Let's write a book.

[[...]]

I will start out by writing the first couple of sentences in our book. The next person who responds adds another sentence or two, so on on so forth.

 

With all the different personalities involved, this could be a real fun and interesting story. Don't worry about using quotation marks or proper grammar. This is just for fun and entertainment.

 

The first two sentences of our Pulitzer prize winning novel begins like this.............

 

She stepped off the Greyhound bus, carrying an orange colored cat, and a beat-up suitcase, held together by a piece of frayed rope. Her pretty face bore a confident, don't mess with me look.

 

[[tr...]]

She had always lived a difficult life and so, this was her chance to start all over. When she ran away from foster care...it was a conscious choice. From here on in, I am the boss of my own destiny - that was her new mantra. The smoggy, city air wafted across the bus terminal; while debris was picked up and blew round her. "So this is the big city", she thought. "I hope they're prepared because here I come", she giggled. She lays her suitcase down on the cement, while struggling with her feline friend. "Crazy Cat, you be good", she props the orange hued feline up against her shoulder. Then picks up the suitcase with her free hand, and begins to make her way through the crowds of people, who brush past her.    

[[Ka...]]

She senses more than feels a fleeting touch on her shoulder.  Crazy Cat begins to wrestle her grip as it tightens ever so slowly.  She turns, and to her astonishment, sees a person who appears to be someone from her distant past.  A  faint smile on his face tells her that he not only recognizes her, but senses that she in turn also realizes who he might be...a chill runs through her body.  All her new-found bravado disappears.

 

[[...]]

Her mind was turning faster than the wheels on the bus that carried her here. We have to run, Crazy cat, we have to get away from him. Panting, and out of breath, she ran up to a cop and sobbed uncontrollably in her gentle, yet strong arms. What's your name?, where are you from? ,why are you running?, inquired the cop.

 

[[Ka...]]

Roxanne Rivera Lee...I'm running away from the foster home.  I just saw a man who is a relative from that family.  I last saw him about 5 years ago.  It's a long story...

[[...]]

Come with me Roxie, my name is Rita, said the cop. Is it alright if I call you Roxie? That's ok, Roxanne replied, in a quiet, quivering voice. Are you hungry? Rita asked, as they walked toward the 'We Never Close Diner'. Making sure that Dennis, the son of her foster parents , was nowhere to be seen, Roxanne walked into the diner with Rita. "Get that cat out of here"!, came a shrill voice from behind the crowded counter. "Put a sock in it, Flo" and give us two of your noon specials, Rita hollered, as she and Roxanne sat down.

[[tr...]]

Flo grumbles under breath as she looks through the ledger,  "Room 13 is all I got right now...take it or leave it". Rita smiles at the cantankerous old woman, "You got a heart of gold Flo." "Yeah...yeah. I'm the frickin Red Cross. Just get that thing and her pet outta my face already," she says passing the ledger over to the young officer. Rita signs the logbook, while Flo throws them the keys to the room. "Go up the stairs...get off the 2rd floor...go straight and then hang a left," instructs Flo. Rita grabs Roxanne by the hand; they hastily make their way down the musty old foyer. The climb up the thin staircase is another challenge unto itself, as patrons squeeze through...trying to manoeuvre past the pair, while offensive smells cause Roxie to gag. 

 

 

[[Ka...]]

I just have to say....I love this.  P.J...thanks for starting this..you are such a gem..Travuz..you are amazing!

 

Kat

[[Ka...]]

Roxie followed Rita to the room, almost tripping over the garbage strewed across the upper hallway."Well, good thing I'm not superstitious", Roxie gasped as they unlocked the door  and surveyed the room. There was a tiny, hastily made-up bed, with a skimpy nightstand holding a miniature table light and a discoloured shade. A thread-bare rug was  thrown across the worn wooden floor.  A small bathroom  held the bare necessities; a chipped sink, a toilet with mineral stains, and a thin plastic curtain hiding a badly stained bath-tub.

