Well that's odd...

So this piece is a little longer obviously. I wrote it for my creative writing class back in 08. It definitely has some issues but the class seemed to like it. I'm still not sure what I want to do with it. I've thought about leaving it as a short story but I've also wanted to take it in a different direction and make it the first chapter to something. I've also liked the idea of making it a one act play or something because it has so much dialogue.I'm oddly attached to it. I've had a couple titles but none of them seem to fit anymore so this will have to do for now. Anyway, tell me what you think!

“So Casey, why are you here today?” Dr. John Dyson asked, examining the young girl sitting before him. Really, he knew why she was here or at least, why her mother had brought her. He was more interested in what he saw before him. Her black pinstripe pants, black shirt with some angry band on it, black nail polish and black eye make-up would be laughably stereotypical if not so out of character for her. Casey’s mother had been his patient for many years and while Casey herself had never been his patient, he had met her plenty of times. He had always found her to be pleasant and kind, if a little shy. The girl now sitting before him was entirely different. However it was not so much her physical appearance that bothered him but her countenance. She was completely cold and closed off.

She sighed. “You know why I’m here John.” she picked up a mallet and plunked a few notes on a small xylophone on the table in front of her. “Mom thinks the divorce has driven me to madness right?” It was said sarcastically, but he could hear the desperation that crept into her voice.
He replied carefully, “I wouldn’t exactly put it like that, though she is worried about you. What do you think she told me?”

“I assume she told you I’ve been talking to myself or that I have and imaginary friend and I’m much to old for that sort of thing.” Again she tried to make it sound as though she couldn’t care less but she couldn’t keep just the slightest break out of her voice.

“Does it hurt your feelings that she doesn’t believe you?” The doctor asked the question because it was the psychiatrist thing to do but he thought he could anticipate her answer before she gave it.

“Please don’t start the psycho talk on me John, you know me better than that. My
mother’s a counselor for christ’s sake.” She angrily wiped away the hot tear that had started to drop from her right eye. Clearly it did hurt her feelings though she was clearly not inclined to admit it.

John tried a different tact, “Okay, so what does Sam have to say?”

Casey snorted quite genuinely at that. Her voice dripped with all the contempt a sixteen year old girl could muster, which was quite a bit, “You know my dad, he said he ‘understands that everyone deals with things in their own way and I can always talk to him about anything.’ Right. He’s too occupied with that stupid bitch to pay me any attention.”
“Your father loves you, you know.”

Casey finally met his glance with her own skeptical stare, “More than himself?”
This time it was John who sighed. He could understand why she felt this way. Divorces are never easy on children, let alone hormonal teenagers, and when you factor in that her dad had left her mom for another women, it was not surprising that she was taking it badly. It wasn’t strictly true that he ‘knew her dad’ though he had obviously met him before. What he knew was Casey and her mother’s point of view and that certainly wasn’t good. He was sure both would admit that the marriage had been over for years but taking up with another woman had probably not been the best way to end things officially. The doctor knew they would have to get back to this but he wanted to get to the root of why her mother had brought her today. “Casey, who is George?”

She crossed her arms defiantly, “He’s a dragon.”

“A real dragon?” Dr. Dyson asked writing on his clipboard.

“Not exactly,” she muttered looking away, “He’s the dragon tapestry that hangs over my bed.”

“And he talks to you?” He had already gotten this much from her mother.
She nodded.

“For how long now?”

She looked up, as though in thought, “I think He woke up the first time mom went on a date and left me alone at the new house.”

Trying not to sound mocking, he asked,”Doesn’t that seem convenient to you?”

“Why yes,” she smirked, “It has been very convenient.”

John pursed his lips in mild annoyance. “You know what I mean Case.”

“Well what do you want me to say?!” she burst out, more upset than either of them had expected, and stood up throwing her arms in the air, “Oh thank you doctor, I had not thought of that at all! You’re right I made him up out of loneliness. Praise God I’m cured!” She rolled her eyes and flopped back on the couch huffing loudly. Her jaw jutted to the right and her lips curled into a sneer that could have rivalled Elvis.

The doctor hoped he had not gone too far in upsetting her and that he would still be able to get something out of her. “ Calm down my dear, we can get into that later. What do you and George talk about?”

The young girl rummaged in her purse, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. “Oh, things. He’s a good listener being attached to the wall and all.”

John took off this glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Casey, you know you can’t smoke that in here.” He had a feeling she did know that and was doing it just to prove how tough she was. She doused the cigarette in the cup of tea he had brought her at the beginning of the session. “Does your mother know about those?” he asked pointing at the cigarette.

