Its too bad he had to transcend anger and rebellion with hope and love. The poor vague creature... why did I have to do that. Looking down at my now covered hands, hearing the shinny tool shatter to the ground. My mouth a gap with surprise and anger, my feet quickly found the icy cave floor. I could not even recognize what just happened before the streakers of light had made there way into the dark space, though the tiny cracks in the wall. " Its almost morning." I repeated to my self while pacing back and forth. "What to do,what to do. I can't go outside with... with." Taking a deep breath. "All this redness on my hands." Retreating back step by step into the cave. My mind kept wondering back to what happened only two short days ago. He was such a nice guy or at least he was until, he met my daughter Judy. Oh my poor Judy she will be crushed to discover what I have done. No, no I can't do that she would disown me. What about my wife Georgia she will be worried by now. Oh well I didn't like her too much anyway.
The eyes and faces all turned themselves toward me, and guiding myself by them, as by a magical thread, I stepped into the room. It was moments like this that I lived for; the aftermath. When all was said and done they wanted me and me alone. Their cameras flashed like lightning among the thunder of their roaring voices. "Maranda! Maranda!" They cried as I looked down upon them from my platform. One reporter finally broke away from the crowd. He approached my podium bravely, his eyes burning with curiosity. "Maranda," he said in a calm and business-like manner. "Are the accusations true?" "Yes." "So you did in fact have an affair with the mayor?" "Yes." "You've certainly created quite a reputation for yourself, don't you think?" I made eye contact with him as my lips spread into a sly smile. "I hadn't noticed. What kind of reputation would that be." "A man-eater, a married woman's worst nightmare. It's been reported that you were involved in fourteen affairs." "Is that so?" "Yes." "Well then somebody has their facts all messed up, now don't they? I wasn't involved in fourteen affairs. I lured fourteen powerful men into my trap and destroyed their lives." I couldn't help but giggle at myself. "Oo, I like the way that sounded. Put it in your article sweetie; direct quote." "Don't you think you've destroyed your own life." He had brought silence to the room with his statement. Each reporter stood with their microphone hovering desperately before me. I laughed again, trying to mask the insecurity that had cracked my glamorous charade. But I could already see myself on the cover of every magazine, eyes wide, faced flushed, beneath the headline "HOLLYWOOD WHORE FINALLY CRACKS" "I'm living the dream," I sneered. "I have more rich men wrapped around my finger than you can count. They shower me with their gifts and their money. And when all's said and done, no strings attached." I smirked at him triumphantly, but his severe brown eyes didn't waver. "I think we're done here." The voices of the reporters swelled as they shouted their protests, but I was already halfway across the room. The sound of my heals clicking on the tiled floor resonated through the mirrored hallways almost masking the sound of footsteps behind me. "I said I was done, sweetie," I snapped. "I didn't mean what I said," the reporter from before called after me. As his reflection came into my field of vision I stopped abruptly and starred at the mirrored panels on the wall. How long had it been since I really saw myself; my long brown hair and innocent blue eyes. And yet, the woman looking back was not me. Her face was coated with makeup and her eyes lacked their childish glint. Her hair, once wild and unruly like a horse's mane, had been tamed into sleek perfection. "What have I done?" The woman in the mirror returned my pleading gaze. "You're so stupid," I screamed at her. "You've ruined everything!" She scowled. "Wasn't this what you wanted? Didn't you want to be rich and famous?" "Not like this, never like this." "You're still the same silly farm girl from Kentucky." "Shut up," I sobbed. Rage devoured me. Hadn't I done my best? Hadn't I become the most beautiful and desirable woman in Hollywood? If I had, why did it feel so wrong? "You're weak," the woman in the mirror hissed. "And you're a failure." I grabbed a heavy vase from behind me and launched it at the mirrors. They shattered like my disillusioned world. I collapsed among the glittering pieces, stroking them tenderly as if they were fond memories. Then he was there, his expensive shoes crushing the glass beside me into a fine powder. "Is this what you wanted, sweetie?"
He was soon borne away by the waves and lost in darkness and distance. But she couldn't care less. She was sick. Her mind was saturated with wicked desire, brimming with greed. And as she watched her false lover sink deeper now into the watery depth, she felt triumphant. What a fool he had been! Believing her to be nothing but an innocent and deprived young girl with a longing for affection. He took her in with an open heart. But it wasn't love she wanted. Perhaps it was her deceivingly enchanting act that allured him. Or maybe he was just too stupid to realize that it was all a game to her. He had ignorantly allowed death to creep up from the depths of misunderstanding and pull him under. She had deceived him out of nothing more than material desire. And she couldn't be more satisfied.
