Room For Rent

(Through years of extensive research with roommates who annoyed me or were annoyed by me, I feel I have a real grasp of the subject of what can ruin a roommate relationsip. A random thought tied with that one brought forth this tale. Sadly, I couldn’t decide exactly how it should end. Three options presented themselves, so I decided to treat this like the Choose Your Own Adventure books I enjoyed as a child. Which ending is your favorite?)

A soft knock on the door interrupts my train of thought. I close my notebook, sliding it underneath the couch. I glance around the room one last time before stepping toward the door. Reassured, I step toward the door as another impatient knock resounds through the room. Taking one last deep breath, I swing the door open to reveal my potential roommate.

Tight-fitting black jeans hug her hips. Her babydoll t-shirt, which barely meets the top of her jeans, features a silhouette of a woman frozen in a graceful dance pose. Long blond hair hangs in soft waves on either side of her slender face. Her grey-blue eyes return my inquisitive look. Finally, she offers a nervous smile and an extended hand.

“Hello. My name is Janice. I’m here about the room.” Her voice sweetens the air between us.

I feel my own anxiety begin to fade away. “I’m Ellen. Please come in.”

As I step back, she breezes past me into the room. Her eyes rove over the tiny living room, taking in the couch and television stand. She shrugs her shoulders a little and sits on the couch, bouncing once before settling in and kicking off her shimmering, silver ballet flats. She pats the seat beside her and I sit stiffly beside her.

I open my mouth to speak, but she gets her question out first. “Is it okay if I ask about a few things?”

I nod my head, and she begins addressing shared concerns. I answer most of her questions with very little thought. One does leave me stymied. I continue to gaze at her in confusion as she awaits an answer.

With a sigh, she repeats it. “Do you prefer over or under?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” I wet my lips worriedly as a couple of possible meanings involving bets and bunk beds cross my mind.

“Your toilet paper? Does the loose end go over or under the roll when you put it back on the holder?” 

She says each word slowly and clearly, explaining to a child.

My face scrunches up as I try to remember. “Over?”

***Choose how the story ends.***

A. Over? Read the underlined text below.

B. Says over but means under and Janice checks. Read the italicized text below.

C. Says over but means under but Janice believes her. Read the bold text below.

POSSIBLE ENDING A

“Good.” She flashes me her winning smile again. “When can I move in?”

“The new lease is effective tomorrow, so…”

“Excellent. Thank you so much.” She envelopes me in a hug and leaves, closing the door softly.

I stare after her in surprise. With a shrug, I walk toward the bedroom that will be hers. Opening the door, I realize she didn’t see either bedroom or the bathroom. I hope that doesn’t prove to be a problem.

The next day finds me helping her and a few of her friends lug boxes up the two flights of stairs to our apartment. Realizing that the over under question could influence our life as roommates, I always remember to make sure the end of the toilet paper always flows over the top.

POSSIBLE ENDING B

She shakes her head, obviously recognizing the uncertainty in my voice. “Let’s go see.”

Janice stands up, slipping her shoes back onto her feet before taking a few steps toward the narrow hallway. With a glance back at me, she enters the open door to the right. I step toward her as she flips on the light and makes a quick assessment of the room. The frown on her face reveals that I answered incorrectly.

“This won’t do. Thank you for your time.”

She pushes past me, denying me the right to respond. I still stand in the doorway with my eyes riveted to the offending roll of toilet paper as the door slams behind her. I shake my head at the tail poking out from under the roll.

“Guess I still have interviews to make.” I sigh.

POSSIBLE ENDING C

“Good.” She flashes me her winning smile again. “When can I move in?”

“The new lease is effective tomorrow, so…”

“Excellent. Thank you so much.” She envelopes me in a hug and leaves, closing the door softly.

I gaze after her in surprise. With a shrug, I walk toward the bedroom that will be hers. Opening the door, I realize she didn’t see either bedroom or the bathroom. I hope that doesn’t prove to be a problem.

The next day finds me helping her and a few of her friends lug boxes up the two flights of stairs to our apartment. She bubbles over with excitement at the light pouring through the window and the size of the closet. When she has everything set up to her liking, she takes me out to dinner to celebrate. By the time we get home, yawns break up our conversation until we slip into our bedrooms to seek sleep.

