She was painting her nails red. Cherry red. Lipstick red. The color of red you see the hosts of cooking shows sporting. That always baffled her. How did they manage to do all that cooking and cleaning without ruining their nail polish? First hand finished. Now the hard part. Switching the nail polish brush to her left hand, she tried for an even swipe. Of course, it hit the edges of her skin. Whatever, just keep going. She had a million things to do but when she headed to the kitchen, instead of grabbing a dish towel, she detoured to the bathroom and grabbed this bottle of red red polish. There. Done. Replacing the cap carefully, she stretches out her fingers to admire the glossy color. Glancing at the clock, she knows she has a sink full of dishes to clean, laundry to start, a floor to sweep. But her nails are wet. She can't do that right now. She can, awkwardly, grab her phone and carefully swipe it awake. Damn it. Smudged one. It didn't really matter. It would all chip off in a day or two. So it didn't really bother her that much. Instead, she curled up on the sofa, next to the cherry red bottle of nail polished, and idly waved her hands one at a time while scrolling. Waiting for her fingernails to dry.
Showing posts with label Chrissie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chrissie. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 25, 2024
Friday, June 1, 2012
Write the First Time
With Berto safely tucked away in the labyrinth of the Citadel, I threaded my way through the streets of the city. The address on the card led me to a small side lane that I had passed many times but never turned down before. It was nondescript. Just a dank side alley filled with overflowing garbage cans and the scuttle of small animals that took flight as I approached. The alley had a few scarred doors on each side. Every one had a patina of slime and disuse to them. None matched the address I had so I kept walking, scanning ahead, ears perked for noise from behind, all the while the gloom of shadows lengthened. The lane ended abruptly. I don't know why I was surprised. I mean, it wasn't like the Black Moths were going to have a welcome mat or placard announcing their presence but I did, at least, expect a door. Forgive me my ignorance, it was my first time playing to this level of field. I wasn't quite aware of how out matched I was. But that sad realization was quickly approaching.
I turned around slowly at the dead end. More rats. More stink. Less light. But still, no sign of a door. Just a solid brick wall ahead. I stepped forward, my toes brushing the loose mortar that lay in front of the wall. I could not see a since clue that there was anything other than brick before me. It even smelled of old stone. I glanced at the card one last time and notice something. The dark winged moth was glowing. It wasn't pronounced. Nothing you could find your way by. But the shine was there. I lifted it closer to my eye and the glow intensified. Clearly, something was happening. I stepped back and scanned the wall. Sure enough, there was now a slot, small enough for the card, appearing before me. There were no instructions but it seemed pretty self evident. I slid my card into the crevice and waited.
The bricks began to rumble. It was low and quiet. A smell of oil and sulfur tinged the air and suddenly my brick wall opened into a small lobby. A man sat behind a desk directly before me. He glanced up at me in irritation and waved me in. I hesitated.
"Come now, mustn't tarry. You are letting in the smell," he snapped. His nose wrinkled in distaste. I scuttled forward and felt the opening shut behind me. The room was small. Only a few feet wide with four chairs along the north wall. The desk with the fussy man sat next to another door. This one plane wood. It was closed.
"Now, let me see," the desk man pushed his spectacles up his nose and shuffled some papers with gnarled hands. "Ah yes, Miss. Raz? Is it? And your brother, ah, Umberto de la Torez? Where would he be, um?" he peered over the rim of his glasses and tapped his fingers impatiently.
"My brother couldn't make it. He had another engagement." I answered levelly.
"I see," the desk man sighed in disappointment and scribbled something onto the page before him. "Take a seat please, they will be here for you shortly." He nodded toward the row of chairs to my right. I watched as he rolled the paper before him into a cylinder and then slid it into an opening behind him. There was a woosh of air and it shot up the wall, through an opening below the ceiling and out of sight. The man returned to his scribbling without further notice. Warily, I took a seat and waited.
I turned around slowly at the dead end. More rats. More stink. Less light. But still, no sign of a door. Just a solid brick wall ahead. I stepped forward, my toes brushing the loose mortar that lay in front of the wall. I could not see a since clue that there was anything other than brick before me. It even smelled of old stone. I glanced at the card one last time and notice something. The dark winged moth was glowing. It wasn't pronounced. Nothing you could find your way by. But the shine was there. I lifted it closer to my eye and the glow intensified. Clearly, something was happening. I stepped back and scanned the wall. Sure enough, there was now a slot, small enough for the card, appearing before me. There were no instructions but it seemed pretty self evident. I slid my card into the crevice and waited.
The bricks began to rumble. It was low and quiet. A smell of oil and sulfur tinged the air and suddenly my brick wall opened into a small lobby. A man sat behind a desk directly before me. He glanced up at me in irritation and waved me in. I hesitated.
"Come now, mustn't tarry. You are letting in the smell," he snapped. His nose wrinkled in distaste. I scuttled forward and felt the opening shut behind me. The room was small. Only a few feet wide with four chairs along the north wall. The desk with the fussy man sat next to another door. This one plane wood. It was closed.
"Now, let me see," the desk man pushed his spectacles up his nose and shuffled some papers with gnarled hands. "Ah yes, Miss. Raz? Is it? And your brother, ah, Umberto de la Torez? Where would he be, um?" he peered over the rim of his glasses and tapped his fingers impatiently.
"My brother couldn't make it. He had another engagement." I answered levelly.
"I see," the desk man sighed in disappointment and scribbled something onto the page before him. "Take a seat please, they will be here for you shortly." He nodded toward the row of chairs to my right. I watched as he rolled the paper before him into a cylinder and then slid it into an opening behind him. There was a woosh of air and it shot up the wall, through an opening below the ceiling and out of sight. The man returned to his scribbling without further notice. Warily, I took a seat and waited.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Write About A Sudden Silence
It took two more shots of courage before I left the bar. I needed time to think my options through. It wasn't pretty. Bert must of sensed something was wrong from my sudden silence. He wrung his hands and swayed quietly at my side while my head raced.
The Black Moths were big time. As the Citadel grew in strength and pumped out more efficient Runners, the under belly of the city responded in kind. Small time gangs and loan sharks were efficiently rounded up by the Runners and swallowed whole by the dark tower. The ones that escaped detection were the most ruthless and most deadly. About two years ago, rumors began to circulate that a new organization had formed. Petty differences and territory skirmishes were squashed under this new leadership. In order to thwart a better mousetrap, the mice had evolved into something smarter, quicker, and deadlier. I didn't know much about how the organization was run. I liked playing in the kiddie pool and had no illusions that I could swim in the deep end. Unfortunately, it appeared I had just taken the plunge. But I could run. Berto and I could high tail it right now for the countryside. Maybe find work on a farm or sheep ranch. Or we could head out to sea and try and loose ourselves on one of the outer islands. Maybe try our hands at piracy. But while we might slip out of the reach of the Black Moths, we would leave quite a few behind. Our step brothers and sister, friends, colleges. I shuddered at the thought. Santiago knew us. I had no illusions that he would help me. The casualties were too high for running away.
I pushed away from the bar and headed out the door and up the stairs. It was heavy night. Two moons hung low over the horizon. My thumb rubbed the embossed moth again and I noted the address. It wasn't far. As I headed across town with Umberto in tow, I paused to look up at the Citadel that spiraled up the sky. Even at this hour of night it was alive with lights and smoke and noise. That was another option. I stopped on the corner and gazed at the building, thinking. The Citadel wanted the Black Moths. They had been hunting them for years. So far, their Runners had been lead on a merry chase. They would pay for what I knew. Heck, this address alone would buy me a years worth of coin alone. But again, there was the small issue of my family and friends. While the Citadel would gladly protect me and Berto, I doubt they would throw their cloak of protection over all those I cared about. No, I knew I had but one real choice. One true choice but there were still a few variables I could finesses. If I was going to have to play this cruddy hand, I might as well stuff as many aces up my sleeves as possible.
"Come on Berto, let's go to the Citadel," I said, walking briskly toward the square.
Berto's face scrunched in confusion. "Raz? Why we gonna do that? I thought you said to never ever ever go there?"
I turned to face my brother. "I know, I know. But this is special." Berto crossed his arms and planted his feet. Clearly, my earlier admonitions to stay clear of the Runners were in full effect. I didn't have time to waste so I decided to go to my old stand-by, the harmless lie.
"It's the kids, Berto," I pleaded. "Remember? We promised to help them? Well. my old pal Santiago at the bar told me that the Citadel needs to be told about what is going on. He thinks the Runners may be able to help. I have to go and, well, meet with someone real quick. I thought if you head to the Citadel and, you know, report what you learned, that would be fastest?
Umberto's face cleared and his shoulders straightened. He fairly radiated determination. "You got it Raz! I knew you would think of something. I'm a gonna just go and tell..." he faltered and his brows fell again. "Um, Raz? Who am I gonna tell?"
"You know, the guy. The one who deals with the Cuttle? The ambassador...um, I forget. Just tell 'em you want to see whoever is in charge of Cuttle relations. I'm sure they'll direct you were you need to go," I nodded sagely and gently shoved Umberto toward the Citadel. He didn't look totally convinced so I added, for good measure, "It's for the kids. Berto. The kids."
I watched my half-brother as he headed out. I had no doubt that he would be scuttled back and forth for hours. He'd probably land at some poor pencil pushers desk but he would also be safe. For now. And that was one less thing to worry about.
22342 South Reacher. I fingered the card one last time before putting it in my pocket. I twisted the ring around my finger for reassurance and headed off. Time to meet the Black Moths.
I pushed away from the bar and headed out the door and up the stairs. It was heavy night. Two moons hung low over the horizon. My thumb rubbed the embossed moth again and I noted the address. It wasn't far. As I headed across town with Umberto in tow, I paused to look up at the Citadel that spiraled up the sky. Even at this hour of night it was alive with lights and smoke and noise. That was another option. I stopped on the corner and gazed at the building, thinking. The Citadel wanted the Black Moths. They had been hunting them for years. So far, their Runners had been lead on a merry chase. They would pay for what I knew. Heck, this address alone would buy me a years worth of coin alone. But again, there was the small issue of my family and friends. While the Citadel would gladly protect me and Berto, I doubt they would throw their cloak of protection over all those I cared about. No, I knew I had but one real choice. One true choice but there were still a few variables I could finesses. If I was going to have to play this cruddy hand, I might as well stuff as many aces up my sleeves as possible.
"Come on Berto, let's go to the Citadel," I said, walking briskly toward the square.
Berto's face scrunched in confusion. "Raz? Why we gonna do that? I thought you said to never ever ever go there?"
I turned to face my brother. "I know, I know. But this is special." Berto crossed his arms and planted his feet. Clearly, my earlier admonitions to stay clear of the Runners were in full effect. I didn't have time to waste so I decided to go to my old stand-by, the harmless lie.
"It's the kids, Berto," I pleaded. "Remember? We promised to help them? Well. my old pal Santiago at the bar told me that the Citadel needs to be told about what is going on. He thinks the Runners may be able to help. I have to go and, well, meet with someone real quick. I thought if you head to the Citadel and, you know, report what you learned, that would be fastest?
Umberto's face cleared and his shoulders straightened. He fairly radiated determination. "You got it Raz! I knew you would think of something. I'm a gonna just go and tell..." he faltered and his brows fell again. "Um, Raz? Who am I gonna tell?"
"You know, the guy. The one who deals with the Cuttle? The ambassador...um, I forget. Just tell 'em you want to see whoever is in charge of Cuttle relations. I'm sure they'll direct you were you need to go," I nodded sagely and gently shoved Umberto toward the Citadel. He didn't look totally convinced so I added, for good measure, "It's for the kids. Berto. The kids."
