MatthewJ845's Journal

For a short period of time, I was out of a computer, so needless to say, I was not on.

But I am back, and feeling great!

 Road Closed

Laura was never a presumptuous girl. Hidden behind her long twisted trails of hair, which twisted over her face, lied two eyes of deep capsules of sapphire. Not the kind which showed innocence or naivety, but instead a tainted color of struggle and witness.
    She bend down on her knees to unlace her old converse; beaten and scorn with her many local travels. Meticulously widening the hole, she worked her feet yet one more time into the shoes. Over a pool of linoleum scratched and gouged, she then tied the cloth laces.
    Before venturing out the front door she took one last look behind her shoulder, noticing the eerie way her once warm golden walls were now blue and cold. With her hand on the knob, she then proceeded into the dank winter air of rural Pennsylvania.
    Quietly closing the prodigious wooden door, Laura tip-toed onto the planks of warped wood of the deck she remembered helping her father craft. Like every day, she counted the three large knots embedded into the hearty beige wood.
    One.
    Two.
    Three.
    The steps leading down off the deck were of similar condition; slightly worn, but still resembling their original appearance. Each step screeched irritably as Laura's foot graced it's slightly flexible surface.
    The walk-way to the driveway wasn't a typical one. A wealth of varied sheets of slate made up the whimsical windy trail to the cold absolute asphalt. As if it was left in the care of Mother nature, some sheets bent upwards in corners and down in others. Some were cracked, some missing, all characters Laura recognized.
    Stepping over the jagged corners and compensating in the sunken gullies, Laura navigated towards the unplowed asphalt. Her shabby black Converse made it's first contact with the blacktop, crunching into the untouched snow and ice. The crunch made Laura chuckle a bit inside, and made time pass a bit faster while she located her 1993 Ford sedan.
    Looking back, she noticed her footprints weaving rhythmically through winter's best.  She  wished  she would  have walked along the edges. Damn.
    Using the cuff of her sweater, she carefully wiped off the snow accumulated on her car's windshield and door. As her warm joints plowed through the freshly fallen snow, the melt-off soaked the white hoodie. The now gray cuff annoyed Laura, but she needed to see.
    Opening the door of the relic automobile, she grabbed the key from her pocket and started the engine. The rumbling muffled roar of the well weathered motor vibrated her All-Stars and tremored her thighs. Thoroughly inspecting the gas meter, the oil level, and the water temperature Laura decided to begin her ride.
    The tires of her car smashed the snow and ice into the crevasses of the pavement, creating another trail behind the roaring Ford. In the rear-view mirror, which carried four or five ancient air fresheners, a "God bless this driver" emblem, and some mardi gras beads, Laura could see these parallel prints of black and white. She wished the driveway was plowed.
    Pulling onto the rural community road, serene in it's picturesque promiscuity, Laura trekked away less than half the speed limit into the dank morning horizon.
    Piece by piece, the glacier-like chunks of ice on the roof fell into the black sea below, splattering on contact. By the fourth turn signal, all the snow was gone, finally exposing the minimally weathered roof. The small amount of sun out that day found the roof and gleamed for only those above it to notice. Needless to say, Laura didn't notice.
    Laura caught a glimpse of a blinking safety-orange sign ahead. Upon moving closer, she could then read the words.
    "Road Closed"
    With the deep feeling of disappointment in her head, she tapped her untamed fingernails on the vinyl steering wheel.
    Without thought those damp black Converse floored the loose pedal sending the horses to snort and charge.
    The sounds were overwhelming in the sporty compact's cabin. Vibrations rattled all the possessions within the 93', including Laura. The hood shook and clamored. The wheel bit into the wet wintry ground, propelling the tin car into the unknown.
    With a coy smile on the lips of Laura, her eyed were fixated on the road ahead. She didn't care to look back.

I feel like writing a short story today, so enjoy!

     Behind the ominous mahogany bar, Richard sat deeply observing his cocktail of hard liquor. From his stool came an air of inconspicuous presence, but he enjoyed it all the same. On the other hand, being in his late fifties had brought Richard to believe his life was only of a stealthy significance. Being divorced hadn't entirely slashed his confidence, but had instilled a sense of abandonment.

    The bar was quiet at this time of the day, open only for the regulars. Richard always made it a routine (much like his life) to stop in and have a few after church. Richard couldn't remember what todays sermon was about; life after death, or death after love, but all the same, his yearning for a hearty glass outlasted his concentration. 

    Watching the swirls of amber and gold, Richard lightly shook the glass. He liked the metaphoric way the ice and booze represented a microcosm of his life. Contained within the 8oz. glass was Richard's life. After Barbara had left him two years ago he realized the insignificance of his entire existence. What life is worth remembering without notable deeds? Not his.

    He deeply and truly missed Barbara, the way a dog misses his family. He felt uncontrollably alone in the world he once shared with someone else. He swirled his liquor and took a long gasping gulp. Staring at those cynical cubes of ice, his deep gray eyes felt heavy and full. His eyes lost color recently, drained like a sponge on a napkin. Another gulp. 

