This opening of Tornado Blues acts to introduce the adult story line series and focusses around 1 hot summer night in which each of the 8 characters reveal hints of their inner crisis or enter into a very obvious state of despair.
1.1
“Violet, it just can’t be done. It’s impossible”
“She’s right there’s no way you’re going to top last year’s”
“Ladies” Violet smiled her trademark smile, her pristine red lips flicking up just enough to be a smile without causing the thick powdering of foundation to crack or collect in the wrinkles of her face, her lips parting momentarily to flash her perfect white teeth trademark of Dr. Whitton 32 Meadow Lane. “I had a scholarship in cookery at a fine college for the gifted; I could make a pie in my sleep that could easily out do that vile woman’s cooking”
“Now Violet, she’s our friend don’t be so rude”
“Sarah, she was our friend, she is not any more. Can you imagine the gossip if we parade about claiming to be friends of her? It was bad enough that she came from that pompous farmer, with that awful brother, a plight on our lovely street.”
“Violet’s right Sarah dear, we can’t be seen as friends of a murderer. Those poor children, crammed into her basement, it’s the country life. Does weird things to a lady”
“I know, I know” Sarah hovered by the curtains peering across the road to the house across the road “I just can’t help and worry for Conner, he’s such a good man. Too of married into that, he must be distraught”
“Sarah darling, don’t think you can lie to us. We all know you’ve been in his bed more often than that vile woman had.” Violet gently lifted Sarah’s empty glass from the table sliding a coaster below it “You are a common w***e my dear and it is only because you are well connected that we have put up with you so long. Orchard Way is not a place for w****s, dare speak one word of friendship about that woman and you’re world will crumble away beneath your feet”
Sarah turned sharply slapping Violet across the face
“I think it’s time you left dear” Jessica rose to her feet to open the front door “Remember the sticky end Charlotte came too? It’d be a shame for it to repeat now wouldn’t it?”
“Oh don’t worry. I’ll be going now, but Violet. The perfect Mrs. Cerulean you better be ready for a storm, unless of course you know what daddy dearest has been up to all these long years?” She marched swiftly from the room into the dark street leaving an awkward silence behind her.
Violet’s eye lingered on the doorway as Sarah blurred into the darkness, she heard brakes screech and swung the door shut. The thought lingered in her mind that perhaps the car had just hit Sarah, it would solve the problem after all.
“You know Violet, you never did tell us what happened to Charlotte. Was it really that bad?” Jessica paced evenly back to the table as she spoke
“Oh she moved away. Her grandfather lost the family fortune, quite dull really. Last I heard she had some job with an agency for ‘actors’, probably a prostitute if you ask me. She always was rather liberal like our dear Sarah. Though if you would be so kind ladies” she tipped her head gently towards the door “It’s getting late and I have a very busy day tomorrow. Harold is due back from Hawaii at midday.”
1.2
The sweet dew of the grass slowly seeped through the silk of her dress, soothing the hot sweat that had stung her back inside the club. Her cheap foundation from the dollar store smeared uneven over her bare arm as the deep emerald tattoo that wound over her shoulder began to emerge. His weight was heavy against her pelvis
“Nate, gerroff me. This grass is sodding” she said softly pulling her lips away from his, obediently he rolled away, revealing the starry sky splintered by willow tree branches. His knock-off leather jacket squeaked painfully on the wet grass
“Sorry Jayjay. Got carried away. You just look so gorgeous all dolled up-like” his voice was rough and harsh in the night air.
“It’s been so long since I came here. Forgot how much I liked it”
“How on earth did you come here a lot? This is a snobby park, did you not notice all the guards when we snuck in?”
“Went to a college for the gifted din I? Scholarship for music. They used to drag us here all the time, where d’ya think I learnt all those posh tunes?”
