55Friday: The “Cherub Rock” Edition

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I believe in Sliding Doors.

I believe in Serendipity (though I never ventured there myself).

And yes, I believe that at least one angel watches over me. There’s no other explanation for my stupidly good luck or the consistent little miracles which always make my heart lift a little bit in my chest as my hands fly to cover my face from either shock, delight or both. I’m a girly-girl and a Christian one at that, so for me, this is a season for miracles. True to my Orthodox roots (and like a certain Uncle and Auntie in Florida who used to wear buttons pointedly declaring this fact), I believe that Jesus is the reason for the season. If I do THAT, then I have to suspend cynicism, don’t I?

:+:

7:15. Metro. Red line to Glenmont. I hear the infamous, “Doors closing!” as I’m rushing down the escalator at Tenleytown, just as fast as my Connolly-colored mukluks could take me.

I skip the last three steps but it’s too late. Six minutes to the next train. That’s not so bad– it seems better than the Orange line, anyway. Six minutes pass, I board and after Cleveland Park, we pause for no apparent reason as the operator announces “Stand by.” I roll my eyes. I just want to get home.7:35. Dupont Circle metro. I climb the obscenely long escalator, hang right and rush towards the “other side” of Connecticut Avenue, where the pretty Starbucks and Kramerbooks is…there’s some commotion but this is Dupont Circle and weird crap happens all the time.

7:45 Two plain-clothes-clad police officers or detectives stop me outside of Ruth’s Chris.

“Miss, did you just walk up Connecticut Avenue?”

“I did, what’s wrong?”

“There have been a series of muggings in the area– the perp has a knife and is considered dangerous. Please look at this picture and tell us if you’ve seen him.”

I do.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I have-“

“That’s okay. Take the flyer and be careful, he’s here somewhere and armed. We just missed him.”

He’s pointing down the street, exactly where I just walked.

“WHAT?”

“Yes, around 7:30, down by Kramerbooks. Stay alert.”

As I walk away, I hear the other officer say, “I can’t believe we just missed him.”

My friend was violently mugged in the same area the next day (he’s…okay). Considering the amount of time I spend running around D.C. AND the fact that it gets darker earlier, I feel lucky to have not suffered the same fate. No, I don’t think I’m the beneficiary of the randomness of the universe. 🙂 Mock it if you will, I don’t mind.

:+:

This Friday, write 55 word short stories about the moments which leave you with flesh more suited for geese; whether you are a fan of the movies I commenced this post with or the X-Files (or hell…both), find inspiration in the ethereal and the intangible. Explore intuition or celluloid depictions of destiny (and frozen hot chocolate), and if none of those ideas move you, disregard me entirely and write about a subject you prefer– just leave your nanofiction in the comments below if you haven’t posted a link to where we may find it.

While I am sick of seeing this cheesy duo, I still believe Cherubs Rock (especially when the Smashing Pumpkins say so).

21 thoughts on “55Friday: The “Cherub Rock” Edition”

  1. Weeping, I knelt in the back pew. “God IÂ’m aching. I don’t know how long I can handle my isolation. This is tougher than I thought.” Sobbing softly in the emptiness I raised my head. Jesus reached for me from a mural. Etched below his feet were the words “Lo, I Am With You Always”.

  2. Morning. Going home with mom after a sleepover.

    “How are you feeling?” “Fine. Why?” “Had a feeling you would call last night to pick you up because you were sick.”

    Weird: Not sick when I left. Was sick there. Was going to call but didnÂ’t.

    “What time?” “About 10:30 pm”

    Weirder: Yes, at 10:30 pm.

  3. inspired by Kit-and-kumari at #2… 🙂

    :+:

    Daddy is omnipresent, Mummy is omniscient.

    “MUMMY! Finally!” “Hiiiiiii.” “Oh…wait, who told…no…” “You have some good news?” “Yeah…I got a job, but your ‘Hiiiii’ sounds like you knew, who told you??” “No one! Yay! The job you want?” “Yes, but how did you KNOW?” “I’m your MOTHER. I know everything. Including that you haven’t brushed your teeth yet. Congratulations, edi stinky.”

