Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Music Box ❯ Julia's Story ( Chapter 1 )
[ A - All Readers ]
By: Janeth Rhian 
Julia and Gren meet at the Blue Crow for the first time.
Anime/Manga: Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 10.24.2002 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.9K | Visits: 979 | Status: Work In Progress
Julia and Gren meet at the Blue Crow for the first time.
Anime/Manga: Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 10.24.2002 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.9K | Visits: 979 | Status: Work In Progress
Hey Bebop fans! This is one of my first Cowboy Bebop fan fictions that I wrote in 1998. But after many friends twisted my arm into taking a chance on sharing
my stories on line . . . here it is. If readers like it I will post more chapters. Please R/R! So with that done enjoy my story.
On the ice world Callisto, Julia has run out of time. She meets Gren, a sax player at the Blue Crow, as she drowns her sorrows and mourns her lost dreams.
MUSIC BOX
By Janeth Rhian
Email: janethrhian@yahoo.com
Nights on Callisto were filled with four things: snow, men, poverty, and jazz. The first three were in ready supply. The cold bit into flesh, the smell of unwashed bodies wrapped in second hand tatters, and the slums raised up to the sky like the broken fingers of a condemned soul.
A beautiful woman wandered into a graveyard of lost dreams and broken promises. She passed a rusted fuselage of a monoracer, the struts and frames twisted like a nightmare gone made.
A flux in the warped energies of a hyper drive incident caused the titanium hull to snap like a child's toy. Her black boots crunched softly in the snow. As she wandered around the wreckage thinking how strange it was the man had reached for the stars, folding the universe to his will and spreading measureless wings, only to be brought down like doomed Icarus if he brushed to closely to the sun.
Hmm... Icarus, the Greek story of a man who built a pair of wings made of wax and feathers so that he may escape his imprisonment. I once knew a boy like that with eyes that were two colors, one a shade lighter than the other. That was a whole other lifetime ago. Shit, seemed longer.
She shivered, pulling her black trench coat tighter. Her long blond hair ran down past her collar as the wind caught it and played with the honeyed curls. Her nose was slighted crooked - a bar room brawl gone bad from days past - but she left it as it was and never lacked for admirers.
The snow flurries blew on the wind and stung her eyes. She could taste the oxidized dust on her tongue. There was a saying in the solar system: When you run out of luck, you end up on Callisto. All the bounty heads on the run came here evading the ISSP. It was a haven for all sorts of devils and fallen angels. After a year of running, after a year of gambling against the gods for a safe passage OUT, she had finally run of the aces.
On a cold December evening in 2069, she had ended up on Callisto.
The sounds of distant music filled the night air. A transvestite hooker by the name of Julius had told her of a club where she could find a stiff drink and cool jazz. Just so that she could escape and do anything to escape the gnawing pain in her heart.
The cyber sign in indigo blue and pink read The Blue Crow. The glittering U popped and fizzled. She sighed and entered.
Now Callisto was known for a fourth thing. But nights at The Blue Crow were filled with three things: booze, smoke, and more men. The fourth thing the retro lush plush bar was known for was the fire soul cascade clawing its way from the shiny metal tenor sax. The blue hot music seared the air cutting heart and soul like a plasma blast.
The horn bobbed and dipped as the handsome player continued his solo. Long blue black hair caressed his pale cheeks, dancer lean body rocked and jerked in a sultry rhythm. His closed eyes seemed like he was in some private Nirvana of his own creation paying homage at a pagan altar to some long forgotten sex goddess. The music swelled around the room with a force of a Ganymede wave. Bass string thrummed, drums lushly rolled, and the eighty-eight keys of ivory probed the last notes in blinding ray of light.
A smattering of applause filled the musician's ears. Gren pulled his mouth off the damp reed, lowering his sax to his slender hips. Music was like good sex, only a sax didn't give you afterglow. But when Gren played it sure came close! His limbs felt heavy. Gren rolled his shoulder lazily, trying to ease the pain. The cold weather on Callisto didn't help his old war wound.
Titan. A moon and light years away. Seemed longer.
There was a saying on Titan: In the desert, no man has a friend. A serpentine smile, white hair... sand everywhere...everywhere sand. There was no escaping the biting grit of the howling desert winds. Then there was the song. He couldn't get it out of his head. A flash of a shiny knife...the satisfying "chunk" of a sand scorpion impaled on the deadly point.
Gren winced at the old memories, placing his instrument on the stand, shaking. Brushing hair away from his face, he collected his composure as he rubbed his pounding temples.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah . . . fine," said Gren.
