Aug. 24th, 2011

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Now, I am working on a story project, and the above is part of one of the objects, or items in the story.

Below is a short drabble of one of the story's characters, that just kinda walked into the story today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Joe settled for his third night, wrapped in real sheets, a real quilt, and having real food in his stomach. he had real memories floating up, of a big house and a generous family, of that last summer, where he felt so grown up because he dove, and swam from the big people's end of the pool. Like an otter. He counted pennies and searched the internet and played poker with his grampa--who for the first year played pennies and quarters with him.
He was not seven anymore, he was eight, and he could sit down and read and run off to visit Aunt Tori and play real poker with money not candy with his Grampa Alan.

That summer was so long ago, and now Joe settled down and saw the safety lanterns and a candle flickering, and the ornate deep greys and reds and of the train berth they were in, some faded cream and gold leather seats across from the booth, from his vantage point tucked into safe, soft quilts. He was a man, almost he knew that, and he hadn't been a boy in years.
For the first time, the grip on his trusty knife was relaxed.
His mother came by him, and took it gently from his hand, gave him a cup with water, and sat across him. She had clean clothes, and her dirty yellow hair almost looked golden in this light.
He gulped.
She untwisted her hair, and curled up with a thin blanket and a sheet, too. the berth's benches was quite enough of a bed, and very comfortable.
He said,slightly whispering,
"Mom, you look pretty, and this home?"

Marie Delfino hadn't wanted children, well, she just didn't. Her parents weren't bad, good, maybe just there. They had kept them fed, clothed and sheltered, and taken them on weeklong trips to relatives in slightly different cities. Mom had a slight flare up ot bad temper now and the, and dad had gone for long weekends ever so often. She hadn't liked crowing around with seven brothers and sisters.
She looked at the young man who looked too much like her not to claim him, but of course, he was her father's brother's very youngest son.
Joe Delfino called her mom because that is what she was, in a way, of a sort, and it had worked out, this child was almost seventeen, and after a decade on the road, after maybe around half that time barely living, and half that time being in an almost okay situation...

"Thanks, Joe, and I don't know."

Somebody had walked by them. She was slender, with sharp young features, and what Marie though looked like some Victorian outfit on, except for the practical jeans on, and she leaned towards both of them.

"You are in a town called Esperanza, which means hope."

"Ma'am, where is this train going?"

"Well it is the railroad going nowhere."

Then she gave them a sealed bottle of water, and a little basket of snacks.

A few lanterns and what little candlelight was snuffed out and she smiled in the near dark,
"Goodnight, Joe, and Marie."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is a rough draft, but there it is.
(I just cleared a little error up...)
"copyright Kay Dawson, 2011"

The Girl

Aug. 24th, 2011 01:36 am
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Here's another drabble from my story project...
It is still meandering around my brain, but thereyago...


The girl lifted her dress, once a decent pale teal green, now faded and slightly worn looking, to keep away from the step covered with muck and mud to get to the well, slightly less dirty boardwalk.
Sometime tomorrow, the sweeps would be out and the water spalshed and it would cleaned, and the muck and mud would dry, and maybe just maybe this spring and summer would see asphalt paving on this, the third most traversed street in Esperanza.

The woman who went into Brownstein's Bar and Saloon and Media Emporium doubted it sincerely.
A decade lost in this backwater town, and here she was, slipping behind a bar counter, to find a few choice bits of contraband.
There they were. Nice and neat and labled
For her.

Mr Brownstein was directing traffic. A trader had come by last night, and from the look of it, this trade had been extremely good, large, and with some items that would bring customers young and old, new and of record to Mr. Brownstein's establishment.

She tucked the items in her large purse, and then went over to Mr. Brownstein.

He grinned at her. Javier Chieng-Ruiz, the experienced cook who knew her well, sat on a table in front of her, black bean and chicken burritos, real coffee, real orange juice, eggs, and then sat down across from her. Mr. Brownstein sighed, shrugged his shoulders and shouted to his crew, "break off for an hour, have breakfast, and get yourself a nice piece of chocolate!Take one extra for your folks!"

Mr. B sat down, and the cook served up bacon and cinnamon buns for the both of them.

Javier said, "Good load, Mr. B. How much chocalate?"

"100 pounds First time in 3 years! Well, at least that much!! Jeeze. If only money was know."

Javier laughed. He had noted that the trader caravansery had some very precious items for him...salt, corn, flour, and sugar! He couldn't wait to give Mrs. Chieng-Ruiz all the ingredients she needed for brownies. First time since Christmas.
"And there was coffee?"

The girl clutched her bag. She then sipped some of the coffee, and dug into her burrito and eggs. It was all so good that she forgot to talk, forgot to look around, and all she could think of was the let up in rain, how wonderful eggs were with black pepper, and that Javier's sideburns were grey but nothing else, the rest of his hair was jet black and very straight and the orange juice was sweet and fresh,and after that, there was the empty plate, the three parcels in her purse, and she looked around. Mr. B was back directing the traffic of his various goods, the women upstairs over the bar and saloon were drifting about enjoying breakfast, and the Media Emporium seemed to have a few customers wandering through.

She went to the back lounge, fixed up her hair.
Antonia Allen was there, readying her bath behind the screen.

"Girl! How are you doing?"

"I am doing. I might even earn a few silvers for whatever those visitors are looking for."

"If they need something I am, and Bianca, and Sally is available. Penny is indisposed, and MeiMei has a longtime visitor she is actually going to visit, out of town, an important official."

"I'll keep that in mind. And when MeiMei comes back, please ask them all over to my house, for ...tea."

Antonia eased herself into steaming water. It smelled like rose and jasmine.
"We all could use actual to goodness afternoon away from here, just talking amongst."

"I'll find some rare item for everyone, even MeiMei."

At that, after the girl fixed her hair, twisted it up and almost looked older than maybe fifteen years, she went to the Media Emporium.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Rough draft, copyright Kay Dawson, 2011.


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