"Lifting and Seeing"
Dec. 11th, 2002 10:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
timepiececlockHere's an original short story of mine, that I turned in as part of my final portfolio.
It's slightly odd, and takes place mostly in a grocery store right before closing hour.
Lifting & Seeing
by Rashaka
The camera stared blankly in his direction, and Mike shifted his weight from foot to foot. He made a show of running his finger along the labels in front of him, as if he were simply skimming the price tags. He fought against the impulse to bite his lower lip, and with measured sluggishness, the tiny metal joints under the mounted camera rotated, and the lens turned to the east wall of the grocery.
There was a tense moment of motionlessness on Mike’s part, as if waiting for some outside intervention to raise its righteous voice in protest. He could hear the rolling of the cart on the next aisle over, and tinny, high-pitched country music rained down from the ceiling speakers far above.
The moment passed, and Mike’s hand darted out swiftly, grabbing the box of toothpaste. Without looking down he shoved it one-handed up into his sleeve, and then casually slid both hands in his coat pockets.
The security camera found him once again scanning the shelves, bent over and squinting at the small yellow tags. After a few more seconds of feigned perusal, and then his back straitened, and he moved down the aisle. He kept his hands in his pockets till he reached the corner Cheeze-Its display, and then he removed both, supposedly for the purpose of examining the nearest box of crackers. He let his eyes roam over the ingredients list, then, crackers in hand, walked leisurely to the front of the store.
The woman being helped by the cashier when Mike approached looked about sixteen, with, mousy brown hair pulled into a functional ponytail, and no make up. She wore faded jeans—the real kind, not the carefully pattern-bleached style he kept seeing on girls now a’ days. Above it was an equally old purple sweatshirt—faded also, with a metal zipper that must have let a lot of cold air in when she went outside. Mike thought she was sort of cute, in that teenager way. Like him, the girl hadn’t felt an eleven o’clock at night trip to the grocery-drug store was an event worthy of dress up. She tossed him a bored once-over while the older man at the cashier machine rung up her items.
Mike met her eyes somewhat balefully, and the act made her turn her head back, suddenly more interested. She caught his eyes with her head-on this time, face turned fully to him to stare unrelentingly. Her eyes were brownish-green, healthy and wide. She wore an Egyptian Ankh pendant, small and silver the way some people wore crosses. She didn’t say anything, just stared as the cashier clicked away at his machine beside them, and Mike was made aware again of the toothpaste resting silently in his coat pocket and the red box of crackers clutched in his grip. The girl’s gaze was direct, like she knew him personally, not the way of strangers in a grocery store. He felt his mouth go dry, and he resented the sensation.
“Do you have the time?” he asked, suddenly eager to end the staring match.
The girl made a condescending “hmph” sound, and pointed high up at the far wall, where an enormous round clock was hung, ticking toward 11:52 pm. Mike nodded, and looked away, setting his Cheeze-Its down on the moving belt with a slight slam.
“Your change is thirteen, sixty-seven, Miss,” the old man mumbled, dropping coins into the teenager’s outstretched palm. “Have a nice evening.”
“Thank you,” she replied, and started loading her bags into her large metal cart. Mike let out his breath with a short moment of relief. Hopefully she’d go away soon.
“I need to know the price for this,” he stated, pushing his box along the counter. “With tax.”
The cashier shrugged and ran it under the machine. “Four, eighty-five.”
Mike adopted a worried frown, and then shook his head slowly. “Dammit,” he muttered, making sure it was loud enough for the old man to here. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass, then. Sorry.” The cashier picked up the crackers and set them on a cart nearby, and waved him on disinterestedly. Mike lifted a hand in a small wave and sauntered toward the exit. It was only when the double doors whooshed open to a near-empty parking lot that he noticed the girl, again.
“Hello,” she said, standing off to the side a little ways.
“Hello,” Mike repeated, going with the simplest response.
“Help me load my stuff to my car?” There were plastic bangs hanging clutched in her hands, and more at her feet.
“What happened to your cart?”
She let out a small, empty smile and said, “We weren’t getting along, and I kicked it away until it hit that tree over there.” A small finger motioned off toward Mike’s left. “They locked up the rest already.”
Mike sighed, shrugged nonchalantly, and stooped to pick up three of the grocery bags. The girl picked up the last one herself, and began leading them both across the blacktop. The silence was heavy for a few moments, and then the girl spoke, lightly.
“Do you always go and talk to the store employees and stand especially near to the register when you steal stuff?”
“I didn’t steal anything. I almost bought Cheeze-Its.” Cool and calm, that was him. Stupid girl didn’t know what she was on about.
“Would have been really nasty with toothpaste, so it’s a good thing you didn’t.”
Mike stopped walking and stared at her blankly. The girl stopped a few steps ahead, arms full of groceries.
