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Ficters Challenge 3
Chief Chesty Forlock
Picture of Argeaux
posted October 10, 2001 12:41 AM


OK, normally these are poetic challenges, but I thought I'd go with some a little different (and hopefully more stretching) this time.

Since this is also a forum for prose, the challenge is for you to write a short prose piece (no more than five paragraphs, but it can be only one).

The piece is to be about a weird experience. It can be something that has actually happened to you, or something completely fictional. You can write in any style you choose - first person, stream of consciousness, etc. EXCEPT for poetry.

Good luck! [Smile]



I accept, even though prose is SO not my thing, you're on horsey girl. [Wink]

My Weird Experience by Sara

I was walking in the grocery store my Dad works at one day when a woman came up to him with a supremely shocked look. "What are you doing here?" she asked, to which my Dad replied "I work here?" The lady's confused look only grew more befuddled as she asked, "Yes but...why?" And for the life of me, I couldn't understand why this strange woman was questioning my father like that or why he was allowing her to.

It was then that she noticed me. "Who is THAT?" she actually pointed at me with this look of complete horror on her face. My Dad proudly responded, "This is my first born." I must say, that poor woman's look of absolute horror is hysterical now, but to a 7 year old, it's devastating. Then the numerous questions began as to how I came to be, who's the mother, why didn't my Dad call her. This whole time, I'd been standing there, rather patiently for a 7 yr. old I must say, when I tugged on my Dad's jacket and asked for it because I was cold. He removed it and it was then that the woman turned the brightest color of scarlet known to man.

She was so mortified, she couldn't speak. My Dad asked what was wrong to which she haltingly replied, "I'm so very sorry. I thought you were my son, you look EXACTLY alike." She had seen his nametag on his shirt when he had taken his jacket off to give it to me. She then took her wallet out and showed us the pictures of her son who was the spitting image of my Dad. They could have been identical twins. She then apologized profusely for the third degree, saying that her son lived in Texas but in another part of the state. That's why she had been so shocked to see my Dad and demanded to know why he worked at the grocery store instead of a huge law firm. And of course, imagine how she must have felt when she saw me there. [Wink] Her son had no children, he didn't even have a steady girlfriend at the time.

Amazing, isn't it? One simple trip to the grocery store with your Dad can suddenly turn into the weirdest thing I'd ever experienced so far in my young life. We never saw that woman again, but I came to find out, that years later when her son got married, he named his first daughter the exact same name my Dad named me. Weird, huh? [Eek!]



I drifted in a sea of unconsciousness. Languishing in the milky blackness of the silence. Buzzing sounds beside my forehead sounded a world away. My nose was dripping blood. I could smell it. Stickiness flowing down my chin and puddling in the hollow under my neck. Congealing into a lump.

Something was pushing me in and out. Limp, I sullied to and fro, a mass of matted hair and numb digits. Sleep held me loosely in its grip. Dreams evaporated. Nightmares condensed. Even they were far beyond my comprehension. The haze of unknowing settling over all.

Suddenly, my lungs sucked in sweet coldness. Air. Fresh. Piercing to the depths of my being. Filling me with life. The shock brought me back from the nether regions, which now seemed so colourless.

I hacked and spluttered. Arms pulled me upright as I stared into the eyes of one I never knew. Until now. She saw into the very core of me.

"We thought we'd lost you," was all she said. It was enough.