 

"Thank you Rita...you are so very kind to help me out." Rita grabbed a chair from the hall, and montioned Roxie to sit on the bed.  "Now, tell me...I don't have much time left tonight.  New Orleans is a big city.  Why did I find you here?"

 

[[...]]

"I had to get away from Dennis". "Who's Dennis?....Is he your boyfriend"? "Are you kiddin' me, a scumbag like that. He's my foster parents 40 year old creepy son who I saw murder our neighbor's wife." Excuse me, Roxie...Rita stepped out into the hallway ........ "Flo, what's that God awful smell"?... "It's that damn Norwegian and his precious sardines and limberger cheese. Ole, get that rotten crap you call food out of here or I'll come up and slap you silly. No wonder you can't get a girlfriend, who the hell wants to go out with a stinkin' sardine"... yelled Flo, in the most unlady like, gravely voice she could muster.

 

"Here's a Coke, Roxie, and here's some of Ole's sardines for Crazy cat, "thanks Ole, I didn't mean to get you in trouble with Flo. But you know she loves you, she just likes to play the 'hard ass' role". Tell me more Roxie.......

[[ar...]]

The Norwegian suddenly appeared in the doorday. Hey "Why all the noise" he said " What's up?"" Do you fancy some cheese?" Roxy stared at the Norwegian, who was unshaven but had long Blondie rasta dreadlocks and like a lot of Scandinavians was of an attractive demeanour, about 40 with intense blue eyes. He was staying in the rundown place as he was a journalist, who had been out of work, but had managed to secure a freelance job from a Norwegian media magazine and was writing two stories on the history of jazz and Cajun culture and cuisine.

" Well, don't mind if I do have a piece of cheese", gasped Roxy, for it had been a very long bus journey and the fare at the roadside diners, had looked very unappetising indeed. "Thanks", she said. as she stuffed the cheese in her mouth

" My names Lars Larssen, what brings you to New Orleans?" I'm a big fan of jazz myself and have a collection of 300 jazz 78's, that I bought mosly from flea markets.."

[[tr...]]

Roxie ponders what to say. With all life's problems, she has learned the hard way...that descretion is the better part of valor. By now she is seated on the ragtag... squalid bed. What to do...what to do. She decides to take a chance and trust. "You say you're a journalist", Roxie inquires. "Well", Lars replies "I say a lot of things...but yes, I am a humble wordsmith." "You also talk to much", she smirks...her hands clenching the sheets. "I do that too" he smiles "my mother often said that I should mind my mouth." "I need a "wordsmith", she stares steadily at the tall blue eyed man. "Something happened a long time ago" Roxie's voice is cracking by now, "it's affected me all my life. I think things might have happened there, way before I was brought over." The Norwegian leans his lanky frame against the door, legs intertwined. He reaches into a pocket, on his Utility Blazer, pulls out a piece of aromatic Gammelost cheese and begins to chew on it slowly, as he listens intently. His interest is piqued, emotions steady...eyes watching fixedly. "I was in foster care...I ran away. I couldn't stay there because people disappeared", Roxie becomes silent. "What things? What do you mean by that...they disappeared", asks Rita. Lars quietly walks into the room after Rita, looks through and then closes the door behind him. Flo is still grumbling at a patron, as she meanders down the half lit hallway. "What do you mean?" he repeats Rita's words. "There's a story that the older kids tell...y'know the ones who don't get adopted or placed. It's been passed on down", Roxie takes a breath...trying to retain her composure. "There's a room in that place...there are many victims", Roxie is shaking. Rita moves to sit beside her. "Go on honey...what about them? Victims...in what way?" Rita places her arm around Roxie, to comfort and steady her. "He's mad y'know...INSANE and crazy", Roxie says, as she stares at both Rita and then the Norwegian.     

[[ho...]]

You know... there was a book written by some group of people years ago I think. Ill have to check on it. This is great!

Honeym

[[Ka...]]

