I sit here waiting for the inevitable
One hour left
Draining
I have things to do but my brain is muddled
Not good
Wearing
Voacbulary that I need to know
Runs through my head
Exhausiting
The last exam is always the hardest to get through
I've got no more modivation
Energyless
Monday, December 20, 2004
Monday's poetry exam
These werethe poems on monday's poetry exam:
ANDREW MOTION
Anne Frank Huis
Even now, after twice her lifetime of grief
and anger in the very place, whoever comes
to climb these narrow stairs, discovers how
the bookcase slides aside, then walks through
shadow into sunlit rooms, can never help
but break her secrecy again. Just listening
is a kind of guilt. The Westerkerk repeats
itself outside, as if all time worked round
toward her fear, and made each stroke die
down on guarded streets. Imagine it --
three years of whispering and loneliness
and plotting, day by day, the Allied line
in Europe with a yellow chalk. What hope
she had for ordinary love and interest
survives her here, displayed above the bed
as pictures of her family; some actors;
fashions chosen by Princess Elizabeth.
And those who stoop to see them find
not only patience missing its reward,
but one enduring wish for chances like
my own: to leave as simply as I do,
and walk where couples drift at ease
up dusty tree-lined avenues, or watch
a silent barge come clear of bridges
settling their reflection in the blue canal.
___________________________________
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How Do I Love Thee?
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
ANDREW MOTION
Anne Frank Huis
Even now, after twice her lifetime of grief
and anger in the very place, whoever comes
to climb these narrow stairs, discovers how
the bookcase slides aside, then walks through
shadow into sunlit rooms, can never help
but break her secrecy again. Just listening
is a kind of guilt. The Westerkerk repeats
itself outside, as if all time worked round
toward her fear, and made each stroke die
down on guarded streets. Imagine it --
three years of whispering and loneliness
and plotting, day by day, the Allied line
in Europe with a yellow chalk. What hope
she had for ordinary love and interest
survives her here, displayed above the bed
as pictures of her family; some actors;
fashions chosen by Princess Elizabeth.
And those who stoop to see them find
not only patience missing its reward,
but one enduring wish for chances like
my own: to leave as simply as I do,
and walk where couples drift at ease
up dusty tree-lined avenues, or watch
a silent barge come clear of bridges
settling their reflection in the blue canal.
___________________________________
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How Do I Love Thee?
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
Teasing Your Prey
This is the sequel to Playing With Your Food
Xavier paced his bedroom. The sun had yet to go down and he was itching to go out. His childe Charlotte had not returned home before sunrise and he was impatient to find her. She'd never been unable to come home, and Xavier worried about what could have happened. She wasn't dust, he was sure of that. He could still feel the bond between the two of them coursing through his blood.
"Bloody hell, where is that chit?! If she isn't injured or captured she'll be tortured violently." He went over to the cart he kept his blood in and poured himself a glass. "Stupid Bint." He cursed as he took a sip of the sweet elixer.
"Master, I've arranged the boys." A voice said from behind him.
"Good. Make sure that they're out looking for her as soon as night falls. Tell them that if they return fed and she isn't found, that they'll be dust."
"Yes Master."
Xavier waved the minion away and turned back to the curtained windows.
In the distance he heard the sounds of bombs falling in large numbers onto central London. Buying the mansion outside the city had been a very wize idea. One given to him by his childe. His now missing childe.
"Sire, they've started bombing again." His second in command came back to tell him.
"I can hear them, Charles. I'm going deaf, bu I'm not deaf yet."
"Of coarse, master, I didn't mean to imply-"
"Get on with it!" Xavier cut him off.
"The boys are scared to go. They fear the airraids."
"Tell them that who ever doesn't go out at night fall will enjoy a lovely crucifing with a premiere viewing to the rising sun!" His angry voice carried. He knew that the minions would hear it and out of fear follow orders.
Sitting in an armchair before the fireplace he closed his eyes and listened to the glorifying sounds of death and destruction. His demon both lept with joy and raiated fear. The thick minions he had wouldn't even know where to begin, which meant that he would have to go into the bombing night himself.
The night would fall in minutes and Xavier could feel he setting sun in what seemed like jolts on his cold skin. It wouldn't be long now, a few more minutes. Drinking down the rest of the crimson fluid he stood up to get ready. With the few remaning minutes he'd called for his coat and given instructions to his minions to find Charlotte. Then, as soon as the sun had set they had all left to find her.
Taking only Charles with him, Xavier drove towards the center of the city. The first place to look was in the subway system. Hundreds of people would have retreated down into it when the curtain of lights and bombs began to pour over the city.
They were closed off. It took them a moment to get inside. Those behind the closed doors were more than reluctant to open them for the two males. The bombs were coming down more frequently and also closer to their location. They quickly passed through the barrier and made their way down into the subway system.
Hundereds of people where hudeled down in the tunnels. Subways had continued moving so that family members would be able to locate one another. If Xavier hadn't been so focused in finding his childe, he might have taken a moment to admire all the food just walking around him, unaware of the danger that threatened them even here, in what they thought was a safe haven.
After looking around the station, Xavier and Charles spent the better part of the day strategically moving from station to station. It wasn't until close to sundown that they seemed to find the lost childe- with a young lad in her arms.
"But Gregory, it would be so much fun. We could stroll around at night together and not have to worry about these damned bombs."
"No young lady should be out at night by herself." He commented back in his pompus voice.
"But, you'll be with me, so I have nothing to fear." She commented batting her eyes.
Xavier could hear her playful voice, and knew she was playing with what was little more than a boy. "I quite agree." He spoke up, making his presence known.
Both sets of eyes turned to him. "Daddy, I knew you'd find me."
"I'm very cross with you, Charlotte. You promised me that you'd be home before the sun set."
"I know, but then I met Thomas." She smiled, hunger from her kill still in her eyes.
"Who's Thomas?" Gregory asked.
"And then I ran into an Andrew. He tasted funny though, like plastic." She looked thoughtful as she relived her earlier hours. "And then, the bombs started falling so I came down here. There was this very small girl called Cathrine. She smelled like chocolate. Can I have some daddy?"
"Andrew? Cathrine?" The boy was confused.
"When we get home, luv. Now, quickly finish up and we'll get out of here."
"But there are so many more down here, sire, all unable to escape. It's like a buffet, all we have to do is choose which ones are the juicyest."
"Very well. But, please do finish up here."
"Yes, sire." She said.
Xavier watched as she leaned down and kissed the neck just under her lips and with a quick motion that she had been taught by him after her turning, she attacked his neck. She seemed almost delicate with her food, not allowing a drop of blood to escape. Chaucer came to mind as he recited the small section of the prioress, from the prologue, in his head. She seemed almost dainty in her kill.
