Showing posts with label Ninety. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ninety. Show all posts

Friday, April 17, 2009

When the ship has sailed

Prompt: Include this line somewhere in your story: “I’m never doing that again.”


Anita let the stinging needles of the hot shower force their way onto her skin, hoping it would bring some sort of sensation back into her exhausted body. Tired beyond words, where the days tumbled into one another; she wondered for the fiftieth time if she had done the right thing.

Kurt has kept her up again last night, sometimes crying for no reason, other times just seeking her reassurance, her warmth and only whey she wrapped her arms around him that he settled and slept.

She luxuriated in the moment of drying herself with one of her overlarge fluffy towels before creeping into the bedroom. Anita bent over his sleeping form and brushed he soft blond curl away from his forehead and noticed a small cut on his face. She flushed immediately feeling guilty that it may have been one of her rings which had scratched his perfect face and checked the length of her fingernails as well. She patted the cute sailor suit folded neatly on her dresser and looked forward to seeing it on him again; perhaps later today when he awoke.

Kurt stirred in his slumber and gurgled, a small bubble forming at his lips. Anita giggled quietly and moved the soft blanket over his shoulders before sneaking out.

She knew she aught to sleep while he did, but sighed looking across her small unit with the piled washing up, the ironing basket overflowing and mail on the table unopened. Shaking the sleep out of her head, she set about in her attempt to bring order back into her normally organized life. Everything had run so smoothly before Kurts arrival. “He’d only been here for less than a week”, she mused, “what’s it going to be like down the track? Will my life come back to some sort of normality?”

A murmur from the bedroom caused a unbidden wave of love sweep over her and Anita was forced to steal another glance into the bedroom. She squeezed herself and wondered if everyone felt like this; exhausted but elated and a sense of achievement at what she had done, of what she had in that bedroom.

Realizing that the housework would not do itself, she turned towards the kitchen, set on tidying that up at least before the gaggle of her girlfriends crammed into the small lounge, desperate to see Kurt.

With her arms elbow deep in suds she jolted momentarily when strong warm hands crept around her waist and he began to nuzzle her neck. Her head fell back onto his chest as her senses clouded with his masculine smell. She could feel the muscles in his torso as he pressed up against her and she shuddered involuntarily.

“I’ve got to go Anita.”

“Go?”
“You knew this was coming. My liberty pass expires in a few hours.”
“But the ship doesn’t leave till Sunday.”
“I still have my shifts and duties.”

Her shoulders slumped. Kurt ran his hands up her arms and began gently massaging the knots in her back.

“You’re a sweet girl Anita. You deserve better than this.”
“What, better than you?”
“You knew this wasn’t going to last. Get yourself a real boyfriend. Stop selling yourself short.”
“So its alright for you to pick up in every port, but wrong for someone like me to?” She could hardly keep the poison from her voice.

His hands stopped rubbing her back.

“I’m just saying, you deserve better. Another city, another country and other time.. maybe.”
“Yeah.. maybe.”

Anita wriggled her back and shoulders throwing off his hands.
“Your uniform is washed and ironed. Its on my dresser.”

She savoured his hot lips as he kissed her on the neck.

Anita continued to wash the dishes, not turning when she heard the front door close.

“You’re right Kurt.” She whispered softly, the tears now allowed to fall freely. “I am never doing that again.”

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

Ghosts from the Cantina

Musical Musings #9


story written in response or inspired by listening to:


Honesty
by Billy Joel.


Take one of your existing characters and have them reflect honestly on something that they are not proud of in their lives. Are the willing to say 'sorry' for what they have done or is it too late? Does your character write a letter, make a phone call or is it simply being honest with themselves that is important.?


Anita busied herself tidying the lounge room for the fifteenth time. She nervously plumped the pillows and picked invisible fluff from the carpet. It was over five years since she and Clarissa has seen each other and it was important to her that her home was a glowing example of how far she had come, how she had changed.


She had specially arranged a photo album with shots of the younger friends together, stubs from shows and pamphlets from bands they had seen beer coasters with scribbled notes and dares, stubs of cigarettes they had shared with now famous people. It was all there, painstakingly collated into its historical memorabilia glory. A gift, a truce, a bridge.


