Fox Hunting

[FlyIntoOblivion]

This is a new story I'm working on at the moment. I'm sorry if I get a little delayed posting here; I've got several projects open right now, but I do plan on getting this done soon. I hope everyone enjoys it.

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Part One

Thomas was eight. He sat, staring into his cereal and tepid blue-white milk in his mother’s pristine kitchen. Then he asked the same question he asked every year. “Where’s Father?”

His mother, as always, froze in her motions, this time scrubbing a water glass with scalding water. “He’s looking for foxes,” she replied, continuing her motions, not looking at him.

“But what does that mean?” This question was new, and Thomas felt even more important.

His mother didn’t stop this time. “Hurry up and eat your cereal before it gets soggy. You need to get ready for school.” She set the glass down harder than usual, hitting the counter with a dull clink.

He did as he was told, and as soon as he had slurped down the last bit of milk from the bottom of the bowl, she whisked it away, drowning it in the soapy water.

In the bathroom, Thomas stared at his reflection as he brushed his teeth, trying to imagine his father. He had never seen a picture of his father; he had never asked his mother, and wondered if she would show him if he did. Thomas imagined him looking quite like himself, older, more mature. He knew he had his mother’s lips, but his cheekbones were higher, more defined than hers, and his eyes were differently shaped than hers. Somehow, he knew they were his father’s eyes, because no one on his mother’s family had eyes like that.

“Thomas, the bus is here, hurry!” His mother called from the living room, and he shot down the hall, scooping up his backpack, kissed his mother, then ran out into the bright sunlight and onto the waiting bus.

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School. The teacher was a kind, young lady, younger than Thomas’ mother, who fretted over his quiet nature, trying to get him to play with the other children-the bold, brash ones with voices that grated on his ears. But he shook his head, burrowing lower in his corner, trying to use his book as a shield from the teacher and her hands, trying to get him to play.

Miss Engels sighed, straightening, announcing recess to be over, and the children slowly, reluctantly, returned to their seats. It was time for their share time, and Miss Engels asked them each in turn what their parents did for a living. Thomas squirmed in his seat when his turn came. “My Mom is a secretary at a law firm,” he replied, conscious of his voice in the silence.

“And your father? Does he have a job?”

Thomas was silent for a long moment, feeling Miss Engels’ disapproving eyes on him. “He looks for foxes.”

The girls squealed. The boys poked each other, pointed and laughed. Thomas blushed, trying not to cry. “That’s enough!” Miss Engels barked, and the class was quiet again, and the task went on, but Thomas couldn’t hear anything but the buzzing in his ears.

[bostongirl]

Fly - great start. looks to be another great story!!!! I will keep looking for the next installment.

-Boston

[jillywilly65]

Aww, poor Thomas :-(
I love it so far. Anxious for more now. You are such a vivd or should I say prolific writer
I could imagine this all so clearly. Especially Thomas looking at himself in the mirror.
You got the gift girl!!!!
:-)

[FlyIntoOblivion]

Thank you. I really appreciate it.

[Cheza]

Great start, Fly! Okay, you've got me hooked...now I have to know what "fox hunting" is...I have an idea, but I'll wait for your big reveal.

[FlyIntoOblivion]

cheza said:

Great start, Fly! Okay, you've got me hooked...now I have to know what "fox hunting" is...I have an idea, but I'll wait for your big reveal.

Thank you! Its a reference to a movie, if that's what you're thinking about.

I will post the clip at the end of the story, though. Its a gorgeous clip.

[grumpypirate]

Awww poor Thomas! Great story Fly! I can't wait to hear more!

[FlyIntoOblivion]

Thank you, everyone. I do appreciate your support and comments. I have a question for you all: How do you see Thomas? I mean, what does he look like in your head? I'm just curious.

The other boys were waiting for him after school. One of the larger ones, a boy named John, jeered at him, pushing his face into Thomas’, though he dare not touch while still in the schoolyard. “Has your daddy brought home any foxes lately?”

