• 10/11/19 1:26 pm
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This is part 4 of Chiaroscuro 's Writing Extravaganza - Simulacrum event. This has been really fun to do! The rest of the parts can be found in this collection. Hope you enjoy :)
Nadia clutched the letter in her hand. Her sweating palms crinkled up the paper, before she decisively ripped both the envelope and its contents; the text was burned behind her retinas already. The rest of her vision was taken up by the blinding white light of the smooth street reflecting back up at her - clearly, she had somehow found herself outside. Not happy with just two pieces, she started to shred the paper into tiny scraps that littered the ground around her feet. Finally, the overwhelming brightness was back under control. Finally, it was hers.
Looking back into the doorway, she could just about make out the dark shape of Ms. Stephanov shuffling around inside, clearly moving Nadia’s dust-traipsing shoes or some other semblance of clutter out of the polished hallway. She could see the snatched bun and smooth skin stretched tight against cheekbones. The associations of artificial lemon, danish pastries, and emotional distance, would be, she imagined, less visible to the naked eye. For what seemed like the thousandth time that day she wondered what they were doing in god-knows-where Arizona, several hundreds of miles from the school that bound the two of them together. And then her mind was back on Dad again.
She walked away, aimlessly, from the house. At first, her strides were fast, the imagined voice of Ms Stephanov calling her back reverberating sharply in her mind, but after she rounded the corner into the dappled shadows of the park, she stopped, sighed, fiddled with the sleeve of the sweatshirt around her waist, and finally dropped ungainly onto the grass.
After years of being just her and Dad, it had been so sudden - the parents evening, the fateful few dates when he would return with his penetrating stare just a little rounded and his concentration turned mellow as he read the paper. And then the house was filled with the silent bustle of Ms Stephanov. Not that they’d ever stayed in one house for too long; after five moves in as many months, Nadia had stopped asking and retreated into the haze of new schools and the comfortable reliability of strange looks and a lonesome bedroom. Occasionally they would stay much longer in one place (without explanation, of course). The past half-year had been one of those times, and Ridgefield High had begun to feel like home - until being whisked away, again, the other day, this time with only Ms Stephanov to keep her company, not Dad.
She was missing Dad already. Thinking about him while laying in the grass was like poking a fresh bruise, but she couldn’t stop herself. It was cathartic in a way, her thoughts drifting to the sudoku she would complete in his otherwise impenetrable newspapers, the smell of the clothes sitting in the washing machine for slightly too long, the stacks of dog-eared books, the late-night drive-throughs when they would both sing along to terrible music blaring loud, the grass he would cut, his glasses slipping down his nose, his pastel-coloured button-ups, his-
“Nadia Rivers?”
Nadia jackknifed off the grass, tripping from her bittersweet revelry.
Jet-black hair, perpetual 5 o’clock shadow, a broad face and a narrow chin, she would recognise him anywhere.
The Newspaper Man.
Without further ado, Nadia hooked a foot around the back of the man’s knee and pulled him down onto the ground, rolling on top of him, hoping her weight would hold him down.
“And who are you?” she demanded, sounding much less brave, she expected, than she actually felt. She knew how to protect herself, right?
The man sighed.
“I’m Andres. I work with your father. I guess I’ll be sending him the invoice for this nice new coat you just ruined.”
Hope you enjoyed! I'd love some feedback/critique, so if you have any feedback don't hesitate to comment/PM :^) Can't wait to see where ArcaneKnight and the rest takes this!
Nadia clutched the letter in her hand. Her sweating palms crinkled up the paper, before she decisively ripped both the envelope and its contents; the text was burned behind her retinas already. The rest of her vision was taken up by the blinding white light of the smooth street reflecting back up at her - clearly, she had somehow found herself outside. Not happy with just two pieces, she started to shred the paper into tiny scraps that littered the ground around her feet. Finally, the overwhelming brightness was back under control. Finally, it was hers.
Looking back into the doorway, she could just about make out the dark shape of Ms. Stephanov shuffling around inside, clearly moving Nadia’s dust-traipsing shoes or some other semblance of clutter out of the polished hallway. She could see the snatched bun and smooth skin stretched tight against cheekbones. The associations of artificial lemon, danish pastries, and emotional distance, would be, she imagined, less visible to the naked eye. For what seemed like the thousandth time that day she wondered what they were doing in god-knows-where Arizona, several hundreds of miles from the school that bound the two of them together. And then her mind was back on Dad again.
She walked away, aimlessly, from the house. At first, her strides were fast, the imagined voice of Ms Stephanov calling her back reverberating sharply in her mind, but after she rounded the corner into the dappled shadows of the park, she stopped, sighed, fiddled with the sleeve of the sweatshirt around her waist, and finally dropped ungainly onto the grass.
After years of being just her and Dad, it had been so sudden - the parents evening, the fateful few dates when he would return with his penetrating stare just a little rounded and his concentration turned mellow as he read the paper. And then the house was filled with the silent bustle of Ms Stephanov. Not that they’d ever stayed in one house for too long; after five moves in as many months, Nadia had stopped asking and retreated into the haze of new schools and the comfortable reliability of strange looks and a lonesome bedroom. Occasionally they would stay much longer in one place (without explanation, of course). The past half-year had been one of those times, and Ridgefield High had begun to feel like home - until being whisked away, again, the other day, this time with only Ms Stephanov to keep her company, not Dad.
She was missing Dad already. Thinking about him while laying in the grass was like poking a fresh bruise, but she couldn’t stop herself. It was cathartic in a way, her thoughts drifting to the sudoku she would complete in his otherwise impenetrable newspapers, the smell of the clothes sitting in the washing machine for slightly too long, the stacks of dog-eared books, the late-night drive-throughs when they would both sing along to terrible music blaring loud, the grass he would cut, his glasses slipping down his nose, his pastel-coloured button-ups, his-
“Nadia Rivers?”
Nadia jackknifed off the grass, tripping from her bittersweet revelry.
Jet-black hair, perpetual 5 o’clock shadow, a broad face and a narrow chin, she would recognise him anywhere.
The Newspaper Man.
Without further ado, Nadia hooked a foot around the back of the man’s knee and pulled him down onto the ground, rolling on top of him, hoping her weight would hold him down.
“And who are you?” she demanded, sounding much less brave, she expected, than she actually felt. She knew how to protect herself, right?
The man sighed.
“I’m Andres. I work with your father. I guess I’ll be sending him the invoice for this nice new coat you just ruined.”
Hope you enjoyed! I'd love some feedback/critique, so if you have any feedback don't hesitate to comment/PM :^) Can't wait to see where ArcaneKnight and the rest takes this!
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