I watched my half-brother as he headed out. I had no doubt that he would be scuttled back and forth for hours. He'd probably land at some poor pencil pushers desk but he would also be safe. For now. And that was one less thing to worry about.
22342 South Reacher. I fingered the card one last time before putting it in my pocket. I twisted the ring around my finger for reassurance and headed off. Time to meet the Black Moths.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Write About a Black Winged Moth
If you have to bluff, go big. No hesitation, no thinking, just jump right in and trust that Lady Luck is feeling magnanimous. It had worked so far in my life, so I decided to continue riding the great Lady's coat tails just a little longer. I opened the door quickly and soundly. No sneaking in, no slinking. Just squared the shoulders and walked through like I owned the place. If you look like you belong, who knows? Maybe you do. Of course, having Berto at the back helped. Most people's glance slide right off my face and up, up, up to his. Tonight was no exceptions. My brother and I stepped squarely from that dank tunnel into a crowd. The Lady held me in her arms yet again. I knew exactly where we had landed. We were in the back store room of McFreedy's Fine Ales. The name was a lark. The place was owned by a swarthy man named Santiago and the only fine thing it served was a wicked hangover. It was near the docks however, and Santiago was known as a bit of a smuggler. Nothing big. Just little stuff slipped under the eyes of the Runners and the Citadel. I had never known him to traffic in human goods but this was neither the time nor place to ponder such mysteries. Our entrance had turned the heads of a group of gentlemen who were playing Sharks in the back storeroom. The stakes looked high and one seat was already vacant. The trail of blood that ran along the floor to the door I now stood in was relatively fresh. The strange sticky substance in the tunnel behind me now made prefect sense. We we lucky not to have run into the removal team. Even luckier, Santiago wasn't there to alert the gamers to our uninvited status. The goons by the back door had taken a step forward when we appeared. But they had stopped at our confident entrance. Bless the Lady of the Bluff. She was going to save our hides once again.
"Gentleman," I scanned the table, making brazen eye contact with each man present. A few I recognized by reputation. Without missing a beat, I headed across the room toward the back door that lead to the public room of McFreedy's. The goons looked towards their bosses but no one stopped us. With the same false confidence, I shouldered my way past them, tugged the door open, and left the room of players behind. Santiago was serving behind the bar and his eyes widened when he saw us emerge. I made a beeline to him and perched myself on a sticky stool.
"Hey, man, we need to talk," I stated simply. Berto leaned his back against the bar, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room behind my back. Santiago nodded to the men next to me and they grabbed their drinks and headed for a table. The stools around me were now empty. Time to run the bluff.
Santiago was in his late 40s. His face and hands were heavily scared. Whether from hard labor or hard fighting, no one know. He was a distant cousin to someone in the Duermo organization and as such he was afforded their protection. I hadn't had much dealings with the Duermos. They were big time. I was far to small to register on their business plan. But it did explain what I saw the other night. Human trafficking was right up their alley. Now, I just had to confirm my suspicion.
I leaned into the bar and lowered my voice. "I saw the 'delivery' that cam from your back room down at the docks the other night. It seemed a bit...fresh if you get my drift."
Sanitago had an excellent poker face. He continued to slowly rub the bar in front of me with a damp cloth. The moment felt like it was stretching too thin so I played my next highest card.
"Heard the Runners were paying good money for any leads about these fresh deliveries. Now, I'm not one to pick sides, you know that Santiago, but money is money. If what I saw has a price, I want to be paid. Don't rightly care where the funds come from. So if there is someone else I should see about what I know, someone else in the market so to speak? I'd be more than willing to take my business there first."
Santiago continued with those slow maddening circles. I was just about to throw down my cards and quit this game when he left the rag on the bar and reached under the counter. Berto tensed and I had to remind myself to keep breathing. Slowly, he raised his eyes to mine and slid a card across the table. Like a dealer in Sharks, he flipped it face up in front of me. I'm sure I blanched when I saw it. An embossed black winged moth stared up at me. With deliberation, Santiago slipped a gnawed pencil from behind his ear, scratched an address across the bottom of the card, and slide it across the counter to me. The stakes had just turned. I picked up the small cream card and brushed my thumb over the embossed moth. Santiago pushed back from the bar with a wry smile and set a shot of something foul before me. Without hesitating, I downed it in one gulp. I'd need all the courage I could find. The Night Moths. Fuck me. I'd have been better off in the hands of the Runners.
"Gentleman," I scanned the table, making brazen eye contact with each man present. A few I recognized by reputation. Without missing a beat, I headed across the room toward the back door that lead to the public room of McFreedy's. The goons looked towards their bosses but no one stopped us. With the same false confidence, I shouldered my way past them, tugged the door open, and left the room of players behind. Santiago was serving behind the bar and his eyes widened when he saw us emerge. I made a beeline to him and perched myself on a sticky stool.
"Hey, man, we need to talk," I stated simply. Berto leaned his back against the bar, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room behind my back. Santiago nodded to the men next to me and they grabbed their drinks and headed for a table. The stools around me were now empty. Time to run the bluff.
Santiago was in his late 40s. His face and hands were heavily scared. Whether from hard labor or hard fighting, no one know. He was a distant cousin to someone in the Duermo organization and as such he was afforded their protection. I hadn't had much dealings with the Duermos. They were big time. I was far to small to register on their business plan. But it did explain what I saw the other night. Human trafficking was right up their alley. Now, I just had to confirm my suspicion.
I leaned into the bar and lowered my voice. "I saw the 'delivery' that cam from your back room down at the docks the other night. It seemed a bit...fresh if you get my drift."
Sanitago had an excellent poker face. He continued to slowly rub the bar in front of me with a damp cloth. The moment felt like it was stretching too thin so I played my next highest card.
"Heard the Runners were paying good money for any leads about these fresh deliveries. Now, I'm not one to pick sides, you know that Santiago, but money is money. If what I saw has a price, I want to be paid. Don't rightly care where the funds come from. So if there is someone else I should see about what I know, someone else in the market so to speak? I'd be more than willing to take my business there first."
Santiago continued with those slow maddening circles. I was just about to throw down my cards and quit this game when he left the rag on the bar and reached under the counter. Berto tensed and I had to remind myself to keep breathing. Slowly, he raised his eyes to mine and slid a card across the table. Like a dealer in Sharks, he flipped it face up in front of me. I'm sure I blanched when I saw it. An embossed black winged moth stared up at me. With deliberation, Santiago slipped a gnawed pencil from behind his ear, scratched an address across the bottom of the card, and slide it across the counter to me. The stakes had just turned. I picked up the small cream card and brushed my thumb over the embossed moth. Santiago pushed back from the bar with a wry smile and set a shot of something foul before me. Without hesitating, I downed it in one gulp. I'd need all the courage I could find. The Night Moths. Fuck me. I'd have been better off in the hands of the Runners.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
In The Distance
The tunnel opened before me. I could feel my pulse rise and my breath came fast in my throat. There was no light in the distance. No sound. No breeze. Just dead dark. My hands began to shake as the tunnel seemed to close around me and I'm sure I would have fallen if Umberto hadn't wrapped and arm around me.
"Raz? Raz? Are you ok?" he asked me. "Are you sure you wanna do this Raz? It looks kinda dark...."
Something about the stupidity of that remark shook me back on my feet. I pulled out of his grasp and rummaged in my overcoat pocket to find the gem Jules gave me.
"No shit it's dark you idiot," I grumbled, slapping the gem in my hand and watching as it flickered to life, "it's a secret tunnel. What do you think, it's going to have lighting installed?" I strode off in a huff, the eerie blue gem light casting shadows along the tunnel walls. It didn't illuminate far ahead but enough that I could see where I was going. I heard Berto shuffle behind me. When the trap door closed, the darkness fully engulfed us but I refused to let my steps falter. I kept my breathing steady and focused on Jules' gem light. I did, however, set a brisk pace. I wanted to get to the end of this passage and out as soon as possible before panic overwhelmed me.
The tunnel itself rose sightly. The ground was muddy and the sides were rough cut stones. There was enough height to stand comfortably but if I were to stretch out my arms, they would easily touch the sides of the passage. Single file was our best option. With Umberto's hulking footsteps behind me, I lead the way into the darkness. Time is a funny thing. In the dark, without any sounds or outside cues, it's easy to lose track of it. We couldn't have been walking long before I saw a bundle up ahead. I slowed as I approached. In our pathway, crumpled on the ground, was a brown coat. Never one to leave a pocket left unsearched, I knelt down and rifled through the coat. A few pence, a small notebook that was too hard to read in the gem-light, and a round silver watch with the initials ARW engraved on front. I tucked my treasure into my pockets and motioned Umberto to follow. The ground of the tunnel was damp and muddy as if a great flow of water had recently passed through. It made the going slow as our footing was questionable. But still the tunnel traveled up. After an indeterminable amount of time, I could make out a faint glow up ahead. I tapped our gem off and stood for a moment, letting my eyes adjust. The darkness began to settle about me. Again, I could feel my heart starting to seize up and my head began to spin. It was so dark. So dark.
"Raz? Um, why are we stopped?" Umberto whispered into my ear. For once, I didn't care about appearances. I reached back and grabbed his big warm hand. Together, we crept toward the glowing outline of the door before us. When we reached it, the muffled sound of voiced carried into the tunnel. I could hear clinking glasses and laughter. It sounded like a party. I had hoped the entrance to the tunnel would be in a secluded place we could just slip into. That was not going to happen. We were going to have to make a very loud entrance. Loud and fast. I stepped back from the door way to think. I wished there was some way to get a peek on the other side but we were going to have to go in blind and hope for luck. Not the way I like to operate but, truth be told, it was my usual modus operandi.
I stretched myself up on tiptoe to reach Umberto's ear. "OK brother, here's the plan....."
"Raz? Raz? Are you ok?" he asked me. "Are you sure you wanna do this Raz? It looks kinda dark...."
Something about the stupidity of that remark shook me back on my feet. I pulled out of his grasp and rummaged in my overcoat pocket to find the gem Jules gave me.
"No shit it's dark you idiot," I grumbled, slapping the gem in my hand and watching as it flickered to life, "it's a secret tunnel. What do you think, it's going to have lighting installed?" I strode off in a huff, the eerie blue gem light casting shadows along the tunnel walls. It didn't illuminate far ahead but enough that I could see where I was going. I heard Berto shuffle behind me. When the trap door closed, the darkness fully engulfed us but I refused to let my steps falter. I kept my breathing steady and focused on Jules' gem light. I did, however, set a brisk pace. I wanted to get to the end of this passage and out as soon as possible before panic overwhelmed me.
The tunnel itself rose sightly. The ground was muddy and the sides were rough cut stones. There was enough height to stand comfortably but if I were to stretch out my arms, they would easily touch the sides of the passage. Single file was our best option. With Umberto's hulking footsteps behind me, I lead the way into the darkness. Time is a funny thing. In the dark, without any sounds or outside cues, it's easy to lose track of it. We couldn't have been walking long before I saw a bundle up ahead. I slowed as I approached. In our pathway, crumpled on the ground, was a brown coat. Never one to leave a pocket left unsearched, I knelt down and rifled through the coat. A few pence, a small notebook that was too hard to read in the gem-light, and a round silver watch with the initials ARW engraved on front. I tucked my treasure into my pockets and motioned Umberto to follow. The ground of the tunnel was damp and muddy as if a great flow of water had recently passed through. It made the going slow as our footing was questionable. But still the tunnel traveled up. After an indeterminable amount of time, I could make out a faint glow up ahead. I tapped our gem off and stood for a moment, letting my eyes adjust. The darkness began to settle about me. Again, I could feel my heart starting to seize up and my head began to spin. It was so dark. So dark.
