The Magic Thread!

[rknapp]

The auburn-haired young man stood at the station, watching a train depart. It had brought him part of the way towards his destination, but no further. The rest was up to him. After a heavy sigh, he flung the backpack over his shoulders and picked up the suitcase with the initials JTC. He had a long walk ahead of him, with an uncertain future at the end.

 

 

There had been a recent rain storm the birds just beginning to sing and stir again. His sneakers were sinking slightly in the mud as he continued his slow walk towards the small town. The world around him was cast in a sunless foggy haze in the early afternoon. It was cool out and no one was stirring around him reminding him just how lonely this trek could be.

 

The young man started to rehearse what he was going to say. "Hi, I'm Justin." He shook his head. "Mr. Leiberman? You don't know me, but my mother told me you're my father. My name is Justin." Justin pulled a face. That sound so fake that he thought he would be lucky not to have the door slammed in his face. "Mr. Leiberman. I believe you used to know my mother, Mary Coulson." Justin gave a wry smile. It wasn't good, but it was the best opening line he could think of.

 

It didn't really need to be quite so shocking, since he wanted to at least catch a small glimpse of the other half of himself before dropping any sort of a bomb like this. As far as Justin knew, Mr. Leiberman was simply an educated man who has spent the past eighteen years not knowing that one night of passion led to something as wonderful, or destructive, depending on how you looked at it, as Justin T. Coulson. Unfortunately, Justin knew so little about Ben Leiberman that he wondered if he was going to be the latter for the man who was about to be made conscious to the fact that he has been a father for half of his life.

[C James]

I doubt you're the only mechanically inept person here, Graeme; although I wouldn't describe myself that way. I don't really mess with tools all that often, but there's definitely a do-it-yourself streak in me. LOL, I use my cordless drill semi-often

 

I think people need more fiber in their diets!

 

Kevin, keep learning with the power tools; you'll be taking fashion advice from me in no time.

 

This thread is like a flytrap; even a lurker like me has to post! It's diabolical, I say!

[colinian]

Kevin, keep learning with the power tools; you'll be taking fashion advice from me in no time.

 

This thread is like a flytrap; even a lurker like me has to post! It's diabolical, I say!

 

Goats give fashion advice? Really? Amazing! I thought their interest in things fashion was to eat them. Or are you just pulling our leg, CJ?

 

 

Colin

[Graeme]

The auburn-haired young man stood at the station, watching a train depart. It had brought him part of the way towards his destination, but no further. The rest was up to him. After a heavy sigh, he flung the backpack over his shoulders and picked up the suitcase with the initials JTC. He had a long walk ahead of him, with an uncertain future at the end.

 

There had been a recent rain storm the birds just beginning to sing and stir again. His sneakers were sinking slightly in the mud as he continued his slow walk towards the small town. The world around him was cast in a sunless foggy haze in the early afternoon. It was cool out and no one was stirring around him reminding him just how lonely this trek could be.

 

The young man started to rehearse what he was going to say. "Hi, I'm Justin." He shook his head. "Mr. Leiberman? You don't know me, but my mother told me you're my father. My name is Justin." Justin pulled a face. That sound so fake that he thought he would be lucky not to have the door slammed in his face. "Mr. Leiberman. I believe you used to know my mother, Mary Coulson." Justin gave a wry smile. It wasn't good, but it was the best opening line he could think of.

 

It didn't really need to be quite so shocking, since he wanted to at least catch a small glimpse of the other half of himself before dropping any sort of a bomb like this. As far as Justin knew, Mr. Leiberman was simply an educated man who has spent the past eighteen years not knowing that one night of passion led to something as wonderful, or destructive, depending on how you looked at it, as Justin T. Coulson. Unfortunately, Justin knew so little about Ben Leiberman that he wondered if he was going to be the latter for the man who was about to be made conscious to the fact that he has been a father for half of his life.

 

Justin was still trying to work out if he was making a big mistake -- it had seemed like a great idea when he had headed to the train station -- when a rusty old pickup pulled up next to him.

 

"Need a lift, young fella?"

