AnyaKimlin
Confuddled
I'm juggling a lot of characters in this chapter (it will be chapter two if I keep it) and I'm not sure if it works or if I should nix it. This isn't ready for a full crit, I hope I've made it readable. I'm more wondering how confusing it is or not.
Brotherly love is best shared in silence especially when all the others are stinking drunk and you are stone cold sober. Sitting in his living room, Dr John Erasmus Black sipped his coffee. The compact space was littered with his four brothers, pizza boxes and beer bottles. They’d showed up an hour ago and his best move had been to put on the latest Star Trek film as since then they'd visited in companionable non verbal communication.
He put his cup down. It was the end of July and the room was stifling. It stank of sweaty bodies, beer and takeaway. Tim, the baby, lay on his side on the floor with a bean bag under him; his newly grafted wings were still giving him some discomfort. He was curled up with Floss, the Jack Russell. John stepped over him and went to open the window. He stayed there looking out at the pokey yard with its playhouse and rainbow of wheelie bins. It wasn’t much better with the window open, the air needed a good storm to clear it.
“You, OK, John?” With both his legs in plaster Pete could only ask rather than come over and hug like he would normally. He was on the sofa with his broken legs propped up on the coffee table and a pile of cushions.
“I’m fine.” He checked his watch. “Michael’s late.”
“He’s not quite eighteen. I’m sure he’s fine.”
“I worry. It’s only a month since...”
“Yeah, I know, pal. But he's probably being a brat.”
John yawned. “Gosh, I’m tired.” He hoped they’d take it as a hint and leave. They were here to keep him company but whilst he was often alone John was rarely lonely and he preferred his own company to a room full of people.
“I’m not surprised. You’ve got almost as many kids as I’ve got and you’re doing it on your own.” There was humour in Pete’s voice. “That’s the only advantage to having my legs in plaster – I’m not having to any of the night feeds for Moss. Poor Al is shattered.”
“Nobody has as many children as you have. Ten is ridiculous.” Matt sat on the sofa with her feet in Pete’s lap. For the evening, she had, as she said, dragged down. She wore a pink t-shirt and a pair of trackie bottoms instead of her usual designer frocks. In her one good hand she had a glass of wine. Her other arm was in a sling.
“I think we’re done.”
“So I should think so. When you start having grandchildren its time to stop popping out your own.”
"Larkspur and Pallas are both three."
"That's what I mean. They're three years older than your youngest. Ridiculous."
John grinned. When it came to children Matt and Pete were at opposite ends of the spectrum. Pete had started early and kept going whereas Matt had married late in life and permitted his wife to have one child who was not yet two months old. Matt had surprised everyone by proving to be a devoted dad.
“John. Can you get me some pizza?” Dan sat in the other armchair. He’d chosen to be moved out of his wheelchair so he was unable to get round. He gave John a lopsided smile and his one good eye twinkled. “Pretty, pretty please.”
John moved a small table near to Dan and placed a box with a meat feast pizza on it within his reach. “Another beer?”
“Ta. Sorry to use you as a slave but you’re more mobile than the other wounded soldiers.”
From the cooler John took out a bottle, opened it and gave it to him.
“That is because you two weren’t in the heat of battle. Bloody deserters.”
There were times when Matt could be beyond obnoxious. John’s fist itched to punch her in the face and recreate some of their epic teen battles. He was about to mutter something about running the medical team...
...Dan came to his rescue. “What was I supposed to do? Show up in the horse drawn wheelchair like some kind of crippled Boudicca?” His thumb jerked towards his chair. “It’s a state of the art beauty but it’s hardly armour plated. And without wonder boy...” He smiled at John and nodded. “...you three would be in much worse shape than you are. Like it or not he’s the least expendable of all of us. Anyone can fire a gun or stab a demon but he’s the only one that stitch us up when it goes wrong.”
Matt huffed, took a sip of wine. “This film's rather good.” She used her glass to indicate the screen. “Better than expected. It’s more a geeky Dan thing though.”
“You don’t have to be a genius to understand Star Trek.” After his accident as a teenager Dan had, had to learn to use words rather than his fists in sibling fights as a result he had become the Black family peacemaker. He was easy going and took a lot on the chin.
A cry disturbed the discussion Probably just in time before it descended into a brawl. John went into the hallway and skipped up the stairs two at a time. He opened his bedroom where two cots stood side-by-side at the end of his bed. His great-nephew, Little Tyke dozed in his. Since being rescued from his kidnappers he’d been a baby with attachment issues and he rarely cried anymore.
Camille red faced, screamed her head off in her cot. “Shh. Daddy’s here.” He picked her up. Her warm wet face snuggled into his neck. She didn’t stop crying and her whole body jerked and wriggled in his hands. Nightly issues with her demon half had become standard. He walked her up and down, trying to get her to stop. At the window he looked across the road to his father’s house. “Your grandpa’s still awake.” The light in the front room had stayed on later and later every night. “He’s missing Grandpa Wilf.” She wasn’t settling. “I think maybe you’re hungry.” He took Camille downstairs so she didn’t wake any of the other sleeping children and set her in her carseat whilst he prepared her bottle. “Oh you are an unhappy little one aren’t you, sweetheart?” He took a bottle out of the steriliser.
