Post by SomethingAboutTheStars on Jan 21, 2012 11:51:12 GMT -5
Hey everyone, post neglect because of a head crisis. (: Sorry about that. Comments are appreciated. Thank you to walktherainbows, greysonluvsme13, greysongal, greysongal97?, and Shinichi17CP
Here's the link to my board...I don't think it's necessarily to put all the chapters here now that they're all in the same place. (:
thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=stara
Also, dudes, be sure to check out "Hanging by a Thread," by dear friend walktherainbows! She's a great writer and that story deserves more reads and comments! I'll help you. Here's the first chapter: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=hanging&action=display&thread=831 Now, enjoy and thank walktherainbows. (;
Pretty short chappie. Hope you enjoy. I apologize for the slowness. And dudes, THAT IS NOT A REAL NUMBER. At least, I don't know the number, so please, don't call it! xD
Someone’s knocking on my door. I rub my eyes and lift my face off the laptop keyboard. “Come in,” I moan.
“The door’s locked,” I hear Stephen say.
I groan and get up, rubbing my eyes more and run my hand through my tangled hair.
“I’m coming,” I sigh and unlocked the door.
“Morning, sunshine,” Stephen laughs when I open the door. I yawn at him.
“Good gosh girl, what did you do last night?”
“Searched account numbers and such.”
“Well, not the answer I was figuring…but, how late?”
“Late,” I assure him. “Want some….” I look behind me. I stumble over my words as I try and offer something to him. He grabs my shoulders.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” he laughs. “I’m okay. I’ll get something back at the café.”
“Oh! Speaking of which….” I go over to my kitchen drawer and remove the knives. They clatter on the counter. “Thanks for the tea yesterday,” I push a few wadded up bills towards him.
“Laurie, I don’t want those,” he groans.
“But I—“ I protest.
“No,” he says firmly.
“Stephen?” I ask quickly.
“Yeah?” he replies. He’s distracted, browsing the knives I’ve laid out on the counter.
I walk over to him and stand next to him. Slowly, I put the knives back in the drawer. And I stick the money into his pocket. He doesn’t notice. “Why didn’t you give me the box earlier?”
“I didn’t know it was for you.”
“That’s a lie,” I tell him. “Why wouldn’t you have given it to me earlier?”
“You never ordered Earl Grey,” Stephen smiled.
I freeze and think about this. I guess this is true. I usually have the free water or the free hot chocolate that Stephen gives me. I look at Stephen’s wrist. His jacket is pushed up so it’s bunched at his elbows. I can see the bracelets that decorate his hands. “I still owe you,” I say quietly.
“It’s really not needed,” Stephen assures.
“It is,” I argue.
Stephen turns grabs my arm. “Hey, chill. If you want to work, I’ll let you. But I’ll start putting beads on your hands.”
I hit his shoulder. It’s not that hard, I don’t want it to be, but I try and pack all my annoyance into it.
I shoved Stephen out the door about half an hour ago, but I’m not regretting it. I’m angry at him; I think it might be because he didn’t give me the puzzle earlier. But he’s right, I never did ask for Earl Grey, I never asked for anything more than ice in a cup.
I’m still mad. He knew that when I ordered Earl Grey, he had to give it to me. So it wasn’t like he was at a conflict of who to give the box to. Which makes me mad. He had even come on the whole dang goose chase with me and still didn’t put two and two together that the box was a part of the code. Which makes me furious. I suppose he didn’t use his brilliant brain and catch it, but honestly, it’s been two years. I’ve been searching to crack this code for two freaking years. And he’s Stephen, he could’ve easily, easily give it to me. There’s been two birthdays, two Christmases, and I really would much rather take the box than a mug of minty hot chocolate. And no offence to Stephen, but that completely ticks me off.
After about twenty minutes of ranting, I push Stephen from my head. I make a cup of simple green tea, sweetened with honey. And I try and figure out what the number means. I don’t think they’re books, like the first code was. There are no titles and there are no authors listed to help me. It’s not an account number, obviously.
And I decide that I should call the numbers. I take my cell phone and dial the number.
405 – 118 – 9011.
It could be a phone number.
I hope it’s a phone number. It better be a phone number. I didn’t have this spurt of inspiration to get stuck for another two years. It takes a long time but I finally press the little green phone. The call connects. Then, a beep before it turns to dialing.
