Nicole Murray's Blog

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Autumn’s Child tells the desperate story of Layla, a young and naïve

twelve year-old girl. Over ten critical years, her life changes quickly like

the colors of the trees in Autumn. Her parents are killed in a car accident

and she is forced to abandon her religious middle-class lifestyle.

She moves to the inner city streets of Chicago with her grandmother

and aunt; her only living relatives. Layla’s perfect past-life haunts her

throughout her tormented journey. This story tells the tale of a young

girl stumbling through her new found reality as she continues to understand

that she has been dealt a different set of cards. Layla’s neighbor

and best friend, Shay, helps to guide her through adolescence to

adulthood. Layla’s loyalty, faith and sanity are continually tested as she

matures throughout each season of her life.

Autumn’s Child chronicles a life on the opposite side of the coin, where

friendships are developed through tragedy and the pressure of a marginalized

life bears down heavily on pure souls. Layla is faced with

many compromising decisions, all while pleading to answer the perpetual

question, what would you do?

View Autumn’s Child Trailer

L. Nicole Murray is a Chicago native. She

graduated from Columbia College with a

degree in Fiction Writing and Marketing,

and continues to write creatively. Nicole

lives in Chicago with her husband and

daughter. �This is her � first novel.

A foreign room harbors her fears as she slowly slides off her pants one leg at a time. Tina’s mature body overshadows her misled motivations. This strange man is sitting on the bed touching her bare legs, one at a time, as he asks, “So what are we talkin’ here?  What do you want for it?” It, as if it’s an object that she has in her possession. As some kind of drug trade, exchanging one addiction for another.

Tina looks up shyly, stiffening with his touch, “I don’t know. What do you got?”

Amateur, he thinks; she doesn’t even know what she’s worth. He was hoping for the type.

“Well Sweetie, I’ll tell you what. You seem like a nice girl. How about $200 for you to treat me real nice. You know, I’ll show you what I like. And if we have fun we can do this more often. What do ya say?”

She shivers not from the cold, but the lack of dignity missing in her soul. He lingers around until she finally lies down. The strange man then disappears inside of her like fresh snow falling on moist ground. Awkward tones and fake moans cry out for deliverance only to be ignored. She’s blinded by the potential future money will bring. They both roll over and smile, staring up at the stucco ceiling that reveals itself as the only witness.

Written by Nicole Murray

Room 319

The moon peeks in through the caramel curtains bringing nature into this unnatural place. The TV remains on and I’m afraid someone will hear my thoughts in silence. I hear her crying while I’m dying inside, so I walk towards the bathroom of this foreign hotel room. Stopping I see the lights sneak through all four cracks of the closed door. I hold my breath and walk in. How can I comfort her? How can I comfort myself?  She’s in my presence, naked, but not for me. I want to hold her, but I’m afraid she’d break, afraid my fears will seep into her pores and become a part of her, the part that I should be. But I can’t. I touch her arm. She’s as soft as every woman should be.

The bathroom faucet is on, filling the tub with purity in hopes that the constant stream will relax our scattered rhythm. She steps into the tub, but her shadow remains.

“I’m okay, really. It’s a big day for us. When ‘s Steve coming?” Nikki asks me.

“He should be on his way. This is it baby. Are you ready?” she shoots me a seductive glance through her watery eyes. “Okay, I know you’re ready?”

“Are you going to stay in the room with us?” she softly asks.

“What do you think?”

I never thought it would be this hard. We have planned this day for months now. Why am I so nervous. In just a few hours it will be over with and our family will be complete: Nikki, our child, and me. Our child. Two women raising one son. I hope it’s a boy. I never wanted anything so much than for Nikki to bear our own son. Steve, he’s cool.  I’ve known him for a few years now and he has always been supportive of our lifestyle. So when we took him to dinner three months ago and propositioned him to father our child he was absolutely thrilled for us to have chosen him.

I remember poking my head into his office right before lunch and asking him if he wanted to grab a bite after work. There was something I wanted to talk to him about. At dinner I saw the two of them together, Nikki’s coffee colored skin with his bright eyes.  Nikki was too embarrassed to speak, so she just fumbled with her thumbs. I knew by the drips of sweat that ran down the side of her face that we needed to just come out and ask, so I did.

“Steve, we need to talk to you about something.” I took a breath and he gestured for me to continue.  “You know that I love Nikki and she loves me, and when people are in love they want to start preparing for certain things.”

He straightens his posture and leaned forward, “what are you preparing for?”

