Fall

This is NOT an assignment. This is only a story that I recently wrote and would like some feed back on.

Thanks!

Chapter 1:Fall

In the beginning, there was a set of quadruplets. Identical. In birth weight, size, color, all the way down to the shapes of their heads. As they each appeared into the world, they were laid side by side on a cold metal tray, covered in their mothers entrails, and blinded by an intense light.

They ripped their mother from the inside out. Bones cracked and shifted as dark crimson swam down the sterile white sheets of the hospital bed. Her breath waxing and waning as the nurse dabbed her sweaty forehead.

“You did wonderfully.” said the nurse, “Would you like to see them?”

She did not.  The mother’s dark eyes wandered to a large window to her left. The pale, gray, light made her skin a sick white, and made her black hair even darker. Outside of her hospital window, in the distance sat a large ebony oak tree shrouded in morning fog. One tiny, orange leaf clung to branch while the violent wind made it sway to and fro.

A sudden cry broke the mother’s concentration. The quadruplets were alive. So alive. It made her sick. The doctor began emergency surgery on the mother. She was losing too much blood. The nurse ran to wrap the quadruplets in their respective blankets and whisk them all away. The wind began screaming against the windows as the mother’s heart rate monitor began to beep faster. The doctor pulled down his white surgical mask and looked gravely at the nurse.

“We need to take her downstairs.” He said.

The mother began to shiver. The leaf seemed to be getting further by the second and hanging on to the tree with all of it’s might. A tear slid from the mother’s eye. Through her pale, dry lips she mustered a breath.

“I don’t want to go.”

“Oh honey, it will be all right,” said the nurse. “It’s not so bad.”

The nurse began to snap the levers on the bottom of the bed to allow the wheels to move. The mother looked out at the tree as her bed was being pushed toward the door. The leaf tore from the tree and became lost in the fog. Her eyes gently shut and her body passed through the door. Her left arm slipped from the bed, tearing from the IV and dripping clear liquid in small puddles along the hallway.

A small cry began to echo in the dim hallway. Then another. And another. And, then, another. It was a crescendo of pain and the longing for love.The quadruplets did not have a name. They did not have a father. And they did not have a mother.

The Road

"Watch the road."
"I know what I'm doing."
"Joe watch the road!"

Joe looks up from the map and slams on the breaks as he comes to a stop at a busy intersection. A woman is crossing the intersection with a baby in a stroller and stops in mid-stride.

"Joe! You almost hit her!"
"But I didn't."
"But you-"
"I know what I did Luna!"
"You don't have to get defensive!"
"I wouldn't be so defensive if you weren't constantly nagging me!"
"I wouldn't have to nag if you would just give me the map!"

Joe crumples the map and throws it in Luna's lap.

"Oh that's mature!"
"Just take the damn map and shut up!"

After an hour of frigid silence goes by. The only thing moving in the car was the small dalmatian bobble head on the dashboard of their compact, blue, smart car. Luna looks out of the car window as they are trailing through the blazing red desert. The afternoon sun begins to lower making a dark outline of Joe's body as Luna finally decides to look at him.

"You hungry?"
"A little."
"I packed some sandwiches in the back if you want one."
"Sure."

Luna hands Joe a wrapped sandwich. Joe bites the plastic off the top spits it out in the car and takes a large bite.

"Joe.."
"I'll clean it up."

Luna leans her elbow against the window and gently rests her head on her fist as she sighs.

"What now?"
"Nothing."
"Your sighing."
"I can't sigh?"
"Other people can. But you can't just sigh."
"Okay Joe, what do you think my problem is?"
"I don't know. I figured that's why we are paying this lady two hundred and fifty dollars to tell me your problem."
"Don't act like it's just me. You have faults too."
"Oh I know. Boy do I know. You remind me every chance you get. It's just that every time I find fault with you, I'm wrong."
"We are going to Madam Reyes to help us fix our relationship. She's good at helping people find spiritual balance. You don't feel that we are out of tune with each other? Like we're vibrating on two different planes?"
"Nope."

The couple pull up to a tiny, dark, wooden shack. There are colorful wind chimes blowing as they hang from the roof of the shack. The couple get out of the car and walk to the front door. Luna pushes a lock of blonde hair behind her ear as she raps lightly on the door.

