Monday, January 26, 2004
BEEEEP BEEP BEEEEEP BEEP!!! Veronica groaned and shifted. BEEP BEEEEP BEEEP!
Muttering soft curses she lifted her head to glare at the alarm that was now insolently waking her. The alarm’s face showed that it was eight am, and with all the beeping it was doing it looked like the clock itself was about to topple over. Against her strong desire to burrow further down under her covers and ignore it she reached over and silenced it.
Stretching and yawning, she turned on her back to stare at her ceiling and reflect back on the last few days. So much had happened that she was still in a bit of shock to realize she had actually left her childhood home in Georgia and was now living in the windy city itself. Everything was so different from back home. There it was quiet, remote, oh so polite. Here everything was so big, rudely busy, insistently loud and in so many ways challenging. That reason alone, the challenges she knew she’d face, made it all worthwhile. She never backed down from a challenge. She’d miss her family; she knew that and it would be her biggest worry. She knew no one in Chicago, though the way things ended with her parents she was happy at least for now to be away. She knew her mother and father loved her, they just didn’t understand. Not yet at least, she’d make them understand. Art meant everything to her and nothing to her parents. She knew most would call them old fashioned, set in their ways, whatever it was it was suffocating her. Being the perfect daughter was already impossible to live up to but them trying to make her the perfect wife for some man who had about as much warmth as a freshly caught fish. Aarrggh. It still infuriated her to think of what her parents did and how deceiving they had been with her. She rolled her shoulders, put those thoughts out of her mind for now and sat up in bed. She looked around at the amazing apt she was able to find. It had been pure luck to find this place and at such an amazing price. Boxes were half unpacked everywhere and the walls were still bare. She grinned and knew that was only temporary. As soon as she had a cup of coffee she’d get moving on fixing the place up and putting some of her own artwork up along with those of her favorites; Picasso, Van Gogh and the others. She’d make this place home, her place; filled with all the things she loved all the things that were hers. With a smile she pushed the covers aside and got out of bed.
The penthouse was spacious and bright. It had more than enough room for all her art supplies and some left over too. She enjoyed the fact that her living room opened up to a grand balcony that stretched the width of the room itself, with an amazing view of the city and all its glory. She loved how the sun would just stream in and brighten everything up including her, chasing out every last shadow that was hiding. Her cozy kitchen that was set off to the side was big enough to allow her to cook comfortably but small enough to be intimate. She was heading there now to make herself a nice pot of coffee when she spotted what had woken her up last night and given her such restless dreams. His face just called to her, drawing her closer and his eyes seemed to pierce right through her. She sighed and put the sketch away with all her others. There was no need or time to get caught up in fantasies right now, she had things to do. She looked around and didn’t know where to start; there was so much to do. She stared longingly out the window to the pulsating streets of the city. With a fast grin she dashed off towards the shower, she had made up her mind. She’d set things up later but for now she’d go exploring, meet people, find a job, a place to show her art. It was time Veronica Bell from Georgia said hello to Chicago!
Muttering soft curses she lifted her head to glare at the alarm that was now insolently waking her. The alarm’s face showed that it was eight am, and with all the beeping it was doing it looked like the clock itself was about to topple over. Against her strong desire to burrow further down under her covers and ignore it she reached over and silenced it.
Stretching and yawning, she turned on her back to stare at her ceiling and reflect back on the last few days. So much had happened that she was still in a bit of shock to realize she had actually left her childhood home in Georgia and was now living in the windy city itself. Everything was so different from back home. There it was quiet, remote, oh so polite. Here everything was so big, rudely busy, insistently loud and in so many ways challenging. That reason alone, the challenges she knew she’d face, made it all worthwhile. She never backed down from a challenge. She’d miss her family; she knew that and it would be her biggest worry. She knew no one in Chicago, though the way things ended with her parents she was happy at least for now to be away. She knew her mother and father loved her, they just didn’t understand. Not yet at least, she’d make them understand. Art meant everything to her and nothing to her parents. She knew most would call them old fashioned, set in their ways, whatever it was it was suffocating her. Being the perfect daughter was already impossible to live up to but them trying to make her the perfect wife for some man who had about as much warmth as a freshly caught fish. Aarrggh. It still infuriated her to think of what her parents did and how deceiving they had been with her. She rolled her shoulders, put those thoughts out of her mind for now and sat up in bed. She looked around at the amazing apt she was able to find. It had been pure luck to find this place and at such an amazing price. Boxes were half unpacked everywhere and the walls were still bare. She grinned and knew that was only temporary. As soon as she had a cup of coffee she’d get moving on fixing the place up and putting some of her own artwork up along with those of her favorites; Picasso, Van Gogh and the others. She’d make this place home, her place; filled with all the things she loved all the things that were hers. With a smile she pushed the covers aside and got out of bed.