Matt appeared in the doorway with a glass of wine in her hands. “Pete sent me to ask if you want any help?”
“Not unless you plan on changing a nappy for me?”
“Oh God no. Not without a hazmat suit, respirator and tongs.” She grinned. “I was thinking more like moral support whilst she screams?”
As he said it John picked her up and she started to suck before he’d even put the bottle in her mouth. “I don’t think she’s going to be screaming much longer. It’s the demon in her I think. It wants to escape about this time and it makes her very angry. There’s some pig’s blood and brain in this formula. Smell her...” He held her out a bit.
“Do I have to?”
“She’s love demon not big eggy sulphur smelling roaring demon like Pete.”
Matt sniffed and she nodded. “Flowers. I’ve got a perfume like that. It cost me a fortune.”
“Can you open the living room door for me?” They went in and John sat down with Camille who ate hungrily. He kissed her forehead.
Tim propped himself up on his elbows. “She’s quite the charmer. The first baby that ever made my ovaries ache.”
John snorted. “Just don’t get too close and breathe your beer breath all over her.”
“I’m not that drunk.”
“Yes you are,” John, Matt and Pete said in harmony. Mischief got John, being surrounded by his brothers always made him feel younger. He moved his foot and knocked Tim’s elbow out from under so he went flat on his face.
“Ow!” His face had a mock injured look on it. “I’m going to tell Ian on you.” He stuck out his tongue then rubbed his head. “Although I’d probably end up getting a hiding for being drunk.” Tim crumpled, he went back on his face and he let out a sob. “I want my dad.”
Pete held out his arms. “Give me Camille.”
Given how tipsy Pete was John hesitated.
“I can’t get down there to help Tim and he needs someone. I’ve got ten children I can manage to wind a baby.” He took Camille with the ease only a father of a multitude could manage. “Hey, little one. You come give your Uncle Pete a cuddle.”
John got down on the floor. He propped himself up against the bean bag. He pulled Tim up gently until he held him tight against his chest and John cradled his head. “We all miss Wilf. He’s as much our dad as he is yours.” The tears soaked the front of John’s t-shirt and John felt the need to kiss the top of his head. For all his training he wasn’t at ease in these situations like Pete was.
Matt sat up. “So what we going to do about getting him out of her clutches? We're all falling apart without Wilf. Dad's grown a beard. There has to be a way.”
Brotherly love is best shared in silence especially when all the others are stinking drunk and you are stone cold sober. Sitting in his living room, Dr John Erasmus Black sipped his coffee. The compact space was littered with his four brothers, pizza boxes and beer bottles. They’d showed up an hour ago and his best move had been to put on the latest Star Trek film as since then they'd visited in companionable non verbal communication.
He put his cup down. It was the end of July and the room was stifling. It stank of sweaty bodies, beer and takeaway. Tim, the baby, lay on his side on the floor with a bean bag under him; his newly grafted wings were still giving him some discomfort. He was curled up with Floss, the Jack Russell. John stepped over him and went to open the window. He stayed there looking out at the pokey yard with its playhouse and rainbow of wheelie bins. It wasn’t much better with the window open, the air needed a good storm to clear it.
“You, OK, John?” With both his legs in plaster Pete could only ask rather than come over and hug like he would normally. He was on the sofa with his broken legs propped up on the coffee table and a pile of cushions.
“I’m fine.” He checked his watch. “Michael’s late.”
“He’s not quite eighteen. I’m sure he’s fine.”
“I worry. It’s only a month since...”
“Yeah, I know, pal. But he's probably being a brat.”
John yawned. “Gosh, I’m tired.” He hoped they’d take it as a hint and leave. They were here to keep him company but whilst he was often alone John was rarely lonely and he preferred his own company to a room full of people.
“I’m not surprised. You’ve got almost as many kids as I’ve got and you’re doing it on your own.” There was humour in Pete’s voice. “That’s the only advantage to having my legs in plaster – I’m not having to any of the night feeds for Moss. Poor Al is shattered.”
“Nobody has as many children as you have. Ten is ridiculous.” Matt sat on the sofa with her feet in Pete’s lap. For the evening, she had, as she said, dragged down. She wore a pink t-shirt and a pair of trackie bottoms instead of her usual designer frocks. In her one good hand she had a glass of wine. Her other arm was in a sling.
“I think we’re done.”
“So I should think so. When you start having grandchildren its time to stop popping out your own.”
"Larkspur and Pallas are both three."
"That's what I mean. They're three years older than your youngest. Ridiculous."
John grinned. When it came to children Matt and Pete were at opposite ends of the spectrum. Pete had started early and kept going whereas Matt had married late in life and permitted his wife to have one child who was not yet two months old. Matt had surprised everyone by proving to be a devoted dad.