"Comiiiing."

As tiny old woman draped in colorful scarves opens the door and signals for the two to come in.

"Come in! Come in! Please sit. I don't have chairs but pick a pillow around the table and sit by the fire. I like to think this is more cosy than a conventional home."

Joe looks around the house puzzled. "Uh-huh."
Luna slightly nudges Joe in the ribs.
"Ouch."
The old woman ignores this.

"Would you like some tea?"
Luna speaks up. "Oh no ma'am, we're fine."
Joe raises a finger in objection. "I'll take whatever ya got."
"Lovely."

The old woman races off to the kitchen. Luna's fierce blue eyes immediately tear into Joe.

"What?"
"Why are you taking the woman's tea? You don't need any!"
"For two hundred and fifty dollars I better get tea and a full course meal."
"Which you will in due time."
The couple jump as the old woman silently returns with the tea tray and sets it on the table.

"I'm sorry Miss..."
The old woman holds a hand up to stop Luna. "No need to apologize. My fees are high but I believe it is worth every penny."
She sits in the on the ground with the couple. The old woman looks curiously at their faces.

"You are a very attractive couple."
"Thank you." said Joe
"Yes...yes. So very nice you are. Do you have children?"
"No ma'am. We have, uh, fertility issues." said Luna
"No, my sperm just finds your eggs too hostile."
"Joe!"
The old woman laughs.
"I can tell you love each other."
The couple look at each other incredulously.
"You do. And you will love each other more, the longer you stay. Come with me."

The old woman takes the couple into a large dark basement. She locks the door behind them. Luna stops.
"Oh, that's for...the air. It gets quite chilly down here."
Joe begins to stumble in his place.
"Are you okay my dear?"
"Fine. It was a long drive."
"Yes...of course. Why don't you sit."

The old woman leads the couple into a very sterile looking white room. There are metal trays on the counter, culture dishes, and a microscope lying out. The old woman pulls out a metal chair for Joe to sit on. Joe immediately collapses. Luna panics.
"Oh my goodness, Joe!"
The old woman then hits Luna over the head with a blunt object from the back.

As the couple wake up they are strapped down on two separate rollaway beds. Luna moves, but her back is in pain. She feels heavier and more tired. Joe tries to move his legs. But his knees feel a shooting pain.

"Well good morning sunshines."

It sounds like Luna's voice. But it isn't Luna. The old woman flips on a dim florescent light in the room.  As the lights come on Luna is standing by the light switch. Only it isn't Luna.

"What do you think?"
Luna/not luna spins around like a little girl putting on a show.

"What the?!"
Luna on the bed begins to panic. Her body is standing at the door. But she cannot figure out why she is still on the bed.

"Oh you want to see your makeover?"
The old woman grabs a mirror from behind her back. She puts it in front of Luna's face. Luna is old, wrinkled, and dry. A pair of beady, dark eyesLuna is the old woman. The old woman put the mirror up to Joe. Joe is a short, old, balding man with liver spots on his head. Luna has no energy to scream.

"Youth really is wasted on the young. You all never really appreciate your vitality, or each other. You waste so much time."
"What did you do to us?!" cried Joe
"Well, you all didn't care about each other so I decided to put your bodies to good use. I am now your wife, and you my dear have rejuvenated my late husband Paul."
Paul walks in with Joe's body.
Luna screams in horror as the lights go off.

Kyra's Revenge Updated

Kyra and Sanjay are in a tiny, dark, bedroom. The only light is coming from the vanity mirror as Kyra's gorgeous face is illuminated while she puts on bright red lipstick. Sanjay begins to awaken on the king sized mattress directly behind her. 

Kyra: Oh good! You're awake.

Kyra neatly closes her lipstick, wipes the corner of her mouth with a tissue, and then sits at the foot of the bed.

Kyra: I need to talk to you about something.

Sanjay begins to pull at the chains.

Kyra: It's no use trying to get away. I had Joseph-you remember Joseph? The guy from the gas station in Oaktown? He's so handy with all of the little knick knacks I need fixed around here. He can do anything for the right price. No questions asked. That guy is brilliant I tell ya...

Sanjay ignores Kyra and starts rattling the chains even harder.