Siren Bard

A Good Day to Die
by Kate Quinn

It was late. I had just finished eating partially burnt bacon and eggs and was now finishing my lukewarm coffee as I chatted to Jeff on the phone about my life and what I would do now that I no longer lived with him. It was wierd....he sounded good today, not the desperate pleading pressuring voice I was used to hearing...that voice that wanted me "home" with him, even though that was no longer home to me. I was grateful and relieved that we could talk like this instead of hating each other, but a part of me still felt brain still felt tugged to want to doubt my convictions, the truth I'd come to know. My life was not being lived to the fullest extent. It simply could not have gone on in the home that was actually Jeff's, my mind being worked like a hunk of clay, to fit his teachings, his way of thinking life should be.
THe last time I broke up with Jeff, he cursed me. "You are not anymore Pagan," he snarled as an answer to my question, "Even if you don't love me anymore, will you still love me as a Pagan?" Now, I look on myself as the previous victim of a control freak, not in any way the failed student of Wicca who left her teacher in return for his selfless gift of instructing me. Romance and education cannot mix like that. I thought of this as I ate my burned eggs on January 31st, 1996. I thought of this as the train hit me two hours later.
I was late. I had talked to Jeff for too long, and now I had only ten minutes to get to the train station. A part of me was angry at him, but I knew it was my own fault for letting him have his way and keep me on the phone. And when I ran across the tracks, I could hear him in my head, calling me stupid for letting the rule of "DON"T BE LATE FOR WORK!" override my good sense. The train hit me and I was sandwiched between a raised platform and the train. I had on a backpack which carried everything but the kitchen sink. And yet, in that moment...I felt a strange sense of peace that didn't seem to belong. I was about to die. The train had hit me, and I was about to forgo the great plan I'd made to start really living my life according to my dying under a train and having to move forward.
Well, being Wiccan, I knew that I would move another place. Whatever that place would be, whatever I still had to learn according to the Goddess's teachings, that would be up to Her. I was ready. I said to my cousin Chris, who had only recently moved on to his next plane, "I'll see you in a bit."
Then, I felt the snow on my face.
I was laying underneath the raised platform which I had pushed myself under when the train hit me....unable to breathe, I lay there and waited...then instinctively, I took a breath...and air forced its way into my lungs. Her Idea. According to was not a good day to die.

The doctor said it was seven fractured ribs...and a bruised shoulder where the train hit me. I was given a plastic tube to breathe through and practice getting air into my lungs around the ribs, so that pneumonia did not set in. In two weeks, I was back at work, singing to the class where I modelled, on request. What an odd existance, yet....I wouldn't trade it for the world.
Five months later, I met my husband, my soulmate. He too had nearly died, by his own hand, recently. Now, he wants nothing more than to live every day fully with me. What a strange, gorgeous story the Goddess is writing of my life.
And Jeff? He's still taking his photos, singing, writing or whatever he does....and perhaps he has found a new any case, I wish him all the best of peace. I had to sever connections with him soon after my near-death experience...he didn't believe me when I said the Goddess was with me--even after I said I felt Her touch.
It's hard when relationships end, but harder when the truth is questioned and lies are chosen over loneliness. In any case, I sent him my blessing.
Today, I still work where I did before, but something is different. I no longer talk on the phone before I have to leave for work.
And I haven't been hit by anything since. Because...until She Says day for me is a good day to die.
--Kate QUinn, (c)2001



The Dark

When I awoke I was lying in the tub with the shower spraying the room. There was loud music on and I couldn't yell to my husband over it. I crawled over the edge of the tub and pulled down the curtains as I went. I didn't even care if the water was still on. All I wanted to do was get to my bed and get warm under the covers.

My husband came in moments later. He was yelling about the water everywhere and then took one long look at me and said he was calling 911.

I couldn't move at all. The cops walked around the room suspiciously, eyeing the counters of our dressers. Marty had put clothes on me, my favorite T-shirt with a hand painted parrot on the front which was a gift from my sister, and my favorite shorts. Everything stuck to my wet body as it went on, but he was determined not to let me get taken out of there nude.

I had been feeling lightheaded ever since we left the beach that day. On the way home I ate ice cream to wake up but it didn't help. Walking up the steps I could feel my stomach sway like a bowl of Jell-O. I must have begun to bleed in the shower. Though I don't remember.

In the ambulance I lost all consciousness. The bag that they had put on my legs wasn't bringing my blood pressure up. It was spiking and falling as they took me down the stairs in a stretcher. There was a girl with the bluest eyes looking down at me. Her hair was long and blond, falling over her shoulders as she checked the pressure gauge.

