blog-o-rama

Maire was shocked by her impulses, and the ease she felt when burning the books. Book after book, Marie threw them into the fire. It felt good. Marie didn't want to the books to end, she just grabbed and threw and grabbed and threw.
It seemed like nothing but a blur later that evening. Marie went about her activities as if nothing had changed. She played a vinyl and ate some turkey or dinner.
The next morning Marie woke to a scream. By now Marie was used to prostitutes screaming periodically throughout the day, and didn't think much of the startle.
Maire didn't leave her apartment until later that night. She didn't notice anything at first, but after walking down two blocks she noticed billows of smoke rising from where the library used to be. Used to be.
"Oh, no," Marie thought to herself and began to run.
The library remained as nothing but chard's of burnt wood and a few scattered book covers. The sounds of a ambulance rang in the distance and were getting closer. Marie hoped, literally hoped more than anything that nobody was burning.
As the ambulance pulled two people ran out and began searching. Marie just stood and watched. After a few minutes there was a body. Small and limp. Marie just watched.
The body was definitely dead. The ambulance drove away with it's siren playing loudly. Marie still remained unmoved. This was the second death she had witnessed and it was too much.
Wilshire was an escape from her grandfather's death, but death seemed to find her again.

second to last

The clouds looked as though they were about to rain, but Marie lingered on the beach. Just where the water meets the sand. This was the most peace she had experienced since her grandfather died a year ago. It was one of those dreams you never want to wake from. Now that he was gone nobody noticed Marie.
Shouts from the street traveled into Marie's room and woke her from her bliss. When Marie opened her eyes her room was filled with the sent of smoke. Something was burning.
It was either the fact that Marie had just woken from a pleasant dream or it was something else, but she was quite upset to smell the sent of something burning. It bored her, probably because she smoked so many cigarettes. But this was a different kind of smoke. There was no nicotine in this. Sitting on the window sill she took off her socks and glanced down to the road. Down a ways there was a group of people standing around a large cloud of smoke. Enthralled Marie threw on her purple jacket and ran towards the fire.
Once there, it was clear that the fire was that of books. A large group of people were burning books. For some reason, unbeknownst to Marie she immediately ran to the group of people and joined them in burning the books. It didn't matter what the books were about or even why they were being burned, Marie just needed to be a part of the burning.

...

There was a loud sounds of screeching tires from the street level hat woke Marie in the early morning. Everything in the room was still except for the shadows of head lights dancing across the walls. Marie was only awake for a short time before turning over to her side and dozing off again.

Three hours later a ringing came from the alarm clock that rested next to a candle, a postcard, and a pack of cigarettes. A petite hand grabbled toward the bedside table that held some of Marie's dearest possessions. When she was a child her kindergarden teach would always light a candle whenever it was story time, Marie did the same every time she read in bed. The postcard was written from her grandfather, and the cigarettes were the same brand that he smoked.
When the noise from the alarm clock was quieted Marie poured out a cigarette onto her upper stomach and reached for her zippo. These few moments in bed always helped her wake up. There was no time, nor food, to make a breakfast so Marie headed straight for the door.
As Marie stepped out of the lobby of her apartment complex she was greeted by a gush of warm air that picked the hair up from her shoulders. One the door was shut she reached into her pocket and lit another cigarette as she preceded to walk to the right. There was an antique shop that looked intriguing. Marie had always fancied antiques or anything that had a general olden tinge to it.
Marie looked at the antique store as she walked began to walk towards it, pondering the possibilities that might be lingering inside. Unfortunately her thoughts were interrupted as two red boots trumped right up to her and coughed. Marie's eyes didn't glance any farther upward than the obnoxious boots attached to the ground. The cough was intended as a warning to the dangers of smoking but Marie was paying attention to the wind and the way the antique shop looked down the road. Marie continued to stare at the red boots blankly. "You shouldn't smoke," said the boots. Marie remained stagnant to the comment and continued to glance down the road.
The lighting was interesting. There was a bench down the way and Marie wanted to sit on it. She turned to the woman wearing the boots, looked her in the eyes, and blew an exhale in her general direction. The act was subconsciously done but the woman in the red boots took great offense, "What a bitch," she thought as Marie walked toward the bench.

Chapter Two: Now What?

