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garage

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cupcakes



Joined: 18 Sep 2005
Posts: 324
Location: NY
garage

ummm...here.
Embarassed
Random writing...hiding in a place not many people look.
how to you put things in italics?? for now (....) means italics



I jammed my thumb into the broken garage remote, but the fucking pulleys would not be provoked. So, my tight fist wrenched gear into P and I twisted off the ignition. The slamming of the door created waves of echo which bounced off my uncooperative garage door and was ultimately absorbed by the top of my decrepit blacktop. After much struggling, I managed to force the panels of weight up and above me. Metal scraped metal; pale chips of paint scattered like oily dandruff in my hair. I stood for half a minute to catch my breath. Meanwhile, I spoiled an industrious series of anthills lined up along the prominent fault-line in my driveway with the heel of my stiletto. I also spat a glob of phlegm two-inches in diameter on the crawly things. After the car was safely tucked into its cozy space, I spent another seven minutes manually closing the piece of shit door from the outside. I entered the empty house via front door. No one home.
The gray jacket was removed and tossed on the sofa-arm, briefcase tossed on the coffee table. Buttons came undone and my shirt was untucked. (Eh, what the hell, Spring’s been extra warm this year.) I stripped it all off, leaving a trail of blouse, skirt, stockings, shoe, pointy shoe… I pinched a highball off the shelf, my only clean glass in the house. I checked the fridge to see if anything edible had magically materialized while I was away. Uncooked spinach that had developed its own brown jelly syrup, bitter chocolate with a bite removed, shriveled unidentifiable organic mass, various empty jars once containing peanut-butter, mayo, and candied cherries, and fish flakes for Jane, my one-eyed fighter fish.
It was a good thing I’d gotten that cheap Merlot during my lunch hour. I slipped into the garage and the door swung shut behind me with a heavy bank vault sound. My bare toes stubbed themselves a couple times in the darkness until I could find the light bulb string. It was tight, but I managed to get the trunk unlocked and opened enough to extract the warm wine. I clicked back the position in the drivers seat for maximum comfort and let my feet dangle out the window that had been rolled down.
The wine was cheap and had a sour bite to it. Acid kissed acid in my empty stomach.
My exposed skin was sticking to the leather so I turned on the car and aimed the fans to myself.
I slipped my red wine and glanced around the tightly cluttered interior of the garage. So much junk; boxes that had never been opened when I moved here, a disassembled treadmill, a ladder, garden stuff, spiders, more garbage.
The alcohol was going fast. I’d half a bottle left. My fingertips felt hot. The fans were nice blowing air at my face and hair. The soft rumble of the car underneath me made me feel like a cradled baby and the humming was assuring. With my brain seeped in alcohol, I drained my glass. And I closed my eyes for a moment.

Post Thu Jan 19, 2006 1:39 pm 
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SWAY



Joined: 14 Apr 2005
Posts: 1560
Location: Upstate NY


CC,

Wow, this was a very well written story. I hope, however, that this isnt a true story....if you need to talk, I am here.

SWAY
_________________
Giving myself to others has made me jaded...

Post Wed Feb 01, 2006 12:41 pm 
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dRED1



Joined: 22 Feb 2006
Posts: 836
Location: Lost in the sea of souls .... South Pacific


Cupcake,

A tantalizing read which left the reader wanting more.... I hope you'll soon get the chance to continue the story.

Hugs,
Gel
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me o tojite sono hohoemi ni fureta - - G.Camui-Sama
~I closed my eyes and touched that smile~

Post Thu Mar 16, 2006 11:29 am 
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ghost



Joined: 06 Nov 2005
Posts: 2828
Location: MIA


and then? cc, you stuck this one so far away, i think you forgot about it.

just curious....

regards
ghost
_________________
MIA

Post Thu Apr 13, 2006 5:31 pm 
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cupcakes



Joined: 18 Sep 2005
Posts: 324
Location: NY


oopsy, I did forget about these stories...
thanx for the replies and encouragement sway, ravenhairedgal, and ghosty.

it's hard to continue a story where the main character has just died, so here's another piece of writing. Perhaps this piece could happen at some point before the other chunk.

