Saturday, April 2, 2011

Surreal


 The window was wide open causing the unmerciful sun to force his eyelids open as a slight breeze caressed his face. As he regained consciousness he couldn’t help but hear his name being called “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy wake up.” Although it was clearly afternoon, the jack-o’-lanterns across the street on a neighbor’s porch held on to the creepiness that they undoubtedly inspired the night before. As he looked around the brightly lit room, all the furniture was stained white oak and perfectly distressed signaling that it had been mass produced to look as if it was from a much earlier time. Sammy’s eyes seemed to be stuck on the desk directly in front of him, where there was a pale yellow vase holding vibrant pink daisies that popped in contrast to their white wall background. It was strange that on a desk, there was no sign of producing work. As he rolled to the edge of the bed, pulling back the black and white flower patterned comforter he couldn’t help but notice the worn down unpolished hard wood floors that creaked if you didn’t walk light enough. It was then that he noticed the room contained no family photos.  Not even a decorative painting from Wal-Mart, Only blank picture frames that definitely did nothing to jog his memory of the previous night’s occurrences.
Who is she? Where is she? The last thing that he could remember was sitting at the bar attempting to subtly hit on the overwhelmingly attractive bartender when a significantly less attractive woman offered to buy him a drink. He cursed himself for having been so drunk that he could neither refuse the drink nor recall any details about the mystery woman. Still lying on his belly with his right arm and leg dangling off the bed, he reveled in the joy of not having a nasty hang over.
“Good morning!” a voice cheerfully said from the previously closed doorway behind him. Startled, he ripped around to see a plain woman holding a tray containing a breakfast of generous proportion.
“G-go-good morning,” he forced out. Up until this point he had failed to notice that he was completely nude underneath this woman’s comforter. Swelling with embarrassment, he realized he was worried about the woman seeing a body she had most likely explored in depth the night before.
“How did you sleep?”
“Almost like I was in a coma actually…”
“Must have been all the drinks you had,” Bella said as she looked down and slightly to the left.
“Must have been,” he said as if he was actually listening. “Where’s your bathroom?”
“Down the hall, first door on your right.” It was as if she hadn’t even registered his obvious rudeness.
He rose and awkwardly dressed after locating his clothes piled in the corner. She watched intently the whole time. Man, I really wish I had some details to go off of about last night; he thought to himself as he made sure to shut the door and end their staring session. He walked down the hall to the bathroom, which was exactly where the mystery woman said it would be. For some reason, he had doubted her sincerity. After relieving himself and stepping to the sink to wash his hands, the prospect of rifling through her medicine cabinet surfaced in his mind.  He slowly opened the mirrored cabinet above the cold white pedestal sink as to ensure that none of its contents could spill out and make noise.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Character Analysis

The moment of my conception I imagine was a pleasant one, but my parents could not have known what they have just gotten themselves into. My name is Sammy Goodman, Sam for short, and I grew up in the slums of the west coast, better known as the city of Compton. Out here you either gangbang or rapping and most people are doing both. This is why it is rare for anyone to make it out of the ghetto, especially doing something positive. The weather here in California is always seventy degrees and sunny, people say it’s the kind of weather you can wear every item in your wardrobe year around. People around the city say “Sam as much as you wear that Lakers jersey they should be paying you for endorsements” because the only outfit I own has been a number eight Kobe jersey and black Dickie pants. For the past three years I have had to find ways to provide for the both of us. I wish that I could buy new things for Joey and me, but it’s either a new pair of pants or groceries for the week. So shopping isn’t the first item on my list of priorities, number one is taking care of my younger brother Joey.  It is the summer before my senior year at Compton High and all the other seniors are making plans on where they will be attending college the next year and I’m stuck with the decision whether or not I should leave my brother behind with a so-called mother who pretends we don’t exist. Summer is supposed to be the best time of the year for kids and while society would determine that I am a child because of my age, there is nothing about my situation that would agree.