Prologue: Shadow Boxes

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is the prologue written for my next novel called "Shadow Boxes." I dedicate this book to MY Redd. My best friend.

Submitted: July 24, 2009

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Submitted: July 24, 2009

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She always loved the rain. Okay, so maybe she wouldn't love it as much if she hadn't discovered that kissing in the middle of it with a really hot guy can actually be fun. But since she did harvest this information, she loved it when it rained.

But this is something that didn't happen every so often in dry and deserted Arizona. No, those days were few and far between. And everyone knew that when those days finally did manage to come that you'd better park your cars inside and hunker down with some movies, candles and matches, because when it hit, it hit hard.

And on those rare rainy days when it would pour and she didn't have a partner she would often lie on her bed and listen to the thrum of the raindrops pelting down on her window pane. She would close her eyes and fantasize about the secret man outside her window.

She would let a small smile spread across her face. And, eventually, she would sit up and peep outside to catch a glimpse of him. But the rain would always obstruct her view. She could never quite fully see him.

It wasn't the fact that he wasn't really there; no, she knew that it was all wishful thinking. But, like Snow White, she knew that someday her prince would come and rescue her. Well, kind of rescue her. She would prefer that they just catch eyes from across a courtyard in the middle of the pouring rain and just run to each other and have him catch her in the throws of new-found ecstasy. That sounded much more romantic and passionate than being a damsel in distress.

So... who is she?

If her mother chose to take a chance and spun the color wheel in the delivery room, then fate would have it that her name would be Redd. With two D's. It's adds to the mystery, don't you think?

Well, none of that “damsel in distress” nonsense with Redd. Just give her a bucket of paint and you have a work of art. Give her a hammer and she'll-- whoa, wait. Bad analogy.

The point is, anything you throw in this girl's direction, I can more than bet that she'll be just as good as you at it, if not better.

She can apply a perfect make-up job to her light colored eyes and her red-- coincidentally-- hair is always styled to perfection. She is certainly the epitome of a woman.

And right now that's exactly what she's doing, at home in her bed, listening to the rain pelting against the glass of her window. She's lying there dreaming about what could be. What may be. And what, someday, will be.

And this... well, this is her story.


© Copyright 2020 Benji Madison. All rights reserved.

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