Category Archives: My writing life

Where Do I Begin.

WindSong The First Chapter:
Windsong
By Shane Patrick LaGrange
The dream is a dark disturbing nightmare. Her, her boyfriend, Robert, and another woman: a blond female wearing dark sunglasses. Gangster black. Not a stranger though, she sensed a feeling of importance with the woman. A kinship. The hair and glasses are all she can see.
She is talking, but Janette cannot hear what she is saying. Robert is sniggering; yet she can hear him.
She motions for Janette to follow, but Robert grabs her wrist, twisting the arm. Janette screams and the scenario changes.
A hospital gallery. Janette dressed in a green patient’s smock. They are in a room; it was not any kind of hospital she knew about. Robert gave a leering wolf whistle holding up a strait jacket. Feeling a sudden draft, Janette looked down at herself. A Polyester patients smock. She frowned at Robert, as her shapely bare ass shows prominently as she leaned over the body of a woman.
The prone female was young, with long blonde hair. Statuesque in appearance. The mystery female was lying prone over a metal autopsy table. Janette was feverishly trying to wake her up but could not.
Robert was in the background, with another smirk on his face, leering at her naked bottom as Janette started panicking. There was a blockage in her brain that prevented her from clearly thinking. She could sense it. It was right on the tip of her tongue, and yet out of reach.
She grabbed a chair close by; sat at the table, shaking her head trying to clear it. Her long hair swishing around her face; her bangs covering her eyes, like a sheepdog, Robert would always tell her.
Dream Robert was saying something. She could see his jaw moving, but no words. He was shouting or pleading . . .angry? Why would he be upset? She was straining to listen. Low whispers. Someone shut off the volume. The more she tried, the more her head hurt.
Chapter One
The alarm went off promptly at seven a.m. Janette Windsong, twenty-five, frowned throwing her blanket aside. Then laying there for a moment, she stared at the ceiling. Like every other morning, she was trying to recall a frequent and disturbing dream. The whole experience. Increasingly. Bits at a time added each night started becoming clearer with each night. Like all nights, it faded with the sunrise.
A Dave Matthew band song automatically started playing. Seattle’s 103.7 The Mountain. Normally she enjoyed his music. It was a station serving up great progressive rock. This daybreak however, something did not sit well with her. Normally, Janette was a vibrant morning person; really to tackle the tasks she planned.
Yawning, she looked at the clock. It was now seven thirty. Grimacing, and disturbed by the cryptic mess of symbolism, she shut the alarm off. Janette had an excellent memory. Then why couldn’t she keep any aspects of the nightly show? All that she could think of was it meant something. Not sure what.
Shoving the thought into the back into her mind for another time, Janette threw back the covers. There was much to do today. Robert was coming back after a trip to New York City, and she was to meet him at the airport. She had mixed emotions about what she was going to do and what she was going to say to him.
She went over to the window of her apartment, marveling at the sight of Puget Sound. Usually, she could see the Ferry in the distance, returning from Bremerton. The scene was usually blue skies and hope.
Today, however, was grey and foggy. She heard the foghorn sounding in the distance. It reminded her of a trip she had made from Bremerton. Coming around the bend, A huge fog bank like a portal from the Bermuda Triangle centered itself directly in the middle of the Sound, swallowed up Seattle’s docks.
The horn was blasting away. The crew of the ferry did not see the docks in time, until it was too late. The boat veered sharply to the left making a horribly scraping sound, against the edge. Fortuity, everyone disembarked safely. Frighted but nevertheless okay.
She turned her attention to her room. Spotless. She had OCD of the terminal kind when it came to cleaning. The only elephant in the room was the bed. A queen size waterbed. Naturally, Robert enjoyed it. He had made her buy it. She did not enjoy it. The sex was brutal. Robert did not make love. Love showed passion. The joining of two souls. Robert knew nothing of such things. Rather, he dried fucked Janette like an animal. His jamming and constant motion of the waterbed made her seasick and nauseous.
