Creative Writing
So the first two days of school are over! Finally! And I got the two classes I wanted most, which are AP Psychology and Creative Writing. AND, as a bonus, both of those teachers are freakin' amazing and I think slightly insane.
So, my first assignment was to write a flash fiction piece including a waitress who likes her menus to rhyme as one of the major characters. I don't know if I really like it, I'm terrible at rhyming, and that kind of got lost in the piece. And I'm not sure if I got the guys grumpiness across well enough, but oh well. Here it is!
Saturday was a gloomy day. For once in his life, Travis didn’t like the rain. In fact, today he loathed the rain to the point where he looked upwards at the darkened sky and cursed at whatever force of nature decided that it was supposed to rain on that exact day.
As he walked through the continuous downpour, his simple gray hoodie not enough to keep the rain from soaking him to the bone, he couldn’t help but wonder what God held against him and why he deserve this terrible day he was having. Normally, he would have loved the rain so much it was a possibility that people could wonder why a grown man was out in the streets dancing in it. But today, after being fired from his job and deliberately deciding that he wouldn’t bring an umbrella (after the weatherman stated it would not rain), he just wanted it to go away. So, naturally, it was no surprise when he found himself wandering into a brightly lit diner that smelled of coffee and french-fries.
“Oh.”
The single word was enough to make him shed his hood and look up to find a young waitress standing in front of him. She studied him with a look of disappointment and clicked her tongue in an annoying tsk-tsk manner.
“Hon, why don’t you go sit over there while I get you some coffee an’ a towel,” she suggested, her red lips turning up in a smile. Travis couldn’t help but watch as she walked into the back of the diner, leaving him to sit down and drip all over the faded blue booth she had directed him to. The seat was ripped in several places, the sharp edges digging into his back and catching on his sopping clothes. He leaned forward a bit, trying not to lean into the torn seat too much.
By time she came back he had already formed small puddles on the booth and ugly, spotted linoleum floor. She set the coffee in front of him and handed him the off-white towel while humming an annoyingly cheery tune. Travis was positive this was the towel that they used to dry their dishes.
“Can I get you anythin’?” She asked, smiling at him in an annoyingly cheery way, “Why don’t you try our french-fry eyes? Or maybe our wild-pitch sandwich?” She grinned down at him as if she’d made a clever joke, though all he could think was, how on Earth does that sound appealing? When she handed him a thin menu, he was even more appalled. Everything rhymed.
“Uh, no thanks,” he replied, staring up at her. She was fairly tall, and too thin for comfort. Her frizzy hair was pulled back in a sunflower hair-tie and her pink apron was pulled over a white, purple-polka-dotted T-shirt that was just a bit too tight. To accentuate it all she apparently decided to throw in an obnoxiously green skirt and pink ballet flats. She was the epitome of cheeriness and sunshine, and she was so dang irritating for it.
“Are you sure? Maybe you’d like one of our orange muffins?”
“You didn’t rhyme that one,” he pointed out, looking up at her. She laughed and nodded. “Of course I didn’t silly, nothing rhymes with orange. Well, if you want anythin’ just be sure to tell me m’kay?”
She walked off again, this time to chat with her more lively customers. No matter what was said, she seemed to be happy and cheery the entire time, as if she really enjoyed her job. Maybe she does, he thought to himself, taking a sip of his coffee and pulling his soaking wet hoodie off.
It was hard to keep his eyes off her. As annoyingly bright as she was, she still drew attention from everyone else. Her clothes just screamed, “Look at me!” and her loud chatter was enough for a deaf person to hear.
“You doin’ ok, Hon?” She asked, sliding over and taking his cup, “You want some more?”
“No, thank you. I’m just going to head home.” He gathered his hoodie, and paid her quietly, apologizing for the wet bills.
“Don’t you worry about that. Now, whatever’s botherin’ you, just remember that things’ll get better ok? You take care.” Travis was granted one last annoying smile before he left, those words ringing in his ears. Things’ll get better.
Continuing his walk home wasn’t so bad. The rain started to seem less and less like the clouds were crying and more and more like a comforting drizzle. He let it wash over him, his insecurities and anger washing away just like leaves in a gutter. Maybe she was right, maybe things would get better. Maybe life was just like a gutter, occasionally getting clogged up and filled with dirt, but the next rain would wash it away.
After fumbling with his slick keys and walking through his door, he was met with an excited shout as a small bundle of energy plowed into his legs, gripping them tightly. He couldn’t help but laugh as he hugged his daughter back, peering down at her with the first smile of his day.
“Daddy, how was your day?” She asked as he scooped her up and into his arms. He smiled slightly and shrugged, carrying her into the living room where his lovely wife waited. “Not so good baby-girl, daddy lost his job.”
“What?” Evelyn stood, a frown ruining her once pretty smile, “Why?”
“They just needed to let a bunch of people go honey. But don’t worry, things’ll get better.” He leaned over, kissing her on the cheek and setting his little girl down on the forest green couch, watching as she suddenly became focused on the TV.
That waitress was right. He didn’t get her name, but what she said made him realize that things already were better. He had a loving wife, an adorable daughter, and a home to go to.
It was then, when Travis plopped down on the couch and assured his wife, that he realized that sometimes the littlest things in life made things better.