virgo27
05-29-2011, 10:08 PM
This is just a beginning slice of something that needs to grow into a short story. I haven't written anything in two years. Any comments appreciated.
Rosemary ran down the sidewalk shedding her school girl ribbons waving after the bus. “Wait!” But it kept on going until it hit the red light and she stood on the corner waving up at the driver. Her rainbow had faded.
The doors opened, “You need to be at the stop. I won't let you on at the corner anymore,” The female bus driver told her in a Puerto Rican accent. How many times did she have to get the same driver, she wondered, as she pushed her pass into the slot?
“Sorry,” she said.
“Don't tell me sorry, tell me thank you.”
“Thank you,” she meekly smiled, taking the last empty seat behind the drivers, while struggling to get the pass back into the wallet, which was tangled in her pocket book straps. It was hard trying to maneuver ones arms when overwhelmed by the stereotypical fat public transportation rider.
It was one of those mornings in which everything outside was right. The sky was clear and the sun was strong. It had rained before dawn and the sidewalks were clean. It was getting out into the light that was the hard part. But she was on the bus now and didn't have to worry until the next stop.
She decided to get into the swing of things and thought the people on the bus were a marvelous array of the old, young, and permanent. It was Queens after all, the most diversely populated place in the country. Their neighborhood bordered one airport straddled by another international airport at the other end of Brooklyn. People no longer came to this place on ships, but by plane and seemed to take some time to get over the shock before moving on.
It was the N train that took her high above the East River back down into the bowels of the NY underground. This ascension led her to lean over and look down, watching the barge and the boats chug up and down the river. She turned and continued to stare as the skyscrapers rose to her eye reflect morning's glory and she oddly felt elated by this strange existence. As the train went back into the darkness, she thought how different this place was from the wooded suburbs she grew up in. How the inner working of this mechanical city never ceased to evoke the wonder of the native residence, but for those who have just arrived it is even more of an incredible wonder. It can be as wonderful as having your first child and as awful as loosing the love of your life.
Rosemary ran down the sidewalk shedding her school girl ribbons waving after the bus. “Wait!” But it kept on going until it hit the red light and she stood on the corner waving up at the driver. Her rainbow had faded.
The doors opened, “You need to be at the stop. I won't let you on at the corner anymore,” The female bus driver told her in a Puerto Rican accent. How many times did she have to get the same driver, she wondered, as she pushed her pass into the slot?
“Sorry,” she said.
“Don't tell me sorry, tell me thank you.”
“Thank you,” she meekly smiled, taking the last empty seat behind the drivers, while struggling to get the pass back into the wallet, which was tangled in her pocket book straps. It was hard trying to maneuver ones arms when overwhelmed by the stereotypical fat public transportation rider.
It was one of those mornings in which everything outside was right. The sky was clear and the sun was strong. It had rained before dawn and the sidewalks were clean. It was getting out into the light that was the hard part. But she was on the bus now and didn't have to worry until the next stop.
She decided to get into the swing of things and thought the people on the bus were a marvelous array of the old, young, and permanent. It was Queens after all, the most diversely populated place in the country. Their neighborhood bordered one airport straddled by another international airport at the other end of Brooklyn. People no longer came to this place on ships, but by plane and seemed to take some time to get over the shock before moving on.
It was the N train that took her high above the East River back down into the bowels of the NY underground. This ascension led her to lean over and look down, watching the barge and the boats chug up and down the river. She turned and continued to stare as the skyscrapers rose to her eye reflect morning's glory and she oddly felt elated by this strange existence. As the train went back into the darkness, she thought how different this place was from the wooded suburbs she grew up in. How the inner working of this mechanical city never ceased to evoke the wonder of the native residence, but for those who have just arrived it is even more of an incredible wonder. It can be as wonderful as having your first child and as awful as loosing the love of your life.