The carpet was plush and white, feeling good on her bare feet, as she rose off the bed onto her floor; pondered another question. A critical issue. She had a classy two-bedroom apartment, with a view of the Sound. Never in a million years though, could she afford this. She had no job. She had not worked in years, but every month, there would be a substantial direct deposit into her account.
She could hear the beeping of the coffee makers, as the brew automatically percolated. She looked in the closet, none of what she had seemed right. She wondered what she was going to wear to welcome Robert back to Seattle.
“What an off morning,” she sighed, peeling off her oversized T-shir in full sight of the window.
She waved to the window; turning, she appraised the perfection of her nude body in the full-length mirror behind her. Her long flowing, black hair reached down her supple back, complimenting the deep, rich, natural Native American tan.
“I might have well joined a Convent with what I have,” she said, returning her attention back to the closet. She needed better clothes, but Robert would have none of the general reaction. He wanted no one else ogling her but him.
“Then you should pay more attention to me,” she ventured aloud. “If you won’t someone else will.”
It was time for more than a change of clothes, she thought, as she reached up to the shelf, bringing down a dusty box. Opening it, she lifted out a short-fringed skirt that Carmen, her best friend, had picked out for her. She ran her hand over the soft material, remembering the conversation they had over it.
“It’s you,” Carmen breathed, as she handed Janette the outfit, while they were out shopping together. “It would look so nice on you, and it would complement your legs so well.”
“It’s too short,” Janette complained. Robert would never let me wear it.”
“Robert,” Carmen began, “is stupid and jealous. “
“Don’t start,” Janette replied. “You hardly know him.”
“Baby doll, you are so unappreciated.”
Janette had sighed, the skirt still in her hand, unconsciously feeling the fabric.
“Okay, I do not know him. He hates me being around you. The pig. I would not give him any kind of benefits,”
Janette looked at her hermaphrodite friend. Both bullied and teased since fourth grade, they have been best friends. Watching each other’s back. The only one to get through each other’s shell.
“He is just being protective,” Janette offered weakly.
“He’s a dumb, uninformed redneck.” Carmen mumbled. “I guess that it’s okay for him to leer at other women, then continue to mistreat you.”
“This is not really the best time for this,” Janette said, looking around the store to see who was listening.
“Never is,” Carmen replied, quietly. “Wake up sweetie, before something happens to you.”
Janette frowned.
“This is still not me.”
“I don’t see you putting the skirt back,” Carmen said hopefully. “You desperately need a makeover. Your clothes are so drab and, well, they’re dumpy. Buy something hot. You have the funds. God only know where that comes from. We can box up the shit in your closet and donate it. Now getting back to said funds, any luck tracking the whereabouts?”
Janette was silent.
“That private investigator, I hired. . .he suddenly retired to Florida. It was a sad voice message. I should not worry about paying him,” He informed me.
“I wish you could remember,” Carmen said. “It’s quite a mystery.”
“It is,” Janette replied. “I wish I could remember as well.”
“Now, back to the skirt. Put it on!”
“I cannot wear it. Something would show. I like a little mystery.”
“Oh pooh.” She pushed. Janette in the direction pf the dressing rooms. “Treat yourself,” Carmen ordered.
Janette finally conceded and went into the dressing room.
She came out minutes later.
“Well?” She began.
“You look great!” Carmen spoke in lusty tones. But the compliment was lost on her friend, as mixed emotion showed in Janette’s brown eyes.
“Did you even look in the mirror?”
“I feel wrong,” Janette insisted. “It is too short.”
“Wow!” A male clerk spoke excitedly, almost dropping a box he carried. “That is most deficiently you, miss,” he told Janette bringing his tone down. He was aware someone was watching. Not wanting anyone to read him about the riot act, he corrected his actions, quickly walking away in embarrassment.
