Category: Prompt Fiction

Prompt Fiction

Thursday Thread: The Problem is Not Mine

Karen

Thursday Thread
Thursday is the day I post a bit o’ fiction.

If you would like to play along, please write your version of the below prompt and post your link in the Mr. Linky. Anything goes – whatever inspires you. Me? I like to write about relationships, fictional or otherwise. 🙂

Write fast and furious – don’t edit – don’t think, just do.

This week’s prompt: This PostSecret.

The Problem is Not Mine

Janice studied her three children across the picnic table.

Brian, her youngest, smiled at her around a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She reached across and gently swiped a dollop of jelly goo from the corner of his mouth. He muttered a response and Janice could only assume it was a thank you.

Ashley delicately nibbled on her sandwich before placing it back onto her plate. Her middle child worried her. She was an old soul and entirely too serious for her age. She couldn’t remember the last time she had actually smiled. Where was the happy, carefree little girl who had talked too much? She missed the easy grins and ready giggles. Now, she was lucky if she received any acknowledgement at all.

But she had no one to blame but herself.

“Ashley,” she began, her voice as soft as a long-haired kitten, “please eat. We’ve got a long road ahead and I’m not sure when we’ll get a chance to eat again.”

Ashley’s dark gray eyes lifted to meet her mother’s. They were filled with anger, yet tinged with sadness.

Janice sighed and turned to her oldest daughter, Chloe.

“Has she not been eating? When is the last time she had anything healthy? She’s a walking pile of bones …” Janice wrung her hands and glanced over her shoulder at the sound of crunching gravel.

Was that a car that just pulled up? She tried to peer through the thick branches of the trees that surrounded their picnic table, but she couldn’t see anything.

“Looking for the cops?” Chloe smirked.

Janice’s spine stiffened and she forced a bright smile. “Why would I be doing that?”

“Because we’re not supposed to be here,” Chloe nearly shouted. “Because YOU’RE not supposed to be here, mom.”

“Now Chloe,” Janice began and again glanced over her shoulder. Was that a male voice? She began to gather up their make-shift picnic. She didn’t want to alarm the children, but they needed to leave.

Now.

“Do you think we’re stupid, mom?”

Janice paused, a crumpled piece of plastic wrap clutched in her hand. She stared at her 15-year old daughter, then blinked. “Hardly,” she responded dryly.

“We know what’s going on.”

Ashley nodded and Brian suddenly became very still and his eyes grew round as his unwavering stare fixed on her face.

A slow flush crept up Janice’s neck and she suddenly felt hot, very hot, as if the very depth of her soul was on fire.

She cleared her throat. “Chloe, please don’t be dramatic. We’re just out having a nice picnic …”

Chloe sputtered a bitter laugh. “Are you for real? Mom,” she reached out and put a hand on her arm causing her to still in her attempts to clean up. “We know you have a problem.”

“Problem? Me?” She choked out a laugh and finished cramming the rest of their meager lunch into the paper bags. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You get us out of school early, then bring us to this isolated park,” Chloe began. “Don’t you think that’s a little weird?”

“No,” she whispered and then in a stronger voice. “No. I wanted to be with my children.”

“Then maybe you should have thought of that before screwing up your life.”

Janice gasped and abruptly sat back down on the hard, weathered seat. “What are you talking about?”

Chloe sighed and her shoulders slumped. She suddenly looked like an old woman. “Dad told us what was going on, mom. We know about your alcohol problem.”

All four were silent for long moments and Janice struggled to regain her composure before trying to explain. She opened her mouth to offer her excuses, the excuses she had spent just that morning practicing in the mirror when Brian interrupted.

“Do you love alcohol more than us, mom?” he asked in the smallest voice possible.

Janice moaned and a hot, searing pain traveled up her esophagus. “Oh God sweetie, no.”

“Then what are you doing?” Ashley screamed and swung her legs over the picnic seat. “Do you KNOW how worried we’ve been about you? Dad told us what was happening but he didn’t tell us WHY you’re doing this! To us?” She gestured to her siblings. “What is WRONG with you?”

“I .. I made a mistake,” Janice stammered. “I got depressed and I had a bit too much to drink, but I have it under control now–”

“You’re unbelievable,” Chloe spat. “Even now, after all you’ve put our family through for the last three months, you STILL can’t admit that you have a problem.”

“I DON’T have a problem,” Janice said through clenched teeth. “Your father is trying …”

“Dad is not doing anything. HE’S still at home. HE’S the one making our dinners every night and making sure we’re going to school every morning.” Tears began streaming down Ashley’s face and Chloe stood up and went to her.

