Sarah’s Chronicles is finally following the course I planned. It took a while, But I finally figured out how to incorporate the original ending I wrote last January. The original piece I wrote will see many changes, but this entire work will become more fluid and engrossing, and it’ll feel like a real story. When I’m done with all of it, I’ll edit it into a cohesive novelette of sorts. Good luck to me. Enjoy!
Issues
Rod Tanzol
It was a humdrum school day like any other. Students underappreciated their free and mandatory educations. The day was little warm but breezy. Some students were breaking sweats, while others complained of the breezes that came through open windows. The day was a long one. It was noon when Sarah left reality.
She stared at her shoes and admired their color and texture. She took special note of the various straps and stitching. They were wonderful shoes. However, she looked at them with a loyalty to her recent despair and hopelessness.
The bell rang. She left her class. She was all too observant of the student body’s footwear. In the hall, she interrupted a kissing couple to ask the lady, “Where did you get your shoes? I love them!”
“Oh,” the girl responded, “I got them at DSW!” Her boyfriend seemed upset as his lips rested.
Sarah did not know the girl well, but she had seen her in the halls before. She resolved, “I must go there!” The bell rang, and all the students ran off to their appropriate destinations. Sarah, however, took her time. She went to her locker, and changed her shoes. In the process, Casey managed to sneak up behind her.
“What’s up?” the younger Cruz sister enthusiastically inquired. The shock of the moment caused Sarah to fall forward into her locker. He shoulders were caught at its frame. Three pairs of shoes tumbled out of her locker. “What are those?” Casey asked.
Sarah rushed to hide them back in her locker. “Oh, It was just a spare pair of shoes incase these ones,” she pointed down at her precious shoes, “hurt or something.”
“Are you sure?” Casey asked although she new Sarah was lying. “You have a problem.”
Sarah laughed. “Everybody has been saying that lately. I don’t know why everyone thinks that,” she explained nervously.
“Stop trying to hide it. You’re obsessed with shoes!” Casey divulged.
Sarah’s nostrils flared and her eyebrows slanted fiercely. “Go to class before you get detention!” she roared with a tone of anger and caring. Casey ran off so that she would not face the wrath of Sarah. Once she calmed, Sarah affirmatively lied to herself, “I don’t have a problem at all!”
Sarah went to lunch, but she did not eat. Her soul found satisfaction in disparity. She sulked. No one could lift her spirits. Joe spoke to her regardless of any confirmation that she could hear him or that she was listening, “Sembri disperata come una puttana senza scarpe o di un cliente.”
She looked at Joe flatly and said sans zeal, “I don’t know Italian, Joe. Stop acting crazy.”
With eyes that looked sincere and a pout to mach, Joe asked, “Stai triste?”
With her limited knowledge of Spanish, the inflection of Joe’s voice, and the clues from his face, she inferred his words’ meaning and constructed her response. “No, I’m not,” she lied blindly. Both parties knew the truth.
“Is something wrong?” he asked seriously.
“No,” she responded, “I’d just rather be buying shoes than be in school.”
“I presume that’s what you did yesterday. Was it not successful?” Joe asked interrogatively.
“Yes, I cut school to buy shoes. Yes, I bought some wonderful shoes. However, I want more. I no matter how much I like a shoe, I just can’t find the right pair.”
“Don’t despair, you’ll find it,” Joe declared. However, “it” was not a thing he hinted.
The period passed, but Sarah remained to herself only commenting occasionally to the table about their conversation. Before the end of the period, she hit Joe for his attention and asked, “What did you say to me in Italian before?”
“Oh,” Joe sighed than laughed. He smirked and continued, “I said, ‘You desperate like a whore without shoes or a client.’”
“I am not a shoe-whore,” Sarah laughed.
“I know,” Joe said. He paused and chuckled, “You’re more like a scarpemanic… or at least you could be if the term were real.” Sarah glared at him with austere bemusement. Joe knew to elaborate, “I think that you are a shoe-aholic!”
Sarah wanted to tell him off, but the bell rang, and Joe ran to his next class. She resorted to texting to defend her habits. She typed, “I don’t have a problem!” (Alas, she typed that meaning, albeit with fewer characters.) Sarah was content for the moment. The truth of the matter was that neither one of the two had truly won the argument. Joe was spouting nonsense based in truth while Sarah was in denial. The world seemed in balance.
That night, she IM’d Cisco. She forwent the usual conversations via Skype and returned to her past methods of international communication. Her beloved maple-sucker was perplexed, not buy the alcohol content of his syrup but by her actions. She claimed that her throat was sore, but she really did not want him to hear the inherent dolefulness of her voice.
Cisco: r u sure ur alrite?
Sarah: why wouldnt I be alright?
Cisco: Well… I jst thnk that u hvn’t bn urself lately…
Sarah: don’t be so concerned. it isnt so bad
Cisco: I MISS YOU!
Sarah’s heart imploded, her eyes swelled, and her soul bled tears. She ended the conversation and went to her closet. She dumped countless pairs of shoes before her and tried them on. She laughed and felt a warm tingle inside. Albeit ephemeral, the feeling sufficed until morning.
-|-|-
In the morning, Sarah found that something in her room was amiss. The objects on her desk stood askew. Even stranger, there was a webcam clipped to the top of her monitor, and taped to her monitor was a hand written note from Casey. It read, “I know you hate webcams, but you need this. I found Cisco’s address, and I ordered one for him. I hope you use it well and often!”
Sarah smiled. Had her sister done something beneficent for her? Sarah thought it over and concluded, “No, video chats just use more bandwidth. Our connection is already slow enough. That evil wrench only knows how to use up bandwidth!” She then felt violated. She asked herself, “Am I that deep of a sleeper that I didn’t hear my sister come into my room and fuck with my computer.
Sarah tried blocking out any negative feelings. However, she had few positive ones, and she, therefore, went to school with a cold, unfeeling demeanor. The day was a blur, and Sarah couldn’t give a damn about anything.
-|-|-
A few days later, she had her first video chat with Cisco who received his camera. She dolled up and straightened her hair for the occasion. She cleaned her room behind her, and adjusted all of her writing. Their conversation was nothing spectacular, but it made her smile. It was her first genuine smile in months. It was nice to see him. Sure, she had looked at photos of him, but it was first time in years that she could see the expressions on his face and the love he held in his eyes. The only question of substance was this, “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”
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