I wanted to wait to post my reflections on the stories so as not to influence your own posts, but then at the last minute I decided to share the beginning of this story I'm working on instead. Tell me honestly, class: would you keep reading a story that started this way?
Anyone at all concerned with moose preservation in Talkeetna, Alaska was gathered in Cindy Marshall’s apartment that fateful Saturday evening, some of them frozen in prayer position, asking God for anything but death – but oh, He works in mysterious ways.
Mary got to the place at eight, and opened the door to a room full of partygoers jumping out from behind furniture with a “Surpriii- oh it’s Mary.”
“Mark, hon, we really need to designate someone to watch who’s approaching the door – this is getting a little ridiculous. Mary! How are you! Welcome to the party!” Cindy was all smiles and party dress as she approached Mary at the door.
The apartment looked like a Jetson’s estate sale, hard wood floors and orange throw rugs that grew and pulsated under foot, a fichus in the corner with veins crawling up the wall and red light bulbs poking out of the greenery like little eyes – but then, Mary had taken drugs so it was impossible to know whether this was a weird set up or perfectly routine.
“I don’t understand,” Mary said. “Is this a surprise party?”
“Oh, no wonder!” Cindy guffawed. “You didn’t know! That is hilarious.”
“Aye Matey,” Cindy’s companion Mark said. “Can I get ye something to drink?” He had one arm wrapped up in his sweater, his lips curled, an invisible parrot. Mary sussed the whole thing out. Mark wasn’t actually a pirate; he was just pretending to be one, probably per some joke thrown out earlier in the night. Mary prided herself on her skillful inference.
“I’ll have a…” she paused to note the drugs rumbling in her stomach set to polish rocks. “Do you have any ginger ale?”
“Adorable,” Cindy said. “Just adorable.”
No comments:
Post a Comment