"The first night I was there, he knocks on my bedroom door and asks  if I need anything. I said no...he just creeped me out. He never molested me or anything like that, but I know that a few kids that were there when I came..they just disappeared.  At first I was happy for them 'cause I thought they were going to a good home, y'know?" 

[[...]]

" Roxie, Lars, and me are going to be gone for a week or two, Rita informed Flo. We are going to Roxie's home town of Rivers End, it's about 125 miles north of here". "If anybody comes snooping around , you don't know a thing, play the dumb part, you know how. If a weird looking man shows up asking about Roxie, be careful. It could be Dennis.  "He's 40, walks with a slight limp, and he has a scar on his left cheek and evil eyes that would scare hell out of the devil. Is that right, Roxie"? "Yes, thats right", she answered , her eyes, darting between a confused  looking Flo, and Rita, who always maintained an air of confidence about her. "Rita, If he shows up, ya want I should call yer cell phone", suggested Flo. "Absolutely, but remember, don't tell anyone on the Police force, where I am. I took my two week vacation, told them I was going up to Minnesota to see relatives." By the way... Rita turned to face Lars, and with an appreciative tone in her voice, said to him. "I appreciate so much, your offer to come with Roxie and me. we may need a journalist to document our investigation". Lars, smiled, glanced quickly at Roxie and Flo, opend the door and went to his room.

 

"One more thing....Rita inquired,  "Flo, can you look after Crazy cat while we're gone"? " Take that pumpkin colored, flea bag with youse guys, I ain't no damn cat sitter"! " Please, implored Roxie, do it for me". " Alright, yer lucky you caught me in a good mood today......Roxie ran up to Flo and gave her a big, warm hug, and  kissed her on her wrinkled cheek. Hiding her emotions the best she could, not wanting to show any signs of softness, Flo secretly brushed away a tear from her street- smart blue eyes, and in her best gravely voice, yelled.....

"Go on, git outta here! Come on Crazy cat, I gotta

can of sardines with yer name on it waitin' for you downstairs".......Rita went into the hallway, her voice filled with excitement and anticipation, called out to Lars. "We're ready to leave, don't forget your camera and your recorder, you have to document everything, who knows, you may become famous"........  

 

 

[[tr...]]

The drive to Rivers End is a quiet ride. Rita sits at the drivers seat of the rented car. Roxie is beside her...looking at the passing trees; saying a small prayer over and over. The Norwegian sits in the back...adjusting his equipment bag; trying a little too hard to look busy. Lars finally breaks the silence, "We should stop to eat somewhere". Rita looks into the rearview mirror, "Yes that's probably a good idea. We're also going to need a plan...I don't think it will be prudent, to run into this blindly". Roxie quietly speaks, "Yes a plan is a good thing. He's smart and he's devious. That's why he's never been caught".  Lars can sense the fear in the child's voice, "Everything will be OK Roxie. You have us now...we'll bring him down and stop him from hurting anyone esle". "Roxie...I know you're afraid...but he's only a man" Rita says calmly. "No he's something bad. I saw what he can do. I know what he's capable of...and I am one of the lucky one's. I got away...so what the hell am I doing going back. This is a bad idea guys"!

[[ar...]]

'Let's stop here" suggests Roxie. The light was fading as the old car pulled into the road side diner.

Lars opened the door for Roxie to get out." Don't worry Roxie I hold a second degree Dan black belt in kempo karate, and with plenty of time on my hands, I was able to practice every day." Roxie looked relieved. All three headed for the diner to talk things over. The Red River, a tributary of the Mississippi flowed lazily past the diner. Lars ordered a cheeseburger with French fries. He fancied some Gumbo or jambalaya, but settled for the fast food option. Now Roxy" tell me more about Dennis with his limp, he does appear to not sound as invincible as you say"

 

[[Gr...]]

