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tamingthemuse2007-12-22 07:36 pm
dedra.livejournal.com) wrote in tamingthemuse2007-12-22 07:36 pm
Entry tags:
Prompt 74 - Nowhere - "From Nowhere To Somewhere" - <user site="livejournal.com" user="spikespetslay
Title: From Nowhere To Somewhere
Fandom/Pairing: none
Warnings: none
Summary: Cissy wanted to be something more and she was going to have to find a way to recreate herself.
A/N: Merry Christmas to all! To All a Good Night!
From Nowhere To Somewhere
She stood at the center of the dirty, dusty, dead-end town holding the letter in her hand. At one end of the road was the single blinking stoplight that had been there for as long as she could remember. At the other end was the tired grocery store and the gas station with its single pump out in front.
She looked down at the letter in her hand, the exotic colors of the stamp vibrant in the tan heat that seemed to saturate this place in the middle of nowhere. Danny had finally written her a letter; it seemed like years since she’d last seen him and minutes since she had mailed her last long letter to him. It had been minutes, in fact; the postmaster was putting the letter in her box when she had walked in to buy more stamps.
She could help it; her hands shook with the pent-up excitement as she ripped the flap open and sat down on the curb at the same time. With her chin resting on her knees, she opened the single sheet of paper that came out of the envelope and read the words that were printed in Danny’s childish scrawl.
Dear Cissy
It was good to hear from you. I’ve been here a week and I’ve already got three letters from you. That was a surprise.
I appreciate hearing all the news from home. It makes boot seem a little less lonesome, kind of like having a friend right there to talk to and tell you all that you’re missing out on.
Cissy, I really don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but the reason that I joined the Army was to see the world. I don’t want to come back to the Flats when I’m out of the service. I’m signing on for the whole shebang, until I retire. They tell me that if I’m in for 20 years that I can retire with a real good pension and be set for life.
I’m sorry that I gave you the wrong idea when I asked if you would write to me. I know that you’ve had a crush on me for a long time and it was a real boost to a guy’s ego, lemme tell you. But Cissy, I don’t want to tie myself down to one person or one town forever. I want to go places and see things and I don’t know if you fit in with those plans.
Still, I like getting your letters. You’ll always be one of my best friends.
Danny
She felt, rather than heard, her heart crack down the center and fall to pieces around her in the middle of the chat road that her feet rested on. She could feel the tears cutting ridges in the dust on her face as they ran down her cheeks, dripping off her chin and onto her off-white tee shirt that was discolored almost the minute that she put it on that morning.
He didn’t think that she fit in with his plans. That single statement stood out in her mind, echoing through the emptiness of her brain that had been shocked to the point of shutting down. Before she could register what she was doing, her feet were moving down the road and she flew into her house, the screen door slamming behind her as she dodged furniture and toys on the way to her bedroom.
He didn’t think that she would fit in with his plans.
What did he think? Did he think that she wanted to stay in Busted Flats, in this grimy one-horse town with no hope and no life? Half of her friends were pregnant and married at sixteen with no chance in hell of graduating high school; she had escaped their fate, at least.
She wanted to see the world, to live, not to stay here and become just another loser in this tiny little town. She wanted to be somebody special. She wanted to travel too. There was so much running through her head that she couldn’t begin to think, the thoughts were coming so fast, so she did the only thing that she knew and picked up a pen and notebook and wrote Danny another letter.
When it was done, before she could read it and rethink what she had written, she sealed it in an envelope and ran down the road to the post office to drop it into the box. She immediately regretted it, but it was too late now. It would go out in the morning and be to Fort Bliss in two or three days with all of her hurt and pain out in the open for him to see.
Her feet slapped the oiled road as she headed back home, her head hanging low and her chin resting on her chest. She had to get out of here. She was eighteen now; she needed to see something before she rotted in this place.
With a grimace and a prayer, she took her bank savings book out of her hiding place and opened it up. Over a thousand dollars there, waiting for something. At one time she thought it would be college. Her mother had talked her into beauty school for a while; said that she could make money and work her way through college until she knew what she wanted to do.
Not that she didn’t already know. She wanted to write books, stuff that was real and gritty and down to earth that people like her would want to read. She wanted to be somebody who left a mark on the world, not just another baby-maker in a dead-end marriage in a dead-end town.
She made up her mind and started throwing things into a duffel bag. Jeans, shirts, an extra pair of sneakers and a pair of dress shoes, her one good Sunday dress and her gold earrings that she got from grandma. She left the things that she could live without—pictures, posters, the flotsam and jetsam of a teenage life that was coming quickly to an end.
On the very top of the stack, she put in her notebook, some ink pens, some envelopes, and her stamps.
She scribbled a note and put it on the table for Momma to find when she got home from her factory job thirty miles away, then hiked out to the T-road with the flashing stoplight after stopping by the bank. With a grim look, she began to walk, hoping for a driver with a heart to stop and pick her up. She didn’t expect anything but hard luck, but it was better than no luck at all.
She needed to prove something. If not to Danny, then to herself. She was going places, with or without him. Right now, she wasn’t sure where that was, but it was anyplace but here.
