Ride Day

It was a nice day, a bit cold but sunny. It was the perfect day for a bike ride especially as Mari would not have another chance to enjoy the sunny weather on her bike till next spring. The young girl took her red and quite old bike and set off roaming the streets of her neighborhood.

As she was enjoying the sun, she remembered that she needed to visit to grocery store. Her poor fridge was running out of milk, eggs, bread and all the stuff that could keep a human being alive. Mari decided to change her morning plans and go to the store.

After she had bought everything she needed in order not to starve to death, she started the bike to home. The weather was really nice today, especially when compared to the stormy yesterday. The bright sun erased all the memories of the storm from last night, even though the puddles of water kept looking at her ominously.

Mari was close to her place, the last crossroad. She speeded up a bit, eager to go home and bake that strawberry cupcakes. The car was in a safe distance, of course she had more than enough time to cross the road. But then again, she had forgotten of the vicious puddles. When she crossed a puddle right in the middle of the road, she lost control of the bike and the young girl found herself inside the puddle. She was wet from head to toe, but that was not the thing that worried her the most. The most imminent threat was the car approaching her fast. Mari’s heart raced in her chest as panicked tried to get up.

The tires of the car shrieked but stopped in as distance from her. The driver was nice to Mari, he had seen what had happened. However that did not stopped Mari from blushing, she was so embarrassed that she kept apologizing till the driver laughed:

“Why are you sorry? Hopefully your eggs have not turned into an omelet!”

 

 

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If people were rain I was drizzle and she was a hurricane

 Sam looked his younger sister storming in his rooming. Lena slammed the door behind her with so much force that a picture fell off the wall. He sighed. He knew why she was here and it would not be easy to satisfy her wishes.

“Brother” she said for greeting. She sat across his desk. Her cheeks were flashed red from the cold air and in her green eyes he could read anger. “Are you not going to do anything?”

Sam didn’t respond immediately. He removed his glasses, cleared them and them put them back on. During that time he didn’t look her in the eye and she was drumming her fingers on the mahogany desk. “No” he whispered, still without meeting her gaze.

“No?” she asked. There was an underlying threat in her voice, but he chose to ignore it. They could not fight a war amongst themselves, too.

“No” Sam said firmly now. He gazed right into her stormy eyes. They were so feverish with emotions, not only now, but always; so unlike his. If the eyes were truly a door to the soul, he wondered what other people thought of his. Most likely would be bored; who isn’t bored watching the calm sea? “We cannot afford to lose anybody else on this war”.

“We have to pay our debt! A blood debt!” she shouted and slammed her fist on the desk.

“I said no”

“He was your brother!”

“No means no, Lena. Don’t make me angry” he said in a soothing but firm manner.

“I doubt I can” she said full of sarcasm. “If I were…” she begun saying, but he interrupted her.

“But you are not”.

“…I would be far better than you” she spitted to him with venom dripping from each of her words.

We will never know, will we? He thought as his sister left the room like all the demons of hell were chasing her.

AN: Based upon the quote: “If people were rain I was drizzle and she was a hurricane”.- John Green, Looking for Alaska.

Lost

I opened my eyes. Where am I? I can see sun rays coming through the tree branches that are laid without pattern high above me. I can a few small birds on top of them, but I can hear the song of a lot more in the area around me. I tried to stand, but with difficulty; the effort left me dizzy. I must have hurt my head, but how? And more importantly, who am I?

That was the great question, who was I? I tried hard to place a name on me, an occupation, a favourite food and color, but to no avail. I looked around, but nothing helped me to remember. Left with no other choice, I got to my feet and tried to find my way through the thick forest. I walked and walked, all the while my stomach echoed loudly. I passed over many trees’ roots, fallen branches and small bushes. Once or twice I got a glimpse of small animals fleeing when I approached. But I met nothing that I could eat, and nothing that could make me remember who I were.

Suddenly noises were heard ahead. I came to an abrupt halt and hid behind some bushes. I waited as the sounds came near me. Finally, I saw a man with a riffle appearing on the other side of my hiding place. He looked like he just had a fight; a huge purple bruise appeared on his left eye. His way of moving, betrayed his intention to look for something, or someone. Why did I think of that, now? I feel sure, he is looking for someone not something. But why am I so sure?

Maybe he could help me. Or, not. I could not be sure, he seemed dangerous. While I tried to make up my mind, the man almost stepped on me. When he saw me recognition appeared on his features.

“You! I thought you dead!” he exclaimed while pointing at me with his riffle.

“Me! I am not dead!” I answered, while trying to look relaxed and confident in myself, like I knew perfectly well everything about him and me. Like I were dangerous too.

“Didn’t he kill you? He promised he would take care of you and I would take care the other bitch!” he whined while still pointing at me with his riffle.