“I dunno, you’re just so good on guitar, never really wondered bout it. Just ‘ssumed you had lessons with all that money of yours”
Jayne sat bolt upright on the grass, staring sharply down at Nate
“I told you not to talk about that money, you’re not even s’pose to know about it”
“Well if I knew how you got it wouldn’t be so interesting now would it you stupid b***h” Nate rose to his feet towering over her
“Oh so I’m a stupid b***h now am I?” Jayne equally rose to her feet her voice rising loud into the chill night air
“Oi. Who’s up there?” a voice hailed from the tall iron gate of the park which swung smoothly open a figure passing through marked only by the wild flickering beam of his torch. They did not notice him however as their argument raged
“Well you must be stupid to think you can dress up like some snob and say you had a scholarship to some posh school and think I’d buy it? You’re common as muck, another wannabe rock star who’ll f**k their way to the top”
“B*****d” she slapped him sharp across the face, her long nails, painted black and deep green, left cuts on his cheek, one snapped clean off, sticking out of his cheek. The flicking torch got more manic, charging through the blackness up the hill towards them
“You cow” Nate lifted his overly muscled arm and with a single smack landed a punch on her face, she flew backwards, stumbling with a bloody face to the ground. She whimpered slightly as the torch beam finally reached the hilltop. Nate’s face was briefly lit by the torch. It was twisted and cruel, the kindness Jayne had fallen for vanished, the shining blood from his cheek matted in his rough beard
“You’re mine b***h. I’ll be back for you.” He spat before turning to sprint away into the night.
1.3
His footsteps echoed loudly in the empty street as he swiftly marched through each pool of orange cast out by the sleek lampposts. His skinny jeans felt so warm as he broke a slight sweat, why was he even in a shopping district this late? He wondered as his sleek white phone rang once more. He sleekly slide the phone open, effortlessly he placed it under his shaggy black hair to pin against his ear. The metal was cool and soothing in the hot night
“Hello?” he spoke as lightly as he could
“Where are you?” the gravely monotone voice of his twenty-something career woman agent bored into his head through the phone
“I’m out and about. You know shopping and stuff”
“Without your bodyguards? Are you asking to be abducted?” He paused lingering in a shadow, the hum of music wafted from a seafront mansion somewhere to the east of him, but his eyes lingered on the single dark window of an apartment block to the west “Adrian? Are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m here”
“You’ve got to stop acting out like this. Standing Amanda up again! You know how fast rumours can start in this town and then your fancy scholarship will get you nowhere”
“What? I don’t know what you’re rambling on about Char”
“Don’t pull that one with me. You’re meant to be at Katherine and Kyle’s cocktail party. It was the perfect chance for you to meet Dr. Whitton, he works such wonders...”
“Char for the last time I’m not having my nose, teeth or anything touched by some glitz doctor. That’s not who I am, Kitty knew I wasn’t coming. I told her I couldn’t deal with it, not tonight.”
“You’re going to his place again aren’t you?” His eyes flickered from the window as he once again began to stride down the street “Adrian you cannot keep seeing him. Imagine how fast they’d drop you from the film if they thought you might be gay! Just come to the party, we can make something up; you can buy a ring for Amanda. It’ll land perfectly for a fall wedding”
“Might be gay? Char we’ve been over this. I’m not going to lie just for my career, Kitty agrees with me. She’ll walk if they fire me”
“Oh of course I might’ve known Katherine was playing a part in this rebellion of yours. She always was one for the drama. Now get yourself here bef...”
“Goodnight Charlotte” he snapped the phone shut stuffing it back violently back into his messenger bag as he came to a stop outside a particularly shiny window, it had couture prom dresses behind the glass. He allowed his focus to slip to his reflection, readjusting his thick fringe to perfectly sit across his face before digging through his bag for the remaining stub of his eyeliner; he’d bought it for some loose change while filming in the UK. Charlotte had been mad that day too, ranted about how he can not go off without body guards – too valuable to the firm, screeched bloody murder about him using high street products instead of his own brand. His own brand that he’d never wanted the one that had been smeared over far too many animals in tiny cages then sold for stupid amounts of money.
It was only then he realised where he was, this is the street he’d slept on and begged on doing little scenes with the girl from the dumpster for change right before they had found him.
