You know, I've saved lives. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. I reattached a girl's leg. Her whole leg. She named her hamster after me. I got a hamster. He drops a box of money, he gets a town.

Simon ,'Jaynestown'


The Great Write Way, Chapter Two: Twice upon a time...  

A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.


Daisy Jane - Dec 05, 2006 5:24:11 pm PST #8691 of 10001
"This bar smells like kerosene and stripper tears."

Finally, now that I'm sick, I have time again

Space Between

For forty-five minutes in the Veteran's Park parking lot before first period, we could breathe. The one place we felt free to be kids instead of future scientists, lawyers, doctors, politicians or whatever the hell our parents had dreamed up for us. We weren't debaters, national merit scholars, or mathaletes. We were horny teenagers making out with our boyfriends and girlfriends, taking swigs from our sodas spiked with Schnapps, smoking, rocking to the Femmes. It was the little place we'd carved for ourselves between AP classes and parental pressure.

Thirteen years later, and I haven't been able to get back to that place, even for a half an hour. Somewhere to lay on the hood of a car and forget expectations and responsibilities. Forty-five minutes of freedom before reality comes crashing back in.


sarameg - Dec 05, 2006 5:30:59 pm PST #8692 of 10001

Flagellation

I'm in the lot. I can't seem to move. What was I here for again?

Suddenly, the dailies have caught up with me. I crank the window all the way down, catching the fall's frigid breeze, cooling my hot cheeks and tense jaw. Finish the cigarette. Listen to the stories. Tears well up against my will. So fucking stupid.

I'm sitting in the Target lot, listening to some damned NPR piece, having an existential crisis.

At Target. Could I please have a little more dignity here? Can I be a little less do-nothing middle class bleeding heart?


Daisy Jane - Dec 05, 2006 5:33:05 pm PST #8693 of 10001
"This bar smells like kerosene and stripper tears."

LOVE!!!


sarameg - Dec 05, 2006 5:35:52 pm PST #8694 of 10001

Thanks. Yours made me flash back to hs and realize the lots most familiar involved waiting for my brother, annoyed. Your version is much more evocative (edit: and very much so. Awesome.) It made me think outside that, and I ended up... at Target. Sheesh.


Amy - Dec 05, 2006 5:36:57 pm PST #8695 of 10001
Because books.

Wow, this is a great topic. Everyone's -- Deena, Liese, Daisy Jane -- is fabulous, but sarameg's really hit home.

::applauds::


Daisy Jane - Dec 05, 2006 5:37:23 pm PST #8696 of 10001
"This bar smells like kerosene and stripper tears."

I'm usually in my driveway.


sarameg - Dec 05, 2006 5:39:11 pm PST #8697 of 10001

They've got us pegged, according to pledge drives....


Ginger - Dec 10, 2006 2:26:43 pm PST #8698 of 10001
"It didn't taste good. It tasted soooo horrible. It tasted like....a vodka martini." - Matilda

Parking Lot

The single security light left the parking lot with pools of shadow around the bins of cans, bottles and newspapers. "I should have done this earlier," I thought, jumping when a gust of wind set a stray can rattling across the empty parking lot. A Harley roared into the parking lot, and the burly driver, head to toe in black leather, drove the bike around and around me. As he stopped, I mentally measured the distance to my car. He held up a pizza box. "Where's the cardboard recycling?" I pointed. He tossed the box into the bin and was gone.


javachik - Dec 10, 2006 2:58:34 pm PST #8699 of 10001
Our wings are not tired.

Nice, Ginger.


Connie Neil - Dec 10, 2006 3:07:28 pm PST #8700 of 10001
brillig

Stranger in a Strange Land

The security guard paused in front of me. "You can't take your camera in."

He looked horrified when I looked straight back at him and said, "Well, fuck."

I crept along with the rest of the line, laughing behind my sunglasses at the black and the piercings and the plaid and the attempts to put short Utah haircuts up into inch-high mohawks. They waited for me to freak, then looked increasingly uneasy as I just smiled faintly.

I was in the same hundred-square-yard space as Billy Idol. As if I'd let the Warped Tour crowd intimidate me from that.