“A family,” I replied.

He leaned back with a smile, “a family, well I’ll be… You know you have my blessing. Have you set a date yet? I say you should have it in Hawaii. And if you’re trying to butter me up to get some time off work for a honeymoon, the answer is yes. My gift to you.” He tilted his head slightly as if taking off his hat to us. Nikki looked up from twirling her thumbs and just blurted it right out.

“No, no silly, we want you to father our child.”

You can just imagine the look on his face when those words came out. It was a tuff ditch to crawl out of. The way she just blurted it out, like she knew he would say yes and he did.

What drew me to him were his features: tall, athletic, dark, and smart, really smart. I worked for his accounting firm for three years before I began to look at him differently.  The doctor that we all went through to plan this said that even he couldn’t have picked a better donor. Nikki could have been artificially inseminated, but the cost wasn’t an option for us.  It was too expensive of a procedure not to know who the father would be or at least some of his tendency, his character traits. Steve wasn’t interested in being called daddy or our son being introduced to his family and that’s why he was perfect. I thought and Nikki agreed.

Now we’re here and I can’t help but think twice about everything. It’s something that we can’t turn away from after it’s done. What if she likes it? Him inside her creating life. What if the bond they create in an hour’s time grows stronger than our bond over the last four years.

Nikki senses my reflection and says, “Lisa Sweetie, let’s just do what’s comfortable. We’ve planned so much already, and I… I’m kinda nervous.” Her tears fall quietly like tippy toes into the bath water, splattering softly, sending small waves rippling throughout the bathtub. Her dark hair flows smoothly down her back. I am as thin as a thirteen-year-old boy, but she makes me stronger. Our life together helps me to stay strong for our future family. I walk over to Nikki waiting in the tub and kneel down to her in prayer form.

As she steps out of the small tub, puddles of water leave unified trails behind. She puts on her terry cloth robe with the Hilton logo resting on her breast, and I take her hand in my sweaty palms and I lead her towards the queen size bed.

“I don’t know what’s taking him so long,” I say as I sit down on the hard burgundy carpet. “What do you want to eat tonight?” I ask.

“I don’t know maybe Chinese,” she glances down at her apparel. “Should I put on some clothes or am I okay with this?” She’s holds on to the rim of the robe.

“Keep that on. You’re gonna have to take your clothes off anyway.”

“Don’t say it like that. I mean this might be more natural, not natural, umm… comfortable, with my clothes on first,” Nikki speaks, but watches her words carefully.

“Well put your clothes on then.” I lean forward so that she can get up. The phone rings, our eyes connect, and she answers, “Hello.”

She slouches comfortably, “We’re in room 319,” she says.

He says something to make her laugh. God I wish I could make her laugh, but I’m so nervous.

“Well are you going to put on some clothes?” For some reason I want her clothes on now. I don’t want him to see her in her nude glory. He may get addicted to the view. I know I did.

I open the door for him and he comes in with a paper bag in hand. We stand in the doorway for a moment and I examine his features one last time. He stares back and I see myself in his eyes. I see my son.

“What’s in the bag?” I ask.

“Oh, just a bottle of Merlot.”

Merlot? What was he doing? This isn’t a date. Why is he bringing date drinks? He felt my concern and says, “It’s for you, I know this is a big day for you two, maybe a glass?”

Why am I questioning him? He’s a good guy, so thoughtful. It isn’t him that I question; it is the thing between his legs that makes me apprehensive. I don’t have one, he does, and we need it. I whisper thanks and walk him fully into the room. Nikki and Steve say their hellos while I pour the drinks. Steve makes a toast, “To my wonderful friends and their new addition. Cheers.” We sip the dark drink in silence.

***

Darkness, that’s what I’ll do. Turn off the lights! If I close the curtain tightly the room will be midnight black and he won’t be able to see her body. Nikki closes her eyes as she sips her drink. She rolls her shoulders back and breaths out in a hum. I know that routine. It’s her way of getting in the mood. Nikki drops her robe to the floor as if she has done this before and sits on the bed. I rush over to the curtains and shut them with force. The room is dim now, not dark and there was nothing I could do about it. In faint light is where everyone is beautiful.

***

Words flow through sound like feathers in the wind. The bed creaks the old screech of a moving mattress and she calls for me

“Lisa, baby, are you with me?”

