Continued story from term 1

            …Startled she turns around. The sight in front of her was unbearable yet she could not turn away. Shannon felt as if she had been struck with lightening, puncturing her lungs so she could not take a real breath.                                                                                                                                                                    “Daddy…?” She whispers, “Daddy, are you there?” Reaching out her hand she grazes his face. Trembling she pulls in for a hug, then suddenly realizes he has disappeared, like sugar in water. That simple, that fast. Shannon is rattled at this point, to say the least. Her mother was right, and she had been fooled yet again.  Shannon saunters towards the shed still vibrating from the invigorating thought that her father was not dead. She was too embarrassed to tell her mother, so she sat down outside the shed, curled her legs to her chest and wept.

            -A voice speaks to her yet again but without a figure-

            “Hey, Shan. I know youre strong, and your power within will allow this house to bring me back… I promise.”  Shannon smiles because he is giving her hope. She remembers the song her father used to sing her.

Baby girl your sparkle shines, throughout the dark night 
Never fear, Daddy is here, and will be by your side    

Her body tingled from the toes up to her silky blonde hair. The love from her father was so strong she could feel it through his “imaginary” voice. But it seemed the strength of the song prevailed. From then on, Shannon sang the song from her father every day until the calendar his his birthday—May 3^rd. She thought to herself how perfect sense this makes for him to appear on his 40^th birthday. As she is pulling her arm through the sleeve of her jean jacket, a note falls from the pocket. “Freaky…” She gasps. She unfolds the paper and as the words pass her lips another gasp occurs but this time, Shannon faints.  

“Shannon, oh my! What happened?!”

“Shannon, are you okay?”

“Shannon, wake up!”

A million voices cohered into unison blurring Shannon’s brain with fog. Holding her palm to her head she slowly rolls up. She is beyond confused, she had never fainted before. Her Aunt brings over an ice pack, “Shannon, you really need to tell us what happened did someone do this to you?”

“No! No, I was just… in a daze and I guess I haven’t been getting much sleep. Im just tired. That’s all.”

“Are you sure nothing else is going on?”

“YES,” Shannon snaps, “I am fine. I will BE fine. Now would everyone just leave me alone?”

Her family was appalled. They had never seen her behave this way, it was unusual. She realized perhaps her anger may have proved there really was something wrong. She decided to turn the anger into passion and determination, to make her father appear. Shannon sang the song everywhere she went. She wrote it in chalk on the sidewalks, and engraved it into trees. If the song surrounded her, maybe it would create a greater force. Maybe she was crazy, she thought. But what she did know was that she would do anything to bring her father back to her and her family, in the house they built for him.

As the night approached and the summer stars were appearing, she waited patiently. She brought along a picnic blanket, and laid it outside the house. She sat in the spot where her father had made her stand to take a picture on the first day the house was completed. Shannon felt she had done everything thinkable to create a mixture of a possible potion to bring her father back.

The night progressed and her patience was wearing thin.  Where was he? She thought. Did he really want to come back for me? Does he really love me? As she pondered these heart aching questions, she smelled a potent scent of cinnamon buns… her favorite! Her father would always surprise her afterschool with one on special occasions. She just knew he was finally here, she felt her throat close shortening her breath from her overwhelming excitement. A dark figure came around the corner and she stood up straightening her sweater, it was her Daddy’s.

            “Daddy?” The shadow became a full coloured figure, her jaw dropped at the sight she had seen. This was not what she expected, she begins to back up in fear, her father was not here.

            “My dear Shannon… I have come for you…”

Full of cliches

I told her to quit beating around the bush already.                                                                   
I didn't care if she rained on my parade.
She begged to differ. But i insisted even if it was hard to swallow, I needed to know.
She began to speak, and literally had a cow.
I was in over my head, I asked for too much.
Sometimes if you get a heads up, you wont fall.

Something new, something blue

Blue shoes, new shoes

Some sort of essence

Blue shoes, new shoes

Made to dance

Blue shoes, new shoes

You must prance,

Around in your blue shoes, new shoes.  

