A very simple man, he does not have much in his glovebox (also because the glovebox is fairly tiny, unable to hold everything that is not a necessity). An owner's manual and license for his grey Mercedes Benz, signed with his name, encompassed in a book of black leather. Typical. A titanium flashlight, a few scratches and dents here and there. "For dark and dangerous situations," he often says. At first glance, there is nothing more to be found in the glovebox, until one decides to dig in deeper, past the flashlight, underneath the owner's manual. Laid at the very bottom and deepest, furthest back area of the felt-lined compartment, is a family photograph. Used only for reminiscing about childhood, nothing more.
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Oh my goodness! I forgot to spit out my gum this morning! What will Miss say? I'm gonna get into trouble...they'll call my parents...I'll be expelled for breaking a petty school rule...did I just call a school rule petty? I take that back, I TAKE THAT BACK! Alright, Trish, it's going to be fine, just breathe in, breathe out, don't chew. Don't chew.
"Miss Evans!" Trish freezes in mid-walk, one foot inside her English classroom. Oh no. Oh no. She totally caught me moving my piece of gum in my mouth. Oh no, oh no... "Trish Evans!" Trish walks into the classroom cautiously and asks, "Yes, Miss?" "I just wanted to tell you that your essay was exceptionally well written. Very nice job!" Trish lets out a breath of relief. "Thank you." Just as she sits down at her assigned seat, Trish accidentally chews down on her gum. Miss' eyes, as sharp as a hawk's, immediately noticed the action and called her out. "Trish, are you...chewing gum? In my classroom?" Trish gulped. "No, ma'am, it's just a mint." She had never lied to her teacher before - this was a first. Guilt immediately filled her throat. "Trish...you're a good student. Don't lie to me, dear. Go spit that gum out and come back, please." The lies, Trish could feel them bubbling out of her mouth, uncontrollable. "But I'm not chewing any gum!" Miss was mad, Trish knew it. What have I done? Miss was now walking towards her, the entire classroom staring. Trish Evans, the superstar student getting into trouble, and lying? That never happened. Never. "Miss Evans, i would like to speak with you after class on your attitude. But first, go spit out your gum. Right now, please." Trish slumped and felt newly formed tears starting to well up in her eyes as she slowly walked to the washroom, locking herself in a stall. Ghosts That Haunt You
She looks in the mirror. She can't bear it any more. No wonder all her classmates hate her, she is a know-it-all and looks like it too. Brace face, four eyes, knobbly knees, flat...Amanda hates herself. The mirror shatters, shards of razor-edged glass fall to the floor. For a moment she stares at the broken glass - her own broken body. She sees the person that everybody despises; she sees the person that makes her parents proud. She sees the person, weak, who cannot stand up for herself; she sees the person, strong, who does not let the taunts disable herself. She grabs a piece of glass and plunges it into her heart, only to realize her heart is diamond. Clear of wounds, she takes the glass and rests it in her hand. Either it will penetrate her veins or do no harm. Either way, she is ready. Amanda is loathed, despised, shunned. Amanda is loved. She knows that; everyone tells her so. Closing her eyes, Amanda falls to the floor, waiting for where her body will carry her. Hands held, frolicking. "I love you," she said to him. "I love you back," he replied. Together they sauntered into the forest, the place where they first met. She was tickled with joy, and he struck by love. Clasped in their hands, their wedding bands: till death do us part. Running across the plain fields, blades of grass underneath their wrinkled feet, the lovers giggled as they melted into the earths. The grave digger falls to peace. - bad ending "It was an accident, I swear!" But Frank was no longer here, They had found his shovel on the ground, mud covering the handle. The inspectors asked no more questions, the case was closed. The grave digger had fallen to death; simply stated, he had dug his own grave. RIP Frank. Amanda was loved. She knew that; everyone told her so. Top of her class, a hard-working and over-achieving student she was. Her teachers praised her for every piece of work (the "exemplar student"), her parents marvelled at their creation. Everyone loved Amanda. That is, everyone except for people her age. Amanda was loathed, despised, shunned. She knew that; everyone told her so. Poor Amanda; every time her work was graded with the red stamp of high approval - outstanding, A+! - the kids in her year would make it a habitual occurrence to take her down in any way possible. Poor Amanda; she came home every day, as early as possible, where her parents would put her up on a pedestal - a prize - not noticing her tear-streaked face or her looks of despair or even the holes in her stockings or her missing shoes. The kids at school had stolen them from her and threw them to God-knows-where. Amanda had to walk home in her socks. Poor Amanda.
