yea, its an attempt at writing (key word being ATTEMPT)
She walks slowly to the window and stares past the raindrops streaking down the dirty glass. Every thought racing through her head sends a painful sting across her skull and reminds her that this isnt over yet. The thunder rolls like an 18 wheeler on an old metal bridge and she counts the seconds until she sees the flash of lightening; 10 seconds, 10 miles away.
A shadowy figure sits cross-legged in the corner atop a pile of pillows and blankets, at first glance she is almost statuesque. Her arms rest beside her and she slouches over her makeshift bong in her lap. She takes a hit and holds it in a second, opens the corner of her mouth and watches the smoke dissipate into the air. Her hand rises to her mouth and the flicker of a lighter rises to meet another cigarette, probably her 10th that night.
The thunder rolls again and lightening strikes immediately afterwards, the time had come. The girl by the window begins to pace back and forth; 3 steps forward, turn around, 3 steps back, 3 steps forward again, turn around, 3 steps back. She continued this pattern at least 10 times before the cross-legged, stoned statue in the corner came to life and rose to her feet.
“Stop, your making me dizzy” came the voice, half giggling, half whispering.
“That's just the drugs talking fuck face, get back to your corner and leave me the fuck alone.”
More giggling came and then quieted when nothing further was said.
“You know you want some, just take a hit and you'll totally calm down, do it for Mary Jane, she'll get you what you need, don't worry about it, she wouldn't want you stressing like this.”
Just as she had finished saying this, the other stopped pacing and focused all her attention to the window once again.
“I hear a car, it has to be her”
A black 96' Camry flew down the street and fishtailed on the wet pavement, missing the mailbox by just inches and came to a stop in front of the house. The driver's door flew open and the long awaited Mary Jane sprinted across the muddy overgrown front lawn with a cardboard box tightly held to her chest. Her matted red curls absorbed the rain pouring down on her and then let all of it run straight down her face onto her stage-like makeup. Her torn gray sweatpants and 4 sizes-too-big neon pink t-shirt stuck to her as the rain pelted her with ever step. She finally made it to the front steps, where the pacer was ready to swing the door open upon arrival.
“OHMYGOSH--AREYOUROK?!?!?!” the pacer's words were blended together with a small pause to breathe.
“Hey, how's it goin Mary” mumbled the stoned statue who had slowly made her way to the door and greeted the visitor.
“You would not believe what i had to do to get this and get back here with it, its unbelievable what you hafta do to get a fuckin record player around here.”
Thunder rolled and they pulled Mary into the house and slammed the door tight; 4 seconds, 4 miles away, finally the storm was passing.
The pacer grabbed the box from Mary and placed it in the center of scratched wooden floor. The room was big with tall ceilings, spider webs adorning every corner, retro fashions of wallpaper showed through the one lazy coat of cheap white paint. But there was one cabinet against the wall that did not look a part of the scenery, it didn't belong there, but it was the most important part of the room and everyone there knew it. It was made of cherry wood and wasn't very big, but there wasn't a speck of dust on it or one scratch that could be found on its clear glassy finish. It had a small metal knob below an embellished key hole. It was the only beautiful thing in the house, it was the only thing that was ever even paid any attention. And finally the moment had come to open it.
The pacer rushed to it and dug deep into her oversized jeans' pockets for the key. Finally she withdrew a small key and inserted it into the lock above the knob on the beautiful cabinet. The door swung open and inside were the girls' only treasures, it was all they had left.
A shadowy figure sits cross-legged in the corner atop a pile of pillows and blankets, at first glance she is almost statuesque. Her arms rest beside her and she slouches over her makeshift bong in her lap. She takes a hit and holds it in a second, opens the corner of her mouth and watches the smoke dissipate into the air. Her hand rises to her mouth and the flicker of a lighter rises to meet another cigarette, probably her 10th that night.
The thunder rolls again and lightening strikes immediately afterwards, the time had come. The girl by the window begins to pace back and forth; 3 steps forward, turn around, 3 steps back, 3 steps forward again, turn around, 3 steps back. She continued this pattern at least 10 times before the cross-legged, stoned statue in the corner came to life and rose to her feet.
“Stop, your making me dizzy” came the voice, half giggling, half whispering.
“That's just the drugs talking fuck face, get back to your corner and leave me the fuck alone.”
More giggling came and then quieted when nothing further was said.
“You know you want some, just take a hit and you'll totally calm down, do it for Mary Jane, she'll get you what you need, don't worry about it, she wouldn't want you stressing like this.”
Just as she had finished saying this, the other stopped pacing and focused all her attention to the window once again.
“I hear a car, it has to be her”
A black 96' Camry flew down the street and fishtailed on the wet pavement, missing the mailbox by just inches and came to a stop in front of the house. The driver's door flew open and the long awaited Mary Jane sprinted across the muddy overgrown front lawn with a cardboard box tightly held to her chest. Her matted red curls absorbed the rain pouring down on her and then let all of it run straight down her face onto her stage-like makeup. Her torn gray sweatpants and 4 sizes-too-big neon pink t-shirt stuck to her as the rain pelted her with ever step. She finally made it to the front steps, where the pacer was ready to swing the door open upon arrival.
“OHMYGOSH--AREYOUROK?!?!?!” the pacer's words were blended together with a small pause to breathe.
“Hey, how's it goin Mary” mumbled the stoned statue who had slowly made her way to the door and greeted the visitor.
“You would not believe what i had to do to get this and get back here with it, its unbelievable what you hafta do to get a fuckin record player around here.”
Thunder rolled and they pulled Mary into the house and slammed the door tight; 4 seconds, 4 miles away, finally the storm was passing.
The pacer grabbed the box from Mary and placed it in the center of scratched wooden floor. The room was big with tall ceilings, spider webs adorning every corner, retro fashions of wallpaper showed through the one lazy coat of cheap white paint. But there was one cabinet against the wall that did not look a part of the scenery, it didn't belong there, but it was the most important part of the room and everyone there knew it. It was made of cherry wood and wasn't very big, but there wasn't a speck of dust on it or one scratch that could be found on its clear glassy finish. It had a small metal knob below an embellished key hole. It was the only beautiful thing in the house, it was the only thing that was ever even paid any attention. And finally the moment had come to open it.
The pacer rushed to it and dug deep into her oversized jeans' pockets for the key. Finally she withdrew a small key and inserted it into the lock above the knob on the beautiful cabinet. The door swung open and inside were the girls' only treasures, it was all they had left.