Category: Writing Stuff

Ready for this week’s prompt?

Until the end of the conversation, I didn’t even realize who he was.

Want to play along? Check out Romantic Encounters. 😀

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The buzzer echoed throughout the gymnasium. Jamie shifted her weight from foot-to-foot and kept an eye on her coach. She was anxious to get back onto the court and help her teammates out.

“Sit down, Jamie,” the assistant coach said and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You need to rest that ankle a bit before you can get back out there.”

“I’m fine,” she said through clenched teeth and shot an anxious look up at the scoreboard. “And we’re behind. Put me back out there, coach. I can get us some points.”

“No way. You’re out until the second half. The doctor doesn’t like the look of that swelling. Sit down and take some weight off of it. Better yet, put an ice pack on it.” She nodded to one of the student go girls. “I’m serious, Jamie. We could really use you out there in the second half, but if that swelling doesn’t go down, forget about it.”

Jamie huffed in irritation and plopped down into a nearby chair. She crossed her arms and scowled with disappointment.

“Here you go, Jamie,” Tina said and gently placed an ice pack on her left ankle.

She grunted. She didn’t really mean to be rude, but she was just so disappointed – she really wanted to get back out there. Her new boyfriend was in the crowd watching somewhere and she wanted to impress him. Instead, she was stuck on the sidelines.

“This blows,” she muttered.

“Yeah. Doesn’t it?” A man’s voice sounded behind her and she twisted around to get a look. She didn’t recognize him. Even though he was sitting, he looked tall. He was rather rigid and he looked uncomfortable.

She lifted a brow at him.

“Uh, yeah.” She didn’t know what else to say and turned back to watch the game. They were down eight points. She balled her hands into fists. This was the last game of the season her senior year. She really wanted to wrap up the year with a big win.

“So, what happened to your ankle?” The man behind her asked.

She narrowed her eyes. She was really in no mood to chit-chat. But because her mother brought her up to be respectful, she took a breath, slowly counted to five, then turned around to answer him.

“I twisted it about two minutes into the game.”

“On that lay up?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. Number 32 bumped into me as I was going up and I came down the wrong way.” She shrugged. “It really doesn’t hurt. I’ve had worse.”

“Man, that really sucks.”

She nodded, her mouth set into a grim line.

“It’s not the same without the star athletic out there.”

She lifted a brow, then eased into an embarrassed smile. “I’m not the star athlete,” she sputtered out.

“I beg to differ. I’ve watched enough games this season. Plus, your stats are impressive. Are you going on to play college ball?”

She took another breath before shrugging. “I’d like to, but I haven’t heard from any scouts yet. I was hoping …” she paused, then straightened her shoulders, her voice determined. “If I don’t get recruited, I’ll figure something out.”

“I hear there’s a scout tonight,” the man said, his eyes roaming over the bleachers on the other side of the court.

She followed his gaze, her eyes skimming over the faces of the people, their features indistinguishable from that distance. “Yeah. I heard that, too.”

“This could be your last chance.”

She turned back around to face him. “Dude. You’re not helping.”

He laughed and put his hands up to indicate a silent truce. “Sorry.”

She could feel a bubble of irritation building at the base of her stomach. She turned away from the man so she wouldn’t say something she regretted and gave her ankle a gentle twist to test for pain. There was a slight twinge, but overall, it felt pretty good. She forced herself to relax. They had three minutes before halftime. She would lie down on one of the benches in the locker room for most of the fifteen minutes they had until the second half and that should do the trick. She would do her best to baby her ankle for the next 20 minutes, but whatever happened, she was going back out onto that court after halftime.

“So, is your mom here?”

Jamie blinked. What was this guy’s problem? Was he some sort of perv? Was he stalking her? She turned around and shot him a dirty look.

“Of course. My mom comes to every game.”

“I see. And your dad?”

She exhaled her irritation. “Dude. What is your problem? Stop asking me personal questions!”

