Writing trials

This tumblr contains short stories written by Paulina Sánchez.

[writingtrials]

Light is loving and giving

The lights flashed inside the club, scintillating as if they were the music itself enveloping her. The purples and neon lights shined on her silver hair; she stood in the middle of the empty dance floor, swaying off beat to the music. 

“How long has she been like this?” the policeman asked a young woman by the bar. 

“Since I came an hour ago, she broke in through the back, broke the glass and let herself in. She turned on the music and the lights, I just found her like this, not sure when she broke in.”

The music stopped, the lights froze. 

“Okay lady, time for you to go back home. What’s your name? Where do you live?” The policeman said as he approached the woman who had not stopped swaying, she wrapped her arms around herself, one across her chest, another across her waist. She smiled softly as she swayed, as if the music were still holding her to the movement. 

“Come now, let’s take you home, my name is Curtis, what’s yours?” Curtis said softly, placing his hand on her shoulder. 

She stopped slowly opened her eyes, as if waking from a dream. “What?”

“What’s your name?” Curtis asked again.

“I’m Leonore, I’m terribly sorry but I don’t know what’s happening. I’ll just head home now.” Leonore said, looking around once and heading to the front door of the club. 

“Wait! Who’s gonna pay for the door lady?!” the young woman said, looking from the policeman to the woman. 

But the woman was already on her way out the door and as soon as the young woman and the policeman walked outside into the afternoon sun, she was gone. 

Leonore opened the door to the house, stepped in and placed her keys on a conch by the phone near the door. She opened the first door on the left and walked into the library, the walls were lined with books, around the desk were piles of books as well. She sat behind the desk, took a large book from one of the piles and opened it. Inside were to do lists dating back years. She wrote down:

“August 16, 2070 ºSend payment for door to club”

She closed the book, sighed and took the next book in the pile, larger than the last. It was filled with ticket stubs from museums, movies, and buses. There were some pressed flowers and a napkin from a club could be seen sticking out. She got to a page that was half full, no longer with stubs but small notes:

“Going to the park, watched sunset holding your hand”

“Took a trip to the zoo, ate fries and fed the ducks. We laughed so much”

“Went to our favourite restaurant, still can’t finish the lasagna without your help”

She then added:

“Broke into our favourite jazz club, we danced all night, it was hard to find the rhythm...”

She looked at the book, smiled, and closed it slowly; she sat back and watched as the sunlight poured through the window. 

[writingtrials]

Lay down

The floor beneath us offers some relief from the heat; the wind from the fan comes and goes in an endless cycle, soothing as it passes over us. We lay on the floor snoozing, our eyes closed, moving as little as necessary, touching only enough to know that we are still there with each other. My back aches from the floor and my arms go numb if I don’t move them from time to time. From where I lay I can see the cat, sleeping by the door, the fluff of his body fleeting as the wind touches him. He startles awake every few minutes as the curtain in front of the door grazes his ear; he randomly reaches forward with his paws, flickers his whiskers and sticks out his tongue, catching birds in his dreams.

Outside I can hear the chickens, roosters, birds and various other creatures calling to each other, "it's time to eat! This is my tree! Leave me alone!". That's what I imagine them saying. But in this place no one is ever really alone, a salamander will scurry on the ceiling while you sleep, scorpions will hide under your bed seeking the cold, and your love will lie next to you fast asleep. Sleep is as much as one can do around here at this time of day: noon. Noon, when the sun is high and casts sunshine everywhere, ignoring the clouds and warming up this part of the world. We can only sleep, saving energy for the night when we can go back out to the world.

We lay on this floor, him snoring, me thinking. Thinking because my brain hasn't caught up to this thing called naps, only when the heat is too much does my brain lose the battle and surrenders into sleep. Meanwhile I think. I think about writing this, whatever it is. A study of sleep, of heat, of love, of life.