Brian sniffled and ran the back of his hand across his nose. Janice began searching for a napkin to wipe his tears when she heard a voice – a male voice.

As if the voice electrocuted her, she suddenly stood up and reached for Brian. “We have to go,” she said, struggling to keep the panic out of her voice.

“No mom,” said Chloe. “You do. You need help.”

“She’s right,” a man said as he stepped into the clearing.

“Who are you?” Janice said and moved to stand behind her children.

“I’m with the Sheriff’s department, Mrs. Powell. I’m afraid you’re all going to have to come with me.”

“What?” Janice gave a nervous laugh. “We’re just having a picnic. You have no right,” she began.

Chloe interrupted her. “I called them, mom, when I went to the bathroom at the gas station. Dad gave me this cell phone,” she held out a tiny, pink phone, “last week. He said you might try this.”

“Try what?” Janice said while giving the police officer a look as if to say, “kids! What are you going to do?”

“To take your children, Mrs. Powell. There’s a restraining order against you, ma’am.”

Brian blinked and moved closer to his sisters. His big brown eyes glistened with moisture. “Mommy?”

“Oh, it’s okay, sweetie. Everything’s fine.” She tried reaching out for her son, but he shrunk away from her touch.

“If you’ll come with me, Mrs. Powell,” another officer stepped forward and Janice suddenly felt the urge to laugh. Where had he come from?

Janice watched as the first officer guided her children back through the woods. She craned her neck to catch one last glimpse of them before the foliage swallowed them whole.

“Those are my children,” she told the officer weakly. “I love them.”

“I’m sure you do, Mrs. Powell,” he said while pulling out his handcuffs. He gently grasped one of her wrists. His hands felt cold and hard. “You’re under arrest, Mrs. Powell. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

Janice tuned the rest of her Miranda rights out and blinked back her tears. She didn’t have a problem. The problem was with her husband and his suspicions. She simply wanted to see her children. She hadn’t seen them for weeks. Why was that such a big deal?

The officer gave her a tender push to coax her into walking in the opposite direction from her children.

“They were worth it,” she said over her shoulder. “They were worth every mile.”
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Prompt Fiction

Thursday Thread: A Matter of Time

Karen

Thursday Thread
Thursday is the day I post a bit o’ fiction.

If you would like to play along, please write your version of the below prompt and post your link in the Mr. Linky. Anything goes – whatever inspires you. Me? I like to write about relationships, fictional or otherwise. 🙂

Write fast and furious – don’t edit – don’t think, just do.

This week’s prompt: “Your mother is the deal breaker.”

__________________________________

A Matter of Time

Marylyn:

“Well, it was nice to meet you, my dear. Thank you for coming over. I hope the chicken wasn’t too spicy?”

The 19-year old young woman politely shook Marylyn’s hand. The girl’s grip was weak, the palm of her hand slick with moisture. Marylyn carefully kept her expression neutral even though her instinct was to jerk her hand back and wipe it against her corduroy slacks.

“No, it was delicious. Thank you for having me over,” Kellie responded. Her smile was bright, if not a tad insincere.

“Any time, any time,” Marylyn quietly echoed before turning to her son. “Britt, it was so nice to see you. You need to come over more often.” She lightly kissed his cheek before pulling back. “You’re not eating enough; you’re way too thin.”

Britt chuckled and lightly rubbed his flat stomach. “I’m a poor college student, mom. What did you expect?”

His grin triggered Marylyn’s heart to twitch. How she missed having him around the house to fuss over.

“Well,” she fought to control her emotions and issued an enthusiastic smile. “You two take care. Drive safely.”

Britt shook his father’s hand and the couple smiled as they exited the house.

Marylyn and Dave watched their son and his girlfriend walk down the front steps. When they were nearly to Britt’s ’98 navy blue mustang, Marylyn muttered under her breath while keeping a tight smile pasted to her face in case the young people turned to look back at them.

“I despise her.”

Dave chuckled, though maintained his stoic expression. “You’d say that about anyone he brought home.”

Marylyn waited until the young couple had driven off and they had closed their door to respond.

“Probably,” she shrugged. “But seriously. A cheerleader?” She rolled her eyes. “That girl doesn’t have a brain in her head.”

Dave grinned while steering her back to the kitchen. “Let’s have a nightcap. I know I could use one.”

Marylyn continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Seriously. Obama?” She snorted. “She probably doesn’t even realize that that man has grandiose ideas of controlling our country. He thinks he’s the next Jesus Christ, for heaven’s sake!”

