ok. i'm gonna start writing a story and then at some point, i will stop and i hope the next visitor/blogger will pick it up and carry story on. either post it in the comments or carry it to your blog. i hope you will join me. i think it will be neat to see where the story goes...and what creative minds we have out there....say as much or as little as you want.
>>They sat at the small table in the crowded restaurant. Even at 9:30pm, the place was still fairly packed, although not too noisy. A near empty second bottle of Girard Petite Syrah stood on the table, next to the nearly fading, white, non-scented candle. She swirled the last bit of wine in her riedel glass. The delicate flame from the candle was illuminating what last little bit of red she had left. She looked across the table and said, "i've got to go to the restroom, i'll be right back."
She walked toward the back of the restuarant, passing the hostess who looked like she had just arrived. Her make-up looked fresh, not one strand of hair was out of place. How can that be, she mused to herself as she walked by. She sighed and made her way into the ladies room. It seemed empty and she was thankful. She went over to the sink with the golden colored faucet. The warm water felt soothing on her hands. She turned off the faucet, grabbed the white cloth from the brown wicker basket and dried her hands.
She looked up and started to slow her drying as she saw herself in the mirror.
(i hope u will pick it up from here....)
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9 comments:
How interesting, a game of exquisite corpse. I'm not in yet, but I'm anxiously waiting to watch it develop.
And what she saw, startled her. She looked tired. The makeup did a decent job of covering up the puffiness but the weight of so many things had left their calling cards on her face. There was the job that fulfilled her materially but not emotionally and then there was the relationship sitting back at the table.
There had been a time when it and her had been enough. They had clicked on so many levels: spiritual, intellectual, emotional and yes, sexual. Now, every interaction, every gesture seemed forced.
As she gazed deeper and deeper into her own reflection, it seemed like her features began to blur and the bathroom seemed to fold in on itself. She felt herself careening downward at a very rapid pace. She had no sense of direction or time or anything.
With a sudden jerk, it all came to a halt and she slowly opened her eyes.
Someone had came into the bathroom, door swinging open and hitting the wall with a crash. She saw the back of this blonde woman's head as she tried to catch the door. She turned around and suddenly hazel eyes were staring at her. The blonde said, "I'm sorry - that door is out of control" The woman found herself smiling and saying "That's ok"
The blonde sensing she had broken some kind of moment, silence with the woman asked "Are you ok?" Just then the woman felt lightheaded she reached back trying to put her hands on the sink to stabilize herself and then blackness hit. The blonde shot forward just in time to catch the woman in her arms.
'Whoa', the blond women thought to herself and then said aloud -"shit". Just then she slowly lowered the stranger to the ground and very gently placed her head on some of those towels from the basket-thinking to herself how convienient that was. Just as she finished adjusting the woman she snapped out of it and tried to quickly get herself up. The blond woman told her to wait and to take it slow but the woman seemed to have other ideas. she pulled herself up with the help of the sink and tried hopelessly to compose herself. The blond woman asked her what her name was and if there was anyone she could call for her...
Settling back into the blonde's arms, the woman realized that the dizziness was starting to fade and more and more she was noticing the and appreciating the blonde's perfume. The intoxicating scent doing more to revive her than the coolness of the tile.
The woman suddenly realizing and remembering where she was and why, struggled to extract herself from the blonde's comforting hold. Flustered and embarrassed, she stood, stammered out a quick and hasty thanks and returned to the table.
Trying desperately to regain her composure, the woman realized that her lover had been crying. Believing she knew what was coming, she steeled herself to prepare for the blow...
Would not insult you or your friends by adding to the story (because I'm so not a writer), but love the idea and looking forward to seeing where it goes next..Why has he been crying? !
natalie--i hope you will put your 2, 5, 15, or 80 cents in....
For moments unending they seemed to sit in silence. A silence that was thick and heavy.
Syrah's fingers traced gently around the rim of her riedel glass, still the last remaining bit of red resting lazily in its bottom.
She lifted the glass gently to her lips, the aroma of the wine as smooth as its liquid beginnings. Her eyes closed slightly as she savored the remaining contents. Watching the swirling light in the opalescent remains that clung to its side, she placed the glass back on the table.
Syrah took a breath as her eyes traveled across the breadth of the white linen table and met those of her lover. This wasn't easy for either of them she thought, but although she was apprehensive, she took along breath and began to speak.
(excellent and fun idea, hope the typos are corrected this time;)
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