Justified infidelity. He’s inside of her like an organ or a missing puzzle piece. His sweat rains down onto Nikki uniting with hers, forming a small puddle of lust. Or is it love? Or is it life? He breathes heavy like a track runner nearing the end of a race. How long will this last? He brushes the side of her cheek as she always likes. There’s a secure cry of satisfaction. Did I do that? Is it my touch? I wish there was a handbook to falsify my insecurities. I shouldn’t be here. This isn’t for me. If I zone out will this all become a blur?

I look up to the extension of his shadow as it hovers over Nikki and I see my son. I think we’ll name him Stan. Startling me out of my daydream Nikki belts out, “OH MY GOD!! Steve!! LISA!! MY GOD.”

Steve’s name. God’s name. My name. He’s hurting her. I need to save her. Up and down like a see-saw. He’s going to break her if he doesn’t stop. The room boils and so does my soul.

“Stop,” I scream and on cue my commands are obeyed. The room instantly sings a silent hum. They both stare straight at me standing nervously at the edge of the bed. “Nikki baby, he’s hurting you!” Slowly repeating myself as I inch around the bed to her side, “he’s hurting you?” If I say it enough times then maybe she’ll believe it. Stating it as a fact I say, “He’s hurting you.”

Steve rolls over from his mounted position and says, “I should’ve been gentler,” he looks past Nikki over to me like a sinner asking a priest for forgiveness. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“Give us a minute.” I take Nikki’s hand and my Virgin Mary arises, walking abruptly to the bathroom. I walk behind her shooting Steve a disapproving glance.

Now we are in our temporary meeting room. She hops her bare body unto the marble counter top and I lean on the door. What is she thinking? She has this disappointed glare as if I just kidnapped her from a euphoric wonderland.

“How do you feel?” I ask.

“How do you feel?” she repeats the question.

“Nikki let’s try it another time. It’s too much going on now.”

She looks away, “Whatever you want babe. Okay this might not have been a good idea,” she says.

Did she like it? I just know she did. She won’t look me in the eyes. I should ask her. No. Okay I will. “So how did it feel? Was he hurting you?”

“No, it was okay, I guess just different.  It was…um, I don’t know, just different.”

“Different good or different bad?” I ask.

“Come here,” she says extending her bare arms to me. She places my head on her breast, in practice for the mother she should be. “Lisa, baby, you have nothing to worry about. We’ll try another way,” she then kisses me on the forehead.

Nikki stays in the bathroom. I walk down the short hallway to the queen size bed and see Steve sitting on the edge of the bed cradling his head in his hands. He senses my presence and looks up. Steve’s chubby cheeks weigh his usual smile down into a frown that catches me off guard.

He immediately says, “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“I know you didn’t, but ya gotta be gentle.” Then I whisper softly, “She was a virgin, ya know. So it’s a little different.” I pat him on the back and sit down next to him. “Thanks for everything. Really. I mean it. We’re going to talk and see what we should do.” He pulls up his pants unaware that he’s the only one in the room nude and I realize how funny he looks without clothes. I feel sorry for the guy. I feel sorry for me so I giggle to him, “I tried to tell Nikki that if she can’t handle a dick then I’m sure child birth will be hell.” He smiles confidently, taking it as a compliment, and heads for the door.

Written by Nicole Murray

Nightlife, shallow seduction, racing hearts and beer breath. This night, that night, they’re all the same. The following day reveals headaches and hangover pains that claim your afternoons and ties you to either the bed or bathroom with no respect for what you previously had planned for that segment of your day. It’s only a matter of time before you’re tired of seeing the same faces, mascara dripping vampire-like down strange women’s cheeks. Mixed drinks and empty promises. The proper recipe for heartbreak conceived out of dinner dates and one night stands. You both want more out of life but to afraid to grasp it so you settle, settle for the night life, the easy way. You then mature only to realize that this is no place to find love. But by that time it’s too late. You missed out on your true golden years, the legacy building block years. Now the girls dominating the nightclubs are just that, girl, with nothing to offer, they’re still looking to land a superstar as their claim to fame and all the good girls are married now with kids living the life you wish you had. So you go home with them, the girls, only to wake up next to a stranger and realize that you’re absolutely lonely. And you’re now destine to wait until 40 plus when some of the good ones divorce and the sea of quality women opens up once again. But by then they’re tainted, baggage burdened with kids and ex husbands whom neither cares for, nor respects the likes of you or your nonchalant take on reality.

Night life, productivity’s secret enemy.

