Sunrise, or Lack Thereof

It's 5:39 AM. I haven't slept all night.

Not only haven't I slept, but I find myself in the curious position of sitting cross legged on the roof.

As the blanket of darkness begins to lift, the neighbor’s dogs spot me and their robber-sensors go haywire; but the strange thing is that only one voices his opinion about a mysterious shadowed figure climbing onto the roof at five in the morning.

Three roosters crow in what could only be coincidental succession.

I begin to see everything clearer and at first think that perhaps my eyes adjusted to the darkness surrounding me. But then, when I gaze back up at the cloud congested sky, I see that the cracks between them have grown lighter. From that moment on, the spaces between the clouds continue to lighten every second that passes by.

The dog continues make a fuss until Rosa wanders out to the back of her property to see why the hell her dog is barking so persistently. She finally sees me on the roof and her steps turn slow, I watch, staying still, as she pulls something from her pocket. I assume a cell phone and instantly throw up my hand in a friendly greeting. I sit up straighter; she realizes it's me and waves back.

The foothills begin to materialize all around, shaking the mist and fog free from their sands. The blatant odor of fish and salty beach begins to fade, melting away with the night. A faint light covers everything now, in preparation for the sun to arrive.

The constant hum of the Pan-American highway does not cease.

Birds chirrup from left and right, in front and behind, above and below. Some zip past, anxious to begin the day, while others stay safely tucked in their nests, uncertain of what the day will bring.

The orange street lamps begin turning off in a wave, street by street.

The hole in the clouds catches a few rays of morning sunlight, changing the faded blue to a light peach. I become sad once I realize that I won’t be able to see the sun climb over the mountains.

The air is still, but the morning chill still hangs there, motionless. The Peruvian flag does not twitch and the leaves of the trees do not rustle.

The last of the street lamps die out.

I can feel the fabric of my jacket absorbing the morning dampness.

I pick myself up with dirty hands and a dusty rear, my hope shattered and disappointment evident. I hop down off the roof of the patio and slip underneath it, jumping down onto a bucket, out of sight of everyone and everything but myself.

I slap my hands together to rid myself of the grime and murmur unheard apologies to Rosa.

That damn dog is still barking at me.

Grab What Matters Most & Don't Forget to Hold it Dear

“Okay,” she began, putting her hands palms out towards the floor. “If this house caught on fire and you only had a few seconds to think and grab for something near you, what would you take?” She looked at him and waited patiently for his answer. His eyebrow quirked and he glanced back at her. “If this house caught on fire…?” He echoed as if he hadn’t heard correctly.

“You’re silly, you know that?” He asked back at her. She put her hands on her hips in reply while simultaneously trying to keep a smile from giving away her amusement. He rolled his eyes playfully and turned to scan the room for objects that he might consider sprinting out of the burning building with. If that were to ever happen, of course.

He pondered, his eyes lingering for a period of time on each object before moving on to the next. “I dunno…if I had to risk a few seconds that could possibly cost me my life to grab something and run, I don’t really see anything here that’s that important to me…”

“C’mon hon, you can think of something. This is all for play anyway. You don’t have to try too hard. Think of something you love and couldn’t live without.” She prodded gently.

A bright, figurative light bulb binged on atop his head and he smiled at the sudden genius.

“Well, there is one thing that I’d risk my life for…” He spun around and swiftly pulled Violet off her feet and into his arms bridal style. Surprise graced her face, but only for a moment once she realized what had happened. “Oh no, honey, the house is burning down! Grab what you can and run!” He yelled while she giggled, looping her arms around his neck. He ran to the two doorways screaming in a whisper and saying, “Ahhhhh! This exit’s blocked! That exit’s blocked! Honey, honey what are we gonna do?”

She smiled up at him that smile that she gives when he’s being silly but it’s still entertaining to her all the same. “We’ll just be trapped in here. We’ll burn to death and die in each other’s arms.” She had taken on a melodramatic tone for effect. She even had the back of her hand on her forehead.

Walking over to the couch, he gently lay down and shifted her on top of him until she was laying her head on his chest. “In each other’s arms…” He repeated quietly, squeezing his own tight around her body. He looked deep into her eyes and smiled crookedly.