"Raz? Um, why are we stopped?" Umberto whispered into my ear. For once, I didn't care about appearances. I reached back and grabbed his big warm hand. Together, we crept toward the glowing outline of the door before us. When we reached it, the muffled sound of voiced carried into the tunnel. I could hear clinking glasses and laughter. It sounded like a party. I had hoped the entrance to the tunnel would be in a secluded place we could just slip into. That was not going to happen. We were going to have to make a very loud entrance. Loud and fast. I stepped back from the door way to think. I wished there was some way to get a peek on the other side but we were going to have to go in blind and hope for luck. Not the way I like to operate but, truth be told, it was my usual modus operandi.
I stretched myself up on tiptoe to reach Umberto's ear. "OK brother, here's the plan....."
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
On the Horizon
There are few things you should know about me. I guess now is as good a time as any to fill in some of the details before events start to unfold. First, I am the youngest of nine. At least, at last count it was nine. We all share the same mother and are scattered across the City and even some of the outer Islands. Old mom got around. Second, mom had the gift. She practiced the Dark Arts, had an understanding with the devil or could touch the other side. Whatever you call it, she had the goods. Each of us got a taste of her gifts to varying degrees. Of all of us, I think I take after her most. I was tested at age 12. The results were off the cart and I was quickly bundled up and stowed on-board a ship for a direct journey to the University. Luckily, the masters didn't appreciate my skill with locks and I slipped off that ship before it set sail. Which leads me to the next little quirk I have. I love locks. Mechanical, ethereal, alchemical, or just down right nasty, I adore them all. If I was ever to go straight, I'd open a locksmith shop over on Market Street and spend the rest of my days happily tinkering away. But the straight path just isn't in the cards, as my older sister would say. And she would know. What Elsie can see in her deck would turn you hair. But I digress. Lets see, what else? Ah yes, I suppose I should catalog my weaknesses as well as strengths. The one I'm most branded with is arrogance. Go figure, right? Rashness. Again, totally unjustified. No concept of reality. And fear of the dark. No really, I'm terrified of darkness. It isn't something I'm proud of but there it is. Next break in the actions I'll give you the details but for now, we are out of time. We've reached my sister Imogien's house.
Imogen isn't the oldest of the bunch, that distinctions belongs to Rueben. But she is the oldest female which means she loves to boss us all around. She also insists, as eldest daughter, that she be keeper of the family ring. Arguing with Imogen gets you know where, trust me I've tried, so we've all resigned ourselves to this set up. Imogen did well for herself. She married early and well. But things didn't work out so great for her husband. I guess marriage to my sister isn't conducive to a long life. Suffice to say, she married young, widowed even younger, and has been living large ever since. Her home is in the posh part of town. We've learned to approach by the servants door. As we unlatched the side gate, Umberto's face lit up. He loves Imogens. Thinks she's a fine lady of quality. Just more proof that Berto's mental facilities are a bit on the shaky side. But I was more than willing to use it in my favor.
"Hey, Berto," I began as we rapped on the delivery door," why don't you pop on up and ask Imogen if we can borrow Mother's ring? I know she'd love to see you."
Umberto nodded eagerly and a big grin broke across is broad and homely face. Nellie, the downstairs maid, opened the door and waved us inside. I settled down on the kitchen table and tucked into a nice meat pie while Berto followed Nellie upstairs nattering on happily. Imogen loves Umberto. It's a bit of a bone of contention between us. She would like nothing more than to make him her ward, slick him up, and introduce him into Society. I believe Bertos strengths lie outside of cotillions and high teas. More ont he side of barroom brawls and muscle work. For this reason, I try to steer clear of old Imogen. Our "discussions" usually turn into something much nastier. So I was content with my meat pie and wheat ale. It took about and hour or so before Berto came downstairs. I don't know how Imogen did it but in that time she had managed to wash, trim and oil his hair, fit him with new breeches and a thick woolen overcoat. But no matter how you dress a turkey, it's still a turkey. Berto stood before me, shifting from foot to foot and picking at his sleeve. He managed to work loose a seam thread and I watched the cuff begin to unravel.
I sighed. "Did you at least get the ring?" I asked.
"Yeah Raz, I got it!" Umberto stuck out a meat mitt and there on his pinky rested a clouded red ruby set in a silver band.
"Alright, lets get out of here," I said and headed for the door. Berto grabbed two pies for himself and by the time the side gate had latched, his woolen overcoat was decorated with trails of grease and pastry crumb. By the time we reached the street, his coiffed hair had returned to its disheveled state and he was looking more and more like my brother every minute.
The sun was just hitting the horizon when we arrived at the wharf. The seagulls circled and called out in harsh tons above our heads and the smell of salt and raw fish lay think in my mouth. I could just see a large vessel way out on the sea. It shimmered in the suns last rays. More mirage than real as it slipped over the horizon. I lead Berto over to the rock wall I had investigated last night. It looked as solid and substantial as before but a light push on the right spot and..... the hidden door popped open silently. I took a moment to admire the mechanics of it. Very well done and maintained. This close to the sea everything rusted fast but these hinges and bolts were solid and well oiled. This was not a rarely used bolt hole. This door was too well cared for for that. Ahead, the tunnel was a deep black. And remember that fear of the dark? Yeah, that's going to prove problematic in a few moments. Very problematic.
Imogen isn't the oldest of the bunch, that distinctions belongs to Rueben. But she is the oldest female which means she loves to boss us all around. She also insists, as eldest daughter, that she be keeper of the family ring. Arguing with Imogen gets you know where, trust me I've tried, so we've all resigned ourselves to this set up. Imogen did well for herself. She married early and well. But things didn't work out so great for her husband. I guess marriage to my sister isn't conducive to a long life. Suffice to say, she married young, widowed even younger, and has been living large ever since. Her home is in the posh part of town. We've learned to approach by the servants door. As we unlatched the side gate, Umberto's face lit up. He loves Imogens. Thinks she's a fine lady of quality. Just more proof that Berto's mental facilities are a bit on the shaky side. But I was more than willing to use it in my favor.
"Hey, Berto," I began as we rapped on the delivery door," why don't you pop on up and ask Imogen if we can borrow Mother's ring? I know she'd love to see you."
Umberto nodded eagerly and a big grin broke across is broad and homely face. Nellie, the downstairs maid, opened the door and waved us inside. I settled down on the kitchen table and tucked into a nice meat pie while Berto followed Nellie upstairs nattering on happily. Imogen loves Umberto. It's a bit of a bone of contention between us. She would like nothing more than to make him her ward, slick him up, and introduce him into Society. I believe Bertos strengths lie outside of cotillions and high teas. More ont he side of barroom brawls and muscle work. For this reason, I try to steer clear of old Imogen. Our "discussions" usually turn into something much nastier. So I was content with my meat pie and wheat ale. It took about and hour or so before Berto came downstairs. I don't know how Imogen did it but in that time she had managed to wash, trim and oil his hair, fit him with new breeches and a thick woolen overcoat. But no matter how you dress a turkey, it's still a turkey. Berto stood before me, shifting from foot to foot and picking at his sleeve. He managed to work loose a seam thread and I watched the cuff begin to unravel.
I sighed. "Did you at least get the ring?" I asked.
"Yeah Raz, I got it!" Umberto stuck out a meat mitt and there on his pinky rested a clouded red ruby set in a silver band.
"Alright, lets get out of here," I said and headed for the door. Berto grabbed two pies for himself and by the time the side gate had latched, his woolen overcoat was decorated with trails of grease and pastry crumb. By the time we reached the street, his coiffed hair had returned to its disheveled state and he was looking more and more like my brother every minute.
The sun was just hitting the horizon when we arrived at the wharf. The seagulls circled and called out in harsh tons above our heads and the smell of salt and raw fish lay think in my mouth. I could just see a large vessel way out on the sea. It shimmered in the suns last rays. More mirage than real as it slipped over the horizon. I lead Berto over to the rock wall I had investigated last night. It looked as solid and substantial as before but a light push on the right spot and..... the hidden door popped open silently. I took a moment to admire the mechanics of it. Very well done and maintained. This close to the sea everything rusted fast but these hinges and bolts were solid and well oiled. This was not a rarely used bolt hole. This door was too well cared for for that. Ahead, the tunnel was a deep black. And remember that fear of the dark? Yeah, that's going to prove problematic in a few moments. Very problematic.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Write About A Silver Ring
We cut across town. It was early morning and the street traffic was light. Mostly food vendors setting up carts and cabbies jostling for a prime spot at the curb. They didn't even spare us a second glance. I wanted to hit one last stop before we explored the wharf and the tunnel. We headed toward the heart of the city. The buildings became taller and more respectable. Less trash but more dirty looks as we threaded through the streets. We were almost to our destination when Berto stopped suddenly.
"Look at the lights, Raz!" he exclaimed, turning down toward Lyson Road. Up ahead, I could make out the pulsating, searing lights of Cuttle.
"We don't have time, Berto," I pleaded. I tried to tug him back on track but it was no use. Most people found the visual speech of the Cuttle disconcerting. I had only a rudimentary understanding of what all the colors meant but only a fool would approach a Cuttle flashing the cold hard colors of blue and purple. In my experience, the Cuttle were like rats. They did their own thing and left you alone unless you cornered them. Then, they fought viciously. I avoided them at all cost. But Umberto had a strange fixation with their blinking lights. He claimed he could understand them. But then, he also claimed he could hear butterflies sing when they flew. He isn't the quickest off the starting blocks if you get my drift.
"They are so sad, Raz," Umberto muttered, as he hurried into the square in front of the Cuttle consul. For such a big guy, Umberto can move surprisingly fast. I had to hurry to keep up. He stopped at the edge of the Cuttle crowd that had gathered on the embassy steps. Deep midnight blue and dark violent violet colors splashed across his face from the Cuttle around him. I stayed on the edge of the crowd. I had no urge to get in the middle of that rats nest. The Cuttle surrounded Berto quickly, pulsating rapidly. Umberto stood still, his eyes wide, mesmerized by the lights. The rhythm and glare gave me a headache and I had to look away. When my sight cleared, the Cuttle had parted and Umberto was walking back to me, tears in his eyes.
"Raz, it's awful," Umberto sniffled, running his nose along his arm. "They have lost their kids Raz. Their kids! And no one cares or is doing nothing. Can we do something Raz? I bet you can think of a way to help, right?" Umberto looked down at me, expectantly.
Just between you and me, there was no way I was getting mixed up in Cuttle kid business. Their offspring were a mean, dog eat dog, hardscrabble lot. And I mean that literally. Cuttle kids were notorious for loving the taste of black dog. The last thing I wanted was to track down a couple of missing Cuttle squirts but I didn't have the time to win Umberto over to my way of seeing things so I did something I would end up regretting later... I lied. It seemed like such a good idea at the time. If only I knew the heart-ache it would cause us later.
"Sure Berto, we sure will help. I bet if we find those Cuttle kiddos, they'll be some big reward for us which would be great, right? But to do that, we need to hurry up and look into that tunnel I told you about. No more wasting time, ok?" I said. Umberto nodded eagerly and then wrapped me in a big bear hug.
