Aaaaah

I wrote this piece a loooong time ago and I meant to expand on it since I've been away so long, but I've been so tired and my parents are sick and there's just been a lot going on, so here is this, and hopefully I post again soon.

~~~

Lila ended up following Armend to his place and three quickly escalated into five, which she was informed was only three short of their normal staff.  Armend, Seti, and Alim turned out to be the rowdiest of the group, with Armend singing something in a foreign language and horribly off key, but truly not caring.  It was enough to make her laugh, which made him grin and her laugh some more, especially after a few drinks.  Seti and Alim imitated him in a better key and in a different language.  The first of the other two arrived kept giving them a hard time with a gruff and almost angered look, while the fifth man just sat and laughed, especially when Lila ended up spilling one of her drinks.

She eventually moved over to him, holding out her hand. “I’m Lila, the new girl,” she greeted.  A smile lifted up her lips and he eyed her, silent.  Her smile wavered and she pulled her hand back a little at a time.

“Kwahu,” he answered.  She smiled again and lowered her hand down fully.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His brows rose for a second and he looked back to the self-made entertainment of the night.  Taking a quick sip of her drink, she backed away and shifted her attentions to the fourth man.  She sank into one of the large armchairs next to him and watched him a moment, almost laughing at how his eyes tried to wander toward her but he wouldn’t let them.

She held out her hand again. “I’m Lila,” she greeted.  He finally looked to her and eyed her, shifting his drink from one hand to the other before shaking hers.  Another ice cold hand, but at least this time she could say it was definitely from something else.

“Obed,” he answered. “So you’re the girl from Phoenix.” She nodded some.

“Yep.” He took a sip of his drink, keeping his eyes on her, before hearing a note that made Armend’s voice crack.  His gaze shifted to the man. “You run the shop about as well as you sing,” he called out to the man.  Armend shot him a grin.

“I may not be able to sing, but I can definitely fire you,” he retorted.  Obed glared for a moment before laughing and raising his cup in the air.  Lila laughed a little again.

Back

After my short hiatus.

~~~

Work proceeded about as Lila expected it to.  Seti and Alim showed her the ropes of the shop; where to put the old tires, how to do everything, what she was allowed to do at this point and what she wasn't.  And as she figured, they didn't really get that much business, yet they always seemed to have something for her to do.  By the end of the night, they'd scrubbed the floors and sorted the wheel weights and oil filters and air filters, they'd stocked the front of the store with the very few pretty displays they had.

When Armend called for them to finally close, she couldn't feel more relieved, and expressed such with a sigh.  Her face had turned grayish black from her dirty fingers swiping stray strands of hair from her face and sharp, spiced smell of oil soaked into her hair, from a spill when she was under a car.

She sighed again and leaned against the front counter, watching Armend punch in a few final numbers into the computer. "Did they treat you well?" he asked.  She nodded and smiled some.

"As well as slave drivers treat their servants," she joked.  He smirked and passed her a quick glance before his face fell into seriousness again.

"Those very slave drivers were wondering if you would go out with us tonight," he stated.  She stared at him, replaying his words in her mind.  She didn't expect to be invited out with them on her first night there.  In fact, she didn't really expect anything to be open at this time of morning in a small town.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"My place," he answered.  She frowned some; of course nothing was open.

"Are you married?" He shook his head. "Living with a girlfriend?" He shook his head again. "Have a girlfriend at all?" He looked from the computer to her.

"What point are you getting at?"

"I'm not entirely sure how comfortable I am going to your place with a bunch of guys." He arched a brow slightly and returned to his computer, typing in a few more numbers before finally shutting it off.

