Status: Just a little cute something that'll be written when inspiration or boredom occurs.
Breaking Suburbia
Chapter Five
There’s something about repetitive pressing of the buzzer at the gate at ten in the morning.
The wrought iron shakes beneath his hands as he continues to pound in the buzzer with the hand that isn’t occupied. Maggie cowers; peeking through the mini blinds every other second, wondering when the madman would stop. She would have answered him if it weren’t for the gargantuan hound that sat on the heating sidewalk consistently panting in the humidity.
Maggie thought about calling the police. “Maggie, I can see you!” Chester’s blood red face exclaims as Maggie turns around in whirlwind-esque method and crouches against the wall.
Left to her own devices, she was utterly clueless as to what she needed to do. Her mother’s voice infiltrated her racing thoughts.
“You’re going to have to face conflict, darling.”
So Maggie turned back around, using all the strength her jello-y forearms could manage. Up the window went, increasing the sounds of locusts and the cringe worthy scraping of metal on cobblestone. The dog was what sent the chills up the course of her spine, spanning over the backs of her arms and her cheeks. “What do you want from me?” Maggie yelped through the screen.
“I want you to come down here!”
Cringing, Maggie tried to remember when she saw a person so passionately livid before. That was the scary thing about Chester; Maggie could just sense the intensity rolling off of Chester that day in the music store. The burden of these strong emotions could nearly be picked up in trace amounts in the pleasant musky scent about him. “I can’t?” Maggie shrugged her shoulders, her palms quavering in anxiety.
“Yes you can! Maggie, you’re completely able…”
“Don’t talk like you know me!”
And the suburbs fell into a stagnant silence. The sounds of lawnmowers and giggling children ceased. Elderly women chatting about elderly men in the lavishly shaded gardens at the other end of the street abruptly halted. Everything stopped and Maggie could only hear the sharp intake of oxygen that filled her lungs as she realized the words that lingered in the space between her and Chester could never be taken back. She had put herself out there and now she was vulnerable.
Maggie had never imagined this moment, the inevitable breaking point, to be this liberating.
The wrought iron shakes beneath his hands as he continues to pound in the buzzer with the hand that isn’t occupied. Maggie cowers; peeking through the mini blinds every other second, wondering when the madman would stop. She would have answered him if it weren’t for the gargantuan hound that sat on the heating sidewalk consistently panting in the humidity.
Maggie thought about calling the police. “Maggie, I can see you!” Chester’s blood red face exclaims as Maggie turns around in whirlwind-esque method and crouches against the wall.
Left to her own devices, she was utterly clueless as to what she needed to do. Her mother’s voice infiltrated her racing thoughts.
“You’re going to have to face conflict, darling.”
So Maggie turned back around, using all the strength her jello-y forearms could manage. Up the window went, increasing the sounds of locusts and the cringe worthy scraping of metal on cobblestone. The dog was what sent the chills up the course of her spine, spanning over the backs of her arms and her cheeks. “What do you want from me?” Maggie yelped through the screen.
“I want you to come down here!”
Cringing, Maggie tried to remember when she saw a person so passionately livid before. That was the scary thing about Chester; Maggie could just sense the intensity rolling off of Chester that day in the music store. The burden of these strong emotions could nearly be picked up in trace amounts in the pleasant musky scent about him. “I can’t?” Maggie shrugged her shoulders, her palms quavering in anxiety.
“Yes you can! Maggie, you’re completely able…”
“Don’t talk like you know me!”
And the suburbs fell into a stagnant silence. The sounds of lawnmowers and giggling children ceased. Elderly women chatting about elderly men in the lavishly shaded gardens at the other end of the street abruptly halted. Everything stopped and Maggie could only hear the sharp intake of oxygen that filled her lungs as she realized the words that lingered in the space between her and Chester could never be taken back. She had put herself out there and now she was vulnerable.
Maggie had never imagined this moment, the inevitable breaking point, to be this liberating.
♠ ♠ ♠
Hmm... I seem to be recommending music in my author's note...Sonic Youth, specifically their song Schizophrenia. Try it out? Or not? Haha, doesn't matter.
How unrealistic this is. Oh well. Feedback is good, but don't feel pressured. If you're not moved to comment, don't. Because if you aren't moved to comment, I have ultimately failed (or am pathetically mediocre) at writing.
So yeah... Schizophrenia by Sonic Youth..