Nov 29

Short story (chapter two)

the chapters do not go in order, read the first one first then read whatever one you like, they all fit into one another but it is not nessceaery to read one, two, three...

Chapter 2 Aisha

I am not worthy. How could I be? I'm a runaway, 17 year old, black girl trying to out run poverty. My name is Aisha, I am trying to get into college, at the moment I am in a hotel in nowhere VT. I ran away from my home and parents in NYC. What good could possibly spring from my broken frame and chapped soul? The only good I make is with my mouth and hands, I write. People say I'm "really good" but nothing I do seems right to me... I've been at the hotel for a day now, and in the days before that I took a train, bus and taxi to get here. before that I had been scheming in my parent's two room apartment in the Bronx. We were poor. we couldn't scrape together 2 pennies to get me to college, since then I had won so many scholarships I had enough boats to cross the Atlantic and back. My parent's scolded me for writing, that it was a "softie", and it would end up nowhere. I guess they were right. tonight I will write so much my hand will fall off. I sit in the cafe, drinking a cup of dark brew coffee, no cream or sugar. Everyone else in the room is white some stare at me, I don't think they'd seen many black people before, I'd heard rumors that Vermont was one of the least ethic states in the US. Oh well, at least I don't care what people think of me. I go back to my room dreading the clock ticking the time away until I have to send the application in. I give myself an excuse to go to the bathroom. on the way back I see a peculiar vent in the hall. I don't know why I was so attracted to it but there I was crawling on my hands and knees like a baby, peering into the vent. The grate was beautiful, golden brown and warm. I hear something down the shaft, I know eavesdropping was rude but I leaned in closer anyway, I heard a crying baby and the blare of a TV. not very interesting... oh well, I'm about to get up when a shift in the light catches my eyes from down the duct, there's a moment of silence and the grate pops out of it's socket and slams into my face. I fall backwards, the damn grate hit me so hard I reach up to make sure my face still exists. all I've got now is a bloody nose, dammit, dammit, dammit, Mami's going to be livid when she finds- it takes me a moment to realize that Mami's not going to find me. she's miles away. I walk back to my room, my nose drips all the way. I sit down at the desk provided in the room, get a piece of paper and write. I sit there for hours, well into the night. when I finally get something that sounds OK. I'm writing furiously, trying to keep up with the tain of inspiration, hut it's slowly, inch by inch leaving me in the dust. One drop of blood from my nose falls and lands on the paper I was writing on. I wonder as I stand up, crumple the paper, chuck it across the room and fall sobbing onto the bed, if any of it's worth it. I cry harder then the gush of blood from my nose cause slamming my face into the pillow probably didn't help the healing possess. I fall asleep to the process of my tears hitting the pillow and curiously, the sound of my hotel door being opened but nobody being there. How strange, maybe it's a ghost. I think as my ships sink into an ocean of sleep. When I awake on the bright shores of morning, I sit up into the undainty shape of sunshine. Dried blood is everywhere in my face and the sheets. As I rise from slumber I am vaguely aware of the paper I had clocked across the room... and how it was not there anymore. What? I am almost positive it was there... right there. but it wasn't anywhere in the room either. weird. maybe I had imagined it? Today I was packing my bags and leaving for home. I wasn't' going to college, I wasn't good enough, not worthy enough. I went to the cafe, with my bags and decided to order one last cup of coffee. There is an old woman sitting a few tables away from me, I am no longer the only black person at the hotel, there is a nurse sitting with her, holding her hand? no, signing into her hand, her must be deaf.. and blind? She seems to be looking straight at me. A hotel manager comes over and informs me I have mail. who would send me mail? He hands me a letter, I open it... No Way. it was an answer to my college application. but I hadn't sent it... and how could they respond so fast? This is impossible, I pinch myself, it's real. I was accepted. who had sent my application? I surely hadn't. I guess something's are just miracles. the doors to the hotel burst open, it's another miracle, my parents. I run to them and am enveloped in a hug I have missed for days. "how did you know I was here?" I whisper through joyful tears, Mami looks at me with a strange look twisting her face. "You... texted us where you were... right?" what the- "no..." another miracle. i knew that some kindred spirit had been watching over me. some sort of angel. I know that I am worthy, and I am home.