  4. My dad tried to save as many of them as he could before leaving for work, hiding them underneath outdated sweaters in the bottom of the closet. She had plenty of time, with scissor and knife, with anger and rage, to cut and scrape and erase her sonÂ’s face from thirty years worth of memories.

  6. life long veggie. antioxidant and pro-green fanatic. occupational therapist. passionate community worker. Cancer? “reiki”. prayer. meditation. Three kids to teach a lifetime of learning A surgery date so soon? top hospital. most experienced doctor. flawless operation. Post-operative care?? minimal consciousness. five months. no change. fear versus faith. Where did you say the miracles are?

  8. Three months before, we sipped tea on the flagstones of her family’s vacation home, in the solemn morning fogs only a hill station can produce. “I’ll never come here again”, she said. With sixteen trips in sixteen years, odds were she would.

    Three months later, an accident, and her death.

  10. He got quickly out of the bus. Ran around to hide and crossing…fell face down as the other bus came to a squealing halt. He had never seen his father panic. Picking him up on that foggy morning in Coonoor with the dogs barking, single dad said to single son “Chai?” and lighted his cigarette, with steady hands.

  11. I and my cousin were going through one of the worst periods of our lives. We were mindlessly wandering in the Barnes and Nobles store and found ourselves in the religion section. We smiled. I picked up a prayer book (365 prayers: A prayer a day) and randomly opened a page. The date was 10 th July –my cousin’s birthday. We smiled with our eyes. Then, she randomly opened a page for me—14 th March (my birthday). We hugged. Everything was going to be fine.

  12. His wife had left him, heartbroken he thought of Shirdi. On the way the car broke down. The last bus left. The train was too crowded. He couldn’t get on. He gave up. The train moved. Then it stopped. A hand pulled him in. Just enough room for him and his family. Shirdi it is.

    true story

  13. Raj felt like hell on Thursday morning. Vomiting, pain everywhere, lack of sleep. And now he’d have to postpone that job interview too. Damned food-poisoning again.

    What a crappy, crappy day, he thought.

    He collapsed on the sofa and turned on the television.

    “Multiple explosions confirmed across the capital”…..”Reports are sporadic”…..”Train services are currently paralysed…..”

    London, 7.7.05. Based on a true story.

  14. Joe tried to shake the déjà vu as he lay in the reclined chair. Whatever.

    “It’s a cavity, Joseph.” said Dr. Singh, as he arranged his torturous instruments.

    It was then that Joe noticed the dentistÂ’s name tag: LAKHVINDER SINGH, DDS.

    Lakhi? The kid I pushed around back in school!?

    The drill began to buzz.

  15. Very good, TheKingSingh 😉 Is it a true story ?

    It reminded me of that ER episode a few seasons ago where a Neo-Nazi ends up on the operating table, and one of the docs appears to consider letting him die (my memory’s a bit blurred but I think that was what happened. It was a few years ago).

  16. Jai Singh seconded. It reminded me of a “Shopful of Horrors”:-) Pass the NO2 please…

  17. In 6-Flags walked with S to the small roller-coaster. Stopped at the rest room, wait behind me two feet away. Finished, turn around, gone! Rush out, scan the crowd, millions of 5 year olds. Call security, shouting, while concerned strangers want to know details. Just find him. Run to my wife. There he is, merrily in conversation.

  18. Thanks Jai. It only took me all weekend to do it, too. I would also say that is has some basis in truth, though more in theme rather than plot. 😉

  19. I’m looking forward to hearing what your fave music of 2006 was. Cherub rock has one of the all-time great alt rock guitar solos. I always turn it up to 11 .

  20. “Ah, of course. Silly me.” He hangs up the phone, walks to his deceased maasi’s suitcase, rolls the numbers on the lock. 1-2-3-4, what else? Glance at the clock: 12:34am. He blinks, opens the top. A deck of cards on a folded red sari; four hearts leaked from the box. A shiver runs down his spine.