Casey shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe. I’m certainly not gonna tell her and you know you can’t.”

The doctor wondered if he was imagining the look of fear hidden behind her defiant expression. “No, I wasn’t going to tell her. It was just a question Case.”

“Whatever,” she muttered rolling her eyes.
John decided that laughing at that cliché might stop what grudging output he was getting from her so instead he said,“Why don’t you talk to your friends about ‘things’? Your mother tells me you’re very popular.”

She rolled her eyes again,”I have friends, but I wouldn’t exactly say I’m popular. Besides I’m not comfortable sharing personal crap with people.”

“You’re sharing with me,” he pointed out.

Casey closed her eyes and sighed in the way of someone explaining something for the
millionth time, or else giving an explanation she had been developing for a while but was now expressing for the first time, "First off, in case you haven’t noticed, I haven’t been terribly forthcoming. Second of all, my mother is paying you to listen. Average people don’t really care what is going on in anyone else's life.”

Dr. Dyson was slightly saddened by Casey’s lack of faith in humanity. Not that he was surprised; she was a teenager after all, “We should get back to George. So he listens to you. And what, Gives you advice?”

She seemed reluctant to tell him the whole truth, “Yeah. He’s very wise. He knows things.”

“Like what to do in certain situations?” he coaxed.

She refused to meet his gaze, “Sure that sort of thing, but he also knows stuff. Like, stuff other people don't...and ...mumble mumble.” She spoke the last words so low he could not quite make them out.

“Excuse me dear, what did you say?”

Her voice was barely audible when she replied, “He can kind of predict the future.”

John was surprised; he never would have seen Casey as being this delusional. According to her mother Casey was a skeptical person, much like her father. Putting on his best psychiatrist face he asked, “Well. Can you give me an example?”

Casey bit her lip and ran her fingers through her recently dyed black hair. She seemed unable to speak at first but once she started it was like a dam breaking. “Well...one morning he told me things might ‘get a little heated’ at school. That day there was a bad fire in the science building -”

“Well that -”

“Then, a few days later, he said I should take some chocolate to my best friend Janice in case she had a bad day and then her boyfriend broke up with her for his ex -”

“Ok, but -”

“Then, another night, when my dad was coming to pick me up, George said to brace myself for an ‘unpleasant surprise.’ My dad took me to meet his girlfriend that night!” Casey finally managed to stop talking. The doctor noticed that the hands clasped in front of her were shaking. He rested his hand on her knee in the most comforting way he could manage.

Before he could say anything she looked up at him and he could tell she was holding back tears. “I’m not crazy.”
She looked so scared. He felt a rush of paternal affection he had not experienced in years. His own children were grown and gone.
John had gotten used talking to average people, with average problems. He was known for his ability to make people feel better about themselves. Casey’s mother for instance, had terrible self esteem and was terrible at standing up for herself. It had been years since he had dealt with this sort of problem. The only possibilities here were that Casey was doing this for attention, she was really going insane, or the world had suddenly changed quite a bit. Before he saw her today, he had hoped for and assumed the first but he was less and less convinced and the last option seemed unlikely. Unfortunately that only left one option. he decided to try every option before he made a rash decision

“Casey,” he said slowly and carefully, “how would you feel about taking a mild antidepressant? Itmight help you deal with all the things going on in your life.”

Casey jumped off the couch and started pacing. “Dammit I knew you wouldn’t believe me! I’m not crazy! At least...I don’t think I am.” She ran both shaking hands threw her hair.
“And I don’t think I’m comfortable with drugs.” This was another thing John had heard that she inherited from her father, although her current anger at him probably wouldn’t let her admit it.

“Well,” he replied trying to convince her, “I’d really like how to see how you react to these. I think they will help you.”

She lowered herself slowly back onto the couch. “Well maybe. John?” she asked nervously, fidgeting, “I’m...not sure I want to get rid of George. I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s always there to listen to me.”

“I understand. That’s why I’m here now.” He couldn’t help offer something he normally wouldn’t; he was already more invested than usual. “Casey I want you to call me any time you need to talk. If you can’t talk to you parents, I’m going to help you get through this.”

Dr. Dyson knew he had to be content with that and handed her the prescription as he walked her to the door. She was about to walk out when she bit her lip and turned around. She had an odd look on her face.
“You’re going on a trip tomorrow right? ” By the look on her face she seemed to be wishing she was wrong.

John was a little startled. “Well yes...but how did you-”

She interrupted him quickly as though she needed to blurt out what she had to say before she lost her nerve. “George wanted me to tell you to catch another flight.”