 

The ravenous ravine rattled

Rushing, raving

The rate is rather rational

Considering the raw reality,

Even the ravens searching for rats

Restrained themselves .

The raucous of rain disturbed the resting rattlesnakes.

Rasping, running.

Creation of the Spork (NEW SHOOTS!!)

Laughter rippled throughout the kitchen as the sink slowly filled up. Frederico was not only a piece of red sculpted plastic, but he was a Fork.  With his prongs he grabbed onto the side of the sink and swayed with the wave. He was not the only one with the address of 950 Wilson St; surrounding him were other forks, knives, spoons and any other utensil you can think of. But he was an outcast, the only one of the group arriving from China made from plastic. They were all imported from India, all grown up and made from metal. He was just, plastic. Amidst the excitement of bath time he was suddenly blown away, he noticed a bright lemon coloured plastic Spoon bobbing in the corner of the sink, she was beautiful. He could not take his eyes off of her. The two floated towards each other during a massive wave, Frederico began to introduce himself but the gushing waterfall from the tap interrupted him. When he finally got his chance to speak, she had suddenly disappeared! Calling for her in confusion he stopped to realize the sink had drained…

            All that consumed Frederico’s mind was the Spoon. He tossed and turned in his shelf trying to sleep but he could not stop thinking about her radiance. She could be his soul mate…but he had to find her. The utensils always hear gruesome horror stories about getting stuck in the drain, and he wondered if she would ever find her way out.

During the day when the house was empty, Frederico had come up with a plan. He tiptoed slowly to the craft drawer. He knew he would find some sort of army gear in there. Frederico grabbed tinfoil and the roll of clear tape. He then wrapped himself in the tinfoil to create an illusion so he would look like a piece of garbage.  Rolling through the cat door in the back, the rush of being free electrified his body and he starts to hop on his way. Unstoppable was what he felt like, hopping and hopping, he is acquiring a good rhythm. He was already exhausted; walking across the lane was a process. But he thought to himself, if he had made it this far, he could not turn back now! He began to feel extraordinarily hot… then Frederico looked up dumbfounded that it was sunny out. He had never left the house before in his life, so he did not know what sun felt like. And perhaps, this outfit wasn’t the appropriate choice for the weather. But before he could whip it off, he felt a hand around his neck and suddenly was freefalling into a dark hole! He heard wheels rolling, “Oh no…” he murmured, this was another warning about the outside world...the trash can. He suggests he should have known since his objective was to blend in as a piece of garbage, but he did not realize it was pick-up day…

Gasping for air as he saw the light above him appear, Frederico climbed out of that bin faster than the speed of light!---Well, so he thought. His prongs finally came to good use as opposed to being plunged into food and put in children’s mouths. A flustered Fork he was in this moment, stumbling to the nearby water. He makes the quick decision to hop into a pristine red toy boat in the river, thinking to himself “I am so smart. I can just float along and chill out, maybe have a margarita…Red on red! No one will ever know!”

Contrary to his belief… Frederico begins to hear loud cheering, “number 6! Go number 6! You got it I’m betting all my money on you!” Oh no, was this a boat race he just got himself in the middle of?! As the boat speeds up…he realizes it was true. “Well”, he murmured, “at least we’re winning, and I’m super comfortable!”                                                                                                     After quite a few minutes, the boat comes to a halt splashing water all over Frederico. “Oh please…how rude and inconsiderate! I was just dozing off.”                                                                                                       He subtly attempts to climb onto the sidewalk, and falls back hitting the water hard. Luckily no one notices Frederico’s clumsiness…so he recovers and begins to walk away. He wonders to himself: if these plans haven’t even worked so far… how am I ever going to find my other half…

Frederick is really upset and continues to walk while pouting. He sees a wooden park bench, wraps himself around the metal leg and slinks himself up. Giving up is a strong topic on the poor Fork’s brain right now. He believes there is no point in living if he does not find his other half; he is incomplete.  Frederico looks to his left, and sees a red Chinese Flying Pigeon; he recognizes those from before he was imported to America! Thrilled he yells, “Wow! I spotted those around the streets of China while I was packaged in the car...but never have I been this close to one!” He had to touch it; better yet, he is going to use it to find that remarkable yellow Spoon! Acknowledging his intelligence he giggles to himself while he creeps up to the bike. It has an old fashioned basket attached to the front of the handlebars, perfect! He thought.

