The origins of the hoodie
Nov. 1st, 2013 02:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pegunicent1947. He liked the number, it wasn't quite one thing, not quite another, sort of a transitory space like Fall and Spring. Oh, sure, he knew Fall and Spring were solid enough to have their own holidays and big furry mean kangaroos, but they didn't *feel* solid. Winter, Summer, those had a density. 1945, 1950, those rang as stepping stones, even if nothing monumental really happened. Those numbers had solidity. 1947 was just passing through, like the Wind, like him.
The kids were already tucked away in their homes where he was, somewhere on the Eastern seaboard of America. He was constantly amazed by the cities, a hop and a jump took him from slate tile to tar paper, frost ferns scrawling over rough brick and smooth marble. Why was this street so poor, when two streets over was rich? He couldn't wrap his head around it.
The stars in cities looked so odd, to, so much more distant. He liked how the Moon was almost always hidden by clouds. Clouds liked cities, and Jack... Jack didn't really like the Moon.
Wandering across rooftops he marveled at the changes he'd seen, the new toys kids played with, the way his frost designs looked on metal pipes and iron bars. That is, he marveled until he heard something that took all his quiet joy and wonder and left him angry and cold inside.
"Please stop! Stop.... Daddy..."
She was tiny, maybe eight or nine, and dressed in what he knew were called 'active wear', which meant cheap but warm. The pants were too big, and the jacket kept sliding off her narrow shoulders, letting the cold night air inside. Thrown into a yellowish brown snow bank half ice, the cheap material was soaking in moisture, which would negate *any* heat she could generate rather quickly.
Jack knew all too well how cheap clothes led to dead children in the snow.
"Get out! Eating my food, stealing my money, go get a job!"
"Daddy!"
Jack tried not to hate adults. He did. After all, children had to come from somewhere, and they had to go somewhere. Children were nothing more than transitions themselves. Adults were where they became solid. Real. Children didn't have any substance, just like him. He loved them, but they weren't very real. Adults....
"Daddy please let me in! I'm cold!"
The man was drunk, his 'active wear' stained and the apartment looked like something Jack wouldn't let animals inhabit. No mother in sight. No other fairies. Not even the moon. Jack's happy snowballs didn't work on drunk assholes, he'd tried plenty of times.
Well.
Another year on the naughty list then.
While the drunk asshole ranted and swore, his little girl crying in the snow, the city was moving around them, ignoring human drama it saw every day. People never saw Jack. They walked right through him. He, saw them however, and sometimes he walked into them. Sometimes he stayed in them, just for a while. Just long enough for the blood to go cold and the heart to shudder and the brain to shut down. It never took too long. He was Winter.
"Daddy! Daddy wake up! Daddy please wake up!"
He tried not to hate the adults. He really did.
The kids were already tucked away in their homes where he was, somewhere on the Eastern seaboard of America. He was constantly amazed by the cities, a hop and a jump took him from slate tile to tar paper, frost ferns scrawling over rough brick and smooth marble. Why was this street so poor, when two streets over was rich? He couldn't wrap his head around it.
The stars in cities looked so odd, to, so much more distant. He liked how the Moon was almost always hidden by clouds. Clouds liked cities, and Jack... Jack didn't really like the Moon.
Wandering across rooftops he marveled at the changes he'd seen, the new toys kids played with, the way his frost designs looked on metal pipes and iron bars. That is, he marveled until he heard something that took all his quiet joy and wonder and left him angry and cold inside.
"Please stop! Stop.... Daddy..."
She was tiny, maybe eight or nine, and dressed in what he knew were called 'active wear', which meant cheap but warm. The pants were too big, and the jacket kept sliding off her narrow shoulders, letting the cold night air inside. Thrown into a yellowish brown snow bank half ice, the cheap material was soaking in moisture, which would negate *any* heat she could generate rather quickly.
Jack knew all too well how cheap clothes led to dead children in the snow.
"Get out! Eating my food, stealing my money, go get a job!"
"Daddy!"
Jack tried not to hate adults. He did. After all, children had to come from somewhere, and they had to go somewhere. Children were nothing more than transitions themselves. Adults were where they became solid. Real. Children didn't have any substance, just like him. He loved them, but they weren't very real. Adults....
"Daddy please let me in! I'm cold!"
The man was drunk, his 'active wear' stained and the apartment looked like something Jack wouldn't let animals inhabit. No mother in sight. No other fairies. Not even the moon. Jack's happy snowballs didn't work on drunk assholes, he'd tried plenty of times.
Well.
Another year on the naughty list then.
While the drunk asshole ranted and swore, his little girl crying in the snow, the city was moving around them, ignoring human drama it saw every day. People never saw Jack. They walked right through him. He, saw them however, and sometimes he walked into them. Sometimes he stayed in them, just for a while. Just long enough for the blood to go cold and the heart to shudder and the brain to shut down. It never took too long. He was Winter.
"Daddy! Daddy wake up! Daddy please wake up!"
He tried not to hate the adults. He really did.
