girl he calls [Harlot]

Reel 1

i stand on my mark. a black X beneath my feet. the foreground to a marbled gray backdrop. i am naked. exposed. with a V etched into my skin. above my heart. my freshly branded scarlet emblem. it does not stand alone. circled in red paint. slashed through. (no smoking. do not enter. no shirt. no shoes. no service.) he said i was stained. dirt on his white pant suit. a smudge on his camera lens. my body distorted by his idealism like a window coated in a thin film of rain. the camera losing focus. a grainy photograph. everything in black and white. captured. framed stills. my face smeared into gray scale. i am unrecognizable. i no longer exist. he placed a black bar of censorship over the ugly parts. pieces. fragments of me he would never touch. he tried to solarize me. turn me inside out. make me into something other than what he saw before his eyes. his (finger)prints covering what was left of me. or what he wanted to see of me. all he saw were the negatives.

snapshot no. 166

“You don’t laugh as much anymore,” she said.

“I have forgotten what it sounds like.”

writing process

writing a novel is scary. scratch that. it’s terrifying. i honestly have no idea what i am doing. when i sit down to work on it i often find myself closing my computer and walking away. ideas can be flowing through my brain up until i am sitting in front of that screen. cursor flashing. the curse of a perfectionist.

overwhelming thoughts: check.

avoidance: check.

wanting the story to write itself: check.

when it comes down to it, i think i am scared to expose my characters to other people. they have been with me for years. slowly developing into the people i want them to be. what if i let them out into the open air and no one likes them? what if no one believes their story? what then? their story is my story. i have long forgotten where they end and i begin. they are my friends. they are my heart. they are

me.

yesterday i was able to work on it for several hours. i made some progress. not much, but some. little steps, i keep telling myself. even after i finished though i had half a mind to scrap it all. crap. all crap. i was consumed by the thought of how pathetic my dialogue was. i wanted to “toss it in the trash.” those hours of work would have been gone. erased.

but instead i will probably avoid it for yet another week.

or so.

the whole story is trapped in my head. waiting to come out. bursting at the seams to come out and onto the page. why won’t it just flow from my brain to my fingertips?

i was looking for a challenge when i first set out to write this thing. and a challenge is what i found.

in a car

he had silenced her heart. stopped its beating warmth. she felt its void. cold fingers came and snatched it without her permission. the sudden vacancy left her short of breath. she looked over at him sitting there. those eyes bit into her. sent a tremor through her body. she saw in their crystal cold blue a reflection of the black hole residing in her chest. a great cavern of echoes and screams.

“See you tomorrow?” he said.

“Sure.”

a precious side note

I wanted to take a quick minute to thank everyone who follows my blog. It amazes me that so many would want to read the words that tumble out of me and onto the page. I no longer feel as though I am writing to the eternal abyss that is the internet. It encourages me to keep writing. To never let the words fall silent.

Again, thank you.

Allison

dear Mom

It had been a rough night, that much she remembers.

Her memory unreliable.

She had been young at the time. She had no idea of what it was like to sit at a desk, to learn to read and write. That much she knew.

Maybe it had been a summer storm with crashing thunder, sadistic and unpredictable.

Maybe it had been Sister up most of the night fussing. Not as a baby would, but as a toddler refusing to sleep.

Unreliable: her child’s lens with vague whisperings in her adult mind.

No one slept. Not Father. Not Mother. Not her. Not Sister.

Father thought she was the noise maker keeping sleep from settling on the house. She ran for Mother and crawled in bed with her. She would defend her. Know who the real culprit was. Father was distracted by his baby girl. That face could do no wrong. Innocently mischievous.

Mother spoke to Father. Set the record straight. She pictured Sister laying in her bed giggling.

She and Mother walked back to her room and Sister went with Father to try and find sleep.

They sat on her bed and looked out the window.

Unreliable: time. She felt grown up talking to Mother late into the night. Mother in her bathrobe and she in her little girl pajamas. The sun began to make its shy ascent from the east.

Mother had an idea. Mother took her out to the patio at back of the house. They set up the lawn chairs. They sat there with the early morning light bouncing off the dew in the grass. She ran her fingers along the plastic bands of the chair: white, blue, and yellow. They watched as the sun became braver and rose higher in the sky. When the sun had fully revealed itself she sat back and enjoyed its warmth.

She waited as Mother got up and went into the house. When Mother returned there were two fudgesicles in hand. She caught her breath. This was unexpected and so grown up. She sat straight in her chair. She was a lady. She was sophisticated. Fudgesicles before breakfast. So this is what grown ups did. She stole glances at Mother as they ate and found conversation about the light. The morning. The birds and their songs.

Vague glimpses, snapshot memories but time stood still. That much she remembers.

She pulled her legs up to her chest. They read the jokes on the sticks the fudgesicles left behind.

Fudgesicles. Fudgesicles for breakfast. She looked at her Mother and took mental pictures of how the light played on her skin.