Dave gently pushed her into a chair at the kitchen table before moving to pour them each a small glass of sherry. “You can’t fault her on her political views.”

“Like hell I can’t,” she grumbled back. “And when I made that joke, about the … the …” she waved her hand around, her thoughts tumbling over one another in her agitation.

“The pharmacist?” Dave provided.

“Yes!” She raised a hand in gratitude before slapping it back on the table. “That was a funny joke. At the very least, it warranted a smile, not that … that …” she snorted, “look of utter confusion. I’m telling you, Britt could do a lot better.”

“She was nervous, Mary,” Dave said gently while placing her glass in front of her. “Give the girl a break.”

“Oh, I’ll break them all right,” Marylyn growled before taking a quick swallow of the drink. “If it’s the last thing I do.”

Marylyn raised her glass and issued a silent cheer to her husband before taking another swallow. Stupid girl, she thought. Kellie had no idea what she was capable of. She gave the relationship six months, tops.

Kellie:

“No, it was delicious. Thank you for having me over,” Kellie said, her tongue still stinging from the spicy chicken. Geez, could that woman PUT anymore cayenne pepper in that dish?

“Any time, any time,” Marylyn quietly echoed.

Kellie turned toward Britt’s father. Her plastic smile softened into genuine pleasure. “Thank you for having us over, sir.”

“Sir? Please, call me Dave. Sir makes me feel like I should bow or something.”

She released a soft laugh and shook his hand. She really liked Britt’s dad. He seemed like a genuine person, someone who didn’t judge people but who accepted them for what they were.

Unlike his mother.

She overhead Marylyn’s comment to Britt about him not eating enough and it took nearly all of her will power not to roll her eyes. Geez. The woman didn’t know her son at all. She had no idea how many weeks it had taken Britt to shed the extra 50 pounds he had gained while living at home with his parents. Marylyn had no idea how hard Kellie had to work at transforming her overweight, geeky son into a man who turned nearly every female’s head on campus.

She smirked inside. The woman was seriously clueless.

Britt gently took her arm and guided her out to his mustang.

“Well, I think that went pretty well,” he said while holding her door open for her.

Kellie folded her long, trim body into the car and waited for Britt to join her before responding.

“She’s a heartless Republican,” she ground out while lifting a hand to give a little wave to the older couple standing on the porch.

Britt laughed as he backed out of the driveway. “You can’t fault her on her political views. She is who she is.”

“She’d kick orphans out on the street!”

Britt frowned at her as he signaled to turn left at the corner. “Don’t say that. She’s not like that at all. She just thinks people need to take responsibility for their lives, that’s all.”

“But not everyone is as well off as she is. Some people truly need help. I can’t believe she’s going to vote for McCain. That man seriously scares me.”

Britt shrugged and Kellie squashed her irritation. His carefree attitude really got on her nerves sometimes. Where was his passion? His convictions?

She sighed and glanced out of the window. She mentally ran the dinner over in her mind. After several long, silent moments, she said, “And what was up with that stupid joke?”

Britt chuckled softly. “I thought it was funny.”

“I thought it was inappropriate.”

“She was just trying to make everyone laugh, to ease the tension.”

Kellie studied her boyfriend’s face in the passing street lights and decided it might be wise to back off criticizing his mother – for now.

She had thoroughly despised the woman on sight. From her carefully styled helmet hair and brash lipstick, down to her corduroy slacks and sensible loafers. Everything about the woman got on her nerves. She seemed cold and entirely too superior for her tastes.

Britt didn’t know it yet, but his mother was the deal breaker. If she couldn’t distance Britt from his mother, their relationship wouldn’t last.

She thoughtfully chewed her lip before changing tactics. She lightly placed her hand on Britt’s thigh and issued a sexy smile when he glanced over at her.

“Guess what I’m in the mood for,” she purred and Britt’s smile widened.

Kellie kept her hand on his leg and swallowed her self-satisfaction. It was just a matter of time before she turned Britt against his mother.

Marylyn had no idea who she was dealing with. She’d have her completely cut out of Britt’s life in six months, tops.

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Parenting, Prompt Fiction

Fiction: Severing the Friendship Ties

Karen

Thursday Thread
Thursday is the day I post a bit o’ fiction.

I will just tell you, right off the bat, that this story is based on real life. Stick around, I need your input at the end.

_______________________________

Severing the Friendship Ties

Matt clutched his paper lunch bag tighter between his fingers. He hated lunch, mainly because he never knew where to sit.

And it was the only time period in the day when he had to endure Lance.