Everything went black suddenly and I was aware that I was there, but unable to wake up or move. My eyes looked out into a sea of blackness. I wondered if I was dead and if I was ever coming back. It was a frightening thing to see this blackness, and I didn't understand why I was so alone there. I thought about may father who has gone on before me, and others that I might meet. But I wasn't sure if I would ever meet anyone.

I heard her voice first. Then I felt the stabbing pain. I was bleeding internally and the blood was filling up my abdomen. I later learned that I had an ectopic pregnancy and it had ruptured. The pressure pants had brought me back to life but it would be hours before I would be lying on the operating table getting my body repaired.

It was the blackness I saw that day that changed my life. Though it didn't happen all at once I knew I had to find out if I could know God, and if there was a way to live my life that would not leave me feeling so alone. I don't know if I will ever face such an experience again, but I am completely assured that I would not have to face something like that alone again.

Thank you, Jesus.



The Horse

The rider's saddle flared from his sides like stunted wings. The horse, a palomino, white with black markings, bucked and ran across the farmer's field. He was mad at the world. He was free. The blue and white sky was his only backdrop.

The truck pulled up gingerly and the man got out. The horse feigned in his direction and then bolted, getting up speed as he neared the road and my car. I was in line of antique cars that had flanked me as I returned home. I followed the Corvette, the Jag lagged behind. In a moment the horse appeared in my rear view mirror, his back legs sliding out from under him. Those powerful legs strained and he was up again and trotting toward me. There we were, Jag, Horse, Caravan, and Corvette, all in a line- looking good.

A woman jumped from her SUV going the other direction and held up her arms. The horse saw the woman and instinctively calmed down. People emerged from the horse stable across the street, their faces drawn and worried. I drove on. I didn't see the Jag again, or the horse.


Grand Poobah Seraphin


You ever notice how someone's eyes can cause you to do things you never thought you would. Cause you to smile, cause you to cry. Sometimes they cause you to laugh and pretend it's fine when you see them holding someone else in their gaze, yet inwardly, you hate yourself.

His eyes were like that last week. I'd been wearing an outfit that everyone liked. It was one of the few coordinated ensembles that I owned, and it brought out the color in my face and the honey blonde streaks in my hair. I wore it when I needed a little pick-me-up. A little encouragement to tell me that I was still pretty. As I strolled into the auditorium, he caught up with me and spoke. "You look really nice today." In my confusion and shock I found my brain still working and I managed to utter something like a thank-you. He never spoke to me. He wouldn't give me the time of day before. What had changed? He went ahead of me and I breathed again. Until a few minutes later.

"I just can't take my eyes of you. You look so nice today." He said it again. He couldn't take his eyes off me. It sounded like him. His mouth was open and he was speaking. But this was the kind of thing he said to other girls. Not to me. Never to me. And despite the fact that what he said sounded like a lie, I found truth in his statements. His eyes were sincere.

It went on like that. I wore skirts more and more often. Took more care in choosing my outfits. The thing that made me do all this were his eyes. Those compliments could have come from some other boy and I wouldn't have thought twice about it. But those other boys didn't have his eyes. They were light blue and sometimes they turned green when he spoke to me, and they were like glimpsing heaven. They were almost all that sustained me.

I wore a green dress the next day. And what he said to me almost made me cry. "You look beautiful." He's said. "Your dress matches your eyes." He'd mentioned my eyes. He'd taken attention to them. Finally. If I never recieved another flattering compliment my entire life, what he'd said might be enough. Because for once, he'd pointed out my eyes. No one ever noticed my eyes. And he had. That made it enough for me.

