Carolyn stepped out into the street and headed for the bus. She was the brightest thing in the neighbourhood in her neat orange dress, white belt and shoes. Suburban blue-grey; standard issue for conformity, was the norm. She was meeting Dave at seven — hoped he wouldn’t be late. She pulled her arms tight around her stomach. It wasn’t chilly.
The man ahead in the queue wore grimy jeans; smelt of body odour. He offered her a roll-up. She shook her head. He lit one himself, dragged on it, coughed phlegm, spat, picked loose tobacco off his tongue and eyed her. The fat woman behind, offered a dirty look. The bus drew up. The cigarette was discarded still burning into the gutter.
The bus smelt of stale wet coats of earlier shoppers. The seats were stained with gum and chocolate. Now was between times. Nearly empty, it rattled towards the city centre. Catching her reflection as they went through the underpass, Carolyn realized she’d forgotten to brush her hair. She messed it up a bit more and removed a smudge of lipstick from the corner of her mouth. She got off the bus near the mall. The man in jeans got off too. He headed for the Big Screen Bar and she made her way to Le Club.
“Usual?” said the barman.
Perched on a high stool, Carolyn adjusted her skirt downwards to cover her thighs. She only had to cross the street to the usual place. She put money on the bar, sank back the first shot quickly and chased it with a second.
“Nah,” said the barman, pushing the money back towards her. “Why don’t you get a bite?”
“Cheers, Jinx.” Carolyn smiled her perfect smile, slipped from the bar stool and crossed the road to the corner of Pink Street.
There was almost half a pizza right at the top of the bin. She ducked into a doorway with it not to be seen, shivered and took a mouthful.
Business might be slow tonight. She suspected it was going to rain. In the city dusk her dress would blend perfectly with the orange reflections of streetlamps in the gutter.
Oonah V Joslin lives in Northumberland, England. Winner of Micro Horror Prizes 2007 and 2008. Most read in EDF, Jan 2008. Guest judge in the Shine Journal 2008 Poetry Competition. Bewildering Stories Quarterly 4 2007 and 1 and 2 in 2008. She has had work published in Bewildering Stories, Twisted Tongue, Static Movement, 13 Human Souls, Back Hand Stories and The Pygmygiant, Lit Bits, The Linnet’s Wings, The Ranfurly Review and Boston Literary Magazine. The list is growing every month which pleases her immensely! Oonah is also Managing Editor of Every Day Poets. You can link to work, follow up-dates and contact Oonah at http://www.writewords.org.uk/oonah/ or http://www.oonahs.blogspot.com. She thanks all of you who take the time to read and comment.
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27 Responses to “BLENDING IN • by Oonah V Joslin”
Comments
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June 3rd, 2009 at 12:47 am
Excellent Oonah.
You had me at the end. A good surprise.
June 3rd, 2009 at 3:41 am
Really nice details- the twist was excellent, didn’t see it coming!
June 3rd, 2009 at 3:49 am
Great story, Oonhah. I, too, was caught by surprise by your ending.
June 3rd, 2009 at 4:59 am
“Now was between times.”
Really liked that line. Perfect description of those lost moments in transition between where you’ve been and where you are going.
Enjoyed.
–John
June 3rd, 2009 at 5:40 am
Lovely descriptive language, but I don’t get the point of the story. What was she doing there, and why? **What** business might be slow? I have no idea what was going on.
June 3rd, 2009 at 7:07 am
Jim Hartley – I’ve heard that in Victoriumberland such a “business” is called “Ladies of the Night.” The “orange dress” would be not bright, but inconspicuous and blend in under the northern lights. The white shoes would be seen more easily in the dark doorway, and the men, usually smelly in the frigid bathless far north, and semi-rejected by their wives, would, in searching for visible shoes, be nearly invisible in spite of the orange glow of their cigarettes.
My nation (U.S.)encourages baths as more rewarding.
June 3rd, 2009 at 7:34 am
Very good story. I had no clue that the character was a prostitute untill the very end. This story does a very good job at showing that despite what people may do for a living, they can look [and *be*]just like everyone else.
June 3rd, 2009 at 7:48 am
Jen – Very few people go out at night and stand in doorways.
June 3rd, 2009 at 8:41 am
This struck me as quite sad, and full of desparation. It was quite good.