"Three is not a 'bunch', unless my English is that bad.  Besides, you're a city girl." He smirked again and stood up, grabbing his jacket and heading to the door. "Your choice."

~~~

And that's all I feel up to writing for the night.

So...

Happy Single's Awareness day to all you singles out there and happy Valentine's day to all you couples out there.

And I just got some really bad news and I just don't feel up to writing... anything.  So sorry, skipping out again.

No Excuses.

Actually yes there are.  It's been a crappy day and I've felt sick on and off.  Know that's not an excuse but it's my 'day off' anyway.  I was supposed to do writer's night with a friend but decided to take my mom's advice of just coming home and relaxing after work today, so that's what I did (even fell asleep on accident). So, that's my excuse for not writing.  We changed writer's night to Saturday, but since I'm just not yet into my world enough to write that story, I will probably continue my mini-series on Saturday before trying to brainstorm my story some more.

And it's going to be a rough week.  I got bumped up to 36 hours, which I'm not complaining, it's great money and I need the hours, but work has gotten exhausting and it's only my first month.  It's not the workload, it's not the customers, it's the coworkers.  Three of them just up and disappeared today and so I got my butt chewed over it because the cars were piling up and I was the only one able to work on them and therefore unable to get them out in time.  I'm tired of this trend of coming in early and leaving late EVERY day I work (at least they've stopped calling me in on my days off, knock on wood).  I mean, I always get there early because I'm afraid of being late and just generally clock in early, but they often call me in hours early too.  And then I end up staying late because my coworkers pull stupid crap like driving off to McDonald's and so sending someone else on a test drive (which at the level he's at isn't supposed to be done and it's not like he can really relay the right information anyway) and then taking your buddy with you.

Freaking, dumb.  And on top of that feeling on and off sick and not having eaten all day, so I don't care if they're pissed that I left.  There were two cars needing to be worked on, only one that I could do, and I was supposed to be off anyway and someone else came in.

So point of that long winded story is that if I have to deal with that crap all week (five days this coming week) then finding the mood to write may be hard for me.  I used to be able to do it no matter what mood I was in, because it was my escape, but I don't just write for fun anymore.  I want to be published.  I want to do something more than just the little flash fiction/short story things I do.  But we shall see.

My goal is to write every day (which I did write today but it's actually something for my story ha!) and so I'm going to try to write every day regardless of work, but we shall see.

Nocturnal

Later than I meant! Swing dancing lasted way longer than I thought lol.  So this may be a short post (I do work in the morning lol).

~~~

Lila drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and stared up at the dark, star dotted sky.  She found herself entirely too early, having arrived at a quarter passed eight, and made the note to herself that it only took fifteen minutes to get here from her place.  It occurred to her after she'd gotten home from her not-really tour of the shop that perhaps she should have paid attention to the clock more than her thoughts of unpacking, but by then it was too late.  And coming from a city where it took over an hour to drive all the way through it, she misjudged when she should leave.

She sighed to herself and pushed into the back of her seat, letting her hands slide down and drop from the wheel just as two bright headlights flashed in her eyes.  Her gaze followed the vehicle as it pulled in front of the shop; a dark gray BMW.  She waited until the door opened up and Armend stepped out before she opened her truck door and stepped out.  He glanced over his shoulder at her and she froze.  His eyes seemed to hold an unnatural glow in the night, a glow that seemed to pierce right through her.

He turned again and went to the door.  She found herself releasing a slow breath when she heard the jingle of keys before proceeding to the door, muttering to herself under her breath how stupid she was just seconds before. "You're early," he muttered when she was close to him.  She studied him a moment, his eyes particularly, but noticed nothing abnormal.  He twisted the knob and pushed it open with another glance to her. "No one else ever is."

She nodded slightly and followed him in, blinking at the suddenness of the lights as he flicked them on.  He moved behind the counter to turn on the two computers there and checked the phone.  Everything whirred to life at once, polluting the silence that held the place before, and then the door behind Lila. "There's another door in my way." Her eyes widened and she promptly jumped out of the way with a small turn to see who a tanned skin man standing there. "It's open." He stepped inside, followed by a similar looking man.  They studied her a moment.

"Lila?" the second one asked.  The first man passed a glance to Armend, who nodded, and the man brightened.

"The new girl to the slaughter!" He chuckled and held out his hand. "Name's Alim, and this asshole behind me is Seti." He passed a grin over his shoulder at the man.  Lila smiled some and took his hand, pausing.  It was ice cold, and she didn't remember the temperature outside being particularly so.

"Uh... Lila, as you know," she muttered softly.  The two men looked to her again.

"Welcome," Seti greeted.

(To be continued... 'cause I'm tired lol)

Here it is!

