TheMOS: The Past.

 “I hate looking back on old photos. In fact, I stay away from them as much as possible.” 

She announced, her eyes were hard with defiance and an immature flame of anger.

“Really? Why?” He asked, flicking a cookie crumb off his sweater.

“They’re stupid, they’re just embarrassing. I think living for the future is living now. Plus, my old self isn’t even me, people say I wasn’t that bad but trust me, it was really bad.” She had a tinge of bitter laughter in her voice as she lifted her wine glass to her lips.

“Well didn’t that sound like a journalist’s answer. How about for real? Aside from your work, there’s really nothing except embarrassment in your old family photo albums and home videos?”

“Yeah.  Plus, if you think about it, if anyone ever finds those old things, think of what it could do to my social life!”

“I’m sure your other friends were just as self-assured and blissfully rebellious as you were in eighth grade.”

“No, I’ve seen their pasts. They all had great childhoods.” She exhaled and then looked him straight in the eyes.

“So-” She started.

“Are-” He paused and then continued.

“Are you ever tempted to look at them-?”

“No.”

“I wasn’t done.”

“Oh?” She said lightly and took another sip.

“Don’t you ever just want to peek? just to see how far you’ve come? To me, that’s what those old memories are for. They’re for living happily in the now and feeling good about your future. If you could be the person you are now with that past, who knows what you could be another fifteen years from now?” Her face changed, her hard brows expanded and the stress in her jaw relaxed a fraction. 

He knew she was still annoyed, still running and definitely still fighting to be right.

 But he could see, she knew, they both were aware that he had gotten dangerously close to convincing her that she was okay. Close, but no cigar.

She swept her hair off one shoulder and threw him a look across the table,

“Well then, maybe you should be the one writing for the papers.” She smiled a bit, and set the empty wine glass down on the table with a faint clink. 

dh

TheMOS: PLUGGED IN

A bedroom door creaks open, light washes through the dusky room aiding the small desk lamp that’s lit in the corner on the desk where books are piled high. A girl sits hunched over and inches away from her textbook and phone which are sitting side by side on the cleared space on the desk. The light from the screen illuminates her face in a sickly blue wash, her twisted head phones entwined and connected to the device like some alien umbilical cord.  

“So I talked to Chris about his sister today.” The girl announces who just walked in. The other girl removes the head phones but not taking her eyes off the screen. The gadget blinks and notifies her of another reply.

“Hmm…?” She answers back to the girl standing there.

“You know Chris’ sister was in the hospital earlier this week for attempted suicide, right? I know I told you about it.” The other girl walks to the bed and sits down on the edge, leaning forward on her knees.

“Oh, wow, yeah. Now I remember…” Blinks, rubs eyes.

Silence.

“Don’t you want to know how she’s doing?”

Silence.

“Yeah, sure.” The screen blinks again, this time vibrating the papers beneath it a little. This time it’s a photo notification.

“She’s okay. She’s stable and everything. The doctors want her to go to rehab or something for a while.”

Silence.

“Chris doesn’t want her to go to rehab because it’d mean she would be moving for a while.  Honestly, I agree that isolation like that would not be a good idea for her in this situation. Don’t you?”

“Sorry, what?”

“Aleah, Chris’ adopted sister, she shouldn’t go to rehab.”

“Why not?”
“Ugh…you don’t even try… do you even care?”

“Yeah I do! And what do you mean I don’t care? I do care.”

“Then why didn’t you respond when I told you about her going to rehab?”

“Who? For what?”

“Aleah Carpenter, my ex’s adopted sister who I used to be really close with and we got along really well. That girl.”

“Sorry! I just forgot for a second. Gosh, you’re so temperamental…”

“Sorry! Maybe you should get off that stupid phone one of these days and actually listen to people. I guess it’s not like you’re obligated care about Chris’ sister anyways, even if she did just try and murder herself.”