“Oh don’t look so put out, it’s only toothpaste. I’m at least five years younger than you and I’ve stolen worse than that.”
Mike found his jaw was open, and closed it abruptly. “Yeah, so? I needed it, didn’t want to pay for it. End of story.” He shifted the weight of the bags in his hands.
The girl raised both eyebrows and began walking again. When they reached her car she opened the trunk and started placing her bags down in the hole. She turned to accept the rest from him. “You’ve never done that sort of thing before, I can tell,” she said calmly, voice untroubled. “You did alright, sure, but next time don’t waste your energy pretending to want something else so you have a reason to walk out empty handed. It’s stupid.”
She leaned over and slammed the lid of the trunk down, then smiled in his direction. “I wouldn’t do it anymore if I were you. Kelly would dump you if she found out.”
The world of Mike ceased spinning on its axis with an abrupt, screeching halt.
“How do you know my girlfriend’s name?” He snapped, a strange feeling of being violated creeping over him. He knew nothing about this girl, and yet she seemed so confident in confronting him.
“I don’t know,” she replied, shaking her head as if I embarrassment, or frustration. “The same way I know the sky is blue, and that everyone has to push toast down in a toaster more than once, and that my dog will die on May 4th, 2004, and that you stole toothpaste because you don’t get paid till Wednesday and you want the money for gas to drive tomorrow. The same way I knew you’d carry my bags.”
Mike was at a loss for words. He stared at the girl, then took a long breath. Carefully he stepped back from her vehicle, and started to raise one hand in half a gesture, then gave up and stuffed both in his pockets. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna go. Now. Good night.”
The girl nodded, and sighed, almost disappointedly. Part of Mike wondered what kind of reaction she’d expected from him.
“Good night, then.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, and turned away to find his own car.
---------------
It's slightly odd, and takes place mostly in a grocery store right before closing hour.
Lifting & Seeing
by Rashaka
The camera stared blankly in his direction, and Mike shifted his weight from foot to foot. He made a show of running his finger along the labels in front of him, as if he were simply skimming the price tags. He fought against the impulse to bite his lower lip, and with measured sluggishness, the tiny metal joints under the mounted camera rotated, and the lens turned to the east wall of the grocery.
There was a tense moment of motionlessness on Mike’s part, as if waiting for some outside intervention to raise its righteous voice in protest. He could hear the rolling of the cart on the next aisle over, and tinny, high-pitched country music rained down from the ceiling speakers far above.
The moment passed, and Mike’s hand darted out swiftly, grabbing the box of toothpaste. Without looking down he shoved it one-handed up into his sleeve, and then casually slid both hands in his coat pockets.
The security camera found him once again scanning the shelves, bent over and squinting at the small yellow tags. After a few more seconds of feigned perusal, and then his back straitened, and he moved down the aisle. He kept his hands in his pockets till he reached the corner Cheeze-Its display, and then he removed both, supposedly for the purpose of examining the nearest box of crackers. He let his eyes roam over the ingredients list, then, crackers in hand, walked leisurely to the front of the store.
The woman being helped by the cashier when Mike approached looked about sixteen, with, mousy brown hair pulled into a functional ponytail, and no make up. She wore faded jeans—the real kind, not the carefully pattern-bleached style he kept seeing on girls now a’ days. Above it was an equally old purple sweatshirt—faded also, with a metal zipper that must have let a lot of cold air in when she went outside. Mike thought she was sort of cute, in that teenager way. Like him, the girl hadn’t felt an eleven o’clock at night trip to the grocery-drug store was an event worthy of dress up. She tossed him a bored once-over while the older man at the cashier machine rung up her items.
Mike met her eyes somewhat balefully, and the act made her turn her head back, suddenly more interested. She caught his eyes with her head-on this time, face turned fully to him to stare unrelentingly. Her eyes were brownish-green, healthy and wide. She wore an Egyptian Ankh pendant, small and silver the way some people wore crosses. She didn’t say anything, just stared as the cashier clicked away at his machine beside them, and Mike was made aware again of the toothpaste resting silently in his coat pocket and the red box of crackers clutched in his grip. The girl’s gaze was direct, like she knew him personally, not the way of strangers in a grocery store. He felt his mouth go dry, and he resented the sensation.
“Do you have the time?” he asked, suddenly eager to end the staring match.
The girl made a condescending “hmph” sound, and pointed high up at the far wall, where an enormous round clock was hung, ticking toward 11:52 pm. Mike nodded, and looked away, setting his Cheeze-Its down on the moving belt with a slight slam.
“Your change is thirteen, sixty-seven, Miss,” the old man mumbled, dropping coins into the teenager’s outstretched palm. “Have a nice evening.”
“Thank you,” she replied, and started loading her bags into her large metal cart. Mike let out his breath with a short moment of relief. Hopefully she’d go away soon.
