The Story Project, Voting Time!

Hey all!
So, as I am down for the count for the next two weeks, I have been trying to revitalize my creativity by writing a little something at the end of these lat few nights. Here I have stand alone excerpts of what could be three stories. I am asking for people to vote on the one they like best, and that's the one I'll try and take a crack at.
So without further adieu...

Story #1:

            ..."The cottage was quaint, infused with a feeling of kindness akin to an outwardly maternal grandparent. It smelled of layers; from the sapping pines, to freshly watered vines and vases of brooding roses sitting tall in every corner of the small space. Sunlight, gliding through the forest canopy, unraveled it’s penetrating beams and peered through the windows, resting timidly on the settee and across the wooden floor. It was the most beloved and abandoned place outside the city walls. Its’ up-keeping was a mystery, done by elusive volunteers, conjunctive in a reason that was accepted by all others without need of being understood.

 Children from a decadence of generations boasted many stories of the place, with only slim variations presenting through time. My mother chortled a similar tale to her brother one evening; I overheard it from my window above the kitchen. Asleep. I was pretending to be in such a state as to not upset my parentage, but continued wickedly to encroach upon their conversation, as a mouse whom follows the line of walls, hoping to go unnoticed with its newly acquired bit of twine."...  


Story #2:

                 ..."A furious wind ripped across the lush valley, invading the minute openings of armor, pushing achingly against spears and sending flags to snap and thrash violently above the hoards. The storm was finally awakening; whose god had brought it, each force took as their omen for victory and defeat. No more games of fancy politicians, no more mercy from the pious; a civilization was to end with the last of a gurgling breath and blood watering the tall grasses.
There were no words from the fellows of the Lecoujen; they were all spent on talks of valor and carousing the night previous. The last of the rations given out, the barrels of sour kiima drank with vigor, bawdy jokes and lewd gestures thrown about the masses of brothers and sisters, neighbors, fathers and mothers, lovers, friends and rivals- to the end, to it all. The bonfires blazed wildly, licking up toward the ominous scene above which built and darkened with each hour of chanting music. The ranks dissolved, officers and generals moving from their separated tables, casting off their pomp and sitting amongst those they used to walk through the street with on a sunny day."

Story #3:

..."The ground gave a crunch of flaky salt under the rubber sole of their boots, the lake bottom long since dried and barren of anything more than an occasional stalk of grass, dried and crumbling away. They had been traveling across the deserted country for a span of time that felt immeasurable, had Isis stopped counting the reappearance of the sun as her parents and the other followers were told to do, she too would have the same disconnection with time that she saw tug at the edge of the others lips, the grim look in their eyes. Dressed like a decorator crabs in pieces of cloth from other worn-down clothing, lassoed together or roughly sewn with twine, they trudged ever forward behind the ‘Apostle’ and his upright and decadent entourage. Riding miles ahead in whatever abandoned and working vehicles they found, the band of loyal followers chased their leaders tracks left in mud and sand, anxiously rushing towards kicked up trails of dust, clamoring for the assurance that they’d find water, that there was food, that the journey would soon end and their burdens would lift, just as the Apostle proclaimed." 



Thanks for your time! 

-Dust in the Wind

Snipet of Constance: Ch.4- Blazing Along the Watery Trail

   In lieu of another 'Contemplation of a Fat Girl' this week, I have been working on the story I've been creating. This is a bit from the latest chapter of Constance. Sorry it's not perfect, I haven't gone over it a dozen times yet, but as I am also not perfect... You get the drift, right?  

 ...

          “Would ya look at that.” She smiled. “Day’s almost over with nothin’ major.”

            The words exited her mouth accompanied by a low rumble. They looked around to see if it was something inside the shop causing it. There wasn’t. The sound was getting closer and louder. Joanne tapped her foot against the floor; she could feel the vibrations running through the wood counter top under her fingers. She pursed her lips. Of course, nothing about this week was going smoothly. Yes, more people where bound to come in, but her windows were beginning to rattle and that annoyed her. Joanne’s ears perked; the distinguished sound of revving engines became more apparent. Sam could tell something had suddenly clicked in her mind. She gave a wicked grin, reached under the counter and pulled out a shotgun. Sam took a concerned step back. The devilish look reached her eyes, shimmering brightly. She gave him a quick pat on the shoulder.