The others sniggered, and Thomas stayed silent as they ringed around him, leering and heckling him. “You don’t have a daddy, you bastard!” One of them said, snickering.

John himself guffawed, clapping the other boy on the back. “And look, he’s too stupid to know that!” He pushed Thomas lightly. “You don’t belong here with us, you bastard.”

Thomas stayed silent, and one of the other boys kicked a clod of dirt at him. “I think he’s a mute, too!” And the boys took to laughing again, keening like a pack of hyenas.

“Hey, you boys! What do you think you’re doing!” Came a voice from the direction of the school, and they all spun to see the principal, storming over and shaking his fist in the air. The other boys scattered like leaves in the wind, running in opposite directions, but the principal ignored them, striding over to Thomas, who stayed rooted to his spot. “Are you all right, son?”

Thomas nodded dumbly, his tongue stuck between his teeth. He glanced around, realizing that his bus was there, right in front of him, and the bus driver was staring at him. Thomas jumped guiltily; how long had she been waiting for him? He raced up the stairs, throwing himself into the seat right behind the driver, pressing his face against the cold glass and letting his tears slip down his cheeks.

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The smell of his grandmother’s cooking was distinctive, always tinged with melting butter and a spice Thomas didn’t have a name for. He ran into the kitchen before his mother could call to him, only to be caught by his grandmother’s warm arms, kissed by her laughing face. “You silly boy, running around like that,” she chided lightly, squeezing him so tight he felt like he might pop, but he hugged her back, realizing that the dark sob caught in his chest did, in fact, burst, and he laughed and kissed her back.

His mother was slicing tomatoes, the juice running all over the cutting board into a sloppy mess, and she leaned down to kiss him when his grandmother set him down again to turn back to the stove. “Did you have a good day, Tom?”

He nodded, struggling with the cheap plastic backpack’s zipper, pulling out a sheet of paper, holding it out for her to see. She glanced at it without ceasing her motions on the cutting board, but she smiled, setting down the knife and wiping her hands. “A perfect score, that’s wonderful!” She took the paper, sticking it under a refrigerator magnet of the Eiffel Tower next to her shopping list. “Do you have homework?” He nodded again. “Well, go ahead and do it, and then you can go play,” his mother said, turning back to her tomatoes. “Let me know if you have any questions.”

Thomas placed himself at the kitchen table, trying to focus on his spelling assignment, but his mind wandered to the conversation near the stove. “As I was saying, Lily, you really should think about finding someone else.”

“I don’t need someone else, Mom,” Thomas’ mother replied calmly.

“For heaven’s sake, you’re still wearing your wedding ring. You need a husband, and Tom needs a father.”

“He has a father.”

“A father he’s never met! A father he’s never known! He needs a male influence, Lil.”

Lily wiped her knife clean, starting to dice a red onion. “I think you’re overreacting.”

His grandmother said, quietly, “You know, staying single isn’t going to-”

“Mother!” There was a bark in Mother’s voice that made Thomas turn and stare at her. She stood there, defiantly, staring down his grandmother, holding the knife aloft. The cutting board was still stained with the tomatoes, and it looked like watered down blood, and Thomas shuddered, pushing that image out his head. His mother said something so low he couldn’t hear it, but he caught his grandmother’s glance in his direction.

“When are you going to tell him?”

Mother returned to chopping onion. “When he’s ready.”

Grandmother only paused a second longer than Mother before turning back to her work. “Are you sure you don’t mean when you’re ready?”

Mother said nothing.

[cfbj01]

Great Story Fly - looking forward to reading more.

[ndavis021410]

[Cheza]

Excellent work as always, Fly!

[grumpypirate]

YAY! Great chapter Fly!

I see Thomas as being very quite small child. Kinda like one who's been ignored in school, doesn't have very many friends and prefers to keep to himself. That's just how I see him.