Moments later the lifeless body was dropped to the floor.
From her sleve Charlotte pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed her lips. With a wide smile she bounced over to Xavier and took his arm. "Now, where shall we hunt?"
Xavier smiled and looked over at Charles. "Charles? Where do you suggest?"
"I do believe I remember hearing that they were housing all the orphans at Charings Cross. I'm sure Miss Charlotte would enjoy the robust taste their blood gives."
Xavier smiled. "I do belive you're right, Charles."
Charlotte seemed to skip next to him. "Maybe we can play ring-around-the-roses." She smiled, her eyes showing her sinister disposition. She licked her lips in good measure and looked up at the older vampire.
"I'm sure they'd love to, pet."
END
Xavier paced his bedroom. The sun had yet to go down and he was itching to go out. His childe Charlotte had not returned home before sunrise and he was impatient to find her. She'd never been unable to come home, and Xavier worried about what could have happened. She wasn't dust, he was sure of that. He could still feel the bond between the two of them coursing through his blood.
"Bloody hell, where is that chit?! If she isn't injured or captured she'll be tortured violently." He went over to the cart he kept his blood in and poured himself a glass. "Stupid Bint." He cursed as he took a sip of the sweet elixer.
"Master, I've arranged the boys." A voice said from behind him.
"Good. Make sure that they're out looking for her as soon as night falls. Tell them that if they return fed and she isn't found, that they'll be dust."
"Yes Master."
Xavier waved the minion away and turned back to the curtained windows.
In the distance he heard the sounds of bombs falling in large numbers onto central London. Buying the mansion outside the city had been a very wize idea. One given to him by his childe. His now missing childe.
"Sire, they've started bombing again." His second in command came back to tell him.
"I can hear them, Charles. I'm going deaf, bu I'm not deaf yet."
"Of coarse, master, I didn't mean to imply-"
"Get on with it!" Xavier cut him off.
"The boys are scared to go. They fear the airraids."
"Tell them that who ever doesn't go out at night fall will enjoy a lovely crucifing with a premiere viewing to the rising sun!" His angry voice carried. He knew that the minions would hear it and out of fear follow orders.
Sitting in an armchair before the fireplace he closed his eyes and listened to the glorifying sounds of death and destruction. His demon both lept with joy and raiated fear. The thick minions he had wouldn't even know where to begin, which meant that he would have to go into the bombing night himself.
The night would fall in minutes and Xavier could feel he setting sun in what seemed like jolts on his cold skin. It wouldn't be long now, a few more minutes. Drinking down the rest of the crimson fluid he stood up to get ready. With the few remaning minutes he'd called for his coat and given instructions to his minions to find Charlotte. Then, as soon as the sun had set they had all left to find her.
Taking only Charles with him, Xavier drove towards the center of the city. The first place to look was in the subway system. Hundreds of people would have retreated down into it when the curtain of lights and bombs began to pour over the city.
They were closed off. It took them a moment to get inside. Those behind the closed doors were more than reluctant to open them for the two males. The bombs were coming down more frequently and also closer to their location. They quickly passed through the barrier and made their way down into the subway system.
Hundereds of people where hudeled down in the tunnels. Subways had continued moving so that family members would be able to locate one another. If Xavier hadn't been so focused in finding his childe, he might have taken a moment to admire all the food just walking around him, unaware of the danger that threatened them even here, in what they thought was a safe haven.
After looking around the station, Xavier and Charles spent the better part of the day strategically moving from station to station. It wasn't until close to sundown that they seemed to find the lost childe- with a young lad in her arms.
"But Gregory, it would be so much fun. We could stroll around at night together and not have to worry about these damned bombs."
"No young lady should be out at night by herself." He commented back in his pompus voice.
"But, you'll be with me, so I have nothing to fear." She commented batting her eyes.
Xavier could hear her playful voice, and knew she was playing with what was little more than a boy. "I quite agree." He spoke up, making his presence known.
Both sets of eyes turned to him. "Daddy, I knew you'd find me."
"I'm very cross with you, Charlotte. You promised me that you'd be home before the sun set."
"I know, but then I met Thomas." She smiled, hunger from her kill still in her eyes.
"Who's Thomas?" Gregory asked.
"And then I ran into an Andrew. He tasted funny though, like plastic." She looked thoughtful as she relived her earlier hours. "And then, the bombs started falling so I came down here. There was this very small girl called Cathrine. She smelled like chocolate. Can I have some daddy?"
"Andrew? Cathrine?" The boy was confused.
"When we get home, luv. Now, quickly finish up and we'll get out of here."
"But there are so many more down here, sire, all unable to escape. It's like a buffet, all we have to do is choose which ones are the juicyest."
"Very well. But, please do finish up here."
"Yes, sire." She said.
Xavier watched as she leaned down and kissed the neck just under her lips and with a quick motion that she had been taught by him after her turning, she attacked his neck. She seemed almost delicate with her food, not allowing a drop of blood to escape. Chaucer came to mind as he recited the small section of the prioress, from the prologue, in his head. She seemed almost dainty in her kill.
Moments later the lifeless body was dropped to the floor.
From her sleve Charlotte pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed her lips. With a wide smile she bounced over to Xavier and took his arm. "Now, where shall we hunt?"
Xavier smiled and looked over at Charles. "Charles? Where do you suggest?"
"I do believe I remember hearing that they were housing all the orphans at Charings Cross. I'm sure Miss Charlotte would enjoy the robust taste their blood gives."
Xavier smiled. "I do belive you're right, Charles."
Charlotte seemed to skip next to him. "Maybe we can play ring-around-the-roses." She smiled, her eyes showing her sinister disposition. She licked her lips in good measure and looked up at the older vampire.
"I'm sure they'd love to, pet."
END
Jack
Lecture on the Chrinicles of Jack given by Jackoline Jackson at the University of Jacksville, Jackpot. 1st of november 2004
These are the accounts of Jack. Not chronicles, for most accounts are as short as a sentence. For example: “Jack was born.” This three-word sentence holds such meaning. Jack was created and then lived among us from that point on. The importance of this sentence is almost incomprehensible for those who are not from Jackpot. The length of the sentence only makes it seem to to the point, for outsiders, but Jackpotters didn’t intend it as that. Rather, the reason is because there is no information available. It is unknown when and to whom he was born, merely that he was born. There are speculations to where, however: the General Hospital, under a weeping willow, in a bus stop- but nothing concrete. It is also thought that when he died, or disappeared, or abducted, depending on whom you ask, Jack was thought to be thirty, in that case offering a rough estimate in the year. Even this, though, is not entirely set in stone; as other resources say that he was ‘just a boy, and barely a man,’ which would imply that he was closer to being a teenager. Hence the fact that we merely say that he was born and rejoice in it.