            “No worries sugar. Just going ta teach some old dogs a new trick.”

            She walked out the door and into the middle of the road. Sam followed her, but she motioned for him to stay on the sidewalk with Constance who sat in front of a stoic Pravar, posing with a drawn bow and arrow facing the ceiling. In his Native American garb and wood paint, Pravar reminded Sam of the character on the wrapper of a tootsie pop. If the wrapper had that character on it, he used get another tootsie pop for free; but that was a long time ago and no longer applied. Sam and Constance covered their ears, the rumbling of the engines becoming deafening. Over the hill and past a small cloud of dirt, a gang of motorcycles poured into the Hollow. The muscular man at the head of the pack, leading them, wore a black leather bandana over his head with matching knuckle gloves and a tight leather coat with short fringe up the arms, leather chaps covered his faded blue jeans. Black goggles and a black and blue bandana covered his nose and mouth, giving him an intentional air of foreboding. His chopper was elegantly curved but simple, painted raven black and dark silver with streaks of deep green flowing down the sides, the stainless steel frame blued. The seventeen others riding behind him were all clad in leather, each of their cycles equally customized. They slowed their pace as they came upon Joanne. She raised the 12 gauge at an angle in the air, bracing the butt against her hip. She waited until they got closer.

            “And fire.” Sam heard Constance say, ears still covered.

            Boom!

            The sounds reverberated through the Hollow. The group stopped instantly in the middle of the road and shut off their motors.

            The leader sat and looked at the woman who now had the shotgun slung over her shoulder, one hip jutted out to the side, her stance wide. Joanne stared them down with a sense of expectancy. The leader kicked out his stand, dismounted, and began walking towards her slowly.

            The men behind him tensed.

            “You,” she started as he came closer, “Should know better by now... Dan.”

            A light, exuberant laughter came from behind the bandana of the doomish looking man. He threw his head back and gave a whoop. With a couple giant strides, he pulled down the cloth over his mouth, grabbed Joanne around the waist and picked her up with a slight twist. She giggled and wrapped her spare arm around his neck, snagging his goggles off his head. His pale green eyes were lost in his smile as he kissed her roughly before twirling her around, the shot gun lodged awkwardly between them. They laughed like foolish children. Constance sighed happily and leaned over to rest her head on Sam’s shoulder who watched them nonplussed.

            “I love it when Dan comes into town. He puts Joanne in such a good mood” she looked up at Pravar.

            He gave her a wink before returning to his pose.

            Dan turned and waved for his friends to park their bikes, the tension from the moment before gone.

            She looked behind him and nodded to the two men who rode to the flank of Dan.

            “Jeremy. Dave.” She nodded at them with a bemused smile. They placed their goggles on the top of their helmets.

            “Good to see you again Joanne.” They said in unison before walking their bikes off the road.

            “Y’all ‘re the loudest bunch.” Joanne chided Dan.

            He smiled, his pearly white teeth flashing in the sun. He set her down, arms still around her.

            “I just wanted you to know I was here” He teased, giving her one last kiss on the forehead before returning to move his bike from the middle of the road.

            “An’ now so does everyone in’na state.” She shot back.

             Joanne gave a contented sigh and walked back into the Mercantile.

            “All right all right.” She waved a dismissive hand at the group on the sidewalk, although she couldn’t hide her smile. “Fun’s over, back ta work.”

            Constance grinned at her and with assistance from Sam, got up and went back into the Lodge. Sam followed Joanne who was already placing the gun back in its spot. She glanced up at Sam.

            “Sorry if I startled ya sugar. Normally don’t pull this out ‘cept for when Aire drags a couple coyot’s in from the desert.”

            Sam shook his head.

            “It’s all right.” He replied.

            “If ya don’t mind helpin’ these gentlemen out. They’re a harmless group, won’t bite.” She said with a slight smile.

            “Well I might.” Dan interjected, striding through the door. “But only her.” He grinned.

            The others filed into the shop behind him, several whispering quick apologies for the noise and paying their respects to Joanne as they walked by.

            “And how’s my favorite cowgirl been?” Dan asked, leaning on the counter. Having taken off his leather bandana, his sandy blonde bangs swept in front of his eyes.

            Joanne propped herself up against counter behind her.

