I’ve been a bit dizzy lately, unable to settle down and dig into a story. Eventually I just kept two docs open and switched back and forth as the mood took me – Oi! To be one of those uber organized writers who outline things! – but last week I started writing a story about a girl named Coffy. As sweet as her cinematic namesake was a badass, in this snippet we learn that everyone has their breaking point. You can take a stand without compromising who you are, and sometimes the next best thing is just around the corner…or in another dimension, blonde, big, and dressed in black leather. 🙂 As yet untitled and unedited, enjoy!
This did it. She was officially done. No more. She couldn’t take another – anything! What was she, a doormat?
Yes, her subconscious whispered. That’s exactly what you are.
“Not anymore,” she muttered, stuffing her things into her backpack.
The suitcase she’d arrived with had been borrowed long ago and never returned, along with half, heck, most of her clothes. She supposed it was just as well all she had was this backpack. It would have been tough to split on a bike otherwise.
Coffy looked around at the room where she’d spent the last 18 months of her life. She snorted. “See you later, jerks,” she whispered, peeking into the drawers and under the bed one last time to make sure she wasn’t leaving anything behind. The doormat, also known as Coffy Cartwright, has left the building. “I’m done letting everyone wipe their feet all over me.”
It was tough to take the high road when the people around you didn’t know what that was, and if they did, didn’t care. She’d been raised to take pride in her calm ability to not overreact, to behave decorously. Her mother, her lively, laughing mother had often praised young Coffy for being just like her daddy, “cool under pressure.
“You’re not like me, that’s for sure,” she’d sometimes laughed. “If I were a tea kettle, I’d be on perpetual boil! But that can be a tiresome way to live, baby girl. Better to take things in stride like you and your daddy. Half the time, anything you can get upset over isn’t worth the energy once you get to the bottom of it anyway.”
She took pride in the fact that she didn’t swear and did not act out in public because her mother had appreciated those qualities in her. Even now when anger was rapidly moving toward a belly-curdling rage so potent she had to close her eyes and breathe deep to keep from exploding, she managed to pull herself back from the edge.
Momma, momma, momma, she thought, reciting her beloved mother’s name like a mantra to ward off evil. Slowly she began to calm.
“Where are you going?” Monica sneered.
Coffy stopped and turned back to look at the girl who’d eaten the last of the birthday supper Mrs. Turner, the owner of their women’s hostel had made for her. A supper she’d barely gotten to taste once everyone’s greedy grubby grabbing hands had snatched everything up. No one cared that the birthday girl had worked all day and was hungry. It was first come, first take or steal, just like always.
“As far away from you as humanly possible,” she answered, and walked out. Continue reading “Snippet Tuesday: Sometimes the best thing you can do is fall off your bike… #paranormal #romance #interracial”