The radio called for a snow storm on the Friday before Halloween. The narrow winding 18th street of Adam?s Morgan was deserted. No cars were parked hap hazard on either side of the littered road. It looked accessible yet, forlorn as the woman in high heels, short leather skirt and bright red lipstick walking the same street for the 5th time that evening. Like her, Adams Morgan didn?t have its usual share of rowdy, Friday evening clients.
The first flake of snow spiraled down in slow motion and on to her heavily mascara-d eyelashes. She brushed it off impatiently and peered at the sky. The sky which had darkened from a cloudy grey to a charcoal black began releasing flecks of white?at first a reluctant few white crumbs which rapidly changed into a relentless drift. The sudden swirl of snow turned her peroxide blonde hair into platinum silver. She cursed loudly as she tried to salvage her hair spray patting the limp tendrils into place. Small damp patches appeared on her faux leather skirt as the snow melted on her warm spots. Her fishnet stockings had frozen stiff cutting into her calves and thighs while her worn out stilettos skidded dangerously on the slick uneven street. She tottered past the life less coffee shop and stood under the canopy of a bead shop. The store sign boasted of African beads, silver jewelry, hand crafted dolls and batik tee shirts. She was not dressed for the weather. She hadn?t planned on spending the night walking the street. After all it was the Friday before Halloween

A few cars crawled past the bead shop ignoring her attempts at catching their attention. The last driver rolled down his window and gestured obscenely at her. Hopeful, she stepped out from under the canopy. But the car sped by.

............Continued

Snow fell in a blur. She pulled her thin nylon jacket against the tops of her half exposed bosom and squinted at a hazy figure slowly emerging from the drift. The huddled form shuffled painstakingly up the broken street towards her. He favored one side as he limped. His boots were mauled by the weather and one of his heels had broken of. Which made it all the harder for her to figure out why he limped. His swarthy, weathered skin matched the color of his ill fitting coat which swung in tatters at his ankles. But his black fedora was new. Despite the snow covered brim, she could see it was new. He wore it at an angle so it shaded his eyes.
As he passed her, he brushed into her. At which she muttered ?Watch it Bud!? He jerked into a halt and with one sweep of his right hand, tipped his hat at the sound of her voice. One glassy eye gave her a vacant look while the other scrutinized her face. ?Too damn cold to be out here missy!? he nodded at her attire. ?This ain?t no place for you, either!? she retorted. Both watched the street for some form of sustenance?she for a client, he for a quarter. A sudden gust of wind swept a cloud of snow into their huddled frames. The man suddenly broke out into a dry hacking cough which after a while sounded like the barks of a drowning seal. She stared at him, willing him to stop the jarring noise. He couldn?t. ?Here?s a dollar and a quarter, go get yourself a hot cup of coffee!? she coaxed him impatiently. He held out his fedora in to which she dropped the money willing him to go away.
Just then, a yellow topped cab screeched into a halt right in front of the bead shop. A pair of fine, suede boots trimmed with lynx fur emerged out of the cab. The boots supported muscular calves which bulked into fleshy thighs held together by sheer nylons.

Her thighs barely squeezed into a fashionable, black, velvet skirt. The lady wore a matching lynx jacket and a fur trimmed hat. She wore suede gloves.
She unsnapped her flat purse as she dipped her gloved fingers to pull out a twenty dollar bill with her ring finger and thumb while she held her smoking cigarette with her index and middle fingers. She handed the driver the money and scanned the street until she espied what she was looking for?the I-Matti, a ritzy Italian restaurant a few doors away from the bead shop. She was dressed chic for a date that Friday.
The lady in suede stepped on to the side walk where the hobo and the street walker huddled against the wall. She smirked at the disheveled appearance of the woman and curled her lips back in repugnance as she would at a drowned rat. As she passed the homeless man, she stepped closer to his extended hat and took a deep puff of her cigarette. She elegantly stretched a gloved hand, tapped the ashes into the new fedora and strutted away without a backward glance.
****************************************************
I watched with bile rising in my mouth, the anticipation of a wonderful evening with a lovely lady dissipated as does a fog in the face of a scorching sun. I hailed a cab and rode back to my lonely apartment, leaving my date stranded on the Friday before Halloween.

*****The End****

Nice story SITARA,
I love going to crowded adams morgan.Esp. at night on the weekends for late night 18th street pizzaz.Sadly never been there when I am sober...
My favorite hang out at adams morgan....
Madam's organ:)

:)....हाजिर!!!