Anita straightened a photo which jutted slightly out of the pages and then flicked the pages over to it. Two couples squeezed into a booth at a Mexican Cantina, now long gone – that arcade fallen victim to the city developers. She smiled and touched the faces gently. Cameron, one of many boyfriends Anita had had in those days, sat in stony silence with a puzzled ,bemused look on his face. She was there holding a wine glass aloft - laughing, She was drunk and stoned and hardly kept it together that night. Clarissa watched Anita with a undisguised disgusted look, embarrassed at her best friends behaviour. Quinn, her new date and the man she eventually married was staring off at something past the camera, disinterested in capturing history. Anita sniffed remembering Quinn flirting with the waitress that night.


Blushing hotly, Anita poked the photo back into place and sat down on the leather lounge. Nearly twenty years on and that night haunted her. Every moment replayed in her mind. If only she had made different choices that afternoon or even during the evening. Anita blamed that evening as the first destructive chink in the friendship between Clarissa and herself. She was certain it was the beginning of Quinns wandering eye. It defiantly summed up her destructive nature, self sabotaging a really lovely relationship with the first decent boyfriend she had had. In one foul evening, she had dragged her credibility as a friend and prospect as a proper girlfriend or even wife to an all time low.


For the hundredth time in the last few months, she wondered how Cameron was and hoped that he had found someone who deserved his love. It was too late to look for him, to ask for some sort of closure or forgiveness; so Anita had never even tried searching for him. He had worshiped the ground Anita had walked on, allowing her to be sexually aggressive and experimental. His quiet, loving nature a stark contrast to her wild, flamboyant will. For the hundred thousandth time since that night, Anita questioned why she allowed herself to destroy the fragile façade she had constructed for him, why she bothered to build it in the first place, why she lost sleep worried about him twenty years on.


She touched the photo again and remembered the events leading up to the shot being taken. Excited about the first double date she had been on, Anita began to get ready for the big evening many hours beforehand. Clarissa and Quinn had been an item for a nearly a year and things were getting serious between them. Anita had lost touch with them in this time – as new couples and friends often do, and was delighted when she got the call to suggest a double date to introduce her first significant boyfriend to them. Cameron was so different to any of the others Anita had slept with before. He had been besotted with her from the beginning and she had started returning his quiet flirting as a dare and game, initially completely disinterested in him. However, as she came to know him, she discovered a quick witt and quiet confidence which gave her flighty nature stability and security. She pushed his boundaries with every glance. She made him wait a week of ‘proper’ dating before she slept with him ( in direct contrast to sleeping with a guy on the first and usually last date). Anita was still unsure if she ever actually loved him; but perhaps because she was so devastated when they broke up, it was too late to realize she had.


Anita had been nervous about the double date and tried on every outfit she had, wanting the perfect one to impress both Clarissa, but Cameron as well. Her usual bottle of rum sat beside her bedside table, so she filled a plastic tumbler and knocked it back quickly. A plastic packet of marijuana leaf tips lay on her desk, dropped off by one of her friends earlier that day. It was meant to be weighed and divided for distribution at the party on the weekend. However, it was a new batch and Anita reasoned that she aught to try it to make sure of its quality. There was still a few hours before Clarissa was coming over to pick her up, so plenty of time to come down from her high and ready to eat up big at the Cantina.


It came so easily, swigging on the rum, drawing back on the spliff; alone. She felt at peace and powerful. Anita shook the memories from her head. Still so raw. She blushed again. Who would ever suspect this upstanding citizen, mother and community volunteer ever came from this?


The night hadn’t started well. Anita was unable to put makeup on herself as she was still drunk and very stoned when Clarissa arrived to pick her up. Although practiced in hiding her inebriated condition, Anita was in no state to leave the house, much less go on an important date. However, she forced herself into the cab with the concerned Clarissa and they drove into the city to meet up with their dates.


Flashes of sharp consciousness interspersed with coloured lights, slurred words and slow moving dialogue made up the evening. Anita remembered the photo being taken. Clarissa had suggested that she had already drunk enough and offered her water. Loud and laughing, Anita toasted the other couple and amorously paid close attention to her beau, who was delighted with the danger promised in her eyes. Clarissa begged Anita to take things easy. The meal came and went. Clarissa openly wept and visited the powder room a few times. Anita felt distanced from these events as if she were merely observing. Even through the drugged haze, she felt the uncomfortable under currents between the small party. Camerons puppy dog eyes and his ever faithful smile stalked Anita. She suffocated in his love. The more he drew her close, the more she stabbed his sensibilities. She drank until the rest of the evening blurred into nothingness.