 

Justin stared at the weather-beaten face of the old man for a moment. "I'm only going as far as the town. It's not that far, but thanks for the offer."

 

"You've not been here before, have you." It was more a statement than a question.

 

"No, this is my first time."

 

"Just over that hill ahead there's a section of the road that's unmade. After the rain we've just had, It'll be a massive mud pool. You won't be able to walk through it." The old man cocked his head. "Get in and I'll take you to the other side. If you really want to keep walking, I'll drop you off once we're past the mud."

 

Justin thought about it and decided he didn't have anything to lose. "Okay, thanks."

[Bardeara]

Justin flipped the backpack off his shoulders and heaved it over the side and into the back of the pickup truck. He then opened the passenger door and hopped in while closing the door in one swift motion as not to slam the door. Justin thought the old man was going to start driving, but instead he just starred at him and waited almost like he was waiting for something first.

 

 

Darn, I was caught into Kevin's trap

[Ieshwar]

"Excuse me," Justin said as the man came out of his trance.

 

"Sorry, I was lost a bit. It's your eyes. They remind me of someone, someone very special. Ok, tell me about you, lad. You don't seem to be like the one to roam uselessly. What brought you here?" the man said as he turned the engine on.

[Bardeara]

Justin gripped the suitcase tighter while rubbing his thumb over the initials. Although he had placed the backpack in the back of the truck, he knew deep down he couldn

[AFriendlyFace]

Well I'll have a go too!

"The truth," said the old man, "can be a very dangerous thing."

 

Justin pondered the old man's words. Undoubtedly he was correct. Whatever awaited Justin on the other side of that pool of mud would change his life. Indeed it would change his whole perception of himself.

 

As Justin sat lost in thought he suddenly became aware of a sinking sensation. At first he thought it was simply his stomach responding to his nervousness. Soon however he realised that it was in fact the truck slowly sinking into the mud.

 

Suddenly the truck's wheels began to spin, desperately trying to find hard ground.

 

"Damn!" the old man cursed. "We're stuck. Don't worry though..."

 

Justin's apprehension over meeting his father, combined with the sudden shock and fear of becoming stuck in the large pool of mud proved to be too much for him. Without waiting for the old man to finish his sentence Justin flung open the door and leaped out.

[colinian]

The momentum of his leap carried Justin several feet from the truck, but not nearly far enough to clear the pool of mud. He sunk past his ankles into the cold muck. "Shit!"

 

He heard the old man's voice from the truck. "Ain't shit, just mud. But you sure got yourself into one fine mess now, haven't you? Why in tarnation did you jump into the middle of that mud?"

 

"I thought I could clear it, get to where it's more solid. Guess I didn't make it, though."

 

The old man chortled. "Sure looks that way, doesn't it. Also looks like now I've got two problems, a truck stuck in the mud and a boy stuck in the mud. First things first. Can you move?"

 

Justin tried to pull one of his legs up. He could feel his foot pulling out of his shoe. "Shit!"

 

"Boy, I told you that's not shit." The old man's laughter was contagious, and Justin couldn't keep from laughing at his predicament, at himself.

 

"I can't get my feet out, they're coming out of my shoes."

 

"Well, you might as well pull them on out and get over to the solid part there in front of the grocer's. If you step out of your shoes, you'll hafta just reach down and pull them out. Don't wanta leave 'em behind, when this stuff dries you'll never find 'em."

 

Juggling his suitcase, Justin managed to extricate himself and his shoes. He slogged over to the front of the store, holding his shoes in one hand and his suitcase in the other. He set everything down, and sat on the wooden step in front of the now-closed store. He heard a snuffling noise to his right. It was a small dog, standing there looking at him. The dog walked a few tentative steps closer, and its tail started wagging like he knew Justin.

 

"Hi, boy, how are you? What are you doing out here all by yourself?"

 

The dog moved along side of Justin and rubbed his muzzle on Justin's thigh, letting out a whimper.

 

"You lost boy? Huh?" Justin reached down and scratched the dog's head. He looked up to ask the old man if he knew who owned the dog. All he saw was the truck, still stuck in the mud. but the old man was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly Justin felt alone, as alone as he'd felt when he started his journey.

