Lucid Waking

            “I hate holiday shopping and I have always hated holiday shopping. Just the concept of wasting my time going from store to store all day for the past few weeks to get gifts people will most likely throw away or return. And when they get them it’s that momentary surprise and happiness when the next day, we’ll end up not talking to each other until the next year.
            “Christmas this year is going to be hell. I don’t know how I’ll manage. I’ve got the turkey to put in the oven and of course ham (Dad won’t even sit at the table if there’s not ham). I have to make the mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, and cranberry sauce. Then there are the carrots and green beans, and I’ll have to put the stuffing in the oven separate from the bird. I’ve heard that there’s this big problem with people getting sick from the stuffing because of the bacteria still in the bird. Desert, thank God, my sister is handling. Then I have to make eggnog, with and without alcohol, and hot chocolate, tea, and coffee. All this, for whom? My cousins, three aunts and their husbands, mom, dad, my two sisters, my brother in law, three nieces and a nephew, a couple of friends who have nowhere else to go, and this new boy that my younger sister has been dating. I have to figure out where they’re all going to sleep, make hotel reservations and kick the kids out of their rooms for one night. The next morning, I’ve got to make something different, mom never liked leftovers, so I’ll have to wake up at the crack of dawn to make cinnamon buns, pancakes, bacon and sausage, and scrambled eggs. We’ll see if I can get away with re-serving the ham. Then I’ll freshly squeeze the orange juice (Aunt Jean won’t have it any other way) and serve milk for the kids. Augh, I’ve still got presents to buy and then rush home and wrap them before the kids come home. But I have to figure out how I’m going to hide them if Howard isn’t home. We’ve got them in the top cabinet in our furnace room, now, and I can’t reach. We put cabinets in there just for storage, it makes the whole room a little nicer and if the kids play hide-and-seek, they don’t see their Christmas gifts. Anyway, I’m almost done with my shopping, but I still need to drive over to Nordstrom’s and get a gift certificate for my niece. I had no idea what to get her. Do you think a fourteen year old is too old for these Goosebumps books? He might want to get something a little more his age. I’ve just noticed that he’s been checking them out of the library a lot. I wonder if that means much? He might just be—”
            “Ma’am, are you going to buy this?”
            She stopped mid-sentence and looked around her. The cashier was looking at her annoyed. There was no longer a line behind her as the lady who had pulled up behind her was just moving her cart to another line.
            “Yes,” she said, her face burning. “How much?”

Filed under: Realistic Fiction by Bri
No Comments »