Matt stepped behind a group of teenage girls and kept a few paces back from them as they entered the lunchroom. Maybe Lance wouldn’t find him today. Maybe he wouldn’t have to listen to Lance’s loud voice or put up with this immature attitude.

He lifted his head a bit to look over the girl’s shoulder in front of him. So far, so good. The girl, sensing him behind him, glanced back and gave him a disinterested once over.

Matt flashed a lop-sided grin and moved past the girls and toward a table at the edge of the lunchroom.

The noise was deafening. But even though it was loud in the lunchroom, it was nothing compared to Lance’s boisterous antics.

He gingerly sat down and opened his bag. He smiled. He loved the lunches his mom packed for him. They were always full of good stuff. He pulled out a crust-less peanut butter and jelly sandwich, Cheez-Its, a can of root beer and a baggie stuffed with mult-colored Twizzlers.

His favorite candy.

He popped the tab on his can and looked around. He didn’t really mind eating lunch by himself. It was a welcome relief from his day – it gave him a chance to unwind and de-stress a bit before he tackled his afternoon classes.

He released a long, soft sigh and ripped open his sandwich. His fingers dug into the spongy bread and his smile grew. He loved the frozen peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, especially when they were soft and gooey. He lifted the circular sandwich to his lips when he heard it.

Lance’s voice, calling out his name.

In the middle of the lunchroom.

People began to twitter in amusement and turned their heads trying to locate him.

Many found him. And to Matt’s utter horror, so did Sarah. The girl he had been in love with since 4th grade.

He sighed and slowly lowered his sandwich, his appetite dissipating into wispy smoke.

“Matt! Dude! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Matt didn’t answer.

“So, what’s up?”

Matt very calmly, and with precise movements, pulled out his book with one hand, and lifted his sandwich with the other.

He took a generous bite and was chewing quietly when it happened.

The temper tantrum.

“What the heck? Why are you ignoring me? What, I’m not GOOD enough for you?”

Matt tried to ignore the stares from his peers, but he knew they were looking – and laughing.

At him, most likely.

“I DON’T LIKE BEING IGNORED, MATT.” Lance crossed his arms and openly pouted.

Matt took a breath. He kept his eyes trained on his book and though he appeared outwardly calm, his heart was hammering so hard in his chest he felt light headed.

“You’re embarrassing me, Lance. I’ve already told you. I don’t want to hang out with you if you don’t learn to control yourself. I’m right here,” he glanced quickly at the boy, “you don’t have to yell.”

“WHO SAYS I’M YELLING?”

Matt just looked at him with raised eyebrows. He shook his head and went back to reading. The words wavered before his eyes and he had no idea what he was reading.

He never thought he would ever think this, let alone mean it, but he was actually looking forward to going back to class.

And away from Lance.

_______________________________

Matt? Is MK. Lance? Is MK’s “friend.” We’ll continue to call him Lance.

Let me explain …

We are now into the fourth day of the school year and MK is miserable. Not because of his teachers, his classes, or even his peers, but rather because of one lone boy – a boy he’s known since second grade.

This boy has always been loud (and in my opinion, obnoxious). And MK has always rolled with that loudness and seemed to like this boy and liked to hang out with him.

Until this year. Apparently, MK has done a bit of maturing over the summer and he no longer finds this boy quite so amusing. In fact, this boy is still stuck in grade school, apparently, because MK tells me that a lot of kids are now making fun of this boy and his loud voice and overly-dramatic gestures and attitude.

In fact, MK sort of thinks the boy acts feminine – if you catch my drift.

But that’s not even the real issue (though that makes him uncomfortable). The real issue is he’s not sure how to handle this. He’s tried talking to the boy, “Dude, you’re embarrassing me. Cut it out.” And the boy gets all bent out of shape, raises his voice and just causes a scene so that it’s just better to endure his behavior than try and confront him about it. (And yes, MK has tried to talk to him privately, but it still escalates into a problem, from what MK tells me).

MK’s other friends are too freaked out to be around Lance, so they avoid him, leaving MK holding the embarrassment. MK doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to hurt this boy’s feelings, he’s tried talking to him but Lance doesn’t seem to get the message.

MK is now thinking about emailing the boy – maybe Lance will actually LISTEN to what he has to say instead of making a scene and getting all defensive.

What would you advise your son to do if you were in my shoes?

EDIT: MK and his friend talked on the phone last night. He told the friend that he’s under a lot of stress this year with all of his music activities and he doesn’t have time to stress about his freinds’ behaviors. I was very impressed with how he handled himself – he was very mature and understanding, “I know you’re like that … I understand … but this is how I feel.”

