Play ball

Arguments over a small white ball tossed through the air; men conveniently lacking shirts tell each other that they are worthless pieces of shit in the most loving way possible. Someone has made an artistic statement on the beach, propping scattered rocks on their ends-I am NATURAL the statement screams, I am ART. I do not appreciate it.

All the benches are full, I perch myself on the end of MY bench, the other end is currently occupied by a woman with leathery skin. She clutches a cell phone and repeats the same lines into it over and over again. "Hello, this is Lupe, it's Sunday and I don't know if you're working or what..." She leaves after her fifth call, and her place is soon occupied by a boy of nine or ten. I am suddenly very aware of my jean skirt and low slung tank top.

It could easily be four months ago, really. If I close my eyes all I hear are the smacks of the whiffle ball and the buzz of idle chatter-could be gossip about spring semester and house parties and dirty deeds. But I know these people are simple by default: they are on vacation and the only vocabulary at their disposal contains words such as "quaint" and "scenic" and "overpriced." Such simple things should be comforting after the way I longed for them for months. I should take pleasure in the white sails tacking back and fourth, the warm breeze, the pitter pat of gravel under jogger's feet.

But this is not what I came here for. I want to explode, to scream and cry and dance all at once. I want to know what I had that he took from me, because every time I come to this bench I have lost something more. Last time I was here it was raining and I thought I had lost it all. Silly girl to be so sure of anything.

Someday perhaps he will gather all of my hints together and find his way here-read these sentiments and laugh laugh laugh at the power he had and how I believe everything whole-heartedly. And then he will be the one to grunt "silly girl" between chuckles, "silly naive girl, so easily manipulated." So yes, you got exactly what you wanted I suppose, and I allowed it to happen under the guise that it was what I wanted too. And now I forget and try to go on, and I succeed, mostly. And then, life makes sense for a good three or four days. I can forget the smell and the color blue and the wonderful safety that I had for two maybe three weeks. And you seem to know that I'm happy, because these are the moments you pick to ambush me.

"The fact that I'm still talking to you must mean something" you say, drunken gaze fixed on my too sober eyes. "I need to move on. We had something, I don't know what it was but it was there and it's gone now."

Silly girl, to let words like this bring her whole world crashing down around her. Silly, silly girl.

Liberal Arts Education

The wind whistled past the automobile as it rushed on through the heavy mist. It's passenger was dressed in light summer frock, as the car speed forward the girl's sash whipped up to dance in her face. Terror was in her eyes and the hands that clutched at the steering wheel, willing herself on, pushing the limits of sixty miles per hour. Not two minutes behind her another engine purred, a feline stalking prey.
The girl's dancing shoes slipped off the gas momentarily, the fast deceleration almost caused the car to stall. Sharp turn, a branch across the dirt road almost sent her spinning into the trees. Righting herself, she peered forwards towards her destination. Slamming the brake the car skidded forward and jerked to a halt. A lookout, on a clear night you could see over the whole sleepy town and university beyond- with majestic mountains to either side and a sheer drop to the valley below. The coeds had nicknamed this spot "lover's lane," but tonight it was eerie, draped in a rolling fog.
Slamming her door she ran, and seconds later heard her pursuer cut his engine and pant after her. A rock in her path twisted her ankle the wrong way; she slammed to the ground and lay there, head spinning in pain. She had to go on, couldn't stop now. Dragging herself up, half limping half running forward; she was on grass now, muffling the sounds of her steps instead of echoing them. Just a few more yards...and a hand caught at her dress. The silk ripped and she almost broke free, but another hand was grasping her arm. Biting and kicking she tried to break away, but her leg wouldn't support her weight on it's own. A swift kick upward yielded results as it connected with something soft and fleshy, a grunt and she was scrambling forward again. A few sure steps and then her left foot landed in air. With a small gasp she looked back as she plunged down through the night-down, down, down into the valley below.
*****
The stuck key jangled uselessly in the door, refusing to turn to either lock or unlock the storage room. An exasperated sigh and Anna was forced to put down the box she was balancing in her free arm. With both hands she manhandled the key until it reluctantly clicked into place and the door swung open. The room that greeted her always gave her the creeps. Peeling mismatched wall paper that dated from the turn of the century through the fifties, cracks on the wall and exposed pipes in the ceiling. This one room was frozen in time in a building that could boast all the modern necessities; it was the only room not to be wired for cable and wifi. Short makeshift partitions divided it into fourths, all with huge padlocks lest anyone felt curious about other organizations carefully guarded secrets. Not that they would find much, other then an old pinata, stacks of glass coke bottles, and an assortment of old scrapbooks. Anna grunted in disgust as she surveyed the mess. The box of modern composites and photos wouldn't fit anywhere without a struggle. "Why the fuck did I think joining a sorority was a good fucking idea?" she grumbled, not for the first time that day. Sullenly she played tetris with boxes for a while, before growing thoroughly peeved and slamming down a crate of old song books. "WHAT THE HELL IS THE PROBLEM WITH GREEK LIFE AND ORGANIZATION??!" In disgust she swung her foot at the wall, but instead of the satisfying thud she was expecting the wall swung in with her foot. "Great job Anna. Just wreck the fucking building why don't you?" Nursing both her pride and her foot she sat down to see how best she could hide her destruction. As she peered closer she discovered to her astonishment, not a hole in the plaster, but rather a small hinge cleverly disguised by the peeling wall paper. The tiny cubby it revealed had things scribbled on it in pen and pencil, too faded to make out. She let a finger trace the outline of a scrawl that looked like Greek letters, and to her further astonishment her fingertip brushed paper. Anna pulled it out and found herself examining a clip from the Campus Herald, published in 1936. It was yellow but in otherwise good condition, the room was dry and apparently free of mice. The headline of the clip read "Campus Queen Killed in Tragic Accident."

Thursday, May 16-
The campus community was grieved today to hear the news that Grace Turner's body has indeed been found. The search, which commenced late Tuesday night when she failed to return by curfew after a fraternity dance, was ended when Turner was discovered near the popular parking spot known to some as "Lover's Lane." She had apparently mis-stepped in the fog and gone over the edge of the cliff that the overlook sits atop. Her car has yet to be found, anyone who sees a black and red convertible ford is asked to report it immediately to the local authorities.
Turner was very active in campus life and will be missed by many. Though only a sophomore, she was recently named May Queen, and was the vice president of the Literary Society, as well as an active member in the Alpha Gamma Theta sorority. Services will be held in her memory this Sunday at the chapel, money is being collected for a scholarship in her name.

Anna shivered involuntarily. The Turner Scholarship, a prestigious award given to one incoming freshman interested in studying English or Journalism. She had been the recipient for her class. "This is crazy..." She let her words trail off as her fingers traced the photo that accompanied the article. Turner, after just being crowned Queen on May Day. She was in a white dress and surrounded by her court, framed by a fountain that must have been lost in the campus "Modernizations." She was a striking girl, with a chiseled face and dark hair. Turning the scrap of paper over in her hands Anna saw that someone had made an addendum to the back. "Gracie, you will be missed. Tony Parson deserves death for what he did to you. Gamma Theta love forever." The black sentiment was scrawled in perfect cursive, for some reason this made Anna shiver more then the article had. Suddenly she was struck by the urge to leave as fast as possible. Stuffing the article back into it's hiding place of more then seventy years, she scrambled to make her way out of the mess that she had inadvertently made worse. Only once she was safely out of the Alpha Gamma Theta storage room did she realize that her heart was racing at twice it's normal speed.

To be continued...