Other short accounts, for example: Jack and the Pilgrim, are told as bedtime stories to little children with short attention spans and just want to go to sleep: “Jack walked down the dusty road on a rainy day. Half way he encountered a Pilgrim. ‘Well met, fine sir,’ he said and the Pilgrim groaned in greeting. Then the two of them parted.” There are many different interpretations of this account. Some believe that the fact that Jack walked a dusty road while it rained implied that he walked the road regularly to know that it was dusty. Others say that wherever Jack stepped, it would automatically dry- that he used supernatural powers in order to keep from getting wet. The latter is the more plausible of the two, for if Jack indeed walked the road regularly, he would have been recognized and there would have been more written in the accounts.
It is also not known where he was talking to when he met the Pilgrim. Nor is it known where he was walking from, simply that he was walking. A diary entry of an unknown Pilgrim tells of a story with such an encounter. The Pilgrim though, stated that the man he encountered between Arock and Ahardplace, seemed to him to be a man of the cloth, which too seems unlikely, considering the story the third account in the Jack and Jill scripts. In the third and last part of the parchment it tells of Jack trying to become intimate with Jill and her reply to his attempted seduction being: “Jack! Off!”
Unfortunately the Jill mentioned here, too, was never found. In the first part of the script, which speaks of Jack and Jill’s youth, it says: “Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. Jack fell down and broke his crown, and Jill came tumbling after. Then up Jack got and home he did trot as fast as he could caper. They put him to bed and plastered his head, with vinegar and water.” Some stories say that Jack patched himself up, resulting in parts of the country knowing him as Jack-of-all-traits, especially considering he is speculated to be the creator of Flap Jacks, and Cracker Jacks. However, people in the southern part of Jackpot say that cooking was merely his hobby, and if he were to be called something it would be Black Jack, for the way he played cards and constantly seemed to win on the Jack of clubs. Whether he cheated or not, though is questionable.
Jack-of-all-traits and Black Jack, are only some of the names that have been mentioned over time. In certain texts he was noted to have names such as Jack Frost, and Jack Robinson. However, the latter was a little bit of a mouthful for the youngsters and therefore the expression: “faster than you can say Jack Robinson,” became a hype between the Jackpotters’ youth.
Later on in life he apparently began taking pleasure in the creating of wooden objects. According to the chronicles of Jack, Jack could be seen at many different locations cutting down trees. This caused the term wodcutter to become obsolete as it was then replaced by Lumberjack in honor of the magnificent way in which he was able to cut down trees efficiently and with a tramendous amount of force.
Jack's influence in language and culture has been extraordinary. Never before had we heard anything so prodigious as the Jack and we probably never will.
Thank you.
Monday, December 13, 2004
Christmas Dinner 2004
With the soup and starter over we turned to the main course- salad, beans, potatos, and duck. Peter went first saying: "This time I'm not going last! God, they'll think I'm a pig for running for it."
I laughed and shrugged. "Nah, I'll go with you."
We scooped up our food and waited for the others to d the same, quietl chatting about the food and how everyone had been nice enough to bring something. "Why didn't you tell me to bring something too? Were you scared I couldn't cook? I'm actually pretty good!"
"It wasn't that. It was more along the lines of that you'd have to come by train from Leiden, and you'd have to bring it with you. The train would smell and people would be looking, I couldn't do that to you. Hey, I know! I did it this morning when I came from Jelena's with the salad her mother had made. God, people were looking and asking me about it all over!" He laughed, nodding in understanding.
Everyone had returned from the table and we had all begun eating, when Sarina, across from me began complaining about money! "God, this chicken was fucking expemsive!"
"Chicken, Sar? It's duck!"
"No, it's chicken!"
I looked down at my plate checking to make sure, but sure enough, staring right back at me was a duck leg.
"No babe, it's duck."
"It's chicken. We asked for chicken and the lady said, "Will je een kippe bout zien?" Right Ife?"
Ife nodded with a smile. "Yeah, she did."
"See?" Sarina defended herself.
"Said it or not, this is duck, not chicken."
"It's chicken!"
"Duck!"
"Chicken!"
"Just say it's chicken." Jelena said. "Let her be happy."
"Ja," agreed Kris, "Misschien stopped ze wel."
"It is duck though," Fransy added for good measure, not knowing herself, but wanting to put in her two words too. This then started up some sort of hype, because before you knew it, everyone began agreeing that it was duck.
"It's duck," Paul finally said humorfully, "but for Sarina it's chicken."
Everyone laughed.
"Thanks Paul," Sarina said. "Thanks."
End
I laughed and shrugged. "Nah, I'll go with you."
We scooped up our food and waited for the others to d the same, quietl chatting about the food and how everyone had been nice enough to bring something. "Why didn't you tell me to bring something too? Were you scared I couldn't cook? I'm actually pretty good!"
"It wasn't that. It was more along the lines of that you'd have to come by train from Leiden, and you'd have to bring it with you. The train would smell and people would be looking, I couldn't do that to you. Hey, I know! I did it this morning when I came from Jelena's with the salad her mother had made. God, people were looking and asking me about it all over!" He laughed, nodding in understanding.
Everyone had returned from the table and we had all begun eating, when Sarina, across from me began complaining about money! "God, this chicken was fucking expemsive!"
"Chicken, Sar? It's duck!"
"No, it's chicken!"
I looked down at my plate checking to make sure, but sure enough, staring right back at me was a duck leg.
"No babe, it's duck."
"It's chicken. We asked for chicken and the lady said, "Will je een kippe bout zien?" Right Ife?"
Ife nodded with a smile. "Yeah, she did."
"See?" Sarina defended herself.
"Said it or not, this is duck, not chicken."
"It's chicken!"
"Duck!"
"Chicken!"
"Just say it's chicken." Jelena said. "Let her be happy."
"Ja," agreed Kris, "Misschien stopped ze wel."
"It is duck though," Fransy added for good measure, not knowing herself, but wanting to put in her two words too. This then started up some sort of hype, because before you knew it, everyone began agreeing that it was duck.
"It's duck," Paul finally said humorfully, "but for Sarina it's chicken."
Everyone laughed.
"Thanks Paul," Sarina said. "Thanks."
End
Mercedes Benz by* Janis Joplin
(from the album 'Pearl')
Oh Lord, wont you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?
My friends all drive Porsches,
I must make amends.
Worked hard all my lifetime,
no help from my friends,
So Lord, wont you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?
Oh Lord, wont you buy me a color TV ?
Dialing For Dollars
is trying to find me.