“That’s got to be the best way to die.”

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Some fun fluff for you. Yay for fluffy fluffiness~!

Until next time,
~Vicki

Three Seater

Three seats. Three strangers. Only two sit down.
There's always that instance on a public bus or trolley where there is a spot on a three seater bench open, but it's always in the middle because no one ever wants to sit next to a stranger. So, you, as you enter the bus, choose to stand instead. You'd much rather stand than sit next to some strange person you don't know. And the beautiful thing is, they can't make you sit down if you don't want to.

...and in this instance, a man just sat next to me, in the middle of the three seater.
Go figure.

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Written from the rightmost seat of a three seater bench on the trolley in UVA.

Much love,
~Viiiiiiiiiicki

Sunrising

"Samantha! Pssst...Sam!" Samantha sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. She glanced at the clock. "What the heck...who's here at 5:15 in the morning? It's still dark outside..." She grumbled sleepily, tossing her legs out of bed and meandering towards her bedroom door. "No Sam, over here." Three taps on the window spun her around and she found Lyric perched outside it. He waved and smiled.

She bumped the corner of her dresser on the way there but otherwise made it to the window without any other injuries. She shoved it open, the old cracked paint working against her. "Lyric, what are you doing here at this time of morning?" She whispered, nearly hissing as she motioned for him to hop through and into her room. He shook his head, that crooked smile still gracing his lips. "Come with me." His arms extended toward her. "Why now? Can't it wait?" He shook his head and twisted to look off into the distance. He was being utterly mysterious, she thought. "Please, come."
His hands beckoned.

Sam hesitated, debating and wondering simultaneously. She shifted her weight from foot to foot. Finally, when it looked like Lyric was getting anxious and possibly a bit nervous, she nodded her head. His smile reignited. "Let's go."

She went with him out onto the roof and he told her to be as quiet as possible. "Where are we going?" She asked, but he only shook his head and put a finger to his lips. "Later. Now hurry; time is of the essence." She almost couldn't take his mysteriousness and I'm-not-going-to-tell-you-anything attitude, but she let him lead her. She reasoned that he must have a motive for keeping silent about pretty much everything.

They slid down off the roof soundlessly, to Sam's delight. Lyric jumped on his motor bike and Sam wrapped her arms around his waist as she slipped on behind him. "Hold on tight." He grinned and revved the engine. With that, they were zooming down the street.

Sam saw that the night was just barely beginning to melt away when they reached the base of a small foothill. Her hair whipped wildly about her face and she continuously squinted her eyes against the rushing air. Lyric took a short road that twisted and wound up the hill, kicking up dust in his wake.

Lyric pulled off on a small, flat parking area that overlooked the city, silencing the purring bike. He turned to her with a twinkle in his eyes and his smile reflected it. "I want to show you something my Father made." Lyric grabbed her hand in his; it was still warm from the bike handle. He led her over to a plaid blanket beneath a giant tree; it's bowed branches gave it an old, weathered and wise appearance. If it could transform into a human, Sam decided, it would take the form of an old man, shoulders hunched and face owlish and twisted.

They lay down on the blanket, wiggling together on their stomachs until they were shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. "Had I known we were going this far I might’ve put something on a little more covering and public." Sam murmured, trying to pull down the long sleeves of her night shirt to cover her hands. Lyric sat up momentarily and slipped out of his jacket, draping it over her shoulders. She felt his heat radiate around her as well as his musky scent. She nuzzled her nose into the neck of the jacket and breathed in deeply. "Thank you." She pulled it tight around herself and gazed up at him.

"Oh, look." He breathed as he laid back down, pointing to the horizon. "What?" Sam asked, following the direction of his finger. "Watch." He grinned and stared at the undulating tops of the opposite foothills. Light was leaking over them, illuminating the dark sky in beautiful hues of blue, pink and orange.

In mere minutes, the sun popped out from behind the mountains and spread its beam everywhere across the sand and dirt like someone opening their arms for an embrace. Sam couldn't find any other words for it than "wow" and "so amazing." The hues continued to vary and gradient out from the rim of the sun, changing every few minutes. There were no clouds dotting the sky that morning and it made everything seem so much clearer.