Then he looked up at the speaker and looked into eyes that were as blue as a summer sky.
A woman? On Callisto? What kind of sick and twisted joke was this? Women never came to this frozen backwater satellite unless they were desperate.
The blond haired woman tilted her head in concern. "Are you sure?"
Her porcelain skin and fine boned features were ordinary when compared to the digital video starlets Gren had lusted after in his adolescent. Her nose was slightly crooked, just slightly. Her melancholy eyes were rift with silent pain as if someone had shattered her dreams. But her angelic face surpassed prettiness in the way that babies were cute in the eyes of their parents. She was dressed all in black. Very thin, but curvy in the right places.
An angel from the underworld whose wings had been sheared away. Or a devil from paradise with a body that would lead an ordinary man into the pit of hell and grateful to be crucified in her bed.
"Yes, thanks," replied Gren.
She turned to the stool at the end of the bar.
This was a real woman. A real living, breathing woman. Women weren't really his thing anymore, but the Gren was not an ordinary man.
"Can a buy you a drink, pretty lady?"
A soft, sweet smile flickered on her face blinded Gren in a super nova. Instantly he was smitten.
"Alright." was her response.
The blond rolled her long legs over the leather and perched. "Jack Daniels. Is there any ice for the whiskey?"
Gren laughed. "Lady, this is Callisto, there is plenty of ice."
The amber tongue of liquid sloshed in the glass as the bar tender poured. She gave a light salute, slamming back the drink in two swigs. Coughing, she collected herself. "I needed that."
"Well, at least you didn't sneeze. Then I'd have to bore you with an old Irish story about fairies."
She gave sad laugh.
"See already I have pegged you as a women of taste. You have chosen to be amused at my lame jokes."
"Are you always so charming to strange women? I could be a Green Jenny and eat your heart and flesh or a banshee that howls in the hour before your demise."
She signaled the bar tender for another hit.
"So what are you here for?" Gren's dark eyes focused on her raising the glass to her perfect pouty lips.
"We just met. I don't see why I have to validate your opinion about my personal business." She gave him the once over with her blue eyes, but it was his beautiful face the made her gaze linger. No man should be that pretty! She knew a hundred girls who would pay thousands of woolongs for that bone structure. "I mean, you're cute and all, but... "
Gren held up his hands as if to ward off her anger. "First, I am not into women. Second, this is not a nice place for a lady on the run like you."
"I'll take my chances." She sounded so lost, so alone. "What would you know about "
"The first mysterious and beautiful women I have seen in a year walks into a bar on Callisto? Either you are running to somewhere, running from someone, or your have a death wish. Take your choice."
"I have no where to run to, this place seems as good as any."
Silence. The clinking of ice on the glass made the silence all the deafening.
"My break is over." Gren slid off the stool. "Take care pretty lady, I hope you'll be okay."
"Do you take requests?" she asked.
Gren nodded. "What's your poison of choice? Monk, Dizzy, Yard bird?
She bit her lip. "I don't know the song by name. If I hum it could you play it, please?"
Odd request though Gren. "Sure"
She cleared her throat. A strange lilting melody sweetly eased from her lips. The short song nearly stopped the saxophonist's heart and threatened to cleave his senses into tiny pieces. Vicious' music box. It was the same tune.
"Nice tune. Real easy," complimented Gren. "Can I ask where you heard it? I would like to add it to my song list."
"My mother...used to sing it to me when I was sick. If ever I was feeling bad that song was cheer me up."
She was lying.
Okay, mysterious lady with the melancholy blue eyes keep your secrets . . .for now.
"What's your name?"
"Julia. It's a common women's name." And she drank her third whiskey.
"Okay, Julia of a common name." Gren bowed like an old fashioned courtier. "This one's for you!"
The dedicated song poured out of the metal horn like a wounded lover, a ghost who longed to be alive. Gren watched Julia's reaction from under his long lashed eyes. But she just sat there, her eyes partly shut, listening to the rise and fall of the notes swirling around like water falling off a faded rose. When he finished, those wonderful, lovely summer blue eyes seemed bright and misty for a momentary heartbeat as if remembering a lost dream.
Julia turned to the sax player. Those eyes, that smile focused all their charm on him in gratitude. "What's your name?"
"Gren."
"Play it again, Gren."
Of all the gin joints, in all the solar system, of all the moons of Jupiter, you had to waltz into mine. Gren's mind had the steamy impression of a cheesy Earth vid he once saw and had fallen in love with at the same time.
Her sad eyes stole his heart. He gathered up his sax, ignoring the wincing pain in his aching shoulder. The mouth reed was still warm on his tongue and he played.