            “You aught to know what happened to Sandra,” Margarita said, quietly, glancing at the 700 to make sure he wasn’t watching her. “She was an actress, a good one too. And when Maxwell decided that he needed her, she disappeared from the scene. He erased her records, burned her films, and got rid of her completely. No one knew what had happened and when there was no written work, people just assumed she wasn’t real. Then, he used her. She was the face of democracy, she was the distractions he needed to get into hotels, past security, and rubbing elbows with the people we were to kill. Her last job was this tape. She wrote out the lines that Aaron had to say and then went into one of those rooms and recited her lines. Improvised the hell out of them and then, like promised, killed herself. Well, that’s what we were told, but no corpse can be so mangled if she did it to herself. We had no idea whether this would work until long after she was dead. None of us, except Aaron and Maxwell had seen it before.”
            “Why are you telling me this?” Cindy asked, pale. She could feel her hands getting numb from the cold and her stomach was knotting up at the smile the 700 had on his face.
            Margarita shrugged. “I didn’t seem to hurt to tell you. Whatever he’s got planned, I’m sure it won’t matter if you know a little bit more about the morals we run on. I was drafted into this, like you, and no matter how much you know, if you get out alive, the information you have won’t make a difference.”
            Maxwell 700 stood up and bowed. “Please excuse us, we will be a while. Some preparations need to be made.”
            As the 700 and his entourage of robots walked towards a nearby door, Aaron walked over to her with a smile. “Well, nervous?”
            Margarita pushed him away. “She doesn’t need you anymore. Why should she trust you?”
            “And she should trust you?” Aaron sat down on the step and leaned against the wall like he had done in her office. “God, he’s making this so long. Why can’t he just get it over with? I’m sick of all the drama.”
            “It seems like his whole existence is drama,” Cindy said, sitting next to him. “What’s you’re story, Aaron? I can’t believe you’ve been here all your life.”
            “Yep. I’ve pretty much help build the place. Before I inherited the title of ‘technology connoisseur,’ we had a guy down here that would do nothing but build traps, lights; basically all the stage junk you see here. It’s crazy. He’s probably going to push a button and create an entirely new room.”
            Margarita sat down on the floor between the two. “Hey, Aaron. Weren’t you drafted down here? You used to live with you’re parents on Earth, right?”
            Aaron sighed. “My parents were target for trying to get the robots off Earth and keep it purely environmental. It was a sticky situation, but somehow they succeeded and the word got all the way to Betelgeuse VII. After that, he pulled me down here to do mostly tech jobs, but occasional assassinations. Nothing too big. See, I acted too before I came here and I managed to make him believe I was sincere in my cause. It’s up to you to trust us, but I thought before you go, just a couple tips, it seems like he’s almost done. If he uses room seven, just make sure not to touch anything. Room six, I would not look into the light. Room five, Keep down low, and don’t stand up all the way. Room four, I hope not, but there are lots of weapons in room four. Try not to touch anything, but if you’re in a jam, there are plenty of things to use. Don’t believe anything you see in room three and room two and room one should be fine. They’re just storage rooms, so you’re not going to be there. If you are, just use the walls; they’re the only two rooms with real walls.”
            Cindy gaped at him. “Wait! Room seven, don’t— “
            “No time,” Aaron said getting up walking away with a faux air of superior annoyance, “remember he likes theatrics.”
            Maxwell 700 announced his arrival with the clank of rusty metal. “The idea is quite simple,” he started, lifting her up from her seat and escorting her to the only open door in the room. “It’s less of a strength game than one of wits. You receive a riddle and when you answer the riddle, you are given a key. The key will enable you to continue to the next room. Take as long as you need. Good luck.” At these last words, the 700 pushed her into the room and shut the door loudly. She waited for the click of the lock before a single spotlight clicked on to a box in the middle of the room. She approached it slowly, but remained on the outside of the circle of light. Cindy looked up into the rafters, trying to find the light source and hopefully, what the 700 had in store for her. She remained absolutely still and waited. At a point, it took her entire will to stop her mind from just pulling the rest of her into the circle of light and move, but she remained composed. Compromising, she sat down and folded her hands in her lap.
