fiction
a. short story.
The 1st short story I ever wrote.
part 1 of the story “streetlights, passion, and kismet” that allowed me to be 1 of 15 accepted into the zoetrope: all-story writer’s workshop in belize (central america) in 1998.
streetlight, passion, and kismet. part one.
I can hear your voice …. even after all of this time. I didn’t realize that time could enhance my recollections of you but somehow you are more present in my life now than ever before. I must admit though that I miss you more than you may ever know. By the way, thanks for always watching over me. I mean the streetlights. They still go off whenever I get home at night, just like clockwork. It doesn’t matter where I am. I know it’s you letting me know you’re still looking out for me. You always did make sure I was safe. You taught me so much. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have learned to take life but the balls and make sure nothing stands in the way of my dreams. I miss you. It gets really hard at times. I begin to feel such a sadness inside when I think that I may be going through all of this without you, but there are things that have happened since had to leave this world that show me that you are still protecting me. It began the day you died. That the hardest day of my life, but I’ll never forget that night. The sky was clearer than it had ever been and the stars were shining so bright as if you were telling me that life wouldn’t be the same, but that you would make it shine. Although that was such a simple display, it is a memory that I recall to remind me to see more than just a sky, I now notice how beautiful it is, especially knowing you’re up there.
Mom, sometimes I just feel like running so far away. I feel like no one understands me quite like you do; you showed me what it was to have freedom, to dream and to never settle for anything less than I deserved, no matter the situation. I feel I am finally defining my dreams. Although at times they seem so far out of reach, I know they are real. do you know that sometimes I hear you laughing? You’re laughing that Woody Woodpecker laugh, the one that is so contagious to those around you. It’s amazing how much I remember. I remember the way you could brighten up a room with your smile. I remember your auburn, straight from the compliments of Miss Clairol hair, your hazel eyes and your perfect skin. I swear, you had the most beautiful skin. I still think you could been a Cover Girl! Sometimes I can actually smell you. Each time I pass the gardenias in my garden, I recall your perfume - Jungle Gardenia. That was your favorite. Anyway, I know that I can’t physically share all of this with you, but from my soul I can.
Right now I am on my way to the airport. I have a business meeting in Chicago. I have been questioning so many things in my life. I have come to a point where I realize I just wasn’t cut out for the 9 to 5 gig. I am aware that the bills aren’t going to just disappear, but in my heart I’m somebody different. I am an artist and I have finally realized I need to share the core of who I am with the rest of those who are willing to listen, even if they might not understand it. I write. It’s amazing. I write just like you: poetic, yet brutally honest. What a trip, huh? A clone of you but with all due respect, I am trying not to make the same mistakes, or “choices” as I like to call them. I think you may have done your life differently; taking more risks and paying less attention to what everyone else thought you should do. I know you never felt you deserved enough, but you did. You deserved the world! Now, in memory of you I can’t let anything stand in the way of my dreams. I have to pay attention to what my heart says and create my own opportunities. I know that most of those in my life won’t understand that, I often don’t understand it myself. Either way I want to be able to look in the mirror and feel dignified, no remorseful. I am in search of happiness, but I know I’m responsible for my own. I feel that happiness is the greatest responsibility that too many neglect. I have to set the example. After all, losing you taught me that we only have one shot at this. We have to make it worth it! I know you will take my hand and show me where my own yellow brick road will lead. I have this feeling that this trip will define my purpose. I wonder what time it is … shit! I’ve got to get moving. I’m never going to make it to the airport on time, especially in this rain!
Oh this rain is torture! I can actually feel all of the smog just washing onto my skin. People are driving like they just escaped from an insane asylum. Weaving in and out, slamming on their brakes and talking on that damn cellular phone! I swear only here in L.A. could it be that everyone, even kids, have a cell phone. It was a novel invention, but really?! All of a sudden I feel as if my car has become animated and my tired, now taking on this incredibly empowered form, rise up as if they are holding up their skirt only to cross the water and steadily tiptoe past each car. Lightly but efficiently. Ah, I can safely reach the airport without suffering through this cluster of automobiles that have no real place to go!