Mary, I looooooooove love love this! I can just picture a beautiful young woman smiling triumphantly as some stupid man dies just as she planned! So dark and perfectly descriptive!
"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."
The old man's voiced trembled with the frailty of China glass.
The nurse stood by his bed, tampering mechanically with the many tubes and wires which sustained his dwindling life.
"On stop, Mr. Thatcher." She scolded, her eyes intent on her work, "You've been predicting your death since the day you were admitted here three years ago."
"Today is the day. I know it." He attempted to turn onto his side so his back would face the young nurse, however, the machine's attachments tugged at him like the strings of a marionette and he was forced to remain on his back.
The old man sighed. "Do you think she will come today?"
"Who?"
"My daughter. I've been wanting her to visit me for quite sometime. She is by far my greatest accomplishment, so why has she deserted me?"
A woman sat in the corner of the room, a laptop perched upon her knee. She peered over the top of the Mac with scornful eyes.
The nurse glanced anxiously at her but the woman shook her head. "No need to try and reason with him. You know that as well as I do."
The nurse nodded politely then hurried out of the room as the woman raised herself from the lumpy armchair with a sigh.
She glided across the room, her black kitten heels clicking softly on the linoleum floor. She placed a hand on the patient's forehead.
"Come on, Dad, it's me. Bethany."
"No." the old man replied, "Bethany is my daughter. She works for a publishing company in this very city, but she never comes to visit me anymore."
Bethany ran a hand through her sleek bob cut which fell back into place as though by some unseen force. "She used to not visit. Now she does."
"Who are you?" Her father asked in earnest curiosity, his mattery eyes gazing up at her.
Who was she? She was Bethany Tatcher. Chief Editor at Tolberg's. She was famous in her field, rich, and successful. Yet here she sat, her father not even recognizing her face because his bitter resentment at her years of absence and his degrading mind had all but blocked out the image. All that remained of her was a ghost of daughters past, playing dolls and giving kisses in the deep recesses of his mind.
"Nobody. I'm nobody. I have nobody."
The old man frowned. "Everybody has somebody. I have my daughter, I'm sure she'll be here soon."
Bethany blinked feverishly as fresh tears threatened their torrential downpour. A daily occurrence at these daily visits.
Moments ticked by in silence as the man continued to gaze at Bethany. She couldn't tear herself away. Too many years had been lost in false love affairs, million dollar deals, and business meetings. Now all she had left was money in the bank, a job which consumed her, and a father who no longer possessed the facets to recognize her even as she stood before him.
He spoke at last. "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known." He repeated the words like a broken record as he often fixated himself on these single trains of thought.
"Pardon?"
"My daughter," he began, pausing as violent coughs racked his frail body, "she is the best thing I have ever succeeded doing and, if I could just see her at last, I'd be ready to go to a far better rest then I have ever known." The sheets draped across the man rose and fell with his deep sighing. "Then I can see heaven. I think I'll be going there. Do ya think?" His eyes widened as he awaited a response, childlike hope, the kind that could so easily be shattered, flowed from them like tears.
Bethany smiled and bent to kiss her father on the forehead. "I do. I do think. You will see those pearly white gates soon enough. Don't wait for your daughter though. You have achieved far greater things then her existence."
The man sunk deeper into his quilted nest and his eyes fluttered shut. "I don't believe that is possible."
Bethany's lips trembled but before she could give way to a fit of tears she turned her back to the rickety hospital cot, returning to the arm chair in the corner and gathering her bags. She made her way towards the door, stealing one last look at her resting father before she made her way into the hall and out onto the streets.
What is my greatest accomplishment?
The city sounds found her ears as they always did, erupting from all directions. However, she paid them little mind, her eyes staring blankly ahead as her brain seemed to shut down. Emotions no longer threatened to consume her being but rather all but deserted her petite frame as an answer to her question infiltrated her mind.
Nothing that matters.
A man bumped her shoulder and her coffee and bags were sent sprawling across the sidewalk. Office documents and lipstick hit the ground, rolling and fluttering in every which way.
A car horn beeped as the light turned green and a massive bus failed to force its engine into action fast enough.
"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."
Without a second glance at her spilled possessions Bethany walked into the street, into the path of the bus, submitting herself to its crushing force, and death found her and embraced her just as she knew he would.