            “Been dandy.” She replied with a warm smile, “What brings you boys out here? Already that time a’ year?”

            Dan nodded.

            “That it is. Annual run for the club. We got some great weather for it too. It was barely misting when we left Berkley.”

            Some of the guys hooted in agreement.

            As Joanne and Dan bantered, Sam looked at the motley crew. He noticed some were the quintessential ideal of what one would suspect a biker to look like- tattoos covering their arms, wind burnt faces and long unruly beards- however others looked like they could be perfectly at home on Wall Street, trading fortunes and eating caviar off the slender belly of a human sushi bar.   

            “It’s rare for someone to be here that I don’t know.” Dan looked was looking at Sam. “New resident?”

            “Ah, this one’s a bit stranded until we find ‘im a safe way home.” Said Joanne, an apologetic look in her eye.

            “Oh? How’d you get stuck here? Not that there isn’t any place better to be stuck in.” Dan asked Sam giving a quick wink to Joanne, Sam drawing his attentions to the conversation after directing one burly man to the swirly straws.

            “It’s a long story.” Sam sighed.

            Dan chuckled. “Aren’t they always?”

            Sam nodded.

            “The long short of it,” Joanne interrupted, “is Sam here needs a ride back ta school in Los Angeles.”

            Sam nodded again.

            “Before Rose figures out I didn’t make it back to the dorms and alerts the National Guard.” He said with a wince. She’d probably try it too, he thought

            “Dorms?” Dan raised an eyebrow, looking Sam up and down. “Isn’t there an age limit?”

            He looked at Joanne. She put up a hand with a slight shake of her head; as always, she’d tell him later.

            Sam gave him an odd look, not understanding what he meant. ‘I’m only 19’, he thought. Joanne gave Sam a quick smile and asked him to ring up the sales of a couple of Dan’s friends as the others still milled about.

            Joanne and Dan talked in lowered voices for a moment down the counter, Joanne quickly recounting what she knew and the how and why Sam was currently stuck there.

            “Oh, I see.” He said. “Well Sam, I’ll tell you what. My friends and I are riding to Corpus Christy in Texas. I’m heading back here after that. If you haven’t found a ride in three days, I’ll check your friend’s machine. If I can’t make it work, I’ll take you home myself. Might not be optimal, but it’s better that nothing.”

            “Thanks, but there’s no need to take me home yourself.” Sam started.

            “It’s not a bother.” Dan interjected, “I have to head back in that direction eventually anyways.”

            “I’m sure yer students are happy ta get rid of ya.” Joanne teased.

            “Nonsense! I’m have an awesome class! And they have a teacher who rocks. It all works out in the end.” Dan laughed.

            At Sam’s quizzical look, Joanne added.

            “Dan here is a tenured professor of Cultural Anthropology at Berkley.”

            Dan puffed out his chest in jest.

            “A rockin’ professor.” He insisted. ”I had them put it on my doctorate even.”

            Joanne rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah.”

          

Contemplations of a Fat Girl: The Mantra Ode de Blubber

    Welcome back to another bout of bountiful contemplation and anecdotal insight from your favorite (or at least congenially amusing) Fat Girl and Bar Stool Shrink (as proclaimed by some very drunk guy a few months back)! Since my last scribblings, I haven't been sure where to go from where I left off. I wanted to explain some fears, but the spectrum is so broad that I don't quite know where to start without straying off the topic and ranting on for a few hours before trying to tie it all in with one last, paragraphically Puckish sentence. So we begin with the mantra every fat person knows.

    Let's start with something personal, shall we? Last week, I drew a rune from a set I've had since right before high school. (This part is important, despite how some people may think it's silly and others may judge me harshly. However, even though I don't prescribe to any religion, my grams, a devote Lutheran, draws runes too; she always has and says it's an important part of out Nordic heritage. So neener-neener. I feel validated.) The rune I drew said, basically, that I'd finally hit my stride in life, that I was accomplishing my

