Writing Challenge #2 - setting and character

[Mlle Bienvenu]

Create a setting for one or more of the following and furnish with place with one or more characters - you create the character through the observation of the setting. The place can be any kind of: house, specific room, outdoors, office, cafe, bar, beds, cellor, anything

Avoid steriotypes

For characters, you may choose from:
unsuccesful painter
high school senior about to flunk out
down on their luck cocktail waitress
blind person
lunatic fringe government party person
foster child
social climber
paranoid person
fugitive from the law
cashier who just won the lottery

[Hermione Snape]

Umm... where do we put the responces to these challenges? I've got some ideas for this one but I don't know where I'm supposed to post them.

[Mlle Bienvenu]

You can put them right here in this thread, like I did with the other one.

[Hermione Snape]

Alright, I'll do it! ;D This all has been thought up on the spot so please ignore all grammatical and spelling errors, k? Thanks! Oh, and /../ means thoughts.



She sat on her unmade bed, staring absently at the blank, white walls. /They wouldn't get her here, oh no. They couldn't find her here. This was her place, her room. They could never get her... here/

Her eyes flicked from the shade drawn over the window to the triple bolted door. /No lights, they might see. Can't let them see you, no! Never let them see you! What horibble things they might do.../

She shook her head, her greasy, stringy hair lightly whipping her face, and slowly crawled off of the bed. /No fast movements now.../ Standing in the center of the room, she glanced at her surroundings. Food hidden inside the wardrobe /They might find it and poison it otherwise/, dozens of cases of bottled water stood stacked in a corner /The tap water's all been tampered with!/, her clothes in a pile from when she yanked it all out of the wardrobe. Not that she needed it. /I always wear the same clothes,/ She cackled slightly. /They might have put some kind of tactile poison on it! And it all had been washed in tap water anyway! Tap water can't be trusted!/

Slinking slightly, she walked to the bathroom door. She had been comforted by the thought that she would never have to leave to go to the bathroom. /To many opportunities for them otherwise!/ Her eyes darted wildly in her head at the mere thought. She got a cup and, careful to not let any touch her skin, filled it with water. /Not to drink... never drink that, never use that, it's been tampered with!/ She then slunk over to where her plants grew.

She ducked and slowly reached out her arm. It was terrifying to be this close to the window but she had to. She knew that one day her supply of ramen, canned goods and all things non-refridgerated would run out. And so she grew plants. Edible plants. Flats of carrots, radishes, herbs and other smaller types of plants, pots of tomatoes and larger vegetables, and many small potted fruit and nut trees sat against the wall by the window.

Not only did they provide her food but she had her own oxygen! /They tried to poison my air! I know they did! But I foiled them. Yes, I foiled them!/ She cackled again, thinking of her triumph.

A sudden knock on the door broke her from her musing and flooded her mind with panic. /Did they find me? Can they get in!!! No! They musn't get in!!!/

"Honey, won't you come out yet? You've been in there over a month..." A worried female voice sounded in the stillness. "Please, won't you come out? Speak to me!"

Utter silence was her reply as she cowered on the floor. /Maybe if they think I'm not here, they'll go away.../ She listened anxiously, almost painfully, as the speaker waited and, finally, walked away.

She sat completely still on the floor at least half an hour before she relaxed. /Gone, they're gone. Knew that'd work.../ She went back to watering her plants, lost, alone, trapped within her thoughts of shadows, poison, food, hiding, and them.



P.S. This was about a paranoid person in a room. If you couldn't tell. As for why I thought of this in response to the challenge, I don't know. Just seems a much milder form of this is what I got through some days and I thought I'd write it out.

[Hermione Snape]

Oh, except I don't do the 'them' thing. Just thought I'd clarify that a little! ;D

[Mlle Bienvenu]

Ooo, I like it very much! Very interesting! Thank you for being the first to take a stab at one of the challenges.

[Hermione Snape]

Sure thing! I might try another one some other time too. It's fun! And glad you liked it. I wasn't sure if anybody would...

[Sailor Earth]

Ooh that was cool Maybe I'll do one a bit later...