“Sorry.” He looked at over the crowd once again. Jamie watched him cautiously. “So, is your mom close by? Can you see her from where we’re sitting?”

Jamie’s mouth dropped. He was seriously crossing a boundary here. “What the hell? Are you a stalker or something? Why are you bugging me?”

“Look. I’m sorry,” he said and leaned toward her so the girls on either side of her wouldn’t hear. She backed away from him as his face got closer. “Just tell me, did your mother remarry? I know this is a weird question coming from a stranger and all, but I … need to know.”

“I’m not telling you anything. And if you continue to talk to me, I’m telling the coach you’re bothering me.”

He raised his hands again in a sign of surrender. “Again. Sorry.”

The buzzer sounded to indicate the second quarter was over. Jamie felt instant relief. This guy was really making her uncomfortable.

Two of her teammates helped her off the court and toward the locker room. She probably could have walked on her own, but she didn’t want to take a chance on aggravating her injury any more than she needed to.

When she got into the locker room, she gingerly laid down on a bench. She bent both knees and rested her left leg on top of her right leg. She thought if she elevated it a bit, that would help.

“Are you okay?” Her mom threaded her way through the other girls toward her.

“Fine,” she snapped and then sighed. It wasn’t her mom’s fault this had happened. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths to try and calm herself down. In addition to the whole ankle drama, she couldn’t shake off the weird man who had been talking to her. There was something odd about him.

“I saw you were talking to the scout,” her coach said.

Jamie’s eyes flew open. “What??”

“The man sitting behind you. He’s a scout for Columbia. You didn’t know?”

“Uh, no,” Jamie said and slowly sat up.

“We’ll talk later,” coach said and gave her a wink.

“Scout?” Jamie repeated and gave her mom a grief-stricken look.

“Scout?” her mom repeated. “Well. He went into sports after all.”

Jamie felt sick to her stomach. She had been so rude to the man! But why had he asked her all those questions about her mom? It didn’t make sense. She rubbed her forehead in confusion a few seconds before her mom’s words sunk in.

“What? You know that guy?”

Her mom’s face colored. She crossed her arms and took a sudden interest in her shoes.

“Mom? What’s going on?”

“This is not the time to talk about this. You still have the second half to get through.”

“Whatever. You know me. There is no way I can concentrate if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Her mom sat down next to her. “Promise you won’t be mad?”

Jamie cocked a brow. “Mom,” she said, her tone laced with warning.

She sighed and placed an arm around her. “I’m sorry. I had no intention of bringing this up now, but …” she sighed again. “I had no idea he would show up tonight. Though now that I know that he’s a scout, that sort of makes sense.”

“Who IS that man?”

“Jamie. Sweetie.” She gave her a gentle, loving smile. “That man is your father.”

Ready for this week’s prompt?

You inadvertently run an important paper through the shredder.

Want to play along? Check out Romantic Encounters. 😀

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“I came over as soon as I could. How is she?” Donna threw her bag onto a nearby chair; her eyes remained focused on the teenage girl in front of her.

“She’s … out of it,” the girl said, her dark blue lipstick shimmering in the late afternoon sunlight. “She’s depressed. She’s shocked. She’s pissed,” she suddenly poked herself in the chest. “I’M pissed. What the hell was he thinking?”

Donna had known the girl her entire life. She could see the hurt lurking behind the brave mask. She put an arm around the girl’s bony shoulders and held on tight even when the girl tried to initially throw her support off. After several long, tense moments, the girl broke down and began to cry, burying her head into Donna’s shoulder.

“I’m going to have makeup all over my blouse,” Donna absently thought as she stroked the girl’s blue-streaked hair. She continued to hold the girl for several minutes as she cried out her emotions.

Betrayal was never easy to deal with, let alone when you were a 16-year old girl.

“I’m sorry,” the girl said, her voice muffled by Donna’s blouse.

“Don’t be. You’re justified.”

She sniffed. “I need a tissue.” She pulled back and went over to an end table to snag a tissue from the box decorated with hearts all over it.