 

 

Colin

[Bondwriter]

The Show so Far

The auburn-haired young man stood at the station, watching a train depart. It had brought him part of the way towards his destination, but no further. The rest was up to him. After a heavy sigh, he flung the backpack over his shoulders and picked up the suitcase with the initials JTC. He had a long walk ahead of him, with an uncertain future at the end.

 

There had been a recent rain storm the birds just beginning to sing and stir again. His sneakers were sinking slightly in the mud as he continued his slow walk towards the small town. The world around him was cast in a sunless foggy haze in the early afternoon. It was cool out and no one was stirring around him reminding him just how lonely this trek could be.

 

The young man started to rehearse what he was going to say. "Hi, I'm Justin." He shook his head. "Mr. Leiberman? You don't know me, but my mother told me you're my father. My name is Justin." Justin pulled a face. That sound so fake that he thought he would be lucky not to have the door slammed in his face. "Mr. Leiberman. I believe you used to know my mother, Mary Coulson." Justin gave a wry smile. It wasn't good, but it was the best opening line he could think of.

 

It didn't really need to be quite so shocking, since he wanted to at least catch a small glimpse of the other half of himself before dropping any sort of a bomb like this. As far as Justin knew, Mr. Leiberman was simply an educated man who has spent the past eighteen years not knowing that one night of passion led to something as wonderful, or destructive, depending on how you looked at it, as Justin T. Coulson. Unfortunately, Justin knew so little about Ben Leiberman that he wondered if he was going to be the latter for the man who was about to be made conscious to the fact that he has been a father for half of his life.

 

Justin was still trying to work out if he was making a big mistake -- it had seemed like a great idea when he had headed to the train station -- when a rusty old pickup pulled up next to him.

 

"Need a lift, young fella?"

 

Justin stared at the weather-beaten face of the old man for a moment. "I'm only going as far as the town. It's not that far, but thanks for the offer."

 

"You've not been here before, have you." It was more a statement than a question.

 

"No, this is my first time."

 

"Just over that hill ahead there's a section of the road that's unmade. After the rain we've just had, It'll be a massive mud pool. You won't be able to walk through it." The old man cocked his head. "Get in and I'll take you to the other side. If you really want to keep walking, I'll drop you off once we're past the mud."

 

Justin thought about it and decided he didn't have anything to lose. "Okay, thanks."

 

Justin flipped the backpack off his shoulders and heaved it over the side and into the back of the pickup truck. He then opened the passenger door and hopped in while closing the door in one swift motion as not to slam the door. Justin thought the old man was going to start driving, but instead he just starred at him and waited almost like he was waiting for something first.

 

"Excuse me," Justin said as the man came out of his trance.

 

"Sorry, I was lost a bit. It's your eyes. They remind me of someone, someone very special. Ok, tell me about you, lad. You don't seem to be like the one to roam uselessly. What brought you here?" the man said as he turned the engine on.

 

Justin gripped the suitcase tighter while rubbing his thumb over the initials. Although he had placed the backpack in the back of the truck, he knew deep down he couldn

[Graeme]

The auburn-haired young man stood at the station, watching a train depart. It had brought him part of the way towards his destination, but no further. The rest was up to him. After a heavy sigh, he flung the backpack over his shoulders and picked up the suitcase with the initials JTC. He had a long walk ahead of him, with an uncertain future at the end.

 

There had been a recent rain storm the birds just beginning to sing and stir again. His sneakers were sinking slightly in the mud as he continued his slow walk towards the small town. The world around him was cast in a sunless foggy haze in the early afternoon. It was cool out and no one was stirring around him reminding him just how lonely this trek could be.

 

The young man started to rehearse what he was going to say. "Hi, I'm Justin." He shook his head. "Mr. Leiberman? You don't know me, but my mother told me you're my father. My name is Justin." Justin pulled a face. That sound so fake that he thought he would be lucky not to have the door slammed in his face. "Mr. Leiberman. I believe you used to know my mother, Mary Coulson." Justin gave a wry smile. It wasn't good, but it was the best opening line he could think of.

