Phone call

This is purely fictional. I wrote this a while back to experiment with different styles of writing - I wanted to know if I could write a chick novel or not. This is a conversation between two friends (I tried to make it super girly). I don't like it much - it doesn't lead anywhere, but I thought I'll post it here as it has been lying around hidden on my laptop - thought I'd show it some light of the day.



She had been staring at her computer screen for a little less than an hour. Her notes scrawled in her childish handwriting on her notebook lay next to the black laptop, the blank page of Microsoft glared at her.
She picked up her phone, looked at the time, checked for new messages, played a game or two. “Inspiration, inspiration…” she muttered. The fact that La Roux was melodically screaming she’s bulletproof on Radio 1, didn’t help the thoughts flow any easier.
“It’s a trend report, how hard could it be” she sighed. Of course, it was a mammoth task when your entire career depended on it. This one article – maybe, hopefully could land her a job, any job! Or not, depending on how dependable people were.
December 28th, 2009 and Zi was glad the terrible year was coming to an end. The trouble with being 24 is, she thought, you are like a little bird, glad to be alive – but still dependent on others. “Oh lordy, lordy, make things alright already!” she screamed to no one in particular.

The phone rang, Zi let it go to the answer phone – inspiration was still a far cry away. “Hello my lil’ fashionista, we missed you at the party last night. I met that guy again, he asked about you and wasn’t surprised when I mentioned you were home, probably buried under a pile of pillows...” Zi leaped on to grab the phone – “What do you mean he wasn’t surprised?” A crackle of laughter came from the other end, “Anne, you know you sound like a hyena when you laugh like that” “Hyena or not, I knew you would pick up the phone as soon as I mentioned him.” “Well, that’s no fair, I was just working on my article” A long silence followed, then more laughter. “Is that Fearne Cotton I hear in the background? Dah-ling Zi, I know you think she’s fashionable and all, but living vicariously through her won’t help you, anyhoo, I’m coming over. Lovely, go take a shower – I have news you might like, toodles.” Click.

Zi was left mumbling, as she glanced a look in the mirror. How does your best friend know that you still haven’t showered at four pm, she thought. Anne, or Annabell Foxely may not be the best influence, but she was the best friend a girl could ask for. She walked like she owned the world, didn’t give a damn about the rumors circulating about her and loved Zi like a sister. To top it she was drop dead gorgeous, those bones could give Kate Moss a run for her money. But Anne’s idea about modelling, like everything else, was a bit extreme – “Modelling is like prostitution, and I don’t sell my body. It’s only for me & the men I choose to devour on – exclusive you know.” Anne would proclaim. That girl was crazy, Zi thought.


Right then, she switched her laptop off and ran to the bathroom to scrub herself clean for the big news her bestie was about to lay down on her.


xxx

Mistakes

The following text is entirely fictional. Resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. :)


She dropped her keys on the table and looked around. Everything was still the same and yet she couldn't figure out what was missing.
She checked her phone, "No new messages." tears began to well up in her eyes.
Fixing herself a drink and puffing chunks of smoke from her cigirrate, she calculated the one hour time difference, and logged on.
A mail lie unopened in her inbox, her body shivered as she clicked to read it.
"But you're right ... let's just stay friends because apparantly there wasn't anything else on the other side."
She sat there alone in the darkness with only the glow of her laptop screen.
She never did forgive herself for letting him go...
Xxx

The Fighter

The following text is entirely fictional. Resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. :)

They said, "You are weak." She stood up in arms and proved them wrong.
They said, "The weak cry." She put a shield to hide any tears.
They said, "You are but a girl, you have no right to dream." She fought for her dreams to come true.

In the end they found her alone, her sword by her side - crying tears of blood. They asked, "Why are you crying? You have everything."

She whispered, "I'm tired. All my life I fought for them, and now I sit here alone, with no one to hold me when I fall."

Therapy

The following text is entirely fictional. Resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. :)

She sat with him by her side. The room felt stuffy as she intertwined his fingers with hers. The kitten they had just bought stroked her leg, sending shivers down her back. She sighed, looking at their palms clasped together - he knew she liked that.

Looking into his eyes she searched for an answer, he looked calm and she was struggling to keep her nerves. She didn't want this to be the last time, she didn't want it to end. Tears filled her big eyes, with quivering lips she asked, "Does she know you better than me?"