Kyra: Uh, Sanjay, stop distracting me. If you want to be difficult about this I can just make it harder on you.

Kyra winds a handle on the side of the bed. The chains become so taught that Sanjay is in the spread eagle position, unable to move. Sanjay screams in pain.

Kyra: See now, that's better. I know how you men tend to let your pride get in the way when it comes to listening to anyone with a pair of boobs, so I just decided that this might be a little easier. Men like to make things so much tougher than they actually are. Am I right?

Kyra laughs at her own words. Sanjay looks at her with fear in his eyes.

Kyra: Oh now don't look at me that way. You can't possibly afraid of me? Or is it that you just think I'm crazy? If you are feeling the former, I applaud you, but if it's the latter, you have no idea...

Sanjay:

If once I did wrong, I apologize

If I destroyed you, I apologize

If I-

Kyra: You did, so shut up.

Sanjay:

In the interior of my mind I did not know

The ways in which I would hurt you so

The dreams you had, which are now let go

Kyra slides a suitcase out from under the bed. She opens it, puts on a pair of latex gloves, and begins filling a few syringe's with different liquids.

Kyra:  It's so easy to forget that people matter to other people. Forget that maybe, just maybe they don't quite deserve your cruelty? But that's kind of hard when every fiber of your being is burning with rage isn't it?

Sanjay: (takes a deep breath)

Your cruelty to me is well deserved

Vengence for your family preserved

Your hands wield the weapons of justice

But in your heart, if it is true

Do you not have feelings of kindness

That were not given to you?

Kyra: No. I don't.

Kyra ties Sanjay's upper arm with a scarf to find a nice vein in his arm, Sanjay wiggles his hands in protest. She injects the first dosage of liquid. Sanjay's eyes fill with tears.

Kyra: I'm sure you're sorry now aren't you?

Sanjay nods yes. She injects the second dosage.

Kyra: It's okay. It will be all over soon... You know I often wonder about my parents. What it would have been like if you didn't make my father get down on his knees in his own bedroom and blow a deep black hole through his skull.

Kyra injects the third dosage.

Kyra: I also wonder about my mom. It would have been easy to let her go, maybe have a little sympathy seeing as she was pregnant with my baby brother. She was a sweet woman. People often tell me that I resemble her, minus the gunshot wounds in my belly of course. I wonder if she would be proud of me.

Sanjay:

My wrongs I have paid for in every way

Your feelings I cannot sway

My heart it cannot pray

For my silence is my repentance

I do not deserve joy

But my life has been over since I was a boy

Kyra injects the last dosage. Sanjay slows in movement.  He takes large slow breaths. His eyes are getting heavy. Kyra packs up her suitcase and closes the latch.

Kyra: Let's get something straight: I do not care about you, and I never will. But seeing as how you are still conscious I will show you a bit of kindness and let you know what is happening to you. The drugs I have just administered to you come from the black market in Costa Rica. The first dosage is going to highten your senses, so everything you hear, see, and feel will be magnified. The second dosage slows muscle movement. The third dosage slows your heart and doesn't allow blood to pump through your veins and arteries, and the very last dosage should go right to  your sacrum and blow your spine apart from the inside out. 

Sanjay begins to contract his face in pain. 

Kyra: Be patient grasshopper, it is coming soon enough.

Kyra kisses Sanjay on the cheek, and walks toward the door. Without warning, Sanjay's spine blows apart and his insides are now sliding off of the bed. Kyra opens the door, closes it quietly, and proceeds to walk out of the apartment.

Kyra's Revenge

Kyra and Sanjay are in a tiny, dark, bedroom. The only light is coming from the vanity mirror as Kyra's gorgeous face is illuminated while she puts on bright red lipstick. Sanjay begins to awaken on the king sized mattress directly behind her. He then begins to struggle as he has realized that he has been gaged and chained to the bed.

Kyra: Oh good! You're awake.

Kyra neatly closes her lipstick, wipes the corner of her mouth with a tissue, and then sits at the foot of the bed.

Kyra: I need to talk to you about something.

Sanjay begins to pull harder at the chains.

