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Betty Ferrie
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Posts: 1
(16/4/05 11:33 am)
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Sweet Mary
Disclaimer: I own nothing, do u understand. If you wish to sue feel free all you'll get is half a chocolate bar and a ball of lint. The song is called Sweet Mary and is by Equalizer.

Sweet Mary

Rory walked down the empty halls of Chilton. School had let out and hour ago and most of the students had left for home. Unfortunately for Rory she had a meeting with the school councilor once again. Apparently even with the newspaper she still lacked "school involvement". She had thus been asked to join choir.

"Not that I can carry a note with a basket."

Rory was making her way towards the music room to talk to Mrs. Bouvier, the music teacher, so that she could sign up. As Rory rounded the corner the soft and steady strums of a guitar could be heard. The tune seemed almost hopeless. As it echoed through the halls Rory felt an emptiness and sadness surround her. She began to wonder what song could be filled with such melancholy. Suddenly a voice rang through and she found herself absorbed by the lyrics.

"It was the year of our father 1900 and 76 in GA,/When I first met my Mary quite contrary to what my mother did say,/She was a mountain girl come to Spanish town I was only there for a while, /But when I think back on all the love we shared I just cant quite help to smile./We spent one whole long year together and at the end I had to go,/By my Mary's side I wept and cried I'd never been laid so low./She said boy when you first met me you were as green as a mango tree,/Ooo but now you are a man go back to your land but first listen carefully,

Cause you can smoke two pounds of cali herb by yourself then try to stand on your head,/No matter how high you get you'll never forget the wonders of Mary's bed."

Rory rounded the comer to the entrance of the music room only to find herself facing the back of none other than Tristan DuGrey. The "King" himself had returned at the beginning of the year, upon his father's request. Although the two would greet each other in the hallways, Tristan seemed to be avoiding her. He continued singing as if no one was there, Rory assumed that he hadn't heard her and though it best to leave. But as she turned to leave she found her body unwilling to move. The song once again captured her and the lyrics began to entrance her.

"Now my Mary's sweet smell was in my nose and vision it robbed me blind,/And as I crossed the sea it occurred to me that I'd left myself behind./She was my natural mystic sweet sugar plumb I still ask why did I go?/They say your first love's your hardest love and I'd have to say that's so./And its a day and another day and a way and another way,
Had a family once but they're gone./And it don't strike me as weird there's grey in my beard,But the words still linger on."

Rory would rarely compliment Tristan on anything in fear of inflating that famous ego, but she had to admit that he could sing. Not only that but he could write very good music. But something kept bugging her; there was something about the lyrics that she couldn't quite figure out. The chorus indicated that it was about drugs, but the sound of Tristan's voice and the almost desperate sound of the song, made her think it was about someone.

"And you can smoke two pounds of cali herb by yourself then try to stand on your head,/No matter how high you get you'll never forget the wonders of Mary's bed.

Now there's nothing for me left here 'cept some broken dreams disappointments, I've had a few,/And there's this place I know where the mangos grow and there's just one thing left to do./I'll go back to my Mary's bed plant a kiss on her head and pretend that time just stood still,/And I can live out my life like it should have been and the rest will be what it will.

So I went back to the bar where we first met asked the bartender where could she be,/And as he poured me a beer he said last year she left this world peacefully./And every man in the bar looked at me, and they said old man don't you see,/We were all touched by Mary just like you now she lives on in our memories."

As Tristan began to finish the song, Rory found herself almost in tears. She couldn't explain it but something about the song touched her. There was a deeper meaning to the song, a story about heartbreak, of loss. And Rory began to face the reality that she was lacking something in her life, that something was missing.

"And we all can smoke two pounds of cali herb by ourselves then try to stand on our heads,/No matter how high we get we'll never forget the wonders of Mary's bed./And we can run 200 miles through a ganja field until all we see is red,/And we can shout it out we're still thinking about the wonders of Mary's bed.

And so we sing jump around sweet Mary you know we all have to move along,/You never know what you've got in this cruel world until you realize it's gone."

As the last few notes of the song rang out Rory quickly hid in the teachers office. She could hear Tristan putting the guitar back in its case and him writing something. She managed to hide behind the door in the shadow as Tristan exited the room. Rory figured that she too should leave, as Mrs. Bouvier obviously wasn't here. But as she went to exit the room something caught her eye. On the stand that had been in front of Tristan rested a few sheets of paper. As Rory walked over towards it she glanced at the post-it on it.

Mrs. Bouvier,

Here's the song you requested for class. Could you please keep it private? Thanks

Tristan DuGrey

The note was directly below the title, Sweet Mary. It was then that the lyrics began to click.

"The songs about me."

Edited by: Betty Ferrie at: 16/4/05 11:39 am
Betty Ferrie
Registered Member
Posts: 2
(16/4/05 11:40 am)
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Re: Sweet Mary
I re-iterate I own nothing, including A Day In the Life by David Usher

Inner Demons

Tristan lay on his bed, staring out into space desperately attempting to escape the reality of his situation. But fate was not so kind, peace eluded him as faces and memories continued to pop into his mind, namely of her. No matter how hard he tried the odds just seemed stacked against him. With Mary, it was bag boy, with school, it was his father, and as for being himself, well all of upper class Hartford was against him. No matter how hard he tried nothing seemed to ever work. The more he thought about his situation the more frustrated he got.