“I’m sorry okay! I’m just really stressed with school right now, the texts were from my professor.”

“Oh, so you’re just too busy right now?”

“Yeah-”

“Great! Fine...”

“Hey, that’s not what I meant.”

“Wasn’t it? Anyways I’m leaving now. You can study in peace.”

-dh

TheMOS: Peace/comfort.

He lie awake in bed, one hand loosely tangled in her hair and the sound of the ceiling fan whirring lulling everything into reflective thinking and memories. He was thinking of what he missed the most back home at that moment, thinking of home and thinking of peace, quiet. Comfort.  

One thing was for sure: his comfort was vastly different from hers. He was tall, broad shouldered and well built. He was often the one whom people went to for their own comfort and ease. He was friendly and huggable. But He had a very different sense of when things were the most comfortable to him, the most familiar and most safe of all places on earth. She loved bookstores, fresh sheets and overstuffed furniture which made her feel cozy and safe inside and out. Small things ensured her own personal peace in an instant. But for him, he only had one thing that really settled him. 

That place was the dock at Morrow Cliffs, by the sea and a few miles away from the closest market. The dock went as far as a mile out to sea, worn by the wind and salt but sturdy and old and craggy as an old fisherman. The bolts in the wood were rusted and crusted over with grime and the lamps along the way were dim and foggy. The dock was almost always empty and that’s why he loved it so much. To him, solace was found simply in being alone, with only one way back to the shore and the wide open sea at his back.

He had nowhere to run but he had the choice, at least, to go back.

Go back, walk the two and a half miles to that market and get a drink and maybe a sandwich. It was all simplified; there at the dock. Life was distilled into that one choice.  And that made him feel at peace more than anything.  

TheMOS: REGRET

The light above us was dim and amber yellow, throwing tall greenish shadows against the tiled walls of the kitchen and making the room feel very empty. Nights like these were not rare, they were in fact a regular thing we enjoyed now. Sitting quietly, sometimes talking, with lukewarm coffee mugs in our tired hands and resting our elbows on the dining room table. The moon was high in the velvety blackness outside before she said anything. Then her quiet, emotional voice broke the silence:

"When we had gone our separate ways I realized I had never had any intention of listening to him as a partner, a lover or a friend in any long term effect. The whole time we were together we didn't listen to the opposite’s heart or mind."

"How did you stay together then?" I asked.

"We had been very open, we shared a lot." She said frankly, her hazel eyes thoughtful. But her eyebrows were drawn together as she continued,

"But despite that, we couldn't stay together in the end. It was too much and we seemed to be okay with that by the end. We had dated for three years..."

"What a waste of your precious time." I said with a look I hoped she'd interpret as sympathetic. 

"No," She responded quickly, "I'd say it was more like a huge waste of an opportunity."

"Opportunity for what?"

" For both of us to grow up. If we had only stopped for a few seconds to think of how we could benefit the other, I think we would still be together." The tone of regret was deep in her voice as she said the last few words. She sipped her cold coffee and sighed.

"We'd better get some sleep..."

Series Kick-off: THE MEMOIRS OF STRANGERS

All of the next few posts are about fictional people and fictional circumstances that I've thought often about or have had randomly pop into my head and written down. I strive for realism and lifelike description in this series so it may come out sounding quite bland but I hope you guys enjoy it anyways!

-dh

Scenery.

“Mind if I join you?”

It was Drew, Melanie knew his voice well.

“No, I was actually about to come in to find some company!” she replied, squinting in his direction. She knew it was sunny out, the sun was warming her bare back cozily. Straightening her sundress and cane across her lap she made room for him.

“I don't see why everyone is locked up in their bedrooms to study,” She began, voice crisp and matter-of-fact.

“ I mean, you have the great outdoors to sit and think in,” she added as they settled down, Drew’s foot swinging them.

