Synopsis: City Heidi goes to the country to stay with her grandmother. She meets three brothers who live nearby. One by one, she corrupts, except the last one, who confronts her and makes her review her life thus far. She does not take it well and even turns against her own grandmother.
Heidi Wulfe thought about the world. It all seemed so unfair. So futile. She sat in the cold Baltimore rain on the bus stop bench. It was so cold, she'd give up shivering. The street lights flicked on in the gathering dusk. A few cars rattled down the pothole-ridden street. Where was that bus? She was supposed to stay with her grandmother. And now her suitcase was getting wet. She'd have to throw everything in the dryer once she got there, and hope that mildew hadn't taken hold. That was just be excellent, she thought sarcastically. Just what she needed.
A man in a black raincoat jogged down the slick sidewalk. Seeing her, he stopped. "You know the transit workers are on strike, right? No buses are running tonight."
"God, really?"
"Do you need a ride somewhere? I've got a friend running a hack tonight."
"No, I'm just sitting herein the rain with my suitcase because I feel like it." The man took in her bedraggled hair, streaming black into her face.
"Suit yourself. If you change your mind, he's parked down at the end of the block." Heidi said nothing, wishing him away. Great. A taxi. She would be out of money after that ride.
The man shrugged and walked away. Heidi waited until he was out of sight and the grabbed her suitcase and stood. That damn cab better still be there. She loped down the cracked pavement. There it was, just pulling away.
"Hey!" She flagged it down, stepping off the burn into a puddle in the process. The driver screeched to a stop and Heidi trotted over, wiping her face with a sleeve. "Can you take me to Welshire?"
The driver frowned dubiously. "That's a long drive."
"I can pay." Heidi flashed her wallet at him. He jerked his head.
"Get in. Your bad will have to sit with you - the trunk is jammed."
"Thanks." She yanked open the back door and clambered in, dripping a deluge of rainwater into the seat.
"You're getting my seat all wet!"
"What's it to you? You're not sitting back here."
The driver shrugged. "Half up front." Heidi handed him a twenty and sat back as the car cruised away from the curb.
The wipers beat a steady rhythm as they drove through the rain. Heidi thought about what she was leaving behind. Not much. A dungeon-like sixth-floor subsidized housing room with a cracked and barred window holding a rusty A/C unit. Peeling paint and stained carpet. A fitful stove that only sometimes worked, and a job that had just laid her off.
The good thing about taking a cab was that no one would search her bag and find the ounce of coke and other pills she'd tucked away. She leaned her head back against the seat, letting the street lights flash over her face.
She was looking forward to getting way. Her grandmother was a 'live and let live' type of person and didn't ask questions. And Heidi could use a few weeks in the country. It had been years since she'd seen a forest, or even a meadow for that matter. She wondered how it would all smell. She hoped there would be a decent tavern or at least a shitty dive bar in the nearby town, preferably within walking distance. She shifted off her red raincoat and set it to the side, settling down for the ride.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Monday, September 12, 2011
Hole in the Ground
"But if someone is coming toward us, I want to know so that I can go out to meet them. No hiding in a hole in the ground for me."
I looked at the man - a sturdy, solid piece of flesh. Thick black hair curled wildly around his olive face.
"I don't doubt that, Wilde," I replied. I turned, gesturing behind him. "But what of your wife and children? Would you have them ride out with you as well?"
"Of course not!" He seemed shocked that I would ask such a thing, and then understand sank in. "Alright. I see your point. We will make a safe point underground. For them." He glared toward his family, as if daring them to disagree. Mildrey turned her head to hide the smile tugging at her lips.
We walked inside the house. It was a good house, if a bit shabby, but the location was good. It was set on top of a hill, where nothing could approach without being seen. "Too many windows," said I, looking around in my professional capacity. "They're going to expect you to have a storage area, a place where you would think you would safe." I knocked on a few more walls, peering through doorways where the paint peeled off in long strips. "That's why we're going to turn these three rooms into your surface safe rooms."
