Short Story

She trips over her own high heel as she runs from the taxi into the building, trying to avoid stepping in any puddles on the way.  She is late. She’s never been late for anything in her entire life, but today she is late.  As the door closes behind her, she stops for half a second to take a breath and try to restore her heart beat to a more regular rhythm.  Moving quickly again, she opens her purse and grabs her ticket from the first slot in her wallet.  The lady at the door gives her a look, staring at the wet spots on her blouse and sighs.  She can hear the first notes twinkling overhead through the speakers.  Impatiently, she starts swaying from one foot to the other.  Finally the woman scans the ticket and lets her walk through the double doors.

“Miss, your skirt is tucked up under your...well….” The ticket lady called back to her. Flustered, she runs a hand down her backside trying to straighten her folds.  Wandering down the dimly lit hall, she strains her eyes to see what number her seat is on the ticket.  The notes get faster and louder and her heart beats along with them.  She opens a door and sound comes pouring out like the Great Flood. She quickly sits down in the first seat she finds and stares.  The light shines down on the stage, reflecting off the chandeliers on its way.  She’s distracted for a moment by the sparkle, but her attention is returned to the symphony as the dynamics grow louder.  

When the concert ends, she stands up with every other person in the performance hall.  She makes her way down to the stage and tries to get the conductor to notice her.  He sees her and kneels down so he can talk to her.

"That was absolutely wonderful!" she says.
"Yes, it was, thank you." He stands up and turns around. 
"Wait!" she calls after him. He motions that he has to leave and walks offstage with the rest of the orchestra. Chewing her lip, she looks around her; most of the audience is gone now. She makes her way back to the front foyer, waving at the ticket lady as she leaves.  Looking around for a taxi, she stands under the doorway trying to not get wet from the rain.  Finally, one pulls up and she gets in.

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Back at her apartment, she kicks off her heels at the door, ignoring the light switch.  Glancing over at the clock, she peels off her skirt and drops it by the couch.  Ten-thirty PM. Ten-thirty one. She unbuttons her blouse and walks down the hallway to the bathroom, letting it fall on the floor half way there.  She stops at the full length mirror, and looks at herself: wet, stringy dark hair, mascara and eye liner dripping down her high cheek bones as if she'd been crying. She feels like crying.  She runs her hand over her lips, wiping off her lipstick. Her eyes are drawn to her hips. She stares, silently criticizing the way her hip bones stick out further than her stomach. Shrugging her shoulders at her appearance, and chewing on her bottom lip, she starts a bath and walks back into the kitchen.  She opens the refrigerator door, pulls out a couple Tupperware containers, and looks through their contents.  Choosing cold rice, she finds a fork and pads back to the bathroom. She sets the rice on the side of the sink and finishes undressing. Picking up her dinner she slips into the water, wincing at the hot temperature, and closes her eyes.
She takes a couple bites of rice and puts her feet under the running water. When her toes are numb from the heat, she uses her right foot to turn off the water. Silence falls through out the bathroom. She stops eating and opens her eyes. Looking around, she experiences a temporary blindness as her eyes adjust to the dark. It's too quiet. Her mind is too quiet.  She sets her rice on the side of the tub and reaches over to turn on her shower radio.  After a moment, the quiet hum of string instruments begin to fill the bathroom, bouncing off the tile floors.  She closes her eyes the moment she recognizes the familiar march of Beethoven's fifth symphony, second movement.  Andante Con Moto. She lifts her hands, mimicking a conductor. The lower strings start their circular passage then hand it off to the upper strings. The winds come in with a pulsing beat, leading the phrase over the edge, dropping off into nothingness. She brings in the flute and the clarinet, letting them sing their duet. Three minutes of keeping her arms moving fluidly yet not naturally; the conducting of someone who's practiced for hours alone, with out a live orchestra, just herself and the radio.
She opens her eyes and is brought back into reality.  She's sitting in a tub of chilled bath water, in a bathroom where the only sound is coming from a commercial on the radio. She reaches over to turn the radio off, knocking her rice into the bathtub with her. Sighing, she stands up, grabs a towel and walks out of the bathroom.

Vacation-FLASH

She walks down the beach hand in hand with him.  The sun starts to go down, but she refuses to turn back and go to the hotel.  When he tries again to get them to leave, she sits in the sand and tells him fine, he can leave. He sits down behind her and wraps his arms around her shoulders, resting his head on top of hers.  Ok, he says. We can stay.

Moving In-- FLASH

She was unpacking one of the multitudes of her boxes she brought over from her last apartment.  He walked in with more boxes of stuff. Looking around he sees that she separated the boxes, his and hers, and put them on opposite sides of the room. He puts his box down and asked her what happened. She organized it. To him, it looked more like segregation but he kept his mouth shut.  Opening the newest box he brought in, he pulls out a photograph.  When he shows it to her she says it was from their vacation last spring break then she turns away.  He looks at it one more time, remembering how happy they were then puts the photo on the table in the center of the room and turns back to his side as well.