I'm hoping to make this post and the following posts into a 'mini-series' and I hope it doesn't turn out as expected.  But we shall see.  So here goes.

~~~

Lila drove her beat up Chevy pickup through the small town, faster than she knew she should have, considering she was trying to find a place she'd never been to.  Her eyes darted from one side of the road to the other as she passed more buildings than she knew she'd remember.  Since when did places barely on the map have so much?  Her hand flicked the sound on her crackling radio down and she leaned forward, just barely catching the sign to the automotive shop.

She hit the brake harder than she meant to, thrusting her forward and into her steering wheel.  Cringing, she turned into the parking lot, parked, and got out with the sound of a door needing to be oiled.  Her eyes scanned over the place, taking note of the law firm above the garage and the restaurant next door with no cars in front of it at the moment.  Across a minor street was a much nicer looking building, but it housed no signs to offer insight into what it was.

She headed toward the shop, slipping in with odd silence where she expected the jingle of a door chime.  Three men were there.  One sat at a computer with blonde hair pulled together by a small purple bow near the ends and thrown over his shoulder.  He wore thin glasses on the edge of his nose and didn't even pass a glance in her direction.  The other two stood behind the counter and looked toward her. "Can we help you?" one of them asked with a slightly arched brow.

"I'm Lila.  I'm the new hire," she answered.  The man's expression brightened with recognition and he moved around the counter.

"I just didn't expect... you," he stated with a small grin.  Her brows furrowed slightly and she scanned over him, instantly thinking of all the things she could pick apart that made him unusual for a receptionist at a mechanic shop, such as his two golden looped earrings. "I'm Armend, the supervisor."

"Oh! Well it's a pleasure to meet you," she responded, thankful now she didn't comment on his earrings.  She held out her hand.  He studied it a moment before turning toward the door to the back.

"Follow me and I'll show you around.  You can start tomorrow, nine to five." He lead her passed the other two men and pushed open the door before pausing and glancing over his shoulder. "You know we're only open at night, correct?" he asked.  She nodded and he gave a nod in return.  He held the door for her before motioning to the shop.  There were six bays; three equipped with drive on lifts.  Several other assorted machines littered the wall opposite as well as several rows of tires. "And this is it," he stated with a grin and a chuckle.  She stared at him a moment before glancing over the area. "I joke," he answered, still grinning some. "But really there is nothing to show.  And don't mind the looks they give you," he nodded toward the men working, "They look at everybody that way."

She stared at him again a moment, not entirely sure if that was somehow a joke or not. "Seems simple enough," she answered.  He gave another nod.

"Just like any other small shop." He shrugged, crossed his arms, and glanced out at the men. "Except not all of us are from here, if you can't tell already." She nodded slightly.  He had an accent.  She never was any good with accents or languages, but she knew he wasn't from Europe.  It seemed rude to her, however, to ask.

"And you're open at night.  Why only night?" He stood without a word, watching a man mount a tire to a rim and bouncing it to another guy.

"People's cars break down at all times, better business if you can be the one it gets towed to at night," he muttered with a roll of his left shoulder.  He looked back to her. "If that's all, come back tomorrow.  Nine."

"Uh..." She couldn't keep the noise from escaping her mouth before she shrugged. "Nine it is..." It all seemed rather informal, but she supposed that was how things worked at a small shop in a small town, or what she was told was a small town.  Maybe things would change once she adjusted...

(To be continued)

Another storyless day.

So I've been trying for about four hours to think up something to write, and I can't think of anything.  So as much as I hate these rants about life, here it is.

Call me emo, a whiner, needy, what have you (my friends certainly do!) but it's become quite disheartening when even my friends won't read my work.  I know I've been trying to write every night, so I don't expect them to read everything, but the longest piece I've written in this span of time is three pages.  No it's not broken up with bunches of dialogue or double spacing between paragraphs and it's size twelve times new roman font.  But I read their works.

Again, I'm not asking for every night, but a little support? To my friends who write as well, I've expressed a longing for feedback.  I'll even take a simple 'oh yeah I liked it!' at this point.  Even a 'dude it really blew!' would suffice.  And yet all I hear is 'I'm too busy' or 'oh yeah I keep meaning to but I just keep forgetting'.

Really?

You can't take fifteen minutes out of your day to read a short, less than 2,000 word story? You even gave me the prompt! I know I shouldn't cry about it, I know I should move on and just find other means of gathering an audience, but it makes me feel a little... empty.  I write to be read, I suppose.  My characters are nothing without someone to enjoy them, to feel for them, to understand them, to acknowledge them.

Somebody I was talking to, who rarely sees me, has a friend who is also trying to become a writer.  She sends off to agents and literary magazines and the like, and she finds it quite disheartening too, when someone doesn't like her work or refuses to read it, because it's a part of her.

I've mentioned my disappointments to a number of people and they just 'disappear' for a few hours or days until they have something new to talk about.  And I'm not one of those people to just 'oh you won't read my stuff? Well I won't read your stuff', because I, obviously, know what it's like.  But I really wish I had those feelings.  Well, I do have them, but I don't act upon them.  My friend spent half a day rewriting her prologue to her story and sent it to me.  It's not very long, only 1,300 some words.  I paused what I was doing to read it.  I don't expect my friends to drop what they're doing to read something of mine, but how is it they have time to spend a whole three days with friends, running around, and then get bored and 'can't find anything to do' but don't have time to read my works?

I suppose this is how it is as an artist who isn't a big name, however.