"This is so beautiful. I've never watched a sunrise in my life, much less with someone I care a lot for." Sam beamed, showing teeth in her genuine smile. "But...your Father made this?" An eyebrow rose as she glanced over at him in obvious disbelief. His grin never faltered.

"Yeah, God made this."

Make-up

I don't like makeup. When someone puts it on, it's like they're trying to fix something that's wrong with them. It's like saying "God, I'm not exactly happy with the way you made my face, so I'm going to make it ‘better.’" I don't care about the reasons that people come up with; "I'm enhancing my eyes...I'm putting some color in my face...I'm taking the focus off my nose..." Makeup is a disgrace. Do you not realize you're putting on a mask of man-made, synthetic gunk to disfigure the face God gave you? I don't understand the motives and the justifications behind this.

Makeup does not fix anything.

You claim "it makes me prettier." Prettier? Now you're comparing yourself with other girls and judging your facial structure next to theirs.

Now you're looking at yourself in the mirror. Now you're not good enough. Now you're not pretty enough. Now you're not thin enough.
Now you're caught in the trap of vanity and lies.

Stop! For God's sake...for your sake, stop!

Look at your face. Its curves and lines and colors are all unique. How can you even begin to compare yourself to the faces of other women when your faces aren't even remotely the same? You can't.

You are beautiful. Look into the eyes reflected in that mirror and say "I am beautiful." Why? Because you are! Stop lying to yourself and stop putting yourself down. It will only make you feel more miserable and unsatisfied with life.
So what if you don't have small thighs and a skinny waist, so what if you don't have "full" chest and tan skin. No one in their right mind cares about that more than the person you are, the personality that you have. Wake up and start telling yourself the truth!

No one deserves to be miserable. No one deserves to feel bad about their image.

Tell yourself that you are beautiful. Every chance you get, tell your friends that they are beautiful. Tell anyone anytime you get the chance with a smile. Help them realize the truth.

You are beautiful.

I live in a place...

I live in a place where summer meant Christmas time, where Christmas day is spent playing in the waves and soaking up the sun while sand gets stuck in places it shouldn’t ever be in. I live in a place where rain floats down from the sky like snow and is never in large quantities. I live in a place where it is perfectly normal to see 7 year old girls holding and taking care of their baby brothers and sisters while their Momma is out working. I live in a place where they speak a language I don’t completely understand. I live in a place where I have foothills bordering on mountains in my backyard. I live in a place where if you step outside in flip-flops and stray from the sidewalk, your toes would be buried in sand. I live in the place where it is a rare sight to see a tree taller than me.

I live in a place where close friends are few and acquaintances are plenty. I live in a place where poverty has an iron hold, where the line between rich and poor is extremely distinct. I live in a place where squatting on abandoned property and saying you live in a mat hut the size of a small shed isn’t unusual.

I live in a place where belching is considered downright rude. I live in a place where the darker skinned you are, the more mean looks you get. I live in a place where when I go into the streets or cities, wolf-whistles and curious looks are all I receive from the locals. I live in a place where white people are glorified and all are considered rich. I live in a place where air conditioning and heating are nearly unheard of and only used in large buildings like grocery stores. I live in a place where the government is corrupt. I live in a place where children run around barefoot, in danger of stepping on broken glass and nails because their family can't afford shoes. I live in a place where dogs are not pets, but guards, and are beat and starved. I live in a place where seeing a cat is practically good luck.

I live in Peru.

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Hope you liked. It's a bit rough yet, but it's a glimpse into what I experience down here.

~Vicki

Lack of Posts.

Yeah, sorry.
Busy.

Although I'll give you something to chew on. It's my writing, but the idea is NOT mine. I just chose the scene of a movie and wrote what happened as a prompt idea that I had. Take a 5-10 minute scene (could be more or less; it's a matter of preference) from a favorite movie that you can readily pause and play, since you'll be doing a LOT of that. Write out the scene using as many details as you can without being over-descriptive and dragging the scene out. The only rules are keep the dialogue intact and don't fudge things too much. Try to get everything into the writing. This is a good thing to do when you've got writer's block and can't think of an idea. Get your artistic juices flowing by drawing from someone else's idea. Or you can do it for fun. I thought it was fun.
Anyway, here it is.
One of my favorite scenes from "Inception."
Enjoi.