I wait for delivery each day until three,
So oh Lord, wont you buy me a color TV ?
Oh Lord, wont you buy me a night on the town ?
Im counting on you, Lord,
please dont let me down.
Prove that you love me
and buy the next round,
Oh Lord, wont you buy me a night on the town ?
Everybody!
Oh Lord, wont you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?
My friends all drive Porsches,
I must make amends,
Worked hard all my lifetime,
no help from my friends,
So oh Lord, wont you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?
Thats it!
*performed, and possibly written, (by)
And now our version:
Oh lord, wont you buy me a nice living space,
I live in a dump,
And I need a nice place,
Oh yeah,
Please help me save my face,
Oh lord, wont you buy me a nice living space.
Oh lord, wont you give me a big plate of food,
My money's run low
And I'm in one of those moods,
My friends seem to think
I am poor and a fool
Oh lord, wont you give me a big plate of food.
Oh lord, wont you send me a really nice boy
It's been way too long,
And he'll give me plenty of joy,
I've been dry way too long,
And I need a nice toy,
Oh lord, wont you send me a really nice boy
(from the album 'Pearl')
Oh Lord, wont you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?
My friends all drive Porsches,
I must make amends.
Worked hard all my lifetime,
no help from my friends,
So Lord, wont you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?
Oh Lord, wont you buy me a color TV ?
Dialing For Dollars
is trying to find me.
I wait for delivery each day until three,
So oh Lord, wont you buy me a color TV ?
Oh Lord, wont you buy me a night on the town ?
Im counting on you, Lord,
please dont let me down.
Prove that you love me
and buy the next round,
Oh Lord, wont you buy me a night on the town ?
Everybody!
Oh Lord, wont you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?
My friends all drive Porsches,
I must make amends,
Worked hard all my lifetime,
no help from my friends,
So oh Lord, wont you buy me a Mercedes Benz ?
Thats it!
*performed, and possibly written, (by)
And now our version:
Oh lord, wont you buy me a nice living space,
I live in a dump,
And I need a nice place,
Oh yeah,
Please help me save my face,
Oh lord, wont you buy me a nice living space.
Oh lord, wont you give me a big plate of food,
My money's run low
And I'm in one of those moods,
My friends seem to think
I am poor and a fool
Oh lord, wont you give me a big plate of food.
Oh lord, wont you send me a really nice boy
It's been way too long,
And he'll give me plenty of joy,
I've been dry way too long,
And I need a nice toy,
Oh lord, wont you send me a really nice boy
Monday, December 06, 2004
The Wedding
Part one of four
Samantha
The music in the adjacent hall was soft and beautiful: two violins, a cello, and a viola were playing one of the more romantic pieces from Tchikovsky's Romeo and Juliet. Alecia was fussing with the bottom of my dress, as Ingrid made sure the veil wasn't going to fall off mid procession. I looked back into the mirror at the beautiful white dress that I wore. The soft material danced around. For once in my life I looked beautiful and I actually believed it.
"Hold still, Sam!" Alecia warned. "The tail's gonna wrinkle otherwise."
"Sorry." I said, trying not to move, but I was so nervous. In a couple minutes the music would start and the doors would open. Then I began to panic. My mind was racing: 'am I doing the right thing? Do I really look okay? What if he's not there?! Oh God!'
Ingrid, who was still playing with the bloody veil, caught my look. "Sam, what's wrong?"
I took a deep breath. "Nothing. Just silly thoughts."
Then the door opened and Margriet walked in. "You ready Sam? We're ready to start. Your mom's helping your dad get his bow on straight, and then he'll be here to walk you down. Towel looks like he's about to pee in his pants."
"Mag… It's Brandon. Not Towel." I corrected her.
"He'll always be Towel to me." Her smile lighted the mood. "He said that he can't wait to see you."
"I bet he just can't wait till tonight." Ingrid laughed.
"Ingrid!" I shook my head. This was life. Friends making sexual leers, a man to love, and warm weather. Everything was perfect: until Dad walked in.
"Ready Mister Knerbein?" Margriet asked.
"Yup. You get the ball rolling." His deep voice reminded me of the many times he'd read to Charlie and Miranda.
"Here goes Sam. Good luck." Margriet leaned over and kissed my cheek and then exited the room.
"You look beautiful, Pumpkin. I'm so proud of you."
A tear threatened to fall down my cheek. "Daddy, don't make me cry. I'll ruin all this expensive make up."
He chuckled at the thought and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. He delicately raised my hand and stuck in my sleeve. "For when you do cry." He smiled and gave me a kiss.
That's when the music started. "Oh God." I whispered.
"No worries, Sam." Alecia said. "Everything's going to be good. Just you wait and see. Now, lets get you married." She and Ingrid stood in front of me in their lilac dresses. It had taken us days to find the right ones. Some were too dark. Others were too light. When we finally had decided on the right ones we were mostly glad we had waited so long. When the doors opened they walked down the isle.
I looked up at my dad before I moved. "I love you Dad."
"I love you too." Then taking his arm I moved towards my new family and future.
End
Samantha
The music in the adjacent hall was soft and beautiful: two violins, a cello, and a viola were playing one of the more romantic pieces from Tchikovsky's Romeo and Juliet. Alecia was fussing with the bottom of my dress, as Ingrid made sure the veil wasn't going to fall off mid procession. I looked back into the mirror at the beautiful white dress that I wore. The soft material danced around. For once in my life I looked beautiful and I actually believed it.
"Hold still, Sam!" Alecia warned. "The tail's gonna wrinkle otherwise."
"Sorry." I said, trying not to move, but I was so nervous. In a couple minutes the music would start and the doors would open. Then I began to panic. My mind was racing: 'am I doing the right thing? Do I really look okay? What if he's not there?! Oh God!'
Ingrid, who was still playing with the bloody veil, caught my look. "Sam, what's wrong?"
I took a deep breath. "Nothing. Just silly thoughts."
Then the door opened and Margriet walked in. "You ready Sam? We're ready to start. Your mom's helping your dad get his bow on straight, and then he'll be here to walk you down. Towel looks like he's about to pee in his pants."
"Mag… It's Brandon. Not Towel." I corrected her.
"He'll always be Towel to me." Her smile lighted the mood. "He said that he can't wait to see you."
"I bet he just can't wait till tonight." Ingrid laughed.
"Ingrid!" I shook my head. This was life. Friends making sexual leers, a man to love, and warm weather. Everything was perfect: until Dad walked in.
"Ready Mister Knerbein?" Margriet asked.
"Yup. You get the ball rolling." His deep voice reminded me of the many times he'd read to Charlie and Miranda.
