Lost

          Linda put her hand on the lever and pulled it down.  The slot machine came to life before her, the pictures rolling quickly in the three frames.  She could dimly hear the Vegas noise behind her, but her eyes and ears were focused on the machine in front of her.  The first picture stopped rolling and rested on a “7”.  The second picture halted a moment later, “7” again.  Linda felt her throat contract rigidly and her left hand flew up to rest on the face of the machine.

            When the third roller stopped, she just sat staring at the double cherries.  7, 7, cherries.  Her fingers felt numb as she pulled her gamer’s card out of the machine.  Five thousand dollars.  Lost.  Linda wrapped the card’s lanyard chain around her hand and stood up.

            The casino noises crashed down on her as she walked toward the exit.  What was she going to tell her brother?  Harvey had loaned her the money to get her out of debt, not further into it.  She could no longer remember a time when she had not taken every dollar she earned to the casino.  It had been two months since she had a regular job with a consistent paycheck—most employers didn’t want an addictive gambler as an employee.  Every last one of them had considered her a security threat, like she had the money or the smarts to steal from them.

Burned Bridge

          “She won’t speak to me,” I said. 

            Damon shrugged his shoulders, his cotton t-shirt sleeves brushing against my own.  He kept his body facing the TV screen and tilted his head to glance at me.  The sounds coming from the screen almost drowned out his murmured response, “So call her.”

            “I have called her.  She won’t answer.”  I snuggled a little deeper into the plush red suede couch and focused my eyes  on the screen so I wasn’t staring at him awkwardly.

            “So call her from someone else’s phone.”  His fingers continued to tap out the control commands for his character.

            “I’ve tried.  She hangs up as soon as she hears my voice.”

            “Bummer.”  Damon heaved out a sigh.  I was not sure if this was in response to my situation or the fact that his character had failed this level of the game for the fifth time tonight.  He tossed the controller onto the floor before heading into the kitchen.

            I turned to watch his slim figure walk to the fridge and rested my chin on the back of the couch.  The fabric felt soft and cool against my skin and I closed my eyes for a moment, pretending that I could set down my troubles as easily as my head.  I had been so sure that she would take my side, but I should have known that my grandmother would love her son more than she loved me.

As a Matter of Thought

As a Matter of Thought

Alexandra studied the buildings around her from the roof of her nine story apartment building and contemplated the effect of a fall from her rooftop to the sidewalk directly below her or the alley way on the building’s west end.  If she turned her head to the left, she knew she would be able to smell the refuse heaped in and around the dumpsters below.  The building directly across the alley was a two-story with shoddy brick construction, a broken iron fire escape, and a Royal Dragon Chinese buffet.  She did not like the idea of her broken body being found amongst the stale leftovers, but neither did she wish to perhaps crush a random person beneath her by dropping onto the sidewalk.  There were only a few people passing by this late in the evening, but her luck was such that she could not shake the image of an accidental murder accompanying the suicide.  Streetlights started popping on and their intrusion forced Alexandra out of her mind.  No longer lost within, she could now feel the damp heat of the summer night embracing her exposed skin.  Inconsistently, the feeling made her shiver; she loved being warm and death was cold.  But what is cold to one who can no longer feel?

            Alexandra picked up her journal and pen to scribble out the results of her exercise.  As with any philosophical debate, this one had provided more questions than answers.  She relished the stream of thought which seemed to have no end.  The simple pleasure of thinking halted the journey of her pen across the page.  Unconscious of her actions, Alexandra set down her work and stood once more against the roof’s brick walled edge.  The structure reached her navel but she knew it was no real obstruction to discovery, only a security measure for those with no real intent to fall.

Wired Windows

Wired Windows

          Scarlette pretended.  She pretended that her arms were crossed across her chest because she wanted them to be.  She pretended that the buckles of the white jacket didn’t pinch her skin through the fabric and that the quilted walls around her were squares of snow rather than a cage.  They didn’t understand.  They thought she needed to be protected from herself, that the world needed to be protected from her.

            She wiggled her shoulders within the tight confines of their jacket and struggled to get off of her cot without the support of her arms.  The strength of her legs sent her off the bed and onto the soft fabric of the bubbled floor.  She used her head to force her body to balance on her heels and walked on her knees to the other side of the room.  Scarlette faced the corner.

            Cecely didn’t understand why her father made her stare into a corner or why she had to be in time-out.  She hadn’t done anything wrong.  If Megan had shared her Barbie doll, then Cecely wouldn’t have needed to half it so they could both have something to play with.  The Barbie didn’t need a head anyway.  Next time Megan wouldn’t share, Cecely would punish Megan instead of the doll.

            “Cecely, you can come out of time out now.”

“Scarlette…  Scarlette, come out of the room now.”

Scarlette blew a raspberry and turned away from the corner to crawl toward the door.  She knew she scared them when she stood up so she had stopped walking upright.  She could be a dog and get a treat.  The exasperation she could see in their eyes now was much more fun than the fear that was present when she first got here.  How long had she been here?  Where was here?

Kalia was lost.  This wasn’t the first time she had come to Overlook Mall, but the rush of people around her was disturbing her sense of direction.  She couldn’t remember where she was suppose to meet her parents and the frustrated tears in her eyes blurred her vision so much that she couldn’t see the names of the stores around her.  She rubbed her face against her shoulder to brush away the wet film and started looking for the billboard that would have a map of the mall on it.

“Are you okay?”  The man came up from behind her and gripped her shoulder.  Kalia twisted around to force his hand away from her, pushing it back against his body as hard as she could until she felt his wrist snap and heard him scream.

Someone else grabbed her from behind and another person tightened up the buckles she had loosened on the jacket when she crawled out of the room and down the hall, a snake slithering on legs.  They faced her toward the screaming man and continued to hold her tight even though she had stopped struggling.  The pain apparent on the man’s face fascinated her and calmed the confusion she had felt.  The contrast between his pristine blue scrubs and the violent red color of his face was comforting.

“Damn it, John.  I told you not to touch her; she’s done this before,” said a male voice behind her.