After playing in the locker room with this make a short story or whatever with 3 given words, I had a loose paragraph, so I turned that into a story today, (can’t have a loose paragraph doing nothing in my computer, I’ve got to get it working!)
So let’s see what you think of it. Feel freeNOTE: AFTER COMMENTS I'VE DONE SOME AMMENDMENTS. SO I'VE EDITED THE POST. THE STORY HAS NOW 1210 WORDS INSTEAD OF 1067 WORDS) THANKS FOR PATIENCE
More than cakes
By Alexandra Riera2008 Alexandra Riera
Marianne felt compelled to travel the world after she had met that man at the bar the previous night. She had only gone in for a quick drink and a chat with her friend Christine. As Marianne waited for Christine to turn up, the man kept staring at her every time he turned around from that bar stool he was sitting on. Marianne wondered why he got away with smoking in the place, there were signs that clearly pointed to even the most stupid person in the whole world that smoking was totally forbidden in the place. Perhaps that man was the owner, she had thought; but even owners had to follow the law. Fed up with the staring and also with the smell of the cigar the man was emanating from his huge cigar, she went over to him.
“What’s up with you mister?”
The man blew the smoke he had obviously been holding in away from her face and made a show of it by making circles. “mmm” he said as he looked her up and down. “Do you come here often? No, of course you don’t. This is the first time I see you here.”
“Excuse me?” asked Marianne.
“Don’t pretend to be deaf Marianne; I’ve seen you tapping your fingers to the rhythm of the music while you waited for your Christine.”
“How do you know?” Asked Marianne who was now beginning to look around in a panic.
“I’m Christine’s pimp.”
Marianne simply froze. As far as she knew Christine wasn’t into that, she worked with her at the bakery and they had been friends for the past year, ever since they met at the bakery. Christine hadn’t worked in her whole life before; she had been a rich spoiled brat that had always had her parents at her beck and call until one day, her father threw her out of the house and told her to get a life. He stopped giving her money and she had to find a job. Marianne recalled how at first, Christine was a bit on the shy side and how Marianne did her best to help her friend over come her shyness by getting to know the members of the opposite sex by coaxing her into going out to different pubs and bars and sometimes even to parties. That had been difficult for the past three months at best of times as Christine was always reading financial newspapers and always talking about the stock exchange. She kept saying she needed to make her own money. Perhaps she had been doing too much of a good job, she wondered.
“I’ve heard a lot about you.” The man said.
Marianne regained her composure and took the stool next to the man as she looked around and made sure the bar was still full of people. “So,” she said, “what have you heard about me?”
“… that you’re not happy with your life, that you want a change.”
“Yes, that’s true, but that doesn’t mean….”
“I know, I know,” interrupted the man, “that doesn’t mean you want a part time job for extra income, I know that…”
“No, of course not” Answered Marianne now beginning to feel uneasy. Perhaps she shouldn’t have approached the man in the first place and she should have walked out of the bar; or better, she should have called Christine and found out why she was late. She put her bag on her lap and started rummaging in it trying to find her mobile phone.
“She’ll tell you she’s moved.” The man said.
“How did you know I was going to call her?”
“It’s only natural. Christine is your friend, you’ve arranged to meet here and instead of her, you find me here. If I were you I’d want to check if I’m telling the truth or not. Go on, go on; give her a call.”
Marianne found her mobile phone and dialled Christine’s number. Seconds later, Christine was on the line.
“Christine? Yes… I’m fine, yes.. Well, no; I’m not fine. Where the hell are you?” she shouted into the phone. “What? Argentina? But Why?? What are you doing there? Alright, I’ll shut up.”
Marianne listened intently to her friend and at the same time glanced at the man sitting next to her who was now lighting another cigar. Minutes later Marianne turned her phone off and put it back in her bag.
“See?” The man told her.
Marianne looked at the man, a mixture of wonder, fright and anger filled her. She was lost for words. She got off the stool.
“Before you leave…..”
Marianne lost it then, she picked up the glass that was on the bar and threw it at him and then turned to leave. She felt a restraining hand on her arm and she tried to break free. People in the bar were already staring and were waiting for something to happen. “Wait,” the man said softly. “Christine gave me this for you.” He pointed to a wooden box on the floor. Marianne stopped struggling.
“It’s a box and if you want to know…,” he said as he released her, “I don’t know what’s inside.” He bent down to get the box and then placed it on her stool. “Why don’t you open it?”
Marianne felt the edges of the box, trying to see what was inside as she were psychic but couldn’t feel anything at all to her frustration. She flipped the lid open. Inside there was a little black bag and a note. She picked up the note and read it.Hello Marianne,
You’ve been a great friend; you’ve helped me get out of my shell and thanks to you I’ve discovered that life has much more to it than what a bakery has and that I can do anything by myself. After sharing your dreams with me and helping me discover mine I’ve decided to actually go and do something about mine.
By the time you get this I will be miles away and hopefully Alvaro will have given you this box. I trust him with my life, he’s my father and I love him even though he’s a bit of a prankster. I left bonds and cash in that bag for you so that you too can follow your dreams. The bakery was fun but as you used to say… There’s more to life than cakes.”
Marianne finished reading the letter and looked inside the little bag. Yes, all was there. “Alvaro?” she asked the man.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were Christine’s father?”
“Oh, well, a bit of fun never hurt anyone.” He said as he laughed. “Would you like a drink?”
“No, thanks Alvaro; I think I’ll just go home.”
Just as Marianne was leaving the bar, two policemen walked in… “Smoking has been reported here…” she heard them say as the door closed behind her. That Alvaro was going to get fined, she laughed.
The following morning, Marianne packed her cat in her rucksack and Christine’s little black bag together with her the letter and her sleeping bag and she was now on the move. She stuffed her purse and her credit card in her pockets and left the house.
© 2008 Alexandra Riera
August 23rd - 2008