"Here goes Sam. Good luck." Margriet leaned over and kissed my cheek and then exited the room.
"You look beautiful, Pumpkin. I'm so proud of you."
A tear threatened to fall down my cheek. "Daddy, don't make me cry. I'll ruin all this expensive make up."
He chuckled at the thought and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. He delicately raised my hand and stuck in my sleeve. "For when you do cry." He smiled and gave me a kiss.
That's when the music started. "Oh God." I whispered.
"No worries, Sam." Alecia said. "Everything's going to be good. Just you wait and see. Now, lets get you married." She and Ingrid stood in front of me in their lilac dresses. It had taken us days to find the right ones. Some were too dark. Others were too light. When we finally had decided on the right ones we were mostly glad we had waited so long. When the doors opened they walked down the isle.
I looked up at my dad before I moved. "I love you Dad."
"I love you too." Then taking his arm I moved towards my new family and future.
End
Saturday, December 04, 2004
Thursday, December 02, 2004
Playing with your food
Xavier walked the streets of London. The fog that plagued the city had set giving the atmosphere, which allowed him to walk during the daylight hours in peace. He wasn’t in the safest part of the world, but with another World War raging, which place was? Unlike most of his kind, which was heading towards the war, Xavier was trying to get as far away as possible. Well, not too far away. The Americas were too quiet for his liking. So, after traveling the world for over a century he had finally returned home. Bombed, dirty, and radiating the aroma of fear and death- London had become home or at least temporarily.
Not all that far in front of him he spotted his prey- a young woman in uniform on her way to work. He’d been watching her for a day or two, preparing to strike when the opportunity presented itself. Unlike some of his other dinners, Xavier had taken careful preparation when getting ready to confront her. Today he finally would, but for now he was keeping his distance, merely enjoying watching her walk quickly, her hips seductively swaying with each step.
Xavier began taking a closer look at her, hoping to learn more. As if in a restaurant studying the menu he’d look at every element that made this woman. As per usual he started at the top: Blond hair, his favorite, neatly in a bun. This told him she was dedicated at work, wanting to make an impression and go far. She wore a military issued coat, which looked clean for this time of year suggesting she liked cleanliness. She was a true military woman, not one that had joined up just because of the war, but rather, one who wanted to be something outside of the kitchen. A black handbag hung from her shoulder, her hand rested on the bag, as if she were scared that someone would take it from her. She wore stockings to keep out the cold, and lastly high-heeled shoes. Unlike most women who joined the service, the woman ahead of him had declined to use the flat black lace-ups that the majority of the women wore. He decided she was therefore most likely trying to impress someone at work with her long legs.
Xavier was definitely impressed with her.
He put his hand in his pocket to retrieve the necklace that one of his minions had picked from her and speeding up he came to walk next to her.
“Excuse me, Madam, but I believe you dropped this.” He held it so the charm, a Saint Christopher’s medallion, dangled from his nimble fingers.
She looked at it and then, in shock and confusion replied. “Oh sir, thank you. I’ve been looking all over for it. It’s a family heirloom, you see.”
Xavier smiled, keeping the charm just out of her reach. “Allow me,” he said, with his enhanced speed coming to stand behind her. He lifted the necklace, over her head in order to fasten it behind her neck.
He smelled fear, and heard the sound of the glorious pounding of her heart, her blood flowing through her veins. He could feel the heat she radiated, warming his cold body. The blond beauty shivered as he clasped the piece of jewelry around her neck. Xavier smiled enjoying the reaction.
Toying with his food as his father used to call it. “Don’t toy with your food, Xavier! These are times of hardship, therefore, either eat what’s on your plate or I will!” In the end Xavier had been the one to drain him: His first meal as a newly created creature of the night.
The returning to the task at hand he said: “No more playing.” Pushing her head violently to the side he took a moment while his demon came forth to enjoy the many scents his victim was giving off and then he sunk his teeth into her smooth warm neck.
An explosion of taste took over, as her blood came streaming into his mouth. If wine was the beverage of choice for the Gods, surely the devil’s was blood. In it he could taste fear, pain, strength, hormones and so much more, and as the warmth overtook him due to his feeding, Xavier began feeling stronger. His hunger was dissipating with every drop.
His victim struggled but was now stilling. He almost felt sorry for the fact that soon her heart would stop and he would be robbed of tasting her fine robust blood again. Taking his last few gulps, he pulled her into a nearby alley. Taking her necklace as a trophy, he propped her up against a pile of rubbish and turned to leave.
His features had changed back into their original form, except for the red smears of blood round his mouth, which he wiped away with the clean handkerchief he’d brought with him.
Coming out of the alley he saw two men look at him curiously. He smiled, looked up at the cloudy sky and walked back into the fog.
END
Not all that far in front of him he spotted his prey- a young woman in uniform on her way to work. He’d been watching her for a day or two, preparing to strike when the opportunity presented itself. Unlike some of his other dinners, Xavier had taken careful preparation when getting ready to confront her. Today he finally would, but for now he was keeping his distance, merely enjoying watching her walk quickly, her hips seductively swaying with each step.
Xavier began taking a closer look at her, hoping to learn more. As if in a restaurant studying the menu he’d look at every element that made this woman. As per usual he started at the top: Blond hair, his favorite, neatly in a bun. This told him she was dedicated at work, wanting to make an impression and go far. She wore a military issued coat, which looked clean for this time of year suggesting she liked cleanliness. She was a true military woman, not one that had joined up just because of the war, but rather, one who wanted to be something outside of the kitchen. A black handbag hung from her shoulder, her hand rested on the bag, as if she were scared that someone would take it from her. She wore stockings to keep out the cold, and lastly high-heeled shoes. Unlike most women who joined the service, the woman ahead of him had declined to use the flat black lace-ups that the majority of the women wore. He decided she was therefore most likely trying to impress someone at work with her long legs.
Xavier was definitely impressed with her.
He put his hand in his pocket to retrieve the necklace that one of his minions had picked from her and speeding up he came to walk next to her.
“Excuse me, Madam, but I believe you dropped this.” He held it so the charm, a Saint Christopher’s medallion, dangled from his nimble fingers.
She looked at it and then, in shock and confusion replied. “Oh sir, thank you. I’ve been looking all over for it. It’s a family heirloom, you see.”
Xavier smiled, keeping the charm just out of her reach. “Allow me,” he said, with his enhanced speed coming to stand behind her. He lifted the necklace, over her head in order to fasten it behind her neck.
He smelled fear, and heard the sound of the glorious pounding of her heart, her blood flowing through her veins. He could feel the heat she radiated, warming his cold body. The blond beauty shivered as he clasped the piece of jewelry around her neck. Xavier smiled enjoying the reaction.