            She was awakened by the sound of the door opening and someone entering, but there was no other sound following that. She turned around to face her visitor, but couldn’t see anything and when she turned around a figure had stepped into the light and opened the chest in the middle. Instantly, there was a whir of machinery and clicks of the room being changed. The robot calmly handed her the piece of paper and stood facing her without another move. At her touch, the paper disintegrated and turned into a sandy powder. Lights dimmed on in front of her to reveal a beach. She felt the robot pushing her forward towards the soft sand, pulsing waves, and warm breeze. Cindy took a deep breath of the metallic air and turned to face the source of the waves to brush away the wisps of hair starting to frame her face. Her eyes rested on a lone figure sitting on the sand. The creature’s hair was black and the artificial sun gave it a blue glow. As she approached, she saw it was an ageless man resting his head on his knees, his green-gray eyes focused on the sea. He made no move of recognition when she caught up with him and sat down next to him on the sand. She followed his gaze with her own pastel blue eyes to the glowing white line of the horizon.
            “I suppose you want the question,” he said. His voice was thick with a Scottish accent and her mind took a few seconds to comprehend what he had said. He took this as an answer and concluded, “I don’t know.”
            “Quite,” she said, though she couldn’t figure out why. “Just the key if you will.”
            The man looked at her. “Key?”
            “Well, if you don’t have the question, then surely you have the key.”
            He looked at her blankly for a moment and then laughed. His laughter ceased as quickly as it had started and he looked at her with stone cold eyes. “Clever of you. But while I don’t have a question, I do have an answer.”
            They sat looking at each other for a while before Cindy stood up. “Get up,” she said, annoyed. She pulled him from his seat and dragged him across the sand.
            He protested and tried pulling his arm away from hers when he thought she was relaxing her grip, but she managed to hold on fast to his arm and drag him across the beach. Her stomach started to growl when she dared stop and she plopped onto the ground, pulling the man down with her.
            “I haven’t seen the end of this beach,” the man said out of breath. He was lying on the sand, his arm still in her hand, leaning against his elbow as best he could manage. He gazed at her quietly for a few moments while trying to regain his breath. “I don’t suppose there is an exit. People come in all the time, but no one has ever come out.”
            Cindy stared at the waves reluctantly. “Where is everybody?”
            The man sighed and lied down in the sand submissively. “I’m the last one. The girl I found just disappeared after I got lost. She made me swear for my life to say to the next person who came in: I suppose you want the question, but I don’t know. And the other rubbish.”
            Cindy looked at him with a start. “How’d you get lost?”
            “I just—I don’t know. Suddenly I was here all alone and after walking for days, I couldn’t find anyone else.”
            “Damn, I knew it!” Cindy cried, pinching her nose bridge with her free hand.
            “What?” the man asked, scrambling to sit up to be at eye level with her.
            “That’s the riddle. Well, not really. The whole this is a puzzle.”
            “I don’t understand.”
            “He puts someone into this room and says to solve a riddle and you get a key. This key is how you get to the next room. The riddle is figuring out that he removes the previous person when a new person comes in. You could leave, but then I’m stuck until someone else comes. The key is you; you’re my ticket out of here. The next room is wherever you lead me when they take you away. So, we can’t get separated or I’m stuck.”
            The man looked at her. “I’ve never realized that.” He sat there in silence for a while before prying his arm gently from her grip. “If you promise to get me out, I’ll try and help you. But I don’t want to be stuck here any longer.”
            Cindy put her hand on his shoulder. “I promise."