 

It didn't really need to be quite so shocking, since he wanted to at least catch a small glimpse of the other half of himself before dropping any sort of a bomb like this. As far as Justin knew, Mr. Leiberman was simply an educated man who has spent the past eighteen years not knowing that one night of passion led to something as wonderful, or destructive, depending on how you looked at it, as Justin T. Coulson. Unfortunately, Justin knew so little about Ben Leiberman that he wondered if he was going to be the latter for the man who was about to be made conscious to the fact that he has been a father for half of his life.

 

Justin was still trying to work out if he was making a big mistake -- it had seemed like a great idea when he had headed to the train station -- when a rusty old pickup pulled up next to him.

 

"Need a lift, young fella?"

 

Justin stared at the weather-beaten face of the old man for a moment. "I'm only going as far as the town. It's not that far, but thanks for the offer."

 

"You've not been here before, have you." It was more a statement than a question.

 

"No, this is my first time."

 

"Just over that hill ahead there's a section of the road that's unmade. After the rain we've just had, It'll be a massive mud pool. You won't be able to walk through it." The old man cocked his head. "Get in and I'll take you to the other side. If you really want to keep walking, I'll drop you off once we're past the mud."

 

Justin thought about it and decided he didn't have anything to lose. "Okay, thanks."

 

Justin flipped the backpack off his shoulders and heaved it over the side and into the back of the pickup truck. He then opened the passenger door and hopped in while closing the door in one swift motion as not to slam the door. Justin thought the old man was going to start driving, but instead he just starred at him and waited almost like he was waiting for something first.

 

"Excuse me," Justin said as the man came out of his trance.

 

"Sorry, I was lost a bit. It's your eyes. They remind me of someone, someone very special. Ok, tell me about you, lad. You don't seem to be like the one to roam uselessly. What brought you here?" the man said as he turned the engine on.

 

Justin gripped the suitcase tighter while rubbing his thumb over the initials. Although he had placed the backpack in the back of the truck, he knew deep down he couldn

[Bondwriter]

Justin laughed at himself. Immaculate white? His sneakers were now permanently a yellow-brown.

 

He stood up and frowned. It was mid afternoon, but the street was deserted. There wasn't even the sound of a child crying, or any vehicles. A slight breeze caused the grocers' sign to swing slowly from side-to-side, but it didn't lift the foggy haze. Justin slowly turned around. He couldn't escape the feeling that he was the only one around -- that he had wandered into a ghost town.

He walked down the sidewalk. All stores seemed empty, as did the houses. The only signs of life could be seen in the sky, with a few birds hovering above the town, high in the sky; higher yet, the smoke trailing from an aircraft told him of people sitting patiently and waiting to reach their destination, their loved ones or their colleagues. Did he himself feel as if there was someone waiting for him somewhere? No, he didn't. As he crossed the street, he reached the corner where the Happy Joe's Diner stood. Though no one was in from what he could see, there was a dim light glowing somewhere in the back.

 

He stepped forward, grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. The door opened quite easily, and he didn't hear the expected creaking sound rusty hinges produced.

[Jack Scribe]

He stepped forward, grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. The door opened quite easily, and he didn't hear the expected creaking sound rusty hinges produced.

 

Justin could smell fresh coffee and hear the sizzle of food being prepared beyond the open window between the diner and the kitchen. Once he adjusted his eyesight for the dim light, he could make out forms sitting at the counter. But upon closer inspection, the sight was unsettling.

 

"Oh, my god," he gasped as he stopped dead in his tracks. "What's happened here?" The forms were skeletons that were draped in decaying clothes.

[Razor]

Hmm.. I'm too extroverted for my own good really... lol.

A name that I would like to rename myself hmm... I love the names Cassidy and Scarlett or I'd rather just use Krista instead of Christina.. lol.

Krista

 

 

My social ability depends on my mood and the people I'm with. Sometimes I'm not worth a damn to talk to because I'm too wrapped up in my own stuff. Then, sometimes, I get in the mood to talk and have fun and be silly, and it's great.

 

Scarlett, huh? That's inviting dumb northerners to make fun of you. I happen to think it's a beautiful name, though. The only Cassidy I ever met was a boy, so it just doesn't fit you in my head, lol.