“I am afraid I am still alive” I answered as laconically as possible. Who is he? Who is the other one? Who am I? Why is he pointing a gun at me?

“Well, it doesn’t matter. If Mike didn’t kill you, then I can kill you myself, too. I will get all the bounty money for me, no splitting in half with that oaf” he raised his gun and aimed straight at my heart.

I never really understood how I disarmed him and snapped his neck. All happened like a flash, all the right movements came to me involuntarily, instinctively, like the steps of a dance I had walked a thousand times, even though the effort left me dizzy again. The only thing that mattered was that he was dead and I was alive.

I bent over and searched his pockets. I found a bottle of water, which I drunk quickly; I hadn’t understood how thick my throat was. I also found a pack of chips and a folded paper. I unfolded only to see two faces with names beneath them, I suppose the one belonged to me, I would check on the next river to see which one exactly. I read the next lines. I whistled at the price of the bounty and the crimes. I read quickly the long list and looked over again to the dead man. I guess ain’t not time for the wicked.

It was not green

Green, it was green he could swear on his life. He had passed the traffic light with a green. Why was she screaming?
“You didn’t stop at the traffic lights! Again!” Elena started yelling at her husband, again. They could never have badinage, no. They had to argue about the smallest detail of their life together. Even about whether the traffic light was green.
“It was green, Elena.” Responded Paul wearily.
“No,” she continued the argument stubbornly. “Green were the leaves of the trees on the side of the roads. Green was the Ferrari parked two streets away from our house. Green was the skirt that the young woman wore on the previous traffic lights that you passed. But, not the last traffic light”. Elena crossed her arms on her chest.
Paul opened his mouth to disagree, but a policeman on a motorcycle signaled him to stop on the side of the road. He sighed heavily and a huge triumphant smile appeared on her face. After all, it might have not been green.

The place of no dreams

There is a place where dreams mean nothing. There is place where everything is as it should be. Everybody is happy, because there is a place where dreams come true. Everybody has what they dreamed of; riches, kids, thirty eight dogs, a pink barn, health, solitude, a thriving company, a unicorn. In that place, dreams mean nothing.

Elena heard of this place for the first time by her grandmother. She would tell her stories of this place and its inhabitant’s dreams. “There is a road in a dessert that leads to a mountain. There lies a place where dreams come true”. She used to say. “You have to find the road and follow it till the end. But be careful; if you follow the wrong path you will lose forever that place.”

She was now wearing her favorite dress, glasses and boots. Elena had packed all her dreams in a blue, leather suitcase. And now she set out to find the road where dreams mean nothing. She was eighteen years old and she was sure she would find the right road in a dessert that leads to a mountain. There her dreams will come true.

The old phone

Annie is sitting next to the phone all day. She is still wearing the same clothes that she wore when she returned home from her night shift. Her red hair are hanging loosely at one side of her face, her ponytail that sported hours ago is now half undone, but she does not bother to fix it. She hasn’t done anything all day, she only observed the grey wall on the opposite side of the room. She has noticed with her big, brown eyes that there is a small spider on the wall, making a web. But she does not bother to do anything about it; she is only waiting for the old phone to ring.

The phone is an old rusty one. It is made of wood, but its color has faded away, making it impossible to identify the tree it was made from. Generally, it produces a high pitched noise that can make someone jump, even if he sits at the other side of the small apartment. It could literary fill the apartment and add to the noises of her normal life. But today, that Annie is waiting so anxiously for its noise to be heard, it is silent. Silent is the whole apartment too, only the rhythmic tic-tock of the clock is heard. And that is because it is not a normal day.

It had started quite normally, though. Annie left her work at around six in the morning, as always. She worked the night shift in a factory that packed and disturbed milk. Her post was in the line of production of the carton bottles. It was a mechanical job, but that did not make it easier. The night shift had made it even more tiring but Annie needed the money if she wanted to attend collage the following year.

She had left the factory and had headed for the nearby 24-hour café. It was a small and definitely not the best of the area but she always liked because it felt cozy. Moreover, in the Morning Sunshine worked a girl that had turned out to be her best friend. She was named Rosie and was a few years older than her. She was shorter and more beautiful than Annie, according to Annie’s point of view. She could never decide if that was due to her dark complexion or due to the large smile that was always on her face. Rosie was very friendly and talkative; it was easy for her to approach the shy girl that always had been Annie.

This morning, Annie, entered the shop. She approached the counter and ordered her usual: scrambled eggs and hot chocolate. “You will never stop drink milk? You are like a baby!” teased her Rosie. “You know I don’t like coffee! And, anyway I am drinking chocolate, not milk!” replied Annie. “No honey, it’s milk. Milk…if you ever prepared it yourself you would know it!” said Rosie in a false tone of disapproval. She said that to Annie often, but she never really meant it, and never offence was given.