Kyra: It's no use trying to get away. I had Joseph-you remember Joseph? The guy from the gas station in Oaktown? He's so handy with all of the little knick knacks I need fixed around here. He can do anything for the right price. No questions asked. That guy is brilliant I tell ya...

Sanjay ignores Kyra and starts rattling the chains even harder.

Kyra: Uh, Sanjay, stop distracting me. If you want to be difficult about this I can be just make it harder on you.

Kyra winds a handle on the side of the bed. The chains become so taught that Sanjay is in the spread eagle position, unable to move. Sanjay screams in pain.

Kyra: See now, that's better. I know how you men tend to let your pride get in the way when it comes to listening to anyone with a pair of boobs so I just decided that this might be a little easier. Men like to make things so much tougher than they actually are. Am I right?

Kyra laughs at her own words. Sanjay looks at her with fear in his eyes.

Kyra: Oh now don't look at me that way. You can't possibly afraid of me? Or is it that you just think I'm crazy? If you are feeling the former, I applaud you, but if it's the latter, you have no idea...

Kyra slides a suitcase out from under the bed. She opens it, puts on a pair of latex gloves, and begins filling a few seringe's with different liquids.

Kyra: You probably don't remember me I'm sure. I wouldn't remember me either had I murdered a nine year old girl's parents, stolen their money, and left the country. Wouldn't you say? It's so easy to forget that people matter to other people. Forget that maybe, just maybe they don't quite deserve your cruelty? But that's kind of hard when every fiber of your being is burning with rage isn't it?

Sanjay shakes his head no in utter fear. Kyra rubs Sanjay's head gently and removes his dark hair from his face.

Kyra: There, there now, it will be alright, it won't hurt nearly as much as you think it will. 

Kyra ties Sanjay's upper arm with a scarf to find a nice vein in his arm. She injects the first dosage of liquid. Sanjay's eyes fill with tears.

Kyra: I'm sure you're sorry now aren't you?

Sanjay nods yes. She injects the second dosage.

Kyra: It's okay. It will be all over soon... You know I often wonder about my parents. What it would have been like if you didn't make my father get down on his knees in his own bedroom and blow a deep black hole through his skull.

Kyra injects the third dosage.

Kyra: I also wonder about my mom. It would have been easy to let her go, maybe have a little sympathy seeing as she was pregnant with my baby brother. She was a sweet woman. People often tell me that I resemble her, minus the gunshot wounds in my belly of course. I wonder if she would be proud of me.

Kyra injects the last dosage. Sanjay slows in movement.  He takes large slow breaths. His eyes are getting heavy. Kyra packs up her suitcase and closes the latch.

Kyra: Well, Sanjay, I guess this is good-bye. Seeing as how you are still conscious I will let you know what is happening to you. The drugs I have just administered to you come from the black market in Costa Rica. The first dosage is going to highten your senses, so everything you hear, see, and feel will be magnified. The second dosage slows muscle movement. The third dosage slows your heart and doesn't allow blood to pump through your veins and arteries, and the very last dosage should go right to  your sacrum and blow your spine apart from the inside out. 

Sanjay begins to contract his face in pain. 

Kyra: Be patient grasshopper, it is coming soon enough.

Kyra kisses Sanjay on the cheek, and walks toward the door. Without warning, Sanjay's spine blows apart and his insides are now sliding off of the bed. Kyra opens the door, closes it quietly, and proceeds to walk out of the apartment.

The Teacher's Conference

Written by: Gabby Steib


Mr Wilson: Alright class, after today's lecture on Civil Rights, I want you to go home and write about some issue that we still battle with today. It's nineteen eight five not nineteen fifty eight, but things in the world are still unbalanced. Oh, and Jeff, I'd like to meet with you after class.

[Bell Rings]

Jeff:  You wanted to see me Mr. Wilson?

Mr. Wilson: Ah, yes. Jeff your parents keep calling me to make sure you aren't getting into any trouble at school.

Jeff: Really? That's odd. Sir I really don't have time to get into trouble seeing as how I go work at the zoo after school and then go straight home to study.

Mr. Wilson: Is that so? Well that's quite ironic Jeff, don't you think? I mean you're sheltered so much at home and then you work at a place that professionally shelters and cages animals. Do you ever feel the need to break away? Maybe even let loose for a little?