The rain is falling so abruptly on the windshield, it seems to be suffering in some way. Each drop falls harder as if to let me know it wishes to be freed from all of the having that is built around this city. I cannot see too clearly through the dampened window but I can hear the roar of the engines ignited overhead as I arrive at the airport. Where is the airline? This could take longer than the flight itself! There’s international flights … Hawaiian … AirFrance … there we go, Domestic flights. Now I have to do is find a parking spot - a potentially brave attempt! Pulling up to the gate I can barely make out the booth where I pull the parking ticket out the “arm” raises to allow me clearance. Even though it is pouring rain and visibility is at next to zero, I can still see the huge sign that reads, “DO NOT BACK UP. SEVERE TIRE DAMAGE”. If only the signs in life were that big and obvious, it would warn us before we delve in. Oh, how great is this? I found parking spot right in front. Of course it will probably cost me $2000 to keep it here for four days. Airports.
Scurrying to get past the crowd, I almost run right through the metal detector. Whoops! Throwing my bag up on the X-ray machine, I walk through the electronic pillars. I’m surprised. I actually made it through without a single beep! I better check and make sure my flight’s on time. There’s the monitors, now where is my flight? Great, they’re already boarding! As I rush to the gate, barely making it, I board the plane, pass the stewardess, I mean “flight attendant”, and my seat. Seat 26B is where I’m supposed to be. Coach. Of course. Where oh where is it? Oh there. Good, a window sear This is the best seat. Wither you have an incredible view of you’re the first one to see the engine blow. It’s like your very own action flick! I am hoping the seat next to me stays vacant. Stretching my arms out and finding a position I can stay in for the five hours, a little jingle comes on overhead letting us know it’s time to “buckle up” and then follows the pilot and his spiel welcoming us aboard and off we go. The engines and revving, plane turning and slightly and I begin to feel the vibrating under my seat as we approach the runway. We’re building speed and I grip the handles beside me as if someone just cut off a limb. I’m not the biggest fan of flying. I’m hoping chuck Yeager the 2nd is the pilot of this plane.
Well, that wasn’t so bad. It’s amazing how fast these over-sized birds can fly. I mean we have already gone way above the ocean and are now making our ways through the clouds. Looking out of the small window, I feel so much closer to you. You’re world doesn’t seem so far away. It seems to have stopped raining. The sky is extraordinary. It is so much bluer up here. There are a few remaining drops that manage to creep u p on the window but the raindrops seem to be saying goodbye as I watch them dance about the sky. The clouds that await me outside are thick and billowy like inviting trampolines allowing me to give in to my young ways. I know you are able to see such utter perfection. I admire you. It is lovely up here.
Ugh! This beautiful moment is now interrupted. What the hell is this guy doing? Geez! I think his seat is as far reclined as it can get! Hey buddy, that’s my leg you’re squishing. All right already, quit it! Comfy? You should be. I have no more room to breathe back here. Oh yeah, that’s it, take a nap! I don’t think so. Just as I lean forward to tell this guy he’s the most rude and inconsiderate bastard I have ever - oh! Would you look at him? He has the face of an angel. I don’t think any of the Greek Gods were this beautiful! Leaning forward to take a better look, I get a whiff of his cologne. Mmm. Closing my eyes to breathe him in, I find that we are suddenly out on the wing of the plane and those cloud trampolines are our love nest. Just then he takes his big, strong hands and gently turns my face towards his. We just look at each other. No words spoke, only utter silence. He pulls my face in and with those sensual, suckable lips he kisses me. I think we just entered a new time zone - erotica! He then looks into my green eyes, which must be giving every impulse in me away. Suddenly I realize that this could be one of the best memories I ever look back on. This could be the story I tell my granddaughter or perhaps this is one for those “lonely” moments. Mesmerized by those brown eyes with golden flecks, I am paralyzed as he brings me close to his body. His fingers begin to caress my hair and then my cheeks. He moves his fingers down to my mouth where he rubs my lips with his thumb. I slowly open my mouth and softly caress the top of this thumb with my tongue. I begin putting it all the way inside and lightly suck it up and down. With my other hand I lead him outside of blouse. He fondles my breasts and then leans down to taste them. I am so aroused! My breaths are short and complete. I begin wandering with my hands and make my way down his back lightly squeezing his strong torso. I find my way around his back and come around to the front of his jeans. Button fly! I begin to unbutton the first and continue until he is exposed. I rub my hands against him and begin to caress. His mouth is devouring me as I realize his hands have made their way under my skirt. He props me up and….
“Excuse me. Excuse me, Miss. Would you care for anything to drink?”
I blink and realize I was staring off. Damn! He is still sleeping. Taking a moment to realize it was just a fantasy, I answer, “Yes please. An ice cold glass of water and a glass of Cabernet.” To bad you can’t smoke on planes. I could go for a nice Cuban cigar … I guess that would work if I smoked!
(the last part of the story to be published soon…)