To be continued…

Filed under: Fantasy, Hero Cycle, Science Fiction by Bri
No Comments »

What you see and what you want to see are different. I want to see me having a romantic relationship with him. What I see is blood. I’ve ruined the chance I had. I can’t run and he’s calling the police. I had to kill her; she was with him and I couldn’t stand it.

Filed under: Realistic Fiction by Bri
No Comments »

Originally published April 01, 2006

                “Oh, no!” she gasped. She stared at the bare floor where her seventy-five thousand dollar rug was lying before she went to sleep that night. Now at nine o’clock in the morning, there was nothing there but wood floor and a note conspicuously placed on the spot that it had been. She ran down the stairs and picked up the note before running into the study, hoping no one in the house woke up. She closed the door quickly, locked it and turned on the light that sat dimly in the middle of the worktable. She cautiously opened the piece of paper, breaking the purple, wax seal pressed with a picture of a house in flames. Her hands started to shake and she became pale as she read through the letter: You’re payments are way past due, Celia, and we have given you a final warning. Fortunately, we have discovered the exact amount we needed in your home last night and we will receive this in exchange for the alternative. I hope you don’t cross us again and continue to send the proper amount to The Sender at the bank.  Should you mention this event or letter to anyone, remember what happened to Rachael and don’t underestimate our network. Thank you for your payment, and make sure your payments are not late, again. No substitution will work next time. Sincerely, The Caretakers. Ps. I’m sure your husband would love to hear about that affair you’ve been having for some time, especially since you have the baby coming. But don’t worry; we won’t harm the child.
                A rapid knocking on the door made Celia jump as she hid the letter in her slipper and ran to open the thick polyester curtains. Sunlight burst into the space as she ran across to the other side of the room, switching the light off as she went.
                “Celia, what’s wrong? And what happened to the rug I bought you in China?” her husband asked her through the still closed door. His voice was slightly muffled, but it was still apparent that he was worried about her. Her heart sank as she thought of the future child that most likely wasn’t his, but he would see as his own, anyway.
                She frantically ran to the door, trying to make as little noise as possible and unlocked it. “I’m sorry, love. The rug is getting cleaned right now. I didn’t tell you. It’ll be back next week.” At least, she thought, it will give me a week to find it and replace it with cash.
                “As long as you know where it is,” her husband led her into the room and sat her down, taking the chair across from her. “But, what was all that yelling about?”
                “Oh, just pains. I’m sure this baby will be a soccer player with they way he or she kicks,” she smiled slightly and took her husband’s hand.
                “And why were you locked up in the study?”
                “Oh, you know how vocal I am. I didn’t want to wake you.”
                Her husband smiled at her and stood up. “You should have thought of that before you screamed the first time. But I’m glad everything is all right.”
                She smiled until he left the room when she collapsed and put her head in her hands. She listened for the click of the door upstairs when her husband closed the door of the library to start work. She slowly got up and tiptoed up the stairs to her bedroom and sat down at the vanity. She pulled out pearl necklaces and diamond bracelets frantically and placed them in a cardboard box before getting dressed and going down to the bank. She waited until the desk in the farthest corner was open and stepped up.
                “Yes, may I help you?” An ageless woman sat at the desk with golden brown hair and hazel eyes behind glasses. She smiled a usual plastic smile of a corporate worker having a long day, but there was fire behind her eyes that seemed out of place.
                “I’d like to send this to my caretakers,” she said giving the woman the box. “Next day delivery, if possible.”
                The woman frowned slightly, and placed the box in her desk. Her eyes still seemed to have a mischievous look, but she said in an absolutely serious tone: “That’s going to cost a little extra.”
                “How much?” Celia asked hurriedly pulling her wallet out of her purse.
                “Twenty dollars,” the woman said as she pulled out a blue form from a filing cabinet and started filling out information.
                Celia pulled out a fresh twenty from her pocket and placed it on the desk, quickly leaving the bank. When she got home, she found a note on her pillow.
                Thank you for your next payment. We appreciate the promptness of this installment. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. Sincerely, The Caretakers.

Filed under: Mystery, Realistic Fiction by Bri
No Comments »

Remember to vote! Best of the Blog due date is quickly approaching. Soon it’ll be the last week and you’ll have so much to read. I apologize for the amount of reading to do, but it can’t be helped. Personally, I don’t care how you decide, but I would really like your vote. To review: the last votes will be taken December 31, 2006 at 11:59 PM. On January 1, 2007, I’ll post the winners and put them on the Best of the Blog page. Then, I’ll get rid of all the links for this years posts, and we’ll start over with the post written for the first of the year. If there are any questions, leave a comment and I will answer it.

Filed under: Real World by Bri
No Comments »

