Journal-#1 (Image Into Story)

She could feel it, him, he was just on the other side of everything, like a dark cloud just over the hill. If she were to squint her eyes tight enough they would soon reopen to his face casting down on her, she his little lamb. His hands would reach down, strong and calloused, and hold her cheek. She would wobble on the tips of her bare feet, her ankles running from out the bottom of her lace dress. She would swim in the fabric, wishing to be free of it so that she and he could be even closer.

She waited. She held her eyes closed for all the moments she could tolerate, praying for her effort to not be in vain. She opened. The room was still dull and dark, the only light pouring through the window over looking the grass land for miles beyond the house. The wallpaper still peeled like irritated skin, begging to be relieved from what it cling to. Her fingers traced the muted patterns of odd shaped stars and x’s. To her there was no beauty in this room; there was no potential for beauty, not unless he was there. She could only be beautiful in his arms.

She took the handkerchief from the window sill and held it up. She paced across the dusty floor and into the center of the room. It was as if she was in the center of a ballroom with no music of partner. The handkerchief hung limp in her hand as she held it up. She was reminded of a magic trick she had seen long ago. The magician, all decked out in a top hat as high as the ceiling and mustache waxed like the arms of a clock, would hold up a handkerchief like the one she held and bring it back down. When he did a dove appeared in his hand. She copied the magician’s motions, but nothing appeared. She held it up and down, again and again, only stirring the dusty floor. She held it up to throw the cloth when she noticed something. The light pouring through the window had created a shadow on the white. A round nose, messy hair, she could see this face. It was him.

Journal-#1(Want)

“Are you reading more of that junk?” Barbra’s father said as he gazed at her book.

“It’s not junk.” She whispered.

“What’s that?” He asked, standing up from his chair. He stepped towards her looking down at her like she was tiny crabgrass in his lawn. “I would like a little more respect from my daughter.”

Barbra hugged her paperback to her chest, as if it could sink into her chest and shield her heart. “It’s about Cleopatra.”

“Who?” He asked his face filled with genuine confusion.

“I think she was a whore,” added Barbra’s mother who was staring sedately out the window.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” her father said.

Barbra gulped. “She wasn’t. She was smart. She lived in Egypt.”

Her father snorted. “Egypt. What’s so smart about Egypt? They worshiped cats!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” whispered Barbra.

“What?” He asked.

“You don’t,” her voice was getting louder; “you don’t know anything! Egypt is beautiful, Cleopatra was beautiful.” Her voice was back to a whisper. “Neil was beautiful.”

“Not this again,” He mother slammed her coffee cup on the window sill.

“It’s true.” Barbra stamped her foot. “I’m going to go to Egypt someday and if I come back and worship cats then you’ll have to deal with that! If I want to worship cats, I will.” She let her hands fall to her sides, her book no longer protecting her chest. “I’m going to my room.” She ran up the stairs before another word could be said.

Journal-#2 (Using Fear)

The entire front door was blocked by a sea of shoes. Clogs, boots, sneakers, heels, it was enough footwear to start a store. At the base of the staircase was a sea of coats all flopped one on top of the other. Joey slipped his shoes and coat off and threw them with the others. Mari did the same but hesitated before letting her leather coat with brass buttons join the others. Everyone else was already planted in the split kitchen and living room the television was on full blast and the table was lined with food. Mary could feel the hot, stinging smell of beef tacos burn its way up her nose. She longed to be back in the cold air, but she followed Joey, his sweating hand ushering her to the table. He loaded a paper plate and motioned for her to do that same. Mari took a cookie a nibbled on the edge. He wide eyes wandered from person to person. Each was already laughing a schmoozing, the high pitch choir voices in the corner already lost in a song they all knew by heart. Mari could feel her knees sinking lower, as if she could make the floor turn into quicksand and sink through. Joey picked a place at the table and waved her into a chair. She sat, with out any word. Joey was already joining into a conversation, interjecting comments between shoveling in his taco. Mari smiled, as if it too was adding something to the chatter. She tried to add a little comment about their schools winter formal, but her little squeak was lost in a nearby crowds burst of Destiny’s Child. Mari focused her gaze on the patio door, a light flurry of snow peeping white into the night. She thought to alert everyone, but a comment about the weather made her feel old. Instead she listened to Joey and his friends gab on and on about the schools choir tour during winter break. Joey would burst into his solo every so often, his arms spread wide like a proud eagle. Mari smiled at Joey’s joy in his music. He tapped her on the shoulder and told her to join it. She shook her head like a sapling in the wind.

“I couldn’t,” she smiled, “not when everyone else here actually has talent.”

Joey laughed and playfully punched her in the arm. She continued to smile with half her mouth as Joey got up to join the group now singing Frank Sinatra.

Journal-#1 (Matter of Character)

Cora was pouring over her computer like a temperamental tea pot. He fingers clicked wildly across the keyboard so that it sounded like a mini hail storm. The glow of the screen was the only light in the living room, casting shadows on her weary face. She bit down on the tip of her tongue as if she were squeezing out thinking juices.

“Cora?”

Her body shook as if somehow had electrocuted her in the dark. The light flicked on and there stood Pete, the same embarrassed look across his face, his hand folded in front of him, resting against his stomach. His hair had made its way into his face like a black wave of feathers. He smiled with the corner of his mouth, but his eyes looked weak and scared.

“Yes? Can I get you something?” She answered, not acknowledging her previous surprise.

“Well, I just…” His eyes were at the floor, there was a hole forming in the toe of his sock.

Cora stood up and waved him into the kitchen. “I’ll make tea.”

“Cool.” He said with his eyes still not looking up.

