tigresslilly

For the last time, our marriage is nothing like “Taxi”. You are not like the woman in that song. That woman had the balls to leave the man she loved and hunt her dream with everything she had and you clung to the first stable thing you could find. That woman might have lost hard but she gambled big when have you ever taken a gamble in you whole life? What have you done that isn't completely calculated, planned, and stacked in your favor? If you had ever been serious about acting you would be out at all the extra and little part auditions you could find. We're twenty minutes out of LA and you've never been able to even be an extra! And you come home and you smile and you dance parading around over one audition. Am I supposed to dance around with you? Am I supposed to drop my dreams, my life, my career to support this wisp of hope? I arranged that audition for you as a gift and instead of being satisfied you keep asking for more. 'Don't run in the next election darling, I'll need support for my blossoming career,' you say. Has it ever occurred to you that as mayor, I've used my pull to keep you the lead in the play house?! Have you ever wondered why out of all the women at the auditions there you're chosen. Let me tell you it isn't because you look the part or even just look well in general sweetheart.
These are all the things I do for you. And all I ask in return is that you stand next to me during my campaign and smile. Is that so fucking much? Can it really be too hard for you to manage? Are you really so self centered that you would destroy your best chances at becoming a star just so you can appear to have a trophy husband?
No, here's what's going to happen. You're going to smile and prance around about your audition. You'll go and you'll get the part. Maybe you'll actually get another gig or two on your own from this one for once. But then you'll come home to me. You'll smile your Hollywood smile on my campaign platform and I'll take the race.

Jessica Donegan wasn't the best kind of person, but she wasn't the worst sort of person either. I would like to take this time to sing her praises, but unfortunately I cannot. Jessica Donegan was a stranger to me and to most of us in this room, but most of all she was a stranger to herself. Always a work in progress, each of us was drawn to Jessica at different phases in her life, and each of us were discarded after those phases were done. She ran through personalities the way most of us run through seasonal style. Each was so different and singular that there is little for us to recognize of her former self once she changed.
When Jessica was with us she was dynamic and ever changing. She appreciated each moment and lived in that instant. For those around her, it made us feel particularly special important. We felt as if we were the world to her, and for that instant, we were. She seemed to have an enjoyable life and she brightened the lives of those she interacted with. I sincerely hope her soul is in a better place.

Writing exercise: Immitate style of “I talk to Hunter”

You will watch you best friend grow silent and be very confused. After all, you've known her for a good two years and adversity usually makers her louder and more indignant than before.

When she stops returning your calls and deletes your emails before reading them, you'll begin to wonder what you've done. You haven't seen her all summer, and she hasn't tried to see you. You know she's going through a rough time with her boyfriend, she may have even broken up with him by now. You can't be sure. She won't pick up a phone and tell you what's going on.

You'll have no way of reaching her, and you will decide to let it go until you see her in the fall. This will prove to be a terrible idea on your part. You will expect her to move into the dorm room as your room mate, and when some bond chick with short hair you've never met before insists she's your room mate, you will know something is terribly wrong. You will call your friend right away, and again you will hit voice mail. You will know that she is deleting her voice mails because other wise your messages would have filled the voice mail by now. You will be angry at her, but you will be scared too.

You will leave the blond new and probably bad room mate to unpack at her own leisure, and you will search out your friend's boyfriend. It will be confirmed that he is an ex. It will infuriate you that this stranger will talk to you when your best friend won't. You'll be frustrated when he shakes his head at you and says “You see why we had to break up. She was so unstable and unpredictable. How can you base a relationship off of such carelessness?”

Of course you won't respond to him. After all, what can you say? Your friend has left you out of the loop, and with no information, you can't defend her from this attack. You're sure that the ex is being an ass. He's done something terrible. After all their break up is the only thing that you can think of, that might make your friend act this way.

The news will only get worse when you go down to housing services and realize your friend moved out of your room into a different dormitory facility without telling you. Why wouldn't she have called you? Certainly she has to know that you would have been on her side...Unless of course she's done something you can't side with.

And this idea will make you wonder. Because she has always been such a good clean stand up girl, what is it that she could have done that has her too scared to tell you about it. You know she does lots of things she doesn't share with you, and you let her think you don't know. She would be so embarrassed if you knew. But she's never stopped talking to you before. She's never ignored you before. You have no idea what to do. And what can you do, when a friend of yours won't respond to you?

No one would glimpse the inner workings of the home from the street. The windows were large and many. If one stepped in the house, one would notice all the natural lighting that each room enjoyed even on over cast days. There was so much sun, that the back roof had solar panels on it to fuel the furnace with--or the back roof did have solar panels until the solar furnace company closed and moved away. All the solar paneling had to be thrown out, there was no one in the area to maintain it, and so the furnace became completely oil dependant. A decision that may have led to regrets shortly after September eleventh when oil prices started sky rocketing. Regardless, the home's lack of visibility has nothing to do with the amount of windows. It was set to far back and the scenery in between was littered with so many trees, people are lucky to even discern a house there at all.

Not that the world was missing much. The rooms facing the street, while well decorated, are nothing particularly special. Friends rave that they just adore the palm tree theme in the living room, but really it has more to do with that room's recent theme update and a mandatory societal law to comment positively on such a change. The room could have become an obsessive fan Star Trek theme or a conservative Christian themes with large pictures of the crucifixion or the rapture and those same people would have gone on ceaselessly to what a wondrous new look was implemented.