I don’t know if anything was resolved but it was a very proud momma moment – we are really raising this kid right. It’ll be interesting to see how this kid handles the “truth.” Hey, if you don’t have honesty, then what do you have.

Prompt Fiction

Picture Fiction: Gemini

Karen

Still busy.

Still INSANELY busy. School starts Monday here and I’m up to my eyeballs posting updates and syllabi on the seven school websites I maintain. Well, actually, I maintain six but I’m uploading a new high school website today! (Ack! Pray it goes well!!)

And I’m finishing templates for a new school website as we speak. (By the way, if your school needs a website, I’m the woman for the job!! Contact me and let’s talk!) I’ll post links to “my” schools soon.

Anyhoo, I don’t have time to write new fiction this week, so I’ll post an oldie (and hopefully a goodie). This was originally published on my self-hosted blog January 11, 2006. It’s what I call “Picture Fiction” – where I take a Creative Commons picture from Flickr and write a short story around it. I should start doing this again – it’s really fun and challenging. *makes note to self*

Catch ya later!

________________________________

Thursday Thread
Thursday is the day I post a bit o’ fiction.

Taking a random photograph from Flickr and weaving a short story around it. It’s Picture Fiction!
null

Gemini

null

There was something wrong with me. I knew it. I felt it. There was a splitting of souls inside the dark, smelly place I called a heart, one good, the other, not so much. I never knew who was in control. The loving husband who doted on his three-year-old son; or the promiscuous thirty-eight year old man who disappeared for hours at a time after work only to collapse on his front stoop, drunk and reeking of urine?

Why can’t I control the blackness? Why do I find myself succumbing to its seductive allure more and more?

I hear Sharon’s cries. I see the confusion in little Anthony. I can smell their fear. I can hear her, I can see him, I can sense their apprehensions, and yet, I do not care. A cold, evil animal lurks deep in my gut and no amount of coaxing will persuade the beast to venture out of his cave and seek the warmth his family offers on a daily basis.

A part of me is scared and dying. It’s as if I’m in a boat, looking toward shore, and see the good part of me sadly waving goodbye. This goodness shrinks with each passing stroke of the oar while the evil monster inside grows in both size and strength hogging the vessel more and more.

I cannot stop it. It has consumed me. The animal has been released and no one dares capture it.

Prompt Fiction

Fiction: Sometimes, There Isn’t a Choice

Karen

Thursday Thread
Thursday is the day I post a bit o’ fiction.

This was based on the stranger than fiction headline: Man jailed when daughter fails to get diploma. If you’ve been reading me for any length of time, you had to know this would be the one I chose, right? 😀

____________________________

Sometimes, There Isn’t a Choice

“Dad, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m dropping you off at school,” was his overly sarcastic response.

Leyna released a long pent-up sigh and rolled her eyes. “Duh. I mean, why aren’t you dropping me off at the curb?”

“Because I can’t trust you not to go into the building.”

“What are you kidding me?” Leyna huffed and sank back into the truck seat. “I’m nearly 18. I can do what I want to do.”

“You can do what you want to after you graduate. Right now? I’m making sure you GET that diploma.”

“School SUCKS!” she yelled and chomped on her gum.

Earl’s shoulders slumped and he gave his daughter a wary, side-long glance. “Look Ley,” he began, “you only have six months to go. Six months and you’ll be free to do whatever you want to do. You can get your license …”

She shot him a hateful glance at bringing up that sore subject.

He continued, “You can move out. Get your own job, your own money, live your life however you want to but for right now, for the next six months at least, you have to go to school. And you HAVE to go to class. If you miss any more school, you’re not going to have the credits you need TO graduate. Don’t you understand that?”

“I’m not stupid, dad,” she said succinctly, the words oozing venom.

“That I’m quite sure of,” he answered back despondently.

“I wish mom were here.”

He ran a hand over his tired eyes and returned his gaze to the numerous cars moving at a snail’s pace in the school parking lot before answering. “Well, she’s not, okay? So … we’ll just have to deal with all of this without her.”

“I hate this,” she hissed out while shooting venomous looks toward the school building.

“No one likes high school, Ley. That’s just the way it works, buck up.”

“The teachers are stupid. The other kids are idiots – I’m like surrounded by insanity. Why can’t I just drop out and get a job?”

“And what kind of job are you going to get if you don’t have a diploma? Flipping burgers?” He snorted in disgust.

“Mom didn’t finish high school and look at her.”

