Journal entry

A majority of my entries, it seems, have been nonfiction about myself and my opinions. This afternoon, I'd like to take a moment and do a brief sketch...as requested from my writing exercise book-Something titled "The Closet."

THE CLOSET

Cindy loved the apartment just as much as she loved her boyfriend. It fit their personalities perfectly. The ceilings were exceptionally high, resulting in doorways that he did not have to bob his head through and had the wonderful added treat of small windows at the top that were opened copper stilts on the doorframes.

It was the stuff that writers dreamed of. From the modern computer, they could look down the hallway, across the red floorboards and see the original stained glass from 1881.

She could not just walk away from the place. She could not just walk away from him.

But he insisted.

She appreciated, what she could, of his candor. He had everything neatly packaged up as soon as he spoke of the break up. It was as if he did it prior, and, now that she pondered it, he probably did. James had always planned ahead.

Which only exasperated her shock and made it so hard to move back to the suburbs. Normally he would have telegraphed his impending exit with snippets here and there. Like when he planned her surprise party. She saw him working on it for weeks beforehand. It took her all of her strength to act like she had no idea.

She couldn't remember if she turned the engine off as she leaned against the hood of the car. There was no hum, but she was never that machincal.

She looked to the intersection. He could not even see his brakelights anymore either.

The key copy was the neighbor's. They had known about the breakup-proof positive that he was planning ahead. She was also surprised at their willingness to hand over the keys to her when she explained that it was hers and not his. They were not watching now, at least, not through any windows she could see.

He had cleaned out everything. Even the corkboard over the kitchen's phone has small gaps where he had pulled out pictures she had found interesting. She was too upset to remember if they were in the boxes he had handed over to her. She didn't care.

With a scream, she yanked the wooden frame. Small wisps of dust exited where the nails that held the piece up were dislodged.

She did not realized she was sneering at the hard floor where the board had collapsed.

She sighed and went upstairs. She had not found the answer yet. She entered the bedroom and stared.

The fourposters looked at her as if she was a stranger. She realized that her memory of the room was so different--a place of vibrant energy where they connected on occasion was now cold. She felt like she was looking at the original owners furniture set-a museum piece.

The stillness vibrated her to movement. She reached for the top drawer and laced her fingers into the handle and began to slowly pull.

The sneer returned.

She stopped when a sound joined the silence. A car door. A man's voice.

James had returned. She knew the routine sounds from living here once. She looked around knowing that his might happen.

The closet door was closed-James had a thing for keeping doors closed--so she grabbed the bold brass handle and opened it out only as much as was needed to enter. She knew she'd have to pull it closed behind her, but the older frame would give her enough opening to see and hear when the coast was clear.

She looked around. Exactly half of the closet was empty from his cleaning.

She tried to discern the voices as best as she could. She could only hear one man's voice.

Only it wasn't James.

And they were coming up the stairs. The pattern of the walk, however, was hurried, troubled. Quick and then slow, the mens' voices started and stopped with urgency.

Cindy's heart filled in the gaps that were missing from her sight. The men were being intimate.

On the stairs!

HER STAIRS.

She loooked around the closet in part for distraction, in part of something to fill her palms. Her heart lept again.

They had entered the bedroom. The casual conversation had morphed into a frantic grunting and huffing, James creating one-half of the cacophony.

The sneer did not escape.

The noise had a flavor to it that she did not appreciate. She could sense their smiles and giggles.

The men did not waste much time as the bed coils protested the sudden weight. There was no questioning, no pardons and no hesitancy. These men knew each other for some time. Cindy angled her head so that both of her eyes were in vertical line along the doorframe and the light of the far window could illuminate the space of the room

Two pairs of feet, three socks and one shoe, all intertwined before the baseboard. Clothes were still on. The panting and kissing continued.

Get on with it, she hissed in her brain, have sex! Let me see the reason I am failure!

She continued to watch, her own pattern of breathing increasing.

Both men stopped. The male on top must have rolled over. He touched a toe to the heel of a shoe and flicked it with enough force to send it over the footboard and onto the floor.

"Is that my phone?" James voice asked the nameless partner.

"No, doesn't sound like one of your rings."

"Is it your phone?"

There was some rustling and the other man spoke, "didn't bring it in."

Cindy stood upright and hit her hip.

Her phone was in the kitchen.

And was still ringing.

Sorry, 500 word limit here, folks, so I have to stop!

Welcome back

I've always been angry when I hear comments like, "everyone's more rude today," or "today's worse then it was!"

Um, it's like DUH, people. Nothing is like it used to be. It can't be. When standards are changing and trends are moving in different directions, so point out that things of any manner are different then they used to be is like someone taking a survey on if everyone points up for "up."

The fact of the matter also is that there will always be the basics in life. For as much good we are capable of, there can be (but not 'must be) an equal piece of evil. For every thrill we experience, there must be a payback.

As I look upon today's topic, I cannot think of a single THING I'd remove. I love technology--after all, I'm on a blog as it is. But to 'uninvent' would be to step backwards in time, to seek something that we've obviously needed. And, yes, guns are needed, I'm sad to say. I believe they have unnecessary power that they shouldn't and I choose to never pick one up. But, at the same times, they'd be invented as a natural progression of weaponary, frankly. To remove them would me something else would rise up like a phoenix...and the consequences would most likely be the same.

No. For me, the one thing I'd uninvent would be something not as tangible or visible. But, also, like the gun--it would show up nonetheless.

Hate. I'd like to uninvent it.

I know, I know. This contradicts my previous statements, that being that hate is as necessary and love. But I cannot help thinking of a time, long ago, when cave-dude alpha stood up with this cave-dudette prime and they looked out on the world. There were no killings and every single tribe loved each. They didn't hate the sabertooth who bit them, they could not hate the disease that took their children. The imprint would have been burned into their collective DNA and then, as the centuries past, every human on the planet would try to strive to that point...a point where they could not hate any more.

Nowadays, that doesn't happen. Everyone claims to want peace, but they do little to fix it. I think of it when I hear of people complaining of education...that it's out of whack. So they'll vote to cut budgets and not become teachers themselves. Or they'll yell about global warming, but still chain smoke in their Hummers.

I don't hate them, mind you, but I am aware of them.

So, for a brief moment, I wish we could remove that disgusting place...hate. A smile again at each other.


If you could "uninvent" one thing in the world so it would not exist, what would you choose?