Outside the snowstorm ripped through the deserted streets but the jazz in The Blue Crow was always blue hot.
HAVE YOU LET SOMEBODY LOVE YOU DESPERADO? SEE YOU IN SPACE COWBOY.
my stories on line . . . here it is. If readers like it I will post more chapters. Please R/R! So with that done enjoy my story.
On the ice world Callisto, Julia has run out of time. She meets Gren, a sax player at the Blue Crow, as she drowns her sorrows and mourns her lost dreams.
MUSIC BOX
By Janeth Rhian
Email: janethrhian@yahoo.com
Nights on Callisto were filled with four things: snow, men, poverty, and jazz. The first three were in ready supply. The cold bit into flesh, the smell of unwashed bodies wrapped in second hand tatters, and the slums raised up to the sky like the broken fingers of a condemned soul.
A beautiful woman wandered into a graveyard of lost dreams and broken promises. She passed a rusted fuselage of a monoracer, the struts and frames twisted like a nightmare gone made.
A flux in the warped energies of a hyper drive incident caused the titanium hull to snap like a child's toy. Her black boots crunched softly in the snow. As she wandered around the wreckage thinking how strange it was the man had reached for the stars, folding the universe to his will and spreading measureless wings, only to be brought down like doomed Icarus if he brushed to closely to the sun.
Hmm... Icarus, the Greek story of a man who built a pair of wings made of wax and feathers so that he may escape his imprisonment. I once knew a boy like that with eyes that were two colors, one a shade lighter than the other. That was a whole other lifetime ago. Shit, seemed longer.
She shivered, pulling her black trench coat tighter. Her long blond hair ran down past her collar as the wind caught it and played with the honeyed curls. Her nose was slighted crooked - a bar room brawl gone bad from days past - but she left it as it was and never lacked for admirers.
The snow flurries blew on the wind and stung her eyes. She could taste the oxidized dust on her tongue. There was a saying in the solar system: When you run out of luck, you end up on Callisto. All the bounty heads on the run came here evading the ISSP. It was a haven for all sorts of devils and fallen angels. After a year of running, after a year of gambling against the gods for a safe passage OUT, she had finally run of the aces.
On a cold December evening in 2069, she had ended up on Callisto.
The sounds of distant music filled the night air. A transvestite hooker by the name of Julius had told her of a club where she could find a stiff drink and cool jazz. Just so that she could escape and do anything to escape the gnawing pain in her heart.
The cyber sign in indigo blue and pink read The Blue Crow. The glittering U popped and fizzled. She sighed and entered.
Now Callisto was known for a fourth thing. But nights at The Blue Crow were filled with three things: booze, smoke, and more men. The fourth thing the retro lush plush bar was known for was the fire soul cascade clawing its way from the shiny metal tenor sax. The blue hot music seared the air cutting heart and soul like a plasma blast.
The horn bobbed and dipped as the handsome player continued his solo. Long blue black hair caressed his pale cheeks, dancer lean body rocked and jerked in a sultry rhythm. His closed eyes seemed like he was in some private Nirvana of his own creation paying homage at a pagan altar to some long forgotten sex goddess. The music swelled around the room with a force of a Ganymede wave. Bass string thrummed, drums lushly rolled, and the eighty-eight keys of ivory probed the last notes in blinding ray of light.
A smattering of applause filled the musician's ears. Gren pulled his mouth off the damp reed, lowering his sax to his slender hips. Music was like good sex, only a sax didn't give you afterglow. But when Gren played it sure came close! His limbs felt heavy. Gren rolled his shoulder lazily, trying to ease the pain. The cold weather on Callisto didn't help his old war wound.
Titan. A moon and light years away. Seemed longer.
There was a saying on Titan: In the desert, no man has a friend. A serpentine smile, white hair... sand everywhere...everywhere sand. There was no escaping the biting grit of the howling desert winds. Then there was the song. He couldn't get it out of his head. A flash of a shiny knife...the satisfying "chunk" of a sand scorpion impaled on the deadly point.
Gren winced at the old memories, placing his instrument on the stand, shaking. Brushing hair away from his face, he collected his composure as he rubbed his pounding temples.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah . . . fine," said Gren.
Then he looked up at the speaker and looked into eyes that were as blue as a summer sky.
A woman? On Callisto? What kind of sick and twisted joke was this? Women never came to this frozen backwater satellite unless they were desperate.
The blond haired woman tilted her head in concern. "Are you sure?"
