the graveyard shift -- tobias fletcher.

[new york avenue]

One would assume that working around dead bodies all day would give you a complex. Or at least a few decent stories to tell at cocktail parties. But Tobias was too busy making up life stories of the corpses he cut open. His rounds with the living wounded had been hell, not to mention boring; unless, of course, one of them happened to die.

His outlook was, perhaps, a bit of the 'gloom and doom' style, and it hardly fit his obsessively 'happy-go-lucky' personality. But somehow, and no he wasn't in the least psychotic, singing Build me up Buttercup while sliding a scalpel down a water logged, blue cold body didn't phase him in the least. In fact, the only time he found himself this happy was when he was at work.

Finding him a placement, therefore, proved to be a challenge. He had to find someone who could handle his overtly happy outlook, yet someone who could still be patient enough to teach him the ins and outs of the morgue. The art of being a coroner wasn't typically very easy, but it came easy enough to Toby. In fact, he couldn't think of a better job in the world to have.

This is Tobias Fletcher. Consistently working the graveyard shift.



<font color="#FFCC00"><font size="1">[ August 26, 2004 06:47 PM: Message edited by: worthless ]</font></font>

<font color="#996600" size="1">[ November 28, 2004 03:17 PM: Message edited by: new york avenue ]</font>

[new york avenue]

In a world of forgotten promises, I forgot about myself.

It wasn?t easy to be the preacher?s wife. Or the coroner?s friend, either. Toby felt he was standing on uneven ground, constantly trying to make up for what he felt he was somehow lacking. He tried to stop by to see Benton, but he ended up leaving chicken scratch notes half dangling from his mailbox saying he?d be back later. Later just didn?t want to come.

Work was making him feel less alive than ever. He didn?t want to sing anymore, or hum, or stand, or think, or move. And the obnoxious new fill in helper was driving him crazy. He was covered, or so he assumed, in acne that was faded from teenage years of high school horror and more years of not understanding the basic essentials of face wash. He wanted Benton back, but he wanted everything to be back the way it was. Without the awkward feeling he had that something was up. Without the feeling that he?d been gone so long now that being back together would be so different he wouldn?t be able to stand it. Toby liked to over analyze in these sorts of situations. When people got hurt, he was in it one hundred percent to be there for them. But as soon as one thing turned, and it so happened that it was a documentary on overbearing people, he backed out completely unable to figure himself out. He didn?t mean to disappear, but he didn?t make extensive efforts to stop it, either.

Life would be back to normal sooner than later, or so he was hoping. Otherwise, he was in for yet another job shift, career move, dead end, busted up city and another gaping expanse in his heart the size of a lover he could never bring himself to love. The weight of a man he wanted so badly to carry on his shoulder and see through the toughest of times but couldn?t bring himself to even walk up a set of stairs to say hello. Tobias was a complex man, and sometimes even he didn?t understand why he did, said, and thought the things he did. And perhaps he never would. But the truth was, nothing was going to change on a dead end street with the streetlamp out. He would always be alone, even in the arms of another, and hiding his insecurities in outward appearances could only hold up so long before everything crashed down around him and he grabbed what few pieces he could salvage before making a run for the hills.


Never underestimate the power of a man too afraid to break another?s heart to ever worry that he?s slowly killing himself with his own hands.