Originally published on March 31, 2006

            “Have you ever known the peace that you have just before waking? That split second before your brain acknowledges the sensory world around you and your dreaming world drifts away, that feeling of absolute serenity before it shatters like a soap bubble.” Grandmother Meredith looked out the window of the hospital at the azure sky. Tami grabbed her grandmother’s hand and gave it a little squeeze.
            “We’ll get through this, Grandma. Don’t worry.”
            “Every morning, I used to get up and make orange juice. Then Tom would join me downstairs and we used to sit on the porch and drink the juice. At eight, he would go to work and I would take care of the kids. We lived a long life like that. I don’t know what he’s going to do without me. I don’t think he knows how to work the stove let alone the washing machine…” her grandmother’s voice trailed off as she choked back tears. Tami sat on the edge of the bed and held her frail grandmother close.
            “Grandpa said to hold on. Besides,” she sat her grandmother up on the bed and looked her in the eyes, “Sam will be more than willing to teach him how to use the washing machine.”
            Meredith smiled and for a moment Tami saw the young thirty-year-old woman who would get up at six in the morning to make orange juice for her husband. The same woman who stood proud when her daughter got married and took care of baby Tami while her parents were away. Then the smile left and she closed her eyes and turned her head.
            Tami choked back tears and held her grandmother’s hand to her heart. “Please pull through, Grandma! I love you!”
 
            Several weeks later, Sam and Tami were sitting outside on their balcony when the phone rang. Tami went in and answered it. She stood for a couple minutes inside before hanging up and joining Sam on the balcony again.
            “Well? How’s Meredith?” Sam asked her holding her hand in his.
            Tami looked across the driveway and watched the kids playing baseball in the park a block away. She smiled and glanced down at their hands.
            “She’s fine. She’s coming home on Wednesday.”

Filed under: Realistic Fiction by Bri
No Comments »

Originally published on March 30, 2006

            Sharon sat down in the office chair across from the older woman. The nameplate on her desk read “S. Janine Smith.” She had dyed-red hair and brown eyes with still a trace of youth in her flawless face and freckles. Janine opened up a file on the computer that Sharon couldn’t see. Sharon wrung her hands nervously under the lip of the desk and looked out the window behind Janine’s chair. Seconds ticked by like years before Janine turned and smiled at Sharon.
            “So,” Janine said getting up to close the door. “What made you look for work here at the Secret Service Police Department?”
            “I’ve been searching for something different, something risky and new that I’ve never done before.”
            Janine sat down at her desk and looked Sharon in the eyes. “I’m going to start out with the usual speech: you know that this is not a typical job and is not to be taken lightly as child’s play. We work with life and death here and one mistake can mean the difference between your life and someone else’s. Perfection is a priority and we see it in the highest regard. If you are chosen for this job you may not even go out on the field for another couple months, if you’re lucky. Any questions?”
            Sharon shook her head and took a deep breath as Janine continued:
            “Based on your past employee record as a—stunt double?” she paused and looked up from the computer screen.
            “Yes,” Sharon said looking her employer in the eyes. “Fifteen years.”
            Janine shook her head and faced the computer screen again. “You seem more than qualified to take the job as a forward. According to your records you also went to Harvard’s law school and have quite a record in public speaking, which would qualify you for a defense.” She minimized the window on the screen and turned back to face Sharon. “I suppose the best thing is to give you a couple tests and see how well you do.”
            Sharon breathed a small sigh of relief and started to get up.
            “Not, yet. We need you to answer a couple of questions first. Though your eagerness to start is encouraging.” Janine pulled out a green form from the file cabinet in her desk and pulled out a pen from the upper drawer. “So, number one. How did you hear about us?”
            Sharon raised one eyebrow. “Everyone knows about the SSPD. But I know someone who works the tech; he just told me he hacks computers for a living and recommended that I should come here after I stopped getting movie contracts.”
            “Any criminal records?”
            “No.”
            “Health issues?”
            “Well, not to be rude or anything, but couldn’t you check my records?” Sharon said impatiently. Her knees were starting to shake and she had a feeling of needing to go pee she was trying to repress. She wanted nothing more to get the interview over with and leave the office.
            “That information is not allowed to us until you are an employee,” Janice said without even looking up from the form.
            “I’m deathly allergic to fish,” Sharon said quietly, glancing over the other woman’s head somewhat embarrassed.
            Janine glanced up from the paper to give Sharon a somewhat surprised look before glancing back down quickly.
            “Education?”
            “Masters in Law and Anatomy. I took some first aid courses around different community centers and worked alongside a friend of mine in an ambulance for three years.”
            Janine put the pen away and smiled at Sharon. “Well, you’ve had quite an interesting life.”
            Sharon smiled. “I’m glad you think so.”
            “Well, welcome aboard, Sharon. Fortunately, you seem to be overqualified for the job, so I’ll see you tomorrow for your first bit of training. Training will be more of a tour on how the company works, as you already know the basics on how to defend yourself, but I’m sure that will be good enough for you to get a feel on what we’re looking for from our employees. We’ll do a couple of tests to see what you can do and give you some more training from there.”
            Sharon shook Janine’s hand and left the office as quickly as she could without seeming hasty. Once outside the doors she stopped and took a large breath of air. Then she casually walked over to the nearest coffee shop.
            “I’ll take a espresso with an extra shot,” she said to the cashier and handed them a five, saying hurriedly, “keep the change.”
            She sat down at a table and looked out the window. You did it, Shar. Congrats! You got the job!  She thought, but her mind didn’t entirely comprehend what had just happened.
            “Ma’am?” a short seventeen-year-old boy handed her a paper cup full of steamy coffee before disappearing behind the counter again. She took the plastic top off the cup and inhaled deeply as she closed her eyes. Excitement would come later, as soon as the realization hit that she had gotten a job she was going to keep for the rest of her working life.