A/N2: Chat roads. In rural America, the roads are not always paved. Sometimes they are oiled with black crude, used oil, or tar, and a reddish-brown rock layer is applied. The rock, called chat, adheres to the oil surface of the road and keeps the dust down during the summer months. I don't know where they chat roads, but here in Central IL and I know some other places, they do.
Fandom/Pairing: none
Warnings: none
Summary: Cissy wanted to be something more and she was going to have to find a way to recreate herself.
A/N: Merry Christmas to all! To All a Good Night!
From Nowhere To Somewhere
She stood at the center of the dirty, dusty, dead-end town holding the letter in her hand. At one end of the road was the single blinking stoplight that had been there for as long as she could remember. At the other end was the tired grocery store and the gas station with its single pump out in front.
She looked down at the letter in her hand, the exotic colors of the stamp vibrant in the tan heat that seemed to saturate this place in the middle of nowhere. Danny had finally written her a letter; it seemed like years since she’d last seen him and minutes since she had mailed her last long letter to him. It had been minutes, in fact; the postmaster was putting the letter in her box when she had walked in to buy more stamps.
She could help it; her hands shook with the pent-up excitement as she ripped the flap open and sat down on the curb at the same time. With her chin resting on her knees, she opened the single sheet of paper that came out of the envelope and read the words that were printed in Danny’s childish scrawl.
Dear Cissy
It was good to hear from you. I’ve been here a week and I’ve already got three letters from you. That was a surprise.
I appreciate hearing all the news from home. It makes boot seem a little less lonesome, kind of like having a friend right there to talk to and tell you all that you’re missing out on.
Cissy, I really don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but the reason that I joined the Army was to see the world. I don’t want to come back to the Flats when I’m out of the service. I’m signing on for the whole shebang, until I retire. They tell me that if I’m in for 20 years that I can retire with a real good pension and be set for life.
I’m sorry that I gave you the wrong idea when I asked if you would write to me. I know that you’ve had a crush on me for a long time and it was a real boost to a guy’s ego, lemme tell you. But Cissy, I don’t want to tie myself down to one person or one town forever. I want to go places and see things and I don’t know if you fit in with those plans.
Still, I like getting your letters. You’ll always be one of my best friends.
Danny
She felt, rather than heard, her heart crack down the center and fall to pieces around her in the middle of the chat road that her feet rested on. She could feel the tears cutting ridges in the dust on her face as they ran down her cheeks, dripping off her chin and onto her off-white tee shirt that was discolored almost the minute that she put it on that morning.
He didn’t think that she fit in with his plans. That single statement stood out in her mind, echoing through the emptiness of her brain that had been shocked to the point of shutting down. Before she could register what she was doing, her feet were moving down the road and she flew into her house, the screen door slamming behind her as she dodged furniture and toys on the way to her bedroom.
He didn’t think that she would fit in with his plans.
What did he think? Did he think that she wanted to stay in Busted Flats, in this grimy one-horse town with no hope and no life? Half of her friends were pregnant and married at sixteen with no chance in hell of graduating high school; she had escaped their fate, at least.
She wanted to see the world, to live, not to stay here and become just another loser in this tiny little town. She wanted to be somebody special. She wanted to travel too. There was so much running through her head that she couldn’t begin to think, the thoughts were coming so fast, so she did the only thing that she knew and picked up a pen and notebook and wrote Danny another letter.
When it was done, before she could read it and rethink what she had written, she sealed it in an envelope and ran down the road to the post office to drop it into the box. She immediately regretted it, but it was too late now. It would go out in the morning and be to Fort Bliss in two or three days with all of her hurt and pain out in the open for him to see.
Her feet slapped the oiled road as she headed back home, her head hanging low and her chin resting on her chest. She had to get out of here. She was eighteen now; she needed to see something before she rotted in this place.
With a grimace and a prayer, she took her bank savings book out of her hiding place and opened it up. Over a thousand dollars there, waiting for something. At one time she thought it would be college. Her mother had talked her into beauty school for a while; said that she could make money and work her way through college until she knew what she wanted to do.
Not that she didn’t already know. She wanted to write books, stuff that was real and gritty and down to earth that people like her would want to read. She wanted to be somebody who left a mark on the world, not just another baby-maker in a dead-end marriage in a dead-end town.
She made up her mind and started throwing things into a duffel bag. Jeans, shirts, an extra pair of sneakers and a pair of dress shoes, her one good Sunday dress and her gold earrings that she got from grandma. She left the things that she could live without—pictures, posters, the flotsam and jetsam of a teenage life that was coming quickly to an end.
On the very top of the stack, she put in her notebook, some ink pens, some envelopes, and her stamps.
She scribbled a note and put it on the table for Momma to find when she got home from her factory job thirty miles away, then hiked out to the T-road with the flashing stoplight after stopping by the bank. With a grim look, she began to walk, hoping for a driver with a heart to stop and pick her up. She didn’t expect anything but hard luck, but it was better than no luck at all.
She needed to prove something. If not to Danny, then to herself. She was going places, with or without him. Right now, she wasn’t sure where that was, but it was anyplace but here.
A/N2: Chat roads. In rural America, the roads are not always paved. Sometimes they are oiled with black crude, used oil, or tar, and a reddish-brown rock layer is applied. The rock, called chat, adheres to the oil surface of the road and keeps the dust down during the summer months. I don't know where they chat roads, but here in Central IL and I know some other places, they do.