Sitting on the floor with her against to the door Marie Voulez pulled out her cold almost stale-looking burger and motioned to her mouth to take the first bite. Something about this burger looked very peculiar, but Marie brushed it off. She had only had about 4 hamburgers, if that, within the perimeters of her entire life and figured she didn't have much insight into the regularity, or irregularity, of beef. Aside from her speculations the burger tasted like heaven, and upon finishing Marie lit a cigarette. Her usual eating routine.
Marie contemplated reading The Lord of the Flies but after looking at it's silhouette from across the room decided not to. Instead, Marie stood up from the floor and walked over to her vanity. Aside from the grungy and disturbing location of her life the apartment she occupied was actually quite nice. She had a large window from which a desk perched in front of. On it, rested a laptop, her pack of cigarettes, and black notebook/agenda. There was no clutter.
If anything the apartment resembled a studio flat, to which Marie was very fond of. As she sat at her vanity the decided to bring Lord of the Flies back to the library, she was never going to read it.
The next day Marie stepped out to a fairly blue sky. The air was not too warm or too cold, just the right temperature for the jacket her grandfather had given her. Her grandfather purchased it for her when he went to Germany for a ski trip. Marie remembered the way back to the library, one of the only places she knew the way to. Today Marie made sure to dress conservatively, hoping to avoid any remarks about payable sex.
A rather short library watched as Marie entered the library, Marie was being rather loud. The librarian hoped she would not have to tell her to be quiet, that was the one thing she hated most about working at the library. If it was at all possible this short librarian would get a different, better, louder job, but Wilshire didn't provide many prospets. Marie asked the librarian where the drop off box was, and the librarian explained that there was none. Homeless had been steeling books from it. Marie pondered the difficulty and worthwildness of stealing books from the drop off box, wouldn't it just be easier to steal from the inside of the library? Or, better yet, just go and read the book, inside? As Marie thought about this her face kind of went blank, and the librarian looked at her and waited for Marie to come to. As the librarian waited for Marie she took the book and typed on her computer, putting the book back into the system. She noticed that Ms. Marie Voulez had just taken the book out yesterday. There were only two reasons somone would return a book a day after the checked it out; either they loved it and read it in one day or she didn't like the book at all. By the looks of Marie the librarian theorized the latter of the two. Maybe she was drugs, the librarian thought. It wouldn't be the first time this had happened to the librarian.
Maire did not loo for a new book, like the librarian suggested. Instead she made the whole library ordeal last as short as possible. As she left she realized that she needed another pack of cigarettes as she lit her last one. On the way back to Wilshire Tower she stopped in at a liquar store called D&D. She got a pack of cigarettes, but instead of turning right to go home Marie took a left. The perfect chance to explore this bleek oasis. She walked all the way around to the other side of the block where there was a playground. As she walked past she saw two figures sitting on a bench chatting. Marie stopped to light another cigarette, giving her the change to pause and observe the two figures. It looked as though one was carrying a somewhat hefty instrument. The cigarette caught the flame and Marie resumed her walk.
Once arriving to Wilshire Tower she walked inside, greeting the man at the front desk and with a smile, entered her apartment and look a nap.

mmm, burgers.

Marie sat at her windowsill an looked out at the partly cloudy atmosphere. As she smoked her cigarette she wondered what the smoky smell was that slowly filled her apartment through her open windows. Marie's stomach began to churn from the heavy buzz of her cigarette the craving for a juicy hamburger. Marie's mother would never allow her to eat red meat due to it's calorie and fat percentage. Her mother's greatest fear was to have a fat child. Without putting out her cigarette she waltzed out the door toward the elevator. Before entering the elevator Marie thought about putting out her cigarette but didn't.
The pavement had that sort of smell it gets just after it's been raining. On the way to the kosher deli Marie lit another cigarette. The air must have had a lot of moister because each time Marie exhaled smoke, and partly steam, plunged from her lungs creating a momentary cloud with each drag. The Smorgaboard was a lot closer than expected and Marie lingered outside to finish her cigarette. Once finished, she entered and purchased her kosher hamburger. Since she was alone she didn't want to sit by herself even though on the walk most of the heat and freshness of her meal would diminish. This seemed, to Marie, a fair trade off.
Off in the distance was the library, and even though the burger was growing colder by the second Marie decided her need for a book was prevalent. The stale smell of the pavement made Marie question the class of her new city. Thoughts such a these filled her mind as she approached the library, surprisingly without lighting, yet again, another cigarette.
The library look grim. Just behind Marie another person entered the library. There was something peculiar about this person, but Marie turn around to see, all she noticed was the sound the door made as it opened and closed. The organization of this library was unfamiliar so Marie just walked to the first isle she saw, the magazine rack. There must have been something in her upbringing that gave her the innate ability to sense magazines wherever she was, it was embarrassing. She wanted to know what it felt like to be intellectual. The person who entered behind Marie b-lined right towards fiction and Marie followed. The smell of the hamburger trailing behind her. Through the rows Marie tried to observe the books this character was contemplating. Marie was never very good at sneaking about and after about 20 minutes the person she was stalking noticed.
Looking back at Marie through the shelf she heard, "Can I help you?," they said.
Marie was mortified, not only had she no idea what any of these books were, but now the person looking at them was looking at her. She had not idea what to say, and so, used the charm that her mother drilled into her head as a child, "Oh, hello," she said cranking up her french accent.
"...yes?" this person was very strange.
"I was just looking for a new book, I'm sorry."
"Well, I've always like this one," out thrusted was Lord of the Flies.
The book looked old and ragged, sort of like an old law book only much smaller. The person she had been talking to began to walk away. Marie was suddenly filled with sadness that this person was walking away, it was the most interaction she'd had in about a month.
"My name's Marie," she said stepping infront of them to make sure they wouldn't keep walking.
"I'm Osiris." Marie could tell that Osiris had no intention of furthering the interaction. So, Marie said the typical, "nice to meet you, thanks for the book, have a good day," and the two parted ways.
Marie checked out the book and began walking home, the burger now cold. Just before entering Wilshire a voice from the parking yell out, "HOW MUCH, BABY GIRL?" Marie was so completely terrified that she ran through the lobby, nearly had a heart attack whilst waiting for the elevator and crashed on the floor upon entering her apartment. This is no Saint-Nazaire.