Toying with his food as his father used to call it. “Don’t toy with your food, Xavier! These are times of hardship, therefore, either eat what’s on your plate or I will!” In the end Xavier had been the one to drain him: His first meal as a newly created creature of the night.
The returning to the task at hand he said: “No more playing.” Pushing her head violently to the side he took a moment while his demon came forth to enjoy the many scents his victim was giving off and then he sunk his teeth into her smooth warm neck.
An explosion of taste took over, as her blood came streaming into his mouth. If wine was the beverage of choice for the Gods, surely the devil’s was blood. In it he could taste fear, pain, strength, hormones and so much more, and as the warmth overtook him due to his feeding, Xavier began feeling stronger. His hunger was dissipating with every drop.
His victim struggled but was now stilling. He almost felt sorry for the fact that soon her heart would stop and he would be robbed of tasting her fine robust blood again. Taking his last few gulps, he pulled her into a nearby alley. Taking her necklace as a trophy, he propped her up against a pile of rubbish and turned to leave.
His features had changed back into their original form, except for the red smears of blood round his mouth, which he wiped away with the clean handkerchief he’d brought with him.
Coming out of the alley he saw two men look at him curiously. He smiled, looked up at the cloudy sky and walked back into the fog.
END
Faces Incarnated
It rained.
Days like these had been our favourite. I moved towards a chair and sat down looking out. The noise of the water hitting the window soothed me. It reminded me of the many nights when Alexei and I would just sit together and listen to nature’s symphony.
Closing my eyes I imagine a time when we would cuddle on the couch, Alexei’s arms around me, listening to the soft taps on the windowpane. Just letting the sound and our body heat consume us.
It rained for days.
Perhaps the weather was just reflecting my own emotions: sadness and loneliness. Just like a drop of rain I am alone, yet with others of my own kind simultaneously.
A hand reached for my shoulder and I turn to see my son looking at me. He looked so much like his father when I met him. His strict upbringing and my husband’s love of water had sent our son into the Navy and though he was trying to put on his officer’s façade I could see his pain. The worry lines on his forehead distorted his handsome face. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m going to take care of you.”
I smiled at his gesture, but we both knew that I would never accept. My years of freedom, both in and out of marriage had moulded me into the person I am, and binding myself to my son’s family permanently scared me: the thought that I might shrivel up within structure and conformity of family life. My own family, as a child, had been claustrophobic with my father’s iron fist and my mother’s submissiveness towards him was what caused me to leave in the first place.
I turned back to the rain and looked out.
45 years before, Gorky Park, Moscow
“Katherine, it’s raining.” My mother called me.
“Well, then we’ll get wet. It isn’t all that far to the metro.” I told her. I peered outside and saw that it really was raining hard.
“I’m not going to get my hair wet!” My mother informed me.
“Mum, I don’t have time for this; I need to go back to work. As it is I’m already late because Marie insisted on going on another ride.”
“So take a cab and go!” Mother’s patience for me had always been so short. Being the older of the two girls I had always gotten the bad end. The bad end of the belt, the argument, the choice in college. All in all I was just loved less. So it always surprised me when my parents came to visit, because it always seemed like they came because they felt like they needed to ruin my life, and though I was glad to see Marie, my parents could just as well have stayed at home.
“I can’t leave you here, how will you get home?” I countered.
“We’ll grab a cab.”
I gave up. “Fine. I’ll see you later. Bye Marie.”
“Bye Kat.” My little sister said before I ran out into the rain.
I was so relaxed by the cold wet water that hit me. By the time I had reached the min road I was soaked to the bone. I held my hand out to flag down a car, and in no time someone stopped. I got in. “Zdras vooyte,” I greeted him. “Slavianskaya, pazhalsta.” I gave him my destination and sat back.
“You speak Russian very well.” He said slowly in English. The amount of years I had studied Russian had given me the ability to speak like a native. It constantly surprised me when people picked up on my native language of English.
“Thank you.” I answered back. “Your English is very good too. Where did you learn?”
“I go to Los Angeles two year ago.”
I nodded and looked out the window.
My interest in Russia was founded in high school, with my first boyfriend’s family. They had moved from Russia to Boston the year before we met, and the time I spent with them had hooked me to the language and culture. It had all engulfed me and then to my parents’ disappointment I decided on journalism and Russian instead of Medicine or Law for college.
Perhaps I was just being rebellious subconsciously but it was more than that. So much more.
“What you do?” He asked.
“I’m a journalist. I write for the Moscow Times.”
“Ahh,” said in understanding.
I smiled. Then opening my bag looked for some money. I soon discovered I only had 150 roubles. “Sto pedisyiat, garashau?” <150,> I asked him.
He thought for a moment. “Da.”He answered. The ride would have at least cost me 200 roubles, and I secretly thanked God for having such a fortunate driver. We swerved through small streets heading for our destination until we hit the wrong corner. Roadblock.
The blocks were Putin’s latest attempts at catching skinheads, but contrary to what he said, they were ways of trapping foreigners and getting them to pay.
The two officers went to either side of the car. “Ostanivites!” the driver ordered me to stay and got out leaving the door open. “Ya magu vam pomoch?”His Russian was accented from the southern part of Russia, and it’s hypnotic tone made me listen carefully.
“Vi kovo vezjote?” One officer asked.
“Moju Schenu,”he lied.
“Pachemu ona sidit zadi?”
I listened carefully to both of them. Why would he help me so much? I wondered.
“Ona beremena”
Upon hearing that my eyes went wide open. I took my bag and shoved it under my shirt and sat back. I placed my hand on top to hide the wrinkles of the bag and watched as the other officer came to the back window and looked in.
I feared he might see through the story. What would they do to us? The police officers were known for being unsaintly. I knew my face was covered in fear, but he must have taken it for pain and looked up. “Ona roscheat?”He asked. His voice was much higher than his partners. Almost like a child’s.
“Da. Ja tolschen je-jo devesti do balmitsi.”
At that moment I started to scream.
“Oi, oi, oi!” The taxi driver said and opening the side door came to sit next to me. “It’s okay.” His words both for the benefit of the police and me.
I smiled and softly added in English. “Keep it up, you’re doing great. I’m Katherine.”
“Alexei.” He said with a smile and then got back out. “Mne nuschno idti.” he pleaded with them in his mother tong.
“Idti, idti!” The officer said and stepped back. Alexei got into the cab and sped off. When we’d cleared the blockage by a street we both broke down laughing.
“Spaseba!” I thanked him.
“Nichevo.” He answered gesturing that it was nothing. “You actress, Katja.” He smiled into the rear-view mirror.
