Icouldn'tthinkofagoodenoughtitle

The white bus with blue and red stars, tinted windows and the name “The Friendly Rider” drove quietly through the small town. The slogan under the innocent name proclaimed “an easy way to get from here to there”.

The sun was sinking on the horizon, signaling the end of the calm summer evening. The only sounds were an occasional car as it drove by, and a dog barking a few blocks away.

A tired girl sat on the bench on the corner of 6^th and Illinois Ave. She’d had a long day at work, and she had an even longer walk home. Her black shoes hurt her feet, but were a requirement on the job.

Just then the Friendly Rider pulled up the curb. She wasn’t at a bus stop, and she hadn’t waved them down, but the bus ground to a stop alongside her. She’d never taken the bus before, but tonight she thought, “sure, why not?”

She didn’t pay much attention to the driver as the doors slowly folded open and she reached in her purse to find her fare. She mumbled her destination and made her way to the third row, vaguely noticing the absence of other passengers, other than an older lady in the very back, and plopped down on the seat.

The girl reached down to loosen her shoes, and leaned her forehead against the window. The boulevard trees flew by and she closed her eyes, listening to the soft noise of the engine. Before she knew it she had dozed off.

When she opened her eyes it was dark. The sun had finally slipped behind the horizon, and there was just a faint glowing line left. She rubbed her eyes as she peered out the window, her mind groggy and confused and she didn’t recognize the road passing by. She shook her head and just as she began to realize that this wasn’t the way home, the bus slowed and pulled onto a dark dirt road.

She could just make out a few dilapated* buildings, and what looked like an old fairground. She began to panic and started up the aisle, questioning the driver. “Where are we? What is this?” she asked, but her only answer was silence and a blank stare ahead.  

She pushed on the doors, thinking that if they weren’t going too fast she would jump, but they were locked shut. They rounded a corner and came to a sudden stop. The doors opened and the girl jumped out.  Bright lights lite her panicky face as she stared up at a Ferris Wheel, the only apparent life in an abandoned fairground. And then she noticed the clown.

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I don't usually write stories like this, but this one popped into my head one day when thinking about how utterly creepy the "Friendly Rider" bus is. Not to mention fairgrounds at night.  My sister says I have to much of an imagination... but hey, it runs in the family.

Kind of like Sisters

So I've decided that I hate short stories... so much for thinking this was an easy assignment. They always end up so lopsided... my intro is as long as the rest of the story for crying out loud. And the whole thing doesn't have a very strong story line for someone who wasn't there. Ahhhh! I guess practice makes perfect... So I should just suck it up and do more, right? haha

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 The girl waited impatiently to leave the plane. She stood in the isle with her backpack slung across one shoulder and her suitcase at her feet. She pulled at the neck of her Twins sweatshirt and shifted. Thoughts flashed through her brain, ‘was this really a good idea?’ she second guessed herself.

Eventually the line started moving and everything went from the quiet calm on the plane to busy people rushing here and there, the sound of roller bags on the linoleum, sometimes a different language. The girl briefly wished she wasn’t wearing a sweatshirt and tennis shoes in the California airport, but the thought was interrupted by the sound of her name.

“You’re here!” hugs, parking lots and cars followed, and then a year’s worth of catching up. It didn’t take long to skip the small stuff and jump right into what God had been doing in their lives, but still the quiet doubts lingered.

The next day the two found themselves in San Diego, looking for a gelato shop in the midst of all the crazy ComicCon goers. After enjoying cappuccino flavored gelato they ventured up the outside staircase to find the bathrooms. Laughing and talking as the followed the sign the pushed open the door and stopped when they realized it was a single bathroom.

  

 “ummm, go ahead,” one of them said, and the other walked back to the main room to awkwardly read the bulletin board. Before she could get to the board however, one of the men sitting at a table looked up from his computer with a laugh and remarked, “not that good of friends, huh?”

“ha… yeahhh not that good,” she managed, and the man went back to his work.

The girls had a good laugh about it on the two hour drive back, “what an awkward comment!

Nine days, a wedding, four days of camping in a small tent, tramping all over Yosemite with their bibles, a day of rock climbing, being mistaken for sisters (and mother/daughter), meeting crazy people, brushing their teeth in the street, 24 hours in the car and hoards of adventures later, they were sitting at a picnic table in the dark, somewhere in the mountains, talking.

One of them remarked on how they both had such similar taste, “I mean we never have to argue about what kind of music to listen to, we get the same kind of coffee where ever we go, we like the same kinds of food, and the same kinds of activities. It’s kind of a good thing...”

