Creative Writing, Fashion, Fashion Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction

ZigZags and Selma

Tulisa had only a few minutes to pick a pair of shoes. Her pre-booked taxi driver had called 5 minutes ago reminding her of his presence. The extra charge was not the problem, her company directly paid for the costs, if he decided to leave, that would be the problem. Drivers had left her stranded in her closet on a few occasions. They often placed bets on which unfortunate soul would be summoned to drive Miss T. Rose to and from work in the week. She used to have one permanent driver, but he died and since no one would settle to be her driver. It was Abdullah’s week again. Miss Rose did not like Abdullah because he was the first driver annoyed enough to leave her stranded, which then set the pace for all preceding drivers.

 HONK! Tulisa frantically spun around to face the full length mirror that stood at the entrance of her closet room.  She wore a Tiffany white, cap-sleeved peplum dress and her hair fell down on one shoulder, like a fountain of lush chocolate. She thought about tying it up. The cough of the engine awoke her from her trance. She grabbed the brightest shoes that she could reach, her Nicholas Kirkwood Zigzags and ran barefoot through the hallway to the front door. She forgot her bag; she turned back to go to her room but immediately turned again to pull the door open. She waved at Abdullah and chucked her shoes on the floor. Holding up one finger she mouthed, ‘one second’. Abdullah gestured something back and put his foot down on the accelerator, the sound startled her.

 “Please,” she shouted, holding her hands together as if she was praying to him. Before he could accept or decline she was already back in her closet room, pulling together all the bits she’ll need for her day, into a pile on her bed. ‘iPad. Blackberry. Bank card. Keys. Keys, keys, keys. Oh my god, where are my keys. Okay. Ruby. Filofax.’ She stood for a moment motionless. Should she take the mandarin Selma because it was already out? Or should she take the white bag because her Kirkwoods were statement enough?

She took the mandarin Kors Selma bag because Abdullah had made her. He started shouting something into the house. She threw everything into it and ran to the back to the door, frowning. Shaking her head at him she lowered herself to pick up her shoes. With her large Kors bag unconventionally clutched under her arm and her Kirkwoods dangling from the other hand she attempted to pull the door shut with her calf. But her middy dress would not let her separate her legs enough.

Abdullah looked on from the car. Tulisa dropped the pair of shoes onto the floor once again, while she slipped her foot into one of them she pulled the door shut with her free hand. She turned and smiled at Abdullah as though she had done something genius. With both shoes on she headed over to the cab. Abdullah pushed a button on the steering wheel and the back door automatically opened as Tulisa approached it.

“Miss Rose” Abdullah said.

“Hi” she replied. 

Creative Writing, The Fine Line

The Jump

I had made a scene, it was evident. Everyone was staring, the children were pointing and the pirates were whispering to one another. But for the first time all year I had kicked off all my cares as I did with my clothes. I ran upto the top deck of the ship. If they didn’t want to join me, so be it. I was happy to go it alone.

The sun was high in a sky void of clouds, its beams darkening my skin more and more with every moment I stood in it. There was nothing around except sea. Deep, blue Mediterranean Sea, which seemed to collide with the soft blue of the sky over there in the distance. I looked down, over the edge of the ship and thought ‘fuck, this is high’, I shook my head to myself and turned back, everyone was still staring. All heads on deck turned up to look at me. I had caused a scene and now I had to live up to my word. My heart sank a little and then a little more as I told me self to close my eyes and jump. ‘Just close your eyes and jump. Just close your eyes and jump,’ I took a strained breath in; the hot air burned my nostrils. I farted – It was a side effect of nervousness.

I closed my eyes, ‘just close your eyes and jump,’ I stepped up onto the ledge that stood before me, ‘just close your eyes and jump,’ I opened my eyes. ‘Ah,’ this new height, this entire 5 ft and 7 inches extension was a deal breaker.

“Chaneen you’re crazy,” I heard one of my girls shout. I agreed momentarily and decided they, nor anyone else on this ship, could judge me.

“She’s not going to do it,” I heard another say. My head jerked back and looked scornfully at the worried faces that were determining my fate. Who was she to tell me I wasn’t going to do it, that I couldn’t do it. Was I the one stood beside her on the middle deck of the ship looking up at myself? I could do more than she..