[FlyIntoOblivion]

Thanks everyone for your kind words. Here's the second to last part. I'm sorry the story isn't longer, but I hope you all enjoy it.

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It was clouded over, threatening to rain with those violent violet clouds hanging over the sky like a noose. Thomas ran his little Matchbox cars over the deep carpet, crashing them into one another in the living room, making the appropriate noises with his mouth. His grandmother dozed on the couch; his mother was out shopping. Thomas didn’t really need anyone there to watch him, for he was a generally mild-mannered boy, so Grandmother slept.

There was a great crack that shook the earth, and Thomas clapped his hands to his ears to hide that sound. It was as if the sky had broken in two, and it began to hail, a loud cacophony against the sidewalk and the roof, and Thomas ran away from the living room to get away from the sound, running heedless into his mother’s room, hiding in her perfumed closet, trying to drown out the sound with the smell of Mother.

His hand touched something cold and metal, and his tiny child hands felt it out. It was a flashlight, and he flicked it on, looking around her closet in the beam. In the corner there was a wood box, highly polished and varnished to a cherry color. Curious, he pulled it to him, opening the box.

It was overflowing with news clippings and photographs, and Thomas picked up one of the photos. For a long time, he stared at it, numbly realizing that he was, for the first time, looking at his father. He dug deeper into the box, picked up one of the news clips. Most of the words were foreign to him, but he saw his own name, Thomas, and realized that his father’s name had also been Thomas. Many of the other words were alien to him, but he did know one: murder.

Another photograph from a news clipping caught his eye. It was Mother, younger, pale and thinner, standing in a courtroom, clutching a baby Thomas to her breast. Her face was hard, and though she was younger than now, she looked older than Thomas had ever seen her.

“Thomas?” Mother called out, sounding frantic, and Thomas jumped, trying to place everything back in the box, but before he could, the closet door opened, and there was Mother, looming over him with an almost blank expression. Thomas braced himself for the worst, but she sunk down to her knees next to him, mute and lost-looking.

[jillywilly65]

I am sooo hooked!!!!

[FlyIntoOblivion]

I finished it faster than I thought. I hope you all like it.

The sun was shining brightly when it began to rain, large spattered drops, and Thomas laughed, covering Lily with a newspaper. “The foxes must be having a wedding,” he said.

“Oh really?” she replied playfully, touching her pregnant stomach as if to protect it from the uneven concrete sidewalk.

“Yes, that is what we say in weather like this.” He smiled, taking her hand. “We should go home soon. If we see the foxes’ wedding, they’ll be most displeased.”

“Is that something we’re not supposed to see?”

Thomas smiled, adjusting his glasses. “We’ll have to ask their forgiveness if we do see them, and hope they accept.”

She laughed, and he bent over, opening the car door for her and helping her steady herself on the curb.

Once Lily had settled herself in the passenger seat, there was a voice from behind Thomas, calling, “What do you think you’re doing with that white woman?” The speaker was young, with a shock of flaming red hair, streaked with gold that matched his eyes. His hands were in his back pockets, and there was a darting, insolent look in his eyes and frame.

Thomas bent over and locked Lily’s door. “That’s none of your business. I’m not bothering you.” And he shut the door before she could argue, and Lily glanced around, noting there were more than just the redhead, forming a semi-circle around the car.

The redhead said something else, but the words were lost to Lily. Thomas tried to push past them, but they attacked at that moment, throwing him to the pavement, the violence and the anger of the action never quite reaching their cold eyes and bloodless faces. Lily covered her ears and bent double in the seat, her eyes squeezed shut against the pressure.

It seemed to be a long time before she dared to look up. It was pouring heavily now, but the men were gone, and Lily wondered if it had been a strange figment of her imagination. But when she opened the door, Thomas lay sprawled on the concrete, his eyes closed, and there was a pinkish stain floating away from his body.

