Write A Letter - Dear Thief

Dear Ms. Thief,

Imagine my surprise when I woke up today and realized something was missing. I know where I left it last night and when I woke this morning it was gone. It is something that I have cherished all of my life. It is a gift that my parents gave to me and reminded me of how important it was to cherish. I can hardly believe that I trusted you to be left alone in the same room. I have heard rumors that you have behaved this way in the past. In fact you were tried and convict by a jury of your peers of behavior unbecoming. Most people would be thinking that what you stole from me is something materialistic. When in fact, what you stole from me is of greater value than diamonds or pearls. Your callous disregard for another person’s feelings led you to strike out in a vicious and monstrous way. Ugly words in the form of malicious rumors have stolen from me my sense of self-esteem.
Sincerely,
Your Victim

Posted at http://write-a-letter-wednesday.blogspot.com/2011/04/write-letter-wednesday-11.html
Posted at http://thereddressclub.blogspot.com/2011/04/red-writing-hood.html


© Lisa N ~ 4/6/11

The Surprise - YA Novel Chapter 2

“Oh my Gosh, Max! Is that what I think it is?” I utter in almost a whisper. Max doesn’t answer me; he just continues staring straight ahead. When he finally does turn towards me and remove his hand from the steering wheel, they are shaking uncontrollably. “We have to get out and look!” he tells me. We both slowly open our doors and advance ever so slowly to the front of the car. Lying there, or rather sitting there in the middle of the lane is a car seat facing away from us. Only inches separate the black plastic of the seat and the bumper of the car. Max takes his final step and falls to his knees in front of the seat. Staring down at the seat, nothing can prepare either of us for what we see. Instead of a baby, strapped into the seat is a pair of size 24 mo jeans and pink and white sweatshirt with the words “Mommy’s Little Angel”. What I find most disturbing though is that lying on the ground, as though posed, are a pair of the smallest pink Nike tennis shoes I have ever seen. Each shoe holds a single pink lace sock that hangs limply over the heel tab. Max stands up next to me and while we are both relieved in one respect that there is not a child in the seat, the confusion is beginning to settle into our minds. What kind of sick joke is this? What kind of person who even think of something this horrific? Max reaches into his pocket for his cell phone and begins dialing . He pulls the phone away from his face and stares at it confused. “What’s wrong Max?” I ask him impatiently. “My phone doesn’t have any service. Now that cannot be right, I’ve made calls while driving down this lane a zillion times” he replies clearly annoyed. I walk back to the car and retrieve my own phone out of my new purse. I enter my security code and written clearly across the display is the words “No Service Available”. None of this is making any sense whatsoever and to be quite honest, this situation is starting to frighten me. Max comes up behind me, startling me half to death. He is holding the car seat in his right hand and I can see he has placed the tiny shoes in the bottom. “I think we should get out of here and drive to get some help!” his eyes pleading with me. Nodding my agreement I quickly slip into the front seat and buckle my seat belt. Max slides in next to me after securing the car seat in the back seat. The question before us is whether to continue on down the lane to my house or to turn around and head back toward town. This evening has turned strangely bizarre. I suggest that going to my house where my parents will be the voice of reason is the best plan of action. The drive seems to go on for an eternity. We pull into the circular driveway and are greeted by brilliant light from every window in the house. It’s 12:30 a.m., why would all the lights in the house be on?

posted at http://thereddressclub.blogspot.com/2011/03/red-writing-hood-donuts.html
© Lisa N ~ 3/24/2011

The Detour (Young Adult Novel Chapter 1)

It’s quarter until midnight and the full moon has made the world almost as bright as daylight. Max and I drive down the lane slowly, neither wanting the evening to end. Curfew is midnight and we don’t want to be late. My father grudgingly agreed to allow me to go out this evening. He still views me as his little princess even though I am 16 already.

I have waited for what seems like a lifetime for this night. I have secretly had a major crush on Max for almost all of my life but I didn’t think he even knew I existed. For as many years as I can count Max has been a friend of my brother James. James and Max were a year older than me. Day after day, Max would come and go from our home, breezing right past me as though I was invisible. I suppose I was, after all, “just” James’ kid sister Zada. When high school came along for me, I developed from that skinny little girl to a not unattractive young woman. This year when Max came over after football practice it was soon obvious that his interest lay somewhere other than Xbox and Mountain Dew. My parents adore Max. For many girls that would clearly be a turnoff, but for me I have never been into the “bad boy” phase. Max is just perfect in almost every way and amazingly he doesn’t seem to know it.

He holds my hand gently in his as he steers the car down the lane. My heart flutters with each touch and I lay my head back against the seat. The music plays softly and I feel completely lost in the moment. That is until I hear the squeal of the brakes and I am thrown forward in my seat, nearly hitting my head on the dash of the car. I turn to look at Max and he is pale as a ghost. I follow his gaze to the front of the car and there lying on the ground is what is sure to be a detour that is most definitely going to make me late for my curfew.posted at http://thereddressclub.blogspot.com/2011/03/red-writing-hood-detour.html


© Lisa N ~ 3/18/2011

Ugly & Beauty

When I think of ugly today what comes to my mind is not physical appearance that is deemed unattractive but rather behavior.  Those moments when you think that someone that you have a generally strong relationship chooses to behave in a seemingly unnecessary and hurtful manner, it is then that I find that to be “ugly”.  The utter shock and disappointment followed by the sense of betrayal send cold prickly feelings up and down your spine

The initial and most likely human response is hurt followed by anger.  What seems logical is to assume the victim mentality and begin arming yourself to fight back or at a minimum plan your retaliation.  It is at this crucial crossroad that you find yourself hovering at the edge of a precipice that defines you and your tolerance.

Posted at http://thereddressclub.blogspot.com/2011/03/red-writing-hood-uglybeauty.html

© Lisa N ~ 3/11/2011

Can you step back and look at the behavior in calm and rational manner?  It is possible to spin the situation in a direction that would allow for belief that potentially what appeared as “ugly” may indeed be the actions of a true friend who is putting themselves on the line to provide you with “constructive criticism”.  What seems unseemly in the current light may be a rough and unpolished nugget that when handled properly may turn out to be a beautiful and worthy gem.