“Yes, let’s look at her for a minute, shall we?” he snapped back.

Leyna blinked in surprise. Her father never raised his voice with her. She sat up a little straighter and looked at him with new interest.

“One,” he ticked off on his fingers, “your mother didn’t graduate from high school and in fact, quit when she was a junior.” He shot her a meaningful glance. “Two, your mother has never held a job for longer than three months – ever.” Yet again another quick glance at her as he navigated traffic. “Three, she quit our marriage. She never even gave us a fighting chance.” He said quietly. He paused for long moments before clearing his throat and continuing. “But the one I can not ever forgive her for, the one thing that I think she quit that is truly unforgiveable?” He turned to look at her. “She quit being a mother to you. What kind of person leaves her child, Leyna? Do you think your mother has led, or is possibly leading a better life now? Is that what you want from your life?”

Leyna squirmed and stared with unusual interest at her backpack. She absently fingered the zipper before answering. “Not really.”

“That is exactly the sort of life you’re going to have if you don’t finish what you started. Sure it’s hard. Sure it sucks. But if you don’t finish, then you’re just setting yourself up to fail later. And I don’t know about you, but no daughter of mine is going to fail.”

Leyna immediately stiffened at his words. “I can do what I damn well please.”

“Not on my watch, you’re not,” he answered while pulling up to the door.

“You can’t make me do anything, dad.” Leyna tilted her chin and looked down her nose defiantly.

“Leyna …” he began before issuing a sigh. “Grow up.”

She blinked in surprise at him again. Why was he being so harsh with her? Her chin dropped an inch and doubt began to swallow her confidence. “Why are you making me do this, dad? You’ve never made me do something I didn’t want to do in the past.”

“And I regret that now,” he shot back without blinking an eye. “I’ve been too easy on you, Ley. Mainly because I felt bad about Zoe leaving. But I realize now that that attitude has only hurt you, and not helped you. Look,” he jerked the transmission into park and twisted to give her his full attention. “We have a lot of issues, Leyna. Issues that are actually a lot of my fault. I’d like to talk about these things but,” he glanced around, “this isn’t really the time or place to talk about all of that. But I’m going to tell you something and I want you to listen.”

Leyna slipped on her dark sunglasses and pushed them into place on her nose. This was a side of her father she had never seen before and she wasn’t quite sure how to process the emotional influx that suddenly closed around her heart.

“I got a call from the school board a few days ago.”

Leyna’s spine started tingling and she could feel a headache tickling her temples.

“If you skip any more school, they will be forced to file charges against me. Do you want to see me go to jail?”

Leyna’s eyes widened at the news. “Oh, come on. They can’t do that, can they? How can they do that?” her voice rose with each word until it was hovering just below hysteria.

“It’s a law, Leyna. Parents are required to make sure their children receive an education. You’re not in school, so how can you be getting that education?”

“Dad,” Leyna whined.

“Do it for me, Ley,” he said quietly.

Leyna continued to stare at her father. She was certainly surprised to hear that the school had contacted her father, though she supposed it was bound to happen. She had indeed been skipping too much. At first, it started with leaving after lunch. And when nothing was said about her absence in her afternoon classes, she began skipping a day here and there. And still, when no one called her on it, she began skipping consecutive days – now she was lucky if she made it a full day in a week’s time.

It’s not that she wanted her father to get into trouble, but she just couldn’t stand the whole dull routine of going to class. She felt like a piece of meat being lead by the nose from one stall to another to be closely examined and criticized for her actions and thoughts.

She wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on the fact that she didn’t understand half of what they were trying to teach her and she was too embarrassed to ask for help.

She blinked back the sudden moisture in her eyes and without another word, snatched up her backpack and slid out of the truck. She slammed the door shut, purposefully not meeting her father’s gentle hazel eyes and maintaining a purposeful stride, she entered the torture chamber.

“Whoa Leyna, you’re here!” Her best friend, Peaches, greeted her just inside the door. “What’s up girlfriend? I thought we were going to meet at Starbucks in about,” she glanced at her black, alligator skin watch with the lime-green triangle face before continuing, “ten minutes. What are you doing here?”

Leyna lifted her sunglasses to her head with one hand and thumbed behind her to indicate her father’s truck, still idle at the curb with the other.

“Ah. The old man is watching you, eh?” She gave her friend a knowing wink. “Let’s move in a bit so he can’t see you anymore.” She took her arm and they moved into the sea of students surrounding them. “Give it a few minutes, he’ll take off.”

