Semi-Daily Scribbles

Change was on its way, and Lori needed to pack her bags. She laughed at her meager choices as she rifled through drawers. Packing would take all of five minutes, so she tiptoed across the hall and opened the door to Lynne's room. Big sis had a job, which meant she had a few extra items of a wearable nature that wouldn't be missed when life, as Lori understood it, came to an end. She'd gladly replace any nicked pieces of apparel, provided she made it past the first wave. But then there was that thing about being unemployed Lori'd have to deal with, eventually. She flicked on the overhead light, its harsh arc washed out the pigment of Lori's spray on tan, and reached deep into Lynne's closet. She pulled out a sleeveless dress. It was in a Kleen & Steam Dry Cleaners bag. Lori never understood why you'd buy something you couldn't wash at home. She held up the hanger and shook her head. The dress was the color of melted Velveeta. Lori knew her chance of survival on the run would be greatly diminished if she went about looking like a grilled cheese sandwich. She hung the dress back up, turned off the light, closed the door behind her, and tiptoed down the hall to Petey's room.

The sidewalk was overrun with umbrellas, though the cement was dry and sticky. The people who popped open the umbrellas were tired and sticky. A gaggle of clouds, grey-blue and bloated, took their time as they pushed all sweaty across the sky. Lidia sat on a bench at the bus stop, hand wrapped around her umbrella, head turned in profile. She alternated her focus from the street corner, to the sidewalk, to the overly-ripe sky. She studied a cloud cluster separated from the main parade, the outline of which changed every few seconds, but the overall formation resembled a foul-tempered baby. Chubby cheeks and puffy lips crawled past Lidia in a silent wail. Then, water burst from the cranky baby's eyes, and the umbrellas repelled fat drops in welcome syncopation. Lidia returned her gaze to the street, then the sidewalk dark with moisture. Her hand firmly encircled the folded umbrella as she let baby's tears fall freely on her weary shoulders.

NesQuik Strawberry Drink Mix, 400 grams. Red wine. Blood. It was a steady progression from one preference to the next. Megan craved, simple as that, and it didn't much matter how innocent that first hit was. As long as her poison was sweet, the dark days were carried away on waves of chemically-induced contentment. The trickle of light that snuck into the nether corners of Megan's head freed her up to concentrate on important matters, like the observance of ritual and advanced knife skills. The damage was done; residue wiped clean with elbow grease and bleach.

A raggedy clump of dog-roses were piled on the kitchen table in need of a healthy clip and trim. The thorny climbers grew tall and hardy amongst the hedgerows in the quiet, misty corner of the world Regina Canton called home. The five baby-toe-pink petals of the Rosa Canina delighted Regina, giving her the impression the rest of the infant was tucked away somewhere in the blue-green foliage. The flowers' barely-there sweetness often wafted through the house, even in the dead of winter, which made Regina miss her favorite rose even more. This particular day, however, was very special indeed. Regina didn't have many people come all the way to the end of the lane where her cottage abutted a great, dark forest, but a young lady would be coming around at 4:00 to discuss a situation for which Regina needed to fill. The last person who held the position turned out unable to keep confidences. Discretion was of the utmost importance to Regina Canton. She laid out her best lace linens and got out the good tea service. She planned a nice tisane that required the clump waiting on the table. Regina washed, then separated, the velvety petals from the rest of the rose, and hoped for the desired effect to set in quickly once the ladies had taken their tea.

Fourth place taught Beulah a lesson. She'd always been top of the heap. No crafter came close to Beulah's attention to detail and sense of whimsy. Her favorite season was all of them. Each and every day was a holiday in Beulah's book. Her recent lowly showing at the county fair, however, brought home something a lot more contemplative than another First Place ribbon. What Beulah learned was her tricks and notions were all used up. She hadn't been innovative, let alone terribly original, in a long, long time. Laurels made for a really comfortable cushion. Once you'd collected enough of them, as Beulah had over the years, was there any reason at all to mess with a crowd-pleasing recipe? Actually, no. This realization was what got Beulah to ask herself the hard question:

Why am I in the game?

Beulah didn't have an answer, but did get a surge of energy to clean her work space. Craft supplies were inventoried, and Beulah's favorite tools were bagged up and set aside. The uncomfortable thought came to her as she got her room in order. Along with laurels, Beulah picked up quite a few crutches along the way. Her dependency on following the path of the tried and true blinded her from seeing with her gut instead of her head. Beulah hauled out a few of her prize winning creations, and felt nothing as she poked holes in a canvas of painted daisies, yanked red threads out of a crazy quilt, smashed an ashtray and reduced it to jagged, cobalt blue shards.

Gary's lineman-sized body, which he didn't do a whole hell of a lot to keep in shape, would not fit through the window for very long. His goal was folding in on itself, and the moment Gary'd carved out of leftover dreams, and good old-fashioned detective work, was quickly slipping into the narrow band of time reserved for last chances. Gary had watched many an opportunity skitter off into the night. He would then be left with a hole in his heart and huge gaps in his memory. But this was the last stand. Gary found the right combination of sweat and tears to rewrite history, and refused to waste a minute second-guessing his diagrams. The cloud containing all his missing activity would be in position over his house very soon. All Gary had to do to see his story to the end was take a running leap out the casement. He was more than confident his careful planning would take care of the rest.