I’m shocked when I hear who answers.
Here's the link to my board...I don't think it's necessarily to put all the chapters here now that they're all in the same place. (:
thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=stara
Also, dudes, be sure to check out "Hanging by a Thread," by dear friend walktherainbows! She's a great writer and that story deserves more reads and comments! I'll help you. Here's the first chapter: thegreysonchanceforum.com/index.cgi?board=hanging&action=display&thread=831 Now, enjoy and thank walktherainbows. (;
Pretty short chappie. Hope you enjoy. I apologize for the slowness. And dudes, THAT IS NOT A REAL NUMBER. At least, I don't know the number, so please, don't call it! xD
Chapter 11
Lorence
Someone’s knocking on my door. I rub my eyes and lift my face off the laptop keyboard. “Come in,” I moan.
“The door’s locked,” I hear Stephen say.
I groan and get up, rubbing my eyes more and run my hand through my tangled hair.
“I’m coming,” I sigh and unlocked the door.
“Morning, sunshine,” Stephen laughs when I open the door. I yawn at him.
“Good gosh girl, what did you do last night?”
“Searched account numbers and such.”
“Well, not the answer I was figuring…but, how late?”
“Late,” I assure him. “Want some….” I look behind me. I stumble over my words as I try and offer something to him. He grabs my shoulders.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” he laughs. “I’m okay. I’ll get something back at the café.”
“Oh! Speaking of which….” I go over to my kitchen drawer and remove the knives. They clatter on the counter. “Thanks for the tea yesterday,” I push a few wadded up bills towards him.
“Laurie, I don’t want those,” he groans.
“But I—“ I protest.
“No,” he says firmly.
“Stephen?” I ask quickly.
“Yeah?” he replies. He’s distracted, browsing the knives I’ve laid out on the counter.
I walk over to him and stand next to him. Slowly, I put the knives back in the drawer. And I stick the money into his pocket. He doesn’t notice. “Why didn’t you give me the box earlier?”
“I didn’t know it was for you.”
“That’s a lie,” I tell him. “Why wouldn’t you have given it to me earlier?”
“You never ordered Earl Grey,” Stephen smiled.
I freeze and think about this. I guess this is true. I usually have the free water or the free hot chocolate that Stephen gives me. I look at Stephen’s wrist. His jacket is pushed up so it’s bunched at his elbows. I can see the bracelets that decorate his hands. “I still owe you,” I say quietly.
“It’s really not needed,” Stephen assures.
“It is,” I argue.
Stephen turns grabs my arm. “Hey, chill. If you want to work, I’ll let you. But I’ll start putting beads on your hands.”
I hit his shoulder. It’s not that hard, I don’t want it to be, but I try and pack all my annoyance into it.
I shoved Stephen out the door about half an hour ago, but I’m not regretting it. I’m angry at him; I think it might be because he didn’t give me the puzzle earlier. But he’s right, I never did ask for Earl Grey, I never asked for anything more than ice in a cup.
I’m still mad. He knew that when I ordered Earl Grey, he had to give it to me. So it wasn’t like he was at a conflict of who to give the box to. Which makes me mad. He had even come on the whole dang goose chase with me and still didn’t put two and two together that the box was a part of the code. Which makes me furious. I suppose he didn’t use his brilliant brain and catch it, but honestly, it’s been two years. I’ve been searching to crack this code for two freaking years. And he’s Stephen, he could’ve easily, easily give it to me. There’s been two birthdays, two Christmases, and I really would much rather take the box than a mug of minty hot chocolate. And no offence to Stephen, but that completely ticks me off.
After about twenty minutes of ranting, I push Stephen from my head. I make a cup of simple green tea, sweetened with honey. And I try and figure out what the number means. I don’t think they’re books, like the first code was. There are no titles and there are no authors listed to help me. It’s not an account number, obviously.
And I decide that I should call the numbers. I take my cell phone and dial the number.
405 – 118 – 9011.
It could be a phone number.
I hope it’s a phone number. It better be a phone number. I didn’t have this spurt of inspiration to get stuck for another two years. It takes a long time but I finally press the little green phone. The call connects. Then, a beep before it turns to dialing.
I’m shocked when I hear who answers.