They sat there and she knew it was a morning, a moment, a memory she would hold in her heart until her last breath escaped her.

note to self:

from Donald Miller’s book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, quoting Robert McKee

collaboration in motion

repost: i have had this line stuck in my head for years: “i am a dilapidated house” with no where to go with it…

even if you don’t consider yourself to be a writer, add a line or two, or a few words. the littlest things can spark creativity. so please help me in this collaborative project to complete what has been waiting to find its place on the page.

here’s the project in motion:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

i am a dilapidated house/withered and weary: [i’ll tell you a story]/derelict and decaying: [my bones will expose this history]/a skeleton held together by nails and paint chips/as Adam came from the dust/so my wooden beams are returning back to Earth…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

thanks to iterluxperpetua for your help in collaborating so far!

 

 

 

snapshot no. 99

photo by Enrique Ruiz

Things had not been good between Aly and J.F. It was one of those rare days of sun in Portland and though it was still cold enough to chill her to her bones, Aly felt hopeful that the day would be a good one. J.F. had become irritable and distant in the last several weeks leaving Aly to feel as though she was walking on unstable ground. She never knew what side of him she was going to get.

Nevertheless, Aly decided she was going to make the most of today. She loved days like this.

After church, she and J.F. decided to go to lunch in downtown with their friends Ethan and Jade. She always looked forward to spending time with them. When J.F. was in one of his moods they helped to relieve the loneliness she felt.

The original plan had been to get lunch at two different Italian restaurants and compare meals while they people watched along the Waterfront. Aly was disappointed to find her favorite place closed, but it was decided. They would go to the one J.F. preferred.

J.F. parked the car and went to pay for parking while Aly, Jade, and Ethan piled out of the car. As Aly climbed out of the passenger seat she heard Ethan exclaim about stray dog poop sitting on the sidewalk near his door.

“Dude I almost stepped in that crap!”

Jade was laughing and trying to get air.

“That would’ve sucked to be the one to step in it,” Aly laughed as she came around to the sidewalk.

J.F. walked up to put the parking sticker in his window, “What happened?”

Jade pointed to the abandoned pile, “Ethan almost stepped in dog poop.”

J.F.’s eyebrows went up in amusement.

As they fell into step in the direction of the restaurant, J.F. and Ethan took the lead leaving Aly and Jade to bring up the rear. It had been awhile since the girls had seen each other and both were glad to have a few moments to catch up. The late winter air sent a chill down Aly’s spine causing her to bury herself further into her coat, but the sun was out. That’s all that mattered.

Lunch was pleasant. The waiter was witty and kept them laughing. As they waited for the food to arrive the four of them had fun drawing all over the table top. Aly could not remember the last time she had drawn with a crayon. She felt like a kid again. Drawing pictures all over blank pieces of paper as her teacher read to her class after recess.

Walking back to the car after the meal it was decided the sunshine was not going to go to waste. Since eating lunch at the Waterfront had not gone according to plan, it was determined they would drive across the river and walk along the east side. The sun had shifted since they had been inside and the cold was starting to seep in.

Aly felt it crack and pop before she realized what had happened. She let out a scream of laughter. “Gross! I stepped in the poop! Yuck!”

“I heard it! Sick.” Ethan was fighting back a smile.

Aly ran to the curb to try and scrap it from the bottom of her shoe.

Both Ethan and Jade were laughing. J.F. had an enormous grin on his face. Aly could not help but laugh either. “That’s what I get for my comment earlier.”

With that they all jumped in J.F.’s car and drove toward the other side of the river.

They parked the car near OMSI and headed for the nearest dock. A father was fishing with his young son while another man sat playing his violin closest to the ramp. J.F. pointed out the no fishing sign and Aly giggled, “Guess the sign doesn’t include them.”

“Guess not.”

They all stood there for a few moments enjoying the scene. Aly especially liked the music floating out over the water. Music had a way of moving her soul. And she was lost in it before she realized J.F. had left her side and was heading back up the ramp. She ran to catch up with him and slipped her arm through his. They made their way down the sidewalk stopping to read the information plaques giving the history of the river and its animal life. Ethan and Jade had passed them and had found their way to the propeller that sits as a memorial for local naval officers who lost their lives protecting their country. Ethan wanted a picture with Jade in front of it so Aly stepped back next to J.F. as he took the picture. It was their turn next and Aly could barely keep her eyes open due to the sun shining directly in her eyes. It was painful but she did not care. There was sun. That was the most important thing. J.F. was wearing his pair of Shwood sunglasses she had given him for Christmas. She could not help but think how good they looked on him.

Suddenly J.F. grabbed Aly and tried to set her onto of the joint of the propeller. She screamed and protested.

“Are you scared of heights?” he asked.

“No! I’m afraid I’ll slip off. There’s no way I can stay up on that thing.”

“Yes you can. Try,” he lifted her higher.

They were both laughing, and Aly protested more before J.F. put her back on her feet. Ethan and J.F. tried to climb the blades but the metal was too smooth for them to successfully reach the top.

