Name (required):

  Expression ^{(Optional mood/title along with your name) Examples: (happy, sad, The Joyful, etc.) help)}

  E-mail address (optional):

* Type your message here:
>>Excerpt from <U>Old Dogs</U>, copyright 2008-2009, >>Debi Matlack, all rights reserved. Posted for sharing >>and critique purposes only; does not constitute >>publication. >>************** >> >>Only one stretch of paneling was left, and then >>Valerie could paint. Still unable to decide on an >>interior paint color, she’d given up, leaving the >>battered and patched drywall exposed until she figured >>something out. There were still enough gift cards to >>allow her to paint the whole inside, once she made up >>her mind. At this point, she was willing to paint it >>black if that’s the only color available; anything to >>cover up the worn out wallboard that lay beneath the >>ugly paneling. >> >>“What were they thinking when they put this stuff up?” >>She couldn’t remember; she’d been so young. ><b>Here I had trouble with the sentence first. If she >had been to young how could she have decided something >like that. took me 2 rereads to realise that she >didn't decide than but had alredy been there (if I >havn't misinterpretet it still) </b> >> >>Standing back, she planned her attack. The den was >>still pretty empty; she still didn’t know what she >>wanted to do with this room. Maybe she’d create a >>library; though the long windows down one side and the >>French doors that opened onto the patio limited the >>amount of bookshelves she could put in and would >>expose the books to sunlight. Still, nothing would >>happen until she pried the tenacious paneling off the >>wall. >> >>Locating the seam, Valerie jammed the prybar into the >>crack, then began tapping the hammer on the bar, >>widening the gap. Taser trotted into the room from the >>open front door, then shied away as she thumped the >>prybar harder, struggling with the chore. Now the bar >>was stuck. She banged it a couple more times with the >>hammer, then tossed the hammer aside and grabbed the >>bar with both hands. Leaning her full weight into it, >>she yanked repeatedly. ><b>The paneling is on the wall right? And she is >leaning against the prybar. For my imagery that would >mean that when the paneling comes suddendly lose, she >should bang into the wall instet of falling on her >backside. To fall on her back, for me, she would have >to hang her weight on the prybar instet of leaning >agains it. </b> >> >>Without warning, the chunk of paneling let go with a >>shriek of nails through wood, causing Valerie to >>overbalance. She scrambled backward until her heel >>caught on a rolled-up rug and she went down hard, >>right on her ass. Lightning shot up her spine from her >>tailbone. >> >>“Son of a bitch!” >> >>“I am not.” ><b>Love that part!</b> >> >>Startled, she looked up. Alan stood in the kitchen, >>silhouetted by the light from the front door. He >>stepped toward her and offered a hand. ><b>Somehow I see a big grin on his face here.</b> >> >>“If you weren’t so damned stubborn and let me help you >>once in awhile, you might survive the process intact.” >> >>With a snort of annoyance and humor, she took his >>hand, getting up with great care. Rubbing at the base >>of her spine, she sighed. “You expect me to be >>different after all these years?” >> >>Alan brushed some dust off her shoulder. “Not really. >>You break anything?” >> >>“Just my dignity.” >> >>“Well, it has a rough existence with you anyway.” >> >>“Jerk.” >> >>“Bitch.” Alan grinned. “Much as I would enjoy >>exchanging jabs with you all day, I actually came to >>ask if you wanted to go into town with me. I’ve got to >>pick up that ceiling fan and I know you haven’t bought >>paint supplies yet.” >> >>Valerie nodded. “Give me a second to change clothes.” >> >>“We are going to a hardware store. No need for >>formalwear.” >> >>“Alan, I’ve been at this all morning, I smell like a >>goat.” >> >>“I wasn’t going to say anything…” >> >>“Jackass.” >> >>“I’ll be in the truck.” >> >> >> >>The trip to the home center was laden with jibes and >>jokes and singing with the radio. Alan however, did >>not absorb the family talent for music, despite over >>ten years of exposure to it. His loud rendition of >>“19th Nervous Breakdown” had Valerie covering her >ears. >> >>“Alan, stop, I think they’re bleeding.” >> >>He parked the truck near the garden center entrance >>and switched off the vehicle. “Just because the whole >>Roark clan has impeccable pitch, you can’t handle a >>normal voice.” >> >>Valerie slid from the passenger’s side and shut the >>door, circling around to join him on the other side. >>“Normal?! I just hope Kelly and Kim got their mother’s >>voice. For the sake of humanity.” >> >>Alan faked a swat at her and she dodged around a loose >>shopping cart. As they entered the store, she paused >>in the garden center, her attention captured by the >>riot of colors and textures. >> >>“Val, paint is that way.” He pointed. >> >>“I know. I just need some inspiration.” >> >>Her brother in law shook his head. “You artistic >>types…” He nodded toward the big glass doors. “I’ll be >>in the lighting area. I’ve got my phone on me.” >> >>She nodded, patting the cell phone in her pocket by >>reply and Alan vanished into the dim interior. Back to >>her perusal of the plants, she wasn’t quite sure what >>she was looking for. It was hard for her to resist a >>wander in the garden department, even if she has no >>intention of planting anything new. Even with no >>plans, she often came home with another plant to add >>to the jungle around the patio. But if she were truly >>looking for inspiration, she’d better get on with it. >>Alan would be back soon and bugging her to hurry up, >>like a border collie nipping at her heels. ><b>great image!