"You're the best Raz! I just knew I could count on you!" Umberto dropped me back to the ground and ran back toward the Cuttle. "I'll tell 'em we're on the case now!" he yelled over his shoulder to me. I watched as he tried to talk to the Cuttle. I have no idea what he told them or what they understood. Their colors turned bright gold for a moment and then Umberto was back at my side, ready to go.
"So, whadda we gotta do, Raz?" he asked me.
"We need to pick up Momma's ring Berto," I said as we headed north, the lights of the Cuttle riot at our back. "Then we'll be ready to explore."
"Look at the lights, Raz!" he exclaimed, turning down toward Lyson Road. Up ahead, I could make out the pulsating, searing lights of Cuttle.
"We don't have time, Berto," I pleaded. I tried to tug him back on track but it was no use. Most people found the visual speech of the Cuttle disconcerting. I had only a rudimentary understanding of what all the colors meant but only a fool would approach a Cuttle flashing the cold hard colors of blue and purple. In my experience, the Cuttle were like rats. They did their own thing and left you alone unless you cornered them. Then, they fought viciously. I avoided them at all cost. But Umberto had a strange fixation with their blinking lights. He claimed he could understand them. But then, he also claimed he could hear butterflies sing when they flew. He isn't the quickest off the starting blocks if you get my drift.
"They are so sad, Raz," Umberto muttered, as he hurried into the square in front of the Cuttle consul. For such a big guy, Umberto can move surprisingly fast. I had to hurry to keep up. He stopped at the edge of the Cuttle crowd that had gathered on the embassy steps. Deep midnight blue and dark violent violet colors splashed across his face from the Cuttle around him. I stayed on the edge of the crowd. I had no urge to get in the middle of that rats nest. The Cuttle surrounded Berto quickly, pulsating rapidly. Umberto stood still, his eyes wide, mesmerized by the lights. The rhythm and glare gave me a headache and I had to look away. When my sight cleared, the Cuttle had parted and Umberto was walking back to me, tears in his eyes.
"Raz, it's awful," Umberto sniffled, running his nose along his arm. "They have lost their kids Raz. Their kids! And no one cares or is doing nothing. Can we do something Raz? I bet you can think of a way to help, right?" Umberto looked down at me, expectantly.
Just between you and me, there was no way I was getting mixed up in Cuttle kid business. Their offspring were a mean, dog eat dog, hardscrabble lot. And I mean that literally. Cuttle kids were notorious for loving the taste of black dog. The last thing I wanted was to track down a couple of missing Cuttle squirts but I didn't have the time to win Umberto over to my way of seeing things so I did something I would end up regretting later... I lied. It seemed like such a good idea at the time. If only I knew the heart-ache it would cause us later.
"Sure Berto, we sure will help. I bet if we find those Cuttle kiddos, they'll be some big reward for us which would be great, right? But to do that, we need to hurry up and look into that tunnel I told you about. No more wasting time, ok?" I said. Umberto nodded eagerly and then wrapped me in a big bear hug.
"You're the best Raz! I just knew I could count on you!" Umberto dropped me back to the ground and ran back toward the Cuttle. "I'll tell 'em we're on the case now!" he yelled over his shoulder to me. I watched as he tried to talk to the Cuttle. I have no idea what he told them or what they understood. Their colors turned bright gold for a moment and then Umberto was back at my side, ready to go.
"So, whadda we gotta do, Raz?" he asked me.
"We need to pick up Momma's ring Berto," I said as we headed north, the lights of the Cuttle riot at our back. "Then we'll be ready to explore."
Monday, December 5, 2011
You Found It In A Drawer
My plan was simple. We were going to find out where that dark passage led. Those men I had seen at the wharf were clearly trying to keep a low profile. That meant, if we could find out what they were up to, we had something to sell. Either our silence or our knowledge. I didn't care either way. Who ever paid more worked just fine for me. We had made a pretty penny a while back when we had stumbled upon a counterfeiting ring a few years ago. For the right price, our lips were sealed and our palms crossed. In fact, that was where we had first met Jules. She was the brains behind the operation and had figured out how to turn lead into gold. Unfortunately, the effects proved to be temporary but Jules and her cohorts were long gone by the time that had happened. Jules turned out to be a good resource over the years. She always had some invention that wanted testing. Most of the time, her ideas fell on the wrong side of the law which was just fine by me. I figured before I headed back to explore the tunnel, I'd line my pockets with a few of her handy devices and see what, if anything, she had heard..
By the time we reached her neighborhood, dawn was breaking. Jules worked under a printing shop. She claimed that the sound of the printing press as it pounded out copies of the daily rag gave her inspiration. All it gave me was a headache. We reached the stairs that led down to her rooms just as the sun breached the horizon.
"Um, Raz, do I gotta?" Umberto had balked at the top of the stairs. He had resumed is shuffling and hand wringing. I stifled a sigh. Umberto didn't like Jules. Jules didn't like Umberto. They were water and oil, cats and dogs, and any other over used cliche you could think of the described to forces that did not play well together.
"Yes Berto," I replied patiently, "we got to. You lost the money, now we have to find more. Jules is the way. Sorry big guy." I patted his arm and turned back to the stairs, taking them two at a time. Umberto followed much slower.
The door was unlocked but I knew better than to open it. Instead, I swung the metal message flap up and hollared out, "Hey Jules! It's me! Is it safe to enter?"
There was a loud crash followed by what sounded like a buzzing noise and the door was pulled open and out of my hand. Jules looked disheveled but grinned up at me. She was a tiny little thing. Maybe five foot one on a good day. But if you knew Jules, you knew height meant little. Her smock was blackened with soot and she held a strange device in her hands. It was covered with gears and grease and what looked like small opalescent orb floated in air above it. I didn't even try to wrap my mind around what it was. It was out of my league.
"Razzie," grunted and frowned up at me. "You have the worst timing," she said as she turned and walked into her lair. I grinned at the back of her retreating figure before following but was stopped by Umberto tugging on my shirt tails.
"Please Raz? Please?" he asked in a whisper.
"Oh, you brought It with you I see." Jules turned and looked at Umberto. Her head tilted to the right a bit and her eye lids lowered down to slits. Then she smiled. It wasn't friendly.
"Hey now, hey now, lets not do this Jules," I stepped between them, blocking her line of sight and felt Umberto growl behind me. "Berto, why don't you go guard the door for me while I talk to Jules, ok?"
Jules had lowered her gaze and was fiddling with her device. It began giving off sparks as the orb began rotating at an alarming rate. With a grunt, Umberto turned, slammed the door and stomped up the stairs. Now it was my turn to glare.
"Really, Jules? Really? Do you have to do that? You know Umberto is harmless? Why do you have to rile him up so?" I asked and I settled myself in the nearest chair.
Jules shrugged and tossed the orb device into her desk where it sputtered to a stop. "Just can't help myself," she sighed, and she untied her smock and soothed her wrinkled dress. She glanced at me now with lowered lids and that same head tilt I had learned to watch out for.
"What are you up to Razzie? You never visit me anymore unless something is going on. Spill it. What mess have you gotten tangled up in now." She settled herself in a chair next to me and began fussing with a tray set for tea. She passed me a delicate cup and saucer then sat back with her own while I explained the situation. When I was done, she had finished her drink and was on her feet rummaging through her desk drawer.
"Ah, here it is!" she exclaimed as she pulled forth a small metal box. She opened it carefully and then spun it in her palm so its contents faced me. "This is a little gizmo I designed for a, er, client. He never claimed it so it's been gathering dust for the last few months but I think it is just what you need." Gently, she lifted a flat metal disc from the box and placed it in her palm. The disk had a large raised stone set in the center and with her free hand, Jules gentle tapped the gem. A soft glow began to emanate from the set jewel. It grew in strength until Jules tapped the gem a second time. Now the glow was a steady green light that illuminated her face in a ghastly manner. But it was strong.
"One tap on. Two taps to set. Simply turn it over," she quickly flipped the disk in her hand and the light was extinguished "and it's extinguished." She smiled at the look on my face and tossed the disc into my lap. "Really, Razzie, you are so easily amused! It's merely trapped ether magnified and focused through the facets of a crystal. Amateurishness, I know, but sometime I like to try my hand at the easy things," she sighed breezily. She sat back down in her chair and leaned across to me, her playfulness dropped away and her gaze was serious.
"But Raz, this business by the wharf, are you sure you want to poke around in it? I haven't heard much but what I have isn't good. People have been disappearing which isn't new but something happened to turn up the heat. I heard the Runners are looking into it. You don't want to mess with them." She shuddered and leaned back in her chair.
That was not good news. The Runners were the known for their tenacity and their incorruptibility. If they were poking around this scheme I would have to tread lightly. But it also meant that whatever was going on was big if it had grabbed their attention. My chances for a payout were looking better and better.
I stood up and smiled at Jules. "No worries, my dear. I was born careful. I promise not to blunder into the path of a seeking Runner. And with this little gem," I added, flipping the disc in the air and catching it again, "I am set to learn a little more about what has the Runners in such a bother."
By the time we reached her neighborhood, dawn was breaking. Jules worked under a printing shop. She claimed that the sound of the printing press as it pounded out copies of the daily rag gave her inspiration. All it gave me was a headache. We reached the stairs that led down to her rooms just as the sun breached the horizon.
"Um, Raz, do I gotta?" Umberto had balked at the top of the stairs. He had resumed is shuffling and hand wringing. I stifled a sigh. Umberto didn't like Jules. Jules didn't like Umberto. They were water and oil, cats and dogs, and any other over used cliche you could think of the described to forces that did not play well together.
"Yes Berto," I replied patiently, "we got to. You lost the money, now we have to find more. Jules is the way. Sorry big guy." I patted his arm and turned back to the stairs, taking them two at a time. Umberto followed much slower.
The door was unlocked but I knew better than to open it. Instead, I swung the metal message flap up and hollared out, "Hey Jules! It's me! Is it safe to enter?"
There was a loud crash followed by what sounded like a buzzing noise and the door was pulled open and out of my hand. Jules looked disheveled but grinned up at me. She was a tiny little thing. Maybe five foot one on a good day. But if you knew Jules, you knew height meant little. Her smock was blackened with soot and she held a strange device in her hands. It was covered with gears and grease and what looked like small opalescent orb floated in air above it. I didn't even try to wrap my mind around what it was. It was out of my league.
"Razzie," grunted and frowned up at me. "You have the worst timing," she said as she turned and walked into her lair. I grinned at the back of her retreating figure before following but was stopped by Umberto tugging on my shirt tails.
"Please Raz? Please?" he asked in a whisper.
"Oh, you brought It with you I see." Jules turned and looked at Umberto. Her head tilted to the right a bit and her eye lids lowered down to slits. Then she smiled. It wasn't friendly.
"Hey now, hey now, lets not do this Jules," I stepped between them, blocking her line of sight and felt Umberto growl behind me. "Berto, why don't you go guard the door for me while I talk to Jules, ok?"
Jules had lowered her gaze and was fiddling with her device. It began giving off sparks as the orb began rotating at an alarming rate. With a grunt, Umberto turned, slammed the door and stomped up the stairs. Now it was my turn to glare.
"Really, Jules? Really? Do you have to do that? You know Umberto is harmless? Why do you have to rile him up so?" I asked and I settled myself in the nearest chair.
Jules shrugged and tossed the orb device into her desk where it sputtered to a stop. "Just can't help myself," she sighed, and she untied her smock and soothed her wrinkled dress. She glanced at me now with lowered lids and that same head tilt I had learned to watch out for.