It is a snowstorm special... The smiths were stuck in a snowstorm traveling home from visiting there relatives on Christmas. It was very cold and icy outside and the roads were very bad. As they were coming down the highway, they were coming to a stop because of a red light, well they couldn't stop and the next thing they knew they were crashed into the car in front of them. The one smith kid didn't have his seatbelt on like his mother told him too so he flew out and hit the window. The window shattered a little bit and his face was all bloody. They were panicking. Then they heard sirens, the police came, and the ambulance for there son, Henry. There mother called the police. This was the first accident they ever got in. Ever since that night they were very cautious in driving in a snowstorm.
That might be the subject of a new story, But our present story is ended Because our feelings turn to thoughts, Thoughts turn into words, Soon words become actions you can't control- Actions you wish to take back.
Of course, That flick, That pull, Or even your decision to buy grapes Can manipulate your world.
Bite your lips till they bleed. Close your eye so tight you cry. Cover your ears to hear your heart pound. Don't let them beat you. You're stronger.
What's in the past Is gone, Never to return. Forget the pain and stress. Everyday you become a newer you. The path you take Is to be the seed of your fruit.
I'm so sorry this is late, my house had no internet! Everything was back to normal. Nothing was the same, but the house was normal again. No more fights. No more yelling. But now shattered glass and newly charcoaled foundation accompanied the homes routine silence. No more anger. No more hatred. The air that had held tension for so long was lifted with the blank silence. The quiet fell all around. No more blaming. No more swearing. The little light fixed it all. The light devoured her pain and aggressively grew. And when the pain faded away, so did the inferno. No more conversations. No more talking. Her slight frame was barely visible, hidden away by the cold ashes in the corner. She cautiously looked around at her product of distress. Nothing was the same, but that was okay. Everything was back to normal.
Its too bad he had to transcend anger and rebellion with hope and love. The poor vague creature... why did I have to do that. Looking down at my now covered hands, hearing the shinny tool shatter to the ground. My mouth a gap with surprise and anger, my feet quickly found the icy cave floor. I could not even recognize what just happened before the streakers of light had made there way into the dark space, though the tiny cracks in the wall.
ReplyDelete" Its almost morning." I repeated to my self while pacing back and forth. "What to do,what to do. I can't go outside with... with." Taking a deep breath. "All this redness on my hands." Retreating back step by step into the cave. My mind kept wondering back to what happened only two short days ago. He was such a nice guy or at least he was until, he met my daughter Judy. Oh my poor Judy she will be crushed to discover what I have done. No, no I can't do that she would disown me. What about my wife Georgia she will be worried by now. Oh well I didn't like her too much anyway.
Killing! Now that is not what I expected from the beginning sentence! Nice response Renee.
DeleteThe eyes and faces all turned themselves toward me, and guiding myself by them, as by a magical thread, I stepped into the room. It was moments like this that I lived for; the aftermath. When all was said and done they wanted me and me alone. Their cameras flashed like lightning among the thunder of their roaring voices.
ReplyDelete"Maranda! Maranda!" They cried as I looked down upon them from my platform. One reporter finally broke away from the crowd. He approached my podium bravely, his eyes burning with curiosity.
"Maranda," he said in a calm and business-like manner. "Are the accusations true?"
"Yes."
"So you did in fact have an affair with the mayor?"
"Yes."
"You've certainly created quite a reputation for yourself, don't you think?"
I made eye contact with him as my lips spread into a sly smile. "I hadn't noticed. What kind of reputation would that be."
"A man-eater, a married woman's worst nightmare. It's been reported that you were involved in fourteen affairs."
"Is that so?"
"Yes."
"Well then somebody has their facts all messed up, now don't they? I wasn't involved in fourteen affairs. I lured fourteen powerful men into my trap and destroyed their lives." I couldn't help but giggle at myself. "Oo, I like the way that sounded. Put it in your article sweetie; direct quote."
"Don't you think you've destroyed your own life."
He had brought silence to the room with his statement. Each reporter stood with their microphone hovering desperately before me. I laughed again, trying to mask the insecurity that had cracked my glamorous charade. But I could already see myself on the cover of every magazine, eyes wide, faced flushed, beneath the headline "HOLLYWOOD WHORE FINALLY CRACKS"
"I'm living the dream," I sneered. "I have more rich men wrapped around my finger than you can count. They shower me with their gifts and their money. And when all's said and done, no strings attached." I smirked at him triumphantly, but his severe brown eyes didn't waver. "I think we're done here."
The voices of the reporters swelled as they shouted their protests, but I was already halfway across the room. The sound of my heals clicking on the tiled floor resonated through the mirrored hallways almost masking the sound of footsteps behind me.
