[I want desperately to be skilled at painting pictures with words. Studying what I’ve written for the first draft of my first-ever book, I’m acutely aware of how inept my writing really is. I still want to write my story, but I need to develop my abilities at this craft before I get much further in my project.]
Fall came with a vengeance this year. September hadn’t been much different. The wind started to gust as Leah made her way up the county road to her cousin’s. I wonder if we’re in for a brutal winter, she thought, gingerly dancing around the puddles of water.
Living without her own transportation demanded her realization of how easy life had been six months ago. She drove her car everywhere then, not giving a second, or even a first thought to how she’d get around once the lease was up. How was she suppose to know that her hours at the shop would be cut back so drastically? Like most people, tomorrow had not been much of a worry. Life lessons were being learned.
Leah hugged her arms around her. The trench coat kept her dry but the insulation in it was inadequate. It was all she had for the time being though. What will I wear when the snow comes?
Daily life wouldn’t have been so grueling if she had chosen to live in a city where there was public buses, convenient stores, and studio apartments. Instead, she decided to live in a small town so she could be close to family. Sure, it would have been nice if her cousin could have put her up, but she was living with five other young women in old Victorian house a little ways out from the city limits. There just wasn’t any more room in that residence for a sixth person.
The rent was cheaper in this town, but the pay at any job was less too. There she was, a legal secretary, and she was working at a gardening shop. She had taken all the extra hours she could during the warmer months, but with fall in full swing, the hours the shop was even open had dwindled to a mere six hours a day during the work week, and it wouldn’t be any better until sometime in February.
Leah heard the rumbling of a truck coming around the bend. Getting nearer, she glanced behind her. The headlights of the garbage truck glared relentlessly at her. She scampers off the narrow country road stumbling into the dank thickness of the woods beyond the pavement. Something tried to ambush her from above sending her into a panic. Frantically, she waved her arms and hands above her, shrieking and disheveling her hair. Bringing her arms down again, she peered at her hands. They were covered in cobwebs.
“My Gawd! Yuck! How disgusting,” she said, gathering a few wet maple leaves to wipe her hand off with.
She scurried up the small incline back to the road and brushed herself off with exaggerated movements. Of all days to make a quilt, it just had to be this one, she mumbled with frustration. She stood straight with her hands clenched at her side.
She looked up into the rain, and took a cleansing breath.
After adjusting her shoulder bag draping diagonal across her torso, she continued her march down the road.
Yes, unfinished but not done. Give me any feedback you feel comfortable expressing. I’m ‘all ears’.
The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter — it’s the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning. ~Mark Twain, letter to George Bainton, 1888