Muse and Masters

Write a scenario using Nighthawks by Edward Hopper as inspiration…

The woman was bored. She shouldn’t have agreed to come here. And for what? To wait, she had been told; more than that she knew nothing. Nobody said something to her. Not Tom, not his friends nor their women. All that was expected of her is to dress up pretty and prance around like a horse in a livestock market. Asking questions were never been encouraged in their set up, persistence can lead to some unpleasant physical interaction which often left her bruised and drained. Was this the kind of dreams she had been chasing since she was a little kid in Nebraska? The reason why she had left her friends and her family? Some days, she wished she was back in the farm where she was born, back in the waitressing job she loathed so much! It all looked heaven to her now in comparison with this… this hell she wormed herself in, in pursuit of a better life, love and happiness. Where are those dreams now? Gone, gone together with her self-respect and pride. She might as well be dead!

Tom was anxious. What taking the soda jerk too long to hand him his package? When he reached under the counter, Tom thought finally he was going to have it but that strange guy with his suit and fedora waltzed in and everything stopped, put on hold. He could hardly contain his irritation, especially when he knew that Grace was starting to get impatient. She didn’t want to come, but he needed her there, for the show, as a decoy; with her presence and looks, she often attracted attention more than he cared about. She was perfect for the job. Now the package and they can all go to bed. Leaving without it was no option. Not if he values his own life.

Sal had gotten the tip from his informer early in the evening. The man said the drop was going to happen tonight, in this diner. He then described the man and the woman who are now sitting opposite him. The description didn’t do her justice though; she was more captivating in person Sal thought. Pity she was in the wrong place at the wrong time and with the wrong somebody. But c’est la vie… causalities of war.

The soda jerk reached under the counter for his gun. He knew that the deal was about to go wrong the moment the guy in the suit and fedora walked in. Sometimes, you got that funny feeling in your stomach and you know it for sure. It was supposed to be his last job. After this he was planning to retire and go back home, or go south. Not that there was something or someone to go back home to. Not since his Pappy blown his Momma away during one of his drunken episodes. Okay, he got his own revenge. He made sure it looked like an accident. No one blinked an eye when one morning they found his old man dead, drowned in the sea. Something like that could happen, especially to someone like his father who seldom sober, accidents happened all the time. Yes sir! It could. Now, all he had to do is: stay alive…

      

Reply To Writing Challenge: Find The Muse In The Masters

Wonderland

I was 7 years old.

It was a very sunny day. The bedroom I was in was the only one in the house. The house was perched on the side of the mountain overhanging the big fast current river below. There were beautiful white rocks there. Some shaped like a table in the middle of the water.

Once I saw a big white deer on top of it looking at me. They said there was one indeed but they didn’t believe I saw it. It supposed to be magical. Only a few chosen ones had seen the animal.

Am I a chosen one? Must be because ever since we arrived my older cousin had shown me a lot of attention. He even called me his missus. I didn’t like the idea and I didn’t like the sound. Now he’s grinning at me from the door.

I watched him walked slowly towards the makeshift bamboo bed and took his place next to me. He reached for the sheet under the pillow and covered us with it. I was paralyzed. I can hear my father and uncle (his father) talking outside. They were laughing.

His hand glided under and found itself between my legs.  Outside that small garment but inside my dress. I closed my eyes tightly and held my breath. The kneading begun and so was my shaking. In my ear, he kept repeating the same words: “Don’t tell anyone. Don’t tell anyone or else…” I could fill in the blank. I knew my father, his ways, and his temper. My cousins must have known it too.

I had no idea how long we were laying there. All that I remember was nothing happened further than that. Maybe he was scared too. I ran outside away from the house, screaming. Everyone looked at me and my father asked what was wrong. My cousin said perhaps I saw something odd again like always or must have had a nightmare.

He was 17…

To be continued…