For this slice of life I thought I would give you a slice of my writing. Writing is one of the many pieces that make up my life pie. Enjoy this bite and hopefully one day it will become a full dessert for you to savor.
Focal Point
In the desert night a shift occurred, as if God sighed resigning that the air and land had been tortured enough from the brutal heat. Santiago perched always alert on the rocks. Allowing his eyes to adjust and welcoming the cool darkness that shrouded him. There she lay curled into a tiny ball, an infant cradled into imaginary hands, inhaling a steady, subtle rhythm. He saw the moment she felt the shift in the air, her rigid face relaxing with a deep breath. With precision his eyes fixed on her, a focal point luring him deeper into his thoughts. What was he doing here? He knew this fantasy wouldn’t last. Tomorrow they would both be dead. As the thought formed in his mind his body remained unfazed; nothing in him deserved any mourning for his own life. How many lives had he taken without offering them any warning of their last night. At least his death was eminent rather then immediate, allowing him one more night. For what, he thought?
The sand crunched under the girl’s body as she unfurled herself; stretching her slender limbs like a flower reaching for the sunlight. Tendrils of curls sprayed around her narrow face, almost that of a fox he thought with a dark mane of a lion. What lay behind this almost feral, half fox half lioness creature before him?
“I’m sorry,” He uttered feeling the words dissipate the moment they left his mouth, as he mentally added her to his list. Though he wouldn’t be the one to pull the trigger he lead her to her last day. He leaned back against his backpack using it as a crude pillow, the thought filling him washing him in exhaustion. There was nothing he could do in this moment. The night in its darkest wrapped around him, the cool air caressing his burnt skin. His watch read 1:17, granting him permission to sleep a few hours. He set the alarm for 3:30 wanting to get moving before the sun rose. Even though the end was certain in his mind; he wouldn’t surrender with a white flag. His legs stretched out before him allowing him to recline back with his gaze still fixed on the girl. As his eyes closed shut his last view was a spread of dark curls on sand.
Prayer
Paula sat on the worn and ripped cloth seats. The car smelled musty, she wondered how long it had been growing in front of the house. She had never seen that abandoned house before, but Alejandro knew exactly where it was.
Did he know where they were going now? She leaned against the window and felt it’s solid glass against her temple and cheek. She had to press harder into it to keep from bouncing as her brother sped down the highway. They had long passed the roads that led out to their ranch, passing the village where her school lay dormant for summer. Now she stared out at unfamiliar scenery along a winding single lane road. Her thoughts drifted what would happen if a bus passed them taking the curve just a bit too wide?
She had heard stories of busses crashing from such accidents. Closing her eyes she forced the thought from her mind, before her imagination had formed any more horrific images She had seen enough horror earlier. Wishing she could just erase her mind from everything, busses, gun shots, and the blood. If only she had a clean sheet of paper in her brain, blank, smooth and crisp white. The sun had already set low in the sky and stars emerged as she closed her eyes. All she could see before sleep took hold of her were pages of white paper thumbed before her.
When she awoke the van was dark and still. Rubbing her eyes and trying to straighten her sniff neck; she was alone. Panic attacked her jolting her on high alert. Sitting up straight she reached for the door handle, it was locked. Fumbling she fought to pull up the slick plastic lock unable to get a secure grip. In her panic she saw her brother walking back, a silhouette in the neon lights behind him.
Her fingers finally steadied as she pulled the plastic piece and opened the door. The cool night air rushing in, filling her lungs, as Alejandro reached her.
“You’re awake, we’re staying here for the night.” He said to his shoes still unable to look at her. “You can shower and then we can eat. There’s a restaurant next door.”
He was already around to the driver’s side pulling out his duffle bag. Paula still sat in the passengers seat letting her legs stretch. Her sneakers grazing over the pavement; tracing the cracks in the ground. The driver’s side door slammed shut surprising her with its loud click.
“I got you some clothes earlier. You were still asleep and I didn’t want to wake you.” He handed her a yellow plastic bag. She stepped out of the van her legs feeling unsteady now on solid ground. Taking the bag she kept her eyes down.
“Thanks.” She whispered. Following him they walked down to a motel door entrance the paint cracked and peeling around the edges of the door. Alejandro pushed in the key hearing a click and walked through the door. The room assaulted them with dank, moldy smells and cigarette smoke. The AC pulled from the wall and the room dimly lit from a side lamp toped with a crooked and yellowed shade. The single bed sagged forming almost a frown.
Without a word Paula walked to the restroom and locked the door. Pulling the toilet seat down she sat for a moment examining the cracked tiles. Noticing the towels all slightly differing shades of white, off white, and off white eggshell. Bowing her head she let out a breath while her eyes closes shut; she said a prayer. Silent words pouring from deep inside her until no other words existed within her.
A knock at the door rattled her from her bowed position.
“You ok?”
“Yeah, I’ll be out in a few minutes.” Bending down further toward the grimy tile she gently pulled her shoes and socks revealing a line of filth around her ankle. She threw her socks into the trash. Eventually making her way to the shower. Allowing the cold to comfort her. She hated cold water, but for some reason cold water seemed more appropriate. Numbing her. Maybe she could scrub the memories from her skin. Lather them from her hair and watch them slip down the drain.