Sitara, a wonderful end. Some gals deserve being stood up more than others . ...hee hee.

What r ya doing for Halloween?

gone...

Seems like an alternate ending of one of Mansfield's creation.....splendid as usual Sitara!!!

Nice one di..:)

good story to read one fine saturday morninng!!

Nice one - I am curious what happened after she reached the apartment - was there a voicemail or a text message waiting for her by any chance? he he

Btw, its a miserable day here in Boston. Now I am even less inclined to go out ... sigh.

bichari and bichara re kya ;oP hehe...well ke garney some are just not meant for each other hoina?:o( hehe

anyways Sitara jyu..u know me..(dun u?say u do pls :o(...;oP hehe) pretty not good in u know errr...complimenting ;oP eheh...so Namaskar..tapai ko lekyah padha..ke ke thots and feelns aucha :oD...(hope me nepali made sense hehe..wat is "lekyah?" jpt type gaar deyko :oS hehe)...

dyam us :o| ..rawan had how many faces?7?or 10?(i forgot me ramayan :oS..lost me mind!!arghhh!!same old reason and im not gettn tired of it?hehe)..but seriously if he had that much how many do we have ?:o| rawan would be jealous i think ..well def of me..tho of cos maybe he be more pleased seeing me faces :o| cos yap its not the quanity its the quality hoina?:o| ;oP hehe...sheesh im talkn about quanity here!!rawan!!dun be jealous hai!!im sure if u existed in our time..u have lots more faces re kya ;oP hehe...

and dyam alik typing mood ma..so captain dun mind me arsing here ;oP...but in the end..im sure..well u know..life goes on ;o)...im sure both of them ended better ;o) hehe..better or worse..life has to go on hoina?so lets think positive!!!!weather is gloomy enuf here too :oS hehe..and better start being productive :o| enuf of whinin about the weather hehe..

so good day :oD and Happy tihar :oD(oops got tihar thread let me do smthing right for once ;oP hehe)

*gone to do it right re kya ;oP hehe*

Hello Izen; Thanks for reading. I used to frequent Adam's Morgan esp. during my undergrad days. The I-Matti is where I did an ethnographic study for a semester. People watching was what I called it! I hope you had a fun Halloween.

Scarlett, couldn't agree with you more. For Halloween, went to a friend's party dressed in black with markings of a cat. People stared because the party did not happen on the actual day.

Nirman and Matrix, thanks for dropping by.

Galt,thank you for your kind words. Just another experimental writing. Waiting for your anecdotes.

Nepali Poonte; what a pleasant surprise! I'm glad it wasn't a waste of time, entirely! :)

Captain Haddock, Would she find a message on her voicemail? I doubt it. I believe,what he experienced was too internal to be verbalized.

Dannanymous; love to see you "arsing" around regardless of the length of your posts. I see, you've been rendered speechless here (Only 12 lines here!) ;)

A Wonderful and Blessed Tihar to All!

SITARA,
I have been rather late with this call but better late ever always than never. Was busy 'arsing' (borrowing Dannanymous's phrase) around on the golf courses up north. And the weather let me down massively. :( They've a saying and it goes something like this: UK ko mausam ra keti ko bharosa hundaina! :) Now not sure about 'keti' but the ukhan couldn't hold any truer - on its 'mausam' count at least! I have long given up counting on the BBC weather forecast! The last two days were horrendous, absolute bugger all (excuse my French!) - passed without any attempts at a decent shot on my part! The combination of both wind and rain proved a little too distracting, mind you, leaving me with one easy choice: dash back to the bar for those endless rounds of mochas/cuppas sipping over bites of short bread and croissants! What else! Stop press: the word 'keti' has an express company of a noun (viz UK) which precedes it hai - I thought I said this before those with hyper-gender sensitive temperament felt a crushing stab and started hurling equally crushing verbal fireballs my way before long! So no offence but hey, I said - UK ko keti, not Amrikaa ko or Nepal ko! :)

Good to be back to Sajha - I must admit that I did miss Kurakani really sorely - was 'always on my mind'! Okay enough about pleasantries. Now on to the story. An edifying read, as always. I found the variation of the narrative structures at the end of the story rather striking, and I think, this is what adds much flavour to the unfolding plot and its delivery achieved through an intimate choreography of language and the imagery it engenders. Your realist approach to the style of delivering the overall story line becomes more crystallized with the meticulous description of the surroundings; the setting has a more atmospheric feel to it. The good old Henry James (another Anglicised American) would have loved the story, I am sure. The story has all the hallmarks of the Dickensian tales with classless characters who, in spite of their identities being confined to the periphery of a given social landscape, often find expressions in their battle to face the scourge of society's worst ills - the poverty and the squalor - as well as in its contradictions, exemplified in this case by the rich sable jacket/suede gloves wearing socialite - the hapless 'anticipating' narrator's voluptuous Friday date. This is SITARA prose at its most eloquent. Lovely.

