Ten
I feel like I should blog, but I’m not sure what about because I forgot, so I decided to hit up the one minute writer for a prompt. I didn’t notice the Friday Fiction prompts before. They’re typically done in longer than a minute, it seems, but they’re still super short. So I’m picking one and going with it. Who knows, maybe it’ll be adaptable into a screenplay.
So the prompt for this is “ten”. Remember, this is just a solid 5 minutes of impromptu writing, so it carries no guarantees.
Alexander Hamilton gazed about the room.
She rubbed her thumb over his face. The perfectly curled ceremonial hair seemed to contrast the messy, small efficiency that surrounded her.
The girl sat on her futon bed, surrounded by things strewn about. A magazine. Textbooks. Some papers. Laptop. Bills. Mostly bills. The studio was a box with a window, a desk, and little more. The closed door hinted at more, but only a small bathroom and kitchenette lay beyond it.
The girl sat perfectly indian style on the bed, looking at the ten dollar bill in front of her. She moved her hand back into her lap. She seemed far away as she met Alexander’s gaze back.
My last ten dollars, she thought.
How did this happen? Didn’t I plan? How can I survive the week on ten dollars?
The girl was young with light skin and dark hair. Her face was blank, but her eyes were disappointed. Disappointed in herself, mostly. In the corner of her room, out of sight, was a framed degree. She thought about all that time and money she spent in college. All that work for a better life.
And now I have ten dollars for 6 days. Not even $2 a day.
She decided to make a list of everything that wouldn’t be paid this week.
Car Payment – $200
Student Loan Payment – $145
Groceries – $50
Gas – $20
She stopped. She was overwhelming herself and hadn’t even gotten to the tough ones. Internet. Electricity.
I can’t go to work if I don’t have gas in my car. I can’t live in here without electricity. Can I go 6 days on bread and peanut butter? Yes, but the bread is going bad.
Stop.
She surveyed the room. Her belongings. Very few. Framed photos and signs of friends and family are absent. No one to help me, she thought.
She glanced back at the stiff, new ten dollar bill. Then she glanced out her window. The snowy wonderland outside beckoned mysteriously. It seemed so rich and new. So pristine. There was a whole world outside her tiny box and her tiny problems. She rose up from the bed, letting the papers fall where they may. Alexander hit the floor face down.
She opened her window, her only window, and stuck her head outside into the cold afternoon air. A biting wind blew her hair back. She seemed to take in this world and replace her own, if only for a moment. She closed her eyes and breathed the cold. She let the cold air into her mouth and lungs, nipping at her nose and eyes. The cold was pure, nearly unbearable pure.
She leaned back inside and slammed the window shut. Stood for a moment, returning her sense to the stuffy box she knew as “home”. She walked slowly back to the bed, a new glint in her eyes. Was it hope? Inspiration? Confidence? Or was it acceptance?
She returned to the bed, grabbing the thin, papery ten dollar bill as she sat back. She leaned against the wall and laid Alexander across her lap. She grabbed a pack of cigarettes from her side and took one out – the last one. Lit it. Took a drag. The smoke danced around Alex’s face. She lifted the bill up and held it between in thumb and forefinger delicately, looking closer and closer at the presidential portrait. He kept the same blase expression no matter what she felt. She felt a twinge of jealousy for a moment.
She took the lit cigarette out of her mouth and ignited the corner of the bill. The paper hesitated, then grabbed onto the fire and fueled it. The bill slowly transformed from currency to ash. The girl held the bill and watched it burn. Her face had warmed, but her eyes remained cold and determined.
Alexander’s face was turned to dust, but somehow he didn’t care.
Filed under: Uncategorized on February 6th, 2010
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