My Field of Dreams

Written for my Creative Writing II class based off of "Field of Dreams". Some of it is fiction, some isn't.

 

 

            I had that feeling you usually get right after throwing up. My legs and arms were shaking and my heart was pounding like mad. I was standing in CVS, contemplating whether to get Easy Mac or Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup. Here I am, stuck again, stuck making another decision. Though, this one isn’t life changing, it’s still a matter of how much it costs. I wanted the soup, but the macaroni was cheaper, and so I bought the less appealing food, just so I wouldn’t waste money.

            To be perfectly honest, I could care less about how much something costs, as long as it’s my money, but my mother is different than me on that matter. You see, my parents are currently going through a troublesome divorce. All that matters to them is money, money, and more money. Boy, if I had it my way, I’d be sitting outside in Tuscany, Italy, writing my life away happily. I paid for my macaroni and cheese, and headed home…a place I refer to as Hell.       

            I’ve been living with my grandma and my mother in a town house in East Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania since October 21^st, 2007. Don’t get me wrong, I love my grandma…I just think she needs to mind her own damn business, that’s all. I absolutely hate living with the woman; it’s come to the point where I felt myself going crazy…kind of like this post-throwing up feeling I’m currently experiencing.

            I made my way into the dreaded house that stood before me. I took a deep breath and climbed up the stairs to my room. The room where everyone is in, because of the computer occupying space that could be mine, but I sometimes forget that it isn’t my house; and so the computer stays. I turned on the light and shut the door behind my back. I took out a pen and paper and got ready to write, but before I began, I went back down to microwave my mac and cheese, and ate. I tried to finish fast on the account of grandma coming to the kitchen from the basement. I always knew when she was coming up or down because of the fact that she sounds like a horse while walking on the steps.

            I quickly threw away the little blue plastic cup, and put my fork in the dishwasher. I still had time before she knew of my presence in the kitchen. My room was just two steps and a hallway away…she saw me.

“Where are you going?” she asked me. I rolled my eyes and turned to face her.

“I have a lot of homework.” I always found myself lying to her about having homework. Ya know, I never knew homework would come in handy one day.

“A lot? In what subject?” she always needed to know everything. She always tells me that I keep too many secrets, though, the truth is, I just don’t want to tell her anything.

            At eight o’clock grandma knocked on my door. She came in and I just felt the urge to scratch her face.

“Do you really have that much homework?” she asked.

“Well, I’m writing now.” I responded, calm as a cat.

“Writing…yeah, okay, you’re always ‘writing.’” She said like she didn’t believe me, when my pen and notebook was clearly visible. She then left in a disgusted manner, and that was my time to say every four and five letter word I felt like saying about her.

            I woke up the next morning with a note on my night-stand. It read:

“July 16^th, 2008. I got plane tickets and room accommodations to Italy.”

I had to look twice to make sure I wasn’t mistaken. This would be my fourth time to Italy, but my first time this spontaneously. July 16^th was just four days away and I hardly hand time to get anything ready and tell everyone. Thousands of thoughts swam through my mind…”Was I going alone? Where in Italy? Who’s hand wrote this?” that was just the start of the questions…more followed as the day went on. I asked my mother and she informed me of what would be happening July the 16^th.

            Apparently, I was going to Tuscany by myself. I would be flying first-class there and back, and be living in a private cottage for three weeks. When I received this information, I really thought it was a practical joke being played on me. I had wanted nothing more than what has been given to me.

“And who did all of this?” I asked my mom my final question.

“Your grandmother.” She responded casually. I nodded my head, feeling bad for all the bad things I wished to do to her when she’s in her “angered stage of the day”.

“Oh. Where is she?” I asked, wanting to thank her.

“She went to church.” My mom said, and then fixed herself something to eat. I joined her, and then got ready for my journey of a life-time.

FOUR DAYS LATER (JULY 16^TH)

            I was dropped off at JFK Airport, and boarded my plane to Rome, which would then take me to a private port in Tuscany. I had never ridden first class on a plane before, it felt good not having knee pains after the long nine hour flight.

            The plane landed in the private port and I was greeted by a very handsome Italian boy. He looked to be about nine-teen…he held a sign that read “Jessica Auster” in red. I strode to the boy who held the sign and told him I was Jessica. He smiled and walked me to the car that would be taking me to my cottage. I had one carry-on with me and a purse that would last me my two weeks. The boy looked at me like I was crazy for only having that much with me.

“There’s a small flea-market near where you’ll be staying.” He explained to me, knowing I’d run out of clothes.

“Hah, thanks uhm..?” I questioned, wanting to know his name.

“My name is Vincenzo.” He smirked. I smiled, and continued to look out the window.

            The car slowed down as we drove up a stone driveway that led to a small house surrounded by agriculture and beauty. I smelled the sweet, summer Italian air and felt I was finally home.

Reviews

[Texas Ink]

Your style is great, an easy read, no complications. Dreams are a funny business in my experience, I know this is sort of like an autobiography but wouldn't it be interesting if the characters dreams changed once in Italy or maybe that uneasy feeling was a sign she was pregnant, now thousands of miles away from home. Bah but thats me. I would love to take a creative writing class, maybe i will...

[THE BLACK SEAL]

the way you tell this story s very refreshing and the flow of it is amazing. i think you have a true talent for writing and i hope you keep going. it is much more profound than when i first strated reading your stuff 6 months ago. you constantly grow and it is nice to be able to watch the process occur