“Wha..?” He wanted to ask her what she meant but she was already gone; out the door as quick as possible without another glance back. He shook himself a little. It was silly to be worried about the warnings of a prophetic piece of cloth. He reminded himself that he still had packing to do. He would discuss it with her when he returned from New York.

Friends (critique)

(Ooooook so just to get me started, here is the first part of a story I started a while ago when bored/inspired during class one day. Lemme know if this has any redeeming qualities or if it should be scrapped. Seriously, be honest. Go ahead and correct grammar if you must but try not concentrate on that too much. As usual with my my writing the characters are inspired by but not based on real people. I also find it kind of amusing that Lynnette and I both are getting things kicked off with a story where the character starts off waking up a little oddly, although of course the circumstances are completely different. Well, try to enjoy!)

As Marion woke up, the first thing she noticed was that her cheek was glued with drool to the fake black leather of a couch cushion. It only took a couple of seconds to remember where she was. She had woken up on this couch more than few times. She opened her eyes, one at a time, and squinted at the morning light flooding the room. When she lifted her head the pleather released her cheek with a soft "shwock." Marion let out a sound between between a sigh and a groan as she unstuck her slightly sweaty arms as well. She'd crashed at Angela's after plenty of parties but this was the first time she actually didn't remember going to sleep. The last thing she could recall was walking to get donuts around 4 AM, coming home, and sitting on the couch laughing about something. 'Well at least I remember getting to the couch,' she thought.

She turned head and saw Janice, one of her closest friends, curled on the other couch. Marion's brow furrowed slightly. She thought Janice didn't look quite right. Marion wondered groggily why Janice had extra arms. She was almost too tired to care and started to drift off when an image drifted across her mind's eye of Janice on that couch last night sitting with someone... Marion's eyes snapped back open. She dragged herself up slowly so she was half sitting. She groaned again; most of her muscles ached dully and her mouth tasted like moldy sandpaper. Another hard stare across the room confirmed it. The other couch definitely had too many limbs on it. She also saw what she had been hoping not too: directly behind Janice's blond-haired head, was one with darker hair, this one distinctly male.

Marion felt a bit queasy and not because of any residual alcohol that might be in her system. she still thought she might be hallucinating and forced her body into a standing position. When she was sure she was steady enough to be mostly quiet, she inched across the room to the other couch and leaned carefully over Janice. Marion was right, the male head was Taylor's. In a state of vague shock she crossed through the small apartment to the kitchen sink. Every surface in the kitchen was piled with cups, plastic and glass. She picked one that looked clean(ish), rinsed it a bit, filled it, and downed it. The water didn't really help but she wanted to believe it did. She put the glass back down and leaned against the sink trying to figure out what to do. She wanted to wake Janice and Taylor with lots of yelling but she hated confrontation and her head was pounding. It only slightly registered that they were at least dressed. Finally Marion decided she wanted some help.

She refilled her glass and climbed up the stairs laboriously. She was fairly sure her friend Carissa was still asleep in Angela's bed where she had crashed the night before. She was relieved to see that Carissa was already starting to come to. Marion didn't realize how upset and confused she must look until Carissa frowned at her and asked,"Hey, what's wrong? You look like you just had a stroke." Marion didn't say anything. She sat on the foot of the bed and pointed at the floor, indicating the living room below. Carissa was normally the type to ask a lot of questions but her friend looked upset enough that she immediately got up and left the room. Marion listened to her friend go down the stairs, a pause, and then come up the stairs much faster than she had gone down. Carissa came back into the room looking as confused as Marion had, as well as angry. Marion now just looked hurt. Carissa could barely speak.

She took a drink from Marion's water and spluttered out,"Was that-"
Marion nodded.
"With-"
Marion nodded again.
"All night?"
Marion shrugged.
"Did they-"
Marion shrugged again and her eyes watered a bit.
"Oh, sorry Mare!" Carissa said, coming to her senses and sitting down next to her friend. "They're dressed, That's a good sign right?" She was clutching at straws to make Marion feel better.
Marion made a non-comital head movement and finally spoke, "I didn't really think I had a chance with him... and Janice and I did think he might like her but..." she wasn't sure how to continue.
"Bullshit Mare!" Carissa said angrily, "Janice knew you've been in to him for like, ever! When you first thought he might like her, what did she say?"
Marion sighed and stared at her feet, "She said, 'I was her best friend and she would never hurt me by getting with a guy I liked.'"
"Uh huh, and when was that?" Carissa asked.
"Last week."
"That bitch!"

Marion heard something downstairs. Her head snapped up and she put her finger to her lips.

Okey doke, so that's as far as I've gotten! Can't wait to see what the rest of you write!