<div style="font-size:10pt;font-family:arial,helvetica,sans-serif;color:black;">abbie,<br><br>sorry this is the wrong piece, but it is all I have.<br><br>Leonard<br>######<br><br><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<p>Interesting story. <u>I like where you’ve gone with it.</u> <u>I really like
the end. I think you have done a good job of intertwining the two lives. Once I
knew that the first part of the piece was a dream, I appreciated the dream like
quality of that experience. I love the<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Parra
psychological<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>aspects of the story.
You’ve done a good job with that.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There
are a few ;places where I had to stop and figure out what was going on, but I
don’t think you need to change anything.</u></p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal" style="text-align:center;text-indent:
.5in" align="center">ABANDONED</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal" style="text-align:center;text-indent:
.5in" align="center"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">As she trudged down the alley, Vanessa glimpsed what
looked like a small blanket. The night was dark, and no moon lit her way. She
was tempted to walk past, but a whimpering from within the blanket stopped her.
</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">She knelt, and bit by bit, she pulled back the cover
to reveal first a head, then a torso, then arms and legs. The body was naked
from head to toe. Exposed to the elements, the baby cried in earnest.</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">"Oh my God," she said, re-wrapping, then
scooping the infant into her arms. "Where's your mommy? Who could have
just dumped you out here like this?"</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">In the eerie silence, she wished now she hadn't taken
this shortcut home. She’d been in a hurry. Unable to afford a baby-sitter,
she’d left her two children, ages eight and ten, home alone. She’d told them to
do their homework, then go to bed at nine o’clock if she wasn’t back. She’d
only planned to be gone until then, but now, it was nearly ten. Her writing
group meeting had run later than usual.</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">Feeling a sense of impending doom, she decided to
retrace her steps and take the long way home. Once in the safety of her
apartment, she would call the police about the baby. She hoped someone from the
department of family services could pick up the child right away. She couldn't
feed another hungry mouth.</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-indent:-.25in;
mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1;tab-stops:list .5in"><span style="font-family:Symbol;mso-fareast-font-family:Symbol;mso-bidi-font-family:
Symbol"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">·<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman"">
</span></span></span><u>Try to find a way to use fewer (shes) in the
above paragraph.</u></p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">The baby continued to wail. “Shhhh,” said Vanessa, as
she turned in the direction from which she’d come. A dark figure appeared ahead
of her. Vanessa froze. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be all right,” she
said, more to calm herself than the baby.</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">The figure spoke in a harsh woman's voice. "Hey,
bitch, what are you doing with my baby?"</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">Another figure appeared, and a second woman’s voice
said, “Bobbi, this is the pick-up I told you about. They’re going to pay us a lot
of money, and they’ll find her a good home, a better home than we can give her.
Remember? The woman on the phone said to leave the baby in the alley behind the
building, and she would pick her up. That’s her.”</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-indent:-.25in;
mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1;tab-stops:list .5in"><span style="font-family:Symbol;mso-fareast-font-family:Symbol;mso-bidi-font-family:
Symbol"><span style="mso-list:Ignore">·<span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman"">
</span></span></span><u>The woman on the phone introduces a 4<sup>th</sup>
character. It was confusing to me. At this point, I don’t know it is part of a
dream, so I’m trying to put it into a logical framework. I succeed, but it made
me hesitate.</u></p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">“But that’s my baby. You can’t take her away. She’s
my flesh and blood. Please…” She burst into tears. </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">Vanessa ran, leaving Bobbi to grieve and the other
woman to comfort her. What sort of adoption agency required a person to abandon
a baby in an alley, she wondered, as she reached the street. She remembered
there was a police station on the next corner. She would leave the baby there,
tell her story, and be done with it. But as she ran toward the next
intersection, reassured by the distant whoosh of traffic, she heard running
footsteps behind her.</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">***</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">The baby kept crying. As she ran, the darkened
buildings and deserted street dissolved into the darkness of her squalid
bedroom. The baby crying in the basinet next to the bed was her own. She
reached for her daughter and held her close, wondering why she’d dreamed she
had two children. “Oh Danielle, it’s okay.” The crying ceased, as hungry lips
found a full breast. </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">“Oh sweetie, I think your grandma and grandpa are
right. I’m not going to make it as a writer, at least not financially. Maybe I
should go back to school and study journalism or something. In any case, I’ll
never abandon you in an alley, not even for a million bucks.” </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">The next afternoon, as Vanessa was walking through
the park with Danielle in a cheap stroller she'd recently purchased at a thrift
store, a woman approached her and said, "Oh, what a beautiful baby."