For the first time he looked at her, hoping she didn't think this way. He knew her better - he knew her thoughts. He didn't say a word, he couldn't explain why it happened. He stood up, straightened his shirt and walked towards the bedroom door. "Goodnight," he whispered, "You were special."


xxx

The Meeting

The following text is entirely fictional. Resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. :)

She pressed her lips trying her best to remain calm. There was no grey cloud in sight, the sunshine seeped through the glass roof. She imagined what she'd do when it finally happened, a wave or would she dare to hug. Kurt Cobain blasted in her ears, breaking her thoughts.

She searched for her iPod in her bag when she saw the shoes, her eyes followed the pair carefully till it came and stood still facing her. She looked up, staring into his light brown eyes and smiled.

Her eyes flickered, checking the big clock on the opposite wall. He's here before time, she thought, waiting patiently for him to make the first move. He moved towards her, she waved, blushing at the awkward moment. She finally hugged him, letting his hand linger on her arm. They held hands as they spoke of the commute.

With a single movement he pulled her closer and their lips met for the first time. She pulled away, searching his face for the happiness she craved. "I've waited for you so long," he whispered. She let him kiss her again, her heart heavy with joy. She felt a load lifted off her chest, there would be no more grey in her life anymore.

Taken

The following text is entirely fictional. Resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. :)

She put her hand on her hips, it's really crowded here, she thought as people walked past in the tiny store. "Anything you like baby?" she turned to face him. His smile grew wider, "Yes" he whispered, turning her around like a doll. He pointed towards something in front of her. She squinted her eyes, realizing what he was talking about. "Perfect, isn't she" he said, talking about his girl's reflection, "I like that the best."

She tiptoed as he pulled her closer for a kiss. "Yes, unfortunately I think she's taken," she teased. They slipped out of the store just as the familiar tune of Billy Jean started playing. He took her hand in hers, she moved closer to him. She loved how tiny her hand felt in his palm, the security she got from such a simple touch. She intertwined her fingers with his when she felt the cold metal.

She stood still for a moment, regaining herself. The cold metal was a constant reminder. She felt numb, as her breathing grew faster. Yes, he's taken, she sighed; unfortunately, not by me.

Normality

The following text is entirely fictional. Resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. :)

She stood there waiting for the bus. The cold was hurting her fingers as she clenched the grocery bags. She looked up and that's when she saw it. "Come visit us in sunny Florida", it read. She smiled, thinking of him. He was so happy that day, that beautiful sunny day.

"Babe, I got the job, I got the job ! It's in Daytona Beach." Her heart dropped. That's half the world away. She put on a brave smile and said, "Congratulations honey, you deserve it." She held on to him, for support, as if it were farewell already. He whispered into her ear, "Come with me, we'll see the world together." She stared back, he knew those empty eyes would never make false promises. He knew, she knew, it was the beginning of an end.

She's back home now, trying to settle in to the warmth of the house. A child is crying in the flat nearby, a dinner being cooked, a family sitting together for prime time television. "Why is it so messy?" she hears an angry voice. She sighs, he's home early tonight. She goes to the kitchen to clean up, stares out at the blinking city lights. "Come with me..." she hears the whisper, "we'll see the world together."

She shuts her eyes, for that one moment she misses him and lets the silent tears roll down.

xxx

Broken

The following text is entirely fictional. Resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. I condemn any sort of violence, specially domestic violence. :)

She spits blood on the dirty sink. Looks up and stares into the mirror, only to find a shadow of her previous self. Scars will heal she tells herself. Tears roll down her cheek.
With a loud bang, he opens the door. She looks down, shuts her eyes and whispers, "I love you." He raises his hand for the final blow.
She lies in a pool of blood and dirt. A freak accident they say, a tragedy. Only she knew.

xxx

Lost girl

The following text is entirely fictional. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. :)

I'll be whoever you want me to be. I'll be the joker or the bimbette, the conversationalist or the listener, the poet or the fashionista, the dork or the diva. What's your choice? But if you dig deep under the masks you might find the lonely, lost girl. The cheeks streaked with tears you forgot to wipe, the smile that no longer dazzles.

I'm loved, I know I am.

I stare at the wall, I zone out. I breathe, I fidget. I roll over the bed and sleep. Tomorrow, another day, another mask to wear. I'll be whoever you want me to be.

xxx