Something pulls me roughly from sleep. The bathroom door slams and mine opens. A blurred silhouette crosses the room. A harsh voice breaks through the nighttime peace, pulling me further into the waking world.

“You lied to me.”

I try to wipe the sleep from my eyes as I look up at Janice’s distorted face. Surely, her lips could not contort in such rage. As I blink away the last remnants of sleep, she joins me on the bed, straddling me so that I can’t move.

“What’s wrong?” My question comes out in a hoarse, breathless whisper.

“I was just in the bathroom, and you know what I saw?”

I shake my head as she leans closer, forcing the rest of the air from my lungs. “It was under. You said over, but it was under.”

“I…” Words fail me.

She growls deep in her throat, releasing me from the death grip of her legs. As she storms out of the room, the door slams closed. I lie transfixed in my bed, afraid to move. My own breathing seems too loud in the darkness of my room. I don’t remember falling asleep.

I wake up to the same heart hammering fear that preceded my second attempt at sleep. I listen for sounds of an impending attack. After a couple of minutes of silence, I slowly creep out of bed. I sneak across the room to press my ear to the door until I am satisfied that no one stirs on the other side. I shudder as the door squeals.

The door to the other bedroom stands ajar. Relief washes over me as I push the door open and step into an empty room.

Letter

Sometimes a letter tells a better story. Sometimes a letter gives solace that nothing else offers. Sometimes it just alludes to something more. What do you think?

Dear Karan,

Since the first time I saw you, I knew we would always be friends. That day could have been yesterday for how clearly I remember it. Whenever I think of you, I feel that young and lost again for a moment. Do you remember how we met?

It was our first day of school, and I was scared.  When my mother let go of my hand and walked away, I felt that the whole world had turned inside out. Tear after tear streamed down my round cheeks. I could hear other kids laughing. I assumed it was at me. I tried to bury my head in the soft fleece of my jacket, but you wouldn’t let me. You put your hand on my arm, waiting until I looked up before flashing me a dazzling smile. Just that small act made me feel a little better. I smiled back at you through my tears as you reached out to brush them away.

That was not to be the last time that you would bring me back from drowning in my tears of sorrow or fear. You were there for the realization that my first crush did not share my ardor. Your smile made me forget when I lost my first real love. You were the one who reassured me everything would turn out okay when the doctors expressed concern about my oldest daughter before she was born.  The tissues I used to dry my eyes usually came from your purse. Now tears threaten to envelope me again, and I don’t know what will keep them from washing me away.

What causes them to flood so quickly down my cheeks to splash on this page is more shame than sorrow. How could I not know that my rock was crumbling? How could I not see that you were wasting away? James assures me that no one else knew either. You married a strong man and a sweet man who took time out of his own mourning to reassure me when he was the only one burdened with knowing you were slipping away from us for so long.

I know heaven exists. I know that I will meet you there someday. I know that I will be afraid, and, if our souls can cry, I will weep. I hold onto the assurance that you will greet me with that warm smile and pull me into your arms to comfort me. I just wish I could have told you how much I love and admire you one more time before you left this world, but this letter will have to do, for now.

Love,

Tina 

Pitiful Post

This week exploded on me. While I have a piece in the works, my readers deserve the best I have to offer. Sadly that piece still needs some tweaking and revising, so I thought I would comment on what I am learning from one of the three books I am currently reading. Since I need to finish reading it by the afternoon, I will keep my commentary brief.

"Shibumi" sounds like an awesome title, doesn't it? A good title can draw in even the most timid reader.

I also find that I receive a small thrill of satisfaction when the reason for the title emerges in the storyline.

I adore a varied cast of characters, particularly when they say bizarre things. (You'll have to read it to understand."

However, the bizarre statements can begin to wear on one if they are overused.

I also find that the use of many languages without any clue as to the meaning comes off as pretentious. At least I understood the French parts.

As always, this should inspire to write better pieces for you, dear readers. Keep reading.

Success

This is another short little piece for your reading pleasure. For those who may just be joining us, please feel free to follow this blog, post comments, and offer your own story prompts. We writers in my head love feedback!