This is a flash from a play that I am writing. I had to turn it into more of a novel feel instead of the regular play format.

A Perfect World- FLASH

Sitting in class she checks her phone again.  Nothing. Just the time flashing, notifying her it's been almost three hours since she got out of bed, and it's two hours later in New Jersey.  She sighs, trying not to think too much, but that never works.
     The conversation runs back through her head, the one they should be having right now.  They should be talking and laughing, like nothing is going wrong. He should be telling her about his day, how he slept the night before, the classes he's taking, what time his plane leaves and what time it gets in.  She should be telling him about how she can't wait for him to come home, how she's so excited to see him tomorrow.  She should be telling him how she hasn't practiced since Saturday, but she doesn't feel worried. She'll save that for Tuesday when the performance comes up.
     She checks her phone again and sees that there's a message! From her mom. She puts the phone away and vows to stop checking until lunch, but that never works.

Death Through Rioting

My Newest Poem:                                       

Part of my life

 She knits every day for hours non stop.

The sweetest creature known to man kind.

For Valentines Day, my boyfriend gave me a rose plant.  Aren't the new leaves just so wonderful! I love it to pieces.

Where I work as an intern(: My life.

Creative Writing Assignment

 

-John Christopher Depp II-

FINAL

At this precise moment, I am eating this cinnamon roll and daydreaming about him; the way he looks, the sound of his voice….  I can feel his mind invading mine, and slowly, ever so slowly, we become dual persons in a single body.  He is showing me all he has been through in his life, a myriad of fictional characters.  Johnny Depp and his middle school educated mind that has been twisted and molded and formed into Cry Baby, into Edward, into Gilbert hey Gilbert are they coming? Are they coming Gilbert?  A man who has been carved into Jack Sparrow, CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow to you, the worst pirate you’ve ever heard of but you have heard of me.  He is the Hatter.  Have I gone mad? Well I am afraid so, but all the best people are.  Oh yes he is here, in my head; accompanying me, learning my thoughts as I learn his…. He moved to LA.  I dream of going there and here he is, calling on me to leave. Look where I’ve come from and look where I am now he whispers to me.  So many lives he has lived he is living he will live.  He takes them with him in his dreams.  

 

When he leaves this physical world someone will have to be him.  One person will have to be able to keep the secrets and stories about a life that only he knows.  He has come to me to confide these tales the way he was abusing himself in the beginning of the career he chose.  How he almost gave up until an angel saved him and he became the man with scissors for hands.  Who only wanted love and was casted out from society except from one family and the entire audience.  He was once Frank. A musician? Bar tender?  Math.  A math teacher.  Would you like to have dinner? Join me for dinner? I’m going to dinner, if you’d care to join me.  She smiles.  Everything is a collection of memories of scenes from different stories.  He leaves.

 My mind feels empty without his presence.

 

I head back to loneliness.

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-John Christopher Depp II-

THIRD REVISION

At this precise moment, I am eating this cinnamon roll and daydreaming about him; the way he looks, the sound of his voice….  I can feel his mind invading mine, and slowly, ever so slowly, we become dual persons in a single body.  He is showing me all he has been through in his life, a myriad of fictional characters.  Johnny Depp and his middle school educated mind that has been twisted and molded and formed into Cry Baby, into Edward, into Gilbert hey Gilbert are they coming? Are they coming Gilbert?  A man who has been carved into Jack Sparrow, CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow to you, the worst pirate you’ve ever heard of but you have heard of me.  Depp as the Hatter.  Have I gone mad? Well I am afraid so, but all the best people are.  Oh yes he is here, in my head; accompanying me, learning my thoughts as I learn his…. He moved to LA.  I dream of going there and here he is, calling on me to leave. Look where I’ve come from and look where I am now he whispers to me.  So many lives he has lived he is living he will live.  He takes them with him in his dreams.  

 

When he leaves this physical world someone will have to be him.  One person will have to be able to keep the secrets and stories about a life that only he knows.  He has come to me to confide these tales the way he was abusing himself in the beginning of the career he chose.  How he almost gave up until an angel saved him and he became the man with scissors for hands.  Who only wanted love and was casted out from society except from one family and the entire audience.  He was once Frank. A musician? Bar tender?  Math.  I’m a math teacher. I’m a math teacher.  You are a government spy and in about three chapters in you will have been shot at.  Is there a man? Yes. Would you like to have dinner? Join me for dinner? I’m going to dinner, if you’d care to join me.  She smiles.

 

Johnny has decided his business is needed elsewhere and he thanks you for your time. 

 

My mind feels empty without his presence.

 

I head back to loneliness.