</b> >> >>Most of the bloom colors were beautiful as flowers, >>but not anything she’d consider as a wall color. >>Bright oranges and pinks were passed over without a >>second glance, grasses and trees went unobserved. A >>native plants section attracted her attention and she >>headed that way. Her foot brushed a hose and the >>slithering sound made her look down, careful of her >>step and bumped into someone coming the other way. >> >>“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention—“ >> >>It was Daniel. He chuckled. “Do you always wander in >>public without looking where you’re going?” >> >>Valerie looked up at him with a grin. “Sorry, Officer, >>it won’t happen again.” ><b>I like that mocking tone here.</b> >> >>He looked around at the plants, his gaze returning to >>her with a speculative glance. “Don’t you have enough >>in your garden already?” >> >>“Nothing’s blooming yet. I think we scared them all.” >>She shrugged. “Actually, I’m here to buy paint.” >> >>Daniel looked at her, then again at the flowers. >>“Right.” ><b>I'm not sure here if that comment is sarcastic or >if he really understands her.</b> >> >>She chuckled. “What about you? I thought you used a >>landscape service?” >> >>“I do.” He shook his head. “But their service does not >>extend to the things growing, or in my case, dying, on >>the front porch. I have two huge pots with dead bushes >>in them. I need something not dead to fill them.” >> >>Valerie brightened. “I can help with that.” She began >>walking toward the shrubs and trees. “Your front porch >>faces east more or less, right?” >> >>“I suppose.” He followed in her wake, touching the >>leaves of the plants they passed. >> >>“Aren’t pilots supposed to know directions and stuff?” >> >>“Sorry, I left my compass in my other trousers.” >> >>Snorting with mild exasperation, Valerie paused by a >>group of small plants. “Based on my observations, I’m >>going to say yes, your porch faces east. That means >>morning sun, but you also have all those big oak >>trees. So, partial sun to shade. And I assume you >>probably want something that thrives on neglect.” ><b>Sounds like my sister. This year she got a small >garden in a glas for her birthday, it only needs to be >wateres once or twice a year and can stand on any >window.</b> >> >>“An excellent assessment. Does anything fit that >>rather narrow set of requirements?” >> >>She began pointing and naming. “Needle palm, bamboo, >>nandina, ponytail palm, various gingers, though they >>usually need more water than the others, croton...” >>She stopped, looking at him, awaiting some kind of >>comment. ><b>I imagin him standing next to her, just nodding and >not knowing about which of the plants she is talking >about. Great!</b> >> >>“What’s that one?” >> >>“This?” >> >>“The weird-looking one.” >> >>“Ponytail palm. You like it?” >> >>“Well, they’re all a bit small, and that one’s weird, >>but I like it.” >> >>“They will grow, big enough to fill the pot. But if >>you’re more of an instant gratification kind of guy, >>as most men are—“ >> >>“Hey!” ><b>Lol</b> >> >>“—I’m sure they have bigger specimens.” >>She led him to the landscape-sized selections and he >>nodded. “That’s more like it.” >> >>“Hasn’t anyone ever told you size doesn’t matter?” >> >>“That’s a myth.” He started to grab a nearby empty >>cart then stopped, his face twisting. >> >>“What?” >> >>“Those won’t fit in my car, even with the top down or >>the boot left open.” Crestfallen, he sighed and pushed >>the cart away. “I suppose I can start with the smaller >>ones…” ><b>Does he always give up that easiely?</b> >> >>“Relax. We came in Alan’s truck. I’m sure he’ll be >>happy to deliver them. For a reasonable fee, of >>course.” >> >>Daniel raised his brows and grinned. “Oh?” >> >>“Yes. And as impressed as I am with your manly brawn, >>I don’t think you’re going to be able to pot them up >>yourself. They’re probably over a hundred pounds >>apiece.” >> >>“So, for an additional, equally reasonable fee, you >>might be willing to assist? With your womanly brawn?” >> >>“Oh, I don’t know.” Valerie inspected her nails, >>buffing them against her shirt. “I’m not cheap.” >> >>“Perish the thought. But, for the right price…?” >> >>“I suppose I could be persuaded.” >> >>He regarded her for a long moment, then his brows >>raised with a wry smile. “Weren’t you here for paint?” >> >>“As a matter of fact, I was.” >> >>He pulled the cart back. “Let me pay for these and >>we’ll go get your paint. Do you already havetape, ><b>(Here a blanc is missing)</b> >>rollers and drop-cloths?” >> >>“Drop-cloths? We don’ need no steenkin’ drop-cloths.” >> >>Daniel sighed. “I can see I have my work cut out for >>me.” ><b>What does he mean here? His plants or her floor >that he sees as dirty and paint staines after >painting?</b> > ><b>I really like the scene, it has a lot of different >dynamics, its fun to read, and this way even such a >boring thing as bying paint becomes something >hilarious.</b>
Choose Message Icon: None :-) Happy ;-) Wink :-D Joy :} Smirk <:-} Innocent ☮ Peace >:) Mischief B-) Shades <3 Heart |O Yawn <:P Sick >:-( Angry :~( Sad ? Question *!* Alert Thumbs Up Thumbs Down (!) Idea [Info] Info Oo. Talk [ View Emoticons ]

Notice: Copies of your message may remain on this and other systems on internet. Please be respectful.