[003] considering life - and life-after
NARRATOR:
Lying in the dark, Chuck considered how she came to be lying in the dark.
She considered the life that was with Aunts Lily and Vivian.
Chuck's aunts, Lily and Vivian, were sitting still as statues as she approached the window, drawing the curtains back to let the bright sunshine in. Standing back, hands on her hips, she smiled as widely as she could, but neither aunt would have it. They seemed unaffected by the sun, as cheery and beautiful as it was.
NARRATOR:
Their personality disorders blossomed into incapacitating social phobias,
which made it difficult for them to leave the house. Which in turn made it difficult for
Chuck to leave them. She served her community by harvesting honey for the homeless.
She could remember wearing that beekeeper's suit, the one she'd bought on her way home from the grocery store one day. It had been a good idea, though she wished she could have gone a little farther than her front lawn as she set the stand up, fresh jars of honey lined up neatly in rows. A homeless man - one of the first visitors of her cause - sat by her. She assured him he didn't need to be there, but he refused to move anywhere else. She supposed it was the alluring smell of honey that drew him in. It certainly drew others.
NARRATOR:
She never strayed far from home. She read about people
she could never be, on adventures she would never have.
In the library, she remembered her first book, a story about a magical place called Narnia. She recognized the stories from her childhood, but rereading the series at an older age made her happy and partly nostalgic for the old days. Soon, novels from Shakespeare's plays to the classic Jane Austens began to fill her shelves. Aunts Lily and Vivian never seemed to mind it, but when she left a book lying around, they would question her as to where it came from and where it should go. After her hundredth book, Lily wasn't particularly pleased with her fanciful novels, recommending that she do something a little more useful with her time - though what that was, she would never say.
Chuck had a feeling she didn't even know. (And she would be right.)
She wanted so much more. She wanted to experience the sorts of adventures that the characters in her books did. They always did such wonderful, exciting things. Battling monsters, saving princesses, finding treasure, exploring new lands and falling in love - they were all things she fantasized doing herself.
NARRATOR:
Life was good enough - until one day, it wasn't: Chuck wanted more.
But at Boutique Travel Travel Boutique, she got more than she bargained for.
---
The scene is quiet. Chuck lies in the dark, waiting for her prince - for Ned. There are two workers, dirt and soil smeared across their jumpsuits, busily digging the grave where the white casket, ornamented in gold, would descend once they were finished.
The day is bright, the grass is green, the sky is blue (with very few clouds) - and the sun is shining. It is very lovely weather for a very strange funeral that isn't quite a funeral at all.
A voice from somewhere above - a voice she recognizes - begins to speak. "Hey, I think somebody's truck is on fire."
"What?"
"Huh - oh shi -"
There is a slight pat against the ground (like shovels being tossed) and the soft patter of footsteps before the cracking and creaking of her casket reveals light - and a face.
"Sorry I'm late."
She smiles.
(Only Sleeping Beauty could know how she felt at this moment.)
Lying in the dark, Chuck considered how she came to be lying in the dark.
She considered the life that was with Aunts Lily and Vivian.
Chuck's aunts, Lily and Vivian, were sitting still as statues as she approached the window, drawing the curtains back to let the bright sunshine in. Standing back, hands on her hips, she smiled as widely as she could, but neither aunt would have it. They seemed unaffected by the sun, as cheery and beautiful as it was.
NARRATOR:
Their personality disorders blossomed into incapacitating social phobias,
which made it difficult for them to leave the house. Which in turn made it difficult for
Chuck to leave them. She served her community by harvesting honey for the homeless.
She could remember wearing that beekeeper's suit, the one she'd bought on her way home from the grocery store one day. It had been a good idea, though she wished she could have gone a little farther than her front lawn as she set the stand up, fresh jars of honey lined up neatly in rows. A homeless man - one of the first visitors of her cause - sat by her. She assured him he didn't need to be there, but he refused to move anywhere else. She supposed it was the alluring smell of honey that drew him in. It certainly drew others.
NARRATOR:
She never strayed far from home. She read about people
she could never be, on adventures she would never have.
In the library, she remembered her first book, a story about a magical place called Narnia. She recognized the stories from her childhood, but rereading the series at an older age made her happy and partly nostalgic for the old days. Soon, novels from Shakespeare's plays to the classic Jane Austens began to fill her shelves. Aunts Lily and Vivian never seemed to mind it, but when she left a book lying around, they would question her as to where it came from and where it should go. After her hundredth book, Lily wasn't particularly pleased with her fanciful novels, recommending that she do something a little more useful with her time - though what that was, she would never say.
Chuck had a feeling she didn't even know. (And she would be right.)
She wanted so much more. She wanted to experience the sorts of adventures that the characters in her books did. They always did such wonderful, exciting things. Battling monsters, saving princesses, finding treasure, exploring new lands and falling in love - they were all things she fantasized doing herself.
NARRATOR:
Life was good enough - until one day, it wasn't: Chuck wanted more.
But at Boutique Travel Travel Boutique, she got more than she bargained for.
---
The scene is quiet. Chuck lies in the dark, waiting for her prince - for Ned. There are two workers, dirt and soil smeared across their jumpsuits, busily digging the grave where the white casket, ornamented in gold, would descend once they were finished.
The day is bright, the grass is green, the sky is blue (with very few clouds) - and the sun is shining. It is very lovely weather for a very strange funeral that isn't quite a funeral at all.
A voice from somewhere above - a voice she recognizes - begins to speak. "Hey, I think somebody's truck is on fire."
"What?"
"Huh - oh shi -"
There is a slight pat against the ground (like shovels being tossed) and the soft patter of footsteps before the cracking and creaking of her casket reveals light - and a face.
"Sorry I'm late."
She smiles.
(Only Sleeping Beauty could know how she felt at this moment.)