“As a writer, I will consider myself successful when various editions of my own works line the shelves of my personal library.”

Those words, penned during a motivational workshop early in my writing career, haunt me now. My dream has now been realized yet I still feel far from reaching my potential. Even as I run my fingers along the leather spines of hundreds of volumes, which bear my name, the weight of my own dissatisfaction pushes me down to my knees.

Soft laughter echoes back from the ceiling, only to be captured by the soft pages of my writings. I look up, startled to realize the laughter emanates from me. New laughter harmonizes with mine. A strong hand grips my shoulder from behind and my laughter gives way to a raspy voice.

“It’s never enough, is it, my boy?”

I raise my chin to look into the emaciated face of my mentor. Pale blues eyes filled with a lifetime of memories and more gaze down at me without blinking. Thin greyish lips part enough to allow his yellowed teeth some semblance of a smile.

“This cannot be…” I begin.

Harsh laughter prefaces his words. “Because I am dead?”

“Yes.” Confusion fills my mind, only to be replaced by fear.

I struggle against his grip, but the iron vise tightens as he leans in to blow the fetid smell of death into my lungs. “What you must soon accept is that you have joined me.”

At these final words, I look away from him. I no longer kneel before the altar of my life’s work. My body now lies prostrate on the ground. The image imprints on my soul before fading out as my consciousness melts into the universe.

My Queen

This is a brief diversion for those who love or dream of love. Enjoy.

Alice’s hair streamed out behind her, catching the light and turning to gold. She leaned closer to her horse’s neck, urging it to go faster. She could hear his horse’s hooves beating against the hard earth as he caught up to her. They neared the barn and her mount instinctively slowed, coming to a walk as it turned its nose to the closed gate.

Samuel caught up to her, dismounting swiftly to open the gate for her. He followed slowly, leading his horse into the corral and closing the gate again. He released his horse, watching it canter to the opposite side of the corral before turning his attention back to Alice. She patted her horse’s neck gently and turned to him. He raised his arms toward her, waiting impatiently for her to dismount.

“How did you think of this?” She slid down from the horse into his waiting arms.

“Doesn’t every little princess love horses?” He whispered into her ear as he held her close.

She pulled away, glaring and smiling as she patted his chest softly with her balled up fists. “Little?”

“You’ll always be your father’s little girl.” He smiled sinking to his knees in the hard-packed mud.

A warm blush crept up her cheeks. “Are you…”

He held up one finger to quiet her as he fumbled in the pocket of his jacket. “At least, that is what he told me yesterday when I asked him an important question.” He smiled and shook his head as she opened her mouth to speak and continued. “Now, I have a question for you…”

“Ye…”

“Wait for me to ask.” He smiled up at her. “Will you be my queen?”

“Yes.” She sank to her knees, wrapping her arms around him.

One More Snow Day

You may have missed two posts since last Thursday. In light of the promise of snow, I thought this story would be a good choice for today.

Everyone has experienced long winter mornings where the whole family hovered around the radio. We all longed to hear our county announced as a school cancellation for that day. We figured out the neighboring counties. When we heard their names, we became more anxious. Would it happen? Would we have a whole day off to spend however we liked? On one such morning, I peeked out the window and hope took root in my soul. A thin blanket of white fluff covered everything I could see. As I stepped away from the window, I heard a loud, “Whoop!”

My door burst open before I could reach it. My brother hoisted me up on his shoulders, proclaiming, 

“No school, little girl. Find your gloves.”

I giggled. No one could make me giggle like Colin could. As he lowered back to solid ground, I giggled again and plucked my gloves from a pile on the floor. As soon as I slipped them on, he offered me his hand, leading me into the living room. My mother smiled at us and shook her head.

“If you aren’t eating breakfast now, you better not come crying to me later.” I looked up at Colin at her words.

He smiled as he led me to the table. We ate as fast as we could, washing pancakes we barely tasted down with large glasses of orange juice. At a frown from our mother, our plates clattered into the sink. Then we were free.