"But they're part of the house! If the house burns, so will they."
"And that, my dear man, is why there will be a hidden trapdoor. A door leading into the ground, into a tunnel which leads to yonder cellar." I looked out of the window, toward said cellar. It was nothing more than a long oval tube sunk into the ground at this point, but it had definite possibility, aside from...
"That structure over it will need to be razed."
"Impossible. That's the water pump. If it rains, we'll need it to pump out the water so we don't drown."
"It's got 'cellar' written all over it in bold red letters. That's the first place anyone is going to look."
Wilde deflated.
"No worries. We'll raze it down immediately so that the grass has time to grow over the entryway." I chuckled inside at the big man's discomfort.
"You did want my services, did you not?"
I held out my hand. He hesitated, then shook it.
I looked at the man - a sturdy, solid piece of flesh. Thick black hair curled wildly around his olive face.
"I don't doubt that, Wilde," I replied. I turned, gesturing behind him. "But what of your wife and children? Would you have them ride out with you as well?"
"Of course not!" He seemed shocked that I would ask such a thing, and then understand sank in. "Alright. I see your point. We will make a safe point underground. For them." He glared toward his family, as if daring them to disagree. Mildrey turned her head to hide the smile tugging at her lips.
We walked inside the house. It was a good house, if a bit shabby, but the location was good. It was set on top of a hill, where nothing could approach without being seen. "Too many windows," said I, looking around in my professional capacity. "They're going to expect you to have a storage area, a place where you would think you would safe." I knocked on a few more walls, peering through doorways where the paint peeled off in long strips. "That's why we're going to turn these three rooms into your surface safe rooms."
"But they're part of the house! If the house burns, so will they."
"And that, my dear man, is why there will be a hidden trapdoor. A door leading into the ground, into a tunnel which leads to yonder cellar." I looked out of the window, toward said cellar. It was nothing more than a long oval tube sunk into the ground at this point, but it had definite possibility, aside from...
"That structure over it will need to be razed."
"Impossible. That's the water pump. If it rains, we'll need it to pump out the water so we don't drown."
"It's got 'cellar' written all over it in bold red letters. That's the first place anyone is going to look."
Wilde deflated.
"No worries. We'll raze it down immediately so that the grass has time to grow over the entryway." I chuckled inside at the big man's discomfort.
"You did want my services, did you not?"
I held out my hand. He hesitated, then shook it.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Muchness
"But I have lost my muchness," said Alice. "I can't be who you want me to be. I'm just not that same person anymore."
"Well, you'll get your muchness back, never fear."
"But how?"
"Give it time, and everyday so something you don't think you can do. When you do those impossible things so often, you will stop doubting yourself, and your muchness will have returned."
Where Am I?
At home on Sunday night. Drank a lot last night, lost my credit card, had a difficult conversation involving the futility of life and my inability to invest anything in people. Been recovering all day. Read some, napped some, played some Age of Empires. Kind of down.
"Well, you'll get your muchness back, never fear."
"But how?"
"Give it time, and everyday so something you don't think you can do. When you do those impossible things so often, you will stop doubting yourself, and your muchness will have returned."
Where Am I?
At home on Sunday night. Drank a lot last night, lost my credit card, had a difficult conversation involving the futility of life and my inability to invest anything in people. Been recovering all day. Read some, napped some, played some Age of Empires. Kind of down.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Waiting For The Bus
September 8, 2011
Where Am I?
Home from work
Feeling: Tired but Ready to go Out (BassNectar concert) (yes, it's Thursday) (yes, I'm going to work tomorrow)
Doing: cooking spaghetti & doing mani/pedi
Listening to: Alphabetically from Swedish Mafia, System of a Down and now T-pain & Tatu
Story Byte:
Well, the last byte was from a story that I'd previously been working on, and I really feel like I don't need more story ideas, more than I need will-power to sit down and review my archived ideas and already-started stories.