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-John Christopher Depp II-

SECOND REVISION

At this precise moment, I am eating my cinnamon roll and daydreaming about him; the way he looks, the sound of his voice.  I can feel his mind invading mine, and slowly, ever so slowly, we become dual persons in a single body.  He is showing me all he has been through in his life, a myriad of fictional characters.  Johnny Depp and his middle school educated mind that has been twisted and molded and formed into Cry Baby, into Edward, into Gilbert Grape.  A man who has been carved into Jack Sparrow, CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow to you, the worst pirate you’ve ever heard of but you have heard of me.  Depp as the Hatter.  Have I gone mad? Well I am afraid so, but all the best people are.  Oh yes he is here, in my head; accompanying me, learning my thoughts as I learn his…. He moved to LA with his first wife. I dream of going there and here he is, calling on me to leave. Look where I’ve come from and look where I am now.  He hides from the cameras until it’s his turn. He has so many lives he has lived he is living he will live.  He takes them with him in his dreams.  

 

When he leaves this physical world someone will have to be him.  One person will have to be able to keep the secrets and stories about a life that only he knows.  He has come to me to confide these tales the way he was abusing himself in the beginning of the career he chose.  How he almost gave up until an angel saved him and he became the man with scissors for hands.  Who only wanted love and was casted out from society except from one family and the entire audience.  He was once Frank. A musician? Bar tender?  Math.  I’m a math teacher. I’m a math teacher.  You are a government spy and in about three chapters in you will have been shot at.  Is there a man? Yes. Would you like to have dinner? Join me for dinner? I’m going to dinner, if you’d care to join me.  She smiles.

 

Johnny has decided his business is needed elsewhere and he thanks you for your time. 

 

My mind feels empty without his presence.

 

Back to loneliness.

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-John Christopher Depp II-

FIRST REVISION

At this precise moment, I am eating my cinnamon roll and daydreaming about him; the way he looks, the sound of his voice.  I can feel his mind invading mine, and slowly, ever so slowly, we become dual persons in a single body.  He is showing me all he has been through in his life, a myriad of fictional characters.  Johnny Depp and his middle school educated mind that has been twisted and molded and formed into Cry Baby, into Edward, into Gilbert Grape.  A man who has been carved into Jack Sparrow, CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow to you, the worst pirate you’ve ever heard of but you have heard of me.  Depp as the Hatter.  Have I gone mad? Well I am afraid so, but all the best people are.  Oh yes he is here, in my head; accompanying me, learning my thoughts as I learn his…. He moved to LA with his first wife. I dream of going there and here he is, calling on me to leave. Look where I’ve come from and look where I am now.  He hides from the cameras until it’s his turn. He has so many lives he has lived he is living he will live.  He takes them with him in his dreams.  

 

When he leaves this physical world someone will have to be him.  Someone will have to be able to keep the secrets and stories about a life that only he knows.  He has come to me to confide these tales the way he was abusing himself in the beginning of the career he chose.  How he almost gave up until an angel saved him and he became the man with scissors for hands.  Who only wanted love and was casted out from society except from one family and the entire audience.  He was once Frank. A musician? No.  A math teacher. I’m a math teacher.  You are a government spy and in about three chapters in you will have been shot at.  Is there a man? Yes. Will you join me for dinner? Join me for dinner. I’m having dinner, will you join me? I’m going to dinner, I’d like for you to join me.  Then she says yes.

 

John Christopher Depp II has decided his business is needed elsewhere and he thanks you for your time.  My mind feels empty without his presence.

 

Back to loneliness.

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-John Christopher Depp II-

ROUGH DRAFT

Right now I am eating my cinnamon roll and thinking about him.  I can feel his mind infiltrating mine as we slowly become dual persons in a single body.  He is showing me all that he has been through in his life all of his multitudes of characters.  Johnny Depp and his middle school educated mind that has been twisted and molded and formed into cry baby, into Edward, into Gilbert Grape.  A man who has been carved into Jack Sparrow, CAPTAIN jack sparrow to you, the worst pirate you’ve ever heard of but you have heard of me.  Have I gone mad? Well I am afraid so, but all the best people are. Am I a best people? I certainly do hope so.  Oh yes he is here, in my mind accompanying me learning my thoughts as well as I learn his. His move to LA with his first wife to start a new life. My dreams of going there, he is calling me to leave look where I’ve come from and look where I am now.  He hides from the cameras until it’s his time. He has so many lives he has lived and he takes them with him in his dreams.   His best friend and HIS wife in his life all the time trading off being each other and one another and creating different worlds where each competes to be the best character.

 

When he leaves this physical world someone will have to be him.  Someone will have to be able to keep the secrets and stories about a life that only he knows.  He has come to me to confide these tales the way he was abusing himself in the beginning of the career he chose.  How he almost gave up until an angel saved him and he became the man with scissors for hands.  Who only wanted love and was casted out from society except from one family and the entire audience.  He was once Frank. A musician? No.  A math teacher. I’m a math teacher.  You are a government spy and in about three chapters in you will have been shot at.  Is there a man? Yes. Will you join me for dinner? Join me for dinner. I’m having dinner, will you join me? I’m going to dinner, I’d like for you to join me.  Then she says yes.

 

John Christopher Depp II has decided his business is needed elsewhere and he thanks you for your time.  My mind feels empty without his presence.

 Back to loneliness.

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