No Edge

Edward looked down below his feet at the thousands of people walking by, at the shiny cars glittering underneath the high noon sun. Would any of them think to look up? Would they see him? It’s always amazing how just one random person happens to look up in the movies where someone is about to jump, screams [it's usually a woman], and points at the small figure. Edward waited for that moment to happen. Cars streamed through traffic lights down below, an endless hum of energy and rolling tires saturating the air.

Is this what it felt like to be on top of the world? Edward had never been anywhere so high before. All his life he lived on the third floor of some apartment building, climbing up three stories every single day of his life. Going up to the twenty-fifth floor today had been difficult. Halfway up he had to stop to catch his breath. No elevators for this claustrophobic man.

Edward glanced behind him to the black Jansport backpack leaning against the gray ledge. It was half opened. The papers peeking out from his spiral notebook waved in the breeze that cut across the top of the roof. Higher places really were windier. He hadn’t felt this wind when he had gone downstairs earlier to buy some milk and bread. He stepped off of the ledge and squatted down to reach into the bag. His white shirt stuck to his back as the wind came back again. Maybe he shouldn’t have worn white. It was too late to go back and change though. He’d tossed his key out the window. All he had in his bag was the notebook, the milk, and the loaf of bread. Tiger bread. He always had to have tiger bread before he went to sleep. Its chewy, soft texture comforted him.

He pulled the loaf out and broke off the crusty end. The ends were always too hard. Sometimes, if he went to the bakery at the right time, usually around eight in the morning, he would catch the baker putting out the fresh bread. Those tiger loaves were nice and soft all around. He threw the end to the other side of the roof. Immediately a few seagulls and pigeons descended and began pulling it apart. Bits of white flew up in the air. He watched the feast for a few minutes, all the while pulling out bits of the loaves innards and stuffing them into his mouth. There was something about plain bread that was exciting to him. Most people didn’t understand. It had its own sweet, soft flavor that melted into his mouth. Whoever said bread was boring was wrong.

But it didn’t matter.

Edward folded the bread back into its plastic bag and put it back into his backpack. He took out the carton of milk and drank half of it. Skim milk. He only ever drank skim milk, because he was trying to lose weight. He put the milk down next to his bag and took out the notebook, opening it to the middle of the book. He was looking for a specific page, the one with the pictures and writing on it.

He found the page and put the open notebook on the ground. There wasn’t any wind, which was good, because the page was actually just a sheet of paper trapped in the notebook. If the wind picked up it would blow away. He read the page and then stood up.

It was a little silly, but he adjusted his shirt as he climbed onto the ledge again. He made sure the creases were straightened and pulled his pants up to his waist. He ran his hand through his straight brown hair. The sun burned his forehead and burned the back of his head as he looked down. The lunchtime rush was almost over. People were flocking back to their air conditioned cubicles and plexiglass walls of confinement. He took a step and went to join them.

A breeze passed through, picking up the sheet of paper from on top of the notebook. Its words flew away, to be read by the little girl in the elementary school playground who found it  and picked it up. It said, “My name is Edward. There is no edge. That is why I am leaving this world and going on to the next one. Goodbye.”

One of Those Days

Today is definitely one of those days that you know is going to go super slowly. I’ve been awake for three hours now. It is 2 in the afternoon but it feels like it should be closer to 4. The sky is gray, incredibly gray, borderding almost on white with not a hint of sun. It is also windy and the pavement is wet. Everyone in my flat has their door closed because everyone is revising [that's English speak for "studying"] for exams. I have been working too, and perhaps it is because I have been working that it feels like more time has passed than how much actually has.

I guess, to perhaps wake myself up before I get back to editing my dissertation, I will write a short story. I haven’t been keeping up with the alphabet stories very well. I do believe I am on letter “P”.

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Please help. I need to find my family but I don’t have any money. Please. Excuse me, sir. Please, my family is counting on me to bring back food and water, but they’ve disappeared somewhere. Please, no no don’t go! Please I’m not asking for much. Just some spare change. Whatever you can spare. See, look. Take a look at my jar. There’s no money in it. Only a few pennies and nickels. Nothing. It’s not enough to feed a family. I’ve got three kids. The youngest is only two! Oh please, won’t you help? Miss? Little girl over there? Good sir? No one?

Get out of the way, you filthy tramp.

Oh, please, don’t you have any spare change? Please, my family. Help me find my family.

What? No, get off me you disgusting vermin.

Just a little is enough. Anything to help. Nothing at all? Oh you must have some pennies lying around. Please sir.

Get off me or I’m calling the cops.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Kids? Darling, where are you? Oh darlings, where have you gone. Why have you left Mommy here, all by herself. I told you not to leave. Stupid little shits. Why can’t you ever listen to your mother. I’m telling you to stay where you are! Can’t even get a decent amount of change because none of you are here to help me. Goddammit. Little runts have run off with their bastard father. Come back here, sweeties! Mommy’s got some nice ham and bread. We’ll go and get some cheese at the deli. Come here. Oh darlings! Please, spare change? Anything to help. Just a little bit. Please, sir. Spare change. Spare some change.