 

I'm going to forsake the round robin thing on this post, because it's nine in the morning and I'm getting a little tired.

[Ieshwar]

Justin found himself leaning on a vase to support himself but before he could realise what happened, "CRASH!" The sound resounded in the whole house as both Justin and the vase fell to the ground.

 

"Who's there?" a voice said.

 

Scared, Justin got up and was about to get out when he saw a young guy, proabaly same age as him, staring amusingly at him.

 

"So, you got scared of my artistic feat?" he said, laying emphasis on the last two words, "Don't worry, they're all made up of clay. And they don't bite!"

[Bondwriter]

He came nearer, drawing no motion from what was a typical small town crowd at this time of the day, and for a good reason, as they were all made out of clay. Though the unsettling thing was the smell: where Justin came from, the coffee never was fresh by mid-afternoon. As he was now in sight of the grease table, he grew downright spooked: there was no bacon shivering over the hot metal. And the coffee pot was empty. Phantom smells? He'd heard about these, but to Justin these belonged to cheap TV shows for teenagers who had not imagination enough to make up scary stories gathering by a fire camp.

 

He turned towards the guy who'd just talked to him. He just couldn't believe what he then saw.

"If I get out of this alive, I'll become a screenwriter in LA, no doubt."

But he had more pressing matters to deal with than his career plans.

[James Albert]

He came nearer, drawing no motion from what was a typical small town crowd at this time of the day, and for a good reason, as they were all made out of clay. Though the unsettling thing was the smell: where Justin came from, the coffee never was fresh by mid-afternoon. As he was now in sight of the grease table, he grew downright spooked: there was no bacon shivering over the hot metal. And the coffee pot was empty. Phantom smells? He'd heard about these, but to Justin these belonged to cheap TV shows for teenagers who had not imagination enough to make up scary stories gathering by a fire camp.

 

He turned towards the guy who'd just talked to him. He just couldn't believe what he then saw.

"If I get out of this alive, I'll become a screenwriter in LA, no doubt."

But he had more pressing matters to deal with than his career plans.

 

The boy who had confessed to creating the artistic monstrosity now stood right beside him. The boys eye's were close to Justins, they were embeded deep into the boys head and were darker than eyes should be. The strength of the black in the boys gaze seemed to make his eye appear as though they had no whites. What was most unnerving about the boys appearence was the way that his nose, his mouth, his cheekbones and the light shade of his hair reminded justin exactly of himself.

Justin felt uncomfortable so close to a stranger and moved back, this allowed him a better look at the boy, Justin could almost swear he was looking into a mirror if it weren't for the differences in clothes and the boys incredible eyes. It was then, as Justin was observing the boys uncanny appearence that he noticed the sharp, white glint of the meat clever in the boys left hand.

[Bondwriter]

Yeah! A new poster! Welcome, James Albert!

The boy who had confessed to creating the artistic monstrosity now stood right beside him. The boys eye's were close to Justin's, they were embedded deep into the boys head and were darker than eyes should be. The strength of the black in the boys gaze seemed to make his eye appear as though they had no whites. What was most unnerving about the boys appearance was the way that his nose, his mouth, his cheekbones and the light shade of his hair reminded justin exactly of himself.

Justin felt uncomfortable so close to a stranger and moved back, this allowed him a better look at the boy, Justin could almost swear he was looking into a mirror if it weren't for the differences in clothes and the boys incredible eyes. It was then, as Justin was observing the boys uncanny appearence that he noticed the sharp, white glint of the meat clever in the boys left hand.

It would have been tempting to remain there and Justin just stared, fascinated. But the meat cleaver being all so subtly set into an upward motion got Justin not into meditation, but into action. He turned his heel and ran to the door. If he wanted to become a fiction hero, he'd better make it outside the greasy spoon diner alive. He opened the door, the frame which the butcher's tool damaged with a dull thump as it stuck into the wood a mere inches from Justin's skull. He slammed the door behind him, and headed where he came from.