-Seraphin (jennifer k)



*sheepish grin* I told Argy there was no way I was gonna be doing this challenge, 'cause prose has never ever been my thing -- in fact, I've never done prose... But... sitting here, I decided to try and think of a weird encounter I had with someone, and I remembered this girl about my age from a few years ago...and how I also found the encounter very weird, especially since it's stuck with me since then in my head. Just a curious little thing to me... And uh...if it sucks, I told you I don't do prose. [Razz]


"Only One Moment"

It was only one moment, but it was enough to make me remember from then on. It was the way she looked at me. I didnt say a word, neither did she. My mother paid for her sandwich- gave the money to the employee beside this girl. Completely oblivious were the two as she stared at me.

Unsure about this one gaze, I fidgeted and turned my eyes away from her, but when my eyes returned, there she was, still looking. I could feel her looking into me, and I knew she saw something in me that I didnt want her to know. She knew something about me that, at the time, no one knew... And I didnt have to say a word. I think she was able to see it in my eyes...because of the sheer attention she paid them.

Walking with my mother to a table, we sat down as she ate her sandwich, talking about mundane things. And everytime that I glanced up back over to the counter, I saw this girls eyes still peering at me. She watched me with a tilted head, either her arms crossed or her hands getting food for a customer. I didnt understand the attention she was paying me -- I wasnt looking extravagant by any means in my worn pair of jeans, old t-shirt, and my hair pulled back in a ponytail. No one else had given me a second glance -- neither had she, but her reason was different, for she just kept her one glance on me.

I wondered why she continued to watch me, and I had a feeling of an invasion of privacy as she did so. Have you ever felt someone knowing you just by watching you? That maybe, just maybe, theyve known you before in another time, another place? And this one simple encounter is an acknowledgment of that lost time? Thats how it felt. I couldnt decide whether I liked it or not. I didnt know how to take it, how to feel, whether I should say a word to her or not. But...I chose not to. My mother and I stood, threw away our food, and began to walk out of the shop. Before leaving, I took one more glance back at the mysterious girl, and still her eyes were upon me. I wondered what she saw as a twinkle entered her eye...and I walked out the door.

It was only a moment, of someone Im sure Ill never see again, but a moment I havent forgotten.
Posts: 5341 | Location: Oz | Registered: 22 June 2003Report This Post
Chief Chesty Forlock
Picture of Argeaux
posted Hide Post

The alarm clock buzzed. I reached over and tried to flip it off, but my arm had forgotten how to act. It flopped usely, and hit the beside table. Hard. The pain shocked me awake. I tried to turn over, but my head rolled down onto the bed in an awkward position. Groggily I tried to make sense of what was happening to me. I had lost complete control of my body, and I was home by myself.

Then I remembered that the curtain company was sending someone around to put up a new drape for me on the back door of our house. How was I supposed to open the door for the tradesperson? Panicking, I wobbled over to the edge of the bed, and rolled on to the floor, hitting the carpet with a dull thud. I had to get help. Fast.

Scraping myself along the carpet, because my legs were functioning about as well as my arms, I pulled myself to the spare room, where my mobile phone was charging. I punched in the unlocking code. Unsucessfully. Three times. Of course, this locked the phone's SIM card, making it absolutely useless. I dragged myself in desperation to the front room, and was able to pull myself up the wall and knock the phone off its cradle. The hard bit was gonna be dialing 000.

Painstakingly I managed to put my finger in the last slot on the phone, and turned it all the way around. Somehow I repeated this manoevre three times. The person on the other end of the phone asked me how they could help. It was only then that I learned that my facial muscles weren't working well enough for me to actually talk. I tried to say my name, but all that came out of my mouth was a low moan.

Then my doorbell rang. It was the curtain company. Curtains for me.



Sara - that story was so cool! I kept wondering what was going on with that woman, but then it all made sense in the end. She must have been as freaked out as you and your Dad were!

Siren Bard - is that true? If so, it's a frightening story. I'm glad that you made it out alive, and that it led you to your soulmate. Good story telling.

Nanzar - looks as though life-changing stories were the order of the day, for this challenge. Another freaky one. I had no idea what you were going through, when you woke up. I had to keep reading, coz I wanted to find out.