Her porcelain skin and fine boned features were ordinary when compared to the digital video starlets Gren had lusted after in his adolescent. Her nose was slightly crooked, just slightly. Her melancholy eyes were rift with silent pain as if someone had shattered her dreams. But her angelic face surpassed prettiness in the way that babies were cute in the eyes of their parents. She was dressed all in black. Very thin, but curvy in the right places.
An angel from the underworld whose wings had been sheared away. Or a devil from paradise with a body that would lead an ordinary man into the pit of hell and grateful to be crucified in her bed.
"Yes, thanks," replied Gren.
She turned to the stool at the end of the bar.
This was a real woman. A real living, breathing woman. Women weren't really his thing anymore, but the Gren was not an ordinary man.
"Can a buy you a drink, pretty lady?"
A soft, sweet smile flickered on her face blinded Gren in a super nova. Instantly he was smitten.
"Alright." was her response.
The blond rolled her long legs over the leather and perched. "Jack Daniels. Is there any ice for the whiskey?"
Gren laughed. "Lady, this is Callisto, there is plenty of ice."
The amber tongue of liquid sloshed in the glass as the bar tender poured. She gave a light salute, slamming back the drink in two swigs. Coughing, she collected herself. "I needed that."
"Well, at least you didn't sneeze. Then I'd have to bore you with an old Irish story about fairies."
She gave sad laugh.
"See already I have pegged you as a women of taste. You have chosen to be amused at my lame jokes."
"Are you always so charming to strange women? I could be a Green Jenny and eat your heart and flesh or a banshee that howls in the hour before your demise."
She signaled the bar tender for another hit.
"So what are you here for?" Gren's dark eyes focused on her raising the glass to her perfect pouty lips.
"We just met. I don't see why I have to validate your opinion about my personal business." She gave him the once over with her blue eyes, but it was his beautiful face the made her gaze linger. No man should be that pretty! She knew a hundred girls who would pay thousands of woolongs for that bone structure. "I mean, you're cute and all, but... "
Gren held up his hands as if to ward off her anger. "First, I am not into women. Second, this is not a nice place for a lady on the run like you."
"I'll take my chances." She sounded so lost, so alone. "What would you know about "
"The first mysterious and beautiful women I have seen in a year walks into a bar on Callisto? Either you are running to somewhere, running from someone, or your have a death wish. Take your choice."
"I have no where to run to, this place seems as good as any."
Silence. The clinking of ice on the glass made the silence all the deafening.
"My break is over." Gren slid off the stool. "Take care pretty lady, I hope you'll be okay."
"Do you take requests?" she asked.
Gren nodded. "What's your poison of choice? Monk, Dizzy, Yard bird?
She bit her lip. "I don't know the song by name. If I hum it could you play it, please?"
Odd request though Gren. "Sure"
She cleared her throat. A strange lilting melody sweetly eased from her lips. The short song nearly stopped the saxophonist's heart and threatened to cleave his senses into tiny pieces. Vicious' music box. It was the same tune.
"Nice tune. Real easy," complimented Gren. "Can I ask where you heard it? I would like to add it to my song list."
"My mother...used to sing it to me when I was sick. If ever I was feeling bad that song was cheer me up."
She was lying.
Okay, mysterious lady with the melancholy blue eyes keep your secrets . . .for now.
"What's your name?"
"Julia. It's a common women's name." And she drank her third whiskey.
"Okay, Julia of a common name." Gren bowed like an old fashioned courtier. "This one's for you!"
The dedicated song poured out of the metal horn like a wounded lover, a ghost who longed to be alive. Gren watched Julia's reaction from under his long lashed eyes. But she just sat there, her eyes partly shut, listening to the rise and fall of the notes swirling around like water falling off a faded rose. When he finished, those wonderful, lovely summer blue eyes seemed bright and misty for a momentary heartbeat as if remembering a lost dream.
Julia turned to the sax player. Those eyes, that smile focused all their charm on him in gratitude. "What's your name?"
"Gren."
"Play it again, Gren."
Of all the gin joints, in all the solar system, of all the moons of Jupiter, you had to waltz into mine. Gren's mind had the steamy impression of a cheesy Earth vid he once saw and had fallen in love with at the same time.
Her sad eyes stole his heart. He gathered up his sax, ignoring the wincing pain in his aching shoulder. The mouth reed was still warm on his tongue and he played.
Outside the snowstorm ripped through the deserted streets but the jazz in The Blue Crow was always blue hot.
HAVE YOU LET SOMEBODY LOVE YOU DESPERADO? SEE YOU IN SPACE COWBOY.