The bike stops with a swerve. After a long journey, over hills, through crowds, under bridges…Frederico climbs out of the basket yet again. This time, he is expecting to be across the country, in a field of colourful flowers and to have his lover run straight into his arms. But his googly-like eyes widen as he realizes: he is still downtown. They went in a circle! Now Frederico is back where he began, worrying where the radiant yellow Spoon had disappeared to. His head hanging low, the passionate cherry-red Fork slowly ventures towards his home. Will he ever be complete? Will he find his other half? Will she be okay? All of these questions ran through Frederick’s mind filling it with concern and angst. He rolled through the cat door and climbed up to his bed. It was late at night so all the utensils were comfortably tucked into bed. As he begins to attempt a silent slip into bed…he knocks one of his fellow knives by accident!      “FREDERICO! Where have you been!? We were all worried sick!” exclaims the knife, in a reply Frederico says “Well..um, I was searching for the Spoon”

“What Spoon? That bright yellow thing?”

“Yes…her”

“Oh, well I guess she IS one of your kinds…”

“Yes anyways, where is she? I have searched ever so dearly all over downtown!” A long pause from the knife unsettles Frederico, “You did WHAT?! We are not supposed to leave the house Fred! What were you thinking? You could’ve been killed out there.”

“I was thinking: I am in love.”

The sun rose simultaneously with the alarm clock. Time for breakfast! The smell of fresh orange juice and the sweet aroma of buttered toast made Frederico smile. He is set in front of Molly the little girl’s plate, she loves him. As she picks him up in her tiny left hand he looks to his right and sees a bright yellow Spoon in her other hand. His heart stops, she was here at last!

“Hi, I’m um, I’m Frederico,” he says flustered.

“Well Hello, my name is Sally, I was made in China. What about you?”

“Me too!” He is ecstatic; he knew it was a perfect fit.

“So, have you ever heard of a Spork?”

“No, I haven’t, what is it?”

Sally has a grin appear on her flawless face, “It is what you and I are meant to be.”

A Superficial Diary

    It wasn’t worth it. The past 7 years to end up like this, unhealthy and alone.

   My first day in the industry was exceptional; I felt like a princess. Showered with gifts and compliments, the opportunity seemed to be once in a lifetime. My parents disapproved, warning me of the dangers I could encounter. But I was ignorant to their opinions; I wanted to feel beautiful for once.

    A typical day at the studio was blissful. Come to the set, get made up for hours with hair and makeup, practice for the theme of the shoot, perform and go home with a smile on my face. The first few years of my career in the industry were extraordinary. My status was rising as I acquired more and more jobs with the top magazines: Marie Claire, Women’s Health, Elle, and even Vogue. I was at the top of my game. Everybody wanted me. It was unbelievably stimulating.

    Then one morning I arrived to shoot for a swimsuit magazine, something I had coveted since I was little. Sitting at the makeup station in my white robe, I greeted everyone with a jubilant smile prepared for the day to begin. I was notified of some extra procedures we would need to do before shooting; I agreed enthusiastically as always, excited for a new experience. They brought me over to the scale, told me to take off my robe and jump on. I’d never weighed myself in front of anyone other than my Mother in my life, but I was ready. The scale read 106. I looked up and smiled saying innocently, “What’s next?”  My manager looked at the photographer, then back at me taking a deep breath in, “To do a swimsuit shoot, you must be less than 100 pounds. Or a BMI fewer than 18, you don’t qualify for either. It’s a regulation. We apologize, but can you fix this issue in 2 weeks? That’s the only time we can book this notorious photographer.” I was stunned. I mean, I knew I had always been skinny, so I had never encountered a problem before. I’d heard rumours about the speculation of the modelling industry, but never believed it to be true. I thought they liked me.