On a lighter note though, why did your narrator have to dash back to his 'lonely apartment'? Sad old sod! :) Or was his date so ugly that he felt uncomfortable being seen with her? The male ego and all! But ugly or not, I would have definitely gone into the restaurant with her and would have gorged all those mouth watering Italian delicacies on offer down the gullet with sips of cianti. If I were him! Then the 'pre-prandial' activities that would have followed back in my place would have made my apartment not so 'lonely' after all. How about that? :)

Okay, enough woffle. I better get back to checking a few hundreds of email that have piled onto my Inbox. Hope you had a lovely Tihar - my belated greetings if it is not so belated! Carpe diem.

As I put myself in his boots with broken heels, I limp and my mind clamors, "I want to live another day? like you do."

Sitara ji,
Very poetic!

Hellbound:)

Welcome back Sandhurst! Could it be possibly be that your arsing around may have exposed your rear end to the extreme elements rendering your shots and your focus haywire? Or could the tailwind have been too much to bear for the clubholder? But what would I know, just offering you an analysis on a subject I know nothing of. O Bligh me! Whatever wind blows you here brings good tidings for us Sajhaites.
"You can plan a pretty picnic but you can't predict the weather" similiarly "you can pick a pretty Prithee but you can't predict a wedding!" If you are wise, you'd either avoid or adjust to both!

Wow! Can one comment on the commentator?! Did you know there is a Pulitzer Prize set aside for excellent reviewers too!? :) You don't miss much do you? If only I could bring in Dickensian language into the writing, my short stories would turn into novels with perhaps, a shot at fame! :P But I dare not scrutinize the void between a wishful fantasy and dismal reality. The clash of the classes is evident in clubby, ritzy, social areas where people mingle for different reasons. Hence, this short vignette.

As for the other, now why would a charming young feller like yourself burden himself and consequently his evening with an arrogant socialite?! Baby, you want Chianti... go for it, SOLO! There's nothing like a man who holds his own on his own! :)



Why thank you Hellbound.

I wonder what soul could be housed in a body adorned in broken heels,broken eye, tattered coat and exploding lungs...certainly one not hellwardbound! :)

Could it possibly be* (mind the typos)

SITARA, good afternoon. Are you in Baltimore ho? The name does remind me the Tom Hanks film - Sleepless in Seatle.

It's been a horrendous Monday today - super-duper busy. I trust that yours has not been as busy as mine.

As for the other - yeah, I might as well go SOLO now that you insist! For you info, 'holding my own on my own' is what I do best, Miss! :) Now back to sipping my cianti - where is my glass gone?!! Tired already holding on my own as it were! :)

So good talking to you. Have a good day. Will answer you other post in due time.
Carpe diem

Just a quick thought that crossed my mind quickly quickly... eh. Is the prostitution business in the east coast seasonal? I can't imagine them wanderin' on their high heels and short skirt in the winter. They might freeze half naked. hehe...

Ekdum very wonderfully written and as detail as anyone could ever put it. eh.... My imagination workin' overtime on the descriptions.... "The boots supported muscular calves which bulked into fleshy thighs held together by sheer nylons"... ehe, kyaa seusi...!!! Uff those hi-class lowlife damsels with the heart of stone... ha... They can roleplay themselves in the halloween, ehe, and even end up winnin' third prize. ;)

Aru khoi ta?

Sitara, I am happy that I you put a new piece. Infact wondering are you a girl or a guy. Usually sitarta is springkle shiny dots to make a doll.
If you are a girl...........
lalu

Lalu Bhanja,
Good to see you drop your annoying refrain - Mama - from SITARA's name! Yeah, she is a Miss. Now I don't understand when you say 'sitarta is springkle shiny dots to make a doll'. Hajur??

:) Stay tuned. Carpe diem

Typo:
"she is a Miss" to read 'SITARA is a Miss'. :)