goals and evolving myself nicely (again, paraphrasing). However, I shouldn't start anything new and throw myself at it, because it wouldn't go over like I wanted it too. Well, I've hit my stride at my current workplace, my friends here on the island are freaking solid as the lava that keeps cutting us as waves send us through the washer, I'm going to the gym regularly and seeing small little changes here and there that are enough to make me ecstatic, my hair's even longer! Even with a back injury and cold, it's still been a rocking several months. Then, all of a sudden, there's this cool guy I meet (What? You expected him to be boring? Psh.)! I end up hanging around him a bit. We talk. He walks me home because his place is in the same line. I think, hmm, things are going well, but as the saying so popular in Korean dramas goes, 'I got too greedy.' Suddenly, (I think a friend mentioned something to him), he becomes evasive-ish. Like back in middle school, where that cool kid, you know the one, hears through the grapevine you have the hots for him and for the rest of the year, gives you that awkward sort-of half smile in the hallways and walks past you with expediency. Now, here's the tie-in, even if it's nothing to do with how I look; I could have stuff in my teeth or maybe just a terrible personality, possibly it's just the fates saying, 'Hey, don't freaking ignore us! Rude.' or he's simply not thinking one way or another about me, has nothing even to do with me- all this is beside the point, because my first thought is, and always has been, "It's because I'm fat.".

    There it is! The single, most suffocating, demoralizing and number one reason why fat people find it hard(not impossible) to change. Four, mostly monosyllabic, slightly contracted, words that limit everything we do. In them hides all our fears about ourselves, anxieties for our bodies and judgements on how other people perceive us. It's also our number one excuse.
"It's because I'm fat that I can't start running."
"...That those guys at Best Buy never help me, even when I'm clearly looking dazed and confused."
"...That the hot guy/girl doesn't notice me, but will talk to my hot friends."
"...That I won't get that promotion."
"...That I don't have the courage to talk to that person."
"...That I'm afraid to go to the gym, because everyone will judge me."
"...That I can't wear pretty clothes, I'll look ridiculous, like that Hippo from Fantasia."
"...That we won't be anything more than 'just friends'."
"...That I can't join in, because everyone will see I can't keep up. Or I'll let everyone down."

    The list is pretty infinite and the emphasis varies from person to person; and it's silly to assume that any individual doesn't have those exact same fears for different reasons, whether it's physical, a lack of skills or fear that your personality's lacking; we all have these. Thus, you may think there is no validity here, that it's all a bunch of excuses and whining, but when it's the same saying for everyone who falls into the fat, fluffy and 'Daaamn!' category, it's worth taking note of. Someone, more inspirational than myself, could say, "Just turn the it around! Say, instead, "..."" See, I've got nothing. Truthfully, in the end, one-liners don't work when dealing with a cacophony of others' blithe commentaries and your own viscous voice of self-doubt and loathing(and that's not even me being dramatic). This is because there's a certain level of truth to it. From conscious to subconscious, much of it's a learned behavior, backed up by societal interpretations of the body image. Let's explore one, shall we? With more bulletin points! I know how you've missed them.

Today we'll look at how fat people are effected by the voices and people around them. And there are voices, oh so many voices...

• Parents- That's right, whether you were fat since you were younger, to even older ages, unintentionally or not, any snide, bitchy, flippant or otherwise, comment from a parental unit can start the turning of the brain to the dark side, if it wasn't there already. Even parents who aren't highly affectionate and practically speak in tongues can do irreparable harm to their child's psyche even when they're used it. For instance, "He would have liked you if you if you weren't fat." That's kind of an obvious and scarring one. Or, "He'll need a large size... you know... because he's big..." Obvious statement, but still hurtful. "If you just lost a few pounds, that dress/shirt/pants/skirt/socks/bandana/bathing suit/leg warmers might have looked good on you" Very possible, but why can't something be found that will look good now? Ooh! And a classic, "*pokes at belly fat* Is that a beer baby?" I heard a friends mom say that once, he blushed and tried to 'shoo' her away. They're our parents after all, even if we don't want to admit it, their words can seep into our skins like a chill in the mountains and without proper contemplation, one may never realize how a single comment affected us so directly. 