"Dennis said he was in the marines during the Persian Gulf War and that he had been injured while fighting in 'Operation Storm,' but his mother would say under her breath so he couldn't hear her, that he said he fought in 'Operation Storm' because it was the only battle he'd heard of during that time, and that he'd really been in jail and injured in a knife fight where he was stabbed in the left thigh," Roxie told Rita and Lars.

 

"I never knew what to believe from either him or his mom. But, I knew he was bad, and a liar, and I knew I had to get away from him."

[[Ka...]]

As Roxie spoke, Lars studied closely Roxies' face..her magnificent  green eyes that would open wide and narrow with a feline fervor when she became passionate about what she spoke...which happened frequently.  Her hair was long, dark brown with reddish glints, and she would often swing it back when she became excited. She was barely 17, and had an air of maturity he found quite rare in a girl her age.  He viewed her dispassionately, merely with a writers' sense of keen observation.

 

"I am from Belle Chasse..my parents were killed in a car accident, and I had no close relatives..no-one else who would take me in, so  the people who are in child welfare got me into a foster home here.  The mom and dad of the family were ok.  Dennis was a horrible person.  I used to go to Belle Chasse academy  and my dad was in the Naval reserve there.  Dennis used to say that Belle Chasse  stand for "beautiful hunting", and that he was  shot by a hunter.  I don't know what to believe, because some days he wouldn't even limp at all."

 

"But, don't the military people take care of their families?"  Lars asked..

[Guest [Si...]]

Lars fell over with a heart attack. Roxie gave him a kiss on the forehead goodbye and walked away.

 

[[ar...]]

Rita called the paramedics on her mobile phone, & started the CPR which was part of her training as a police officer. What a dramatic day and with Lars being so fit.

 

Roxie & Rita followed the ambulance to the hospital.The worry and speculation about Dennis was forgotten for the moment .Roxie hated anything medical, and hospitals made her anxious.

 

A few hours later Lars was sitting up in bed, a scan had shown there no damage to the heart muscle. The doctors wondered if it had been a myo cardial infarction at all, perhaps an allergic reaction to the preservatives in the cheese. Lars was to be discharged in the morning, after staying over for observation and temporary beds were found for Roxie and Rita for the night.

The next morning Lars was relieved that it had all been a false alarm, and the three continued on the journey to Rivers End.

 

Remembering the previous conversation  before the hospital episode, Roxie said that normally the military people did take care of their families, but their had been a mix up as her fathers Naval discharge papers had been lost in a bureaucratic mix up and so welfare had placed her in foster care.

 

 

 

[[Ka...]]

Roxie was so relieved to know that Lars was going to be fine. "Hey Lars...y'think that your Swedish cheese didn't agree with ya?"  She didn't let on just how relieved she felt.  So many people had failed her in  the past. She was developing quite a fondness for Lars. She could feel that he was becoming very protective of her.  Rita and Lars were becoming her fast friends, and she felt she could thoroughly trust them now.

[[...]]

" I did some checking with the DOD, Dennis was never in the service. I also found out, by talking to some people around town that the limp came about because of a dog bite", explained , Rita. " As one old timer said to me, "Dennis was a strange one, he was "dancing with the devil" since he learned how to walk, torturing animals gave him a great, sadistic pleasure"......"what do you have in the bag", Roxie, asked Lars, not in a nosey way, but in a 'trying to make conversation' tone of voice. " When you guys were getting settled into the motel room, I went to a flea market down the road, not too far from here, guess what I found? Like a little kid at Christmas time, Lars hurridly tore open the bag and excitedly waved his arms in the air, a record in each hand. "Look", he exclaimed, "Wynton Marsalis and Oscar Peterson, my favorite jazz performers! Wynton was born in New Orleans". "Roxie, commented, Rita."Tomorrow we will visit Mr. and Mrs. Kershaw, your foster parents".

 

 

Travuz.......We need you.

[Guest [Si...]]

How did Lars come back to life?

 

I killed him.

[[Ka...]]

 

 

Travuz.......We need you.

 

 

Exactly what I've been thinking pj.  Hey Travus!  We miss you.