     For months after that incident the scale became my best friend. Every day my routine became harder. Wakeup: have one bottle Kombucha tea, a fermented Chinese tea. Supposedly it has all of these properties for the immune system, metabolism support, and digestion. Followed by one apple, that would suffice. Hit the gym for 2 hours, then the studio. Possibly stopping for a snack of cottage cheese, and drinking more than a litre of water in a day. This worked tremendously for two years. I was asked to participate in Madrid’s Fashion Week: a dream come true.

       I stepped on stage to do a run through of my walk in Madrid; I felt faint. This was normal, apparently. All the models said so. I avoided the mirror on show days so I wouldn’t psyche myself out about how much weight I needed to lose on that day. I had jumped from 98 to 107. With a height of 5”7, an increase of 9 pounds was an embarrassing disaster. As I was walking back to have a team chat before the show began, amidst the hype, I had fainted.

       Waking up in the hospital, I clearly remember my Mother crying. She never wanted this for me. She felt this was her fault, although she warned me, she didn’t monitor like she felt she should have for her baby girl. This broke my heart. My doctor notified my Mother and me of my condition… after running tests and calculating my food intake over the past year; he declared me to have severe Anorexia Nervosa Disorder. It was surreal. He paused and stared at us welling up into tears, and says “Lucy, don’t be ashamed. The reason you have had rapid weight gain over the past month is because… you’re pregnant.”

A trip to Heaven

    The sun has been kind to us. Kissing our cheeks from dawn till dusk. The sky is never grey, blessed with blue. Scenes like a painting, views like a dream. If there were a catastrophic change in the weather, the rain would be gold.

      Set on our blue checkered tablecloth on the patio table (in an adorable manner), is breakfast.  Two plates. One buttered bagel and a glass of a Mimosa; a bowl of Greek yogurt to share. Amazing beginning to a day. The plan for the day was to go for a hike to Zagoria, or maybe Central Peloponnese, so many breathtaking choices. But we were much too comfortable, now sunbathing in netted woven hammocks. Pure bliss.

      “This is naturally peaceful, for once. We work incredibly hard back home and acquire nothing. It is heartbreaking. I never want to return to our hopeless reality,” Lily puts down her drink and picks up a local magazine.                                                                                                                                                                 “I agree,” pouring myself another fresh Mimosa, “going back to my desk job for 8.95$ an hour…is like, definitely not ideal,” I sink back into my hammock letting out a huge breath.                                                                          One of the hotel workers knocked on the side of our door, “hello ladies, my apologies for interrupting, but your 4 o’clock herbal massage has been changed to 1 pm is that alright?” We both smile cheerfully, “Yes!” screeching in unison.

    My life back at home was simple, not good nor bad. But I cannot complain for I am in a trance at this very moment.

      Golden girls we became over the day, beautifully bronzed. Showered with gifts from the local men who fancied us; treating us like royalty. Nothing could upset our fantasy now; we were on top of the world! Well, close enough.

     

      “Hey, Ally… your Mother is on the phone…” Those were the words I did not want to hear right now.                                                                        “Hello? Mom!? What is going on…I told you never to call this number,” I frantically pace back and forth.                                                                         “Alaska Brielle! You listen to me right now young lady!”                            “MOM! I am not a young lady… I’m fifteen! Ugh,” I sighed heavily into a growl. I honestly despise the sound of that woman's voice.                                                  “Listen here miss, we have hired people to search for you ALL over Omaha. This little prank you pulled, is unacceptable! You two better get your butts home this instant…or you will never leave your rooms let alone this country again.” My heart began to pound… All we wanted was a getaway. You know, like in the movies. Steal your parent’s credit cards, book flights to Greece, shop like queens and stay in five star hotels. It totally happens all the time.

     I wish I could be writing this joyful postcard to my parents. But all I ended up with was a severe detention for skipping school and grounding for two months… but I can say one thing, I will never forget my 6 hours in Greece!