Donna suddenly had the urge to rip that box into several tiny pieces.

The girl blew her nose then spat out a bitter laugh. “This is the worst Valentine’s Day in history. Love SUCKS!”

Donna gave her a few minutes to compose herself before quietly asking, “Where is she, Alexandria.”

She shrugged a shoulder toward the back of the house. “In the office. But I warn you, she won’t come out. I’ve been trying to get her to open the door for the last hour and …nothing.”

“What is she doing in there?”

“I don’t know. I heard some crashes earlier. I thought maybe she hurt herself. But when I pounded on the door and demanded an answer, she just said to leave her alone – she needed time to regroup, or some shit like that.” Alexandria wrapped the soggy tissue around her nose again and gave a noisy honk.

“Right. Tell you what. Why don’t you make some coffee, or maybe some sandwiches –“

“None of us are hungry, Aunt Donna.”

“I know that, sweetie. But just do it, okay? I’m going to try and get her to open the door.”

Alexandria snorted. “Yeah. Good luck with that.” She stomped into the kitchen, her combat boots heavy enough to vibrate the floor.

She took a moment to gulp in some fresh air before heading down the hallway. She passed several family portraits – Mary had always made sure they had had their pictures taken every year, without fail, even when Alexandria had vehemently protested – when she stopped in front of the door leading to the office.

She lifted a hand and rapped her knuckles sharply against the door. She paused to listen. All she could hear was the steady hum of some machine.

“Go away, Alex. I don’t want to talk right now,” her sister’s voice ground out. She could tell by the tone that she still had a tight rein on her anger.

“It’s Donna, Mary. Let me in.”

She wasn’t sure what she had expected. Mary wasn’t exactly an open book. She had always been a bit unpredictable, even growing up, so she wasn’t sure that she would even talk to her in the first place, but she jumped when the door suddenly flung open and Mary reached a hand out to drag Donna quickly inside the room.

“Hey!” Alexandria’s voice could be heard coming down the hallway. “No fair! I want to come in, too!”

“Later, honey! I need to talk to Aunt Donna first,” Mary slammed the door and then turned her tear-streaked face toward her sister. “That low-lying piece of pond scum,” she hissed. “Can you BELIEVE he would do something like this to me?”

Donna blinked at the mess in the office. Her sister was rather anal about keeping things tidy. In fact, she remembered trying to convince their mother that she was OCD when they were little and that she had needed help, her obsession for order was so outrageous growing up. But the otherwise spotless office was in complete disarray. Papers were everywhere. The cushion on the office chair had been ripped and fluffy, white stuffing peeked through the jagged leather edges. The fax machine had been pulled off the table and was lying in pieces on the floor. The curtains had been shredded and several pictures had been ripped off the walls, the glass cracked, but not broken, like she had stomped on the faces of her loved ones.

A cold chill suddenly went up her spine at the sheer destruction around them. She had never seen her sister this upset before.

Continue reading “Romantic Encounter: The Wrong Conclusion” →

Ready for this week’s prompt?

Your favorite pet jumps up onto the sofa next to you and says—with a rather distinguished accent—”We need to talk.”

So yeah. I started a fiction meme. You can find the prompts at Romantic Encounters. You have one week to write your story before the next prompt appears. There MAY be a prize for the writer who contributes the most within a certain time period. *wink-wink-nudge-nudge* I like being vague.

In the meantime, here is my story. Yo.

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Carly watched her cat, Marlin, delicately sniff at his dinner before swishing his tail back and forth in satisfaction. He turned away from the meal, as if to say, “You’re simply not good enough for me to consume” before casting her a sidelong glance of approval.

She could hear his deep-throated purr of pure pleasure from her position at the kitchen table.

It was only 6:30 in the evening, but it was so pitch black outside that all she could see was her reflection in the window. She lifted her mug of chicken broth and took a cautious sip of the piping hot brew.