“Ha! We don’t have the time to think, like you can… “ he sighed and then after a slight pause and seeing the puzzled look on Melanie’s face, quickly added,

“I didn’t mean that to sound mocking I was just pointing out that you have more opportunity to think more than others.”

“Hmmm… Actually, I do have homework I’m supposed to be working on. I mean, I know I ought to be tremendously thankful for braille but sometimes it’s just so tedious!” she cried, throwing her hands up to emphasize her feelings.

“Yeah, same… like, sometimes I get really pissed at whoever invented Calculus...” Drew cast Melanie a sideways glance, she was looking straight ahead, and the sun was making her natural blond highlights stand out radiantly.

“Looks like we’re both on the same page then” she said, tapping her cane idly against the wood of the swing. There was a small pause in which the sounds of cheery birds and the humming of bees filled the space in between them and around them.

“I was just thinking the other day,” Drew began, staring at his knees, “and realized you know this house and these people, better than anyone.”

Melanie heard the scuff of his shoe against the brick beneath them and felt a twitch at the corner of her mouth. He seemed nervous…

“May I ask why you were thinking of me in particular?”

“I was thinking of Fred first, actually-” Drew said with a laugh, “The way he’s always gushing his thoughts to everyone and the way he forgets where everything is… How clumsy he is compared to you.” He turned slightly to watch her expression; Melanie’s smile lessened and she gravely said,

“Even if I am blind, it doesn’t exactly make me any more… glorified, for want of a better word, knowing my way about here,” she waved a hand vaguely toward the large barn to their right and the fields beyond.

“I guess so… but it’s just so hard for me to imagine, not being able to see but understand everything so well, like you do.”

“Trust me, if we switched places, I’m sure you be just as good as me if not better.” She laughed and fidgeted with her cane’s head. It was polished brass in the elegant shape of an upside down bluebell. There was another pause in conversation and then Melanie said, abruptly,

“Well, would you mind walking me back to the garden? I think I’d like a change of scenery.”

“Sure.” Drew said and even though Melanie had no idea, felt an amused and amazed smile spread over his face…  

Glitter Dust.

Jack was used to the rain. He was always outdoors and the city never saw the sun. It was always stormy in the city, no sunlight and no warmth ever penetrated the place and the milk white skin of the people who lived there. Jack was a courier, he lived and breathed the water from the sky. He had learned all the deceptive ways of the mud and the tricks of the tavern owners throughout the city. Tall, sodden buildings sagged over the walkways which were forever flooded with garbage and human waste. Jack navigated the gutters as best he could but there seemed to be no escape from the floating bits of discarded food and clothing. There was always a glimmer of hope in the city that one day the weak sunlight might break through the fortresses of storm clouds in the sky above, but the day had never come, not in centuries. People were accustomed to the clothes never drying on soggy washing lines and everyone hardly slept. Beds were rarely filled and never dry and even the shelves in the bakery were warped by moisture. The tavern owners offered dry food and dry pillows but Jack knew better than to believe them. The boy had heard so many stories about how the city might have become so dismal. One tale said that the city had been cursed long ago by an aggravated rain goddess. Another folk tale said that the city had been known as the saddest place anyone had ever known, and so the rain was the tears of the gods being shed for the people living there. Jack did not know what to believe but he knew his job and so he worked hard in the city of rain. Until one morning in the middle of the dry season. Dry season was merely whenever the precipitation stopped, the roads still ran with water but at least the clouds weren't as black.

“Jack! Jack I need your help!”

“Freda?”

“Over this way!” A girl not much younger that Jack stood in an alleyway to his left and beckoned him with a dripping hand. Like all of the women of the city, she was clad in nothing but a few tightly wrapped rags and her body was shimmery with glitter. The city's permanent situation had forced long garments and carefully applied makeup out of women's minds, but the rain never seemed to get rid of glitter dust.

“Jack, can you help me with this barrel? It's too heavy and since the water on the ground is seeping through the cracks, it's making it even heavier.”