"Honey, can you please walk the dog? I'm busy at the moment."
"Busy? With what? Don't you even have time for family anymore?" "I'm sorry I haven't been around much, but I really need to do this." "Fine. I'll take the dog. Seems like Daddy doesn't want you anymore, does her Butterscotch? Let's get you on your leash and go find some handsome boys, shall we? "Ha! Handsome boys! For an ugly bitch like her? I don't think so." "Don't you dare call her that! Butterscotch is a very classy lady, aren't you?" "If Butterscotch is so classy, then why is she so keen on meeting new boys? And dressed up so nicely too." "Can a girl not look nice when she's taking a walk in the park? Can a girl not look nice just because she wants to?" "Oh yes, look all nice to go court new dogs. As Butterscotch's father, don't you think that I have a say in who she is going to court?" "Butterscotch is not going to court anybody! She just wants to say hello to some new boys in the neighbourhood, that's all." "And why on earth would she want to do that when her father is so handsome?" "It doesn't matter if you're handsome or not; she gets bored always sitting around in the house, you being too busy for her." "Me? Busy? Not always. She's just been too busy chasing tails with neighbourhood dogs to notice when I am available." "Why are you blaming her, Frank? What has she ever done to you?" "Oh, I don't know...maybe become some other dog's bitch?" "Excuse me! I have not..." "Ahh...the lady confesses. Classic move. Bravo." "...I can explain..." "No need to explain. Butterscotch, you go for your walk with Mommy, you go court some other bad boys. But once you do, you will never be welcomed back." "It's all a misunderstanding. Please, listen to me!" "No more talking, Butterscotch...and give me the dog, I'm keeping the dog." "I remember you told me your mother used to visit this place a lot when she was younger. Why is that?"
"I think it had something to do with her glass sculptures...I'm not sure. Dad said she used to go there all the time when she was sad. So much the owner knows her." "Let's go in an check it out." "Hi ladies, what can I do for you?" "Umm...I was just wondering if you happen to know a Theresa McClain? My father told me she used to come here all the time and that she was really good friends with the owner." "Oh yes, Theresa! She would always come visit. She was particularly fond of that swan over there in the corner. But she could never afford to buy it...sorry, I need to take a call. Feel free to look around." "Mom must have really liked this...hey, come over here. Help me put it in my purse, quickly!" "Are you sure your mother would be happy with you?" "Whatever. It's just something small I want to try once. Please, don't break it. Or all of this will be for nothing." "No, no! Don't do it! I'm not going to be a part of this, goodbye." "You're such a wimp! Take this! I think I hear footsteps. Quickly!" "No! I won't let you do this!" "Shit! You broke it! Now what? I can't afford it!" "Then you shouldn't have tried to steal it in the first place!" "Shut up, shut up! The store owners, shit man! Here they come!" "Hi Tommy!"
"Hello big sister. What's that in your ears?" "Oh, it's something big people use to listen to other big people's hearts. Daddy told me so." "Ooh! Lemme try, lemme try! Can I please?" "No no Tommy, it's for big people only. Come here...hmm...your heart is very fast! I think you're sick! Say ahh..." "Ahh..." "Okay good boy! I need to give you a needle now. It won't hurt. Show me your tummy. If I put it here then your tummy will feel better." "Sister, what's that bottle?" "Oh, Daddy says it's medicine. It makes people feel better too. Here, give me your tummy again. If I put his on here as well your tummy will stop hurting." "But my tummy doesn't hurt, sister..." "If I say it does then it does. I want to be a doctor when I get bigger!" "Hi Joe. Guess what, I have a secret that I need to tell you right now in the Fattore Commons before I forget."