Filed under: Realistic Fiction, Science Fiction by Bri
No Comments »

Originally published on March 29, 2006

           Alice and John would spend hours coming up with adventures for the Pilsner family. The dolls were Alice’s and she would buy the small ones with her birthday money from Pilsner’s Doll Shoppe. Although John pretended just to play house with his little sister as an older brother’s obligation, he enjoyed it as much as she did and would dust the house whenever no one was there to watch him. They had come up with an entire epic on the tales of specific dolls in Alice’s collection. Mrs. Pilsner was a slender doll with golden hair and blue eyes. Alice would usually have her in a blue dress with flowers. She worked as a dance teacher (Alice’s contribution) several minutes from home and taught any dance from the Tango to the Waltz. Mr. Pilsner was a professor at the local college (John’s contribution) who would come home from work and spend time with his son and daughter. Then he would grade papers in his study before going to bed. He wore a gray suit and had brown hair with brown eyes and glasses. Megan Pilsner was eight years old with blond hair and brown eyes. She loved the color orange and flowers. Every day, she would go out in her orange dress and apron and pick some flowers after school and put them in a cup of water until they wilted. She would then throw out the old flowers and pick new ones. Samuel Pilsner was ten and had brown hair and blue eyes. He wore gray trousers and a blue shirt. Sam loved to read and was often found with his nose in a book by the creek down the road. Aunt Trish was a schoolteacher who would visit every summer, as she was unmarried and school was out then. She had red hair and green eyes with small freckles around her nose. She usually wore a red-striped dress with an apron. Then there was Todd, who really had no relation to the family at all. Alice wanted him to be in love with Aunt Trish, but John thought that was too stupid and pointless. Alice and John used to have fights over this, but soon they dropped it and just had Todd as a family friend. Although Alice had tried several times to get either Aunt Trish interested in Todd or visa versa, John would have no part in it and they would have to stop. Todd had black hair and gray eyes and would wear tan pants with a white button down shirt (this was Alice’s favorite outfit for the men, but she would never tell John that). Alice continued to buy more dolls for the family, until soon, the two had an entire town of people. They stopped adding members to the family and called their town Sempresummer. Occasionally, the Pilsner mansion would hold extravagant parties, when Alice would pull out her box of extra clothes and dress each and every doll in a new outfit. Then she would call John over and they would have a busy evening. 
           The Pilsner mansion was quite an extravagant house, despite its size. The kitchen had a porcelain sink, a family table in the middle of the room with a breadbox and cheese. An icebox sat in the corner next to a bright window with a window box filled with pansies and marigolds. The floor was a spotless white under matching chairs around the small table. The kitchen led to the dining room. The ceiling had a crystal chandelier over a large wood table. The seats were upholstered in velvet and they sat upon a dustless hard wood floor. The table was set with matching rose china and a candelabrum sat in the center of the table. The dining room had two doors: one led to the ballroom and the other to the parlor. The parlor had two couches and a large fireplace. Above the mantle was the family portrait and below that was a clock. The couches face the south wall and were a chocolate brown with a curtain trimming around the bottom to hide the legs. The floor was hardwood and polished. A wall of large windows was on the north wall and the curtains matched the color of the couches. There were more pictures along the remaining walls. There was a door in the far corner leading to