1.4
She clutched the fifty tight to her chest as she curled her bare legs into the chair. Her stiletto heels strewn on the table in front of her, with the empty martini glass and her peeling gold clutch purse. Her make-up dribbled persistently down her cheek in the tracks of her tears, his suit jacket with still draped over her shoulders, drowning her tiny form.
The barman with hissing feverishly with the receptionist across the lobby, she silently counted in her head. In about forty seconds she’d be asked to leave, this was a nice place, she was disrupting the guests, all the usual excuses to get her out of the door. If she was lucky they might call her a taxi, even pay for it. Before they could embarrass her she slid her shoes back on, dragged a neon yellow ribbon from her purse and tied her hair back and walked clean across the lobby into the sharp night air, the suit jacket still draped around her despite the clinging warmth of the night. She wobbled across a road and down an alley into a rundown street. She leant against a payphone to take her shoes off, tying the straps onto her broad faux leather belt before digging into her purse once more to find a quarter.
It dropped into the phone with a satisfying clunk as the dial tone hummed down her ear. The phone began to ring
“Come on be home, be home” she mumbled under her breathe, her eyes tracking a slouching figure passing by the booth. The phone continued to ring
“F**k it” she threw the phone down sliding to the floor “That stupid b***h, won’t even let me see my girl. But why should she? What kind of mother am I? That b*****d college was meant to make my dreams come true...”
“Oi, oi Princess aint you s’pose to be working?” a man smirked down at her, he clasped a burger in one hand and wore a loose yellow jacket with white letters spelling the name of some greek frat house. The lights of a car illuminated him from behind so she blinked confused on the floor.
“F**k you Lance. You owe me 500 bucks. I lost my apartment cause of you”
“Aw well I’m sure your precious little college will help you out Princess. Did you get a scholarship for f*****g the head master?” She looked sideways to see Lance’s friend leaning out on his SUV listening to him mock the dirty w***e. Smiling to herself she spoke louder
“Wouldn’t of thought you’d know much about f*****g Lance. After all you never got it up did ya?” His friends began to laugh manically
“You b***h, you’re not meant to f*****g tell people”
“And you’re meant to pay me my 500 bucks you f*****g f****t”
He threw the greasy burger he’d been holding at her and got back into the car. She waited for the car to roll out of site, and then picked the burger up ramming it down her throat. It had been days since she had eaten so well.
1.5
He dropped the manuscript into the fireplace, pouring another double scotch into the tumbler that had faded lemon prints around the outside. He sunk back into the indigo armchair that faced the fire; it was worn and frayed with scotch stains.
“Leon Burkump, the next big thing” he mumbled taking a deep swig from the glass, he wasn’t sure why he was talking to himself “Leon the amazing and gifted writer, scholarship trained, un-publishable working for a crappy paper”
The door swung open slightly a woman dressed in a lilac gown yawned broadly staring into the room
“Leon, are you coming to bed anytime soon?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be up in a sec”
“You’ve been at the scotch again haven’t you?” she swept into the crouching by the chair to hold his hazy gaze “You’ll get a publishing deal one day just you wait”
She kissed him softly on the forehead
“Yeah and meanwhile my wife can pay the bills, much to her father’s dismay” he flung the glass at the fireplace and it scattered, tiny shards of glass flew back at them, scratching his skin
“I can’t deal with you like this, you’ve got to stop drinking Leon. Please, just come to bed”
“Just leave me alone” He swung up from the chair, grabbing the car keys from the side table as he staggered across the room
“You’re not driving like this. Leon, get back here right now. You’re gonna get yourself killed”
“Oh daddy will be pleased” The front door banged shut behind him, he swayed violently but then sighed deeply as he sank into the soft seats of the new people carrier – just in case they need it she’dsaid.
The gears grinded heavily, the road seemed to swing widely from side to side as he gathered speed. The promises of fame and fortune for his gift swam through his head, that college, their words, his hopes, his dreams. What did it all matter now? He would be like this forever, wife, kids, car, house the dream you have to want if you’re not going to be sectioned or a weird old person living alone with cats or snakes. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, the night was so hot. His swung wildly onto Orchard Way, the posh suburb; him and Vi had always wanted to live her after they got married, but of course that never happened. Suddenly there was a figure swimming in front of him in the road, he slammed the brakes and swung the wheel. The tree loomed from the darkness, straight ahead of the car. Dreams twisted and faded, metal crushed and buckled, wood burnt and splintered and darkness came.