 

He almost got run over by a car, the angry driver of which honked before he yelled something quite nasty, that had to see with maternal love-making but that betrayed some deeply annoyed intent. As he reached the sidewalk, Justin realized that the street was full of noise and people. What was wrong with him? Or what was wrong with this town?

[Krista]

It would have been tempting to remain there and Justin just stared, fascinated. But the meat cleaver being all so subtly set into an upward motion got Justin not into meditation, but into action. He turned his heel and ran to the door. If he wanted to become a fiction hero, he'd better make it outside the greasy spoon diner alive. He opened the door, the frame which the butcher's tool damaged with a dull thump as it stuck into the wood a mere inches from Justin's skull. He slammed the door behind him, and headed where he came from.

 

He almost got run over by a car, the angry driver of which honked before he yelled something quite nasty, that had to see with maternal love-making but that betrayed some deeply annoyed intent. As he reached the sidewalk, Justin realized that the street was full of noise and people. What was wrong with him? Or what was wrong with this town?

 

"There you are boy," the old man said as he walked up to where Justin was standing, "the truck is free if you're ready to go."

 

"Where am I?" Justin asked stepping away from the old man.

 

"Well you're in town," the old man answered studying the boy wondering why he seemed nervous. Nothing had happened out of the ordinary all day, but seeing the new slightly familiar face wandering in the street he felt he needed to help the boy on his way.

 

"I know that," Justin said still clutching his suitcase feeling more protective of his possessions.

 

"Your other bag is still in the back of the truck," the man said, "why don't I just take you to the courthouse so that you can find what you're looking for."

 

"How did you know I was looking for something?" Justin asked still apprehensive about talking to the people here. From what he saw so far this town wasn't the place he wanted to stay in for too much longer.

 

"Cause we don't get new people in these parts," the old man said with a slight chuckle as he motioned for Justin to follow him back to the truck.

[Bondwriter]

Justin got out of the truck.

"There's a motel three blocks from here. It's over there," the old man said pointing to the south. "I hope you discover what you've been trying to find out, however scary." he added, without the least threat in his voice in spite of the strange words.

 

Justin walked up the three steps leading into the county courthouse, a sturdy brick building. It smelled of old paper, cheap cleaning products and bee wax. The hall was black and white tiles, bare of any furniture. There was a glass on the right side, with stick-up letters spelling "reception". Justin had to get information about a Mr. Leiberman; it wouldn't be too difficult to find some.

 

There was a lady behind the desk, but before he could even greet her and ask where and how he could look into the archives, she cut off any possible conversation.

"We're closed, please come back tomorrow, at 9:30."

Now, could Justin afford to waste time when the hours on the front door had said the public was welcome until 5:00 and it was only 4:50?

 

(BTW, does viewing the whole subject in a new window increase the post count? If so, somebody'd better copy and paste the whole story so it travels from page 3 to page 4. An easy mission for the next poster.)

[Graeme]

The auburn-haired young man stood at the station, watching a train depart. It had brought him part of the way towards his destination, but no further. The rest was up to him. After a heavy sigh, he flung the backpack over his shoulders and picked up the suitcase with the initials JTC. He had a long walk ahead of him, with an uncertain future at the end.

 

There had been a recent rain storm the birds just beginning to sing and stir again. His sneakers were sinking slightly in the mud as he continued his slow walk towards the small town. The world around him was cast in a sunless foggy haze in the early afternoon. It was cool out and no one was stirring around him reminding him just how lonely this trek could be.

 

The young man started to rehearse what he was going to say. "Hi, I'm Justin." He shook his head. "Mr. Leiberman? You don't know me, but my mother told me you're my father. My name is Justin." Justin pulled a face. That sound so fake that he thought he would be lucky not to have the door slammed in his face. "Mr. Leiberman. I believe you used to know my mother, Mary Coulson." Justin gave a wry smile. It wasn't good, but it was the best opening line he could think of.

 

It didn't really need to be quite so shocking, since he wanted to at least catch a small glimpse of the other half of himself before dropping any sort of a bomb like this. As far as Justin knew, Mr. Leiberman was simply an educated man who has spent the past eighteen years not knowing that one night of passion led to something as wonderful, or destructive, depending on how you looked at it, as Justin T. Coulson. Unfortunately, Justin knew so little about Ben Leiberman that he wondered if he was going to be the latter for the man who was about to be made conscious to the fact that he has been a father for half of his life.