***

I’ve lived my life at night. Streaming through dinners, song and dance. From red eye flights to bar crawls I come alive. The darkness outdoors ignites my womb and I am born again. I’ve lived the best days of my life under the pale gray skies. Roaming the streets like a vulture I’ve lived but that was than, before kids, I’m more tanned now I’d say. Early morning walks to school, Saturday play dates and sun beams that grace my complexion.

Written by Nicole Murray

Photography by OzImages

She falls soft and wet like liquid streams and when she touches you, you shiver. She comes down at night, noon or dawn. She has no respect for time or social class, she’s distinguished by region, but everyone’s eventually her victim. You see her during the peak of the cheerful season, she watches you while you attempt to live up to your New Year’s Resolutions and she silently laughs. You once loved her but now her snow-flaked kisses have turned into ice and your blood boils no longer. So you hibernate, you stay inside as if your home is your harvest and you do not venture out. She has turned your bones into frozen stones, your eager ambition for out-door excursions have faded and you are now afraid of her.

Her name is frozen. We have slipped on her, fell on her and every year we gain ten pounds just to stay away from her. Your once anticipated pillar of seasonal change has turned into black ice, she will never compare to her three siblings. Summer, Spring and Fall.

Mother Nature’s Frozen Child

Written by Nicole Murray

Photography by OzImages

She looks up and sees him there, casually leading against the wall. She doesn’t think, she feels, so she does. Her body hums a tune that only he’s able to hear and he follows her there. That place of momentary passion, forgotten vows and lustful indulgence. The place where logic isn’t allowed, where families are fractured and realities shattered. They come back from that place feeling, feelings of morphine pleasure but that same scent, that tune, which hummed for him, hums at home and now the fragmented half is left to mold together the pieces of their salute flutes out of cracked glass. Stranded to restructure the dignity of their dynasty out of broken vows.

Temptation, Satan’s detour from your destiny. It preys on weakness, lonely moments and solemn realities. It sells you a dream so that it can live a fantasy

You choose your sins, as well as your destiny, so choose wisely. Only the Strong Survive.

Written by Nicole Murray

She sits and stares at these four walls and realizes she has six more hours to go before she can punch out. Six more hours before her daily tribute to someone else’s empire ends. She thinks for a few moments, than she begins to work, she stops and thinks again. This cycle, this in-between work fantasy gives her a peep-hole’s glimpse at her ideal future. A life of dreams pursued, of un-procrastinated stride towards everything she ever thought she could be. An antique boutique owner, Senator, Astronaut or film writer. She stops and thinks, she contemplates leaving and living her dreams, Tempting, but her fears of failure and bi-monthly paycheck keeps her there. She begins to work again.

Written by Nicole Murray

Photography by OzImages

We live in a world of scared leaders, sacrificed faith and blind dreams. We live in a new millennium where goals are stagnant and pessimistic realities are cameo throughout the daily news, we live today. As frighten fantasies keeps us glued to our stable stance, a glimpse of tomorrow’s wings arise. Our passions begin to stir somewhere after the darkest night and a still morning. Somewhere between the pit of our belly, our root, and our heart chakra.  Somewhere in this moment we take Flight.

Written by Nicole Murray

Photography by OzImages

The sun goes down by 4 p.m. and does not reappear until the next morning. Street, holiday, and hallway lights remain on to illuminate the sidewalks and dark corners of your home. Researchers say that Vitamin D, the sunshine vitamin, is needed during this season. It is said that sunlight activate hormones in your brain which trigger a sense of euphoria.

But I don’t rely on the sun for my happiness. My happiness is a choice not a destination, or a vitamin. My happiness lies in every deep breath I take that brings oxygen to my organs. It lies in my husband’s smile and morning kisses, my parent’s ceaseless love and my sisters “sunshine song.”

Written by Nicole Murray

Photography by OzImages

I was an adult the first time I can remember taking public transportation. Too old to appreciate it and too impatient to wait.

A public portal of germs and private thoughts.

Everything cold. Grays, blacks and greens. The sound of nature never enters public places. No birds chirping or pastel colors. You arrive, sometimes late with an occasional scent of dried dust and molded leather. A place where a man with a grammar school education and a man with a PhD will scramble for the same amount of change or transit card before admitted and sit across from one another with equal impatience. The only place that harbors the moment of the collective now, with an individual plea for the next moments. Where historical boycott unfold and racism is slightly diminish. Where elders are given a last glimpse of respect, assigned seating and reduced fares.

Blank stars headed somewhere I’ll never know. The everyday man’s sanctuary.

Written by Nicole Murray

Photography by OzImages