[Hermione Snape]

lol! That's what you always say!

[Sailor Earth]

*lol* I know I get too caught up in designing stuff and writing my stories to remember

[LassyD]

Woo hoo, i'm having fun with these, but i really should be studying, oh well. it's short and i'm not saying who it is, i'll have ya guess.

$7.64, that’s what the little black words on the bottom of the little white slip of paper said. Slowly dragging his eyes from the imposing ink to the haggard looking woman standing next to the shinny red booths and scratched up tabletop.

“I’ll be you’re cashier when you’re ready” she said tiredly before turning and scuttling to another table. He turned his eyes back to the little white paper, and the dirty hand that held it. Splotches of color that just wouldn’t go away no matter how much he washed his hands, decorated his fingers and the back of his hand, fading from the skin and onto the flannel that rested just above it. The cuff was tattered and worn. Of course it would be worn, it was his work flannel, to prevent the colors from seeping onto the rest of his skin, tainting him with the meritocracy that was his life.

Putting the paper onto the red surface, he gave a small sigh and stood. The search for loose change so familiar that he figured out when one stands, it’s easier to get to those small coins that try to hide in the corners of pockets. After dropping everything from his search on the table, he sat to count the change and the small bills. The small crumpled things hadn’t been with him for long, but that’s the way life was. The harder you scrounge for money, the faster it seems to fly away.

Uncrumpling the bills, he found that there would be just enough to cover the price of his meal. Leaving all he had on the table, he hoped that the haggard woman wouldn’t be too angry about not getting a tip. He’d watched her the whole time he sat, waiting for and eating his meal. She seemed stressed, the tension showed in her posture. Her eyes held a distracted air as if she couldn’t remember if she was going to have enough in her next paycheck to pay for her children’s clothes. He’d seen the like before. Not many other types work this late at night, especially on a Friday.

Turning to the exit, he whispered a quick “good luck” before vanishing out the door.

[LassyD]

And from the other angle, hehe

Red, that’s all she ever saw, day in and out. The garish red of her work’s interior. Red booths that have gone limp with age, the impressions of countless people sitting in the same spots. Scratches covered most of the table tops and counters that she had to wipe clean after a customer left. A glance to the red rimmed clock showed that break time was over. She stood, Three hours and she could get home to her boy. A small smile crossed her face as she thought of her little boy, the sandy blond mop of hair flopping in bright blue eyes. He always seemed to smile when she came home, somehow knowing that was what she needed. It gave her enough to get her through getting him ready for school.

Her smile faded as she realized that she needed to get him a new book bag, his was falling apart and they could no longer keep it together. She trudged onto the serving floor hoping that there wouldn’t be too many drunks this night. The local college was having finals, so there was a good chance that most of her rowdy customers would be home studying. Or so she hoped.

Taking a quick glance over her area, she noticed only a few people. In one of the booths near the window sat a younger looking man, probably in his early thirties, his scruffy black hair hung over the collar of his paint speckled flannel. A table a little further away held a quiet couple whom only had a drink a piece. Going to the cash register, she printed out the receipts for both tables.

“Sir?”
The man looked up, his face scruffy as if he hadn’t shaved in a while, the dark brown eyes looking at her speculatively. He gave a soft thank you before grabbing the receipt and looked at, almost as if studying the contours of the letters.
“I’ll be your cashier when you’re ready.” she said before moving to the couple.
“Here’s your bill, and I’ll be your cashier when you’re ready.” She said handing the man the slip. He smiled and said “thank you.”
She slipped past without noting the thanks. One of the tables in the back hadn’t been cleaned. Pulling a small rag from her serving apron, she collected the plates and glasses then wiped the surface, noting the dim lighting refracting the scratches in the gloss. Turning to return the dirty dishes to the back, she noticed the scruffy man pulling everything he had out the pockets of his tattered pants and onto the table. With a sigh she realized that probably meant he didn’t’ have enough for a tip.
She passed near him on the way to the kitchen and heard his softly whispered “good luck” as he left the bar.

i don't think it's as good, but oh well