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The Biker and The Granny (Excerpt) Work in progress

Permanent Linkby eddieblz on Mon Dec 10, 2012 11:55 pm

2 am comes too... early. With a rocking motion he swings his feet toward his left and over the side of the bed. The momentum pulling him up into a sitting position, his feet hanging loosely over the side. Reaching over he taps the button on top of the alarm, quieting it's screeching sound. ( He's never been one to hit the snooze, it's just better to get up all at once and get it over with... at least thats what he's always figured.) Now he rotates his feet at his ankles as they hang their and twists his shoulders back and forth loosening himself to be ready to take the weight of his body when he stands. "Man it sucks getting older. I'm just not impressed at all", he mumbles to himself. Then off the bed he slides on to his feet straitening himself into a standing position then gingerly walks around his bed to the bathroom, not wanting to stub his toe on something in the dark. Those early morning toe stubbing's are the worst.
As he enters his bathroom closing his eyes he reaches over and with the tip of his finger, he flicks the switch up, turning on the light. Then he slowly opens his eyes, squinting at first then slowly widening them until his eyes are fully open. "wouldn't want to go blind, that would suck", he quietly chuckles to himself. He then walks over to the sink, putting his hands on it, he leans over and stares at himself in the mirror. He studies the lines on his face that have grown deeper as he has grown older and then looks at his salt and pepper hair. "My God I've turned into my grand dad", He sighs.
Suddenly he remembers something that brings an evil grin to his face... "I get to ride a hog... Every day of my life, I gets to ride a hog". then He says to himself, "Man it's great to be me and it suck to be them, having to drive in a cage every day of their sad lives". Suddenly his day is bright. With a little hop in his step he proceeds with his morning ritual, readying himself for work.
2:42 am says the digital clock on the stove. She stares at the two dots between the 2 and the 42 as they blink on and off. she used to watch the second hand as it moved perpetually on her wall clocks in years past, now it's just the two dots... Blinking dots... "this just doesn't have the same feel", an irritated thought passes her mind. Then her thoughts begin to wander. Sad and aimlessly they wander. She painfully lifts the cup of coffee that she's been cradling in her hands, slowly, up to her lips and takes a long almost pained sip. The cup lingers in front of her face for a moment as if frozen in time, she then brings the cup back down to the table, slow and deliberate. Then Staring at the clock again, her eyes begin to gloss up, a tear forms growing larger, steadily, in the corner of one her eye's. It then roles over the edge of her lower lash and dances slowly and sadly down her cheek, moving one way then the other, down to the edge of her jaw where it hangs on a moment, lingering, as if not wanting to fall. Finally it lets go and drops. You see it's only been 1 week 2 day's 6 hours and 42 minutes since her husband of 63 year died. It was sudden. He never had so much as a cold in his life. Never sick, always active. Just the day before, they were at their grandsons house. He was helping to put up a shed in the kids back yard. They had a barbecue. When they both got home he wasn't even tired. They even had a moment of intimacy before they went to sleep. The next day she got up before him, made breakfast, then she came back to the bedroom, she was almost skipping and life was good. Then she tried to wake him... "How could this have happen, leaving me alone like this... I didn't even have a chance to say goodbye. I'm the one who was always sick. I was suppose to go first" She then cries softly for a moment, bitterly but softly.
Then she composes herself. Takes a deep breath, a shaky breath. Then exhales strong and fast. Now, looking at the top of the kitchen table that she has been sitting at, she eye's the brochure laying loosely, crookedly, at the center of the that table. An evil, disgraceful piece of work. Angry, irritated, hurt, not wanting to touch or even to acknowledge it's wicked existence, she eye's that brochure, as if it were an enemy preparing to do her harm. Now she begins to think, "How could they even consider this... A nursing home? I raised them! Then suggesting an estate sale? All my cherished memories gone?! How could they! Even scheduling an appointment with a specialist to test for dementia? Trying to force the issue? Six Kids twenty-two grandchildren countless great grandchildren and even a couple of great great grandchildren and they all call her Granny. How dare they. Her kids and grandkids, all grown with very good jobs, big houses, we spent all our resources to send them to the best schools and to make sure they and their spouses were set... and they... they want to throw me away and forget about me!... how could they". She weeps again. Then she stands, swiftly grabs hold of the brochure but with just two fingers as if she were a child picking up a siblings soiled piece of underwear. Then she strides out of the kitchen, to get ready for the day. As she passes the trash can, she drops that evil paperwork in.

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RE: The Biker and The Granny (Excerpt) Work in progress

Permanent Linkby jnbrownlee on Tue Jul 09, 2013 11:34 am

You write extremely well! How interesting this is. I want more.
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