Anitas doorbell rang. The ghosts from that night in the Cantina evaporated. Clarissa and Quinns marriage endured many years; through his indiscretions and wanderings, but in the end, the perfect couple divorced. The evening was never discussed or brought up again. The girls drifted apart, though kidded each other blaming work or distance. In Anitas heart, she knew she caused the rift; not only between the once inseparable friends, but between Quinn and Clarissa. After all these years, how could she say sorry?


Opening the door and seeing Clarissa, champagne in one hand and a box of handpicked chocolates in the other, Anita felt that perhaps both of them had some airing to do.

Thursday, January 31, 2008

Lost in Song

Friday Fiction


This Week’s Theme: Your character was lost in her own thoughts. When she snaps back to reality, she realizes she was singing out loud. Unfortunately, she wasn't somewhere private. How embarrassing...




Anita left the glowing comfort of the backyard makeshift campfire and stumbled into the darkness of the overgrown allotment. Confused and distraught at what she had just overheard, her feet propelled her automatically away from the light and laughter.

Earlier that night, Simon and Quinn had comfortably joined Clarissa and Anita; sitting cross legged on the grass at the party. Conversation had flowed easily as they had similar gripes and concerns with their studies at university. Anita knew Clarissa had been attracted to the tall, curly haired Quinn since they first shared a literature tutorial with him in first term; but for some reason, her usual bravado was absent whenever he was around. Simon was a frequent visitor at Anitas house; being good mates with one of her flat mates. These visits had given her a lot of time to sit next to him, join in on drunken conversations, feeling part of the comradery. Simon treated her with the same easy going familiarity afforded to her flatmate and the other two blokes who treated her house like a second home. Anita felt that delicious edge of uncertainty and sexual tension everytime he was close and was now sure his frequent visits had little to do with visiting her flatmate.

Clarissa and Anita finished their drinks in unison and in an unspoken command got up together to refill; glancing behind them at the boys with secret smiles of promise. Clarissa sauntered towards the bathroom and shrugged at Anita as she discovered the line up. Anita wordlessly walked back to the darkened grassy patch where they had left the boys. Amused at overhearing them planning their next moves on the girls, she stood in a shadow to listen further.

“Sure that Clarissa is a fox, but how are we going to shake that dog? Woof!” Smirked Quinn.
“Huh” grunted Simon, “I’ve seen Anita naked – well nearly and that aint a pretty sight – so fat. Really disgusting.”
Anita started in shock knowing that statement was completely untrue.
The boys both laughed and saluted each others prowess with women and upon spying Clarrisa approaching them, cheered even more.

Anita quickly looked down at her size 14 body and a tear slid down her cheek. In direct contrast to Clarissas exotic size 6 physique, Anita knew she would never be able to compete, but she prided herself with her long locks and bohemian looks.

She crossed an old carpark, full of potholes and broken bottles and climbed up on top of a dumpster. Swinging her legs into the dreary and somewhat smelly depths, she lay back on the half lid and stared up into the night sky.

Anita attempted to pick out familiar constellations and tried to block out the boys conversation. Guitar notes have a way of floating its way across the distance. Anita unconsciously started to hum along to the well known classic tune of unrequited love . Tonight, the words held a deeper meaning for her. Icy shards of her shattered heart dug deep into her chest. The night sky surrounded her as she sang louder. Anitas torn heart shouted out at the stars and they in turn, glittered and winked their seductive secrets into her soul. She could see Simon’s face; reacting - in her fantasy, with remorse. Anita climaxed with the songs most desperate plea, imagining Simon’s face softening as he approached her to passionately embrace her, wiping her tear streaked face and stroking her hair. As they embraced his shirt crinkled and clinked. Anita frowned. Shirts don’t normally have a plastic crinkle quality about them. She jerked herself up into a sitting position and looked straight at a puzzled middle aged man holding two large garbage bags. Behind him in the apartment block; which had been darkened when Anita had arrived; was several; now lit - balconies containing couples and singles; all staring at her…….

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Thursday, January 24, 2008

First brush

Prompt: Tell of a characters first brush with danger.

This first draft has been removed as it has been chosen to be included in my 2008 Anthology and is under consideration for inclusion on a collaborative one with Jodi and Paul.

These will be available here - so do pop over!