“Sure thing Freda. I like your gold dust today.” Jack smiled briefly and then bent to push the barrel further.

“What's in the barrel?” He asked after a few yards, curious why Freda would be toting such a heavy load to the market.

“Dust. I'm starting a new business in the square ahead.”

“I thought the dust market was doing poorly.” Jack grunted as he started the tank rolling again.

“It was, but this'll be the envy of all who see it. I found a way to make camouflage dust.”

“What!?” Jack stopped suddenly but Freda kept walking.

“You know, dust that makes you disappear into your surroundings. It's like the next best thing to dry bread!”

“Freda, you understand this has to be authorized right?”

“Author what?”

“You have to send in a request to sell this stuff. The mayor has to say 'Ok'.”

“ Could you ask her for me?”

Jack straightened.

“Freda! I can't just walk up to the mayor and ask her!”

“Why not?”

“Be-Because she's... well-” He faltered, “She's busy. All the time. You can't sell this merchandise without her say so.”

“What if I don't care?” Freda waved her arm around and the dull lamp light caught the gold glitter's sparkle.

“You could get arrested if you sell it without a permit. I'm not about to let you go to jail alone.”

“You really care that much?” Freda clasped her hands in mock appreciation. “I really could care less about going to jail, it'd be an adventure compared to this.” she gestured to a large piece of gunk floating past them in the gutter. Jack shivered out of disgust and turned his eyes to the grey sky. Turning back to Freda he saw her face change from a similar look of disgust to radiating mischievous light.

“Say, what if we go together then?” Jack eyed his friend. She was a pretty creature with the lithe shape of an athlete, a sign of living off her wits for some time. Jack knew her past but didn't judge her for it, although sometimes he had a hard time deciphering the truth from her stories.

“If you're going then I'm going.” He decided.

“What? You mean you want to get arrested with me?”

“As long as we're together it'll be fun, like you said.” Jack started, nervous but beginning to get excited about the idea.

“I'm tired of running from shack to shack with pay fit for a pack animal. I'll go to jail, sure. I bet it's dry!” A smile lit up Freda's gold streaked face and she put out a graceful hand.

“Then come on! Let's start selling this stuff!”  

dh

Beast.

Hey folks! This is a snippet of a story I've had going for some time. Hope you enjoy!

SIZZLE. CRASH.

I wake up to the sound of debris falling from some where. Everything smells like smoke and the carpet in front of me is charred to dust. Looking up,  the roof is on the verge of collapsing inward from a large puncture right above where the coffee table had been.

“Caleb?” a sandy sounding croak…

“Jade, are you okay?” I sound fine. My face and neck stings; my shirt is scorched. Then I blink in the dusty air, where’s Malcolm? The middle of the room is obliterated and there’s only a eight foot wide, one foot deep depression left.

“No… I think it’s my ankle... Where’s Mal?” Jade’s voice comes from near the entrance of the room; where the enormous framed tapestry had hung.

“I don’t know. I’ll look” I get up, balancing shortly on one knee; despite the dust in my eyes, I still see stars of dizziness. My heart sinks fast, the furniture that had sat in the middle of the room, the books, the coffee table, the couch, were nowhere to be seen. My trunk wasn’t there anymore either.

“Is he there?”

“No”

The finality of the actual words sting in my throat, but that’s what they are now, fatally so.

I help Jade up, only to carry her to the unscathed kitchen, her left ankle is totally twisted and awkward, toes are already turning purple. Probably completely fractured; that tapestry had to be at least twenty pounds, never mind the frame. Well that would definitely hurt.

“AH…” Jade sighs when I put her gently but without ceremony on the cleared kitchen table.

“Do you think he could be,” Jade stops, puts a hand to her throat and then points out the kitchen window.

“What?” I ask, and then I inhale sharply at the sight I behold when I turn.

“It’s still here.”