• Siblings- Oh siblings... Depending on your relationship, the age gap and in which way the 'gap' scale slides (no pun intended), if you have/had a tumultuous relationship with siblings closer to your actual age, on average, you've heard your share of jokes about whatever characteristic you have that isn't flawless; and in a sibling rivalry, there is no such thing as flawless... lest they make fun of you for that. And should their friends band together to tease you- as any good friend would, to take down the evil sibling- then affect is that much greater. On the half, those comments easily bounce off our thickened hides, after all, we're bickering at each other getting our share of shot in too. To the other half... Let's just say I know a very pretty and in-shape lass who truly believed she was fat every time her brother would say so. He was kind of a jerk. After all, like our parents, we see them everyday, and the constant nagging can wear you down like the gazelle being chased by a lion, toying with you until they finally grab you by the jugular and topple you too the ground.
• Friends- Unless they are the no B.S. type and tell you everything straight out, we're don't  believe you when you say we 'look fine' in whatever it is we're asking you about. Whether it's because you're too close to be subjective, not paying attention or just lying through your teeth, the mirror already told us all our flaws that we've spent countless hours obsessing over and if you can't point even one of them out with your awesome Jedi Mind Tricks (which you'll need because a good portion of perceived flaws are nothing out of the ordinary to someone else.), then were going to assume we look worse than we ever actually did.
  This may be geared more towards women...
• Any Guy/Girl- Who gave 'the look' (there's a lot of 'the look's, but there's normally a degree of arrogance mixed with a pinch of disdain), or said something slightly snide/distant about... well... anything frankly- it is taken in and despite many peoples best efforts, internalized as material to build a case as to why you're too fat to talk to the hotties or anyone else for that matter, whether it's at a bar, club, or waiting in line at the neighborhood Safeway. Strangers can utterly shatter the shreds of self confidence a person has been pretending to have. Is it a good thing to care that much? Hell no. But unless they've found solid ground, emotionally, to stand on and stare out at the world unfailingly at, these strangers, whose names they'll never know, will get in and secure all one's insecurities with that single look.   
• Department Store Sales People and Everyone Else- During the production of 'Shallow Hal', Gwyneth Paltrow wore a 25lb fat suit that added nearly 300 extra visible pounds of fake flesh. As she walked through the lobby of the very swanky hotel she was staying in, fully clothed and make-up'ed for the movie, she told reporters later how startling it was to see how people acted around her in her obese state. No one made eye contact and in stores, sales people treated her like Julia Roberts in the beginning of 'Pretty Woman', not wanting to help her and being all-around not what she'd ever experienced before. She is Gwyneth. Freaking. Size 2. Paltrow after all. And was awesome in 'The Producers'. Just saying.
  No matter how you spin it, up until about five years ago, department stores only had a single corner of muumuu'esque looking frocks for plus sized women and men had to go to the Big & Tall stores. Although I don't know how the guys service was, most of the sales people avoided helping you in the women's departments. 

    This is me, keeping it short today. There's a point we all reach, or will(hopefully) where the words of others, although still noticed, begin affecting us less and less and more powerful thoughts override the negativity, such as, 'I won't always be like this.' It's a long-ass road to get to this point. Some people can't do it without the support of family, friends, loved ones or even a group of individuals just like them. Others, even with support, won't reach this point until they've muddled through the swampy waters and had their, 'Oh!' moment and slowly leverage through with their own determinations. Whether it comes from a doctor saying, "Look, in ten years, I'll be golfing in Hawaii. Do you know where you'll be if you keep this shit up? Well, you might have your ashes spread in Hawaii, but unless you believe in a religion, that's going to be about as far as you're going." or realizing you won't be able to play with your kids with the shape your in now- the 'Oh!' moment is imperative. As for me, after getting past numerous fears I can tell you all about later, my 'Oh!' moment was this: "Hey. For a chick who really loves zombies and has a dozen contingency plans for a zombie apocalypse, I won't be able to actually run away, in order to survive. I'll probably be one of those people who's eaten right off the bat, not even turn into a zombie, just end up a smear of blood and a broken ulna on the sidewalk... Well that sucks... I should probably fix that." No joke. That was my motivation. A look at my survival instincts, and lack there of. Also, I want to learn Parkour. I won't be in the right condition to learn it for probably another year or so, but if I don't start now, it'll be even longer... right? Right.


Next time we'll cover fears, especially fears about working out. And I'll try not to write it while falling asleep at 3am, like I did most of this one. Promise! 

Until then! 'Gentles, do not reprehend. If you pardon, we will mend.' Thanks for reading! Now go give a stranger a smile! If nothing else, it'll be amusing for you!

Sincerely,
Dust in the Wind