Racing to pull on gloves, scarves, heavy boots, and thick coats, my brother and I finally stepped out into the bitter cold. As the sun rose higher in the sky, the thrill of building snowmen and making snow angels wore off. I left my brother to put the finishing touches on our second snow child and turned my feet toward the river.

“Charlotte,” my brother’s voice followed me.

I didn’t listen. Soon I stood at the edge of the river, letting one foot gently tap the thick layer of ice on covering it. I heard my brother’s footsteps. As I turned toward him, he scooped me up in his arms. I kicked my legs to no avail as he carried me back up the hill.

“Mom will never forgive me if I let you get your feet wet.” He huffed a little.

“I bet the ice is thick enough to hold me.” I protested, squirming against his chest.

“It might be, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.” Warmth filled me at the love in his words.

I snuggled closer to him, unable to speak as tears formed in my eyes.

He smiled down at me. “Don’t worry, sis, I’ll spend the whole day keeping you entertained. Okay?”

“Sounds wonderful,” I sighed, leaning into the warmth of his embrace after he set me on the ground.

He kept that promise. He walked me home and sat with me by the fire, telling me stories, tickling me, and keeping me out of my mother’s way as she cooked and cleaned. As he tucked me into bed, he confessed how frightened he had felt when he saw me stepping onto the ice. He had been afraid he would lose his baby sister. In the dim glow of my nightlight, I saw a real tear slide down his cheek.

And that is how I remember my big brother—the teenager who spent a whole day with his little sister. What I wouldn’t give for one more day with him. The war has taken that possibility away. I now know the loss that he had feared, and every time it snows, I wish for one more snow day with Colin.

Moving On? Moving Out?

I have noticed a marked lack of interest in this particular piece, so I thought I'd slip this final selection into the journal on an off day. I already have a piece in mind to post on Thursday, so feel free to come back for something new and refreshing. Hope to read more of your comments soon!

“Carolyn has done it. She quit.” Crystal crowed as she returned from a scouting mission to the human resources department.

“Really?” Less than a week had passed.

“Yes. I can’t believe she made it this long.” Crystal made a sour face.

We both made many visits to her cubicle in the past week. Every time, we came closer and closer to losing our lunch. No one could ever get used to such a stench. I shuddered and Crystal smiled at me.

“It’s only a matter of time.” She nodded happily.

As if on cue, my phone rang.

“Sarabeth…” I began.

“Sarabeth, get up here. We need to talk.” My boss’s voice boomed over the line.

“Yes, sir.” I pulled the phone away from my ear in time to hear a loud click.

“Good luck.” Crystal paused long enough to flash me a thumb’s up before sitting heavily in her chair.

I stepped out of the doorway calmly before bursting into a sprint. By the time I reached my boss’s office, my breath was spent. I paused just outside the door to regain my bearings. When I no longer sounded as if I had just ran a marathon, I knocked lightly on the door.

“Get in here.” His gruff voice matched his serious face.

“I have some news for you.” He paused and surveyed my expression. “You might want to sit down.”

“I think I’m okay to stand.” I smiled reassuringly.

“I really think you should sit. I’ll wait.” He formed a steeple of his fingers as he leaned back a little.

I obeyed, pulling my skirt down subconsciously as it rode up above my knees. He gently tapped his fingers together as he sought the right words.

“Sarabeth, the company is moving in a new direction.” He paused dramatically to let this sink in.

I filled the pause with timid words. “What do you mean?”

“We’re outsourcing some of our data entry positions…”

My face fell as he paused again, changing his own expression to one of remorse. “You’ve been a good employee, but we’re going to have to let you go.”

“But I just…” I bit back the words that were on the tip of my tongue.

“You just what?” He lowered his hands and leaned forward. His dark eyes searched my face suspiciously.

“I just thought that I…” I struggled to think of a good lie.

“That’s not important. You’ll have two weeks to write up some procedures.” He offered me a smile as if he was giving me a gift. “And a generous severance package to tide you over until you find a new job.”

“Thank you?” Hopeless words were all I had left.

I didn’t wait for his response. I walked out of his office, being sure to let it slam behind me. He didn’t try to stop me. I sighed, realizing that perhaps coming to work to find I had no cubicle really was a sign that I should have moved on.