Here. Now beat it.

Oh thank you, thank you. Lord bless you. Savior. Thank you, thank you. Excuse me, please. Don’t you have any change? Oh thank you, thank you. How gracious of you. Thank you. Could you help me find my children? They’ve run off somewhere. The youngest is only two. She can’t fend for herself. The oldest is only ten. They don’t know. Please, help me find my children. Help. Please.

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That’s it. Happy reading!

Epic Failure

After being back for five or so days and doing nothing but enjoying my break, I’ve slowly come to the realization that I haven’t been writing. Perhaps I arrived at this from reading someone else’s [hm, spell check why do you mark that wrong] blog and noticing how often he posts his short stories [which are incredibly short indeed, and not very well formed]. They remind me of how I write when I’m not really into it, when I just write for the sake of being able to say that yes, I have written something today. I’ve come to understand that that isn’t what it means to write. If I’m going to write something, I want to be able to truly write something that creates feeling in the reader, something that can travel from one of the spectrum to the other all within ten minutes time of reading [and perhaps writing!]

It is a difficult task indeed.

And since I haven’t been writing my alphabet stories, I suppose I should continue.

Okay, so after writing the story for today [letter O] I realized it is complete crap and I have no idea where I was going with it. But here it is.

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Out of all of the cheerleaders, Amanda was the only one who couldn’t afford to buy a designer bag. This didn’t make her upset, but it did cause for some awkward moments. Sitting on her side of the bench in the locker room, listening to the other girls talking about whose father had just bought them Coach or Gucci sometimes made Amanda cringe a little inside. It was especially worse when the girls would turn to her and ask about her father.

Amanda’s sweet, graying father was only a teacher. He raised Amanda and her sister by himself after his wife’s death ten years ago. Each day was a struggle but it was also a happiness, learning by his side and helping to teach her younger sister. So Amanda didn’t mind that she couldn’t brag to all of the other cheerleaders about her father’s non-existent yacht or the cruises they were going on that summer.

“Hey, Amanda,” one of the girls said.

Amanda looked up from tying her white tennis shoes on her feet. “Yea?”

“We’re gonna head out. Are you almost ready?”

“Just a second.” Amanda tied the double-knot and grabbed her blue and white duffel bag, the one that held her uniform, her pompoms, and extra pair of sneakers, a spare change of clothes, and her water bottle. Then she followed the team through the doors and down the steps to the grassy football field.

“Alright girls, huddle up!” their coach said, once all of the girls assembled. She held a brown clipboard in her right hand that clamped down pieces of paper in the strong wind that tore at their tracksuits. “The competition’s in two weeks. We’ve almost got the routine down but now we’ve really got to get it perfect. I don’t want anyone missing a beat.”

A blonde girl towards the back raised her hand and asked before being called on, “Coach, why’re we practicing outside?”

“Because I just found out the competition is going to be held in an outdoor arena. Since there’s probably going to be grass around and it will probably be windy, it’s time to incorporate that into our practices. Okay, let’s get into our positions!” The coach blew her whistle and the girls walked onto the center of the field.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. Why are you reading a story about cheerleaders, Stacey Ann?”

At the sound of the voice, Stacey Ann shut the book and looked around for the boy. Ronald walked over, the sun at his back, forcing Stacey Ann to shield her eyes in order to look at the tall blonde. “How can you see what I’m reading all the way from back there?”

“I know the kind of stuff you like. It was just a guess but I see that I was right.” He stooped down to pick up the book but she moved it out of the way. “Come on, just let me have a look.”

“No! You’ll make fun of me!”

“I already do. A little more won’t hurt.”

She pushed him away and hid her book in her backpack. “What do you want, Ronald? If you’re just here to make fun of me, I’m leaving.” She placed an arm through one of the straps of her bag and braced her hand on the ground to help push herself up. Ronald reached over and took her bag from her, the patted the ground next to her.

“Stay. I won’t say anything, promise.”

She looked at him with an eyebrow raised, then settled back into the flattened grass. They sat in silence for awhile, looking across the grass at the large brick school building both of them had left a half hour ago.

“When’s your mom picking you up?” he asked.

“She’s not. Sarah’s got a tennis lesson.”

“Oh. Wanna walk home together then?”

“Not really. It’s so nice out and it would just be lonely at home so I figured I’d read for a bit here.”

“Hence the book. Gotcha.” He bobbed his head a little bit and then got up, wiping the back of his jeans with his pale hands. “I’ll catch you later then. I’ll be at home if you get bored.” Then he walked back over the hill and down towards the main road.

Stacey Ann settled into the grass but didn’t take out her book. It had lost its grip on her the moment she had been interrupted and she wondered if she might have been better off stealing the cookbook instead of that book from the bookstore instead.

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I’ll be updating about Florence soon!

[Edit] Just wanted to add-10 followers! Woohoo! So excited! Okay, way too many exclamation marks there. Gotta keep writing.

