Page: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
comanchero
Budding
Global user
Posts: 82
|
|
Reply | Quote
|
|
Re: Not so easy - a new orlando Bloom story.
HAPPY EASTER EVERYONE!!!
Enjoy your new update!
Chapter eight, part I
Wendy and the nasty nurse.
Wendy and the revolting raincoat.
Wendy and the menacing Marsupials.
Wendy, Wendy and more Wendy. The cartoon girl had gradually taken over her life. New ideas for albums crept up on her in the middle of the night and sometimes the lights on Darcy’s desk were still burning way past midnight.
Her first book, titled “Wendy and her wonder wheels” was to be published in a matter of weeks. Greg, her agent (she actually had an agent now) had invited her to come see the first copy roll off the presses and she was really looking forward to it.
Her cartoons kept her going, kept her mind off the fact that she missed him terribly. And that he hadn’t called her since his hasty report he had arrived safely three weeks ago. She knew he must be busy. She understood. So was she. But she desperately wanted to hear his voice again.
There had already been many nights she just couldn’t sleep and this was no exception. Not wanting to see any more Wendy lest she would kill off her own character, she flipped the channels, though nothing else was on but some shopping show. God, if she was to become any more lethargic, she would probably start to believe in the junk they sold.
The sound of her phone jolted her out of her state of daze and for a moment she stupidly blinked at the offensive machine. When her bedraggled brain realized it wouldn’t stop ringing by just looking at it, she picked up the receiver, glancing at her alarm clock. It was a quarter past midnight.
“Hello?”
“Darcy, love?”
“Orli?”
“Yeah, hi. I was hoping you’d still be up. I didn’t wake you did I?”
“No, I wasn’t sleeping yet.”
“Withering away next to the phone awaiting my call?”
Close. Not that she would tell him of course.
“And bawling my eyes out in the meantime. It has been three weeks, Mr. Bloom.”
She could almost see him cringe and decided to watch her tone of voice more consciously. The last thing she wanted was to appear needy, angry and desperate.
“I know and I’m so sorry. It’s a freakin’ madhouse over here. Believe it or not, this is the first time I was able to sneak away during lunch hour just to give you a quick call. So you can cancel the search party now.”
Thank God for his sense of humor, which as always, worked as a catalyst.
“Will do. And send the bill to you.”
“Sure, I’ll have Peter Jackson take care of it. F*ckin’ Hobbit slave driver.”
“Scold all you want, Orli. I bet you’re having the best time of your life.”
He laughed at that and it was good to hear him feel so obviously at ease.
“I am. The guys who play the Hobbits are mad, I tell you. They’re like midgets on speed. So innocent on the outside, but inside…dark, cruel and nasty. Completely twisted.”
“And you’re fitting right in.”
“Better believe it. The elf might be above and beyond these things, but Orlando…”
“Hey, you don’t have to remind me you’re nuts. My memory serves me quite well.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Take it however you like it dear. Past midnight, I couldn’t care less.”
He laughed again, wistfully this time, making the sound turn into more of a sigh. Then he expertly changed the subject.
“How’s Wendy coming along?”
“Very well, thank you. The first copy is to be printed in two weeks and they invited me over to be there.”
“Wow, that sounds amazing, seeing your work come to life. Just don’t forget the first copy is mine.”
“I won’t. I’m nervous though.”
“Of what, people not liking your story? Hard to imagine they won’t, love.”
“You’re biased, Orlando.”
“True as that might be, I still think people are going to love her. Do I need to repeat your own speech to you?”
“Could you?”
“If needed, yes. But you don’t. Because Wendy is gonna be a hit, mark my words.”
“I hope so.”
“Don’t hope. Believe.”
“Orli?”
“Yes, love?”
“Thanks.”
“Anytime, sweetie.”
She heard noises on the other end; someone was calling him. He cursed, then reverted to their conversation again.
“I’m sorry, love, gotta run.”
“It’s okay, I understand.”