She idly watched the white dots of snow hit her window and explode into tiny shards of delicate ice crystals before gently sliding down and out of sight. It was a beautiful, peaceful winter night – she only wished she had someone to share it with.

She exhaled a long, depressed sigh and lifted her mug to take another sip.

A gray and white blob of fur jumped onto the table next to her. She jumped in surprise, spilling a bit of the broth onto her housecoat.

“What the …” Her eyes slid up from the stain and settled onto her cat. “Marlin, what in the world are you doing up here? You know you’re not supposed …”

“We need to talk,” the cat purred out, his voice soft and smooth, like each movement of his body as he crept up on prey.

Carly blinked, opened her mouth and then blinked again. “Did you just talk?”

The cat hung his head and sighed. “Humans are so slow sometimes.” He looked back up at her, the dark black slits in his amber eyes dilated slightly from his agitation. “I need your advice.”

“My …” she swallowed, blinked several more times before continuing. “Advice?”

Marlin’s eyes narrowed until they were nothing more than small, horizontal lines in his face. “Try and keep up, won’t you?”

“Try and –“ she began before Marlin hissed at her. She blinked, cleared her throat and forced her brain to focus … on her talking cat.

Her cat was talking to her!

“Sorry.” She murmured. “What’s the problem?” She felt like laughing. Here she was, having a real-live conversation with her cat. She bit back a smile. This was the most fun she’d had in quite some time. Who cared if it was crazy?

She just hoped no one happened to look in her window and saw her talking to her cat, especially the cute carpenter that lived in the house behind her.

“I’m having feline problems.”

“Oh?” She tried not to act too surprised. She didn’t really know what to expect for her cat to ask her, but somehow, it wasn’t about cat relationships. “I’m assuming we’re talking about a female cat here?”

“Well yes, of course!” The cat hissed at her again and she put up a hand in defense.

“Hey. I don’t judge.”

The cat lifted a paw and waved an exasperated swipe at her.

“Focus,” he said, “we don’t have much time.”

“Why don’t we have much time?”

“Because the feline in question comes out to prowl at exactly,” he glanced over his shoulder to look at the clock. “Precisely 30 minutes.”

“You can tell time?” she blinked again and this time, she allowed a small chuckle to escape her lips.

“So, I like guy cats and I can’t tell time – you think I’m a gay idiot, don’t you.”

“What? NO!” she said. Small spots of red appeared on her cheeks. “It’s just that …”

“No worries,” Marlin said. “Here’s my question – how do I impress her?”

“Impress her?” She really didn’t mean to repeat everything her cat said to her, but she was having a hard time accepting the fact that she was having a conversation with her pet.

Marlin’s ears went back – a clear sign he was annoyed.

“Sorry, sorry. Impress her.” She thought a moment. “It’s not like you can give her flowers or anything.” She thoughtfully tapped on her finger and Marlin suddenly bristled.

“Right! A gift! I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. Where’s that mouse fill with cat nip that you let me chew on once in a while?”

“You’re going to re-gift her something? Don’t you think that’s rather tacky?”

“Hey, it’s not like I have many resources here.”

“True. Sorry again. Okay fine, I think you pushed it under the stove, that last time I saw it. Can you reach it or do you need me to grab a –“

“Nope. I can get it. And hey, thanks for the advice.”

She laughed. “I can’t believe you asked me for relationship advice. It’s not like I’ve had any sort of relationship to speak of in the past 14 months or so.”

“Right. You really should do something about that.” Marlin jumped off the table and knocked his water dish over.

She jumped again and found herself still staring at the window. The snow was falling harder now and she could see a fine layer of it covering the banister of her back porch.

She blinked in confusion.

“Wait. What just happened?”

She looked down at Marlin, who had consumed all of his dinner and was now busy licking his paws in lingering satisfaction.

“We … didn’t just have a conversation, did we?” She addressed the cat.

Marlin meowed in response before turning away from her and exiting the kitchen.

She sighed. “I need to get a life.”