(no subject)
So here's my first story for my Creative Writing class
It's eight pages long >.<
Randall Fischer could feel the tension intensify in his throat, pressing his elbows into the cold dirt of the trench; the scope of his gun raised to his eye. He glanced over at Dallas. Randall thought of him as a hero.
“We can do this, man,” Randall reassured Dallas, but mostly himself, “We can win this.”
Dallas pointed towards the looming forest to the North, “I can see Charlie approaching.”
Shots fired in the distance and rang through the air. Shouting followed, and Randall could hear footsteps coming through the thick grass. Bright lights grazed the foliage surrounded the two soldiers. The two kids.
The rest was fuzzy in Randall’s memory. It had happened so quickly, Randall experienced it only as a blur. Charlie had rushed the trench. Randall never heard the shot go off, but he knew what had happened as he noticed a bright red liquid ooze down from Dallas’s chest.
“No!” Randall tossed his gun into the dirt and threw himself on Dallas. “I love you, man! Don’t die on me now.” Dallas was his comrade. His friend. But mostly, Dallas was Randall’s brother.
No, really. Dallas was Randall’s older brother.
“Dude, get the hell off!” Dallas yelled at Randall. “Shoot Charlie before he gets you out, too!” He shoved the paintball gun back into Randall’s hands.
Randall was quickly reunited with reality as a hard yellow paintball pelted him in his upper arm. This wasn’t a war between fighting nations. No Viet-Cong. It was just a round of paintball between preteen neighborhood boys.
Thirteen years later. Setting: A dark, lonely basement in an upstate New York suburb where every house looks exactly the same; small, brown, and dumpy.
The flickering glow of the television cast dancing shadows on the stark walls. Randall was watching Casablanca for the twenty-seventh time, and each time he always cried, always laughed, and was always was overcome with a feeling of warmth and comfort. He yearned for one genuine moment in his life that made him feel that way. So much so that he began to exaggerate mundane events in his life. It was like this since he was a child.
Randall’s fascination with movies started when he was around eight years old and watched Top Gun. He wanted to be a part of that glory and watched almost every war movie made to date. His interest in older, classic movies led him into a different direction. He started watching 1940’s comedies and musicals. When he grew older, his taste evolved and he became more and more interested in romance movies, as he grew more and more lonely.
The real problem was that Randall had immersed himself so much into the world of film; he had separated himself from the rest of the world, reducing his chances of ever finding that moment. Especially since Dallas had left eight years ago to go follow sunsets in California. The only social events he had now were the two days a week he worked as a cashier at the local grocery store. Randall’s mother Pamela let him stay in the basement as long as he contributed to the bills and took care of Leslie, his six year old sister.
Pamela was a strange woman. She came off as a mousy push-over, and she never talked about her feelings or anything of substance. She had never been in a serious relationship with a man. None of her children knew who their father was, and none of them had the courage to ask their closed off mother. She worked over night as a waitress, and sometimes was gone for two or three days at a time.
“Randy! Dinner’s done!”
“Kiss me. Kiss me as if it were the las---“ The television cut off.
Fade Screen. Open to Leslie’s class recital of nursery rhymes and old folk tales.
Leslie had gotten the lead part in the reenactment of the Itsy Bitsy Spider, the darling blond girl in a big clunky spider costume.
“The itsy bitsy spider crawled up…” her felt-covered wire legs bounced as her fingers spidered their way into the air.
Randall was filled with pride and delight. Pamela was too tired to attend.
“…the water spout.”
He could see the spotlight gleam through Leslie’s hair from his seat in the front row. She was without a doubt the most angelic spider he had come across, with the sweetest voice he had ever heard. Definitely sweeter and more precocious than Shirley Temple could have ever been.
“Down came the rain…”
He pulled a lighter out from his pocket. He always kept it with him; it was Dallas’ favorite. On the front, a girl in a bikini smiled at Randall, but if someone rubbed their finger over it, the warmth made her bikini disappear.
“…and washed the spider out!”
Flick. Flick. Flame.
He raised the ignited lighter above his head and slowly waved it back in forth through the air. He couldn’t be sure, because his eyes were steadied on the presence onstage, but he thought he saw some others follow his lead.
“Out came the sun…”
This was it. This was a miraculous moment. It wasn’t like any movie he had ever seen, but he felt lightness wash over him. His very own sister was amazing as she performed! He knew this was the sentimental moment he was waiting for.
“…and dried up all the-“
“Sir.”
“And the itsy-“
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to extinguish your flame please.” A man spoke quietly.
“Huh?” Randall looked to see the principal hovering next to him.
“No open flames in the school auditorium, sir.”
Randall was left there in his seat. Completely defeated.
Cut to the next day. Randall’s at Sav-A-Ton deep into his routine. Everyday though ended up being his own adventure. Catty old women with expired coupons were villains and every price check was an extreme emergency. Some of the regular customers loved that he took his job seriously, but most of them just avoided awkward Randall.