Both girls glanced back out the doors and when Leyna’s father moved back into the flow of traffic, she released a sigh of relief. “Wow. He was really riding me today,” Leyna complained before rudely popping a bubble.

“Yeah, parents.” Peaches rolled her eyes and then started toward the front door. She glanced back when she realized that Leyna wasn’t with her. “Are you coming?”

Leyna shuffled her feet and looked down at her holey black Converse sneakers. “Um, I’m thinking I might stick around today.”

Peaches burst out laughing and then realizing her friend was serious, immediately sobered. She quickly glanced around before moving to stand in front of her. “Are you nuts?” she asked, the glitter from her lip gloss sparkling in the overhead light. “We’re so far behind now, we’ll never catch up. It’s too late, man. Sticking around is just a waste of time. Let’s go grab a coffee.”

Leyna licked her lips and looked longingly at the front door of the school. Bright sunlight bounced off the sidewalk and shimmered around the bare branches of the trees. It was almost as if it was opening its arms and inviting her to appreciate its beauty.

She didn’t want her father to get into trouble, but Peaches was right. It had been so long since she had been to class, she knew she was several assignments behind. It really wouldn’t do any good to go to class – she had waited too long to listen to her subconscious.

“Right. Let’s go.”

Peaches looked relieved and smiled. She hooked an arm through Leyna’s and fell into step beside her; they headed toward the front door. They had just reached the point where they had exited through one glass door and was getting ready to exit the second glass door to the outside when Leyna stopped cold in her tracks. Peaches stumbled.

“What the … what are you doing?”

Leyna nodded toward the husky, attractive man with a slight limp coming toward them. “My father,” she swallowed and stared at the male moving toward them, his steps determined, his jaw set. “He’s back.”

Prompt Fiction

Fiction: Haircut Hotties

Karen

Thursday Thread
Thursday is the day I post a bit o’ fiction.

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Haircut Hotties

“Oh come on mom, do we have to?” Dustin whined from the back seat of the car.

“Please don’t start on me, Dustin. I’m getting a headache.” Janet leaned forward to look at the overcast sky. Even though she did indeed get headaches when the weather changed, she highly suspected the real reason her head was starting to pound was because it was time to take the boys to get their haircut.

She hated taking her boys to get their haircut.

“But I just got a haircut,” Dustin lamented.

“That was nearly three months ago, right after you got out of school.”

“Yeah, and?”

Janet sighed and pinched her nose to try and ward off the impending pressure. “Seriously, don’t. You need a haircut, end of story.”

“But this makes like the millionth time,” her pre-teen son said while slumping down in his seat and crossing his arms in a huff.

“Right. So what’s one more?”

Dustin mumbled something incoherent – Janet felt it was wiser to ignore his disgruntled mumblings.

“Where are we going?” Her teenage son muttered in the seat next to her.

“Do I have to actually grace that with an answer?” Janet ground her teeth and made a left turn.

“I mean,” Robert said with exaggerated patience, “I thought that haircut place was the other way.” He sat up a little straighter in his seat and looked around with growing interest. “Where the hell …”

“Robert,” she warned and her son issued a long-suffering sigh. She didn’t exactly oppose cursing, God knew she had a problem with it herself, but it somehow sounded more … obscene coming from her children’s’ mouths.

“Okay, where the HECK are you taking us, mom?” Robert smirked and shot her a cheeky look.

“We’re trying a new place.” She braced for the impact.

She wasn’t disappointed.

“What?!” Robert’s deep brown eyes widened in sudden terror. Her nearly 17-year old son abhorred change of any kind. “But I was used to the other place.”

“Yeah, but they take forever and I don’t feel like waiting around twenty minutes for them to get started on you.”

“That’s only if you don’t have an appointment,” Robert smirked.

“We have had appointments every time we’ve gone there, Rob.” She shot him an impatient glance. “Look. The ladies are nice there, and they do a good job, but you have to admit, they are sloooow. I have things to do. I can’t afford to sit around all afternoon while they gab and snip. Wouldn’t you rather get back home so you can bury your nose in your new game?”

Robert shrugged and Janet savored this one small victory. There weren’t many victories nowadays; she would take what she could get.

“So, this new place …” Robert began, his eyebrows disappearing into his shaggy bangs.

“Is different,” Janet answered and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She wasn’t exactly sure how her boys would react when they reached the new place.

“What’s it called?” Robert asked.

Janet waved a nonchalant hand and murmured her response.

“Wait, I didn’t catch that. What is it again?” Robert turned to give her his full attention and she sensed Dustin leaning forward from the back seat.