[writingtrials]

One Dance

Movement, just moving through our body, feeling every inch of our body move along to the music, a bit slow and then fast and strong. A dance, not just us and the music but us, the air, the floor, the light that bounces off our hair and our skin. Feeling everything in those very short minutes of music and flow. The flow that is not only external but also internal, within our bones, our lungs, our heart. Breathing with the music, each breath a specific movement, some light and fluid others strong and decisive. There is nothing like it, nothing like dancing like that; after all the practice, after all the pain, after all the time spent. A dance, one dance is all we ask, one dance that is everything, perfect and that unites us to the universe, to it all, a dance that doesn’t ask for more than a final breath, a smile a satisfied sigh, a gasp! A dance that leaves us high, a high like no other, our bodies full of adrenaline and the desire to do it again, and again, and again. That is us, dancers. Us who won’t give up, us who will go through it all for that one dance. The one perfect dance. 

[writingtrials]

Hands

Hands. Hands are all I see, touch, smell; I even hear them from time to time. In front of me today I had a gorgeous set with long fingers, wide thumbs and the widest nails I had seen in a while. Hands perfect for picking grapes without getting stuck in the vine and for holding the whole bunch without any small branches hanging loose. You see, we live in a world where we no longer put value on pieces of paper that people acquired by spending money on private or public institutions; none of that exists anymore. Now, when a person turns 16 they are sent to a handler. I am the handler for section 8.62 in area 206. I examine each person’s hands and place them on the job that best fits their hands. My hands? Oh, well, I actually don’t have any, that’s what makes me perfect for this job. I was born just with thumbs; they are strong but sensitive and can tell the texture, the strength, the flexibility of each finger, thumb and surface on the hand. Having no hands makes us appreciate the ones in front of us; most handlers are missing most fingers at least. The handler in section 5.32 in our area doesn’t even have thumbs, he uses what are only his palms and he is excellent at his job, 97/100 correct placements. I see all kinds of hands for all kinds of jobs. A week ago I placed a neurosurgeon, this person had very strong middle fingers, the right pinky finger was very flexible while the left was steady. Both of her thumbs had thick skin, her nails flexible and not at all sharp, she will never break a glove. I 100% guarantee it. The best thing about my job are the perks I get if I make good placements, especially if these placements are of the glamorous type. For example, my second year as a handler I placed a pianist who would become the greatest pianist of this century. You see, he had excellent flexibility on both hands; he had long fingers and small nails. He also happened to have 13 fingers, 6 on the right and 7 on the left. So, he became a famous pianist and I was sent invitations to his concerts, a place of honor at his table. You see, I see the talent in their hands, someone else could have sent him to become an audio typist or something of the sort. Can people change if they don’t like it? What do you mean? I mean everyone is good at what they do! They don’t have difficulty doing their job! Why should they not like it? You must understand that it is rare for people nowadays to ask themselves if they like their job, they do their job because it was given to them by their handler and they never question that. It’s the same as when the fortune teller used to tell people that they would meet the love of their life in their next vacation trip. They believed it and fell in love with the person they met. It is destiny! If everyone believes that their placement is their destiny then there is no reason to be unhappy. There used to be these people called palm readers, they would tell you your future, your love life, how long you would live, your money situation in ten years. I am the real deal, I can tell you if you can write, if you can build skyscrapers, if you are meant to sit and play video games the rest of your life. I have made a bad placements, I am still human you know? Anyway, this person comes in and she has these small puffy hands, I mean you could not feel her bones, her hands are squishy, like pillows. Still, her hands were relatively strong so I sent her off to be a masseuse. I was incredibly wrong. She didn’t have large enough hands for that or enough strength on her thumbs. So, they sent her back to me and, after realizing my mistake I sent her off to build sand castles, she actually won first place at the annual world championships! So yeah, that’s me and my job. I am still wondering why an officer of the law is interviewing me? Have I done something wrong? You want me to talk about Mr. Ross. He came in and sat down, didn't seem nervous as his hands were not sweating (that's usual in nervous teens you know?) He had large hands, his fingers were thick with sharp and hard nails. Very uniform hands really, no finger stood out in any way. I thought of three possible scenarios for him, he could work with the deforestation teams, even though there isn't much if that going on any more. He could be a pool cleaning guy but his hands were not very tan, he didn't spend much time out in the sun, which told me that it wouldn't be a good fit for him. The last option was that he could work making rope. You know, rope used for ships, crates, etc, he would be able to separate the threads very easily with his nails, his skin is tough so he wouldn't be hurt as bad by rope burn. Finally, his long fingers would be able to hold the thicker ropes made for sailing ships and such. I placed him with the Ropers 136 days ago. The latest report on Placement 142 from this year? I just got his latest report for his latest completed job, it should be here in my inbox… Wait, there’s another one…                                                   Incident Report