“John. Can you get me some pizza?” Dan sat in the other armchair. He’d chosen to be moved out of his wheelchair so he was unable to get round. He gave John a lopsided smile and his one good eye twinkled. “Pretty, pretty please.”
John moved a small table near to Dan and placed a box with a meat feast pizza on it within his reach. “Another beer?”
“Ta. Sorry to use you as a slave but you’re more mobile than the other wounded soldiers.”
From the cooler John took out a bottle, opened it and gave it to him.
“That is because you two weren’t in the heat of battle. Bloody deserters.”
There were times when Matt could be beyond obnoxious. John’s fist itched to punch her in the face and recreate some of their epic teen battles. He was about to mutter something about running the medical team...
...Dan came to his rescue. “What was I supposed to do? Show up in the horse drawn wheelchair like some kind of crippled Boudicca?” His thumb jerked towards his chair. “It’s a state of the art beauty but it’s hardly armour plated. And without wonder boy...” He smiled at John and nodded. “...you three would be in much worse shape than you are. Like it or not he’s the least expendable of all of us. Anyone can fire a gun or stab a demon but he’s the only one that stitch us up when it goes wrong.”
Matt huffed, took a sip of wine. “This film's rather good.” She used her glass to indicate the screen. “Better than expected. It’s more a geeky Dan thing though.”
“You don’t have to be a genius to understand Star Trek.” After his accident as a teenager Dan had, had to learn to use words rather than his fists in sibling fights as a result he had become the Black family peacemaker. He was easy going and took a lot on the chin.
A cry disturbed the discussion Probably just in time before it descended into a brawl. John went into the hallway and skipped up the stairs two at a time. He opened his bedroom where two cots stood side-by-side at the end of his bed. His great-nephew, Little Tyke dozed in his. Since being rescued from his kidnappers he’d been a baby with attachment issues and he rarely cried anymore.
Camille red faced, screamed her head off in her cot. “Shh. Daddy’s here.” He picked her up. Her warm wet face snuggled into his neck. She didn’t stop crying and her whole body jerked and wriggled in his hands. Nightly issues with her demon half had become standard. He walked her up and down, trying to get her to stop. At the window he looked across the road to his father’s house. “Your grandpa’s still awake.” The light in the front room had stayed on later and later every night. “He’s missing Grandpa Wilf.” She wasn’t settling. “I think maybe you’re hungry.” He took Camille downstairs so she didn’t wake any of the other sleeping children and set her in her carseat whilst he prepared her bottle. “Oh you are an unhappy little one aren’t you, sweetheart?” He took a bottle out of the steriliser.
Matt appeared in the doorway with a glass of wine in her hands. “Pete sent me to ask if you want any help?”
“Not unless you plan on changing a nappy for me?”
“Oh God no. Not without a hazmat suit, respirator and tongs.” She grinned. “I was thinking more like moral support whilst she screams?”
As he said it John picked her up and she started to suck before he’d even put the bottle in her mouth. “I don’t think she’s going to be screaming much longer. It’s the demon in her I think. It wants to escape about this time and it makes her very angry. There’s some pig’s blood and brain in this formula. Smell her...” He held her out a bit.
“Do I have to?”
“She’s love demon not big eggy sulphur smelling roaring demon like Pete.”
Matt sniffed and she nodded. “Flowers. I’ve got a perfume like that. It cost me a fortune.”
“Can you open the living room door for me?” They went in and John sat down with Camille who ate hungrily. He kissed her forehead.
Tim propped himself up on his elbows. “She’s quite the charmer. The first baby that ever made my ovaries ache.”
John snorted. “Just don’t get too close and breathe your beer breath all over her.”
“I’m not that drunk.”
“Yes you are,” John, Matt and Pete said in harmony. Mischief got John, being surrounded by his brothers always made him feel younger. He moved his foot and knocked Tim’s elbow out from under so he went flat on his face.
“Ow!” His face had a mock injured look on it. “I’m going to tell Ian on you.” He stuck out his tongue then rubbed his head. “Although I’d probably end up getting a hiding for being drunk.” Tim crumpled, he went back on his face and he let out a sob. “I want my dad.”
Pete held out his arms. “Give me Camille.”
Given how tipsy Pete was John hesitated.
“I can’t get down there to help Tim and he needs someone. I’ve got ten children I can manage to wind a baby.” He took Camille with the ease only a father of a multitude could manage. “Hey, little one. You come give your Uncle Pete a cuddle.”
John got down on the floor. He propped himself up against the bean bag. He pulled Tim up gently until he held him tight against his chest and John cradled his head. “We all miss Wilf. He’s as much our dad as he is yours.” The tears soaked the front of John’s t-shirt and John felt the need to kiss the top of his head. For all his training he wasn’t at ease in these situations like Pete was.
Matt sat up. “So what we going to do about getting him out of her clutches? We're all falling apart without Wilf. Dad's grown a beard. There has to be a way.”
but he's a fairy who's been through a lot. He seems to be the problem in the scene and I think it's because I've not written him as much.