"What are you up to Razzie? You never visit me anymore unless something is going on. Spill it. What mess have you gotten tangled up in now." She settled herself in a chair next to me and began fussing with a tray set for tea. She passed me a delicate cup and saucer then sat back with her own while I explained the situation. When I was done, she had finished her drink and was on her feet rummaging through her desk drawer.
"Ah, here it is!" she exclaimed as she pulled forth a small metal box. She opened it carefully and then spun it in her palm so its contents faced me. "This is a little gizmo I designed for a, er, client. He never claimed it so it's been gathering dust for the last few months but I think it is just what you need." Gently, she lifted a flat metal disc from the box and placed it in her palm. The disk had a large raised stone set in the center and with her free hand, Jules gentle tapped the gem. A soft glow began to emanate from the set jewel. It grew in strength until Jules tapped the gem a second time. Now the glow was a steady green light that illuminated her face in a ghastly manner. But it was strong.
"One tap on. Two taps to set. Simply turn it over," she quickly flipped the disk in her hand and the light was extinguished "and it's extinguished." She smiled at the look on my face and tossed the disc into my lap. "Really, Razzie, you are so easily amused! It's merely trapped ether magnified and focused through the facets of a crystal. Amateurishness, I know, but sometime I like to try my hand at the easy things," she sighed breezily. She sat back down in her chair and leaned across to me, her playfulness dropped away and her gaze was serious.
"But Raz, this business by the wharf, are you sure you want to poke around in it? I haven't heard much but what I have isn't good. People have been disappearing which isn't new but something happened to turn up the heat. I heard the Runners are looking into it. You don't want to mess with them." She shuddered and leaned back in her chair.
That was not good news. The Runners were the known for their tenacity and their incorruptibility. If they were poking around this scheme I would have to tread lightly. But it also meant that whatever was going on was big if it had grabbed their attention. My chances for a payout were looking better and better.
I stood up and smiled at Jules. "No worries, my dear. I was born careful. I promise not to blunder into the path of a seeking Runner. And with this little gem," I added, flipping the disc in the air and catching it again, "I am set to learn a little more about what has the Runners in such a bother."
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
When We Left For.....
My journey home was swift. The pounding rain meant the streets were clear and the city was quiet. As my feet lead, my mind began to ponder options. We needed money. Fast. There were a few favors I could call in but was hesitant to do so. I had worked long and hard to get my head above water. To throw it all away and be back at zero? The thought brought an ache to my hart. I rounded the corner onto Rubin Street and ducked into the alley behind The Heated Stone. If not a favor, then we could hire out. I grimaced at the thought and mounted the stairs two at a time up to our rooms. I hated working for someone else. Being your own boss, that the only way to go in my mind. My rules, my way. I hadn't taken orders in over two years and the idea of having to cowtow to some fat bossman made me hit the door hard as I entered our apartment.
Umberto shot out of his chair when he heard me come in. He stood there, all six feet three inches of him, shifting from foot to foot, rubbing his hands together, his face drawn in anguish.
"Where you been Raz?" he asked, his big hands reaching toward me in supplication. I batted them away and pushed past him into the kitchen.
"Thinking Berto. Something you know nothing about." I banged about, setting the pot onto the stove and lighting the gas burner. Once the flame took, I turned to face my half-brother. Umberto was back to his rocking and hand wringing. I felt some of my anger seep away. It wasn't really his fault. It was an accident. Berto was famous for his "accidents". Blaming him didn't get us anywhere. It never did. We needed a plan and that was my specialty. Umberto must have seen something on my face because he stopped rocking and offered me a timid smile.
"You aren't still mad at me? Are you Raz? 'Cause I'm really really sorry. I just thought it was a box, you know? If I had know about the money I'd of never thrown it out. Promise Raz! I dinnit mean nothin' by it, you know?" he stammered.
Berto had our mother's eyes: large, soft and brown. My own were blue. They have been called shifty, squity, and calculating. Doe-like, they are not. Guess I take after my dad in that area, whoever he was. We both shared our mom's brown curly hair with a steak of white right above the left ear. That white streak was how we had found each other. And although Umberto caused me no end of trouble, he was family. All the family I had. With a sigh,, I crossed over to him and patted his forearm.
"It's ok Berto, it's ok. I know it was an accident and I'm not mad. Not anymore, at least. But you understand that we are in trouble now, right? Marco will want his usual payment next week and we don't have the funds to set us right with him now. And that's bad Umberto. Got it?
Berto nodded his head eagerly and smiled down at me. The kettle started to whistle so I headed back into the kitchen, talking over my shoulder.
"We have to make some cash, and fast. The way I see it, we can call in our favors and hope we can squeeze out enough to make it for this month or we need to take a risk." I poured hot water into my battered cup and dropped in a strainer of tea before I continued. "We could hire ourselves out but that would take too long and I don't want to go back to that. Not unless we have to. So that leave, what?" I mused.
I turned back to Umberto whose brow was creased in deep concentration. Just seeing him trying to puzzle this out made me smile. The tip of his tongue stuck between his lips and his shoulders were hunched up almost to his ears. I was tempted to leave him like that all night but we didn't have time.
"Jules," I stated.
Umberto's eyebrows shot up and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he quickly swallowed twice. Then again.
"Sorry my brother, but it's the only hope we've got," I said as I grabbed my mug and took a sip.
"But, Raz," Umberto whinned, "I don't like Jules. She makes me....." He shuddered and frowned.
"Uncomfortable?" I offered.
"Yeah, uncomforted," Umberto replied. "Do we gotta?"
Yes, Berto, we gotta," I said and dumped the rest of my drink in the sink. I grabbed my coat and headed for the door. Umberto followed me slowly, his feet dragging reluctantly. When we left for Jules' that night, I had no idea what lay before us. If I did, I would have found another way, no matter how distasteful, to make our payment. But hindsight, as they say, is clear. That night, as we stepped into the light of the moons, we were blind to the fate that lay before us.
Umberto shot out of his chair when he heard me come in. He stood there, all six feet three inches of him, shifting from foot to foot, rubbing his hands together, his face drawn in anguish.
"Where you been Raz?" he asked, his big hands reaching toward me in supplication. I batted them away and pushed past him into the kitchen.
"Thinking Berto. Something you know nothing about." I banged about, setting the pot onto the stove and lighting the gas burner. Once the flame took, I turned to face my half-brother. Umberto was back to his rocking and hand wringing. I felt some of my anger seep away. It wasn't really his fault. It was an accident. Berto was famous for his "accidents". Blaming him didn't get us anywhere. It never did. We needed a plan and that was my specialty. Umberto must have seen something on my face because he stopped rocking and offered me a timid smile.
"You aren't still mad at me? Are you Raz? 'Cause I'm really really sorry. I just thought it was a box, you know? If I had know about the money I'd of never thrown it out. Promise Raz! I dinnit mean nothin' by it, you know?" he stammered.
Berto had our mother's eyes: large, soft and brown. My own were blue. They have been called shifty, squity, and calculating. Doe-like, they are not. Guess I take after my dad in that area, whoever he was. We both shared our mom's brown curly hair with a steak of white right above the left ear. That white streak was how we had found each other. And although Umberto caused me no end of trouble, he was family. All the family I had. With a sigh,, I crossed over to him and patted his forearm.
"It's ok Berto, it's ok. I know it was an accident and I'm not mad. Not anymore, at least. But you understand that we are in trouble now, right? Marco will want his usual payment next week and we don't have the funds to set us right with him now. And that's bad Umberto. Got it?
Berto nodded his head eagerly and smiled down at me. The kettle started to whistle so I headed back into the kitchen, talking over my shoulder.
"We have to make some cash, and fast. The way I see it, we can call in our favors and hope we can squeeze out enough to make it for this month or we need to take a risk." I poured hot water into my battered cup and dropped in a strainer of tea before I continued. "We could hire ourselves out but that would take too long and I don't want to go back to that. Not unless we have to. So that leave, what?" I mused.
I turned back to Umberto whose brow was creased in deep concentration. Just seeing him trying to puzzle this out made me smile. The tip of his tongue stuck between his lips and his shoulders were hunched up almost to his ears. I was tempted to leave him like that all night but we didn't have time.
"Jules," I stated.
Umberto's eyebrows shot up and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he quickly swallowed twice. Then again.
"Sorry my brother, but it's the only hope we've got," I said as I grabbed my mug and took a sip.
"But, Raz," Umberto whinned, "I don't like Jules. She makes me....." He shuddered and frowned.
"Uncomfortable?" I offered.
"Yeah, uncomforted," Umberto replied. "Do we gotta?"
Yes, Berto, we gotta," I said and dumped the rest of my drink in the sink. I grabbed my coat and headed for the door. Umberto followed me slowly, his feet dragging reluctantly. When we left for Jules' that night, I had no idea what lay before us. If I did, I would have found another way, no matter how distasteful, to make our payment. But hindsight, as they say, is clear. That night, as we stepped into the light of the moons, we were blind to the fate that lay before us.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Write About Being Deserted
The playground was a jumble of screaming kids, flying tether balls, and the rhythmic slap of jump ropes. Pigtails flew and screams of delight echoed off the play-shed. It was am recess for the third grade. A whole 15 minutes to run and scream and tackle and play. Looking over the blacktop, my eye skipped over the bursts of activity. With so many bodies whirling in motions, my eye didn't stop until it came upon a still figure in the corner of the shed. She stood with her back to the wall, slowly tossing a ball from one hand to the other. In the midst of that laughing and whirling and screaming, she stood out in stark relief. Wide brown eyes watched the groups that sped past her. I saw her lean toward one laughing pile of girls that paused beside her. She took a hesitant step toward them before they fled to the monkey bars, leaving her deserted, left to watch their flight like a flock of startled birds. She began tossing her ball again. Slowly,. Carefully. Her eyes began scanning the playground again and from the recess of my brain I found myself remembering the intimidation of a group. How hard it was to approach, and ask, and try. Determined, I walked across the court to her and smiled. She met my eyes and slowly smiled back.
"Want to play hand ball?" I asked.
":Sure," she beamed at me and ran to the ball bin for the rubber red ball. She was back in a flash. We had barely started playing when our deserted corner began to fill. Teachers rarely played with the kids during recess. It was our 15 minute solace as well. Only for us, it was a time without questions and bickering and fidgeting. When a teacher did wander into the fray, the results were immediate. Soon we were swamped with kids who wanted in. I let her lead the effort to form teams and rules. Slowly, I slid to the back of the group, morphing from player to ref, to cheer leader. I was as surprised as the kids when the whistle blew announcing free time was over. The kids scurried to return the balls and and jump ropes. I turned to collect my group of students when I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist.
"Thanks Mrs. Miller," she said, her brown hair hiding her face but I could feel her smile. "That was the best recess ever!" I hugged her back and watched her run, happily to her line. She was engulfed with a crowd of giggling, wiggling bodies. No longer an eye sore, she melded right in with just as many giggles and wiggles as the rest. A very good recess indeed.
"Want to play hand ball?" I asked.
":Sure," she beamed at me and ran to the ball bin for the rubber red ball. She was back in a flash. We had barely started playing when our deserted corner began to fill. Teachers rarely played with the kids during recess. It was our 15 minute solace as well. Only for us, it was a time without questions and bickering and fidgeting. When a teacher did wander into the fray, the results were immediate. Soon we were swamped with kids who wanted in. I let her lead the effort to form teams and rules. Slowly, I slid to the back of the group, morphing from player to ref, to cheer leader. I was as surprised as the kids when the whistle blew announcing free time was over. The kids scurried to return the balls and and jump ropes. I turned to collect my group of students when I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist.
