FelineEyes
Who Walks Through Walls
This is the second installment of a series of short stories that I'm trying to write. This is try number four, but I don't like it. It reads wrong, but I can't tell what's wrong. Can you?
Please?
“What are you after?” the old man sitting in the rocking chair asked the young man sitting on the porch step.
“A ship,” the young man replied, “A fast ship.”
The old man tapped his pipe on this arm of his chair and turned the phonograph up.
Good men shouldn’t have to die
And leave their families behind.
The older man leaned forward to get a better look his latest guest. The young man stared out into the jungle with his strange, lifeless, purple-blue eyes. He was dressed in a white pants and a light pink shirt, open at the collar. A white jacket was laid neatly on the porch next to him. His pale, blonde hair was cut in a short bowl cut and his snow white skin made for an odd contrast with the lush coloring of the tropics around him.
Good hearts shouldn’t be smashed
Scattering fragments akin to glass
The older man leaned back again. “That’s not what you’re after,” he said shortly.
The younger man picked a bit of nearly invisible lint off his collar. “No,” he replied quietly, “but that’s what I’m after from you.”
Good children shouldn’t pray at night
For less of their lives to be ground into dust
“Hm,” the older man said. “I can’t give this ship away for free, you know. I’ve got to have something in return.” The pipe tapped against the rocking chair. “Otherwise it’s bad for business, you understand.”
And good women shouldn’t have to sing
Be good to your daughters
Be good to your sons
Be good to your lover
Because come the sun
“I have two thousand credits with me,” the young man replied, “I will give you that now.”
The daughters are women
The sons they are men
And the lover you once held so close
Is gone with the sound of the gun
“And, when I have finished my work, I will give you a fully functional AJ-19 named the Requiem.”
The old man reached out and stopped the phonograph. He’d learned long ago not to ask ‘how’. He really didn’t need to know—it wasn’t his business. The less you knew, the less could be traced to you and the less was a fault of yours.
He’d also learned that men didn’t always pay up. He’d killed a few because of it. But an AJ-19…well, that was…something else.
The hand went up, “I see you’ve heard of my fondness for” he gestured to the phonograph, “…collectable items.”
Good men shouldn’t have to lie,
To cover the last of the tears
“Yes,” came the simple reply. “Many have.”
Good children shouldn’t have to go bad
To dream of the stars and the sky
“I presume that you have also heard of my…impatience with men who don’t deliver as promised,” the old man said.
“Yes,” The young man replied. “Who hasn’t?”
“She will not have a crew when you bring her to me, will she?”
“She will not,” the younger man said causally, “I have no need of her crew.”
And good women should never have to cry
The older man thought for a moment. “Might I send some men with you,” he asked, “to aid you in getting this ship to me?”
Be good to your daughters
Be good to your sons
Be good to your lover
Now it was the young man’s turn to think. “Yes,” he said at last. “I do not see where it will hinder me. But, if you wish for them to kill me before I have completed by mission, I would advise against it. I am not one to be challenged lightly.”
Because come the sun
The old man looked over the younger man again. There was a kind of innocence about him that seemed only surface deep. It…felt only surface deep. It was as if this young man had died as a child, and his body had simply not stopped living. Men like that were dangerous. “Yes,” the older man said calmly, “I see that. I will give you a fast ship for your credits and this AJ-19.”
The daughters are women
There was a short silence. “But,” the older man said, “I want to know something first.”
The sons are the men
“Very well,” the young man said, “what do you wish to know?”
And the lover you once held so close
“What are you after?” he asked once again.
Is no more…
“A man. His name is…” There was a moment of hesitation.
Gone with the sound of the gun
“Alon Soberno.”
Please?
“What are you after?” the old man sitting in the rocking chair asked the young man sitting on the porch step.
“A ship,” the young man replied, “A fast ship.”
The old man tapped his pipe on this arm of his chair and turned the phonograph up.
Good men shouldn’t have to die
And leave their families behind.
The older man leaned forward to get a better look his latest guest. The young man stared out into the jungle with his strange, lifeless, purple-blue eyes. He was dressed in a white pants and a light pink shirt, open at the collar. A white jacket was laid neatly on the porch next to him. His pale, blonde hair was cut in a short bowl cut and his snow white skin made for an odd contrast with the lush coloring of the tropics around him.
Good hearts shouldn’t be smashed
Scattering fragments akin to glass
The older man leaned back again. “That’s not what you’re after,” he said shortly.
The younger man picked a bit of nearly invisible lint off his collar. “No,” he replied quietly, “but that’s what I’m after from you.”
Good children shouldn’t pray at night
For less of their lives to be ground into dust
“Hm,” the older man said. “I can’t give this ship away for free, you know. I’ve got to have something in return.” The pipe tapped against the rocking chair. “Otherwise it’s bad for business, you understand.”
And good women shouldn’t have to sing
Be good to your daughters
Be good to your sons
Be good to your lover
Because come the sun
“I have two thousand credits with me,” the young man replied, “I will give you that now.”
The daughters are women
The sons they are men
And the lover you once held so close
Is gone with the sound of the gun
“And, when I have finished my work, I will give you a fully functional AJ-19 named the Requiem.”
The old man reached out and stopped the phonograph. He’d learned long ago not to ask ‘how’. He really didn’t need to know—it wasn’t his business. The less you knew, the less could be traced to you and the less was a fault of yours.
He’d also learned that men didn’t always pay up. He’d killed a few because of it. But an AJ-19…well, that was…something else.
The hand went up, “I see you’ve heard of my fondness for” he gestured to the phonograph, “…collectable items.”
Good men shouldn’t have to lie,
To cover the last of the tears
“Yes,” came the simple reply. “Many have.”
Good children shouldn’t have to go bad
To dream of the stars and the sky
“I presume that you have also heard of my…impatience with men who don’t deliver as promised,” the old man said.
“Yes,” The young man replied. “Who hasn’t?”
“She will not have a crew when you bring her to me, will she?”
“She will not,” the younger man said causally, “I have no need of her crew.”
And good women should never have to cry
The older man thought for a moment. “Might I send some men with you,” he asked, “to aid you in getting this ship to me?”
Be good to your daughters
Be good to your sons
Be good to your lover
Now it was the young man’s turn to think. “Yes,” he said at last. “I do not see where it will hinder me. But, if you wish for them to kill me before I have completed by mission, I would advise against it. I am not one to be challenged lightly.”
Because come the sun
The old man looked over the younger man again. There was a kind of innocence about him that seemed only surface deep. It…felt only surface deep. It was as if this young man had died as a child, and his body had simply not stopped living. Men like that were dangerous. “Yes,” the older man said calmly, “I see that. I will give you a fast ship for your credits and this AJ-19.”
The daughters are women
There was a short silence. “But,” the older man said, “I want to know something first.”
The sons are the men
“Very well,” the young man said, “what do you wish to know?”
And the lover you once held so close
“What are you after?” he asked once again.
Is no more…
“A man. His name is…” There was a moment of hesitation.
Gone with the sound of the gun
“Alon Soberno.”