“I miss you.”
“Same here. Now hang up and do your job.”
“Call you again, soon, okay? Sweet dreams. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
|
|
21/Mar/2008, 5:52
|
Send Email to comanchero
Send PM to comanchero
|
comanchero
Budding
Global user
Posts: 82
|
|
Reply | Quote
|
|
Re: Not so easy - a new orlando Bloom story.
Chapter eight, part II
The line went dead after that and Darcy let herself fall back against the pillows. He sounded happy. Tired but happy. He was living a dream life in a beautiful country. But he still called her and told her he missed her. And she wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
Finally, sleep took over, saving her from other ponderings.
Two weeks later, an excited Sam drove her to the press center where her first batch of Wendy albums were to be printed.
She was being awaited by her agent Greg Everton. After introductions to Sam, he took both women to the machines which were already humming to spit out her mind’s child.
She met with the manager of the press center, Harley McQueen, a very gentle middle-aged man. He shook her hand, then took her aside with a nervous look on his face. He fished his wallet out of the back pocket of his rather filthy overalls and took out a picture. It was a little girl of about six years old, her feet in braces.
“Miss Meehan, this is Teddy, my oldest grandchild. She was born with disfigured feet and she has trouble walking. She feels awkward sometimes because there are so many things she can’t participate in. She always stands out. That’s why I was very glad we got the order of printing your album. I believe that if Teddy reads about Wendy, she’ll finally get some recognition. What you’re doing is just fantastic. But I wanted to ask you; could you sign a copy for my granddaughter? I’ll pay the normal retail price.”
He was such a kind man and obviously a very proud grandfather, Darcy shook her head.
“I’ll be happy to sign a copy for Teddy, but please, accept it as a gift. Just don’t tell Greg, he’s concerned I’ll give the entire first batch of copies away to friends.”
“That’s very kind of you, miss Meehan.”
“Please, it’s Darcy.”
“Very well. Then I’m Harley. Now, let’s get this machine started. Would you like to do the honors of pushing the start button?”
As she did so, a flash of a camera momentarily obscured her vision and she blinked in its general direction, spotting Sam when her vision cleared.
“For Orlando.”
Darcy could only nod as the press started to whirl to life, making any conversation impossible unless one would shout.
Half an hour later, Sam was busy snapping picture after picture while Darcy admired the very first copy that had come off the press. It was still warm to the touch. She leafed through it, held it close to her and sniffed the smell of new ink, giddy as a preteen. She rummaged through her purse until she encountered a marker pen.
It was a promise she would keep. She opened the cover of the comic book she was holding and gnawed on her pen while thinking of what to write.
It had to be something special, yet not too mushy. Allowing her heart to take over for now, she wrote in clear letters:
To Orlando
My friend and savior. My nemesis and angel.
My heart and home. Wherever you dwell.
With all my love.
Darcy ‘Wheels’ Meehan.
She closed the book and handed it to Sam for safekeeping. It was clear that her friend’s sister was almost consumed with curiosity as to what she had written, but Darcy silently commended her for not breaking her trust. Instead, the book disappeared into her bag.
Harley handed her the next book with a shy smile and she took it from him. To his grandchild she wrote:
To Teddy,
If you think you’re good enough, you are in fact, already perfect.
Love, Darcy Meehan.
Harley obviously didn’t have the restraint Samantha had. He was reading over her shoulder when she scribbled the words into the book. When she gave it back to him and glanced at his face, he turned away from her slightly, suspiciously misty-eyed.
“Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome, Harley.”
The tension was lifted when a pop could be heard. It was quite the same sound as a bullet going off and for a slight moment, Darcy cringed. Sam’s hand on her shoulder steadied her. As did the fact it proved to be only a cork popping out of a champagne bottle.
Glasses were filled by a staff member of the company and Darcy, Harley, Sam and Greg toasted to the success of the new comic book heroine.