 

Justin was still trying to work out if he was making a big mistake -- it had seemed like a great idea when he had headed to the train station -- when a rusty old pickup pulled up next to him.

 

"Need a lift, young fella?"

 

Justin stared at the weather-beaten face of the old man for a moment. "I'm only going as far as the town. It's not that far, but thanks for the offer."

 

"You've not been here before, have you." It was more a statement than a question.

 

"No, this is my first time."

 

"Just over that hill ahead there's a section of the road that's unmade. After the rain we've just had, It'll be a massive mud pool. You won't be able to walk through it." The old man cocked his head. "Get in and I'll take you to the other side. If you really want to keep walking, I'll drop you off once we're past the mud."

 

Justin thought about it and decided he didn't have anything to lose. "Okay, thanks."

 

Justin flipped the backpack off his shoulders and heaved it over the side and into the back of the pickup truck. He then opened the passenger door and hopped in while closing the door in one swift motion as not to slam the door. Justin thought the old man was going to start driving, but instead he just starred at him and waited almost like he was waiting for something first.

 

"Excuse me," Justin said as the man came out of his trance.

 

"Sorry, I was lost a bit. It's your eyes. They remind me of someone, someone very special. Ok, tell me about you, lad. You don't seem to be like the one to roam uselessly. What brought you here?" the man said as he turned the engine on.

 

Justin gripped the suitcase tighter while rubbing his thumb over the initials. Although he had placed the backpack in the back of the truck, he knew deep down he couldn

[AFriendlyFace]

"Sorry, young man, but around these parts it's understood that no one comes in less than a half hour before closing time."

 

"Well, I ain't from around these parts," Justin replied.

 

"Nevertheless I'm afraid you're going to have to..."

 

"What's going on out there, Betsy?" called a voice from the open doorway just behind the receptionist.

 

"Nothing Mr. Leiberman, just trying to explain to a visitor here about politeness and consideration." Betsy replied as she turned her attention back toward Justin.

 

Justin's attention, however, was anywhere but on Betsy. Suddenly he made up his mind and knew what he had to do! He brushed by Betsy, rudely she would no doubt say, and stepped into the office.

[Graeme]

"You can't go in there!" Betsy was shocked, but by the time she rose to her feet, Justin was already gone.

 

Justin entered the back room. He barely took in the opulent, if archaic, surroundings as he focused on the large gentleman behind the polished oak desk.

 

"Mr. Leiberman? I've been looking for you." Justin mentally kicked himself as he realised he's forgotten all his carefully prepared lines.

 

The man who was his father narrowed his eyes. "And who do you think you are? Around here you don't go barging into private rooms without an invitation."

 

Betsy appeared behind Justin. "I'm sorry, Mr. Leiberman. He just ran past me."

 

"That's okay, Betsy." Trevor Leiberman fixed his gaze on Justin. "Well, young man?"

[Bondwriter]

Uh, question: why do you all include your text in a quote, which makes it impossible to reply? End of question. I included Kevin's and Graeme's contribution (hence the quotes.)

"Sorry, young man, but around these parts it's understood that no one comes in less than a half hour before closing time."

 

"Well, I ain't from around these parts," Justin replied.

 

"Nevertheless I'm afraid you're going to have to..."

 

"What's going on out there, Betsy?" called a voice from the open doorway just behind the receptionist.

 

"Nothing Mr. Leiberman, just trying to explain to a visitor here about politeness and consideration." Betsy replied as she turned her attention back toward Justin.

 

Justin's attention, however, was anywhere but on Betsy. Suddenly he made up his mind and knew what he had to do! He brushed by Betsy, rudely she would no doubt say, and stepped into the office.

 

"You can't go in there!" Betsy was shocked, but by the time she rose to her feet, Justin was already gone.

 

Justin entered the back room. He barely took in the opulent, if archaic, surroundings as he focused on the large gentleman behind the polished oak desk.

