. Long thin legs, awkward gait at times. But he was built for speed. And could hit the long ball. He was trying to get him to hit more singles. And take more walks. “All right. Lets get you a bat.” He pulled out one of those two toned bats. Half tan, like the wood itself, the other navy. Danny didn’t like them much, but he figured it would suit Chris just fine. “Got some gloves.”
Chris pulled out a new pair. They would be tight, since he hadn’t broken them in yet. What better time to do so, then now. They were black with red. His dad used to switch gloves when he was in the minors. Old habits die hard. He pulled them on. Wriggled his fingers, felt them give just enough. Adjusted them at the wrist.
“All right, here we go.” He took spot where he would get the least damage should he get all pull happy. Only so much protection to be had behind the fence. He pulled out a ball, and tossed it. Right at the knees. Got a chuckle out of the look that crossed Chris’s face. “Just teasing you. Calm down, boy.” Hm, looking all serious. “Pull these, if you can.”
He began to toss again. From the letters to the mid thighs. “Don’t try too hard, just make contact. We’ll make progress, just not as fast as you’d like.” That seemed to ease him some. Good. They did that for a good thirty minutes. “That’ll do it. Nice job there boy. I won’t be able to do this on the road as much, but, here we’ll do it as often as you like.” Chris nodded. Then cringed. d**n shoulder was smarting off again. “Need anything?”
“An Aspirin.” Tylenol worked the best, but clouded his head some.
“Got it.” Danny jogged to go get a few with some water. And returned. “Here you go, low dosage though.” Chris nodded, dealt with their bitter taste, and took an extra long drink.
“Thanks, Dan.” He nodded in answer.

off to add to it. it's all i got for now.

[jennaceeta25]

very well written as always.
Poor Chris and his arm.
More, please.

[tabatha]

writing this part actually made me tear up.

Chris sat in the dugout. Trying not to fidget. This was becoming one long inning. Not that he minded. It meant the team was getting hits, or at least made the pitchers work for their outs. Right now, bottom of the third, two men on, two outs. Joe, the tall ex linebacker, took a pitch inside. He may be big, and look pretty intimidating, but deep down he was a nice guy. Unless, of course, you crossed him. He stood up for his guys, and his family. They were together so long that they were family. And just like family there were fights. Some nasty, some petty. Most of the time, they got over it.
Chris didn’t exactly do that with a newly traded infielder. In high school they wanted to see who was alpha. Bruce had the talent, and the money. And reminded Chris of it often. Chris, had talent, and a work ethic. It got you by. And you were better for it. That’s what his dad taught him. And if he ever had kids, he’d do the same. He felt a pain in his gut. At 21, his dad was married with him, and his brother on the way. His mom and dad had to mature fast, they got married, moved out of their families homes, and into their own. Eva would never even consider abortion. Sure, it was unplanned, and they were young. But nothing could take away the joy she felt when she was carrying Chris. It was so bittersweet. Chris adored his mom. Eva never complained. She had four boys. And one girl who was a still born. He never forgot the pain of learning about that. Little Annie. Eva’s middle name is Anne. She wanted a girl so badly. He remembered crying for her. In tears, so heartbroken. And more than anything, he wanted a baby girl. A baby girl named Annie. In fact, he had the name tattooed on his arm. A reminder. Of what could of been.

[jennaceeta25]

awh, I see how you teared up.
I absouly love it! Wonderful work, Tab.
More please!

[tabatha]

i don't like claire. she'll change later in the story...but for now, she's evil.

The team ended up winning 12-2. Chris went two for four. With a walk, and a foul tip strike out. But also two base hits. And a run scored. He was batting second. His slump caused the coach to rethink hitting him in the lead off spot. For the best. It took some getting used to.
Shoulder still hurting, he hissed between clenched teeth as he removed his uniform. And tossed it in a container to be washed. He’d hate to have that job. Washing, drying, and even ironing jerseys. Some guys were jerks and to have it a certain way. He didn’t give a hell. As long as it fit, it served its purpose.
There was a new bruise on his left hip. He banged it up sliding into second base. The middle infielder jammed his foot into it. crap, it hurt. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His hair damp. Sticky. He ached for a bath. But didn’t care at the moment. He just wanted to be clean. His hands had diamond dust and grass stains. His bandage dirty. He snarled and pulled it off. Looking for a safe place to dispose of it. And found it. The wound felt raw. Looked it too. He needed to clean it.
He walked under a shower head, turned on the water. Gasping as cold water turned a shade warmer. He sighed as the water trickled down his body and into the drain. Removing sweat and dirt with it. He quickly washed his hair. It could stick up all it wanted. Then started on his arm. Next the rest of his body. Then rinsed off. He wanted to stay all night like that, under the spray. And smell the bite of male soap and clean towels. But instead, he turned off the water, grabbed one of those towels. Dried his hair, then moved it along his torso. By the time he was back in the locker room he had it around his slim hips. Started to grab his street clothes. And heard a whistle.
Chris turned to see what the fuss was about, and rolled his eyes. His ex, Claire stood there. In white and pastels. Her dyed blond hair had curls. Face made up. Tanned skin looked smooth. “Well hello, boys.” She cooed. It made his stomach churn. She used to hold power over him. Until he caught her with Bruce. That done it.
“What’s the rush Chris? I’ve seen it all before.” She said in a bored voice. Just to bruise his ego. Good luck with that. She’d never be satisfied. He learned that long before. And she didn’t complain while they dated either.
“Claire, what are you doing here?” He asked. And nearly choked.
“For Bruce, who else?”
“Over here, babe.” She did that annoying giggle and quickly walked over to her latest beau.
Chris dressed in record time, and nearly swallowed his tongue. An older woman walked by in the door way. She had on a black skirt and a green top. And some black heeled shoes. Brown hair pulled back from her oval pixie face. It was enough to have him noticing. He hoped he’d see her again. Because he wasn’t likely to forget her. Besides, he liked the older ladies. They were mature. Know what they wanted. And were too busy to be worrying about their hair and nails.