Day after day went by and except for a phone call from an overly excited and overly emotional Orlando, gushing on and on about how proud he was of her, Darcy heard nothing about either the failure or the success of her book. Greg had warned her it might take a while and that she might have to go on a promotional campaign, but he promised to keep her posted.
Then, in the early morning of a dreary November day, her phone rang.
“Darcy speaking.”
“Darcy, good morning, this is Greg.”
“Good morning to you too. What can I do for you?”
“Have you read the newspaper yet?”
Since she was sharing her newspaper with Sonia, she usually didn’t get it until lunchtime.
“No, I haven’t. Why do you ask?”
She could hear him laugh and she felt eerily relieved. So this was good news indeed.
“There’s a review in it, one I thought you might like to read.”
|
|
21/Mar/2008, 5:53
|
Send Email to comanchero
Send PM to comanchero
|
comanchero
Budding
Global user
Posts: 82
|
|
Reply | Quote
|
|
Re: Not so easy - a new orlando Bloom story.
Chapter eight, part III
As if on cue, a knock could be heard on her door.
“Greg, can you hold on for a second? I think someone needs me for something. I wonder what for.”
“Sure, I’ll hold.”
She settled the cordless phone on her lap and wheeled herself to the front door, twisting the key to open it for Sonia. Though the Bloom family had its own key, they never used it unless there was some kind of emergency. This time however, Sonia was already fumbling with the spare key, too impatient to wait.
The very moment the door opened, Orlando’s mom stumbled in, waving the newspaper around like an excited child. At that particular moment, she looked so much like her son, it was almost uncanny.
“Darcy…oh my God…you’ve got to read this. It’s amazing.” She thrust the paper into her hands.
“Hold on, please, Sonia. I was on the phone.”
As Sonia nodded, barely able to contain her excitement, Darcy picked up the phone resting on her legs again.
“Greg, you still there?”
“Yeah. And eh…I think you’re about to find out why I’m so happy. And why your landlady seems to be.”
“Well, can’t wait.”
“You know what? Read it, then call me back, okay?”
“Will do.” She hung up and grabbed the paper.
Wendy wasn’t doing as well as she had expected. It was doing even better! The first print was almost out of stock and there already was a growing demand for more. Not only avid comic readers loved this new kind of action heroine, but Wendy had found her way into schools, hospitals, clinics. Children with all kinds of handicaps felt more normal and at ease with themselves. A wheelchair, always dreaded, now became a status symbol. Though most children were warned by their doctors to remind themselves that their chairs, crutches, braces or canes did not hold any magical powers and that caution was still needed, lest they would injure themselves even further by reenacting Wendy’s adventures.
This first review set off the beginning of the busiest weeks of Darcy’s life as she was being dragged from one book signing to a visit to the children’s hospital. Kids liked her even more when they found out she wrote from experience rather than just imagination.
The second edition was printed only five weeks after the launch and the pressure of a whole new album was building.
Furthermore, translations were being made in French, German, Dutch, Spanish, Danish, Swedish and Russian for starters and Greg was busy trying to launch Wendy in the United States and several Asian countries. Australia and New Zealand being part of the commonwealth meant they were set to be released out there in early 2000. All in all, it was quite a way to end the millennium and to start the new one.
By the time Christmas 1999 came along, Darcy was exhausted. Happy, but drained. Greg had invited her to a huge party held for all kinds of writers at the publishing company, but she had declined politely. Even if this party could be good for publicity, she just wanted to celebrate Christmas Eve and the days after that at home, with her friends. And hopefully, a phone call from Orlando.
Of course the call came, turning out to be very emotional. Normally, Orlando was being kept way too busy to miss them much, but now, with the holidays, his voice was thick with tears of being homesick.
“Darcy, Love…I’m just so proud of you. This is such a big hit. The entire cast and crew here have read my copy, it’s the second most read book over here, except for the trilogy of course, but you’re quite popular. They actually bullied me into asking you for some more copies, but hey, you know what? They’re just gonna have to wait until Wendy’s being published over here.”