"Thanks Mrs. Miller," she said, her brown hair hiding her face but I could feel her smile. "That was the best recess ever!" I hugged her back and watched her run, happily to her line. She was engulfed with a crowd of giggling, wiggling bodies. No longer an eye sore, she melded right in with just as many giggles and wiggles as the rest. A very good recess indeed.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Write About Small Madnesses
It was the socks that did me in. The week had been long and grueling. My boss was on a rampage, and I had put in far too many hours trying to appease her. Dinner had been takeout for the last three nights in a row and the dirty glasses and silverware still littered the kitchen, a silent reminder of yet another chore left neglected. But for whatever reason, it was the socks that finally broke me.
I opened the door and dragged myself into the house around seven that night. The dog started barking wildly and the cats immediately demanded that their bowls be filled. I tried to wave them off but they quickly turned on each other as cats and dogs often do. With a sigh, I pushed myself off the sofa and headed toward the laundry room to feed the animals. The first pair of dirty socks were right there, next to me on the cushion. Brown and crusty, they stank of shoes and foot. I balled them in my fist to take with me, the animals dancing at my feet. The second pair lay right on the thresh hold of the kitchen, as if welcoming me to the disaster that lay inside. One was turned inside out and the other sported a large hole at the toe. Amid the barks and mournful meows, I bent down and added this second pair to my hoard. Down the stairs to the the laundry room, I encountered the third pair of the night. Just as disgusting, lying neglected on the concert floor. Too tired to bend over, I kicked them before me into the laundry room where they landed next to the mounds of unwashed clothing.
I poured cat food, scooped dog kibble and took a deep breath in the silence that followed. The aroma of unwashed socked slinked up my nose but I enjoyed the silence nonetheless. Revived, I headed back upstairs into the kitchen to tackled dinner. One look at the mess and I knew it was too much. I resigned myself to McDonalds again and turned to the bedroom. With a groan, I kicked off my shoes and feel face first onto my bed. And onto another pair of dirty socks. I snapped. The dog, the cats, the crazy work, a house left to ruin and now, more socks mocking my failure. I suppose I went a little mad. But who can blame me? A haze of red rose before my eyes just as my ears picked up the sound of my husband coming through the front door. I stormed out of the bed room and pushed my way through the twining cats and barking dog to face him, the offending socks thrust before his face. He looked at them with surprise.
"If I find one more pair of your disgusting socks lying around this house, I will leave!" I bit out the words, loading them with all the venom and anger and frustration of the week.
We stood face to face for a moment, the socks between us, and then he gathered me in his arms, pressed his cheek to mine, and murmured into my ear, "So, you want McDonalds or Arby's for dinner tonight?"
I opened the door and dragged myself into the house around seven that night. The dog started barking wildly and the cats immediately demanded that their bowls be filled. I tried to wave them off but they quickly turned on each other as cats and dogs often do. With a sigh, I pushed myself off the sofa and headed toward the laundry room to feed the animals. The first pair of dirty socks were right there, next to me on the cushion. Brown and crusty, they stank of shoes and foot. I balled them in my fist to take with me, the animals dancing at my feet. The second pair lay right on the thresh hold of the kitchen, as if welcoming me to the disaster that lay inside. One was turned inside out and the other sported a large hole at the toe. Amid the barks and mournful meows, I bent down and added this second pair to my hoard. Down the stairs to the the laundry room, I encountered the third pair of the night. Just as disgusting, lying neglected on the concert floor. Too tired to bend over, I kicked them before me into the laundry room where they landed next to the mounds of unwashed clothing.
I poured cat food, scooped dog kibble and took a deep breath in the silence that followed. The aroma of unwashed socked slinked up my nose but I enjoyed the silence nonetheless. Revived, I headed back upstairs into the kitchen to tackled dinner. One look at the mess and I knew it was too much. I resigned myself to McDonalds again and turned to the bedroom. With a groan, I kicked off my shoes and feel face first onto my bed. And onto another pair of dirty socks. I snapped. The dog, the cats, the crazy work, a house left to ruin and now, more socks mocking my failure. I suppose I went a little mad. But who can blame me? A haze of red rose before my eyes just as my ears picked up the sound of my husband coming through the front door. I stormed out of the bed room and pushed my way through the twining cats and barking dog to face him, the offending socks thrust before his face. He looked at them with surprise.
"If I find one more pair of your disgusting socks lying around this house, I will leave!" I bit out the words, loading them with all the venom and anger and frustration of the week.
We stood face to face for a moment, the socks between us, and then he gathered me in his arms, pressed his cheek to mine, and murmured into my ear, "So, you want McDonalds or Arby's for dinner tonight?"
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Write About Unsubstantiated Rumors
They said there were ghosts. Depending on who you spoke to the details varied but the at the heart the story was the same. The house on the corner of Pine and Oregon was haunted. Like most rumors, the details were fuzzy. A friend of a friend had once spent the night and emerged with a head of white hair unable to speak. Someone's cousin swore that lights flickered at midnight on a full moon from the upstairs window even though there was no one living in the house. Great uncles spun yarns before gullible eyes of phantom mists and unnatural accidents. Although the stories were plenty, they were all second hand. No one could say they had personally experienced anything out of the ordinary until the summer of my fourteenth birthday when Phyllis disappeared. No one believes me but I swear to you on a stack of Bibles that the house took her. I swear its true. Because I saw it.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Write About Denial
It was gone.
I felt the panic rising up, withing through my gut, and my stomach began to churn. Desperately, I tore everything off the table, breathing hard. No file. With my hands pressed flat on the table top, I took three deep breaths to calm myself and then began slowly, methodically, picking up every piece of paper off the floor one at a time. The file was definitely gone. I sank down into the nearest chair and thought. My head was still fuzzy from my cold and my throat was sore from coughing but I barely noticed. Right now, my whole being was focused on trying to remember where the file had gone. I got up and paced to the front door. I walked through my actions like an actor at a dress rehearsal. Came in, dropped my keys and purse on the side table. A quick rummage turned up no file folder. Next I went into the kitchen to put on the pot for tea. I retraced my steps. The pot was still steaming and my neglected cup of peppermint tea sat cooling on the counter. I touched everything on the counter but it was no use. No folder. Then what? I could have sworn I headed to the table and dropped the folder there but a recheck still came up empty. The phone! I turned and headed into the small room off the front entry that I used for my home office. Leslie had called me and I had picked up here, by my desk. With mounting hope I rummaged through various papers and files but the blue folder was nowhere. I paused, stumped, racking my brain for what came next. Leslie had come by to check on me, we had chatted over tea, then she left and I headed back to the kitchen to clean up. What else? There had to be something else. Something I was missing. After Leslie left, had I seen the file? I froze right in the door frame between the office and foyer. Had I seen the file after Leslie left? I leaned against the door jam for support as the answer rose in my head. I hadn't.
Leslie.
No, no, it couldn't be. I paced anxiously up and down the hallway trying to think of a scenario where the folder disappeared without Leslie being involved. But the more I paced, the more pieces fell together. Leslie had been so helpful and concerned. She always appeared right when I needed her. I never thought it through before but her involvement was kind of odd. After all, we were only distant cousins but yet she had stuck her neck out for me numerous times this last week. Hell, I would never have gotten my hands on that file without her. She was the one with the contacts at the police station. She was the one who arranged for the money drop. She was the one who had showed up to check on my head cold and then walked out of here and the file was gone.
":Damn it," I whispered as I cut my pacing short and headed to the phone. I didn't want to make this call but I could no long deny the truth. Leslie had played me.
Bruce answered on the second ring.
"Yo."
"It's me. We have a situation."
"Go."
"It's Leslie. She has the folder. She has all of it."
There was silence on the line. I could hear Bruce breathing and the faint sound of cheering in the background. Was he at a bar?
"You sure?" he asked at last.
"Yeah, I'm sure."
"OK, what's the play?"
"I'm going to call her. Maybe I'm wrong but I double it. Can you be at her place in 10? If you see her try to run, grab her and call me. We can meet at the warehouse and decided how to cover this up. It needs to happen quickly but it needs to be quiet Bruce, got it?" Bruce was very effective but he also tended to be very loud and didn't care about innocent bystanders. The last thing I needed was the cops interested in me again when I was this close to free. Damn Leslie.
"Got it. Make the call in 10." Bruce hung up. I slammed the phone down with more force than necessary but I was sweating. From the cold or anger or nerves, I just didn't know. Leslie. Oh Leslie, why? To kill time, I headed back to the kitchen and poured anther cup of tea. I sipped it slowly while watching the clock, watching the pieces fall into place, seeing for the first time what she had done. When ten minutes were up, I picked up my phone, took a deep breath, and dialed.
The phone rang and rang. Right when I thought she was already gone, she picked up.
"Hello?"
"Hey Les, it's me," I croaked into the phone, adding a hacking cough for good measure.
"Oh man, you sound awful! Are you drinking that tea I brought you?
"Yeah, thanks Les. You have been so great. I don't know what I'd do without you." My words came out sweet but my thoughts were much darker. "Listen, I have one last favor to ask. Could you run over to Longs and get me some NyQuil? I need my head clear when I meet with Jason to give him the info. He should be here in about an hour or so. And maybe I could introduce you? You never know, after all this clears up, he may have some work for you too."
I could hear the pause now that I was listening for it. She was good though. Her voice stayed steady.
"Sure hon. No problem. I'll pop out to the store and head right over. I should be there in, like, five, ok?"
I clicked off the line but didn't put the phone down. Some part of me still hoped I was wrong. Some small part still believed the phone would not ring. But it did.
"Yo. I got her. She was runnin. Meet you at the warehouse?"
"Yeah Bruce. See you there."
Oh Leslie. Why?
I felt the panic rising up, withing through my gut, and my stomach began to churn. Desperately, I tore everything off the table, breathing hard. No file. With my hands pressed flat on the table top, I took three deep breaths to calm myself and then began slowly, methodically, picking up every piece of paper off the floor one at a time. The file was definitely gone. I sank down into the nearest chair and thought. My head was still fuzzy from my cold and my throat was sore from coughing but I barely noticed. Right now, my whole being was focused on trying to remember where the file had gone. I got up and paced to the front door. I walked through my actions like an actor at a dress rehearsal. Came in, dropped my keys and purse on the side table. A quick rummage turned up no file folder. Next I went into the kitchen to put on the pot for tea. I retraced my steps. The pot was still steaming and my neglected cup of peppermint tea sat cooling on the counter. I touched everything on the counter but it was no use. No folder. Then what? I could have sworn I headed to the table and dropped the folder there but a recheck still came up empty. The phone! I turned and headed into the small room off the front entry that I used for my home office. Leslie had called me and I had picked up here, by my desk. With mounting hope I rummaged through various papers and files but the blue folder was nowhere. I paused, stumped, racking my brain for what came next. Leslie had come by to check on me, we had chatted over tea, then she left and I headed back to the kitchen to clean up. What else? There had to be something else. Something I was missing. After Leslie left, had I seen the file? I froze right in the door frame between the office and foyer. Had I seen the file after Leslie left? I leaned against the door jam for support as the answer rose in my head. I hadn't.
Leslie.
