Author Games: Circle

Task One | 1-10 Entries

1 // IVY DEVLIN

Ivy Devlin has seen many things.

It's a rare occasion, however, when she relives these memories during the day. She's busy, you know, and even though she might want to answer all the questions her young patients have to offer regarding her age, she knows the parents in the lounge would like very much for their child to be in and out of her makeshift doctor's office as soon as possible.

She understands this, at any rate. After the last lollipop reaches the grasping hands of the day's last patient, Ivy shuffles over to her kitchen's calendar while simultaneously waving goodbye to the child and her parents. She's gotten into the habit of using a calendar after the time her memory failed her, and she forgot one of her patients as she closed for the day. Needless to say, his parents were quite upset, but in the end, the mix-up sorted itself out, and the boy received an updated prescription for his glasses.

She smiles at the memory and lightly crosses out the last name for the day.

While it remains true that Ivy Devlin rarely relives her many memories during the day, she appreciates her alone time during which she can let her mind wander. Once the calendar has been sorted out and updated for the next day, she walks to her front closet, sorting through her many coats and vests for her fleece, perfect for the cooler weather that comes with the hiding sun and ocean breezes. She hurriedly totters to the makeshift office and retrieves her forgotten cane, propped against the back wall next to the inspection table.

Grabbing her shoehorn, gloves, and pockabook once she passes through the kitchen again, Ivy stops at the front door, reaching into the side pocket of the bag for her house keys. The tips of her fingers graze against something cold; she closes her hand, pulling out the single, silver key.

The wooden door squeals horrendously as she yanks it open with all the strength she can muster. She's considered getting it fixed on numerous occasions but always decided against it; money exists, after all, and in Ivy's case, adding onto her 401k hasn't been the easiest of tasks. She supposes, though, that her attempts to open the thing technically count as exercise. That, and it could distract any drunken invaders and alert her of their presence before the situation escalates.

Tendrils of cold air rush into the house and into her lungs with the opening of the door, temporarily disrupting the balance of room-temperature air she's been breathing. She leans forward on her cane with both hands, readjusting herself to the jarring shift in surroundings.

She rebalances and takes a drawn-out breath. Zipping up her fleece to her neck, Ivy takes her first, shaky steps on the gravel driveway. She's been meaning to replace it, actually; it's lighter on the pockets that asphalt, but rougher on the legs, especially the knees. Her steps are slow and thought-out until she reaches her front gate, the beginning of concrete. There, she strides, long and confident, if you ignore the occasional trip-up and small stumble.

She wishes the coastal landscape could be more like her strange walk: more random and incoherent to those who aren't familiar with it. To her right, the yellow-lit pastures and the ever-so-subtle outline of distant, seaside cliffs illuminated by the rare streetlights have lost their appeal; she presumes that visitors to the area might appreciate the rustic feel of the land, but after year after year of her night walks, it's all blended together into a distorted mess of tall grass and the echo of crashing waves. Nevertheless (and she finds this rather odd), she still considers her location beautiful. While it's bland to her, she says that those who live by the edge of the Grand Canyon must've stopped rising out of bed in the mornings eager to gaze upon one of the Earth's largest scars.

Ivy runs her gloved hands against the wooden fence separating the trampled grass of the sidewalk from the wispy grass of the neighboring field. Above her are the power lines, supported by wooden posts which extend from various fence posts. They light up the row of houses to the left of her, the main population center of Dunseverick.