Nanzar Part 2 - I liked this one, too. A little more fancifully written. A horse convoy? Very cute!

Seraphin - I like your writing style. You took such a small incident and made it fascinating. I loved the way that eyes worked like a unifying theme to hold your whole piece together.

Gabber - I think you should try your hand at prose more often. This was superb! Now I think I'm as intrigued as you are about how that person looked right through ya. Did that really happen?

Thanks all, for having a go at this challenge. I know that prose isn't our forte. Hope ya had fun! [Smile]



Argy- Thanks for your comments. I have to say that I agree with all of them concerning the other works as well. Your work has quite an edge to it too. I figure you got punched out by someone in the first story but never saw it coming? The second one is scarier, what's going on there? Is this a medical problem? If so I hope you are well now.

For a group that doesn't do this very often I think we all did very good!

Great challenge Argy!



*flexes her fingers and gets started on the Challenge replies* [Big Grin]

Sara -- *laughs* Gotta love ya, that was enjoyable...hehe, I had to grin when you asked your dad for his jacket 'cause ya were cold, for obvious reasons. But that was just funny -- I can imagine the horror the woman musta been going through. Hehehe, and that is funny that both the son and your dad ended up with the same name for their daughter...the irony keeps coming. Pretty good baby, I enjoyed it. Love you.

Argy (1) -- Ooh...I like...I really like... I've never had a near-death experience that severe luckily, but that was just very cool, very descriptive...made me feel like I was there in it with you, I could imagine what all was going on. I especially liked the last bit about looking up into the woman's eyes and how she then saw into the core of who you are -- I've heard that before, that that one look when someone comes back can feel like I found that very interesting. Very good, honey.

Kate -- Hey honey,it's good to see you around first of all. I really liked this...especially for the message behind it...about not letting others control you or your life to the point of that it messes your life up in ways -- and yours being obviously an extreme way. How ya need to take hold of the reins and make your own life by your own rules...and how when ya let go of Jeff, that happened for you...and then soon after, your soulmate came into your life. Very cool, thanks for sharing. {{{{Kate}}}}

Nanzar (1) -- Ya know...ya gotta love how two people on here can take the same kind of idea and say it so differently from each other...that's what I love. I loved the way you worded your experience, and even how you took notice of small things, like the woman's blue eyes and hair before you passed out... And I also loved that the experience made you turn inward and search within yourself (and outside of yourself) for something more, something to help you feel not so alone...that you were able to find God in your searching, that's awesome. :-)

Nanzar (2) -- Hehe, that's cute! Totally unexpected, the story itself, and totally cute!

Seraphin -- Oooh, I like...mainly because I have a thing for eyes too. There was something that you said that I was just like "right on" -- about his eyes, how he had those kinda eyes that are just so pretty, any compliments you'll take a mile as compared to others. Back in high school, I had a guy friend like that where we nearly dated, but it was because of his eyes...LOL, I can be honest! If he hadn't had those pretty eyes, I prolly wouldn't have paid his flirting or his attention to me nearly as much attention as I did. So I got that, the idea of how that can sustain you, if you have a thing for eyes of course. :-) But I especially liked the ending...of how he noticed your eyes (I remember you mentioning something about someone noticing your eyes in a poem recently)...'cause I'm the type of person who wants someone to notice my eyes. The first time it happened was in junior high, a girl I was kinda friends with put me down for best eyes (and she won the best eyes category ironically)...then I was told I had pretty eyes twice in high school...and then most recently, Sara noticed my eyes and said something about 'em. So I understand that want for someone to notice your eyes like that...that they would be paying that much attention -- 'cause when someone says something about your eyes, it basically means they're really looking and maybe even kinda studying them...and that's awesome in and of itself. *sheepish grin* Anyways, I just talked about a topic I'm really into, so that happens. Thanks for sharing, I enjoyed it. :-)

Argy (2) -- Huh...that was very interesting. Did that really happen? If so, did ya find out what was wrong? Did ya get help? LOL, don't mind me and my questions, ya just left me really curious, especially with the curtains're still very good at this descriptive thing, I really like that about your prose pieces in here, honey. Thanks for sharing this one too. :-)

