Posted by Roo on July 19, 2001, at 8:21:42
In reply to Re: wanna write a story? » Wendy B., posted by lissa on July 19, 2001, at 3:14:28
> > > I thought it might be fun for some of us to write a story. If anyone feels like contributing a sentence or paragraph to the story below, please do. No writing expertise required (I certainly haven't got any) -- write whatever comes to mind (oh, and Des Moines is a city in Iowa, USA, for the non-US folks).
> >
> >
> > > Dolores looked down and noticed the muddy spurs of Julio's boots snagging on her dining-room tablecloth. Her politeness and desire to scold him fought a swift battle in her mind. Politeness was the victor. Julio glanced at her face and assumed the sudden narrowing of her eyes and compression of her lips were a sign she was having second thoughts about the plan. Words would surely set her off, he thought; better to proceed without them. He raised his eyebrows, smiled weakly, and waved his arm to the side, displaying the palm of his hand. Dolores nodded, went into the basement, and emerged with a screwdriver. Julio could see her proceed into the kitchen, where the telephone hung. She unscrewed it and detached a small envelope from the wall behind it. Dolores looked down at those spurs again and felt utterly disgusted as she traversed the distance between the kitchen and the dining room. She handed him the envelope and headed back towards the kitchen. Julio tipped his hat in a gesture of thanks, slammed the door behind him, and mounted his pinto horse, leaving despair, Dolores, and Des Moines behind him to pursue his next deal.
> >
Heaving a sigh, Delores went to the refridgerator, pulled out an
"Eckerd-up" (Eckerd's store brand of 7-up), and plopped down on the
couch. She pulled out a camel light from her pack on the coffee table
and lit it with the pack of matches she always kept in her pocket.
Smoking was something she only did when Julio wasn't around. He'd throw
a fit. Smoking wasn't for ladies in his mind. Although he and
his cronies would stay up until the wee hours filling her
clean house with smelly cigar smoke. Oh well, what'cha gonna do?
Inhaling the
smoke deeply, then exhaling it, she realized something with a stab
of anger. Here she was playing the victim again. The poor little wifey who
sits home while he's out having all the fun. Well, not anymore, she thought.
She'd had it with all the late nights, chain smoking on the couch, waiting for
him to return. She stabbed out the cigerette and stood up. She went to her
bedroom to change out of her dowdy housedress to a pair of faded levi's and a
flannel shirt. She opened the door and could feel the crisp night
air on her face. "I'll be back by midnight tomorrow", she told Des Moines, her
black and white cat. Despair, the sulky eyed blood hound stared at
her reproachfully. "Yeah, I love you too", she said, giving him a slap on the
rump, "But I gotta go...I'll be back soon".
poster:Roo
thread:7628
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/social/20010717/msgs/7644.html