Mr. Asian man

Marie sat down at her vanity and observed the plain reflection that did just the same to her as she to it. She never wore make up and the ownership of said vanity often baffled her.
Using her dead grandfather's zippo Marie lit a cigarette and watched as the smoke's transparency diffused across her face. "Two black eyes and no canceler," she said to her reflection, "shit." Marie walked over to the window and sat on it's ledge. Glancing at the poverty she thought so keenly to immense herself in. It was raining. Her heavy eye lids trudged across the street, there was a pile of trash. "Why did I come her?" she whispered hazily as smoke cascaded(flushed) from her mouth and nostrils.
She inhaled her next exhale and tossed her half smoked cigarette into the freezing rain. Marie stood up with the intention to shave her legs but something compelled her to watch the slow declining fall of her wasted cigarette. It landed on the border of a puddle but the ember remained orange. Just as Marie began to stand she saw, out of the corner of her eye, a cart. The cart stopped and from it a small fox like creature emerged. It hovered over her cigarette and after a moment of perplexity the fox-creature returned from where it emerged. Another moment passed but Marie's eyes pressed on ploring for the continuation of this strange occurrence. Sure enough, her hopes availed. The small hunched over man motoring the cart, like the fox-creature, walked out and hovered over the still embered cigarette. He picked the cigarette up, examined it, and took a drag, as if looking for a sign.
"Are you mad," she yelled five stories above.
"At you? I don't think," this man was very asian.
"Sorry?" hoping for a bit of elaboration. Marie thought it obvious that she was not asking the man if he was angry, but clearly the man clashed with this reasoning.
The asian man took a moment to really savor the taste of his drag and then looked up at Marie, "I don't think I'm mad at you." He looked contented as if that single drag answered his query with the cigarette and he resumed his duty of pushing his cart. Marie was quite befuddled by this speedy transaction and lingered at her window cill watching as the strange little man lumber away. Are these the people I am to coexist with, she wondered. The cart turned a corner and Marie went to shave her legs.

Chapter One: Moving In

"There's no elevator?"
"It's out of order at the moment. You'll have to use the stairs."
"My leg is broken..."
"I'm sorry, you'll have to use the stairs."
Both Marie and the man at the front desk glance over at the taxi driver who had just placed the last of her suitcases in the lobby. Among the one suitcase there were five more just like it in an assortment of shapes and sizes, she also had a small television and a bed frame. Unfortunately she lived on the fifth floor.
Marie groped in her pocket for the remainder of money she had left to her name. $108.76. She crutched over to where the taxi driver was standing waiting to be paid.
"Excuse me, sir," she said to the taxi driver, "could i pay you a little extra to bring that stuff up to my apartment?"
"What floor do you live on?"
"...Fifth."
For a moment the taxi driver looked at Marie with a quizzical brow as if to immediately say no, but then he looked at her; one broken leg, two black eyes, a broken nose and a neck brace.
"Sure," he said.
"I'd help you if-"
"It's quite alright., I understand."
After about another hour all of Marie's belongings were in her new home.