Any attempts at interesting people observations from those living in this home would always have been fruitless. Even with all the intrinsic privacy granted by the location of the home, personal matters only go one after the shades are closed. This could be a call for complete privacy and sanctuary in one's home or it might just be that the police car parked across the street that has its headlights shining into the second floor made the adolescent girl uncomfortable while she changed.

She walked with a high head into the abandoned alley. Only sixteen and already she knew these dark areas like most girls her age knew their school hallways.
She was beautiful with dark violet eyes and a long, wild, black hair that was parted at the side and glistened under the low lamp lighting. Her outfit consisted of a long black skirt with slits up the sides to her hips. Through the slits, one could glimpse a topaz garter garnished in black lace on her right thigh. The garter matched the plastic beads dangling from the strapless top with a pointed bottom, and her jeweled earrings with long dangling gold chains. Around her neck was a gold choker with a locket given to her by her only love.
At first glance this girl looked cool and confident, but certain subtleties gave this away. Her skirt was ripped from her heels, and she was out of breath from running. The golden chain of her earrings were tangled in her hair that was slightly mussed from the slight wind. Flushed cheeks and a slight panting implied some sort of swift flight.
She was not nervous any longer, but cornered. She prepared herself for some awful fate. They had killed her lover. He had brought her into this softly woven world. He was a Prince of the night, with beautiful pale creamy skin, brilliant sky blue shimmering eyes, and shockingly blond hair. He had worn fine silk shirts of all dark colors, but his favorite color of attire was maroon. She had thought he was an illusion made of dreams and dark desires when they had first met. This mysterious man had filled her house with long stemmed black roses. She could still remember the sent of those roses. He had carried her into his dark world filled with so many sparkling romantic ways, but there was always this chance.
She remembers the last minutes before they came and slaughtered him. He had come in to their apartment bringing her a dozen blood red roses. It was her birthday, and he had plans for them to go out to a beautiful restaurant, and then the theater. He had bought a ring with a black rose on it to give to her, but she did not know of this.
His eyes were bright and alert and excited about the night. They had kissed, and she remembered her delight at the roses. She had remarked on how they were similar to the rusty red shirt he had worn tonight. He had worn that shirt especially for her. She had bought it for him, and loved it on him. She had gone to get her purse, and left him alone for just a moment.
Then they burst in, and she heard the yelling. Carefully she peaked into the other room. They were there dressed in stark white, so bright and shining it hurt her eyes. They used old fashioned weapons, well the girl who attacked did. It was a long curved silver blade, and the others stood pointing their guns at him in case he dared to retaliate. He turned bloody and missing an arm.
“Run my love!” He had yelled.
As the girl in white raised the sword and jammed it through his heart, his beautiful dark princess turned and ran out the fire escape to the streets. Tears had filled her eyes as she fled down the black alleys knowing nowhere she went would be safe.
Not that she wanted to be saved. They had killed him, and she would not go on without him. How could they? He had done nothing to any of them. She was the one who had run away from home to be with him. It was she who had dropped out of school, why was he the one attacked?
If only she had known those were their last moment together. She would have told him how much she loved him. She would have made the kiss really have counted. But it was gone, all gone now.
She had stopped walking in this dark alley, and waited for them to find her. It would not take long. Here, where the smell of rotting garbage and sewage infiltrated her nostrils, she tried to smell the sweet roses that had always surrounded her. She envisioned him here with her. He wore his blood red silken shirt, and held her in his warm strong arms while whispering reassuring thoughts to her. The alley way had disappeared. The two of them were up in the night sky surrounded by the stars. They had the rays of the moon to light their path, but she needed no light to follow him.
“We have finally caught you,” called the girl in white as she drew her cruel curved silver blade again.
The two girls were different, though both lovely. The one in white wore a silk dress drenched in lace. She had a silver striking snake band on her upper left arm. A plain silver anklet glistened, though it was barely seen due to her dress length. She could scarcely be past twenty but her light purple eyes shown with immense suffering and pain. The short strawberry blond hair curled about her face, as if to hide herself from this world.
“Why?” asked the cornered one barely above a whisper.
The other laughed at her opponent’s stupidity. “Why,” She repeated mockingly, “because you two are of the dark. We have sworn to protect all from the evil blackness, and to do that I must hunt out you.”
“He did nothing to you!” she exclaimed enraged. “Nothing to you or whoever your kind is. I have done nothing to you! How dare you take innocent blood in the name of justice! Not all in the dark crawls and certainly not all in the light is pure.”
“Shows what you know,” replied the other. “He has killed many people; some were good and some evil. We have tracked him for years, and finally caught him. Didn’t you see how black his soul was? He would have tired of you soon, and then you would have been killed too, just like those before you. He was no more than a monster in gentleman’s clothes.”
“No,” she shrieked, “liar! He loved me I love him! He would never...”
BANG. One of the men carrying a silver gun shot her before she could finish.
“Why did you do that?” the girl in white asked turning puzzled to her comrade.
“I didn’t see the reason to be so cruel to her. She was in love with him. Sometimes the truth hurts more than the illusion. Why not let her die believing her love returned the sentiment? Who can say, maybe he truly did. There’s nothing to be done here lets go home,” he added, and they all walked off.
The night was ending, but not for the dead. She had been reunited with her love, and he held her in is warm strong arms, whispering reassurances to her. They would be together eternally among the black night sky studded with stars. They would remain where evil did not matter,