“Well?” Carmen asked. “Was he getting hard or not? I defiantly saw a boner with those tight slacks he was wearing.”
“Shhhh,” Janette hissed. That is just one person, and no, I was not looking.”
“I was,” Carmen replied. “I might ask him out on a date.”
Janette tried to argue, but Carmen knew that she prevailed.
“Wear it home, and see,” Carmen challenged. It is high time that you started doing and enjoying things for yourself, Janette. Now, let us see what else we can get you. A nice top to go with the skirt.”
***
It took ten minutes for Janette to become acclimated to the sheer white top, after the clerk rang up her purchase. Janette wanted to buy a jacket to cover her headlights, but Carmen would have none of it. The one-inch white stiletto heels, she found difficult to walk in.
“We need to step out of the shop and walk around for a bit,” Carman said seeing the jerky movement. “You are out of practice.”
“Walk,” she cried at Carmen’ suggestion. “I have a car.”
“It is not like I am asking you to walk home. Just a block or two. You got the goods to stop traffic.”
Not Satisfied in her appearance, and mortified at the near traffic collision she almost caused when Carmen told her to raise her arms and yawn. Janette moved her neck in a different direction when she kept stopping and tugged at the tight top.
“Christ, people can see my nipples! It is low cut, and the fabric itches. Too much is showing. I need my bra!”
“You play with that any further and we will get us arrested.”
“You are enjoying this aren’t you?” Janette questioned.
“All natural suits you, babe.” Carmen said, as they turned around to return to Janette’s car.
##
Placing the boxes next to her apartment door, Janette fumbled clumsily for her key. Stopping, she looked around at the hallway. It was quiet, save for the barking of the fawn-colored Chihuahua, which heralded the approach of two women walking behind them. The ginger female nodded at her appearance, while the brunette clasped her companion hand tighter dragging her down the hall. Carmen had to rush to get to her job promising to be back. She gave Janette a peck on the cheek, before hurrying away.
Key in hand, she contemplated how long she had been living here. With Robert’s absence, it was a fog that was slowly beginning to lift in her mind, The longer they stayed apart, the better the better she felt. It was a divine revelation. There was a house, which she shared with another person. Could Robert. . . Was he. . .doing something to her? Could Carmen be correct about him?
“Are you alright, dear?” A voice asked behind her.
Janette turned, and noticed an elderly man, in plaid pants and a light blue shirt. How long was she standing there?
“Mr. Dawson, no. . .yes,” she answered. Her response tumbling out of her mouth. She hoped her elderly neighbor came across her door, did not notice.
“I was just thinking.” Janette said.
“You looked troubled, “ he said, placing a hand on her shoulder, as he turned to go back to his apartment. “I worry about you so.”
“Mr. Dawson?”
“Yes,” he said, turning around.
“How long have I been living here?”
“Coming up on two years now,” he replied with a puzzled look on his face. “Why?”
“I . . .am not sure,” she replied opening the door.
“Here,” Mr. Dawson offered. “Let me help you with your thing.”
“And Robert,” she ventured.
“That man is no good for you,” he whispered. His arms were full of boxes. “Just a no-good thieving punk.”
“Let me help you with those boxes,” She said. “ I can bring them in one at a time.”
“I have it,” he argued holding down an urge to spit. “I may be old, but still spry; I thanks you for the exercise equipment.”
“You are welcome,” she said, as he placed the boxes next to her sofa. “Have to keep up appearances so that you can fight off the ladies.”
“I miss my Emily. Not sure, anyone else could even come close to her. “
“Anything else I can do, just let me know, “Janette spoke.
“The best thing you can do for me is to kick Robert to the curb young lady. All he and his father care about is getting a hold of your money.”
She watched him toddle out of her apartment and back to his own.
Was that true? Was her money all Robert wanted? Her neighbor and Carmen were correct about him. Kicking him to the curb, as Mister Dawson put it, might very well be in her best interest.