Oh, and thank you regarding my prose... *sheepish smile* ya think I was able to pull the prose thing off then, huh? Never done it before, so I wouldn't really know. But thank you very much for the compliment, honey. :-) Heh, oh yeah, that girl had me intrigued alright...I didn't know why it was that she could just kinda see right into me like that. Oh, and yes, this really did happen- it happened a couple of years ago. But I remember wondering if there was something more to her because I'd never experienced that before -- someone actually seeing me, let alone someone seeing me without even knowing me. That just kinda blew me away at the time... But of course, shy Keri just walked out of the place (what? I really am shy, no really, I'm serious, so I never found out more. But see what I mean? Still has me intrigued to this day, one little moment. Made me wonder what all her staring was about....because it's weird -- she could see into me, but...I couldn't see into her -- ya know what I mean? That made it even more weird. If I was seeing into her too, heck yeah, I woulda gotten up and went over and talked to her, but since I wasn't...I was wondering why she could see. So yeah, definitely still has me like "Hmmmm..." to this day. But thanks for the reply really. :-)




My second piece was about a diabetic hypo that I had, once. So yes, it really happened to me.

But I was actually able to let the curtain hanger in, and he was able to give me some sugar which brought me back, before the ambulance showed up.

It was all very weird.


Opera Xena

Heyyyyy, everyone!
It's good to be here, I'm sorry I can't post as often as I used's not for not thinking of you guys. But I am involved up to my nose in singing and performances...hence my new nickname "Opera Xena." Anyway, I really am loving what I'm reading's all very moving and enjoyable. Yes, Argeaux, that happened to me; I'd never written about it before. Glad you enjoyed it. It was very frightening at the time, for sure! What happened to you sounds frightening as well, man...glad you're okay now. Excellent storytelling on your end as per usual.

((((GABBER)))) That would totally freak me out, someone constantly staring at me while I'm eating--or anytime! Yikes! It's cool that you could be so philosophical about it...wondering what she could see in you, and exploring yourself as a result. It was beautifully written as is all your work. ANd thank you for your reply to mine. Hope all is well with you!

{{{SARA}}} Hey woman! I liked your story too, particularly the little suspense breaker when you asked your dad for his jacket because you were cold...and his name appeared to that woman and she realized she'd made a mistake. It was great. Miss ya, sweetheart! Hope all is well.

Seraphin: Really cool story about the eyes. I like the way they tied everything together...and the way they came up in the end when he complimented your eyes. Really awesome work.

Nanzar: I love your writing style...that was a very moving piece about the really did keep me on the edge of my seat with wondering what it was until the end. And your second piece was great with the horse, the jag, the caravan and corvette all in a line looking good. Very effective.

Well, gotta run for now, but I'll be around to post as much as possible...meantime, I'll be here in spirit! [Smile]


Opera Xena / Siren Bard / Warrior Priestess 9

The Meeting at the Opera Rehearsal
by Kate Quinn, (c) 2001

She walked into the company's rehearsal space, an Episcopal church, carrying her bike under her arm. SHe felt like a sweaty slob. There she was, in fatigues, a pair of stretch pants with green shorts and a red polo shirt, hair tied back in a bun. There was the prize student of Mrs. Lidia Rossini herself, the artistic director of the Chiaro Scuro Opera Company--dressed for success in a gorgeous business suit with every hair in place. She had someone with her that was also dressed smartly...both of them wore makeup which Fiona did not wear. Fiona did not loathe makeup, but she was not in the habit of taking time for it...she didn't feel it was important enough. Yet here she was, in an OPERA company now, and feeling inadequate in her black stretchpants, green shorts, and red polo more and more business suits and even men in ties came filing in.
Ah well, thought Fiona. Never mind all this trivial nonsense. Time to sing!