“I know! It’s a really good thing… Otherwise I don’t know how the ten days would have gone. To be completely honest I was kind of wondering how good idea this was,” said the CA girl. “I was thinking, ‘I liked her at Photoj and all, but that was two years ago..”

“Since we’re being honest… I had the same thoughts!” admitted the one that came to visit, “What if we didn’t have any of the same tastes!? What if we didn’t get along very well and had to spend all that time together?!?”  The two laughed about how unfounded their fears had turned out to be, and tried to ignore the fact that they wouldn’t be together in another day.

The next night was her last night in Cali. She cuddled up on the floor while her friend crawled into bed. “What are you doing down there?!? Get up here and bring your pillow!"

She laughed, “I guess maybe, by now, we are ‘that good of friends’.” 

Boxes: A Short Story

“She turned the business card over in her hands, feeling the smoothness with her fingers. She contemplated the story it might tell, but for some reason her mind couldn’t go anywhere other than a romantic meeting of the guy and a girl.

“What is wrong with my brain?” she wondered. Sometimes she felt her mind was stuck on one track, and even though she hadn’t placed it there, she couldn’t get it off.

Stories. That was what she thought about. Always thought about stories. But lately her stories were limited to love stories. She loved adventure, but she had no plots without guy plus girl. “Oh boy, I feel like a hopeless romantic.”

And this writing was making things no better. She sighed and laid down her pen.”

Smiling she turned the page. Sitting back on her heels, she pulled the box full of journals closer. Reading them was amusing, to say the least. “I was such a hopeless dork!” She kept turning the pages. This one was from 2006, and so much had changed since then.

She resumed her reading, losing herself in her thoughts from long ago. Struggles with her life and her work that seemed so large then, but in hindsight appeared almost laughable. Entry after entry made mountains out of molehills, but she survived, and what was happening in the present made all the scraps worth it.

Some of the entries made a few tears trickle* out, while others made her laugh. “Oh I wish I had known what would happen after that,” she sighed. 

Then of course there were the multiple entries like the above one. “Geeze, girl, what was your problem. It’s not the only thing in life, and boy am I glad I’ve figured that all out now.” She rolled her eyes at the old her, and all her “heart problems” and “boy issues”.

“Whatever made me think that about him?” “Wow, that was stupid.” “girly, it’s not that big of a deal. You’ll get over it.”

She closed the journal, and stacked it back in the box, replacing the cover and carrying it to the storage closet. She shut the door and smiled at how mature she felt after reading her old problems. In her pocket her phone started vibrating. Looking down her heart jumped, breathing deep she tried to calm it.

“Hello? Oh hey!” Thump.

*yes Jennette... they trickled. 

Summer

[I have a bad case of spring fever right now, which is not good considering the fact that the high today was 3. yeah. Anyway, this little.. {not sure what to call it} story (?) was my attempting at capturing the feels of a summer day. And boy I can't wait for one. haha]
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The sun was just coming over the hill, shining through the window, as she crawled out of bed. She threw up her hair and slipped into her favorite yellow skirt. Putting flip-flops on her feet, she grabbed her bible and a cup of coffee and in the quiet stillness of the morning sat on the porch.

She curled her legs under her skirt as she sat, drinking in the cool morning air and the fresh smells of growing things. Her arms had slight goosebumps on them, and she hugged herself.  She thought about things, about life, and about her God. After a half hour of quiet time, she went back into the busy house, where the family was loud, getting ready for the day.

Hoisting up the laundry basket full of wet clothes, she lugged it out to the clothes line. The morning sun shone over the roof of the house and in her eyes as she hung the clothes. She shook them out, pinned one side and then the other, and moved to the next piece of laundry. She hung the last piece and stacked the baskets next to the pole.

Later that day she played Frisbee with her friends, meeting them at the park. She kicked off her flip-flops and felt the grass fit between her toes. She pumped her arms, and moved her legs as fast as they would carry her, reaching for the Frisbee someone threw. They played until they couldn’t play any longer. No one cared who won, they just played for the rush. At the end of the night she had grass stains on her knees, dirt on her hands, and spent legs. She’d laughed a ton, smiled a lot and run until her chest hurt.

They sat around on the grass, exhausted and happy, talking as the night got cooler. She grabbed her hoody from the car, pulling it over her head and leaving the hood up. She stood leaning on the open car door, talking a little longer to a friend, soaking in the night.  

Soon she was home, ready to plop into bed in the dark. Her skin felt smooth against the cool sheets, and her head light against the pillow. The windows were open, there was a cool breeze against her face and she could hear the frogs chirping in the pond as she fell asleep.