No, no, it couldn't be. I paced anxiously up and down the hallway trying to think of a scenario where the folder disappeared without Leslie being involved. But the more I paced, the more pieces fell together. Leslie had been so helpful and concerned. She always appeared right when I needed her. I never thought it through before but her involvement was kind of odd. After all, we were only distant cousins but yet she had stuck her neck out for me numerous times this last week. Hell, I would never have gotten my hands on that file without her. She was the one with the contacts at the police station. She was the one who arranged for the money drop. She was the one who had showed up to check on my head cold and then walked out of here and the file was gone.
":Damn it," I whispered as I cut my pacing short and headed to the phone. I didn't want to make this call but I could no long deny the truth. Leslie had played me.
Bruce answered on the second ring.
"Yo."
"It's me. We have a situation."
"Go."
"It's Leslie. She has the folder. She has all of it."
There was silence on the line. I could hear Bruce breathing and the faint sound of cheering in the background. Was he at a bar?
"You sure?" he asked at last.
"Yeah, I'm sure."
"OK, what's the play?"
"I'm going to call her. Maybe I'm wrong but I double it. Can you be at her place in 10? If you see her try to run, grab her and call me. We can meet at the warehouse and decided how to cover this up. It needs to happen quickly but it needs to be quiet Bruce, got it?" Bruce was very effective but he also tended to be very loud and didn't care about innocent bystanders. The last thing I needed was the cops interested in me again when I was this close to free. Damn Leslie.
"Got it. Make the call in 10." Bruce hung up. I slammed the phone down with more force than necessary but I was sweating. From the cold or anger or nerves, I just didn't know. Leslie. Oh Leslie, why? To kill time, I headed back to the kitchen and poured anther cup of tea. I sipped it slowly while watching the clock, watching the pieces fall into place, seeing for the first time what she had done. When ten minutes were up, I picked up my phone, took a deep breath, and dialed.
The phone rang and rang. Right when I thought she was already gone, she picked up.
"Hello?"
"Hey Les, it's me," I croaked into the phone, adding a hacking cough for good measure.
"Oh man, you sound awful! Are you drinking that tea I brought you?
"Yeah, thanks Les. You have been so great. I don't know what I'd do without you." My words came out sweet but my thoughts were much darker. "Listen, I have one last favor to ask. Could you run over to Longs and get me some NyQuil? I need my head clear when I meet with Jason to give him the info. He should be here in about an hour or so. And maybe I could introduce you? You never know, after all this clears up, he may have some work for you too."
I could hear the pause now that I was listening for it. She was good though. Her voice stayed steady.
"Sure hon. No problem. I'll pop out to the store and head right over. I should be there in, like, five, ok?"
I clicked off the line but didn't put the phone down. Some part of me still hoped I was wrong. Some small part still believed the phone would not ring. But it did.
"Yo. I got her. She was runnin. Meet you at the warehouse?"
"Yeah Bruce. See you there."
Oh Leslie. Why?
Sunday, September 25, 2011
What I Said Was Not What I Was Thinking
"No! That's totally fine. I don't mind at all. Really! I can totally take them for a little bit for you."
Only I did. Mind that is. This was the third time Cindy had called with an "emergency" and begged to drop her kids off at my house. Of course, she swore it would only be for an hour but I knew better. Yesterday her hour and turned into four. When she came to pick up her kids, she admitted that she and her husband had decided to go to dinner since they were kid free. Part of me seethed inside as I hung up the phone. Why couldn't I just say no, I don't want your awful kids in my house. I sighed and paced the kitchen floor and in my mind I ran through all the things I should have said. I kicked myself for being such a marshmallow. Who knows how long she'd be gone this time? I decided to arm myself with a made-up appointment for later this afternoon and braced for the sound of her knocking on my door.
"OhmyGod! You are such a life-saver! Thank you so much! I cannot tell you how you have saved me!" Cindy gushed as she herded her two boys into my house. They immediately ran off in different directions and the sounds of destruction began ringing forth. She dropped a large diaper bag at her feet and primped her ponytail.
"So, I have, like, a hundred errands to run but I swear, it should only take me an hour," she smiled at me and then glanced at her watch. "Tyler had a bit of a tummy ache last night but I'm sure he's find now," she continued, "but I packed extra diapers just in case." She reached out and grabbed me by my upper arm. "You are the best hon! Thanks a ton!"
"Sure Cindy, no problem," I muttered into her insincere smile. "But you need to pick them up by three. I have a dentist appointment that I have to make."
Her face fell and she tapped her lips with a red fingernail. "Oh, huh, that isn't going to work for me" she dragged the work out looking at me with concern, "I may not be back by then."
She paused at let the silence hang between us. My first thought was to rush in and smooth things over, tell her to take her time, that I could work something out. But I bit my tongue and smiled at her. The silence lengthened. Finally, I broke. "Well, I'm really sorry. I wish I could take them longer but..." I shrugged my shoulders and held my breath.
"Where is your dentist?" Cindy asked me.
"Over in Tigard," I answered, amazed at how easily the lie fell from my lips.
Cindy's face lit up. "Ohmygod! That is so perfect! I have to run by a store over there! Why don't I just meet you there with the kiddos and grab them from you then! You don't mind taking them with you? Do you?" Cindy beamed at me.
"Say NO," my brain raged but I found myself floundering. Time seemed to slow and I heard myself parroting back her very words, assuring her I didn't mind at all. There was a whirl of blond hair and black yoga pants and she was gone. As I closed the door behind her, wondering how I got myself into this mess, I heard the sound of crying coming from upstairs followed by screams. I rested my head against the cool glass of the door before I slowly made my ways up the steps to face the rest of my Thursday afternoon.
Only I did. Mind that is. This was the third time Cindy had called with an "emergency" and begged to drop her kids off at my house. Of course, she swore it would only be for an hour but I knew better. Yesterday her hour and turned into four. When she came to pick up her kids, she admitted that she and her husband had decided to go to dinner since they were kid free. Part of me seethed inside as I hung up the phone. Why couldn't I just say no, I don't want your awful kids in my house. I sighed and paced the kitchen floor and in my mind I ran through all the things I should have said. I kicked myself for being such a marshmallow. Who knows how long she'd be gone this time? I decided to arm myself with a made-up appointment for later this afternoon and braced for the sound of her knocking on my door.
"OhmyGod! You are such a life-saver! Thank you so much! I cannot tell you how you have saved me!" Cindy gushed as she herded her two boys into my house. They immediately ran off in different directions and the sounds of destruction began ringing forth. She dropped a large diaper bag at her feet and primped her ponytail.
"So, I have, like, a hundred errands to run but I swear, it should only take me an hour," she smiled at me and then glanced at her watch. "Tyler had a bit of a tummy ache last night but I'm sure he's find now," she continued, "but I packed extra diapers just in case." She reached out and grabbed me by my upper arm. "You are the best hon! Thanks a ton!"
"Sure Cindy, no problem," I muttered into her insincere smile. "But you need to pick them up by three. I have a dentist appointment that I have to make."
Her face fell and she tapped her lips with a red fingernail. "Oh, huh, that isn't going to work for me" she dragged the work out looking at me with concern, "I may not be back by then."
She paused at let the silence hang between us. My first thought was to rush in and smooth things over, tell her to take her time, that I could work something out. But I bit my tongue and smiled at her. The silence lengthened. Finally, I broke. "Well, I'm really sorry. I wish I could take them longer but..." I shrugged my shoulders and held my breath.
"Where is your dentist?" Cindy asked me.
"Over in Tigard," I answered, amazed at how easily the lie fell from my lips.
Cindy's face lit up. "Ohmygod! That is so perfect! I have to run by a store over there! Why don't I just meet you there with the kiddos and grab them from you then! You don't mind taking them with you? Do you?" Cindy beamed at me.
"Say NO," my brain raged but I found myself floundering. Time seemed to slow and I heard myself parroting back her very words, assuring her I didn't mind at all. There was a whirl of blond hair and black yoga pants and she was gone. As I closed the door behind her, wondering how I got myself into this mess, I heard the sound of crying coming from upstairs followed by screams. I rested my head against the cool glass of the door before I slowly made my ways up the steps to face the rest of my Thursday afternoon.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
The Landscape of Longing
Lisa's hair was long, blond and straight. She was the undisputed queen of fifth grade and I watched her every day at recess. I would sit on the cement curb under the holly tree with a book propped in my lap but my eyes never sought the page. They were far too busy following the swirl of blond hair around the playground. Her hair fell straight from a center part along her back to just below her shoulder blades. It was two tones. A honey blond on top with darker streaks underneath. She never wore it up. It was always loose and flowing and whipped behind her as she ran with her friends.
My own hair was sorely lacking. It hung in two heavy braids down the side of my cheeks. Thick, coarse, and brown, it tended to frizz and tangle at a moments notice. Every year I dressed as an Indian girl for Halloween and my braids melded in nicely. But my hair kept its costume on year round. The two heavy braids reappearing year after year in school photos and Christmas cards. My hair never whipped behind me in a silken wave when I ran. It never fell and framed my face in a gentle stream.
But Lisa's hair, while enviable, was not my hearts desire. What I really wanted were her eyes. They were blue. So blue they were clear; the color of aquamarine. I remember hearing a song on the radio once. It was a country music station my mom listened to and the song caught my ear. "'I"m gonna make my brown eyes bluuuuuuue," crooned the singer. Of course she was singing about a broken heart and cowboy whose eye wandered but for me, at all our eleven years old, I took the song for truth and it settled in my heart. Every time I looked in the mirror at my own brown eyes, I heard that refrain circling min my head. If only I could make my eyes blue. Clear blue. The desire followed me through middle and high school. Lisa from fifth grade was my standard. My unattainable goal. Hundreds of dollars were spent on magazines and hair treatments to try and copy those smooth silken locks. Countless hours were spent sighing in front of mirrors. Eventually, I settled into my skin. Accepted my wild hair and plain eyes. But the sight of a girl with straight blond hair and blue blue eyes still causes a small pain somewhere inside.
My own hair was sorely lacking. It hung in two heavy braids down the side of my cheeks. Thick, coarse, and brown, it tended to frizz and tangle at a moments notice. Every year I dressed as an Indian girl for Halloween and my braids melded in nicely. But my hair kept its costume on year round. The two heavy braids reappearing year after year in school photos and Christmas cards. My hair never whipped behind me in a silken wave when I ran. It never fell and framed my face in a gentle stream.
But Lisa's hair, while enviable, was not my hearts desire. What I really wanted were her eyes. They were blue. So blue they were clear; the color of aquamarine. I remember hearing a song on the radio once. It was a country music station my mom listened to and the song caught my ear. "'I"m gonna make my brown eyes bluuuuuuue," crooned the singer. Of course she was singing about a broken heart and cowboy whose eye wandered but for me, at all our eleven years old, I took the song for truth and it settled in my heart. Every time I looked in the mirror at my own brown eyes, I heard that refrain circling min my head. If only I could make my eyes blue. Clear blue. The desire followed me through middle and high school. Lisa from fifth grade was my standard. My unattainable goal. Hundreds of dollars were spent on magazines and hair treatments to try and copy those smooth silken locks. Countless hours were spent sighing in front of mirrors. Eventually, I settled into my skin. Accepted my wild hair and plain eyes. But the sight of a girl with straight blond hair and blue blue eyes still causes a small pain somewhere inside.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Write About Going Underground
I had heard rumors of the tunnels. They supposedly criss-crossed under the city and were used to smuggle illegal gin or tussled up kids to the slaver ships. If course, that was all they were, rumors, so I never paid them much attention. I was busy just trying to get by. Trade was down and my usual haunts were quickly drying up. I probably never would have even steeped foot underground if it weren't for Umberto.