[Mr. Wilson puts a hand on Jeff's knee.]

Jeff: I suppose so...

Lost

Imagine.

This is the experience that you've always wanted. You are in the land of wine and cheese. Where all of the beautiful people leisurely smoke their cigarettes and sip on tiny coffees at small tables in a cafe. Yes, this is your moment. You have always believed that you were born in the wrong country, and here is your chance to redeem yourself. But...you do not speak French. Nevertheless you must find your way to school for your first day of classes.
You begin your journey on a beautiful stone paved road. You open your map in front of you at the expense of looking like a tourist and find that your map is (of course) in French. You look up and scan your surroundings...where are the signs? Oh, right there! But, that is in French too. Damnit. Why didn't you take French more seriously? How did you think you were going to live here for an entire year without knowing anything?!
Breathe. It's okay. Everything is going to be okay. Just keep walking. The Université d'Aix-Marseille shouldn't be that hard to find. Right? Right? I'm sure it's here somewhere... Oh, but now it's raining. Breathe. No biggie. You just need to focus on finding the road and getting to school, so you march on. And then it continues to rain. And pour. And-is that lightning? Why did you forget your umbrella? And what is the word for umbrella anyway?
You look down. Your map is starting to dissolve into a colorful mess. Don't cry. It's fine... Okay you can cry a little. But make it look like the rain is in your eyes. You don't have an umbrella after all. Just don't panic. Your heart is beating a little faster as you look down at your watch. It's ten minutes to nine. You can't be late for your first class. How are you going to get there?
Oh, there are two old men over there. Maybe they'd be willing to help a lost American. You approach nervously. Crap! How do you ask for directions?
"Um. Exusez-moi. Uh, Où est rue d'Italie?"
The two men look at each other. Hopefully they understood through your terrible accent. They begin to argue. Shit. You don't have time for this. They look at you expectantly, and then they each point in the opposite direction. Great. Five minutes to nine. Your best bet may just be to go back home. At least you know where that is. One of the men snap to get your attention and points to a sign.
"C'est ici!"
You look up and find a bright yellow sign pointing you down the street and you follow it with your eyes to see that the University is down the street. Yes! Yes! Yes! You begin to run toward it. At this point, you decide that it's okay to look like a crazy American, because you my friend, are not going to be late for class.

Pancakes

Flour. Oil. Eggs. Milk.

I remember that sunny Saturday morning. I was eight years old, and I picked out my favorite multicolored striped dress just for Mommy's birthday. Sunlight was pouring through the kitchen window as Daddy brought Simon and me downstairs to help him make his special cinnamon apple pancakes. The light was making the dark mahogany cabinets even darker, and the silver faucet in the sink gleam. I was finally tall enough to reach over the counter, so Daddy let me measure out the four cups of flour in a bright orange measuring cup, and dump it clumsily into a large white mixing bowl. No matter how much fluffy, white, powder covered the granite counter tops, Daddy always smiled as if I was doing the best job in the world. Simon was in charge of cracking the eggs and dumping the goopy suns in the messy mixture while Daddy was always the stirrer. As soon as Daddy clicked on the ice blue flame from the gas stove I knew the waft of cinnamon was about to dance through the air, and then Mommy would know that we were making something special. Daddy poured the mix into a big black skillet, like the moon setting in the night sky. He cooked one side, and then the other. Before we all knew it we had three perfectly stacked golden-brown pancakes, topped with a white square of butter and drizzled syrup. Simon brought out the fancy silver tray for me to put the plate of pancakes on. Simon poured her a side of orange juice while Daddy topped it all of with a rose and a card signed by all of us. We walked up the stairs in anticipation. Slow, sneaky movements so that Mommy would be surprised. I will never forget Daddy opening the door and the world feeling like it was moving in slow motion as he dropped the fancy silver tray and went to Mommy's side. As Simon and I entered the bedroom we saw Mommy face down in a bright scarlet pool of her own blood. There was a rock in my throat and suddenly I couldn't speak. I couldn't breathe. Daddy turned her limp body over like a rag doll and examined the angry gash in her head. Tiny white bubbles were spewing from her mouth, and at that moment I realized Daddy's rose would soon be put on a large, grey tombstone.