                                                                                                 Day  267 Year 2184

Placement #142-2184 Status: Deceased C.O.D.: Asphyxia by hanging

Statements:     Officer Williams: “A 911 call was made from the residential area #36 on 61 street by a Mr. Brown from Ropers Co. who had gone to Mr. Ross’ residence to ask for his missing signature on a shipment annex that was to depart that day (266-2184). He found the body and called for help. We arrived on scene 15 minutes later to find the window broken and Mr. Brown outside the residence in obvious distress”     Paramedic Raleigh: “The subject was hanging from the ceiling fan. He was not breathing and had no pulse at the time we arrived. We got the rope but there was nothing else we could do”     Mr. Brown: “I knocked but there was no answer. I knew that I had to get that signature, otherwise we can’t send the shipment. I looked through the window, I figured he could be asleep or something… I saw him hanging from the ceiling in the back room, At first I thought it was a doll or something but I recognised the company logo on his shirt… I can’t… I didn’t even talk to him…” Authorities found no note. Attached are images from the scene. Please take into consideration for future placements. An officer will come to interview you for a statement shortly.                                              James S. Carrowy                              Director of the Department of Handlers I don’t believe this… he was doing so well at his job! What do I know about the incident? Well everything, and apparently nothing... I am constantly updated on the status of each of my placements. He did well on the job, his hands were perfect for it. His supervisor did report that he was often isolated, would not talk to people and would often stay later to work on the ropes. His coworkers stated that he was "work-driven". On paper he seemed like a 16 year old immersed in his new job. I saw no problems at the time. I should have seen it though… three dozen days ago I got reports of that he was taking ropes home. They said that he would take the thinner ropes used for tying small crates on large cargo ships together. Those ropes are about 1/4 inch thick and can be made fairly quickly. Even though it was unusual, I assumed that he was taking them home as a hobby, like some people like to crochet or build ships in bottles he probably was honing his skills at home with the small ropes. Nothing pointed to this, like I said, he was doing great at his job! A large order for a new sailboat came in about 36 days ago and the report from a dozen days ago said that he was working harder than ever; this was about 100 days into his placement, 35 days before this... That job would usually take about 50 days to complete; Mr. Ross completed it in record time of 34 days. I don’t understand, after 100 days without incident people don’t get a change in their placement, if he was not good at his job he would have been switched before this time, as many times as needed. He was clearly good at it... The report says that he was found in his room, hanging from the ceiling fan with a small but sturdy rope that he probably made the previous night after finishing the last job judging from the resin on his hands and the rope. The images attached show that all around the room were other similar ropes, with different threading designs on them, some look like ancient Celtic symbols, others have different geometric shapes woven into the threads, quite a few of them have triangles... The rope he chose had bird like designs, it looked as if they were flying all around the rope, upwards into the ceiling. A beautiful design for sure… What a waste... I realize my mistake of course. He should have been placed outside, in the pool or out in the trees, like I had imagined at first…. He was disconnected from everyone and by placing him inside, in a job that required little contact with other people was a mistake. A big mistake… Mr Carrowy is right, I need to take this into consideration for future placements. What do I recommend in the future? It's difficult to know how someone who is already troubled will react in a environment, some mistakes, such as the woman with soft hands, are easy to correct, others, like Mr. Ross are irreversible. I certainly wish I had seen it but this teaches me that I need to improve, maybe I misjudged Mr. Ross, and maybe I need to consider that people aren’t always happy with were they end up and I have the power to change that. If you would excuse me, I have 3 placements to make this afternoon. Yes, if you have any questions feel free to contact me… Handler 8.62 206 sat down and looked out the window. The sun was setting, in a world where no one is given any choices in life; where 90% of people thrive in their jobs thanks to handlers like him. Sometimes, like at that moment, Handler 8.62.206 felt the weight of the other 10%... There was a knock at the door. Come in! Happy 16th birthday! Please sit down and place your hands on the cushion in front of you...