Remember The Manse? Well, I updated it and made it so that the ending makes more sense and flows better. It really needed that. Haven't posted it yet though. I may see about getting it published again, or entering it into a contest. But this is really considered writing is it... it's just updating. Let's see here....
The snow drove down in big white clumps only to land on the frozen ground in front of the relentless snowplow, which shoved the new flakes into hard packed gray ridges by the side of the road. Bree stood aside to let the dutiful machine pass. Shrugging her backpack up higher, she wished, not for the first time, that the school would put their textbooks on the Kindle. Oh well, at least it was a workout while waiting for the bus to arrive. Across the road, old Mrs. Shriver shuffled by with her tennis-footed walker. I can't believe she's out here in the ice and snow with only those old moccasins and a shawl. A junior-high sized boy skated by, zig-zagging on the sidewalk to miss the old lady. His board promptly flipped, landing him in the freshly plowed snow. He shot a dirty glance toward the oblivious elder, dusted himself and took off again.
Where Am I?
Home from work
Feeling: Tired but Ready to go Out (BassNectar concert) (yes, it's Thursday) (yes, I'm going to work tomorrow)
Doing: cooking spaghetti & doing mani/pedi
Listening to: Alphabetically from Swedish Mafia, System of a Down and now T-pain & Tatu
Story Byte:
Well, the last byte was from a story that I'd previously been working on, and I really feel like I don't need more story ideas, more than I need will-power to sit down and review my archived ideas and already-started stories.
Remember The Manse? Well, I updated it and made it so that the ending makes more sense and flows better. It really needed that. Haven't posted it yet though. I may see about getting it published again, or entering it into a contest. But this is really considered writing is it... it's just updating. Let's see here....
The snow drove down in big white clumps only to land on the frozen ground in front of the relentless snowplow, which shoved the new flakes into hard packed gray ridges by the side of the road. Bree stood aside to let the dutiful machine pass. Shrugging her backpack up higher, she wished, not for the first time, that the school would put their textbooks on the Kindle. Oh well, at least it was a workout while waiting for the bus to arrive. Across the road, old Mrs. Shriver shuffled by with her tennis-footed walker. I can't believe she's out here in the ice and snow with only those old moccasins and a shawl. A junior-high sized boy skated by, zig-zagging on the sidewalk to miss the old lady. His board promptly flipped, landing him in the freshly plowed snow. He shot a dirty glance toward the oblivious elder, dusted himself and took off again.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Lake Scene
September 7, 2011
Where Am I?
PC Table in Studio
Feeling: Energized (thx, yoga)
Also, dehydrated.
More settled in mind, but still a bit uncertain.
STORY BYTE
Lake Scene
The emerald lake bubbled and frothed like a great muddy cauldron set atop a giants' fire. Rhies set up camp on its eastern shore, choosing a thick ash tree to recline against. The axe-girl, whatever her name was, devoured her share of the food, a roasted pigeon, then silently unwound her bedroll, lay down and immediately fell asleep, one hand resting on the leather-bound handle her of ever present weapon.
Rhies was left with first watch. At first, he grumbled a bit to himself, irritated that she hasn't asked his preference, but then he realized that actually preferred the first watch, as he wasn't sleepy after all the excitement of the day. An owl hooted in the forest, a quiet whoosh of its wings as it glided by through the dark tree-tops.
Rhies had always liked the evenings, that time of day when one part of the world slowed down, grinding to a halt, leaving a bare moment of utter silence before the night world fully awoke. Under the majestic ash, his mind meandered through its thoughts. He wondered if his master had missed him yet. Of course he had. He would be looking for those ribbons for his daughter's name-day. Once he found Rhies missing, well, Rhies really wasn't sure what he would do. Either say 'good riddance to bad rubbish' or rise with anger and set out the hounds. The hounds didn't worry Rhies too much - he'd hand-fed them too many scraps of food to feel threatened by them, and anyway, he figured they were far enough away by now to have made good his escape.
Where Am I?