“I need to know the price for this,” he stated, pushing his box along the counter. “With tax.”
The cashier shrugged and ran it under the machine. “Four, eighty-five.”
Mike adopted a worried frown, and then shook his head slowly. “Dammit,” he muttered, making sure it was loud enough for the old man to here. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass, then. Sorry.” The cashier picked up the crackers and set them on a cart nearby, and waved him on disinterestedly. Mike lifted a hand in a small wave and sauntered toward the exit. It was only when the double doors whooshed open to a near-empty parking lot that he noticed the girl, again.
“Hello,” she said, standing off to the side a little ways.
“Hello,” Mike repeated, going with the simplest response.
“Help me load my stuff to my car?” There were plastic bangs hanging clutched in her hands, and more at her feet.
“What happened to your cart?”
She let out a small, empty smile and said, “We weren’t getting along, and I kicked it away until it hit that tree over there.” A small finger motioned off toward Mike’s left. “They locked up the rest already.”
Mike sighed, shrugged nonchalantly, and stooped to pick up three of the grocery bags. The girl picked up the last one herself, and began leading them both across the blacktop. The silence was heavy for a few moments, and then the girl spoke, lightly.
“Do you always go and talk to the store employees and stand especially near to the register when you steal stuff?”
“I didn’t steal anything. I almost bought Cheeze-Its.” Cool and calm, that was him. Stupid girl didn’t know what she was on about.
“Would have been really nasty with toothpaste, so it’s a good thing you didn’t.”
Mike stopped walking and stared at her blankly. The girl stopped a few steps ahead, arms full of groceries.
“Oh don’t look so put out, it’s only toothpaste. I’m at least five years younger than you and I’ve stolen worse than that.”
Mike found his jaw was open, and closed it abruptly. “Yeah, so? I needed it, didn’t want to pay for it. End of story.” He shifted the weight of the bags in his hands.
The girl raised both eyebrows and began walking again. When they reached her car she opened the trunk and started placing her bags down in the hole. She turned to accept the rest from him. “You’ve never done that sort of thing before, I can tell,” she said calmly, voice untroubled. “You did alright, sure, but next time don’t waste your energy pretending to want something else so you have a reason to walk out empty handed. It’s stupid.”
She leaned over and slammed the lid of the trunk down, then smiled in his direction. “I wouldn’t do it anymore if I were you. Kelly would dump you if she found out.”
The world of Mike ceased spinning on its axis with an abrupt, screeching halt.
“How do you know my girlfriend’s name?” He snapped, a strange feeling of being violated creeping over him. He knew nothing about this girl, and yet she seemed so confident in confronting him.
“I don’t know,” she replied, shaking her head as if I embarrassment, or frustration. “The same way I know the sky is blue, and that everyone has to push toast down in a toaster more than once, and that my dog will die on May 4th, 2004, and that you stole toothpaste because you don’t get paid till Wednesday and you want the money for gas to drive tomorrow. The same way I knew you’d carry my bags.”
Mike was at a loss for words. He stared at the girl, then took a long breath. Carefully he stepped back from her vehicle, and started to raise one hand in half a gesture, then gave up and stuffed both in his pockets. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna go. Now. Good night.”
The girl nodded, and sighed, almost disappointedly. Part of Mike wondered what kind of reaction she’d expected from him.
“Good night, then.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, and turned away to find his own car.
---------------
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In the humble opinion of one who has had work published...
Date: 2002-12-12 09:57 am (UTC)It is excellent Rashaka!
Your description is strong, but never distracts from the narrative. The characters are very well drawn. The atmosphere leaps off the page (I can hear the county music "raining" down)...
If I have one criticism, and this is more a personal hatred than a flaw per se, its that the first five paragraphs all begin with "Th" words ("The"s and "There"s). I know thats incredibly anal, but I spend a lot of time editing and that sort of repition grates at me a bit..
But not enough to stop this being the best piece of work I have read on the internet for about a month! Have you had much stuff published? If you haven't you should try, I have brought whole collections of short stories with out one piece the equal of this!
Errm...I am I now your biggest fan? Seriously though, I really enjoyed it.
Re: In the humble opinion of one who has had work published...
Date: 2002-12-12 12:02 pm (UTC)Actually, I don't have anythign published. This was written for a writing class at school.
If I have one criticism, and this is more a personal hatred than a flaw per se, its that the first five paragraphs all begin with "Th" words ("The"s and "There"s). I know thats incredibly anal, but I spend a lot of time editing and that sort of repition grates at me a bit..
I'll think about that, and look over that part of the story later. Thanks for pointing that out. One one my pet peeves is repetition of the same action/description word twice in two sentences, so I get where your pet peeve is coming from.
Thanks for responding!