6/25 Quickie-Do you have the nerve?

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Registered: 12-12-2003
6/25 Quickie-Do you have the nerve?
Fri, 06-25-2004 - 3:16pm

I've been impressed by the quality of work I've seen through these quickies, but one thing has really bothered me.



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Registered: 01-27-2004
Fri, 06-25-2004 - 8:21pm

OK, Lynda, here goes:

Robert passed her desk with a glance her way.

Avatar for so_snoopy
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Registered: 03-26-2003
Sat, 06-26-2004 - 6:27am
Hi ladyirish

This might not be what u want to hear but i read your thing i really didnt feel like you put your passion into it.. it felt like you were trying but the emotion just wasn't there maybe others will read it different to me but thats my opnion. Maybe a personal experience might help you get the emotion out. ie. your first love that broke your heart.. how did it feel can you remember that day how did you feel do you have a picture of him it might bring up feeling... just an idea. Hope you dont mind me being critizing.

Snoopy / Claudette

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Registered: 03-27-2003
Sat, 06-26-2004 - 10:11am
As soon as they pulled up in Cheryl’s driveway, they saw Frank Jones waiting for them. He had a shotgun, and he pointed it at the driver-side door of the pickup.

Nick's heart started to pound. Even before he took Cheryl home, her announcement had left a tense feeling at the base of his neck. As he stared down the business end of her father's shotgun, that tension spread all through his neck and shoulders. For a second, he wondered if his life would end right there in the Jones' driveway. In that second, he fantasized not about his own life, but of that he would miss with his unborn child.

“Hands up, Nick!”

“Hey, be careful with that thing!," Nick screamed, his eyes wild with fear. "You don’t have to shoot me! I promise I’m going to take care of your daughter, Mr. Jones.”

This is cool. I will check this out further when I get a job or get my free-lance business really going. Too bad I lost my job right when this started.
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Registered: 01-27-2004
Sat, 06-26-2004 - 11:58am
Er...this is personal experience.


...There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for...

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Registered: 02-18-2004
Sat, 06-26-2004 - 12:03pm

The minute hand had just passed the 3:00am mark, I could hear him snoring next to me and I could smell the raunch breath he omitted on every exhale.

iVillage Member
Registered: 12-19-2003
Sat, 06-26-2004 - 12:53pm
Tracy opened her eyes. The room presented itself in shadows created by the filtered light from the street lights. It took a second for her to focus. As she snuggled back under the covers she wanted the dream back and reached for the comforting arms of sleep. When she heard a sound it was soft not something threatening but it disturbed the rythm of her home. She was completely awake. She held her breath as she listened to see if anything followed. There it was again, a little louder this time. Someone was in the house with her. She felt as if her heart stopped beating for a moment then began at a rapid rate as she breathed out quietly. The floor board on the top step creaked as it always did. My god he is only three steps from my room was her thought. She closed her eyes again and forced herself to lay quietly feigning sleep. The door opened slowly. She felt the small beam of light as it played across her face. The door closed softly as if he wanted her to continue sleeping as he searched the house.

She waited a few seconds before she opened her eyes. She felt certain that he had moved to the next room. A black outline at the window showed her she was wrong. He was still in the room. He watched her as she opened her eyes, waiting for her reaction. His low chuckle sent shivers down her spine. "My you are a pretty one aren't you?" His voice rasped as if his larnyx was made of sandpaper. "I knew you weren't sleeping."

Someone once asked Tracy what it would take for her to be totally silent for a full minute. Try as she might, nothing came to her. Now she knew. She prayed that she was just having a nightmare. As she felt the leather glove touch the side of her face she knew it was real. Someone was making a high pitched keen like a child who was cornered by a strange animal. It took her a second to realize it was her.

She tried to think of something to use to protect herself. No knife lay under the pillow nor was there a gun in the bedside table. She shuddered flinching away from the hand as it touched the other side of her face.

"My pretty one, did the cat get your tongue?" he whispered again directly in her ear. "Remember who you belong to, I can come here anytime." He held her head with his hand and slowly licked the side of her face.

Edited 6/26/2004 12:58 pm ET ET by brigitroseo3

Edited 6/28/2004 4:17 pm ET ET by brigitroseo3

Edited 6/28/2004 4:21 pm ET ET by brigitroseo3

Avatar for jennaca_51
iVillage Member
Registered: 05-14-2004
Sat, 06-26-2004 - 8:01pm
**This is the beginning of a story I am currently

trying to write. It is just an embryo. I thought

I'd share because it seems to fit your quickie.**

It was starting to snow when Ernestine McKay slammed her car door and stomped up the flight of stairs leading to her loft. She grabbed her mail from her mailbox and tossed it on the coffee table in her living room without looking at it. All she could think of was unwinding. She wanted to wash this bad at day at work out of her hair, expunge the memory forever with soft lights, soft music and a light supper. This seemed like a plan that she would seriously consider executing in about 5 minutes. She smiled to herself as she sank into her couch, kicked off her shoes and loosened the buttons on her jacket. She waited patiently for the ache in her head and the tension in her shoulders to leave her.