Who is she? he wondered. There she was, making her way to the soprano section, her gorgeous legs standing out to him and what a body she had! That tights, green shorts and a red polo looked so good on her...she had such great taste in clothes! Who was she? John made up his mind to find out before rehearsal was over.
Fortunately, rehearsal had not yet begun, as the accompaniest was late. This left room for the people to congregate, sit on the couches if they wanted to, and talk. That was the first place that the woman went, with Tom, who sat next to John in the bass section. What was this about? Who was Tom in her life? John went over as inconspicuously as he could, and sat down across from her, looking at a spot just over her head. Would she notice him?

Who was this cutie pie? Fiona felt she had to speak to him. Was he a tenor or a bass? "Hello," she said. "ARe you a tenor?"
"No, I'm actually a bass," the man said. Very polite.
"What's your name?" Fiona asked.
"Oh, my name is John Randolph, what's yours?"
He even stood up and extended his hand to be shaken.
"Oh!" Fiona exclamed. "You're an art model aren't you? I'm a model too! Lidia told me you were an art model."
John smiled, and his eyes seemed to light up. "Yes, I am," he said. "But it doesn't pay the rent...I wish I could get more work."
"Oh, I can help you with pays my rent," Fiona laughed. "if you want, I'll give you some numbers before you leave tonight."
"Oh, that would be great! Thank you!" John said, so sincerely, Fiona felt like she was in another world. How many people were that sincere in real life?

Rehearsal began. They went through Mascagni's "Caveleria" choruses and Verdi's "Il Trovatore" Anvil chorus. Then...they moved on to the Desert song by Romberg.
John sang the solo: "My Desert is waiting, dear come there with me...I'm longing to teach you love's sweet melody...I'll sing a dream song for you...painting a picture for two..."
What, thought Fiona, a beautiful voice. Like rich chocolate, and full of spirit and soul.


Opera Xena

The Meeting at the Opera Rehearsal(con't)
By Kate Quinn

"So how do you like the company?" John asked.
"It's great," Fiona said, her eyes seeming to sparkle in the dim if she really meant what she was saying.
John was more than a little disappointed. Not in Fiona, but the fact that someone else was being sucked in, yet again, by Chiaro Scuro. All that company did was repeat the same old musical selections over and over again...and use the same singers as soloists, glorifying Lidia's favorite students.
John swallowed bile. He was still trying to impress Fiona, and such dark thoughts didn't belong in this atmosphere.
"How long have you been involved with the company?" Fiona asked.
"Oh--seven years, since it began," John said.
They continued to make small talk as Tom walked on inconspicuously next to them. He did not drive a car, and John was always willing to take him wherever he needed to go. John was good like that.
John was also resentful, but Tom would never know. All he wanted was to be alone with Fiona...and save her from the jowls of the company. He would soon enough...she'd open her eyes in time. John could sense Fiona was smart underneath those starry blue eyes.
Suddenly, John was kicked between the eyes. It happened with no warning, and no prelude.
Fiona had been talking about her bike, and the times she'd had bikes stolen from her. "One time," she said, "my boyfriend's bike was stolen AND his fishing some guy that walked right into our trap door and up the stairs and out of the living room! That was scary."
CRAP! thought John, biting his inner lip. She's already taken!

Why didn't I say "ex?" Fiona thought later. But somehow it felt right. Give it time, she thought. See where this is going before you leap into something.



Ooooo, interesting story, Opera Xena!

I can't WAIT for the next installment.

Will Fiona tell John she is unattached?

Will John figure it out for himself.

I'll stay tuned ...



Oops, sorry!

That last post was by me.

I forgot to take Ame off my computer log in, before I wrote it.

*sheepish grin*



Kate-I think I should call you "Soap Opera Xena!" Hey nice story, the descriptions of the people really drew me in. That's something my storeis could use more of. I have to say I thought John was oging to be some kind of cat thief when you began that part

Looking forward to more...
Posts: 5341 | Location: Oz | Registered: 22 June 2003Report This Post
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