Jump to content

Welcome to Nightly.Net
Register now to gain access to all of our features. Once registered and logged in, you will be able to create topics, post replies to existing threads, give reputation to your fellow members, get your own private messenger, post status updates, manage your profile and so much more. If you already have an account, login here - otherwise create an account for free today!
Photo

Contest Entry


12 replies to this topic

#1
brutoole

brutoole

    Member

  • Members
  • 244 posts
“I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date! No time to say hello, goodbye! I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!”
As far as morning routines go mine is simple. No kids to wake up and help get ready for school no lunches to pack no breakfast to make. I wake up look at the bedside clock, hit snooze, seven minutes later I hit snooze again, seven minutes after that I reset the alarm. In darkness I stumble slide off of the right side of the bed stepping over and through piles of clothes. I bump my shin on the dresser by the bedroom door, curse softly and swear to jebus that I am moving the damn dresser before I ever scrape my shin again. I limp through the hallway take a left into the bathroom shut the door and flick the light switch on the right. I proceed with my morning ablutions. Check the time on clock sitting on top of the toilet tank. I have been asked why I need a clock in the bathroom. I’ll confess I am vain. I am aware vanity is a fault so I limit myself to owning one mirror. The mirror is in the bathroom. I am easily distracted by my reflection decorated with colorful pretty things and the bathroom is full of such girlish delights. I have a clock to remind myself that I have places to go and people to see. my bathroom clock is a broken I swear to replace the broken clock every time I run late including today. Lucky clock and dresser I don’t have time to fool with you today, or yesterday and I probably won’t have time tomorrow. I scamper back to the bedroom and as quietly as I can I rummage thru the piles of clothes, frantically dress and pray my nighttime eye makeup doesn’t scare too many folks as I grab my keys and dash out of the house.

I unlock my car as I struggle into my cardigan once again blessing the technology that makes remote entry possible. I climb into my car kicking aside shoes laying on the floorboards that never seem to make it into the house. Fortunately I see the shoes I want to wear today and I have plenty of gas in the tank. I spend a minute or two considering whether I should charge my phone or my iPod before I remember I’m running behind schedule. @$#%#@! I hurtle out of the driveway and head downtown.

The morning is cool and damp. The road is blanketed with thick fog. The entire world seems wet and gray. I debate rolling down my windows or using outside air to defrost the windshield. I sacrifice my hair to the humidity in exchange for the cool beads of water that collect on my face and hair as I speed thru the gray. I close my eyes lost in a memory of running into fog with my arms spread wide in a field of brown dry grass and dark rustling leaves thinking this was as close to soaring thru the clouds that I would ever be. My eyes fly open with the blare of a car horn. Memory forgotten and eyes now focused firmly on the road I can barely make out the taillights in front of me. The fog seems to disperse a bit and I spy an inmate road crew lined along the street and it looks like they are picketing. I am coming to a stop three cars back from the light and I take a closer look. they aren’t inmates they are just dressed in inmate or hunter orange from top to bottom. I notice two men even have on orange sneakers. I focus on the signs, I feel like screaming but I am sure that if I open my mouth I will vomit. The signs are black, gray and red. The red is violent and fresh in the dim gray morning. The illustrated signs don’t have words the pictures are more than enough. Black trash bags piled with gray babies splashed with red poster paint. Not exactly what I was hoping to see this gray foggy morning.

I feel sick. I hear a chant start up from the line. I close my eyes but the images are carved into the inside of my eyelids. I open my eyes to see an orange clad individual running from car to car, thrusting fliers at windows and windshields. He turns toward my car and my eyes lock on him. For a minute his face is a face I know. I blink and realize he is a stranger. He can’t be over thirty, he has large light-colored round eyes, a shock of lank brown hair and the orange scrubs he is wearing makes his long smooth face resemble nothing so much as a freckled egg. He shoves a handful of fliers thru my window. I coldly stare at him as my window slowly inches up. He opens his fleshly mouth to speak, raising his voice as the window closes “How many babies did you allow to die today?” He places another flier on my windshield it reads, “Abortion causes Breast Cancer”. I follow his progress thru the rest of the cars. To my left I notice a mini-van mother soothing her children all safely restrained in booster seats as they point first at the egg-headed man then back to the signs. I look to my right and I see a late model car with a lone woman occupant, a well-dressed redhead staring stoically forward as her tears create dark furrows down her cheeks.

I don’t know what the mini-van mother is telling her children and I don’t know when the redhead will realize she is crying. As the taillights in front of me lose their red halos and the traffic starts to flow my thoughts solidify to anger against these men in their criminal colored garb and I wish that the fog would turn to rain. A heavy driving rain, violent enough to clear the street of protesting men, their fliers and signs.

I speed down the street and the line of picketers stretches clear to the Health Center where an orange mob has formed. I hesitate as I near my intended destination. The crowd tenses, as time seems to slow. A car horn blares time returns to normal I accelerate towards the right turn only lane. I’m going to buy a clock because “I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date! No time to say hello, goodbye! I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!”