The dragon is poised in a regal stance; claws viciously sharp. You can see them all the way back here, at the house. The bright yellow amber eyes glint in the dawn, surrounded by blacker than night scales. Suddenly all I can think of is Malcolm. I surprise myself.

“Jade. You don’t think he took Malcolm, do you?”

“What?” Jade gasps, forgetting, it seems, about her pain. “And, who says it’s a he. It’s beautiful.”

“I mean, the roof... it's not disintegrated.” I start, breaking the reverent phrase still hanging in the air.

"If it wanted to finish him it would've burned this place to the ground!"

Jade shakes her curly head and then says,

“Caleb Sanders you’re the craziest Dragonologist ever! If you're seriously implying that that beast is interested in preserving us, you're mad. Let's find Malcolm."

We’re both quiet after that. The dragon outside shifts from claw to claw… Then it lifts its mighty head, opens its powerful jaws and belts out a column of flame that falls, like an ignited snake to the parched ground. The next second, the beast is gone. 

Inkling

Playing around with eyeliner and photo booth- I apologize for the terrible quality!

-dh-

Thanks/New Years

        Sorry about this outlandishly delayed post! I just recently watched Baz Lurhman's The Great Gatsby and its complete special features. Finally, inspiration! No plagiarism or stealing of ideas was meant if there is any of that in this post. I simply decided to write and this is what came out...

         Any party that I've ever attended has not been of my own volunteering. Every time I go out I make myself a fool or worse, embarrass someone else. I was not altogether thrilled when my nosey mother in-law phoned me halfway through dinner to urge me to attend a complete stranger's New Year's party. The year up to this cold night had been less than exciting for this cubicle dweller. 

Still, I protested. 

         The car was in the shop, it was alright she was on her way already, she could pick me up; I had nothing to wear, that was fine, she promised to help me when she got there. Nothing I said made a difference. It is in these circumstances that I find myself disgusted at my own being and wish that it wasn't so impossible to simply go and be with people. Besides, she whined, it was the start of a New Year which by the sound of it, was like a renewing of her commitment to get me 'socialized'. I had to cave. Just this once. 

The ride was pitiful. I squirmed in the stiff outline of the suit she'd brought me from Eric's extensive collection. Eric, my brother in-law and much more outgoing friend was always attending dinners and fancy meetings. He had an enormous drawer filled with strictly individual style ties and stuffy old bow-ties that confounded me to no end.  I swallowed and tried not to think of it. The car was making me feel giddy and nervous, as if my in-law's chatter about my host wasn't enough to put me on the edge. 

"He's famously rich you know," I cut in. 

"Listen, Dana…"

"-Great eye for things like decor and wonderful taste in wine…" I gave up and automatically tuned her out- thinking of nothing but the lead-like mashed potatoes that sat at the very bottom of my stomach. I rolled down my window, feeling ill at ease and woeful. Parties would be the death of me. 

"Now, we're coming up to the house now- don't forget to say hello and thank you, etcetera…." 

"Of course." I reassured her huge bushy red hair, I couldn't see her profile clearly because of it. 

"You know Jared, you worry me sometimes. You forget to have a good time."

"Thank you for your concern… I suppose" I mumbled.

"Come on now, before the sun comes up…" 

We struggled out of the car, I, feeling somewhat like a swimmer who's come up for air. The night was chilly and invisible ice crunched under my fancy, also borrowed, and devilishly cold shoes. The house was magnificent. Covered in multicolored lights the flat surfaced house stood tall and lumbering like a wave that might crash onto your head at any moment. The trim along the twelve windows looked like candy frosting and the double doors were painted electric blue. 

"Welcome, Mr. and Mrs.?" A man at the door wearing a tall party hat with 1982 wilting off the foam. 

"Keebler, we're not a couple." My mother in-law scooted past the man and I looked him up and down before remembering to say, 

"Thanks."

P.S The Great Gatsby really is a phenomenal piece of artwork, it is out on DVD and Blueray now. I highly recommend it!