Tristan stormed up from his bed, grabbing his guitar, and some paper he set out for his balcony, hoping to find solace in the sound of his guitar and the light of the stars from above. As Tristan began to strum away at a melody lyrics began to formulate in his head. Soon the boy was found singing out loud to the night.

Did you feel small today when everyone had gone

'Cause I was beaten up and jaded by the news

And underneath the skin the truth is breaking through

So they just sewed me up and spit me out

And I can't change it
I can't change this

You you take away the world

And I don't even know myself now

So how can I know you

And I don't want to die

And I don't want to leave this place yet

Just give me one more try

My thoughts are floating as reality explodes

I'm whispering to each of you my friends

And every moment seems to freeze frame through the room

All the colors are electrified

But I can't see now

I can't see now

You you take away the world

And I don't even know myself now

So how can I know you

And I don't want to die

And I don't want to leave this place yet

Just give me one more try

And I'm drifting through myself again

Tell me how I got so high

Where the conscience bends the air is thin

And I can't change it

I can't change this

You you take away the world

And I don't even know myself now

So how can I know you

And I don't want to die

And I don't want to leave this place yet

Just give me one more try

And I don't want to die

And I don't want to leave this place yet

Just give me one more try

One more try, yeah

Just give me one more try

One more try, yeah

Just give me one more try

Just as Tristan had strummed the last chord giggling could be heard from bellow the balcony. Tristan didn’t need to look, he’d already encountered his fathers numerous playmates, she was bound to be twenty years younger, pretty and most of all, easy. He hated it, he hated his father, his mother, the way they toyed with each other, each only holding solely for the purpose of societal status. It made him sick to think that he was in fact the same way, the player, and the king of Chilton. The more he thought about it more he realized he greatest fear. He was becoming one of them, one of the numerous socialites, the very people he’d come to hate.

Soon enough he was caught up in a whirlwind of self-deprecating thoughts. Why hate his father, he was the same. Why loathe the world that he was bound to by his complete lack of independence. Why bother when he was all ready doomed.

He couldn’t take it anymore; he needed to get out of here. Tristan left his room with such speed he almost didn’t manage to grab the car keys on his way out. Storming down the front hall he made his way to the front door, slamming it too. When he finally got outside he broke into a slow jog jumping into his black Lexus and speeding out the front gates.

Betty Ferrie
Registered Member
Posts: 3
(16/4/05 11:42 am)
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Re: Sweet Mary
AN: I own none of the characters, original script references etc., I wish I did, but alas I don’t.

Water Under The Bridge

He didn’t know where he was going; at this point he didn’t even care. He just needed to get out. Out of that house, that life, everything associated with upper society Hartford and his father. He wasn’t like them, he wasn’t cold and cruel, only caring about money and social status, and he had more depth then that. But the minute it came to her, wham in came the cocky, egotistical jerk that resorted to second grade tactics to win a girls affection. She completely unhinged him and he hated it. He hated not being able to control what he said or did. He needed control, resilience, that’s all he had left; it was the only thing keeping him from allowing his father to get to him.

He needed to move on and forget about her. He had no time for weakness, if he was going to get out of this hellhole known, as home he needed to focus on his game plan. He needed to be on the ball; he needed…@#%$ now he was starting to sound like his father. It was a vicious cycle, he can’t have weakness, but at the same time, he needs to keep warm, to stay alive in this icebox of a house.

As he pulled out on to the high way one thing remained clear, he had to think. Go help him he needed to figure out what he was going to do because he certainly couldn’t go on for another year and a half playing these mind games.

Tristan dove aimlessly, winding through the back roads of Hartford, hoping to find solace in the untainted scenery. Between the stars, roads and endless reams of images of her, he hadn’t really noticed his whereabouts.

“Great, just @#%$ great! You see what you let he do to you? She gets in, crawls under your skin and the next thing you know you can’t even go for a bloody drive without getting lost…and now your talking to yourself.”

The man hunched figured ceased it’s decent into his seat, namely because any further would require an osmosis reaction of some form, but secondly because of the bridge up ahead. Tristan perked up at this notation, bridges meant civilization, which meant help, which meant he might have a chance in hell at sleeping in a bed tonight. Before he could even shut off the engine half his body was already propelling out of the car making it’s way to the bridge.

As he reached it the beauty of the image before him, stopped him. This tiny wooden bridge stretched over a small river. The water reflected in the moonlight illuminating the bridge and the surrounding foliage. But was truly caught him what the figure hunched, feet dangling in the water. She wore a simple white cotton nightgown, something that one would picture on a character from the early twenties.

Tristan stood awestruck until she moved her head illuminating it in the moonlight, at that moment recognition dawned and the instinct to flee took over, so much for sleeping in a bed tonight. However as he made a b-line for his abandoned car a voice called out to him.

“Tristan?”

Sorry, sorry, sorry! I know cliff-hanger, you can all hate me…. it’s just, it’s 12:45 am and I want to sleep. I’ll update as soon a possible!
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