Annie smiled at her comments and looked out for the local newspaper that always was around somewhere. She greeted two more customers; they were workers in the factory, too. She could never remember the name of the older one, but she was quite sure that the other one was John. She blushed a bit when John smiled back at her, she had a crush on him since the first time she saw him in the café. She quickly hid behind the recently-found newspaper. “You should talk to him. Or at least smile back at him once!” said quickly Rosie, while serving her order. “Yes, I know it, Rosie. Maybe, one day.” Rosie rolled her eyes, but said nothing as she had to attend to the other customers. She casted a look over her shoulder that Annie knew it meant I am not yet done with you lady. She sighed and begun to sip slowly her chocolate.

At that moment something unexpected happened. The door opened and entered two new customers. It was highly unusual at that time of the day to see in the small café someone that does not work for the factory. She turned to look at them with great curiosity the same moment that Rosie asked them what they wanted. But those two were not normal customers. They were not at all customers. “EVERYBODY GET ON THE GROUND! Your cash is what I want!”

Chaos followed. She fell to the ground, covering her head with her arms, while one of the two grabbed Rosie from her hair, leading her towards the cashier. He looked very threatening in his dark clothes; he his head covered with a hood and scarf. She could not see anything but two cool eyes. She hated those eyes, but could nothing to stop them from looking so menacing. The other one was dressed in a similar way, but he was a bit shorter and had darker eyes. He made all the talk, too. “Get on the ground and don’t move! If anyone moves, I will use this.” He said demonstrating his gun. “Now, slowly, when I come to you, you will put ALL valuable possessions that you have in this bag,” he showed off the bag, “and, as always, no protests or heroisms.”

Meanwhile Rosie and the cool-eyed robber were on the cashier. She was filling another similar bag with the earnings of the previous day. She seemed relatively calm, but anyone who knew her could say that she was furious. Annie recognized it and dread was upon her. She was afraid for Rosie, she could do very stupid things when she was angry. She thought of making a sign at Rosie not to do anything, but then the other one kicked her. “Come on, honey, you have to give me what you have.” With no other option she put in the bag the little money she carried and her bracelet. The bracelet was a gift of her grandmother and she wished not to give to him, but his gun was pointing at her.

At that point the other one let loose of Rosie. He nodded to the other to leave. At that point Rosie rang a bell that there was in every café of this town as a distress signal. She had called for the police. The cool-eyed robber looked at her with menace; he raised his arm and shot twice at Rosie.

The rest were just a blur to Annie. She vaguely remembers the two of them running to the door, while she had run to hug Rosie. She was alive, but uncautious. She wept, until someone dragged her away from her. She now thinks that he was John. Everybody was moving around, but she could not comprehend what was going on. It seemed like the police had arrived on the scene. They were putting now Rosie in an ambulance. She moved closer to it, wanting to go with her, but they didn’t let her. It was because she was not a family member. Nonsense! Wanted to cry, but Rosie’s brother had arrived too, and promised to call her for news. And the next moment they were gone.

And so now, Annie is sitting next to her old phone. It is good that she doesn’t have to go to work tonight, she cannot leave her spot. She has to learn about Rosie. She rubs her wrist in the place that her bracelet was. She doesn’t really care about it, it only matters that Rosie is well. She wants her friend to be alive, and healthy and able to tease her for the chocolate. She looks the spider on the wall with tears in her eyes. She could do nothing to prevent it and nothing to fix it. She can only wait for the phone to ring. But it remained silent.

Coffee love

I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop I love so much. I never knew what made me to walk over here every morning. Was it the smell of the fresh cut coffee? Were the cookies that had just come out of the oven? Were the soft sounds of the jazz music playing through the speakers? Or was it the cozy armchair by the window bathed by the sunshine?

I knew the real reason when I entered the shop yesterday morning and I didn’t see your smile. Every single morning for the past forty five mornings, you were there, behind the counter, getting my order, preparing my coffee and finally smiling at me when you were giving me my change. I knew the color of your eyes; every wrinkle that appeared around your eyes when you smiled. I knew you had a scar on the left side of your chin. But I never knew that your smile was the one that made me walk extra miles every morning to this old coffee shop.

I entered today the shop with fear in my heart. What would I do if I didn’t see your smile today? I could never work up the courage to ask you your name, where are you from, what was your favorite book, how did you make the delicious cookies. If I didn’t know you, I’d rather not know. If I couldn’t have you, I’d rather be alone.

I opened the door with dread in my heart. The familiar smell of the fresh cut coffee, the freshly baked cookies, the soft jazz music playing through the speakers and the cozy armchair by the window were there. And so was your smile, greeting me good morning. Until I didn’t see your smile for one day, I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop I love so much.

AN: An old story that  I had posted almost a year ago in tumblr. Cannot find the link to it, but it was inspired by the panda30challenge 😀