1.6
“Oh hey Tori, why you ringin’ so late?” her phone was pressed close to her ear, to pin out the noise around her “You want me to model in your show? Oh my god Tourmaline you did it? You got your line picked up. I’m so happy for you!”
“Amethia, come on now their waiting for you” her agent beckoned her to follow
“Oh, sorry Tori I gotta go, opening my art show an all. What am I wearing? Don’t be so silly I’ve not time for this. Meet me for coffee tomorrow? How about that place on Fairmount Way? Okay bye Tori” she stuffed her baby pink phone back into the tiny bum bag that hung on the side of her bright violet tartan miniskirt, which clashed so effortlessly with her thick fishnets and tight corset.
Broadly smiling she worked her way through the welcoming crowd, who turned from the various sculptures and paintings to nod briefly at her as she approached the stage. A ripple of applause filled the room as she climbed up onto the stage, her agent sighing from the sidelines as she used the steps. She blushed deeply, her face turning a radiant pink through her thick foundation that voided her face of colour
“Thank you, thank you” she beamed at them “Well I know you’ve all been waiting a long time for this, my second collection. And I’m more than aware that half of you would rather be at Katherine’s wonderful cocktail party in her sea view mansion, but I am thankful you are cultured enough to come here first” a hushed laugh rippled through the crowd as eyes flicked to those at the back all looking rather awkward clutching martini glasses and staring towards the door “So let keep this short and sweet. Many thanks to Mr. Cerulean and his fine college for the scholarship that got me here; enjoy the art and nag Miss Woodminister my agent if you want to buy it. I will see you all at my brother’s upcoming fashion show. Goodnight”
Amongst the applause she slipped from the stage and wound through the gallery into the kitchens, her heavy gothic boots dangling in midair as she slid onto the cool metal side. Smiling sweetly at the cater waiter who looked bemused at her appearance. She pulled the crumpled letter from her bag smoothing it out on the side to read properly. Among all the medical gibberish all she could decipher was the cold hard truth, she wasn’t her father. It’d had all been a lie, the past year, an entire lie. She felt sick to her stomach, shivered violently despite the scorching heat of this summer night, her muscles contracted and the cater waiter was covered in vomit slightly tinged pink with blood.
1.7
He paced the apartment nervously, circling the muted grey couch that sat offset from the sheer glass coffee table overlooking the windows that looked down towards the coast. Rolls of fabric leant against the far wall, threatening to lurch at any moment into the fridge or knock a heavy wooden sculpture into the deep grey granite kitchen floor. The phone tinkled innocently and he lunged for it picking it up
“Hello?” he tried to keep his voice as level as possible
“Mr. Jordan?”
“Yes, speaking”
“We have his response for you. He absolutely loved your collection and wants you to show it at your earliest convenience for the stores to view. You will be required to supply your own models, make-up and transport, is that okay?”
“Yes, that’s all fine. I will start preparing immediately.” He tried to keep his voice cool and level as butterflies soared in his stomach and he could feel himself verging on screaming
“What timeframe do you think you will need?”
“Two weeks should be fine.”
“Very well. Well on behalf of all of us here welcome to the fashion industry Tourmaline.” The line went dead. He took two long slow breathes before leaping onto the sofa yelling at the top of his lungs.
After a few minutes he landed, smiling broadly
“Oh s**t, I gotta ring Ammy” he pressed down the receiver of the phone and lifted it back to his ear dialling excitedly, eventually she answered
“Hey Ammy. It’s not that late, besides I wanted to confirm you could model for me.” He smirked broadly “Yes in my show Amethia. Well if you weren’t happy for me I would disown you sis. Oh yeah your art show is tonight, watcha wearing? Something good I hope. Okay I’m free in the morning, but I gotta go to the hospital later, where abouts? Okay that’ll be fine. Cya then Ammy.” He put the phone back down.