“I had good help.” I said and waited for him to stop in front of the hotel in which the offices of the Moscow Times were situated. Then taking the money I handed it to him.
“Ni-et.” He said pushing it back. “You keep.”
“Oh, Alexei, I can’t do that.”
He smiled but kept his decision.
I smiled and looked at the money in my hand. Then on a moment’s impulse I reached for a pen from my bag and on the 100 roubles note wrote my name and phone number.
When he realised what I was doing he smiled, but took the money. For him I guess it was a win-win situation, or so he told me years later. Then grabbing my bag I said: “Call me.” And stepped out of the cab.
Present time, Los Angeles
“Babushka?” I turned from the window to look at my granddaughter.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Are you thinking about grandpa?”
“Yes I am.” I smiled and let her sit on my lap.
“What are you thinking about?”
“I’m remembering some of the fun we had.” I smiled at the child that looked so much like my younger sister when she was her age.
“Tell me one, please?” I looked into her pleading eyes: so much like Marie. “Well, I remember when Grandpa and I moved back to the States. Your dad was about two years old and he was running around causing havoc all over the place.” The child laughed at the thought of her father being naughty and looked up at me.
“Grandpa was sitting at the table and talking to Mr. McCutchin…”
38 Years Before, Los Angeles
“Jack, what kind of work is there out there for me? I was a sjegoolie driver for ten years.” I watched Alexei say to the elder man in front of him.
“Alex. You went to university, you’re a chemist and we’re in need of them right now. Let me talk to some people and see what’s coming up. I’ll be back in a couple of days.”
“Thank you,” Alexei said.
Jack smiled and looked at me. “It was really good to see you again Katherine. Thank you for the piece of cake. It was a great.”
“Goodbye, Jack. I hope we’ll see you soon.” I let him out and then turned to Alexei. “You’ll have a job soon.” I told him, Russian rolling off my tong.
Just then there was a crash. We both ran into the bathroom to see that my son had been trying to reach for something in the medicine cabinet and had brought everything down with him. He lay on the floor crying, after having hit his head.
“Oi, Nikolai,” my husband said and picking up his son. I began cleaning the mess that had been left behind.
Present day, Los Angeles
“What was he trying to reach, Babushka?” She asked looking at me.
“A toy frog,” I said.
The little girl burst out laughing. “A frog?”
“Yeah. Grandpa had brought him a plastic frog home for him, but he’d been bad and I’d put it up there.”
“What’s so funny?” Nikolai asked.
“Grandma was telling me about your toy frog, Daddy.” The child told her father.
Nikolai laughed. “I miss that frog.” He said mocking the toy briefly. “Best friend I ever had.”
Alexei would have said the exact same thing given the context, I thought. Being with my son was as if my Alexei hadn’t died a week ago. Perhaps I would go live with him. Being with Nikolai was like having my husband around. A younger more serious version than the carefree Russian I had loved for so many years, but none the less the resemblance was there. Plus, I would get to be with my granddaughter Marie, who mirrored the sister I had lost a few years ago.
Looking up at Nikolai I said, “Okay.”
He didn’t ask what I was talking about; he just nodded, leaned down and kissed my cheek.
Just like his father would have.
END
Days like these had been our favourite. I moved towards a chair and sat down looking out. The noise of the water hitting the window soothed me. It reminded me of the many nights when Alexei and I would just sit together and listen to nature’s symphony.
Closing my eyes I imagine a time when we would cuddle on the couch, Alexei’s arms around me, listening to the soft taps on the windowpane. Just letting the sound and our body heat consume us.
It rained for days.
Perhaps the weather was just reflecting my own emotions: sadness and loneliness. Just like a drop of rain I am alone, yet with others of my own kind simultaneously.
A hand reached for my shoulder and I turn to see my son looking at me. He looked so much like his father when I met him. His strict upbringing and my husband’s love of water had sent our son into the Navy and though he was trying to put on his officer’s façade I could see his pain. The worry lines on his forehead distorted his handsome face. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m going to take care of you.”
I smiled at his gesture, but we both knew that I would never accept. My years of freedom, both in and out of marriage had moulded me into the person I am, and binding myself to my son’s family permanently scared me: the thought that I might shrivel up within structure and conformity of family life. My own family, as a child, had been claustrophobic with my father’s iron fist and my mother’s submissiveness towards him was what caused me to leave in the first place.
I turned back to the rain and looked out.
45 years before, Gorky Park, Moscow
“Katherine, it’s raining.” My mother called me.
“Well, then we’ll get wet. It isn’t all that far to the metro.” I told her. I peered outside and saw that it really was raining hard.
“I’m not going to get my hair wet!” My mother informed me.
“Mum, I don’t have time for this; I need to go back to work. As it is I’m already late because Marie insisted on going on another ride.”
“So take a cab and go!” Mother’s patience for me had always been so short. Being the older of the two girls I had always gotten the bad end. The bad end of the belt, the argument, the choice in college. All in all I was just loved less. So it always surprised me when my parents came to visit, because it always seemed like they came because they felt like they needed to ruin my life, and though I was glad to see Marie, my parents could just as well have stayed at home.
“I can’t leave you here, how will you get home?” I countered.
“We’ll grab a cab.”
I gave up. “Fine. I’ll see you later. Bye Marie.”
“Bye Kat.” My little sister said before I ran out into the rain.
I was so relaxed by the cold wet water that hit me. By the time I had reached the min road I was soaked to the bone. I held my hand out to flag down a car, and in no time someone stopped. I got in. “Zdras vooyte,”
“You speak Russian very well.” He said slowly in English. The amount of years I had studied Russian had given me the ability to speak like a native. It constantly surprised me when people picked up on my native language of English.
“Thank you.” I answered back. “Your English is very good too. Where did you learn?”
“I go to Los Angeles two year ago.”
I nodded and looked out the window.
My interest in Russia was founded in high school, with my first boyfriend’s family. They had moved from Russia to Boston the year before we met, and the time I spent with them had hooked me to the language and culture. It had all engulfed me and then to my parents’ disappointment I decided on journalism and Russian instead of Medicine or Law for college.
Perhaps I was just being rebellious subconsciously but it was more than that. So much more.
“What you do?” He asked.
“I’m a journalist. I write for the Moscow Times.”
“Ahh,” said in understanding.
I smiled. Then opening my bag looked for some money. I soon discovered I only had 150 roubles. “Sto pedisyiat, garashau?” <150,> I asked him.
He thought for a moment. “Da.”
The blocks were Putin’s latest attempts at catching skinheads, but contrary to what he said, they were ways of trapping foreigners and getting them to pay.
The two officers went to either side of the car. “Ostanivites!” the driver ordered me to stay and got out leaving the door open. “Ya magu vam pomoch?”