#2
Basil2

Basil2

    Finger-banger

  • Banned Users
  • 424 posts
Nice!

I like how the story sneaks up on you.

#3
brutoole

brutoole

    Member

  • Members
  • 244 posts
Thank you.

#4
ElfinYoda

ElfinYoda

    Oh my god Becky, look at her Big Book...

  • Members
  • 7,184 posts
very nice brutoole!

Can I ask you what inspired this story?

#5
brutoole

brutoole

    Member

  • Members
  • 244 posts

very nice brutoole!

Can I ask you what inspired this story?


I typed out all the items on cardstock then cut them out and dumped them in an empty ice cream container that I keep on my desk as a yes or no oracle. I don't trust Magic 8-ball. I pulled out five items and moved them around in front of me like puzzle pieces. Then I tried to write a story. FAIL. I tried to write another story. FAIL. I went thru all my old blogs searching for any of the five items. I found a blog entry I had written about a year ago. I was late to work it was foggy and I was running twenty minutes late. A red light left me parked directly in front of an anti-abortion picket or rally or whatever they are called. The deadline was coming up so I went with this.

#6
Nixie

Nixie

    showing all my haters love

  • Members
  • 2,166 posts
i love your story a lot bru, but i love the story of how you wrote it even more! lol: that is great! :)

#7
brutoole

brutoole

    Member

  • Members
  • 244 posts

i love your story a lot bru, but i love the story of how you wrote it even more! lol: that is great! :)

Thanks, Nixie. I live to entertain! A-N-D Have you written anything else you are willing to share?

#8
Copper

Copper

    I am groot

  • Member
  • 12,595 posts
This felt different than your usual style for me, brutoole. Not to say that it's bad, because it's not. Just different. There's something almost frantic about it which begins with the "I'm late...!" and just steamrolls into this sneaky story about our actions and how they effect others and what those consequences are. It's quite enjoyable indeed.

I particularly enjoyed this line:

I don’t know what the mini-van mother is telling her children and I don’t know when the redhead will realize she is crying.


the last bit about the redhead has been my favorite inclusion of the crying redhead so far.

#9
Antilla

Antilla

    ET phone gnome

  • Members
  • 1,151 posts
I imagined the grey babies looking like aliens - with elongated heads and mirror shine eyes. But. I don't know why.

#10
Sonny

Sonny

    Scared of MonkeyDog

  • Members
  • 3,598 posts
I also liked this and like Nixie I also enjoyed your story of how you wrote this. Haha

How long was the actual writing process for you once you figured out what your story was going to be?

#11
brutoole

brutoole

    Member

  • Members
  • 244 posts

This felt different than your usual style for me, brutoole. Not to say that it's bad, because it's not. Just different. There's something almost frantic about it which begins with the "I'm late...!" and just steamrolls into this sneaky story about our actions and how they effect others and what those consequences are. It's quite enjoyable indeed.

I particularly enjoyed this line:

I don’t know what the mini-van mother is telling her children and I don’t know when the redhead will realize she is crying.


the last bit about the redhead has been my favorite inclusion of the crying redhead so far.


Well thanks. I've always been partial to redheads myself. This story and the last story I entered seem a little off to me. I'm not sure I like the direction I am taking. Next contest should be about aliens or pod people or UNICORNS!

I imagined the grey babies looking like aliens - with elongated heads and mirror shine eyes. But. I don't know why.


cause all babies look like aliens. FACT! (I think they are aliens)
ps you are awesome
pss you should let me clone you
psss I will pay you in cupcakes


I also liked this and like Nixie I also enjoyed your story of how you wrote this. Haha

How long was the actual writing process for you once you figured out what your story was going to be?


Less than eight hours. hmm that's probably a lie. I'm not sure how long it took. Typed it all out one afternoon (hour to hour and a half) then whined that I didn't have a beta reader. Went home whined some more. Watched some TV. Forgot all about the story. The day of the deadline I opened the document printed it out on pink paper (I have to use colored paper for drafts) crossed out random sentences then reprinted-repeat-repeat-repeat. That took two to three hours.
I can go home tonight and look at the time stamp on the printouts and get back to you :)

#12
ElfinYoda

ElfinYoda

    Oh my god Becky, look at her Big Book...

  • Members
  • 7,184 posts
I too am a fan of how this story got started! I just like hearing about everyone's different ways they use to get a story to show itself. :)

Now, I will admit to being a bit puzzled. Was she going to the abortion clinic to have an abortion or worked there or was she not even going to the clinic at all? I could not piece together if she was late for work or late as in she was preggers. Not that it matters, it does not change the tone of your story for me at all, just curious. :)

#13
brutoole

brutoole

    Member

  • Members
  • 244 posts

I too am a fan of how this story got started! I just like hearing about everyone's different ways they use to get a story to show itself. :)

Now, I will admit to being a bit puzzled. Was she going to the abortion clinic to have an abortion or worked there or was she not even going to the clinic at all? I could not piece together if she was late for work or late as in she was preggers. Not that it matters, it does not change the tone of your story for me at all, just curious. :)

she didn't work there.



Reply to this topic