PC Table in Studio
Feeling: Energized (thx, yoga)
Also, dehydrated.
More settled in mind, but still a bit uncertain.
STORY BYTE
Lake Scene
The emerald lake bubbled and frothed like a great muddy cauldron set atop a giants' fire. Rhies set up camp on its eastern shore, choosing a thick ash tree to recline against. The axe-girl, whatever her name was, devoured her share of the food, a roasted pigeon, then silently unwound her bedroll, lay down and immediately fell asleep, one hand resting on the leather-bound handle her of ever present weapon.
Rhies was left with first watch. At first, he grumbled a bit to himself, irritated that she hasn't asked his preference, but then he realized that actually preferred the first watch, as he wasn't sleepy after all the excitement of the day. An owl hooted in the forest, a quiet whoosh of its wings as it glided by through the dark tree-tops.
Rhies had always liked the evenings, that time of day when one part of the world slowed down, grinding to a halt, leaving a bare moment of utter silence before the night world fully awoke. Under the majestic ash, his mind meandered through its thoughts. He wondered if his master had missed him yet. Of course he had. He would be looking for those ribbons for his daughter's name-day. Once he found Rhies missing, well, Rhies really wasn't sure what he would do. Either say 'good riddance to bad rubbish' or rise with anger and set out the hounds. The hounds didn't worry Rhies too much - he'd hand-fed them too many scraps of food to feel threatened by them, and anyway, he figured they were far enough away by now to have made good his escape.
Rusty
September 6, 2011
I'm a bit rusty at the moment, and to be honest, really wasn't trying to write well; just free-flow. Also, this all took place on an empty sheet of scrap paper, typed across the top with "This page is being printed to RESET the printer. Please recycle it." So I am.
Where Am I?
FREE-FLOW
Feeling twisted and torn,
feeling so old and worn.
lovesick sounds so cliche
I know... and yet...
why can't I just follow my head?
It speaks such good reason.
A heart causes trouble and hurt
A head - so much cooler.
Classic struggle, twixt the two.
thought I'd never had to deal with that.
Now I'm 26 and all alone,
because my head says yes but my heart is torn.
Thought I was through with poetry...
true, this doesn't really count.
I hate not knowing what to do...
hate knowing, yet not wanting to do it....
Am I throwing good away?
STORY BITE:
Nada. Too mixed up with other things. That should not be an excuse, I realize.
"END OF PAGE"
I'm a bit rusty at the moment, and to be honest, really wasn't trying to write well; just free-flow. Also, this all took place on an empty sheet of scrap paper, typed across the top with "This page is being printed to RESET the printer. Please recycle it." So I am.
Where Am I?
- Studio in PHX
- Depressed
- Boring job
- 2 awesome kitties
- tight budget
- malcontent
- Sad & Confused
FREE-FLOW
Feeling twisted and torn,
feeling so old and worn.
lovesick sounds so cliche
I know... and yet...
why can't I just follow my head?
It speaks such good reason.
A heart causes trouble and hurt
A head - so much cooler.
Classic struggle, twixt the two.
thought I'd never had to deal with that.
Now I'm 26 and all alone,
because my head says yes but my heart is torn.
Thought I was through with poetry...
true, this doesn't really count.
I hate not knowing what to do...
hate knowing, yet not wanting to do it....
Am I throwing good away?
STORY BITE:
Nada. Too mixed up with other things. That should not be an excuse, I realize.
"END OF PAGE"
What This Is All About
I struggle with writing. That is, making myself sit down and write. This blog is one way to fulfill my on-again goal of writing something every day. I've got one day down (yesterday), and after I post that up, will work on today's.
Maybe I'll turn it into a pre-requisite for bedtime. Because I do love to sleep.
Hold onto your hats, ladies and gentlemen... prepare to visit many places!
Maybe I'll turn it into a pre-requisite for bedtime. Because I do love to sleep.
Hold onto your hats, ladies and gentlemen... prepare to visit many places!
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