"Hi John. Okay John. Let us take our backpacks which are on the ground right now and walk briskly to the Fattore Commons before you forget this big secret of yours." "And thus, Joe and John briskly walk to the Fattore Commons during their spare and sit on the couches that are so very dusty from footprints of people who don't care about things." "Oh, I wonder why John is so upset about these chairs and couches and benches of different colours?" "I don't know, Joe, I don't know. I am very mad. Let me go grab a joint to smoke." "John goes to smoke a...wait a minute! What did you just say?" Hey, Joe! Can you, uh, come with me to the Fattore Commons? Right now, please? I need to talk to you about something. Quickly, before I forget or before I change my mind." "Sure thing! Just let me grab my bag first." "Quickly! Before people come..." "Alright, I'm coming." "People need to stop stepping all over these chairs!" "I know right." "I mean, how difficult is it to take care of things? And why are there even footprints on the chair. What do they do, stand on em?" "John, relax! Don't make a scene! What did you want to tell me?" "Mess just bothers me so much." "OCD..." "Shut up! I'm not OCD. Shut the fuck up!" "Alright, alright, you're not OCD. Just...chill, man!" "I need it...I need it right now!" "What? Need what?" "Come outside with me. Come on! Quickly!" "Okay, we're outside now, what do you need?" "Grab it for me. Back pocket. Get it!" "Alright, alright. I got it...wait...John...what is this...?" "Just give it to me! I need it!" "No, John...I can't. I can't allow you to take this. Listen to me. I'm your friend. Don't do this. Don't go over to the dark side, bro." "You can't stop me. I'm already there. I'm already addicted." (One character is written like a snake sliding through the grass; dialogue on the topic of war)
"So...what do you think about war?" "Hmm...I'm not sure actually. I don't know much about it." "Has this straight A student been sleeping during history?" "What do you mean?" "You see, the professor told us many facts about wars." "Did he? When?" (One character is a lispy beauty pageant contestant, and the other is a 5-year old physicist; dialogue on the topic of university) "Greetings, lady. I am your new partner in crime. Pleased to make your acquaintance." "I'm thorry, but what ith thith midget doing in my room?" "Excuse me? This midget is in fact the smartest kid on the whole entire planet, which is Earth." "You're jutht a kid. Come on. Ugh. You better thtay in your own thtuff, I can't afford to break a thweat or get a rath or anything that makth me look like thomeone who ithn't pretty right before the pageant." "Oh, don't you worry. With the correct amount of lighting on your skin in the right angle, nobody will notice your imperfections." Throughout my life, I have been to many fantastic restaurants, but there are three that really resonate in my mind as my favourites. The first is the only one of the three that is located in my city. Sadly, it is now closed. The second is a steakhouse, Café Lux, where I first experienced their sweet potato mash and steak that melts in your mouth. This one is located in the U.S. The last , and the main character of this story, is...I shall not reveal its name, but it is a small restaurant in Paris which my two childhood friends and I found via Trip Advisor on our international French course there. We spent a good half hour finding the location of the restaurant - taking the Métro, searching on foot using a map of Paris. It was our second last night in the beautiful and romantic city, and it was one of my friends' (let's call her "A") birthday, so the other friend (let's call her "B") and I decided to treat "A" to a nice dinner. Walking into very warm hues of reds and oranges, we sat down at a small table where nearby, the restaurant's dog lay sleeping on the stairs that led to nowhere. All three of us ordered very different foods: "B" - she tried escargot for the first time but didn't end up liking it that much. "A" and I tried the pasta that came with it thought - that was good! She also ordered a mille-feuille of caramelized apples and grilled chicken breast, with a side plate of scalloped potatoes. "A" - some kind of fish (I don't remember it that well because I don't have a photo of it). Me - a plate of scallops (they were huge!) on slices of zucchini in an herb-oil sauce. In the centre, a mound of herb and garlic mashed potato. The whole entrée was sprinkled with pistachio bits. For dessert, we shared 3 small cups of mousse - chocolate, coffee, and vanilla. The food's quality and taste were great - one of the most delicious meals I've ever had. But what was the most memorable was that my two friends and I shared our efforts in searching for the place online as well as on food, and it was a nice dinner with friends I have known for my whole life. We planned it out ourselves and this experience made us feel very grown up and independent. I will also never forget my mistake of ordering orange juice, which turned out to cost $6...needless to say that was the most expensive orange juice I have ever had.
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Authori am just an ordinary teenage girl. my name and whereabouts are unimportant. this is my story. all written work is original unless credited. Archives
June 2014
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