Cora began running water into the metal teapot. She reached over and flicked the burner on high.

“So, getting some writing done?” She said with her eyes on the teapot.

“You have a tattoo.” He said.

“What?” Cora’s eyes were now on him. He sat at the table, hands folded in front of him on a placemat. His hair was pushed back, showing off his muddy brown eyes.

Her free hand automatically landed on her back, just were her jeans started. She could feel her shirt had ridded up, exposing a butterfly with a pencil for a body pressed onto her skin.

“College does things to you.” She laughed lightly. She switched the water off before it overflowed out of the pot. Her hand got wet.

“Lost your virginity back then?”

She almost braced herself on the burner. “Excuse me?”

“In college?” He said.

“I don’t think we should be talking about this, Pete.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I…it was just. I say stupid things…when I’m nervous.”

Cora shook her head, unsure what else to do.

“What were you writing? Before I mean.”

“Nothing.”

“You’re into it, aren’t you?” He said.

“Huh?”

“Writing. You always look at other peoples stuff, but in all honesty it’s what you want to do.”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Cora said, racing to the door.

“I saw a rabbit in there once.”

She turned to him. “What?”

“In a crack on the tile above the towel rack, I saw a rabbit. I wrote about him last night.”

“Watch the tea for a moment,” and she disappeared into the entry bathroom.

Journal-#2 (Emptying Pockets)

Character- Cora (Found in her book bag)

*One Gateway laptop around the key board is Lisa Frank stickers.

*Five ballpoint pens, one pen with her name, address, and phone number on it if gold letters, eight mechanical pencils, three highlighters (the colors being lime green, orange, and yellow), four number two pencils

*One Ice Mountain Water bottle with the label halfway peeled off

*A copy of “Alice in Wonderland” with several bookmarks of various shapes and colors sticking out of it

* A Barnes and Noble reseat for the movie “Edward Scissor hands”

*Five mini crunch bar wrappers

*A silver and bronze pocket watch, with a rabbit carving on the inside opposite the clock

*Various smashed post-it notes

*A pocket dictionary

* A lighter

*A tea candle, slightly melted

* Light pink lipstick

*Various paperclips

*A mini stapler

* Pepper spray (in pink)

* A CD with the words “Boogey Time” written in red sharpie

*A dark blue guitar pick

* A spiral notebook labeled “Work for Cora”

*A lime green iPod with white earbuds

*Two water bottle caps

* A bottle of purple glitter

* Five 20 dollar bills

*Five nickels, 18 dimes, 56 quarters, 13 pennies

Journal-#1 (Demand ACTION!)

Dale entered the kitchen to find Cora curled up on the countertop, her knees resting under her chin. The cutting board with onion skins was festering beside her, her lab top and a whirl wind of papers all over the table, the sink filled with dish water going stale and unwanted. She looked up with her bright blue eyes and smiled weakly, brushing back her hair. Dale kicked off his heels and flopped into the chair. He casually moved papers aside so he could rest his feet on the table.

“Relaxed, are we?” He said with a cheesy smile.

“How was your day Dad?” She said eyes lost in the tiled floor.

“Oh nothing special, I got asked out by the pope. He said I had the prettiest shade of lip gloss he’d ever seen.”

“Mhm.” Cora nodded.

Dale sat up, leaning closer to Cora. “And you know what, he said he’d get some cardinals to come with us clubbing and then we’ll have a threesome. Hefty stuff!”

“Sure.”

“You want to come?”

“Sure.” Cora yawned.

Dale shook his head, trying to hold back his snicker. “You love him, don’t you?”

Cora’s face was up and looking directly into Dale’s eyes. “What?”

Dale let his laugh go. “Yep, you are in love with this writer.” He folded his hands behind his head and shut his eyes. “I saw that coming from fifty light years away.”

“Saw what?” Cora’s face was flushed red with more anger than embarrassment. “You saw nothing!”

“Of course I didn’t. And a father has no idea when his daughter is in love. Cora, baby, I saw the way you looked at him. You practically were throwing up hearts. And you know what…so was he.”

“Dad, no, it’s not like that. He-“

“Is a client? Cora, if there’s one thing I know sometimes the most unnatural of things are the best thing for you.” He said twirling his finger around the perimeter of his hooped earring.

“Dad…” Cora said her eyes in her lap.

“Baby, honey, don’t let any of the other crap get to you. If you love this guy, tell him if he rejects you, which he won’t, then your just move on. He’s probably going crazy more right now then you are. Actually, he’s probably writing fifty poems about his feelings right now.”

“But- I can’t. My career…”

“Cora?”

“Yes Dad?”

“Shut up and stop thinking. You’re just like your mother worrying about everything people would think.”

“No I’m not!”

“Really now?”

“Yes!”

“Than prove it.”

“Cora.” A voice said softly from the door way. There stood Pete, his eyes on the floor. Dale was already up and out of his chair.

“Have fun kids!” He smiled, touching Pete for a moment on the shoulder. Pete shivered but tried to hide it. Dale laughed as he trudged up the stairs.

Journal-#2 ("By the Time you Read this"...)

By the time you read this…

*The entire book of Alice and Wonderland and Alice through the Looking Glass will have been read before dinner.

*Spaghetti will be twirls and slurped, bubbles will be blown in chocolate milk with little comment.

*A finger painting of a giraffe named “Willy” will have been completed.

*A child will be mildly scolded by one voice for getting yellow finger prints on the wall.

*A bubble bath with be done, dried, and plastic puppy toys put away.

*Another story, a shorter one, will be told from an old garage sale pop out book.

*A child will ask where you are, and I will say “Away for a while”.

*A woman will go to sleep alone, and sleep on both sides of the bed.