Umberto is my half brother. He's loyal as a dog and about as smart. Jules says I should have ditched him long ago but some last soft part of my heart won't let me. So Umberto follows me around, always underfoot, always sorry, and always a pain. I know he was trying to help when he managed to lose out savings. I told myself that while I counted slowly to twenty but it didn't do much good. I had carefully stashed every last farthing we owned into the side of this old cardboard box. I slit it so gently, you couldn't even tell the money was in there. It was a perfect hiding place. So perfect, that Umberto tossed the box in an attempt to clean the place up. So it was gone. All of it. All that was left was my anger and Umberto who was crying and apologizing all in the same breath.
I stormed out of our room, down the stairs, and into the alley that lead behind the building. I was somewhere between desperate and furious and wasn't exactly aware of where I was going. My head was in turmoil and my feet where on their own. They lead me down to the wharf. It was late, and the air was cool and salty. I remember grabbing the railing and staring at my white knuckles while my mind raced looking for an answer. I don't know how long I stood there but it must have been a while because I saw the movement out of the corner of my eye. Just a flutter of something darker than black down below me. I was aware of the shuffle of feet and a muttered curse. It took me a minute to realize that what I was seeing was an abduction. Three men had a kid bundled up in a black blanket. One at the feet, the other the head. The third held open a section of what looked like a stone wall. The blanket was limp and unresistant but it was clearly a small body. Why I stood there, motionless, I don't know. Maybe I was in shock. Maybe some survival instinct still functioned under my rage. But for whatever reason, I watched in silence as the three men walked up the gangplank to the moored ship before them and disappeared below deck.
Remember now, I was desperate. Hard times call for hard choice so don't judge me just yet. I hopped the railing and found myself in front of the immovable stone wall. Only I knew it moved. Carefully, my hand felt the rocks and mortar looking for the catch. It didn't take long to find and soon the stone moved for me as well. With the moon to my back, I peered down into the darkness. The tunnel was crude but roomy. The sides were dirt with some wooden support beams. I could only see a few feet ahead and then the air turned black. A deep, heavy black not of mystery. This black smothered. There was no way I was going one step further without a good torch and some back up. Carefully, I swung the stone wall closed and padded back to my rooms for my half-brother. Perhaps, just perhaps, our troubles could be solved tonight.
Umberto is my half brother. He's loyal as a dog and about as smart. Jules says I should have ditched him long ago but some last soft part of my heart won't let me. So Umberto follows me around, always underfoot, always sorry, and always a pain. I know he was trying to help when he managed to lose out savings. I told myself that while I counted slowly to twenty but it didn't do much good. I had carefully stashed every last farthing we owned into the side of this old cardboard box. I slit it so gently, you couldn't even tell the money was in there. It was a perfect hiding place. So perfect, that Umberto tossed the box in an attempt to clean the place up. So it was gone. All of it. All that was left was my anger and Umberto who was crying and apologizing all in the same breath.
I stormed out of our room, down the stairs, and into the alley that lead behind the building. I was somewhere between desperate and furious and wasn't exactly aware of where I was going. My head was in turmoil and my feet where on their own. They lead me down to the wharf. It was late, and the air was cool and salty. I remember grabbing the railing and staring at my white knuckles while my mind raced looking for an answer. I don't know how long I stood there but it must have been a while because I saw the movement out of the corner of my eye. Just a flutter of something darker than black down below me. I was aware of the shuffle of feet and a muttered curse. It took me a minute to realize that what I was seeing was an abduction. Three men had a kid bundled up in a black blanket. One at the feet, the other the head. The third held open a section of what looked like a stone wall. The blanket was limp and unresistant but it was clearly a small body. Why I stood there, motionless, I don't know. Maybe I was in shock. Maybe some survival instinct still functioned under my rage. But for whatever reason, I watched in silence as the three men walked up the gangplank to the moored ship before them and disappeared below deck.
Remember now, I was desperate. Hard times call for hard choice so don't judge me just yet. I hopped the railing and found myself in front of the immovable stone wall. Only I knew it moved. Carefully, my hand felt the rocks and mortar looking for the catch. It didn't take long to find and soon the stone moved for me as well. With the moon to my back, I peered down into the darkness. The tunnel was crude but roomy. The sides were dirt with some wooden support beams. I could only see a few feet ahead and then the air turned black. A deep, heavy black not of mystery. This black smothered. There was no way I was going one step further without a good torch and some back up. Carefully, I swung the stone wall closed and padded back to my rooms for my half-brother. Perhaps, just perhaps, our troubles could be solved tonight.
Friday, September 9, 2011
"If I want I can remember everything"
For some reason, I did the Sept 9th prompt on Sept 6th. So, to keep with this strange logic, I guess I'll try the Sept 6th prompt for today? Clearly, I need to find my rhythm again!
If I want, I can remember everything-
Conversations late into the night,
Kisses stolen behind shrubbery with green leaves glinting moonlight.
The languor of your hand on my thigh.
But memory is dirty; it won't let me stop.
Though I want, I can remember everything-
Evasive glances and stony silence,
A distance that grows despite my pleads and tears,
The heartbreak of being left behind.
So what will it be?
Curse or blessing?
Gift or bane?
If I want, I can remember everything.
But can I also forget you if I try?
If I want, I can remember everything-
Conversations late into the night,
Kisses stolen behind shrubbery with green leaves glinting moonlight.
The languor of your hand on my thigh.
But memory is dirty; it won't let me stop.
Though I want, I can remember everything-
Evasive glances and stony silence,
A distance that grows despite my pleads and tears,
The heartbreak of being left behind.
So what will it be?
Curse or blessing?
Gift or bane?
If I want, I can remember everything.
But can I also forget you if I try?
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
"...having lived away from home"
Alright guys, it's time to get back on the writing wagon. Summer is over. We are tanned and rested and ready to pickup our pens, er, keyboards, right? Right! It says we have 100 posts so far. That is impressive. Very impressive. Pat yourself on the back. Now, put your hands back on the keys and write!
Jenny watched her old home roll into view. She wasn't sure how she felt as she pulled into the driveway that curved along side the house. Her return was not in victory or defeat. It was unexpected. When she had left, twenty three year ago, she had vowed never to set foot in this town again. And yet, here she was, with one foot planted on the drive and the other still in her car. She lingered like this, uncommitted, for some time. She could see herself at eight, hair flying, roller skating down this driveway with what felt like supersonic speed. She remembered the knockdown, drag out fights at age 14 with her mom, both of them standing on the drive in the rain yelling at each other with such hatred. But the memory that tugged at her most was the day she left. She was 18 and so sure of herself as she stalked down the drive, around the bend and out of sight of this house, this town, and everything it held. But twenty three years ages a person. It grants wisdom and failure in equal measure. Jenny knew, wisely, that her return was not failure. But she also knew her return was not welcomed either. And so, as she committed that second foot to the drive, she resolved that this time, she would not walk away until all her demons were confronted and all issues resolved. She was home, at last.
Jenny watched her old home roll into view. She wasn't sure how she felt as she pulled into the driveway that curved along side the house. Her return was not in victory or defeat. It was unexpected. When she had left, twenty three year ago, she had vowed never to set foot in this town again. And yet, here she was, with one foot planted on the drive and the other still in her car. She lingered like this, uncommitted, for some time. She could see herself at eight, hair flying, roller skating down this driveway with what felt like supersonic speed. She remembered the knockdown, drag out fights at age 14 with her mom, both of them standing on the drive in the rain yelling at each other with such hatred. But the memory that tugged at her most was the day she left. She was 18 and so sure of herself as she stalked down the drive, around the bend and out of sight of this house, this town, and everything it held. But twenty three years ages a person. It grants wisdom and failure in equal measure. Jenny knew, wisely, that her return was not failure. But she also knew her return was not welcomed either. And so, as she committed that second foot to the drive, she resolved that this time, she would not walk away until all her demons were confronted and all issues resolved. She was home, at last.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Write About A Stranger At A Crossroads
Ok, we are franticly packing to get out of town. Gotta get rid of this dog who is losing her mind right now. I swear she freaks every time we pull out the suitcases. Also trying to pack everything needed by two kids who are totally useless in the whole process. Ever seven minutes they appear with yet another large stuffed animal they just cannot live without. The whole time I am eyeing the clock watching our planned departure time come and go. It's a race against the clock that I just can't seem to win.
So, in an attempt to keep my sanity, I will be saving this prompt until my return! Have a great weekend guys....
So, in an attempt to keep my sanity, I will be saving this prompt until my return! Have a great weekend guys....
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
The Smell of Air in Winter
"Look Mommy! I can blow smoke!" my daughter called out gleefully, puffing great cloud of condensation into the cold air. I smiled down at her upturned face. Her cheeks were pink and her nose red with cold but she didn't seem to mind. Her small hand was slipped in mind and I gave it a squeeze. Enthralled with this new development, she slipped my grasp and ran ahead, puffs of smoke billowing behind her.
Even though the sun was shining, it was definitely winter. The sky was a sharp blue that bounced light off the frozen dew of the grass. I took a deep breath and felt the cold frozen air singe my lungs. The air smelled crisp and spicy. Following my daughter's lead, I watched as my exhale made a cloud of wispy white. I vaguely knew the mechanics of it all. Warm air full of water particles hits the cold outside and contracts, dispersing water particles or some such reasoning. I shook my head and smiled to myself. The technical aspect was so dry and boring. Much easier to believe that I was....part dragon.
"Mellie!" I cried and caught up with the huffing little girl in front of me. "Do you know why you can blow smoke?" I asked her.
"No mommy." Her face scrunched up in thought. "Why?"
"Well, it's because your great great great grandmother was part dragon. She was a snow dragon you see. So on very cold winter days, our dragon blood wakes up and we can puff smoke just like she did," I explained very seriously into a set of wide, delighted brown eyes.
"Ohhhhh," she whispered, a stream of smoke floating from her lips. I watched as her forehead creased and she asked me, "Why was she part dragon?"
"Hmmm, well, that's a long story. Here, give me your hand and I'll tell you the first part on our walk, ok? Long long ago, your great great great grandmother lived in Montana. Do you know where that is? No? Well, it's way up north and it gets very cold in winter. Kind of like today only much much colder..."
Even though the sun was shining, it was definitely winter. The sky was a sharp blue that bounced light off the frozen dew of the grass. I took a deep breath and felt the cold frozen air singe my lungs. The air smelled crisp and spicy. Following my daughter's lead, I watched as my exhale made a cloud of wispy white. I vaguely knew the mechanics of it all. Warm air full of water particles hits the cold outside and contracts, dispersing water particles or some such reasoning. I shook my head and smiled to myself. The technical aspect was so dry and boring. Much easier to believe that I was....part dragon.
"Mellie!" I cried and caught up with the huffing little girl in front of me. "Do you know why you can blow smoke?" I asked her.
"No mommy." Her face scrunched up in thought. "Why?"
"Well, it's because your great great great grandmother was part dragon. She was a snow dragon you see. So on very cold winter days, our dragon blood wakes up and we can puff smoke just like she did," I explained very seriously into a set of wide, delighted brown eyes.
"Ohhhhh," she whispered, a stream of smoke floating from her lips. I watched as her forehead creased and she asked me, "Why was she part dragon?"
"Hmmm, well, that's a long story. Here, give me your hand and I'll tell you the first part on our walk, ok? Long long ago, your great great great grandmother lived in Montana. Do you know where that is? No? Well, it's way up north and it gets very cold in winter. Kind of like today only much much colder..."
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