Monday, December 9, 2013

Week 15: Choice one, Journal

The biting cold air is a welcome feeling, as I walk into the arena. The loud echoing of the announcer is almost like music to my ears. The benches around the arena are cold and wooden. I lay down my blanket and snicker at the people who are not prepared. I settle down onto my blanket, throw my hat over my head, and put my piping hot coffee between my gloved fingers. The players begin to come out onto the ice. The players benches are across from where I sit, and I can see my brother slam his mask shut and suck in his mouth guard with resolve, he is determined to win. The game begins and the distinct noise of the sport echo around the announcer as he screams the score and encourages the team. Suddenly, my brother has the puck, he skates wildly, dodging the away teams players. The away team rams him, as he falls, he flicks the puck with a small movement of his wrist. He falls onto the ice, but the puck is still moving. The goalie makes a decision and leaps, he chooses wrong. The fog horn blares and the screams echo.

Hymn after hymn fills the church. I try to stifle a yawn and keep lip syncing. Why in the world did I let my mother convince me to come to church? I flip through the hymnal to the next song and lament how long it seems to drag. Finally, the singing part is over, and I can return to my seat. I grab my bible and slowly flip through the pages. If my mother knew that I hadn't opened this since high school she would probably have an anuerism. Luckily I let my fingers do the walking and I was able to find the specific passages the preacher indicated without a problem. My mother glanced over and seemed happy that I had found the book of Judges without an issue. I smiled at her and whispered that I needed a pen and paper for notes. She willingly obliged and I was content to draw pictures and scribbles throughout the entire sermon.

Science sucks, it really does. Especially when your science teacher gives you an unknown disease and expects you to figure out what it is in 3 class days. I have done caltase tests, agar tests, stains, and I still have no clue. However, luckily my teacher is sympathetic and understands my plight, she has extended my time by one day. I have until tomorrow to correctly name this disease.

Week 14: Using yourself differently #2

Blurry eyes, and crusties are wiped away. The pain behind the eyes become more severe and the thought,
"you're never good enough" rolls across. Listlessly crossing and uncrossing of the legs are tell tale signs of nervousness. The restlessness stops momentarily as a pair of feet appear underneath the closed door. When the feet disappear the restlessness returns. Picking at the skin around the fingernails is a gross habit and the shaking leg returns. Suddenly, someone enters the rooms and extends their hand to be shook, "you're never good enough" again rolls across the unchecked thoughts.

Week 14: Using yourself differently #1

The traffic is crazy, and the incessant "stop and go" has created deeper nail holes in the steering wheel. Swishing in and out of slow cars, the store grows closer.  Unexpectedly, the door slams, and causes irritation but the crunch of snow under ugg boots tucked neatly into turquoise pants soothes. Inside the store, the smell of urine and feces masked with perfume cause a nose wrinkle. The cashier immediately waves and beckons towards the small kennel beneath his feet. A small, brown, wrinkly face stares up, with liquid brown eyes. A swift nod, cash is exchanged, and the puppy is whisked to the car, he whines pathetically but is quickly soothed in the lap of turquoise.

Week 13: Small to large, large to small

I sit up in bed, and cock my head to the side. The constant noise lures me in. I remain perfectly still and strain my ears to locate the source of the noise.
the rhythmic dripping drives me insane. I glance next to me, my boyfriend is not in bed. Instant fear leaps into my belly and my throat feels like it is closing. I focus on my breathing, trying to slow it down back to a consistent speed.
I slowly spread the blankets back, and noiselessly get out of bed. I slip my feet into my awaiting slippers and silently make it to the bedroom door. Still trying to locate the noise. Once I reach the door, I see a faint light under the bathroom door. I gulp and reach for the door. I slowly and quietly turn the handle and push the door open. There stands my boyfriend, shaving, and the water is on a slow drip. I can breathe normal again.

Week 13: Prompt 3

In the drawer is a box made of carved and joined bits of driftwood, which holds objects meaningless to anyone else but sacred, precious, unforgettable to you...

I reach under my bed, and grab my special box. Inside the box is a velvet bag, and I can faintly hear the jingle of coins. I open the bag and out falls a dozen or so coins. The smushed, smooth copper is cold and slippery in my hand. I flip each penny over and reminisce on the places that I have been. Each penny is imprinted with a place that I have traveled to. Even as a child, I was always drawn to those crank machines, with the exposed gears. "Put in a penny, create a keepsake", the machines screamed at me. Ever since my first exposure on the Jersey Shore, I was hooked.

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Week 13: Prompt 2

Dump the trash bin on the floor, pull on your rubber gloves, and hunt for the truth.

This line kept repeating over and over in my mind. Ever since I had called my mom and told her what I thought was going on, she had uttered those words. There I sat in his office, surrounded by his possessions, thrown haphazardly across the room.  Even after all my searching, I had found nothing. As I wallowed in my misery, I heard a car door slam. My heart slammed in to high speed mode, and my stomach leapt into my throat. I panicked and raced from the room. The key scraped on the front door lock. Big boots scuffed there way across the floor to the office. I snuck upstairs, further away from the impending explosion. I ran to the bedroom and slammed the door behind me. The big boot scuffs grew faster as he skipped steps in his haste to get upstairs. His fist pounded on the door. I pressed myself against the closet wall and whispered to myself, trying to calm my nerves. The slamming stopped, for a moment. Then the door was broken, splintered away from the door frame. His boots scuffed across the rug until he found me. His fingers wrapped around my neck and the bright bedroom seemed to darken. A black haze moved into my line of vision. The haze grew larger and larger until I couldn't see his face. I closed my eyes. 

Week 13: Prompt 1

Loosely holding hands, not even aware of doing so, but, still, skin touching skin....I looked up at him.  He smiled down at me and squeezed my hand harder. We kissed underneath the apple tree, the moonlight peeking through the trees, illuminating our figures. Suddenly, without warning he left me..alone. I stared down at my hand, willing it to feel his warmth again. 
Cold aching pierced my heart. The officers in front of me were still talking, but I heard nothing. I gasped for air, and my lungs quivered at the effort. Tears streamed down my face. I couldn't believe he was gone. I ran to the apple tree, I vaguely heard the officers follow me. Underneath the tree, the moon shimmered down. The officers grabbed both my hands to pull me up. I didn't let go of them. I stared at our hands, intertwined underneath the apple tree, where it had all began.