Hey internet. I’m starting my NaNoWriMo journey by attending a local write-in, which is essentially like a study hall for non-school-related purposes. It’s in a local café, I’m wearing my Doctor Who shirt, and someone’s already mentioned Nerdfighters and caffeine overdoses.
I think I found my people.
Marie stood, trembling like a newborn lamb.
“My feet are cut up on the bottom, and I don’t have shoes,” she sniffed.
The stranger just turned and started walking. Marie, desperate, overheated, and a little pissed, followed.
They walked without stopping for almost two hours. Milo waddled and bounded around them and through their legs the entire time, occasionally letting out a low pitched snuffling grunt of approval if he was enjoying himself or a sigh, if he didn’t think Marie was moving fast enough. The woman, who had not offered her name or even asked for Marie’s, said nothing at all the entire time, save one apathetic grunt when Marie asked her, fifteen minutes in, how long the walk would take.
Marie zoned out the silence after a while, occasionally stumbling over the odd tree root and wincing theatrically for anyone who cared to look. No one was nearby as far as she could tell, but it made her feel slightly better about the whole situation. Both her feet were cracked and blistering badly, the right foot leaving behind a bloody smear on the leaf-covered forest floor, and she was sweating profusely through her very expensive silk floral blouse and her immaculately tailored dark wash jeans.
To while away the time, Marie thought of a Katy Perry song she’d heard on the radio the other day and replayed the chorus over and over in her head. It was a shame, she thought, that she’d dropped her iPhone, else she could look up the rest of the song and get it out of her head.
That thought made her start crying again, and she sniffled the entire rest of the walk, privately determined to be absolutely miserable.
Marie slept until noon of the following day and rose still half-hoping to be home in bed, wrapped in her 5,000 dollar Egyptian sheets. Milo, the dog, was waiting for her at the foot of the scratchy and pitiful excuse for a bed they’d allotted her the night before, clutching her Louboutin heel delicately between his teeth. When she sat up, he promptly dropped the heel, picked it up again, wagged his tail, ran around in a circle, and jumped on and off the bed six times before dashing out of the room.
Marie lay back down and stared up at the ceiling. Last night they’d arrived just as the sun was going down and the wild psychopath woman hadn’t done anything but shove her into one of the dilapated looking building and pointed towards the bed.
“The water in the pipes is clean,” she had remarked almost begrudgingly, before closing the door and locking it from the outside. Marie, on the point of collapse, had merely nodded, peed, and jumped right into bed without even bothering to undress.
Word Count – 11514