Paradise

This exercise required that I write about a series of arrivals at different places-with no other explanation of how I got there.

Paradise

My breath caught as we came upon the island. It was all luscious greenery, pure white beaches, and crystal clear water. The scene looked like it belonged on a postcard or a movie set. A rainbow even stretched from one end of the island to the other. I knew I should find it hokey and cliché. In reality, the paradise inspired awe in me and it would be my homed, at least for a few days.

Natives crowded the length of the dock. I learned that I had arrived on a national holiday. I overheard one man as he complained about the absurdity of celebrating the birthday of a monarch, who lived on the other side of the Earth. I had figured he would be happy to have a day without work but he wanted independence instead of a vacation. I could respect his sentiments.

I stopped on the dock and watched the sunset with the natives. Then we waited for wild dolphins to approach. They came to this beach every night. I paid for the privilege of feeding one. The researcher gave me one fish and explained that the dolphins could touch me but under no circumstance was I allowed to touch a dolphin. Up-close, the dolphin was not that special. Nothing I imagined. The dolphin ate my fish and I walked away feeling under whelmed.

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It seemed like I stood on top of the world or at least on a step that lead to the top of the world. I looked down into the deep crater beside me. I watched the group descending its step sides until they became ants and I wondered how they would ever make it back out. On the other side of me were more mountain tops. Clouds filled the space between this mountain and the others. Someone near began to sing a hymn and I understood why the native tribes considered the mountains sacred.

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The outside of the marea intimidated me. Red angry faces covered the wings of the rooftop. Still, my hosts had invited me inside so I bolstered my courage and walked through the door. More angry pagan faces were carved into the walls but what surprised me were the cross and the portrait of the Virgin Mary that hung from the central post. It made me realize that the past cohabitated with the present in this sacred building.

My hosts waited for me at the front of the room. I greeted them according to their custom by bumping my nose against theirs twice. This intruded on all my perceptions of personal space but not participating in such a greeting would have insulted my hosts.

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I walked along the cobbled street that led me from one city square to the next. Occasionally, a horse and carriage passed me. As I stared up at the historical homes bordering the street, I felt like I had gone back in time. There was no separation of past and present in this city.

I rested in one of the squares and took in the wonder of it all. Spanish moss hung from the ancient oaks. A statue loomed in the center of the square. In a city like this, every branch and stone whispers their stories to anyone who knows how to hear them. I closed my eyes and I listened.

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I walked down the streets of another city. This one was all concrete and asphalt and very much in the present. The bright neon lights chased away the darkness until I all but forgot it was night. The crowded busy streets left me feeling alone and homesick. I needed something green and natural to sustain me.

Then I stumbled upon the park. There was so much wild greenery here that I got lost in it. I did not mind losing my way. As long as I was with nature, I would survive.

Black Mud

This story comes with a soundtrack. The exercise required that I listened to a piece of instrumental music over and over again until a narrative formed in my mind. I chose Black Mud by the Black Keys, which I have included, and this is what developed from the music. Please, let me know what you think.




Black Mud

It seemed to take an eternity for my driver to bring the car around. I had spent the past three hours forcing myself to stay composed before the ladies in our country club and now my nerves were almost at their breaking point. These elite events always strained me. Between closely guarding all my actions to avoid making a slip in decorum and my mother-in-law, Barbara, criticizing every little thing I did, I always returned home with a headache. Today brought the extra stress of being stuck in a room with my husband’s lover.

Her name was Georgiana Worthington. She exemplified Barbara’s ideal woman and everything I had spent the past ten years trying to be. She was tall, blond, thin, genteel, and charming. She was bred to be the perfect wife for a power man and her husband was quite powerful and influential. As any perfect wife would, she hosted today’s luncheon to gain support for her husband’s cause. I wondered if that is why she slept with my husband. Had the plan been to woo the ladies with food and woo the gentlemen with sex? No, I could not see her husband agreeing to that idea.

Finally, I was alerted that my car waited for me but I could not make my escape that easily. Since she hosted the event, I had to speak to Georgiana before I left. Barbara spoke to her first. I watched Georgiana closely. Neither she nor my husband knew I had uncovered their dirty little secret. I had not made up my mind how I wanted to confront them. Right now, I only wanted to see if Georgiana would show any sign of feeling guilty. I should have known she was too perfect to give herself away. When she turned to me, all she did was make some comment about how lovely it always was to see me and she thanked me for my support.

I walked out of the room, amazed at Georgiana’s audacity. She truly thought she would never be caught. I was still reeling from her behavior, when Barbara said something that sealed everyone’s fate. “You know I had always hoped that my Thomas would marry Georgiana but then he brought you home . . .”

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I was late but then that was all part of the plan. Thomas waited for me inside his ancestral home, where the elite of the elite had gathered for one of Barbara’s legendary dinner parties. The second I walked through the door, I heard a gasp. I let myself smirk. One perk of doing everything necessary to achieve perfection was that I still fit into the skintight low rise jeans and tiny halter top that I had worn the first time Thomas and I met. I kept walking through the house without bothering to take in all the shocked faces around me. The tapping of my scarlet hooker heels alerted everyone to my presence and anyone I passed got an eyeful of the word “Wicked” stamped across my lower back. I had hid that tattoo for years but now I wanted everyone to see it.

I found my husband in the library with his parents and several other guests. They were all too stunned to speak. I grabbed a drink right out of a guest’s hands, while giving him a flirty grin. Then I winked seductively at Senator Schumer as I passed him.

“What do you think you are doing?” Thomas gritted out as he grabbed my elbow.

“You don’t touch me!” I shouted and then punched him in the jaw.

Thomas and I stared each other down as my father-in-law ushered all the guests out of the room. “I want a divorce,” I demanded.

“Well, thank God,” Barbara chimed in, “You will get you divorce but you are mistaken if you think I am going to let you walk away with anything belonging to the family.”

“Unless Thomas would like me to explain to Mr. Worthington that he has been sleeping with his wife, I will get whatever I want.”

“What do you want?” Thomas surrendered.

“Your balls in a jar.” Barbara hit the floor in a dead faint.