Past
The blu tack was old, yellow and causing the photo to peel off the wall; a subtle sign attention was not being paid to the upkeep of her room. Why she felt it necessary to have photos of old friends and lovers on the wall is anyone’s guess, her car had not been driven for a month. She lay on the bed day after day, twisting and turning with guilt. It was the end of the tunnel, but it wasn’t a positive one. There was no light, only darkness. How had she become a recluse; a nobody? She had made a deal with the devil, so to speak, and it had backfired like they all do. Standing up onto the cold floor, she felt around in the darkness for her glasses. Now she could see, she followed the white arrows painted onto the old wooden floorboards, leading out into the kitchen.
The kitchen was a mess; a storm had hit and caused destruction. Plates were broken and lay on the ground defeated; cups were glued onto the ceiling in defiance. Fruit splatters covered the hot plate; tomato sauce was still drizzling down the fridge door. She looked around with empty eyes, sighing as she grabbed a cloth and began wiping down the fruit splatters and tomato sauce. Her hair tangled with sauce, blonde strands turning deep red. An engine could be heard in the distance, coming up the steep driveway to the house. She threw the cloth into the sink and dove
onto the lounge, pretending to read a book.
The front door slammed shut, angry and loud. Footsteps in the hallway signalled his return. She shivered once, twice, as the temperature in the room dropped. His dishevelled hair and torn jacket appeared, his wild black eyes set in his head like bullets. He gave a quick nod towards the sink, knowing she was staring like a stunned deer at his red hands. “Why would you even try?” his voice was silky smooth, but she knew better to trust it. She threw a quick glance at the wall clock, it was time again. “I was trying to help, is that such a crime?” her eyes stared back at his with fierce regret. No, she shouldn’t have said that.
He walked slowly towards where she was sitting on the lounge, backed up against the wall. His snake skin boots clicking on the floor as he went. He pulled out a photograph from his pocket, the image already fading. He shoved it close to her eyes, forcing her to look. “THIS is NOT helping. Look what you’ve done!” she took the photo in her shaking hands, realisation spreading across her face. “NO! You said this wouldn’t happen! You lied! Why would you do that?” She threw the photo in the air and started ripping a cushion in half, he caught the photo, his hands still red. His eyes were a black hole, glowing with anger “I told you one thousand times! Do not wipe away the past, or you wipe away your future! I can’t help you if you continue to disobey me. I had to act
quickly, this was the result.” He ran out of the room at full speed, his form becoming nothing but a whisper. She picked up the photograph once more, staring at the completely faded image which had held the one word she needed to move ahead: memory.
Ideas and comments are welcome. On a completely different note, I would like to know where certain companies get the nerves to harrass my workplace and home. No, I will not put you through, why not? I don't want too, that's why. One lady the other day even tried to pretend she was my boss. That's right, I forgot she was in control of workplaces other than her own. She told me three times to call my boss "straight after this phonecall, on his mobile please" because I obviously didn't understand it the first two times. I'm sorry, what was that? You want me to call him, oh really do you now? No, I will not (just for the record, my boss is also my Father.) I will not tell him because they continue to call at 8.30pm every day at home as well. Facts for a telemarketer:
1. People may be trying to sleep and don't appreciate being woken up by a ringing phone
2. TV is more important than you
3. Watching a DVD is more interesting than you
4. Watching my dog learn to SIT is more fun than listening to you everyday winge about being from *insert name*
5. I know for a fact that the people you want to talk to know you're trying to call because you're HARRASSING them.
Ok, I have that out of my system now. I'm sure it makes me look like a winging psycho myself, but I assure you I'm actually a lovely person (I promise.) Don't try and pretend you are not thinking the same regarding telemarketers.
On a less serious note, I have been thinking about wedding shoes. I am thinking about not wearing any. But then I really wanted my shoes to be Jimmy Choos or Louboutin's. The fact that I can't even walk properly in 2cm heels is beside the point. The point is: Jimmy Choo. Louboutin. I think I have said enough. Don't try and ignore the fact that these two designers make beautiful shoes; I cannot get the same shoes from a factory outlet so don't try and convince me.
Exhibit A: Jimmy Choo
Exhibit B: Christian Louboutin
Which ones do you like more? (I obviously am not opting for either to wear with said wedding dress, don't worry.) Never mind that those shoes are over $1000 AUD each. Adding them to the wish list, tell me if you ever purchase some, I will gladly shoe-nap them from you.
For anyone else planning a wedding out there and thinking about wedding favors, I have found the perfect treat for your guests: Gourmet wedding brownies! What the hell are they, you ask? See the photo and link below.
$44.50 USD for one dozen @ http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=42442227Yum! Imagine your guests stuffing their faces with these-priceless!
This entry has ended up being an interesting mix of story telling and wedding planning but it just happened that way. I don't know why, but the formatting of this blog is weird, the preview comes out completely different to what it looks like when I'm writing it. I'm still trying to navigate around it, so forgive me if it looks stupid; I'm not too sure how to fix it.
Jess
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