Lily didn’t remember the ride to the hospital; it was as if someone had cut that part out of the film. Next was the seats in front of the emergency room, where she sat, doubled over, trying to hide her obvious bulge with her arms. The doctor came out, and Lily leapt to her feet, leaning forward in fear.

The doctor took a long time taking off his gloves, not looking at her. When he finally lifted his eyes to hers, he said nothing, but she crumpled to the floor, landing on her elbows and knees, tearing at her hair and wailing.

There was no telling how long she kept up her weeping-days, maybe-then someone pulled her to her feet. “We’ve got to get you to the maternity ward,” said a voice, and Lily was barely aware that she was soaking wet, and she wondered if it was from the rain.

She felt nothing of her labor; her pain of losing Thomas swallowed it whole. They tried to give her painkillers; she screamed at them to get away, because nothing was going to kill her pain. When the baby was born, she could swear she heard Thomas’ voice in that baby’s wail, and wept more when they handed her the black tufted baby. He had his father’s eyes, and she clasped him close, whispered his father’s name over him.

Then Thomas’ parents were there, his father supporting his mother. His mother‘s face was ravaged from weeping, her usual taut bun undone and her hair spilling out down her shoulders, looking greyer than ever. She pointed a long, thin finger at Lily, wailing and screaming, “You did this! You killed my son!”

Lily shook her head, trying to deny it, but no words would come, and she held up their baby for them to see, trying to get them to understand, but Thomas’ mother shook her head, refusing to look at her grandson, and Thomas’s father pulled her away, out of the room, never to be seen again by Lily.

There was the trial, and the lawyers and the murderers, all of them insolent, all of them cold and hard, worn out and bitter all in their own ways. Lily stood behind the prosecutor, clasping baby Thomas to her, like if she wasn’t touching him, he too would be taken from her by the feral monsters in the courtroom. The judge was reading out their sentences, but Lily had no tears of joy when the murderers were led away from the courtroom. She had no more tears to give.



There was a touch of a hand on her face. “Mom?” Thomas was there, looking at her fearfully, running a hand across her tears streaked cheek, and she pulled him close to her, her tears running into his hair as she squeezed him tight. He even smelled like his father, and Lily held him tighter, kissing him compulsively.

“I’m so sorry, Thomas.”

[FlyIntoOblivion]

As promised, the clips that I was inspired by. I'm sorry I can't find the whole piece in one YouTube link.

Part 1:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=eGhqHZypds4

Part 2:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=tHususa_mL4&mode=related&search=

Part 3:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=J6-25o2lFZc&mode=related&search=

Part 4:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=SIJBT4Rq4lk&mode=related&search=

[jillywilly65]

Good stuff Fly. Totally engrossed. What a sad ending for Thomas :-(
I really enjoy your style of writing. I was right there.

[FlyIntoOblivion]

Thank you. I appreciate the feedback.

[Cheza]

Kurosawa Niiiiiiice.

I really liked this story. Your descriptions are very vivid. Mine usually are, but I'm trying to do something different with Justice. I hoped to have another chapter up tonight, but I'm not going to make it. Today has been a heck of a day.

Jilly, there's another sad ending, did GP ever write you a happy story? I'm not sure how Justice is going to turn out at this point. I'm debating a few possible turns at this moment, but I'm trying to let the story "lead me", as odd as that may sound, to the proper conclusion.

Keep up the fantastic work, Fly. Peace.

[FlyIntoOblivion]

My professor mentioned it at the start of class one day, and I looked up the clip when I got home. This just kinda popped into my head.

Thank you. I'm usually the anti-description, but I wanted something very specific out of this one, so there was more than usual. I also don't usually write for a young boy; that was difficult. I hope he was believable.

I know what you mean about a story being the leader. In my novel, I ended up murdering one of the main characters. I never anticipated killing her, but as she grew, I knew it was right. It just...felt right, and she would've died one way or another anyway.