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Here, I'm working on a story. Please, COMMENT LOTS! It's called:
WEAK KNEES
Chapter I
Ugh. Shoveling snow. It wasn't so great once you were doing it. Only moments ago, I was in the shed watching the wind outside the window until it stopped. Doesn't sound so interesting, but it kept me busy and cozy in the heated snow shelter. The house was only next door, but I always liked being in the shed.
Years ago, Mom left. She took her belongings and departed from Dad's life. Oh, she still talks to me and keeps in touch, but with him? No, that's out of the question. She spent almost all of her time working in the shed, and whenever she was in there, I was by her side. Working on this and that, little trinkets or big projects involving much skill, I observed, not knowing at all what she was making. I was oblivious to what she was doing, and to tell the truth, I didn't care. I was watching to see the end result. But of course, Mom never finished a job. Not once had I heard her congradulate herself, or showing off her completed art. They all went into the metal trash bin near the door, which I don't think has ever been emptied. So after she left, the shed was cleared out with the exception of the trash bin. She shut the door and left from this property, never to set foot in her dream work house known to Dad as, 'The piece of junk shed that no one uses.' Maybe that's why she left...
As the years passed, I adjusted the shed to fit my needs and style. The building isn't much, and I'm sure it never will be. But it's mine, trust me, Dad had made a point of that.
"Where were ya'?" He'd be sitting at the computer playing Solitare.
I said, "In the shed." As I had taken off my sweater.
"You know," he got up and helped me with me boot laces, even though I was 14 and fairly capable of taking them off myself, "Your mother was always in there, and you were too Even when you were a little girl. I don't think I've ever been in there." He finished with one boot and moved to the other. I didn't stop him. "I think I have an idea. I'll give you new things and opportunities to earn money. With the money, I want you to buy and do anything you want to the shed." Both of my boots were by the door and he was sitting in a chair across from me now. Dad looked up from his folded hands into my eyes, trying to see what I was thinking. I tried not to think of it as prying. "I want you only to use the money on the shed, okay?" I nodded. "You can use it on whatever you want to decorate it however you wish. Deal?"
I looked at him. Dad was always a generous person, but this was still unusual.
"Sure," It was all I could think to say, "Why not?"
Boy, shoveling snow sucks. I shoved the shovel into the next pile of frozen percipitation in my path and flung it out of the way.
Just a few more minutes of this... I stopped, stood the shovel up to lean on and wiped my forehead. I looked at my glove. Nothing. I wasn't even sweating, but I felt wet on my face. Drip...
Agh! There it was again! I wiped my face with both hands, shovel falling without my weight on it, and I scrubbed my face, determined to get my gloves at least a tad saturated. I stopped when I realized how purely insane I was acting and looked around and at the wall of the shed to my right. Nothing. For laughs, I inspected my fabric covered hands. Dry as they were the last time I checked them.
"Whatever, let's not make this last longer than it has to." I whispered comments to myself as I bent for the shovel.
"Hey, 'Go!" Someone called that hideous nickname of mine. I turned to yell, "Say my name, it's Diego!" But all I could do was catch a glimpse of Dad as he pelts a snowball at my face. Ow. It burnt my lips and chilled my ears with forst. But it felt good all at the same time. I hadn't been hit with a snow ball in ...Well, a while. The sensation of it made me think about how much I love it here and reminded me of why I stayed with Dad and not moved to North America with Mom. I shook off the feeling fast so that Dad wouldn't notice, scooped up a handful of snow worthy of my force and chucked it at his arm. Then I picked up my shovel, swiped some snow and flew it in his direction. He was totally snow-killed. Victory was mine!
"Well," Dad spoke as he swiped the snow from his coat, "I've got to practice." He looked at me with a gleam in his eye. "Tea?"
Chapter II
In the darkest corner of the tangy shed adorned in yellow decorations in a peaceful mountain town in Greenland, a tender soul rested her tiresome body on a net of magic. This fairie was no ordinary fairie. Gorin was a guardian. To a rough shelled, yet gentle hearted girl named Diego. With a wave of the hand, Gorin's magic net moved from the dark corner to the little trash bin near the door. This bin was filled with all sorts of wooden 'goodies' to fumble with. Everytime Gorin looked at one, it seemed new, like he hadn't seen it before in his time here. But that couldn't be true, because he had seen every piece of art at least 13 times.
Gorin picked up the top piece of work in the bin, got out of his magic net, and collapsed onto the yellow couch. He inspected the seemingly new object that was being cradled in his hands. It seemed like a blue jay, this persumption coming from the brush stroke of blue paint on the back of the bird. One thing Gorin noticed about the figures was that not one was completed. This made it fun to try to guess what it's creator had in mind for the each individual figurine. But it's not as if he had to imagine who the maker was, for he knew that information. It was Diego's mother, who moved out sometime ago. Gorin didn't know much about her, she wasn't his responsibility. Diego was. And he had to watch over and protect her, for there was trouble brewing ahead for the child.
Gorin put down the bird carving on the yellow painted table in front of the corresponding colored couch and rose to his feet. He stretched his arms over his head and at the same time falling to his side only to land back in his magic net. The net carried him swiftly to his high corner to think the future events through. The time was coming to expose himself to Diego.
Chapter III
As the sun rose and the light reflected off of the shoveled snow, Diego arose with a start. She had the sudden urge to lounge in the shed. Diego strolled down the stairs to see her father eating breakfast.
"Your food is on the stove, dear."
She threw a look at the oven and continued her pace towards it. There were three pans filled with food. One containing scrambled eggs, another sausage, the last home fries. Deigo grimaced at the sight of the first pan. She despised eggs in any shape or form. Unless used in baking, of course, but that wasn't the case here. Seeing that her options were limited, she tossed the remaining sausage and home fries onto a plate, poured a cup of black coffee, headed for the door.
"I'm going into the shed, Dad!" She hollered from across the house.
"Okay! Just make sure to throw a coat on!" He continued to eat his eggs and sip his sugar and cream loaded coffee.
Disgusting, Diego thought as she scurried to the shed, her protection from the cold. The door was unlocked, as usual and she walked right on in. But when she came in, there was an amazing looking man settled on the couch, chugging a container of orange juice. Diego was so frighted, she dropped her plate. The plate shattered on impact, and the man appeared startled as he turned to notice Diego's appearance. The startled look faded fast and he gave her a sweet smile.
"Why, good morning, Diego. I thought you would respond to my call. I'm glad I know I can contact you-"
"Who are you!? What are you doing in my shed!?" Diego was surprised at the presence and how calm the man was. Aren't intruders supposed to be uptight? She thought.
Almost immediatly after her thought was completed, the man responded, "Yes, that's why I'm not uptight. I'm not an intruder, I've been in this shed for quite some time. Maybe a decade." He stopped to ponder. "Well, I've been here as long as you've lived here. Does that knowledge comfort you at all?"
Without knowing what she was doing, Diego sat in the yellow chair across from the couch, where the man was seated. He could read my mind and thoughts, that's for sure, and he seems to know me. He can't be too bad.
"So," Diego said, "You apparently know me." He nods. "Then why don't I know you?"
"I'm supposed to say hidden from your knowledge."
"Then why are you stalking me?!"
The man shrunk in his seat. "Well, now that you put it that way, it sounds horrible. But it's my job. Let me introduce myself." He rose and when he did, Diego couldn't believe her eyes.
 Print Me Out · Wed Jan 11, 2006 @ 12:26am · 5 Comments |
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