The penthouse was spacious and bright. It had more than enough room for all her art supplies and some left over too. She enjoyed the fact that her living room opened up to a grand balcony that stretched the width of the room itself, with an amazing view of the city and all its glory. She loved how the sun would just stream in and brighten everything up including her, chasing out every last shadow that was hiding. Her cozy kitchen that was set off to the side was big enough to allow her to cook comfortably but small enough to be intimate. She was heading there now to make herself a nice pot of coffee when she spotted what had woken her up last night and given her such restless dreams. His face just called to her, drawing her closer and his eyes seemed to pierce right through her. She sighed and put the sketch away with all her others. There was no need or time to get caught up in fantasies right now, she had things to do. She looked around and didn’t know where to start; there was so much to do. She stared longingly out the window to the pulsating streets of the city. With a fast grin she dashed off towards the shower, she had made up her mind. She’d set things up later but for now she’d go exploring, meet people, find a job, a place to show her art. It was time Veronica Bell from Georgia said hello to Chicago!
Monday, January 19, 2004
Across town, the ear-shattering tune of Guns N’Roses was rudely interrupting night’s peaceful slumber. In the spacious top floor penthouse amidst the chaos of unpacked boxes and strewn clothing she sat. Woken from hours of deep sleep with an urgent, but familiar, desire to sketch she had risen almost automatically and moved towards her sketchbook. The smell of freshly brewed coffee, that still sat untouched, emanated from the distant kitchen. She sat, entranced, captivated at what her own mind was creating before her. Her hands, slender but firm, stained black with the dusty charcoal, moved over the page in a mesmerizing rhythmic dance. To an untrained eye it would almost appear as if she were scribbling instead of creating what people call “art.”
Her hair, dark like a ravens, normally fell in thick cascading waves to the middle of her back, was now carelessly tied in a lopsided knot at the base of her neck. She was slender at first appearance but if you noticed carefully you could see she was naturally fit, possibly a runner or maybe yoga. She was barely five feet six inches and on occasion she liked to cheat by wearing ridiculously high-heeled shoes for her own guilty pleasure, but all those that met her would say the most intriguing detail about Veronica Bell were her eyes. Violet eyes that would make the namesake flower jealous, they were often filled with such warmth that they appeared to be on fire. Large and almond shaped, when she laughed they seemed almost pixie like. She was the complete opposite of what a Georgian belle should look like and if it weren’t for the slight southern lilt in her voice no one would ever guess it, in this alone she reveled.
All at once she stopped, her eyes carefully assessing what her mind created. She leaned back slowly in her chair, one hand automatically moving to release her hair from its confinement the other to touch the sketch. She traced her fingers over the lines trying to understand. Confused she shook her head and stood, she placed the sketchbook on the nearby desk and lingered for a minute more. The male face that she had drawn stared back up at her, reckless in expression with dark hair the curled at the nape of his neck. With one last impulse she picked up her light blue pencil and colored in his eyes. There, that’s just right she said to herself. Perfect, but who is he?? She lingered a second more finding it hard to tear away from his eyes. With a soft laugh she admonished herself for being silly. It was just a dream, a silly little dream she reminded herself. With that she turned and headed for bed, maybe now she’d be able to sleep.
Her hair, dark like a ravens, normally fell in thick cascading waves to the middle of her back, was now carelessly tied in a lopsided knot at the base of her neck. She was slender at first appearance but if you noticed carefully you could see she was naturally fit, possibly a runner or maybe yoga. She was barely five feet six inches and on occasion she liked to cheat by wearing ridiculously high-heeled shoes for her own guilty pleasure, but all those that met her would say the most intriguing detail about Veronica Bell were her eyes. Violet eyes that would make the namesake flower jealous, they were often filled with such warmth that they appeared to be on fire. Large and almond shaped, when she laughed they seemed almost pixie like. She was the complete opposite of what a Georgian belle should look like and if it weren’t for the slight southern lilt in her voice no one would ever guess it, in this alone she reveled.
All at once she stopped, her eyes carefully assessing what her mind created. She leaned back slowly in her chair, one hand automatically moving to release her hair from its confinement the other to touch the sketch. She traced her fingers over the lines trying to understand. Confused she shook her head and stood, she placed the sketchbook on the nearby desk and lingered for a minute more. The male face that she had drawn stared back up at her, reckless in expression with dark hair the curled at the nape of his neck. With one last impulse she picked up her light blue pencil and colored in his eyes. There, that’s just right she said to herself. Perfect, but who is he?? She lingered a second more finding it hard to tear away from his eyes. With a soft laugh she admonished herself for being silly. It was just a dream, a silly little dream she reminded herself. With that she turned and headed for bed, maybe now she’d be able to sleep.
Friday, January 16, 2004
Rules:
1. Always post in sequence. Do not jump another person.
2. Minimum of a paragraph post. *that means 4 complete sentences*
3. Maximum of 4 paragraphs each turn. *coughs*
4. Try to stay as close as to the story possible. *coughs*for those drunken evenings*coughs*
5. Post in a timely fashion. Max allowance of 3 days to post.
1. Always post in sequence. Do not jump another person.
2. Minimum of a paragraph post. *that means 4 complete sentences*
3. Maximum of 4 paragraphs each turn. *coughs*
4. Try to stay as close as to the story possible. *coughs*for those drunken evenings*coughs*
5. Post in a timely fashion. Max allowance of 3 days to post.