 

"Mr. Leiberman? I've been looking for you." Justin mentally kicked himself as he realised he's forgotten all his carefully prepared lines.

 

The man who was his father narrowed his eyes. "And who do you think you are? Around here you don't go barging into private rooms without an invitation."

 

Betsy appeared behind Justin. "I'm sorry, Mr. Leiberman. He just ran past me."

 

"That's okay, Betsy." Trevor Leiberman fixed his gaze on Justin. "Well, young man?"

 

Could Justin really see his father in this balding, fiftyish small town official? It didn't take eons to find an answer. He could see perfectly well this was his father indeed. So Justin had more Leiberman than Coulson in him. The grey eyes were piercing right through him, yet a hint of realization started to burn in them.

"Uh, do you remember Mary-Ann Coulson?"

"Mary-Ann with the shaky hands? What they've done to his man, those hands?" He chuckled as a frat boy who's just tricked a new pledge into making a fool of himself.

"Yes, I remember Mary-Ann. And I have the uncanny feeling you're about to start giving me some baloney about being your father. And I don't really need a fifth paternity suit, believe me..."

[Bardeara]

The auburn-haired young man stood at the station, watching a train depart. It had brought him part of the way towards his destination, but no further. The rest was up to him. After a heavy sigh, he flung the backpack over his shoulders and picked up the suitcase with the initials JTC. He had a long walk ahead of him, with an uncertain future at the end.

 

There had been a recent rain storm the birds just beginning to sing and stir again. His sneakers were sinking slightly in the mud as he continued his slow walk towards the small town. The world around him was cast in a sunless foggy haze in the early afternoon. It was cool out and no one was stirring around him reminding him just how lonely this trek could be.

 

The young man started to rehearse what he was going to say. "Hi, I'm Justin." He shook his head. "Mr. Leiberman? You don't know me, but my mother told me you're my father. My name is Justin." Justin pulled a face. That sound so fake that he thought he would be lucky not to have the door slammed in his face. "Mr. Leiberman. I believe you used to know my mother, Mary Coulson." Justin gave a wry smile. It wasn't good, but it was the best opening line he could think of.

 

It didn't really need to be quite so shocking, since he wanted to at least catch a small glimpse of the other half of himself before dropping any sort of a bomb like this. As far as Justin knew, Mr. Leiberman was simply an educated man who has spent the past eighteen years not knowing that one night of passion led to something as wonderful, or destructive, depending on how you looked at it, as Justin T. Coulson. Unfortunately, Justin knew so little about Ben Leiberman that he wondered if he was going to be the latter for the man who was about to be made conscious to the fact that he has been a father for half of his life.

 

Justin was still trying to work out if he was making a big mistake -- it had seemed like a great idea when he had headed to the train station -- when a rusty old pickup pulled up next to him.

 

"Need a lift, young fella?"

 

Justin stared at the weather-beaten face of the old man for a moment. "I'm only going as far as the town. It's not that far, but thanks for the offer."

 

"You've not been here before, have you." It was more a statement than a question.

 

"No, this is my first time."

 

"Just over that hill ahead there's a section of the road that's unmade. After the rain we've just had, It'll be a massive mud pool. You won't be able to walk through it." The old man cocked his head. "Get in and I'll take you to the other side. If you really want to keep walking, I'll drop you off once we're past the mud."

 

Justin thought about it and decided he didn't have anything to lose. "Okay, thanks."

 

Justin flipped the backpack off his shoulders and heaved it over the side and into the back of the pickup truck. He then opened the passenger door and hopped in while closing the door in one swift motion as not to slam the door. Justin thought the old man was going to start driving, but instead he just starred at him and waited almost like he was waiting for something first.

 

"Excuse me," Justin said as the man came out of his trance.

 

"Sorry, I was lost a bit. It's your eyes. They remind me of someone, someone very special. Ok, tell me about you, lad. You don't seem to be like the one to roam uselessly. What brought you here?" the man said as he turned the engine on.

 

Justin gripped the suitcase tighter while rubbing his thumb over the initials. Although he had placed the backpack in the back of the truck, he knew deep down he couldn