"I said I was done, sweetie," I snapped.
"I didn't mean what I said," the reporter from before called after me. As his reflection came into my field of vision I stopped abruptly and starred at the mirrored panels on the wall. How long had it been since I really saw myself; my long brown hair and innocent blue eyes. And yet, the woman looking back was not me. Her face was coated with makeup and her eyes lacked their childish glint. Her hair, once wild and unruly like a horse's mane, had been tamed into sleek perfection.
"What have I done?" The woman in the mirror returned my pleading gaze. "You're so stupid," I screamed at her. "You've ruined everything!"
She scowled. "Wasn't this what you wanted? Didn't you want to be rich and famous?"
"Not like this, never like this."
"You're still the same silly farm girl from Kentucky."
"Shut up," I sobbed. Rage devoured me. Hadn't I done my best? Hadn't I become the most beautiful and desirable woman in Hollywood? If I had, why did it feel so wrong?
"You're weak," the woman in the mirror hissed. "And you're a failure."
I grabbed a heavy vase from behind me and launched it at the mirrors. They shattered like my disillusioned world. I collapsed among the glittering pieces, stroking them tenderly as if they were fond memories. Then he was there, his expensive shoes crushing the glass beside me into a fine powder.
"Is this what you wanted, sweetie?"
Wow,
DeleteThat is heavy for our first day! I LOVE it! Nice writing and good details. She is so pathetic.
this is wonderful!!!! in love with this!
DeleteOh. My. Gosh.
DeleteHe was soon borne away by the waves and lost in darkness and distance. But she couldn't care less. She was sick. Her mind was saturated with wicked desire, brimming with greed. And as she watched her false lover sink deeper now into the watery depth, she felt triumphant. What a fool he had been! Believing her to be nothing but an innocent and deprived young girl with a longing for affection. He took her in with an open heart. But it wasn't love she wanted. Perhaps it was her deceivingly enchanting act that allured him. Or maybe he was just too stupid to realize that it was all a game to her. He had ignorantly allowed death to creep up from the depths of misunderstanding and pull him under. She had deceived him out of nothing more than material desire. And she couldn't be more satisfied.
ReplyDeleteMary, I looooooooove love love this! I can just picture a beautiful young woman smiling triumphantly as some stupid man dies just as she planned! So dark and perfectly descriptive!
DeleteYou girls are really sinister today! This is fabulous! Dark and disturbing and very well written. MMWHAAAAA!
DeleteThis is perfection. Oh my gosh I love it.
Delete"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."
ReplyDeleteThe old man's voiced trembled with the frailty of China glass.
The nurse stood by his bed, tampering mechanically with the many tubes and wires which sustained his dwindling life.
"On stop, Mr. Thatcher." She scolded, her eyes intent on her work, "You've been predicting your death since the day you were admitted here three years ago."
"Today is the day. I know it." He attempted to turn onto his side so his back would face the young nurse, however, the machine's attachments tugged at him like the strings of a marionette and he was forced to remain on his back.
The old man sighed. "Do you think she will come today?"
"Who?"
"My daughter. I've been wanting her to visit me for quite sometime. She is by far my greatest accomplishment, so why has she deserted me?"
A woman sat in the corner of the room, a laptop perched upon her knee. She peered over the top of the Mac with scornful eyes.
The nurse glanced anxiously at her but the woman shook her head. "No need to try and reason with him. You know that as well as I do."
The nurse nodded politely then hurried out of the room as the woman raised herself from the lumpy armchair with a sigh.
She glided across the room, her black kitten heels clicking softly on the linoleum floor. She placed a hand on the patient's forehead.
"Come on, Dad, it's me. Bethany."
"No." the old man replied, "Bethany is my daughter. She works for a publishing company in this very city, but she never comes to visit me anymore."
Bethany ran a hand through her sleek bob cut which fell back into place as though by some unseen force. "She used to not visit. Now she does."
"Who are you?" Her father asked in earnest curiosity, his mattery eyes gazing up at her.
Who was she? She was Bethany Tatcher. Chief Editor at Tolberg's. She was famous in her field, rich, and successful. Yet here she sat, her father not even recognizing her face because his bitter resentment at her years of absence and his degrading mind had all but blocked out the image. All that remained of her was a ghost of daughters past, playing dolls and giving kisses in the deep recesses of his mind.
"Nobody. I'm nobody. I have nobody."
The old man frowned. "Everybody has somebody. I have my daughter, I'm sure she'll be here soon."