The fall was peaceful, until the adrenaline exploded inside me.  The waves of hot air caressed me tenderly; I lifted my arms so I could fly before I landed. That was a mistake caused by my divided attention. The heart that had sunk a short few second ago had now arisen and situated itself in my throat before working its way into my head. The crash was not unlike the adrenaline explosion that threw me off the edge of that ship. Submerged in water a fizzing began in my throat and nose; it was like pepper but apparently it was only the salt in the water. I could not feel a ground to push my feet against to fly back through the water in the opposite direction. I could not find any air, I was drowning and the deceit of adrenaline made me feel more alive than ever before.  I opened my eyes. I could see a navy blue surface. Still struggling to swim upward I tilted my head as much as I could, I saw the sky, I saw a bird or two and I could breathe again.

“DUDE!” I never say dude. “Dude. That was awesome” I shouted looking up to the three round blurs that were various shades of brown. I wiped my eyes and blinked. “Amazing. That was amazing.”

“Wait there, let me get a picture” one of them said. I ignored that request because I still did not have my 20/20 vision back, the pepper was burning my nose and throat with every breathe in and I was still quite a distance from the ship.

I was a jelly fish getting back to the ship. There were  people climbing up and down the ladder, having conversations on the ladder and taking pictures on the ladder. Surely they were taking the piss. Surely they just saw the jump from the top deck that none of them had experienced, endured and, might I add, suffered. I needed to get back onto the ship. A man swam passed me from behind and somehow mounted the wall of the lower deck and climbed on. How on earth? I grabbed through the crowd onto the ladder, my face almost half an inch under some lady’s buttocks. I head-butted her softly to encourage her to move, she looked down and I looked up and kept moving towards her. She had no choice but to move upwards.

I was greeted by the smiles of my fellow staring passengers and a pat on the back of a very young very handsome pirate. He said something in Turkish; I said yes with a nod and smiled. The stares, I didn’t mind so much anymore, at least now there was a reason.

Creative Writing

Sorry For My Abscence

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around for a while baby. It’s just, life has seemed to get the better of me recently” I said to my nine year old mini-me.

“It’s okay ma. I know how you mean. It’s the same with me some times; I have school and I have ballet classes, music lessons, swimming lessons, crochet and I was thinking about taking up language lessons, but I’m not sure. It would be nice to spend more time together.” My baby said rambling on. It made me chuckle a little bit, but I still felt bad. We were two very involved but very busy beings.

“Okay,” I smiled, how about you take up your languages classes, because believe me you  it will be rather beneficial when you are my age. I’ve only got a few weeks left of my French classes and then I will have an extra day and I will dedicate it to you? How about that?”

“Yaaaaaay! A Mini-me and Mommy Day. You might have to shift a day because my language classes are on a Saturday so technically it wouldn’t change anything.”

“Yeah sure thing baby. I am my own boss. Anyway I am sorry for not being around and I am going to make it up to you. Let’s get breakfast”

“I’ve already made breakfast” she said pulling back the covers from my almost empty queen size bed. “Come on.”

I gave her my hand and followed her through the hall and down the stairs to the dining room. There was a copy of Vogue on the table beside her mini ipad, which was opened on the kiddie vogue page on Pintrest, there were two tea cups opposite each other. Black coffee in both, toast, jams, milk and a box of Cheerios.

“Good morning Mom” she said grinning up at me. I stroked her head.

“I love you baby. Thanks”

We sat opposite each other. I was in awe of this little girl, she was so delightful to be around. I took a sip of my luke-warm coffee, I really couldn’t complain. After another sip I half choked and half spat out the coffee. The white linen table clothe, my pyjamas and chin were covered in brown stains.  Mini-me was mimicking me, sipping at her tea cup full of coffee.

“You’re drinking coffee? Black Coffee?!” I said. She looked at me for a second, stunned. Then she burst out in laughter, like a small child being tickled by blooby. Her words and her laughter intertwined.

“I.. I..” her laughter continued, “no…” and continued, “it..” and continued.

She was clearly high. How much coffee had she drank before I came down? Her laugher continued. I shook my head and confiscated her coffee. It was far colder than mine. I rolled my eyes and shook my head again and reached for my magazine, which had also been a victim of my splutter incident.

About 10 minutes later she stopped laughing. “It’s not normal coffee mom”, she said giggling.

“It had better not be. You’re far to young to bee hooked on anything.” I said in the most mom like tone I had even used.

“Taste it” she said offering a face as serious as she could pull off. I squinted my eyes at her a little, trying to read that seriousness.

“O kay.” I picked up the confiscated tea cup and help it to my lips. The thought of cold coffee made me cringed. I sipped and I spat. It was another accident, I couldn’t contain my laughter. It was coca-cola. She poured herself some coca-cola just too look like mom. My mini-me hated coca-cola.

We sat there laughing for most of the morning. We ate and talked and read, or flicked through pages looking at pictures, occasionally showing one another something ultra cute or ultra awesome.