“Hey, I have to make money out of this album and I can’t by giving them all away.”
“Don’t. Most of these wankers over here are accomplished actors with some cash in their wallets, so don’t feel sorry for depriving them of a few bucks.”
“Not sorry at all.”
They laughed and joked for a couple of minutes, until Darcy gave the phone back to Sam. She didn’t want to be the last one to talk to him, didn’t want to be the one to have to hang up and hear his last burst of homesickness.
She missed him too much and he had at the very least another year to go before he would return to them.
Darcy was beginning to think she’d made a big mistake by turning him down. Her mind was still glad she did it, but her traitorous heart…
So she raised a glass on Christmas Eve, plastered a smile on her face during both Christmas day and Boxing Day and even fought her way through a tear filled version of ‘Olde Lang Syne’ on New Years Eve. The year 2000 had officially begun.
And what a year it would be. She was glad she didn’t have a crystal ball.
AN: Lucky for you readers, I do. Let me know if you wanna know what's coming next!
|
|
21/Mar/2008, 5:55
|
Send Email to comanchero
Send PM to comanchero
|
mzkiwi
Blooming
Global user
Location: chasing some Canterbury Tail!
Posts: 1085
|
|
Reply | Quote
|
|
Re: Not so easy - a new orlando Bloom story.
Great update!
Of course I would love to find out what's going on with these twp crazy people, but I will wait, even if it's impatiently  .
---
"I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn't resolve. But sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself."
|
|
21/Mar/2008, 14:11
|
Send Email to mzkiwi
Send PM to mzkiwi
AIM
|
mzkiwi
Blooming
Global user
Location: chasing some Canterbury Tail!
Posts: 1085
|
|
Reply | Quote
|
|
Re: Not so easy - a new orlando Bloom story.
Great update!
Of course I would love to find out what's going on with these twp crazy people, but I will wait, even if it's impatiently .
---
"I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn't resolve. But sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself."
|
|
21/Mar/2008, 14:11
|
Send Email to mzkiwi
Send PM to mzkiwi
AIM
|
comanchero
Budding
Global user
Posts: 82
|
|
Reply | Quote
|
|
Re: Not so easy - a new orlando Bloom story.
AN: First of all: I'm not a surgeon, so I really don't know if the events as I describe them in this chapter are even remotely possible. Just do me a favor and remember this is fiction, okay?
Enjoy the chapter which will change the entire future of Darcy and Orlando.
Chapter nine, part I
Busy. It was the only way to describe the first two months of the new year for Darcy. Plain and simple busy. Or hectic. Exhausting. Anyway, any term along those lines would do.
Her second album was sold out within two weeks, making three more editions necessary. She was currently working out some ideas to start a third story.
Fan mail was finding its way to her and hospitals and clinics asked her permission to use Wendy in children’s guides, stating that right now, her cartoon child held more authority over youthful disabled than doctors did. Happily, she offered all the help they asked her for.
On very rare occasions, she allowed herself a day off and today, a dreary day at the end of February, she just decided to stay in bed. Her stomach was a little queasy and she had a bad case of the sniffles.
She stayed in bed for as long as it felt comfortable, but the growling of her stomach indicated she had overstayed her welcome between the warm comfortable blankets.
Reluctantly and more than a bit dizzy, she pushed the blankets away, shivered when the cold hit her and quickly hauled herself out of bed and in the general vicinity of her chair.
Not quite close enough.
With a thud, she landed on her backside, sliding her back against her nightstand. It hurt her so much, she didn’t even hear herself curse before slipping into oblivion.
An ongoing blazing sound woke her. Disoriented, she tried to move, only to find herself being strapped down to a gurney. The sound was coming from the alarm of a speeding ambulance. Even more disturbing: she was in it.
What had happened? Throwing her head around wildly, she finally focused on a very worried looking Sam, sitting next to her.