the kitchen from the parlor as well. The ballroom was Alice’s favorite. It was the largest room in the house with large windows on the west wall, where the dancers could watch the sun set. The southern wall was also covered in windows and in the middle of the wall was a pair of glass doors leading to the garden. The walls were a light green and the curtains on the windows were sheer white with gold thread around the edges. Silk ribbons hung from the edges of the curtains so that the maids could pull them back and tie them with a bow. In the adjacent corner to the door was a piano and behind the piano on shelves were a violin, cello, and harp. The ceiling had pictures of angels dancing in a masquerade in some heavenly ball. The parlor also had a door next to the one leading to the kitchen that went to the library. The library was always John’s favorite. Although not very big, the library had bookshelves that reached the ceiling and a ladder that rolled on a track around the room. A table sat in the middle of the room with several chairs that were padded on the back and the seat. The east wall was covered in windows, “so that one had the best reading light in the morning,” John would say. A chandelier was in the middle above the table, “so that you can continue reading until it’s morning again.” The library had a small extra corner and was shaped like a large “L”. Next to the windows was a door leading to the hall. At the opposite end of the hall was a staircase leading to the bedrooms.
           The hall on the second floor had white walls and was shaped in a “T”. There were windows on the horizontal top of the “T,” facing east and smaller window at the bottom, facing west. There was light tan carpeting covering the hall. The first room on the left was the study. The study was a long room with a long window facing south and a small powder room in the corner. The walls were painted a bright blue and the carpeting was navy. The walls had a couple shelves with books on them, but mostly photographs of the family and newspaper clippings of interesting articles. There was a desk underneath the windows running the length of the wall with a typewriter and papers strewn all over the desk. Alice and John knew to leave them alone, lest Mr. Pilsner would get upset. The next room was the master bedroom. This room was also long and painted mauve. The carpet on the floor matched the walls and the basing around the floor was cherry. A large window covered in thick mauve curtains and matching valence was on the south wall. There was a chair in the corner of the room and a large king-size bed in the northeast corner. The west wall had a door, which lead into the master bathroom. The walls were mauve, but the sink, bathtub, and floor were a black marble. The windows on the south and west walls were frosted and had mauve curtains. On the right side of the hall, closest to the stairs were the two guest bedrooms. Both painted white with black bedspreads and black curtains. The powder rooms had white paint with black porcelain sink and toilet. Next to the guest bedrooms was the public bathroom. This was painted taupe with gold trimming and white porcelain bathtub, sink, and toilet. There were no windows in this bathroom, but a small light with frosted-glass covering was in the middle of the room. The final two bedrooms were children’s bedrooms: one painted apricot, the other periwinkle. There were windows in both on the south walls and the curtains matched the walls and carpeting.
           Years went by and Alice and John stopped playing in Sempresummer. Occasionally, when Alice had nothing else to do, she would pull out all the dolls and rearrange their daily lives. Eventually John moved out of the house and Alice was looking at the dollhouse for the last time before she left for college. She smiled and moved Todd and Aunt Trish into one the guest rooms where they could have a more private conversation and perhaps, if John didn’t intervene, fall in love.

Filed under: Realistic Fiction by Bri
No Comments »