And then there was Andrea. To Randall, Andrea was a goddess. Baking-trainee extraordinaire. She was an artist, a princess, the perfect girl even when covered in rainbow icing. There were prettier girls at Sav-A-Ton, but Randall thought they were snobby or too loud. He loved Andrea for her soft gray-blue eyes, her warmth, her creativity, and her smile. But mostly her smile. It was a smile for the big screen, the kind that infects the watcher with happiness. It had infected Randall with happiness every day that he worked, though he had never actually spoken to her. She had greeted Randall every day, but after a while of never getting a response, she had stopped.
Today he had his favorite lane. Number 12. It had the best view of the bakery.
Scan. Scan. Scan.
Booooop.
Bakery-made cupcake wouldn’t ring through. It was his time to shine. Price Check on Lane 12.
“Don’t worry, ma’am. I will get this all sorted out for you in just a moment. I just need to call the bakery.”
The bakery. He looked over at Andrea. She was laughing and smiling, talking to the head baker. Randall Fischer picked up the phone and dialed the extension.
“Bakery department. This is Andrea.” Randall watched her pick up the phone.
“In your eyes. The light. The heat.” He began to sing to her. It was the song made famous in Say Anything, where John Cusack plays the boom-box outside of the girl’s window. Randall hadn’t planned to do it. It just came out. “In your eyes. I am complete.
In your eyes.”
“Randall? This isn’t funny. I can see you. Did you need help or what?”
He blinked his eyes and he could feel everything come back to him. “Ballerina slippers. Price. Uh... Price check on bakery-made cupcakes with pink ballerina slipper toppers.”
“Oh. 4.99.”
“Will you go to lunch with me sometime?”
“Talk to me after work, Randall. I have to go.”
She didn’t say no.
Randall waited on the bench outside. He almost left because he was so nervous. She came out of the grocery store and walked right over to him, her long dark brown hair floating behind her in the wind.
“Look, I think that you’re, uh, a nice guy and everything. I’m just not looking for a relationship or anything right now. I’m really busy between work and culinary school.”
“It doesn’t have to be a relationship. Just one lunch?”
“Randall, can I be frank with you?”
“Only if I can be Charlie.” Randall snorted. “But yeah. You can.”
“I’m not interested. You’re not my type. I mean, you’re kinda weird.”
And with that, she walked away. Randall remained behind, on the bench. Completely defeated.
Cue the slow, dramatic music. Randall got onto the dirty, musky city bus that night, like he did every Tuesday and Wednesday, and walked to the very back seat, like he did every Tuesday and Wednesday. Usually, he sat consumed by hopeful thoughts of being with Andrea or he would map out what movies he would watch that week. He never really paid attention to the other people on the bus, but a couple was arguing too loudly to ignore.
You never support me. I don’t think you love me anymore. Why am I always the bad guy?
An elderly lady two seats up turned around to Randall. “I hope you’re smart enough to stay away from marriage. It only brings trouble, young man.” She said in a slow, raspy voice that is only caused by a lifetime of chain smoking.
Randall closed his eyes and breathed in deeply through his nose. He felt hit by an epiphany; he needed to take in his surroundings. He needed to wake up to all of the miraculous events around him. Randall realized that in searching for his own moment, he missed all of the ones happening around him. It occurred to him that Dallas leaving their crappy house in NoWhereImportant, New York to go find something more rewarding out West was amazing. Something straight out of the movies. Spontaneous. And it had happened right before Randall’s eye, but he never gave it another thought.
Randall declared to himself, right there on the bus, surrounded by strangers, that he would enjoy random acts of kindness as miracles. He would no longer be jealous of happy couples. He would embrace all of Earth’s moments as everyone’s moments. But mostly, as his own moments. Maybe things didn’t need to happen just like they do in the world of cinema, he thought, maybe they just need to happen. And as if it was scripted, right as he thought this, the couple stopped screaming at each other.
“Please, darling. Don’t you remember? We met on this exact bus route. Let’s get those days back. When all we needed was each other. You remember those days, don’t you?” The man stared into the young woman’s eyes with such fierce love, hope and passion. The woman nodded back to him, and they kissed. The kissed the perfect movie kiss. Passionate, yet soft.
Randall was filled with warmth, and he started to applaud. He didn’t plan on it, it just happened. He clapped very slowly at first.
Clap…..Clap…..Clap.
The elderly woman joined in. The pace picked up.
Clap…Clap.
The homeless man hiding behind his overgrown facial hair and too-baggy clothes started clapping, too, flashing his toothless smile.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Soon enough, the other passengers had joined too. The Asian woman who didn’t speak any English, the college graduate who dressed forty years too old, and even the business man who stuck his nose at every one as they walked by him in the first seat. They all rode the bus together every week, but never spoke to one another. This was Earth’s moment. Everyone’s moment. But mostly this was Randall’s moment.
“Get the hell off!”
Left to the side of the street, all of the passengers remained behind in a cloud of bus exhaust. Completely Defeated.