I hope to use this as opening to a novel.

<3 Cuppy











A young man sits in a café. It is raining aggressively outside the shop window. His silhouette is visibly sharpened, his features dramatized, by the yellow overhanging lamp that hovers like a showerhead. It is four pm and the sky is overcast, the cobble stones shining eerie blue. Water pelts the sidewalks loudly, with a furiousity and intensity that, bubbles like boiling water, hums like the zmmmm of an electric wire fence. The young man rubs his beard and stirs another packet of brown sugar into his coffee, black.

A young lady in a dark green trench coat and slick black stilettos, clicks calmly along the cobblestone way. Water from excited puddles bounce up against her exposed ankles. The relentless rain crashes on to the feminine figure as she weaves in and out of shadows: unhurried, umbrellaless, welcoming the wine-drops from the sky to bathe her hair. Long strains stick to her forehead and clings about her ears. She blinks her crystal, blue eyes the color of tropical waters; long lashes touch together for a slow instant like a warm, soft, close-mouthed kiss.

The young man looks up as a small Christmas bell tinkles above the café door. A roar of pitter-patters fill the room, a splash of cold, outside wind follows the woman only to dissolve the instant the door closes, sealing in the coffee aroma like a sauna. The young man lifts a cigarette to his mouth and nods in greeting. You’re half an hour late. He exhales and sets the stog on an astray with two other stubs. Let me help you with your coat.

Water dribbles down the length of her eyebrows. Over and around them like some long curved playground slide. What was so urgent you needed to tell me? She catches the attention of a teenage waitress with boney shoulders and an apron tight around her small waist. She gazes straight into the girl’s face. Quietly. Tea, lemon, honey, no milk. The girl disappears, cheeks slightly flushed and vapor gathering on her glasses.

The young man leans back in his chair, stirring what’s left of his coffee. He watches the lady pick up his cigarette and begin to drag at it like she’s always owned it. I have a proposition for you. He reaches into his breast pocket for another cig. The lady waits as he lights up and glances out the window at a couple of sweethearts running to their car, trying to escape the storm. After a long pause he speaks. Do you want to be brothers?

The lady flicks a lingering drip from her chin in a graceful movement of her wrist and fingers as a girl sits saucer and steaming cup on the table.

You don’t have to answer right away. He sips his coffee.

She breathes in the steam like she’s tasting it through her nose. I don’t understand.

He moves in closer under the lamplight as if whispering a secret not to be heard outside the ring of yellow spotlight. He touches the clef of his chin as if that is significant to the materialization of an explanation. As far as I know, you don’t get on well with your brother. Pause. My sister isn’t coming back. He finishes off the last of the coffee in a long swallow.

The young lady presses her bottom lip into the rim of the cup and blows a cool stream of air over the smooth surface of tea. Small ripples dance in radiating waves.

So I was thinking we could be brother/sister. So our children can have cousins, and aunts, and uncles.

The lady looks up from her water ballet and into the visage of her companion. Curls of cigarette smoke swirl around his face, tracing, mimicking the chestnut brown curls in his natural hair.

We could have Thanksgiving dinner together. He taps the ash off the tip of his cig.

You want me to be the godmother of your future children? She takes a taste; Her expression doesn’t change.

The young man cracks a crooked smirk. I’m an atheist; you’re a Jew. You can’t be my child’s godmother.

She nods in agreement.

It’s more than that. It’s not just about children.

She has another sip. I know.

There is a comfortable silence as they rain appears to slow into a dense drizzle. The fat juicy plops thin into mist.

She shifts and sits back leisurely in her chair. So now I have a brother.
He bobs his head ever so slightly, barely noticeable. And now I have a sister.

Post Fri Sep 01, 2006 11:54 am 
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