June 3rd, 2009 at 9:20 am
Really a lot packed into such a tiny story. Good job, Oonah. Nice twist at the end.
June 3rd, 2009 at 9:22 am
I was confused too… I got the prostitute angle, but something didn’t feel right. I think the opening where she mentions meeting Dave at 7 is too deliberate an attempt to “hide” the fact she’s a hooker until the end.
June 3rd, 2009 at 9:26 am
Roberta- That’s how I figured out she was a prostitute.
June 3rd, 2009 at 11:08 am
What a sad story. You evoked the desparation of the main character well.
June 3rd, 2009 at 12:08 pm
While I like the images evoked and the surprise for the reader, I wish there was more plot. It feels like a snapshot, but many of the pieces lately have that feel.
June 3rd, 2009 at 12:34 pm
Nice work, Oonah!
June 3rd, 2009 at 12:50 pm
I didn’t get it at first either. She was meeting somebody at 7? Then she was eating out of a trash can? Business must not be that good.
June 3rd, 2009 at 1:30 pm
For a twist to work, I think, we should at least be given some clues beforehand. Ideally it should be telegraphed from the very beginning.
Currently, it could just as easily have ended like this
“Cheers, Jinx.” Carolyn smiled her perfect smile, slipped from the bar stool and walked to the gents. Ignoring the looks of the bloke at the next urinal, she pulled out her hated manhood and pissed against the porcelain.
Other than the sudden twist, I wasn’t convinced by her having a couple of shots before work, or scrounging pizza from a bin.
And why is she meeting Dave in the street?
Questions, questions…
June 3rd, 2009 at 5:49 pm
Outstanding imagery, as usual, Oonah!
June 3rd, 2009 at 9:38 pm
Hey Oonah!
Add a murderer and this becomes a fantastic prologue to a noir novel! Send in a PI and you’ve got yourself a first chapter. Gotta build that suspense!
Jordan
June 4th, 2009 at 2:27 am
I enjoyed this beautifully written slice of life story. Agree with Jordan.
June 4th, 2009 at 3:43 am
I think that this is a very well-written and evocative piece on this subject (at least, women who are forced into prostitution by desparation, rather than because they want to). You captured Carolyn’s mood really well. I thought the twist was flagged perfectly well, by indicating that she didn’t fit in, etc, especially the dirty look that the woman waiting for the bus gave her.
My only slight quibble is the concept of her meeting a client at a pre-arranged time. In general, the kind of prostitute who wanders on street corners doesn’t have that sort of pre-arrangement – if they did, they’d go to a hotel etc.
Aside from that though, really good.
June 4th, 2009 at 7:52 am
Beautifully written. Strong visual images and uses color image in an unusual way.
One question regarding picturing an image in the story: the comment about her hair; why did she mess it up more? Was it long and fastened or short hair?
Is “meeting Dave” an underworld phrase for waiting for an unknown “client”?
Tracie W. – After reading your comment that this fine piece reads as a snapshot: I found I agree with your description of this colorful night photo in motion, but it doesn’t detract from its excellence in word.
June 4th, 2009 at 8:07 am
Thank you all for reading.
Film noir was how I saw it really – it has a palate of colours and the point of it is that her life is coloured to match night-life in the gutter.
Dave is not a client – she’s shivering when it’s not cold, drinking shots until he gets there, the barman wants her to eat something instead of spending the money on drink and drugs. But she hopes her dealer/pimp won’t be late. He keeps her supplied. I thought that was clear…It clearly wasn’t.
June 4th, 2009 at 7:54 pm
Oonah,
I caught that she was more interested in booze than food, but Dave’s identity escaped me. It didn’t really matter for what it was.
I liked the description and the use of rapid color. Not by definition my thing, but that’s what’s nice about EDF — quick bites of stuff you might not order full plates of.
June 5th, 2009 at 2:28 am
Great story Oonah – very noir.
June 7th, 2009 at 1:49 am
Well you certainly divided opinion with this one, Surface, and that for me is always the sign of a good story.
I enjoyed it. Keep ‘em coming.
Best
Sean
June 7th, 2009 at 3:28 am
Hi Oonah,
colourful but despairing. Well written.
Cheers
Mark