The prospect of being alone, with only her cat Cleo for company, on a snowy, wintry night, irked her. It didn't take much to irk Ernestine these days. Ernestine rose from the comfort of her couch, grumbling and mumbling under her breath. She tiredly shuffled towards the kitchen where she snapped on the light and took from her fridge the makings for a salad. Ernestine grabbed the homemade soup she’d made earlier in the week and with a butter knife she smeared some garlic butter on the French bread which she was planning to toast in the oven. When the coffee started to burble, she turned her gaze to the kitchen window, her attention suddenly caught by the escalating snowstorm outside. Violent weather had always appealed to her, and she smiled and silently acknowledged her long standing kinship with raging tempests such as this one. The storm matched her current misery quite nicely. The snow was being whipped into a fine frenzy by the wind and she, Ernestine had whipped her dissatisfaction with her life into a full blown 30 something crisis. It seemed so fitting that a snow storm would be the symbol by which Ernestine fully admitted that she detested her life wholly. Her job as a librarian was merely the first sign of her discontent. Ernestine wished she could reinvent herself. She wished for instance that she could change the way she looked. She was too skinny, her nose was too big, her lips were too thick, and her hair was too brown and too straight. She longed to wear outrageous clothes. She longed to be wild and carefree. She ached for something different, something exciting and something new. Her personality, she thought, could do with a major overhaul as well. She wanted to be joyous, not morose. She wanted to laugh, not cry. She wanted love and she wanted an end to loneliness. She wanted the world as her oyster. She wanted it all and all she had was this, this horrible loft, this horrible job and this horrible life. She rued the monotony of getting up miserable everyday, angry everyday and frustrated everyday and yet each day she awoke to her mind-numbing, unexciting life. Tears threatened to overwhelm her as she dismally thought that there was little she could do to change her mere existence on this earth. She shrugged, sighed, gnashed her teeth and then as always, even tonight, she wiped her tears and prayed for a miracle.

iVillage Member
Registered: 06-26-2004
Sat, 06-26-2004 - 8:57pm
She stepped off of the scale, in shock, throat closing in a disappointment-induced panic. Was it possible? Five pounds in three days? She was at the heaviest of her life. And she was getting heavier by the second, so it seemed at this point. Ignoring her brain’s demand she not step on the flat plastic tray again, she put first her right, then her left foot onto the scale. She looked down, eyes widening in revulsion at the number appearing on the digital readout. A number that had been climbing steadily for months, only to peak today at one she thought she’d never reach.

“Oh, my god,” she cried out, tears welling up in great pools in the corners of her eyes. Not one to talk to herself at great length, her brain took over the monologue: This can’t be right. I can’t be here, this can’t be me. You know what this means. You’ve got even fatter, and now it’ll be even harder to lose the weight. You’re hideous, and you know it.

She jumped off the scale, eyeing it in horror, hands digging into her hair and pulling fiercely as the tears spilled over her eyelids, drenching her cheeks. She turned to the mirror, and the person looking back at her repulsed her. She eyed that person critically, angrily thinking of all the things wrong with her she possibly could. Red-faced and fat. Puffy, too short hair on top of a head that was out of proportion with the body below it. Tiny, ugly breasts over a distended belly that made her look pregnant. The list went on, and as she thought of more and more flaws, she cried harder and harder until she shook and snot flowed freely down her face.

She walked haggardly into the bedroom, looking around helplessly and sobbing uncontrollably. Thoughts of liposuction tortured her, and at last blew her nose violently, knowing full well she couldn’t afford it. She viciously cursed the FDA for making ephedra unacceptable. Realizing there was no quick solution, she tried to think of other things she could do to make herself beautiful. She could...she could use the exercise tape twice a day, and that meant six miles; she could put herself back on Weight Watchers (only twenty points a day would make the weight come off quicker), and definitely no more chocolate covered almonds (but they made her feel better!) would find their way into the house. Other thoughts flooded her; she decided she ought to make record of them and located a pen and notebook.

As she feverishly listed her weight loss goals, wrote down vegetables she could tolerate, and calculated how long it would take her to lose the weight if she lost two pounds per week, she calmed. Her sobbing was reduced to sniffles. She shook only slightly now, still cold and lonely, afraid of failure, riddled with self-hatred. The episode over, she focused her energy on her lists and plans, hoping today’s surge of anger at herself and deep depression was the last.
iVillage Member
Registered: 06-27-2004
Sun, 06-27-2004 - 12:50pm
Okay, I'm new here. How is this?

If I don’t open my eyes, if I don’t get out of bed, if I don’t put on that dress, maybe this will be a dream. The people gathered in my house will be here to celebrate a birthday or a promotion. The new black dress hanging in the corner will be adorned with a single strand of pearls instead of carrying no frivolous accessories.

As long as my eyes are closed I can believe the reason my husband is not in this bed is because I am running late and he is annoyed with my tardiness. He is tapping his foot and smiling just out of my eyesight. I open my eyes to look for him in the room. The plain gold band on the nightstand confirms my grief and I again close my eyes. I roll over and breathe the last of his scent from his pillow. I am lost in his musk that has been my aphrodisiac for over 20 years.

But if I wake up I will have to face my new existence. I will have to remember that the people are here to mourn his passing.

Let me keep my eyes closed for another moment. Reality can wait for me to catch up.

Then I can face those people and this day and the new life I must face without him.


iVillage Member
Registered: 12-12-2003
Sun, 06-27-2004 - 5:23pm

I apologize.