Chapter 7- Untitled

This is NOT a beginning. This is Chapter six of a novel. That being said, most of the chapters are relatively short, so not that much happens. All that happens, is one the main characters dies, leaving the rest of the characters kind of depressed. This chapter follows the progression of Frances, the control-freak protagonist, and her boyfriend Casey, who I haven't developed at all at this point, because I don't quite want the reader to see him as a person. Either way, please don't judge this short "before you read" blurb as a good indicator of my writing skill. My writing is a lot better than this. I think.


Cold wind blew through the unfilled showers where water dipped onto the tiles. She barely noticed the temperature dropping, for she could only focus on the absence of soulful melodies, ambiguous smiles, and soft whispers that normally filled the hallway. Counting the bruises on her leg and staring at her button-like eyes, she noticed how small she looked standing in the empty room. Then it occurred to her she looked even smaller next to the empire state building. Invisible compared to the earth.

Quickly, she slipped on a pair of panty hose. Using red lipstick, she smoothed the cracks in her lips, covered her ghostly face with white powder, and brushed coal eye shadow over her eyes, giving them the illusion of a twinkle. It was all for the same reasons. Not only did she want to impress Casey, but she wanted to recognize the girl in the mirror as the dancer she once knew.

At last, she squeezed her bruised feet in a pair of tiny peepholes. As she walked, the tapping of her shoe echoed through the hall, and traveled up the stairwell, creating an almost musical effect. Before she reached her floor, she saw Casey leaning against the window. He seemed almost blended with the ebony sky. White moonlight reflected from his eyes, which seemed like dark shadows carved on the top of his chiseled face. Frances creped towards him, causing him to crack a weak smile.
"Frances..." he whispered while adjusting his hat. ”What’s up?”

"Umm…I…I got tickets to see Riots in Tokyo. Saturday." Her red lips stretched out as she handed him the concert tickets.

Instead of taking them, Casey, fingers strumming the stale air, stared into the empty corridor.

"Is something the matter?" She asked.

"Oh no. Nothing's the matter I'm just...we'll talk about it later." He took a few steps, causing his back to face her.
"Why not talk about it now?" She stared at him, observing the way his body turned away from her, and how his eyes traveled up the stairwell and along the ceiling, as it told him which words to say.

"Not now," he mumbled. "Saturday. Okay?" He reached over and gave her a shaky hug. It was the last thing he did before rotating his body and descending deeper into the shadows.

She looked at the starlight and realized she was only gazing at the ceiling. The shrill cries of the crowd carried through the air, as if were the beginning of a new world. Beams reflected from the lead singer’s guitar. All the lights and sounds and the darkness and the silence filled the galaxy. Frances shifted her way through it all. She could feel herself getting lost sound of the lead singers screams and overpowering guitar hooks. She imagined herself plummeting endlessly. Then as she looked at him, she could imagine him plummeting too--in a different direction. If only she could grab the stage wires, wrap them around his waist and pull him closer to her.

"It's beautiful," she yelled over the crowd. Funny how far away they were from the band and the rest of the crowd, yet she could still see the lead spinning around like a ballerina on speed. "It's so fucking beautiful," she repeated because even the chaos looked orderly from far away.

"Right," he said, "Beautiful, right."

Frances wondered what it was like to watch this on TV. Even though all the lights and sounds were all around her, they suddenly seemed muffled, detached from her and she believed she wasn't a part of any of it--only a spectator watching everything on a fifty year old couch, fingers wrapped around a remote, watching new lives start and movements stop like there wasn't any world.

She squeezed his hand to make sure he wasn't just a figment.

Casey slipped his hand out of hers and concentrated on the music.

"What?" She asked.

Casey shook his head. "It's nothing." He looked at her. "Do you mind if we talk for just a second?" He turned away from her, yet he seemed more alive than he did yesterday for the chocolate flecks in his eyes reminded Frances of a fire dancing around ashes. Through her fingertips, she could feel his pulse rise.

"No…no, I don't..." She replied, clutching her shaky leg.

For the first time that evening, Casey grabbed her wrist, and the two of them headed out the back door. As the blaring guitar became softer, her breathing became shorter and louder. Collapse seemed inevitable.

By the time they arrived at the plaza, she thought of a million things he could say. For the first time the city engulfed her. Building after building towered over them like dominos in disarray. The breeze blew between her legs, brushing the backside of her bare arms, knees and fingertips. She imagined herself falling and falling, like a marionette sinking into the Hudson, until she landed knee first into the concrete. Blood dripped onto the pavement.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she replied quickly, feeling her face turn the color of her lips.

"You don't seem fine.” Casey moved closer to her, yet he still seemed blended with the shadows. Taking a bandages, she quickly wiped off her wound, looked Casey directly into the eyes, and said,

“Well I am…”

“Do you want me to get bandages?” His voice seemed neutral, as if he was a stranger speaking to a child.

“No,” Frances replied quickly, “And please stop talking to me like that.” Frances covered her mouth, more in shock over what she said than he was.
“Like what?”

“Like I’m a stranger.” Frances turned towards the crooked skyline, so Casey couldn't see her tears carving slimy trails though her make-up. "I just want us to be close again."

Something in the way he carried himself changed, as if he fell off the empire state building over and over but never died.
"Frances…"

Her name lingered in the air, like a bad hangover. Frances felt lightheaded and drunk. Even as he stuttered and stumbled, she wanted to hear her name again.

"Why?" he asked.

Frances turned around and stared at him. Suddenly, she could see little brown in his eyes, only coal flecks penetrating her like starlight.

"Why?"

“I don’t know. I just want to know what’s your problem? Why did you even take me out there? Are you worried about your future or do you even care about that?”

Casey looked towards the skyline. "My future isn’t the point. The point --

"But that doesn’t answer my question. Do you care about your future?”

"No! How can I? After everything that's happened I-I" He ran his hand over his face, "can't."

"Because you never did. You were too absorbed in your own problems to even move forward and live your life. All I wanted was to help you."

"You wanted someone who you could use."

"That's not true."

"Damn right it is." Casey snapped. "But it's not going to happen anymore. Because you know what? I'm tired of sitting around and doing nothing as my life falls apart. And I know the timing of the this whole thing sucks, but I can't fix whatever pain you’re in. I can't make you happy."

Frances cried. "Yes you can..."

"But I can't. We shouldn't just stay together just because of the situation were in, because then it would be a lie."

"No...no..."

"We've been drifting apart."

"We can drift together, please..."

“No we can’t. Which is why we’re over.” The last note of Riots in Tokyo blared through the plaza, traveled through the skyline, and eventually became a soft ring. “Let’s go home now.” He said before reaching over to grab her wrist. She felt the cold sensation of fingertips brushing her hand. It felt like isles. The softness of his palm clutching her wrist only added to the lethal quality of his words. Right then, she felt like she was dying.

Using all her remaining strength, Frances broke their contact and shoved him closer to the skyline. It wasn't the force off her push that caused him to stumble, but the shock of it, along with his poor sense of balance. She watched as he toppled to the ground. Watched as he stood motionless, under the infinite stars. But before he could get up, and take her back to Northwestern, she bolted faster than Halley’s comment. Her bare legs streaked across the plaza and into the city streets.