Monday, April 27, 2009

Fiction Assn Part 3

In this assignment we had portray a character using narrative, dialogue and action methods. So, here's a little more about Li.


She had four projects looming, three with deadlines in the next two weeks. And she was out of steam. Other graphic designers took walks to overcome blocs. The only thing that ever worked for Li was a tangible escape.

Her favorite solitary rendezvous was Soho, but the NYC district was becoming crowded with acquaintances. One acquaintance, in particular, was absolutely necessary to avoid.

Since she lived her life by the religion of signs, she interpreted the Wall Street Journal article on the Asian art exhibit as a personal calling and found herself flying to San Francisco.
Silversun Pickups played on her Ipod as she easily avoided conversation with other passengers. The refrain reverberated. A chord changed, and there he was. His image consumed her, making her heart stir and stomach flip. 
“No more,” she thought, defying her desire to wallow in her misery. She switched to her Classical playlist. But as the first few notes of Debussy’s Reverie  began, she wondered if all music was a self-defeating exercise.
She rested her head back and ran her fingers through her hair, still not used to the shorter length. For years, he urged her to try a new cut. She resisted, calling upon her mother’s wish to keep it long. But the very day she pledged never to see him again, she entered a salon and requested her locks to be shortened with layers. Never had she received so many compliments. Now, everyone focused on the perfect features of her face.


She had been staring for twenty minutes at an image of a goddess, the Green Tara, when the hushed chatter in the museum drowned out a Chakra melody playing in her head.
She turned to study the next piece of art, only to find him staring at her with that tenacious smile. She lost her breath, only for a moment, before posturing herself. She was thankful for defying her Vietnamese height genes, allowing her to look him squarely in the eye.
“Why are you here?” she asked, hoping to convey her contempt. 
“Li!  What do you think I’m doing here? The minute I read about this exhibit in the Wall Street Journal, I took the first flight out of New York.”
Her purse fell off her bare shoulder, diminishing her taut  stance. 
“My muse looks delicious as ever,” he continued in his alluring English accent. “Love the hair. Very bon ton. Your eyes. They seem darker.”
She folded her arms. “I’m not your muse. Not anymore.” She looked away, unable to face him when she added, “You’re despicable.”
She reminded him of a little girl, pouting with her lower lip extended. But she was not a little girl.

“You don’t mean that,” he walked to her, ensuring to invade her personal space, then gently kissed her smooth shoulder. He smiled when she shivered.

“Please, just go away,” she begged in defeat.

“You don’t mean that either, Love.”

She tried not to become hypnotized by his scent.


Li stepped out of the art museum, hoping he would not be outside waiting for her.  When she didn’t see him, only slight disappointment fell upon her. Instead of catching a taxi, she decided to walk back to the hotel.

Her journey to Market Street began with eyes pointed down, her gait slow and aimless. Desperately needing to clear her clouded mind, she whispered the Green Tara’s mantra. By the time she reached the commotion on Market Street, she was lucid.

“I walked away from him.” She stopped to absorb the energies surrounding her. Suddenly, with focused determination, she pushed through the crowded street and trotted nearly a mile to her hotel. 

She stormed into her room, kicking her shoes in the air and tossing her purse on the bed. The view from her window briefly captured her attention. 

“I walked away from him.”  She smiled.

Then she powered up her Mac, ready to tackle the projects that no longer puzzled her. Within an hour, she finished two particularly challenging designs.

Her stomach growled. When was the last time she ate? On her way out the door to catch a bite, her Blackberry vibrated. She didn’t care who it was, even if it was him. But it wasn’t a call. Anne Jenkins, her new client, sent her an email with information that might help Li with a logo design. For some reason, the message made her laugh.

On a whim, Li decided to call her new client back.

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