Monday, August 12, 2013

Valley Kitcher - Pocket Fiction

I was going through my dresser this morning and found something I wrote on a scrap of paper over a year ago. Did I ever tell you that I find my writing everywhere? Just scraps of things? I don't remember writing this, but I remember this character that I made up because I've been playing with her since she came along. I put her in different scenes and try her out in them to see how she fits. I haven't found her story yet, but I know about her name.

Her name was Valerie but when she was a little girl she didn't like it because it was too girly. She liked Valley, because it was practically the same name if you took out the "r" and because a valley was so much bigger than a Valerie. She felt like she could really be in the world with a name like that, stretching over miles without any pressure of being something that she wasn't.

So here's what I wrote, and if it's not so good, please be kind. I wrote it all off the top of my head and probably found it in my pocket and tossed it in my dresser at the end of the day:

Valley pulls a piece of paper out of her pocket. It's a receipt for chips and a Mocha Java at a Chevron and she wants to write on it, but she has to keep it and record it in her checkbook because every dollar counts.

But she wants to write "Molly" on it. She wants to push the pen down so hard that it tears the paper. Molly's name cut into paper the way it cuts and shreds into her mind. But that's not enough. She needs to force Molly's name out of her. The need is suddenly so great, she thinks she'll scream and she's standing in the middle of the library. It occurs to her that she could fake a sneeze but "Molly" doesn't have a sneezy sound. Not like "Ashley" or some other name with an "a" and an "sh" in it.

So she runs to the bathroom, like she can't hold it in anymore, scrambles into a stall, crams a ball of toilet paper over her mouth and screams, "Mooooollllllly!"

And now it's out and now she's crying, loud, heaving sobs, and now someone's walking into the bathroom, and the thought of someone hearing her cry is more embarrassing than the scream so she stuffs the toilet paper into mouth.

She takes a deep breath to calm herself down and sucks in the toilet paper.And now she's gagging.

She bends over, retching the wet, flimsy paper into the bowl, scratching bits of it off her tongue. And she wonders if she'll ever be in a relationship where she doesn't throw up at the end of it.

I need to do more with Valley. Poor thing, I could have atleast sent her to Starbucks for coffee instead of a Chevron.

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