Ready to move on they headed toward the submarine where The Hunt for Red October was filmed. Aly did her best Sean Connery impersonation trying to get J.F. to laugh, but all she was rewarded with was a courtesy chuckle. J.F. and Ethan were determined to sneak onto the submarine without a ticket and check it out, but Jade and Aly hung back. They were not about to get caught in there. As much as Aly wanted to go in, the thought made her anxious. She could feel her chest tighten and though she was not claustrophobic, the thought of being in such a tight space, underwater no less, made her nervous. She was content to wait with Jade out in the open air.

J.F. and Ethan did not get very far. There was a man just inside the door and informed them the only way they were getting in was with a ticket.

After the failed attempt at having a mini adventure, the group found themselves standing by the railing that snaked its way along the sidewalk protecting passersby from falling into the river.

Aly and Jade started laughing as Ethan and J.F. were oblivious to Jade’s phone filming them. Once they heard the laughter they turned to see what was going on.

“You two look like you are modeling,” Aly said. “Strike a pose! Work it!”

With that both started to strike poses not realizing they were on video instead of having pictures taken. This sent Aly and Jade into more fits of laughter. Finally they told their male model boyfriends they had been caught on candid camera. Ethan and J.F. came over to see the video.

“Dangit! I can’t find it. I don’t know how to work my new phone,” Jade exclaimed.

“Did you scroll through your camera roll?” Ethan took the phone from Jade and tried to find the evidence. No such luck.

“Here try going back,” J.F. interjected.

“Ugh I thought I was filming that whole time.”

“Shoot! It would have been so funny!” Aly was disappointed. She wanted to see J.F. and Ethan’s expressions.

Aly was not sure how long they had been at OMSI but her hands were starting to feel like ice, and the sun was beginning to disappear.

The group began heading back toward the car. Aly had not realized how far down the walk they had gone, she had been enjoying herself too much. J.F. and she were in front, and the distance between the two couples grew. J.F. had his hands in his coat pockets which she accounted was due to the cold. Aly slipped her hand into his pocket as she usually did. She liked feeling connected to him, even though things had not been good between them lately. Occasionally she would look back and see the distance had grown between J.F. and her, and their friends. Ethan and Jade made her smile. She loved them and thought they looked so cute together holding hands, lost in conversation.

J.F. and Aly walked on in silence. They did not talk much these days. Or rather, he did not talk to her much these days. Aly was not sure from what point along the walk until that moment it happened, but she sensed more that saw J.F. withdraw from her. She felt unstable again and glanced back at Ethan and Jade for reassurance. It suddenly struck her that even though it was cold they were still holding hands. She was not sure why it had hit her so hard, but she felt as though her joy began to crack and crumble. She wanted what they had, a closeness and safety in being with each other.

Its not like this was the first time, but every time he stuck his hands in his coat rather than hold hers she justified it to herself that the cold was the culprit.

The loneliness she had begun to feel every time she was with him was back. It hit her like a bullet to the chest. Now she felt as though her heart had become shaky, delicate and breakable.

Aly was lost in thought when J.F. leaned in and asked, “Do you think that’s a little girl or a midget on that scooter?”

“It’s a little girl and technically she’d be called a ‘little person,’” she teased him.

He ignored her attempt at breaking the tension, “She’s not a little girl. Look at her body proportion.”

“Yes she is. Her father is right there next to her.”

“How do you know it’s her father?”

“I just do!”

“Quick we have to catch up and find out.”

Aly laughed. “You go then. You’re legs are longer than mine, and you can come back and tell me what you find out.”

“Come on. We’re losing them.” J.F. had taken off at a speed walking pace, but with her 5’3” frame to his 6’4” she practically had to run. Despite the pain creeping into her heart she laughed and tried to push him forward to in order to cure his curiosity. When he would not go she broke into an all out run. He caught up with her easily, but the figure on the scooter with the curly white blonde hair evaded them.

“Well I guess we’ll never know,” Aly said as she came to a stop to catch her breath.

They stood there breathing heavily for a moment and she could not tell if J.F. was frustrated with her about not finding out if the mysterious figure was a little girl or a little person. Anyway, it did not matter. They were back at the parking lot where they had left his car. His hands were back in his pockets and she slipped hers back in seeking his warmth. Ethan and Jade were still about a hundred yards away. Once again silence engulfed them.

It was a few minutes until J.F. broke the quiet tension.

“Did you notice I was holding my keys instead of your hand?”

It was as if she had been slapped across the face, but she would never let him know. She looked up and saw the cruelty in his eyes. The smirk on his face sent a shiver through her body. And just like that Hyde was back.

“You always do that so I didn’t even notice.”

At that moment Ethan and Jade finally caught up with them. Aly had not realized she was holding her breath until they were in close proximity and she began to feel oxygen in her lungs again. As the four made their way to J.F.’s car she withdrew her hand. Aly pushed her hands deep into her own pockets. She felt her heart stop and her body grow cold.

collaboration

i have had this line stuck in my head for years: “i am a dilapidated house”…with no where to go with it…yet…

so here is my challenge…add on a line or two to help give me direction. i have a feeling something great is going to come from it. let’s collaborate!

“i am a dilapidated house…”