Blog Entry #4

     Freedom.  Almost a month after being locked up, Shaniqua finally exited the county jail, heading back towards Castle Apartments walking west on Poplar.  Even though she was evicted from her apartment, she had no place else to go.  On a whim, Ms. King headed south on H. Street.  I need a smoke, Shaniqua thought to herself.  She lit up a cheap Marboro as the heavens opened up.  The onslaught of rain soaked Shaniqua, causing her to run for cover under the back awning of Forever 21.

     After 20 minutes the storm slowed down to a light drizzle.  Seeing her chance to make it to a more permanent shelter for the night, Shaniqua errantly tossed the cigarette down.  As she ran up H. Street, the rain steadily began to increase again.  Headed in the opposite direction was a man Shaniqua only knew as Lucas, flustered.  Turning around to watch him pass, Shaniqua noticed the faint glow from Forever 21.  Shit.  Immediately she ran up the streets not knowing where she was headed, only that she had to get away from the inferno behind her.

Blog Entry #3

     Car horns and loud voices echoed off the buildings.  "8 more hours of this shit", Shaniqua thought to herself.  Suddenly, the door to Casa D' Waffles burst open to reveal her out of breath manager.  "Shaniqua!  Downtown is crowded, there's a broken-down bus, and the coffee shop's closed!  I'll hold down the store, and I need you to go out and spread the word; we're having a coffee and waffle special!"  "I can't!" Shaniqua replied.  "I rolled my ankle yesterday, and I don't want to aggravate it."  "Too bad!" he yelled at her.  "Get out there and make me some money!"

     Furious, Shaniqua charged out of Casa D' Waffles, and headed towards H Street.  A crowd of people and noise filled Popular Avenue as she made the turn from Benson.  As she passed by the bus, the passenger-side doors flung open, knocking Shaniqua to the ground.  The bus driver marched down the steps, and looking at Shaniqua, said "Serves you right, dumb bitch."  Shaniqua stood up, newly sprained ankle and all.  "I am done putting up with this bull."  In one quick motion, Shaniqua Washington King effectively ended her short career as a waiter at Casa D' Waffles, decking the small  bus driver with one punch.  Everything was a blur.  The sirens, the handcuffs, and the musty smell of the backseat of a police cruiser.  "How did my life come to this?"

Blog Entry #2

       It had to stop.  As soon as possible.  "Free waffles in the middle of a ghetto," Shaniqua mused as another homeless drunk walked in the door.  Recognizing the man by his stocking cap, Shaniqua glanced at the clock and back into the kitchen.  5 minutes past her shift was supposed to be up and no sign of her replacement.  "Can I take your order?" Shaniqua demanded sharply, hoping to get food in his mouth before he started his rambling again.  "Free waffle," the man muttered, almost to himself.  "Would you like to order anything else?" Shaniqua asked, as company policy dictates.  "I already have," he replied.  "Sir, no you haven't.  Here we go again."  "The truth with all it's power lies inside me," he continued.  "Next customer!" Shaniqua yelled to an imaginary patron behind the man in the stocking cap.  The man turned, appearing to see the customer Shaniqua pointed out, muttered something barely audible under his breath, and moved to a table in the back corner of Casa D' Waffles.  "Need to remember that one," Shaniqua thought to herself.

       With impeccable timing, John pushed open the door from the kitchen, out of breath and still putting his uniform on.  With a glare from his narrow face and not a word between them, Shaniqua went back into the kitchen, grabbed her unread mail off the table, and sat down in a vacant chair.  Magazines subscriptions, the rent for room 42 at Castle Apartments, and product advertisements, and then suddenly all too familiar handwriting was staring Shaniqua in the face.  He wanted money.  And more than the usual, $500 this time.  "The rent's going to be late this month."  If he kept up this increase, the truth might have to come out, even if it cost Shaniqua everything she had.  But if she let this continue, she would still lose everything.  "The truth with all it's power lies inside me."  The irony eluded Shaniqua.  Taking off her work clothes, Shaniqua walked quickly out the door.  The man in the stocking cap was still in the corner, clutching an old leatherbound book to his chest as he mumbled with his eyes closed.  "Poor man," Shaniqua thought in a rare moment of compassion.  Turning her collar up to the light rain, Shaniqua started for her residence at a quick pace.

Blog Entry #1

       The day started with a sizzle, literally.  "Name?" the receptionist repeated, in her hispanic accent atypical concerning the population of the town.  "You know my name!" Shaniqua replied in disgust.  Usually she would have been more patient with Rosa, but 2nd degree burns on her forearm prevented any sort of a pleasent manner from Shaniqua.  The pain was horrible, but the stench of rotting flesh made the whole ordeal almost unbearable.  It was Shaniqua's third trip to the clinic this month, none of the routine nature.  Two holdups gone wrong, and now a grease fire on top of that at Casa D' Waffles.  These last few months in particular had not been kind to Ms. (formerly Mrs.) King.  

       Five more hours and she would have graduated from nearby Decatur University, but instead works a dead-end job as a cook and waitress at the local eatery.  Even worse, her marriage ended in divorce, with Shaniqua losing the love of her life and one son in the split.  God had always provided for her, but recent events had shaken her beliefs in a supreme being down to the very core; Shaniqua hadn't attended Mass at St. Magdeline's in three weeks.  "Damn, should've gotten married after college.  Should've taken more classes first semester..."

"Next patient!" Rosa yelled in her barely understandable English, jarring Shaniqua from her thoughts.  "So different, yet so similar to the landlord," she thought to herself.  Shaniqua didn't care what the landlord's name was, along with the rest of the town.  Besides her idiot boss at Casa D' Waffles and Rosa, she neither wanted or needed to know anyone else's name.  "And also the nut across the hall," Shaniqua thought to herself. Scooby Doolittle, her functional mentally impaired neighbor across the hall was as unforgettable in personality as in name.  

       Sleeves rolled up and hair let down, the late August heat bearing down on her skin spread the smell of the now scabbing burn all over town as she walked back to Castle Apartments room 42 at a quick pace; her arm elevated by two bandage wraps.  "Not home," she thought to herself.  "Temporary residence."