Sunday, February 2, 2014

Rain Americano

I was going into London the other day, and I always take the Oxford Tube, a double-decker bus. I always sit at the very top at the very front so that I can see everything along the way. Buses make me sleepy, so I got a massive coffee to sip during the journey (it always makes me have to pee so bad by the time I get to London, but I never learn my lesson).
There was only one other person on the bus when we headed out in the early morning. We hadn’t quite gotten out of Oxford, and I realized that I had something in my boot. I put my coffee on the little shelf in front of me, propped between a rail and the window. During the four seconds that I had to fiddle with my shoe the bus dipped into a pothole, and my coffee exploded out of my cup. It literally splashed up all around, and completely soaked the window in front of me.
In the post-spill panic I tried to decide if I should sneak to the loo and get tissues to wipe it up, or if I should sacrifice my scarf—just before the bus driver could notice that I’d made such a mess. But then to my horror, before I could do anything, he pulled the bus over and stopped it.
“What happened up here?” he asked when he’d ascended the stairs.
I explained, and instead of getting mad he smiled and started teasing me. He’d said that he’d never seen rain that color before—apparently it had all spilled down onto the windshield below.
“I’m going to warn the other drivers about you!”

Sunday, January 26, 2014


In my creative writing club, we were talking about what makes a good story, and what sort of details make a story convincing. So I decided to tell ghost stories with the girls.

Since the sun sets at 4:00, it was already dark outside when we turned off the lights and sat in a circle on the floor. We used a cell phone to light up our faces as we told all of the cliché stories. It got a bit scarier every time we heard one that hadn’t been told before.

One girl told a story about a woman who murdered her boyfriend and threw him into the river behind her house. At night, when she was in her bathroom, she saw him standing by the river through the window. She ran outside, but he wasn’t there. Every night the figure got closer to the window, so she shut the curtain.
Anyway, the story builds up, and is scary, and has windows in it. After the girl finished there was a stunned silence in the room until one of the other girls said, “Has the window been open the whole time!?”
And at that moment a breeze came in through the window of the classroom, ruffling the curtains. We all screamed, even me!

I hope they didn’t get too distracted from their homework in the library.
We turned on the lights and told some happy stories before getting back into theory.

I was a little bit scared locking up the school that night.


In my Keep Fit club we watched a few workout videos, and we sprinted around the gym a few times. We were pretty tired, so we were doing some stretches as a cool down. And as it happens, we started telling stories. For some reason the conversation was birds.
I told them a story about a bird flying into our living room window. I was distressed when I went outside, expecting doorbell ditchers, to find a little broken bird.
“Is it dead?” I asked, my eyes tearing a bit before I could help it.
“No, no.” My mom said. “Sometimes they just get stunned after hitting the glass, and it will regain consciousness in a few minutes.”
My dad walked over to have a look, with all of the tact in the world, “Yeah, that’s dead.”

The girls giggled. And then one of my favorite girls decided to follow my story.
“I have a bird story, and it’s like, the opposite of yours.” She said. She’s hilarious. She’s always so excited, and she talks with animated hand gestures. “So I was out in my yard and I saw a bird nest. And it had a little egg in it. And I took it out of the tree and I put it in my room. And then there were these birds freaking out outside my window. And my mom found it and asked where I got the nest. And I said I got it from school. And the birds kept freaking out, so I started to panic, because of my mom and the birds, so I just threw it out the window.”
She never found out what happened to it. It was a bit dark, but I was in stitches for the whole rest of the evening.