Okay this is where I will be putting up various pieces that I do from now till the end of the internet. I try to vary styling and genres, comments and constructive criticism are also well received.
This first piece I wrote just now so I'd have something to put up here. I started it just with the line "Goodness what is there to say?" and just went with it. Not sure if I will continue this story, maybe if people request it or whatever. Enjoy.
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"Oh goodness, what is there to say?" She said to me while watching herself tap her fingers on the table, like she always did when she was trying hard not to make eye contact with someone. Her nails were real and about half an inch long, polished not coloured; as if she was trying to accentuate the beauty of her hand, rather than try and disuse them with the false pretence a person puts up from colouring them black or perhaps purple or some other colour designed to say something about a person's personality that words possibly couldn't.
Despite the naturalness of her nails however, false pretences were what this girl was all about. This whole goddamn conversation had been under one the minute she opened that lip glossed mouth of hers, as if she had walked in the room and erected this giant fucking umbrella that covered the whole room which made the whole conversation about how she was the sad little victim caught in the middle of this huge clusterfuck that had just happened five hours and seven blocks away. Too bad for her, I could see right through that shit. I knew when it came to her or a person like her you always had to cut open a hole in that umbrella of pretence and let the rain come through and let the drops of interpretation hit you and cool your face, and when you wipe the water away your eyes are clear and you can see that you're not dealing with your average twenty four year old women here. If given the chance she probably would take that umbrella and stick it right through your fucking eyeball, which is why you must always be a step ahead; control the conversation. Which is what I was about to do.
"Dixey." I say her name slow and deep and leave a large pause so she can pick up on that what I am about to say is going to be very serious. She stops looking at her hand and looks at me.
"I trust you to be smart enough not to try any of your shit with me like you do with the other idiots, because it's not going to work here this time at this table. So I suggest that you take a deep breath, think about it seriously for a minute or two and then take your time to slowly tell me in detail, what it was that happened down there."
Dixey sits still looking at me for about a second and a half, then moves her massacred eyes up to the top left hand corner for about half a second more. She brings them back down onto me once again, and then inhales to begin speaking. Fuck, I didn't get through to her. For that half a second she looked away she was really thinking about whether or not to tell me the truth. I knew she decided not to. She started talking too fast, didn't think it through. What she was telling me was probably the bullshit story she had started think of when I first picked her up, rehearsing over and over in her mind to say to me right now when it got to this very moment. I don't stop her from speaking; I just lean back and listen to what she has to say. Let her think I'm buying it. I might as well, pretences might be false but facts are facts despite how stretched might be, and this is the only way I'm going to get even a vague idea of exactly what went down earlier tonight. I glance out the window and can see the morning glow come over the horizon. This was going to be a tough conversation, but I bet I could break her before sunrise...