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Pristine white rose in hand, Don made his way down the carpeted hallway of the hotel, reading the card he wrote attached to the long-stemmed flower. Slipping the keycard into the door of their suite, he opened it with a whoosh and immediately halted his steps.

The room was trashed.

His eyes scanned all around; lamps shoved to the ground with broken light bulbs scattered on the floor, chairs toppled and torn cushions lay on the off-white carpet like it was a battlefield. He slowly closed the door and realized that the only thing he didn’t see was Mal.

Striding forward slowly, he became wary. His eyes darted around shortly before he heard a snap from underfoot. Glancing downwards, he found that he had stepped right on the neck of a slim wine glass. What he saw next, however, made his heart beat faster.

Mal’s top was on the carpet right next to the glass.

He bent down and picked it up, examining it before slipping it into his pocket and walking forward again. The window was open as far as it would go, looking like monstrous jaws instead of a thing made of wood and glass. The white curtains billowed in the air swirling through it.

He stepped closer, almost afraid of what he’d find.

He leaned down to get a better look outside as he put his hand on the sill. He found Mal sitting on the window ledge of the room parallel to the one he was standing in. She was facing the street.

She had been expecting him.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” He asked, showing no fear in his voice; merely curiosity. “Join me.” Mal replied sweetly. “Just…just step back inside, alright? Just step back inside. Now come on.” His left arm began making a movement akin to the “come here” and “inside” gesticulations.

“No.” Defiance was clear in her tone. “I’m going to jump and you’re coming with me.” It wasn’t a request; it was an order.

“No I'm not. N-now you listen to me: if you jump, you're not gonna wake up, remember? You're gonna die. Now just- just step back inside. Come on; step back inside so we can talk about this.” The level of fear was building rapidly in his heart. She was beginning to terrify him. She was serious.

“We’ve talked enough.” She pointed her foot over the street and let her tall high-heel slip off and plummet to the zooming cars below. He watched it fall, registering how incredibly set on this she was before pinning his eyes to her. “Mal-”

“Come out onto the ledge or I’ll jump right now.”

“Okay.” He said, his eyebrows rising, attempting to stay calm and keep her from jumping. He kept his eyes glued to her as he hoisted himself up to the sill and over the edge until he was sitting as a mirror image of Mal.

“We’re gonna talk about this…right?”

She ignored him. “I’m asking you to take a leap of faith.”

His brows furrowed and arched upwards. “No, honey.” He shook his head slowly. “No, I can't. You know I can't do that.” He continued to watch closely. “Take a second and think about our children. Think about James. Think about Phillipa now.”

She continued to ignore him as if he hadn’t said a word. “If I go without you they’ll take them away anyway."

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion now. “What does that mean?”

She looked him dead in the eye. “I filed a letter with our attorney explaining how I’m fearful for my safety…” His heart beat faster and a sick feeling twisted a tight knot in his gut. His head snapped around to glance at the door to the suite. Mal continued. “How you threatened to kill me.”

He slowly turned his head back around, an expression of confusion and disbelief taking over his features. “Why did you do this?” He begged her.

Yet again, she evaded his question. “I love you, Don.”

“Why did you- Why- Why would you do this to me-?” He started to get frantic.

“I’ll free you from the guilt of choosing to leave them. We’re going home, to our real children!” She insisted, so firm on this lie that he began to think he wouldn’t be able to stop her from pursuing it.

“No no no no, Mal, you listen to me, alright. Mal! Look at me! Please-” She had closed her eyes, clearly ignoring what he was saying.

“You’re waiting for a train…”

“Mal! Goddamnit don’t do this!”

“A train that will take you far away…”

“James and Phillipa are waiting for us-!”

“You know where you hope this train will take you…”

“They’re waiting for us!”

“You can't know for sure.”

“Mal! Look at me!”

“But it doesn’t matter…”

“Mal, Godamnit!”

“Because you’ll be together.”

“Mal, listen to me! Sweetheart!”

She gently pushed herself up to her feet.

“Look at me!”

With her eyes still closed, she stepped over the edge.

“Mal, no! Jesus Christ!” His voice broke as he death-gripped the window frame.

Mal was gone.