Vanessa almost gasped. The voice was similar to that of the woman in her dream
of the night before, the one who pleaded with her not to take her baby. It
couldn't be, she realized. </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">"I'm sorry," the other woman said. "I
didn't mean to startle you. It's just that... Well... I gave a baby up for
adoption several years ago, so whenever I see a baby, I always feel this
twinge... I mean... You're so lucky to have this baby."</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">Vanesa smiled. Then after gazing into the woman's
face that registered only compassion, she found herself poring her heart out to
this stranger. "Yeah, I feel lucky, and I wouldn't give her up for
anything in the world, but it's not easy. I'm trying to make it as a writer,
and I'm learning the hard way that writing isn't always that lucrative. I need
a job, but in order for me to work, I need day care for my daughter, and I
can't afford that."</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">The woman gave Vanesa a knowing smile. "I
understand. My parents convinced me to give up my baby for those same
reasons."</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">Vanessa remembered the scene from her dream, Bobbi,
begging her not to take her baby, and the other woman, maybe her mother or
sister, reminding her about the promised cash they would receive in exchange
for the baby. Surely this woman hadn't been forced to give her baby up in this
way.</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">As if reading her mind, the other woman said,
"It was a private adoption. My parents arranged it. What about your
folks?"</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">"Actually, mine have been supportive so far.
They love having a granddaughter, even if she is out of wedlock. They send me
an allowance every month, but I can't depend on them forever. They think I
should go back to school and major in journalism or something like that, but I
don't know."</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">"What do you write?"</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">"Oh, a little bit of this and a little bit of
that," Vanessa answered. "I've sent some poems and short stories to
some journals, but I've only gotten rejections."</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">"Well, I might be able to help, at least with
the writing." </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">She fished a card out of her purse and handed it to
Vanessa, who stared in amazement at its bold black lettering. "<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Bobbi Douglas, Author</i>." As she
scanned the contact information below the name, she realized the woman didn't
live too far from her run-down apartment building. She put the card in her pocket
and asked, "What kind of books do you write?"</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">"I just self-published a fantasy novel called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">The Shadow of Darkness, </i>and I'm working
on another. I also do some writing for Medford Media."</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">"Oh yeah, I like that rock station you guys
own."</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">"Well, I actually write human interest and
history pieces for the talk station, AM 950."</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">In the stroller, Danielle stirred and whimpered.
Vanessa glanced at her daughter, then turned to Bobbi with an apologetic smile.
"She doesn't like to be still very long. She always wants to keep moving
so she can see how things change around her." </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">Bobbi gave Vanessa a reassuring smile. "I
understand."</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">On impulse, Vanessa asked, "Would you like to
hold her?"</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">Bobbi's eyes lit up. "I'd like that."</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">Vanessa bent, lifted the baby, and handed her to
Bobbi. "I named her after Danielle Steel, one of my favorites." Her
face grew hot, as it occurred to her that Bobbi probably didn't care for
Danielle steel, an author who didn't write fantasy novels.</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">The other woman surprised her by saying, "Oh, I
like Daniele Steel. I often read her books for pleasure."</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">Bobbi then smiled at the infant in her arms.
"Oh, look at you. Aren't you a pretty one? I'm so sorry I've kept your
mommy talking so long. You'll get going here in a minute, I promise."
Danielle cooed and smiled back. </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">"She likes you," said Vanessa, as Bobbi
placed the baby back in the stroller and turned to her. </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal" style="text-indent:.5in"><span style="mso-tab-count:
1"> </span>"Do you have any of your writing that you could show
me?" Bobbi asked.</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">Flabbergasted, Vanessa said, "Um, not with me,
but I could print something up at home and bring it to you. You don't live too
far away from me."</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">"Actually, I was thinking I could meet you and
Danielle tomorrow afternoon at Starbucks on Grant Avenue, and I could buy you a cup
of coffee or something. Would four o'clock work for you?"</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">"Sure," answered Vanessa. Self-conscious,
she added. "I don't really have anything that you'd call a fantasy novel,
but I'll check out your website tonight, and maybe I'll get inspired."</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">Bobbi laughed. "It doesn't matter if it's
fantasy or not. I just want to read something you've written. Then maybe I can
give you some direction."</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">"That would be great. Thanks so much. Will see
you tomorrow."</p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> </p>
<p class="aolmailmsonormal">The next afternoon, as Vanessa pushed Danielle's
stroller through the coffee shop's entrance, she felt a sense of hope. She
found Bobbi in a corner booth. After parking the stroller next to the table,
Vanessa sat down across have erer new friend and said, "You know, I had
the craziest dream about you the other night, and so I wrote this short story
about it."<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p>
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