    Richard's timid smile was only skin deep, as he recalled first meeting Barbara. He was only twenty years old. He was alone then too. A striking young man at six feet tall and crowning with raven black hair slicked tightly back, he knew he was a catch. Growing up in private schools and having the luxuries of his successful family, he didn't truly know the weights of the real world. His father recently acquired a reasonably sum of wealth and allowed Richard to purchase any car he wished. Richard traveled downstate into a metropolitan of commerce and trade, where he found a car lot of decency he deemed. Richard remembered the unbearably sunny day shining on the windows of the building. He entered. His soft large hands gripped the curved handle of the glass door of the dealership. He pulled it open slowly and entered with an air of confidence and an eye on the slue of  lined up cars within its facility. Straight to the sales counter, in a gingham blue dress sat Barbara legs crossed at the floor. Barbara's legs were partially revealed beneath the desk amusing Richard in a sensual way. It wasn't until Richard was a few feet away that Barbara looked placidly up with a half-conceived sense of interest. Her radiant smile glimmered beads of stunning white, stacked in a parallel form of continuality. Her intensely strong eyes focused right on his and made him feel discontent inside. Her long brown curly wisps graced her shoulders with elegance and class.  It seemed that her movement was in a semi-slowed progression, allowing him more time to examine her utter genuine beauty. 

    "Can I help you sir?" Barbara said in a matronly soothing tone.                                           

    "Yes, can I get a salesman to show me some cars?" He said deep and loud.

    With her eyes fixated on his, she pressed the intercom and requested her father to come out and show him his desires. A few moments later, a man of dignity and pride walked out  Extending his firm hand feet away, he walked with a jouncy stride right into Richard's direction. Richard's amused gaze upon his daughter was snipped and lost as he gave his attention to her father. 

    "Do you want another?", asked the bartender making her routine check to the regular. 

    "Uhh... yeah, why not", Richard replied snapping out of his past, "I'm not going anywhere".

    The bartender's bottles transfered it's toxic elixir into Richard's waiting glass. New ice. New drink. Old routine. Richard threw his dues, and his regular hefty tip, in the bartender's vicinity while eagerly accepting his new drink.  As usual he lighty trod the new beverage with a stir provided and proceeded to gulp. He suddenly came back to the dealership. 

    The man showed him car after car of gorgeous luxury. He loved the smell of the new interior and the way the paint looked recently painted; fresh and pristine. He acted professionally interested in each car, but kept his mind on the stunning blue one in the building.

    After working up his confidence to deter the salesman's interest off the other options, he aggressively inquired about the one inside. The salesman's face showed perplexity as he agreed to show the car in the least. The salesman contemplatively walked the buyer into the building. Richard followed eagerly behind the salesman with his eye on the car inside. Inside, they trod past the sales counter to the closest car, the blue one. 

    Richard marveled at it's gorgeousness. The radiant blue gleamed with the sun shining through the impeccably clean glass. He tuned out the salesman's recital of all it's features. He knew this was the car he was going to take home that afternoon. He grazed his hand over her hood, smooth and perfect. He walked the car over examining every inch, inspecting it's utter beauty and graceful curves. Richard appreciated her exterior and looked past the interior, for he was looking solely for a trophy ride. Disconcerning the salesman's repetitive drone of description, he interrupted, "How much?".

    The salesman looked of fright and nausea. Richard was unaware that the salesman had intended some other man to buy the car.

    "Well, it's very expensive, and I think you would rather see this one over here instead", said the salesman, leading Richard away to an equally impressive red coupe, "it's a beauty".

    "No", Richard demanded, "I'll take this car, she's just what I need" 

    With eyes that displayed the salesman's discontent, he sighed and led Richard to his office.  Richard was proud of his catch, he knew the car was a beauty and modest within it's self. While signing the paperwork and filling out the forms, he kept his mind on the car. When he was through, the salesman told him to "see my daughter for the keys, and take good care of her".

    Richard arrogantly strided towards the daughter to collect his dues. With a sharp smile of content, he reached into his green sports coat and pulled out the recently signed papers. Handing them over to the innocent woman, he collected his keys and another half-intended smile. Richard smiled at the young woman and asked her for a ride, she professionally accepted, but never came back. 35 years later, Richard half-intended to realize that he forgot he sold the car, and lost his wife completely. 

    Richard looked up from his glass and looked at the time. Time seldom passes at such an expedited rate when internal thought is provoked. Richard looked up to see the back of the bartender, mixing more drink for other regulars. When she turned around, Richard gave her a wink, and a smile. The bartender didn't recognize Richard's respectful smile as genuine- for how can one in that industry- and walked away disenchanted. Richard's smile dissolved within his lips an left a bad taste in his mouth. Looking down in defeat, he took one last swig of the remaining liquid and firmly set his glass down. With his trench coat under one arm, hat in other, he left the sunless bar and traveled into the sunny street. He knew how disappointing his attempts would be at that point on.