Overwhelmed with joy, he scooped a photo off the coffee table and threw the balcony doors open. The wind was sharp up this high, but it still blistered his face with the late night heat. He ran his thumb over the photo, it showed the park that backed onto the college. He hadn’t been there for a while, but seeing the swarm of people in the photo made him think back to when he was last there. Life was so simple back then, the gang having a laugh, not thinking about the future. Of course it was a year after this photo was taken the group began to break up, the oldest graduated. Beginning of the end, they said they’d keep in touch; but it never worked out he only ever saw Ammy now was too busy at the hospital with all the tests and progress reports and all of it without Simon, why did he have to leave? It wasn’t fair, not now everything was going right; his toothbrush was still in the bathroom, his beer in the fridge, his clothes in the wardrobe of the spare room.
1.8
This dorm house was like a prison in recent years. He stowed away in his bedroom more and more or went running when he did not need to. His bedroom walls were covered with hundreds of photos, his dirty brown hair visible in each. Photos of the good years, before they all graduated, thank f**k it was his last year. Everyone here was so immature and moronic compared to the old guys. Each one promising to stay in touch, but each one changed phone numbers or never wrote. He trawled the gossip sites on his pc or flicked through glossy magazines, searching for their faces or names; one of them must’ve had some sort of success.
He pulled the stack of blank invites his parents had sent him towards himself across the desk. They were neatly worded in a deep chocolate font, inviting people to attend the dinner and cocktails party to celebrate Malcolm’s twenty first birthday.
“F**k it, let’s see if any of them can be bothered with me now” He pulled his address book towards him and began to scrawl on the invites and their envelopes. He never expected any of them to reply but it was worth a try, he could drop them into the mailbox on his morning run. He should have plenty of time to do that and have a shower before lessons started. That’s if there was any point in going to lessons, after all wasn’t life just a waste? Everyone just left you behind in the end, nothing to celebrate or look forward to. Just another day in the gym working towards your parents’ dreams, more girls dressed up like w****s drooling over your perfect abs expecting you to fall into bed like some sort of toy they could use until they found a rich old man to marry.
He turned to kneel on the floor, the hard wood was a smooth dark brown beneath him, the corner of the rug peeled backwards to reveal a loose board. His fingers pried it upwards, underneath was a single towel stained deep brown by dried blood, he unravelled it carefully to reveal the clean shining blade. The sealed invites on his desk scattered onto the floor, a thick muddy footprint blotted over Patricia, as he climbed out of the window into the stick night. He knew this time he’d do it for sure, he had nothing left to live for after all; they’d all abandoned him. He knew just where to do it as well, beside the gardeners shed. The wall of the grounds stopped short, squeezing through put you behind the thick hedge of Aire Park, a few metres of branches later and you were in the secure grounds. He stopped at the end of the hedge, pulled the sheet of paper from his pocket, scrawled on it speaking aloud as he did so
“May the seas of your life be smooth as the storm of mine brews to high. You all said forever but you left me behind. Perhaps my party will make you see this and break your shallow hearts for costing my life”
His eyes were number to the flickering light, his ears deaf the yells that surrounded him, the blade felt so cool against his face, it sliced lightly into his cheek clean fresh blood dribbled into the dew. He unzipped his jacket, revealing his bare flesh beneath, mesmerised by the pain and relief he traced crazy patterns into the skin and muscle, each slice drawing a trickle of warm blood. The fringes of his vision blurred and his breath rung deeper in his chest, slowly and deliberately he pulled the knife upwards towards his throat, he felt the first tinge in his flesh. A sharp and heavy weight crashed upon his shoulder. He turned disoriented, the blade slicing through the air, the note soaring into the air. A roar of pain filled his ears, the blade was torn from his hand, he crumpled to the floor; blood spilled outwards across the grass as the two crumpled forms panted in the night air.
I'm Symon or Sy.
I'm on a gap year working a few days a week at my local co-op until I go to uni in the fall to study English Literature.
I absolutely live for the creative and the visual, be it.. more..
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