“Vi kovo vezjote?”
“Moju Schenu,”
“Pachemu ona sidit zadi?”
I listened carefully to both of them. Why would he help me so much? I wondered.
“Ona beremena”
Upon hearing that my eyes went wide open. I took my bag and shoved it under my shirt and sat back. I placed my hand on top to hide the wrinkles of the bag and watched as the other officer came to the back window and looked in.
I feared he might see through the story. What would they do to us? The police officers were known for being unsaintly. I knew my face was covered in fear, but he must have taken it for pain and looked up. “Ona roscheat?”
“Da. Ja tolschen je-jo devesti do balmitsi.”
At that moment I started to scream.
“Oi, oi, oi!” The taxi driver said and opening the side door came to sit next to me. “It’s okay.” His words both for the benefit of the police and me.
I smiled and softly added in English. “Keep it up, you’re doing great. I’m Katherine.”
“Alexei.” He said with a smile and then got back out. “Mne nuschno idti.” he pleaded with them in his mother tong.
“Idti, idti!” The officer said and stepped back. Alexei got into the cab and sped off. When we’d cleared the blockage by a street we both broke down laughing.
“Spaseba!” I thanked him.
“Nichevo.” He answered gesturing that it was nothing. “You actress, Katja.” He smiled into the rear-view mirror.
“I had good help.” I said and waited for him to stop in front of the hotel in which the offices of the Moscow Times were situated. Then taking the money I handed it to him.
“Ni-et.” He said pushing it back. “You keep.”
“Oh, Alexei, I can’t do that.”
He smiled but kept his decision.
I smiled and looked at the money in my hand. Then on a moment’s impulse I reached for a pen from my bag and on the 100 roubles note wrote my name and phone number.
When he realised what I was doing he smiled, but took the money. For him I guess it was a win-win situation, or so he told me years later. Then grabbing my bag I said: “Call me.” And stepped out of the cab.
Present time, Los Angeles
“Babushka?” I turned from the window to look at my granddaughter.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Are you thinking about grandpa?”
“Yes I am.” I smiled and let her sit on my lap.
“What are you thinking about?”
“I’m remembering some of the fun we had.” I smiled at the child that looked so much like my younger sister when she was her age.
“Tell me one, please?” I looked into her pleading eyes: so much like Marie. “Well, I remember when Grandpa and I moved back to the States. Your dad was about two years old and he was running around causing havoc all over the place.” The child laughed at the thought of her father being naughty and looked up at me.
“Grandpa was sitting at the table and talking to Mr. McCutchin…”
38 Years Before, Los Angeles
“Jack, what kind of work is there out there for me? I was a sjegoolie driver for ten years.” I watched Alexei say to the elder man in front of him.
“Alex. You went to university, you’re a chemist and we’re in need of them right now. Let me talk to some people and see what’s coming up. I’ll be back in a couple of days.”
“Thank you,” Alexei said.
Jack smiled and looked at me. “It was really good to see you again Katherine. Thank you for the piece of cake. It was a great.”
“Goodbye, Jack. I hope we’ll see you soon.” I let him out and then turned to Alexei. “You’ll have a job soon.” I told him, Russian rolling off my tong.
Just then there was a crash. We both ran into the bathroom to see that my son had been trying to reach for something in the medicine cabinet and had brought everything down with him. He lay on the floor crying, after having hit his head.
“Oi, Nikolai,” my husband said and picking up his son. I began cleaning the mess that had been left behind.
Present day, Los Angeles
“What was he trying to reach, Babushka?” She asked looking at me.
“A toy frog,” I said.
The little girl burst out laughing. “A frog?”
“Yeah. Grandpa had brought him a plastic frog home for him, but he’d been bad and I’d put it up there.”
“What’s so funny?” Nikolai asked.
“Grandma was telling me about your toy frog, Daddy.” The child told her father.
Nikolai laughed. “I miss that frog.” He said mocking the toy briefly. “Best friend I ever had.”
Alexei would have said the exact same thing given the context, I thought. Being with my son was as if my Alexei hadn’t died a week ago. Perhaps I would go live with him. Being with Nikolai was like having my husband around. A younger more serious version than the carefree Russian I had loved for so many years, but none the less the resemblance was there. Plus, I would get to be with my granddaughter Marie, who mirrored the sister I had lost a few years ago.
Looking up at Nikolai I said, “Okay.”
He didn’t ask what I was talking about; he just nodded, leaned down and kissed my cheek.
Just like his father would have.
END
Jane
Jane
My close friend
Annoying me
Hurting me
Hugging me
My dearest confidant
Listening
Understanding
Helping
I'm angry
But I'm not
I'm Jealous
But not really
I want to hate her
But I cant
My friend
My close friend
Annoying me
Hurting me
Hugging me
My dearest confidant
Listening
Understanding
Helping
I'm angry
But I'm not
I'm Jealous
But not really
I want to hate her
But I cant
My friend
Hey
Hi Everyone... This is my new blog... For all those who don't know me, My name is Maggi and I'm 20 years old... may 29th for all those who like to send birthday messeges ;) . I live In The Netherlands and am studing English here at university. I love to club, read, write, and just chill with friends. I'm obsesed with Buffy, Angel, X-files, Stargate, Stargate Atlantis, and Lost. You'll probably see many a rambling about Spike and Willow... Or here and there a fanfiction. Also I write original fiction. Occasionally you'll come across some of those too.
Well... on to the blog... hope you enjoy my life as much as I am!
Well... on to the blog... hope you enjoy my life as much as I am!
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
long time gone
Gosh... It feels like forever, but at the same time it feels like yesterday. I hit my two year mark a couple weeks ago. I still remember the first night I was alone by myself in the house. My parents had just left returning to Toronto, and it was just me. I partied! It was the greatest thing! All alone in Amsterdam, no one to tell me what to do, where to go, say, dress... etc.
Now two years later, and I can't say that i'm not happy. I might even be happier than I ever have been. Jan's coming to live with me in January, that'll be a change, and unlike most people I love living with my brother. Well, I hope I will in any case.
God.. My life is so different, and I wouldn't change a thing. Well, I could do with a boyfriend, but other than that, it's all good. University is fun, my friends are great, I love my study- what more could I ask for.
The goddess has truly blessed me.
Now two years later, and I can't say that i'm not happy. I might even be happier than I ever have been. Jan's coming to live with me in January, that'll be a change, and unlike most people I love living with my brother. Well, I hope I will in any case.
God.. My life is so different, and I wouldn't change a thing. Well, I could do with a boyfriend, but other than that, it's all good. University is fun, my friends are great, I love my study- what more could I ask for.
The goddess has truly blessed me.
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