I leave with a story

Far beyond the hills Amanda could see the herd of sheep grazing. Their little black noses nudged the sparse green grass, nosing out the tastier, younger strands. She squinted into the bright sunshine and laid down under the large oak tree. Somewhere down below, where the town lay, people would begin waking up. The fat jolly baker would open his door and beckon people into his shop, all the while making a grab for women’s behinds. He would leave a large flour-coated handprint on the right or the left, whichever side he managed to snatch. The women would yelp and wobble their fingers at him, then place a few coins in his outstretched hand and walk away with a big loaf.

Amanda closed her eyes. Little bugs tickled her cheeks and buzzed by her ears. She swatted them away. Though the sun was shining on her, their was little warmth from it yet, leaving Amanda shivering a little in her thin cotton smock. She gathered her shawl closer to her body to ward off the cold.

“Amanda!” It was Lionel, the boy from the next farm. Amanda could see a satchel hanging from his shoulder as he made his way around the curious sheep. “No, no, this ain’t for you, silly,” he said to the sheep.

“Hey, Lionel. Whatcha got there?”

He held up the dark brown rucksack and deposited it at her feet. Fist-sized balls of white mozzarella spilled out of the opening. “Here. Ma said t’ give some t’ ya while yous working out here. We made ‘em fresh jus yes’day aft’noon.” He picked up one of the larger balls and handed it to her.

Pulling her hands away, Amanda said, “Oh no, I can’t take that without paying, Lional. Ma would get mad at me.” She shook her head as he moved it closer to her.

“Well, how bout this then. We’s share it fer breakfast, and was lef’ yous can bring home t’ yer folks. Square?” He grinned, showing his crooked off-white teeth. One of the middle ones was chipped near the top. Amanda couldn’t remember whether that had been there before.

“Okay. That’ll work, Lionel.”

She reached for her own bag and pulled out a hearty loaf of dark bread. With her fingers she opened it down the middle, then broke it in half. Lionel had unwrapped the cheese and broken off bits. He put them into the offered bread and then handed one half back to her. Then he resealed the cheese and handed it to her.

They sat against the large leafy oak tree and watched the sheep grazing. The mozzarella was soft and chewy, salty on the outside, creamy on the inside. With her homemade loaf the sandwich was perfect.

“You know what I want to do one day?” she suddenly said.

“Wassat?” Lionel asked, stuffing the last bit of bread and cheese into his mouth.

“When I get old enough I think I wanna go outside.”

“What yer babblin’ bout? Yous already ou’side.”

“I mean, outside of the town. You know, see what else in in the world. There’s got to be more than this.” He nodded his understanding, still chewing slowly the last bit of breakfast. “Haven’t you ever been curious about what’s out there? I’d like to know. No more of this watching sheep business when I’m twenty.”

“I onno, I’s got a good life here. Yous pro’ly more cur’os cuz yous gone to school. I don’ really mind living here rest ma life.” Lionel picked at blade of grass from the ground and brought it between his palms. Then he make a shrieking whistle with it. The sheep all looking up for a second, registered that it was a false alarm, and went back to their nosing about.

Lionel stood up and picked his satchel off the ground. “You gotta do what is yous want, though, Amanda. If thas what you want, you should ‘splore outside. See ya.” Then he waved and headed back down the hill towards the town, reaching in his bag for some of the better looking mozzarella balls to advertise before selling.

Amanda sat back and looked at her dirty sheep. They didn’t care about anything except food. Sometimes she wished her parents had never sent her to school. Maybe they did it on purpose though. Maybe they wanted her to go somewhere else. She had a lot to start thinking about, but plenty of time to think about it. Summer was starting.

 

It is dark in this house

My arms glow with the faded light of a computer’s technological advances, typing in the dark. The daylight has faded ever so slowly but now the sky is glittering blue in the back. Streetlights turn on. They are orange and the bugs fly into it, blinded by the fake sun. I am happy but look forward to tomorrow, where more overwhelming thoughts of travel and monetary genocide will occur soon. My story continues on its paper, written, but far from completed.

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On a more serious note, I haven’t been doing a good job with the alphabet stories. I think I left off with “J” last Friday when I left for London, where I would have spent the weekend without cash due to a fiasco with my debit card, but thankfully my friend was kind enough to loan me enough money for the weekend. I now wait in anticipation for my new debit card, hoping it will arrive here before I depart for the mainland. Europe is expensive and money/card problems are not what I need right now.

I managed to finish my prose dissertation on the train ride back to Norwich but it is far from completed. I still need to type it into my computer and then do some major editing. The ending was definitely written too quickly and without much attention because I couldn’t concentrate very well with the woman sitting next to me in an almost empty train.

Traveling requires many details, which I never realized until now, because I am organizing my own traveling and it is giving me headaches and frustration and anxiety that I do not want to deal with. However, once that is over I can live my life peacefully as I travel so I need to man up and do it. My transportation is all set. Next step is living arrangements, printing out tickets and reservations, and packing. And hopefully my new card arrives before I leave without it!