Bethany blinked feverishly as fresh tears threatened their torrential downpour. A daily occurrence at these daily visits.
Moments ticked by in silence as the man continued to gaze at Bethany. She couldn't tear herself away. Too many years had been lost in false love affairs, million dollar deals, and business meetings. Now all she had left was money in the bank, a job which consumed her, and a father who no longer possessed the facets to recognize her even as she stood before him.
He spoke at last. "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known." He repeated the words like a broken record as he often fixated himself on these single trains of thought.
"Pardon?"
"My daughter," he began, pausing as violent coughs racked his frail body, "she is the best thing I have ever succeeded doing and, if I could just see her at last, I'd be ready to go to a far better rest then I have ever known." The sheets draped across the man rose and fell with his deep sighing. "Then I can see heaven. I think I'll be going there. Do ya think?" His eyes widened as he awaited a response, childlike hope, the kind that could so easily be shattered, flowed from them like tears.
Bethany smiled and bent to kiss her father on the forehead. "I do. I do think. You will see those pearly white gates soon enough. Don't wait for your daughter though. You have achieved far greater things then her existence."
DeleteThe man sunk deeper into his quilted nest and his eyes fluttered shut. "I don't believe that is possible."
Bethany's lips trembled but before she could give way to a fit of tears she turned her back to the rickety hospital cot, returning to the arm chair in the corner and gathering her bags. She made her way towards the door, stealing one last look at her resting father before she made her way into the hall and out onto the streets.
What is my greatest accomplishment?
The city sounds found her ears as they always did, erupting from all directions. However, she paid them little mind, her eyes staring blankly ahead as her brain seemed to shut down. Emotions no longer threatened to consume her being but rather all but deserted her petite frame as an answer to her question infiltrated her mind.
Nothing that matters.
A man bumped her shoulder and her coffee and bags were sent sprawling across the sidewalk. Office documents and lipstick hit the ground, rolling and fluttering in every which way.
A car horn beeped as the light turned green and a massive bus failed to force its engine into action fast enough.
"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."
Without a second glance at her spilled possessions Bethany walked into the street, into the path of the bus, submitting herself to its crushing force, and death found her and embraced her just as she knew he would.
How beautifully tragic. Regret is a painful thing, as is evident here. Nice work.
DeleteThis is really emotional. Its so realistic and then the end is like POW and you're just like whoa.
DeleteIt is a snowstorm special... The smiths were stuck in a snowstorm traveling home from visiting there relatives on Christmas. It was very cold and icy outside and the roads were very bad. As they were coming down the highway, they were coming to a stop because of a red light, well they couldn't stop and the next thing they knew they were crashed into the car in front of them. The one smith kid didn't have his seatbelt on like his mother told him too so he flew out and hit the window. The window shattered a little bit and his face was all bloody. They were panicking. Then they heard sirens, the police came, and the ambulance for there son, Henry. There mother called the police. This was the first accident they ever got in. Ever since that night they were very cautious in driving in a snowstorm.
ReplyDeleteThat might be the subject of a new story,
ReplyDeleteBut our present story is ended
Because our feelings turn to thoughts,
Thoughts turn into words,
Soon words become actions you can't control-
Actions you wish to take back.
Of course,
That flick,
That pull,
Or even your decision to buy grapes
Can manipulate your world.
Bite your lips till they bleed.
Close your eye so tight you cry.
Cover your ears to hear your heart pound.
Don't let them beat you.
You're stronger.
What's in the past
Is gone,
Never to return.
Forget the pain and stress.
Everyday you become a newer you.
The path you take
Is to be the seed of your fruit.
I am really happy to see that someone got the last line in Crime and Punishment :) I love this
DeleteYes, me too. This is a nice one.
DeleteI'm so sorry this is late, my house had no internet!
ReplyDeleteEverything was back to normal.
Nothing was the same, but the house was normal again.
No more fights.
No more yelling.
But now shattered glass and newly charcoaled foundation accompanied the homes routine silence.
No more anger.
No more hatred.
The air that had held tension for so long was lifted with the blank silence. The quiet fell all around.
No more blaming.
No more swearing.
The little light fixed it all. The light devoured her pain and aggressively grew. And when the pain faded away, so did the inferno.
No more conversations.
No more talking.
Her slight frame was barely visible, hidden away by the cold ashes in the corner. She cautiously looked around at her product of distress.
Nothing was the same, but that was okay.
Everything was back to normal.
Another beauty. This is compelling.
Delete