“Sam?” Was that her voice? It sounded so…distant, so hoarse.
“I’m here, Darcy. I found you unconscious next to your bed. I didn’t know what else to do, so I called an ambulance. You…you were…”
She trailed off, looking insecure and scared, making Darcy gulp with dread.
“I was what, Sam? Please, tell me all.”
“Darcy…I don’t know, maybe it was nothing, maybe I even imagined it, but for a moment it seemed like you were twitching your legs.”
“But I’m paralyzed, Sam. You must have imagined it.”
The older girl grasped her hand nervously, more to get support than to give it.
“I don’t know…I mean, I know it couldn’t be possible, but I…I wanted you to be checked out. Just in case, you know. Besides, Orli would kill me if I didn’t take care of you.”
They arrived at the ER of the local hospital and she thanked God when the horns stopped blaring. The paramedics rushed her into the room, with Sam coming up close behind them. A nurse held her back, gently but firmly, while Darcy was immediately being transferred to an empty exam room.
For the nest half hour, there were some very hectic movements taking place all around her as doctors and nurses alike swarmed around her like killer bees with white coats on.
Someone was drawing blood, they checked all vital signs and when deemed alive, she was being wheeled into Radiology for some x-ray pictures.
Just as fast as the craziness had started, it ended, with the patient being left to her own devices as those same beehive creatures disappeared behind curtains to check on the results. Luckily, they allowed Sam to come in and keep her company.
Darcy didn’t understand the fuss they all made. What was the problem? She fell, hit the nightstand and blacked out. So what? She didn’t hit her head, wasn’t bleeding, wasn’t dying. All she needed was an aspirin, something warm to eat and go back to bed for a refreshing nap.
All she had was a cold, not the freakin’ plague. She didn’t even run a fever and as soon as someone, anyone came back in, she would tell them she was not amused. Not even close.
It took hours. In between the long waits, a nurse came in to check on her and she was allowed to let Sam get them some food from the cafeteria, which she ate without a complaint. She guessed she was more hungry than she imagined.
Still, even with a full stomach, she was growing tired of being there when nothing was wrong.
However, when the doctor finally came in, the look on his face was so peculiar, she didn’t dare be a smart ass now.
“Miss Meehan?”
“Yes?”
“My apologies for keeping you in the dark, miss. I’m doctor Sheppard, neurosurgeon. I have the results of your x-rays right here. And I have to admit, I’m most surprised.”
“Just tell me what’s going on, please. Did I really twitch my legs or was that just Sam’s imagination playing tricks on her?”
“It’s safe to say that it was not some figment of imagination. Let me show you.”
He switched on a light panel and shoved the x-ray in it. Her spinal chord showed up, with the bullet. Only…
He put in another x-ray.
“These are pictures taken just after your shooting. I had them sent in by courier, that’s why it took us so long to get back to you. We had to make sure that we saw what we saw. Now tell me, can you yourself see the difference?”
Upon close inspection, she could. The bullet, which had always been lodged between two of her lower vertebrae, was now a practically floating projectile against the white outline of her spine.
“I can see the bullet’s no longer in the same place it was, but what does this all mean?”
“We think the impact of your fall must have caused the bullet to dislodge itself. That’s why your legs were twitching; your nerve system was active for the first time in over three years.”
“So…if it’s working…does that mean, could it be…”
“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, we’re a long way from that. First of all, we need to retrieve the bullet now. We can’t allow it to follow a random path of it’s own and possibly doing even more damage, but once we have it taken out, nothing is blocking your signals anymore and you could learn how to walk again. But let’s take one step at a time okay? I’ll schedule you in for surgery tomorrow. Do you have any questions?”
|
|
4/Apr/2008, 8:34
|
Send Email to comanchero
Send PM to comanchero
|
Add a reply
Page: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
|
You are not logged in (login)
Board's time is: 1/Dec/2009, 5:10
|
|
|
But I like Orlando's idea for when he returns 
and that she is in love with him.