“Uh, well,” she gulped, “I think it’s called ‘Cut by Hotties.’”

Dustin burst out laughing and Robert stroked the peach fuzz on his upper lip. “I think I’ve heard of that place,” Robert said with a grin.

“Yeah well …” Janet wasn’t sure how Robert had heard about the revolutionary barber shop and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know, quite frankly, but she was ready to try anything if it meant she wouldn’t be forced to sit and watch testosterone-driven movies for two hours while the boys got worked on at the other place.

The boys had never liked getting their haircut. Even when they were little, they would bicker, cry and generally throw a fit anytime anyone showed up with a pair of scissors in their hand. And though they had mellowed over time, it still wasn’t top on their priority list. They were beyond the causing a scene stage now, but their stony silence and their heated looks nearly always made the stylists nervous causing them to either not take off enough so that Janet had to trim them up when they got home, or they would take off too much and Janet would be forced to listen to them whine and complain until it grew back to an acceptable (and unruly) length.

As a result of the haircut drama over the years, she took them to several different places, always looking for that one stylist who would cut their hair like they wanted or who wouldn’t tremble under their obstinate behavior.

So far, they had all failed to stand up to the boys’ unrealistic expectations.

She had stopped taking them to her stylist years ago simply because she got tired of having to explain her sons’ behavior every time she went in for a color and a trim. She could understand the boys’ reluctance to have anyone touch them or put their fingers in their hair, but enough was enough. Everyone had to have their haircut at some point – it was no big deal.

She pulled into the shopping center and parked the dark blue Corolla in front of the ‘Cut by Hotties’ shop.

No one moved.

The trio sat in the car, all eyes trained on the activities inside the salon. The place was crawling with pretty girls hovering over numerous men in barber chairs. Several men were sitting along the front wall in various stages of having their hair worked on. One man was in a reclined position and was eagerly exposing his neck for a shave. Another man was talking animatedly and using his hands to make his point while keeping his eyes trained on his stylist in the mirror. Yet another man, his back to his stylist was seemingly staring straight at them.

“What’s that dude staring at us for?”

Janet felt a slow flush creep up her neck and cleared her throat. “I really have no …”

She paused as something caught her attention in her peripheral. Two women, both attractive and both wearing what looked like a skimpy uniform, were ambling toward the front door of the salon. One wore comfortable flips-flops, the soles slapped softly on the warm pavement; the other woman wore three-inch backless baby blue heels and looked like she was about ready to topple over trying to walk in them.

“I, uh,” Janet began while pointing to the women. “I’m assuming he’s staring at them.”

The man in the salon wasn’t the only person staring at the women. Robert was staring so hard his glasses began to steam.

“I remember this place now,” Robert said slowly. “It’s like a place for guys to come and get their hair done and,” he jerked his head back to the salon, his eyes greedily scanning over the girls in short red skirts and tight multi-layered black and red spaghetti strapped tunics, “the stylists are supposed to be hot.”

“Yes, well.” Robert’s interest was beginning to make her feel uncomfortable. “It’s for guys and I thought, uh, you might feel more comfortable here,” she finished weakly.

“Cool, let’s go.”

Before Janet could remove her keys from the ignition, Robert and Dustin were out of the car and opening the door to the salon.

“Swell,” Janet mumbled while dropping her keys into her purse. She rolled her eyes and slowly followed her boys into the salon. She noted the “Please tip the girls” sign prominently displayed on the glass door.

Just what kind of a tip are we talking about here? Janet thought as she approached the bubbly brunette behind the counter. “Uh, hi,” she began feeling immediately intimidated by the pretty girl and self-conscious that she was the only female customer in the place. “Robert and Dustin for one o’clock.”

“Right,” the girl responded while chomping on her gum. “We’re all ready for them. Won’t you have a seat?”

Janet looked around but couldn’t see anywhere to sit down. “Where do I sit?”

“Oh,” the girl waved a manicured hand airily behind her, “Just take one of those massage chairs, if you want. They’re quite comfortable.”

Janet slowly walked back to the red leather chairs and sank down, her buttocks perched primly on the edge. She gripped her purse and stared up at the big screen TV – it was tuned to a sports’ channel.

She had never felt so exposed in all her life. Now she knew how men felt when they went into a more traditional salon.

She didn’t like the feeling.

She cleared her throat and tried to look around without actually meeting anyone’s eyes. Maybe her boys wouldn’t like this place either and they could go back to a more traditional-style salon – one that smelled like hair dye and fingernail polish remover.

Janet finally located her boys. They were side-by-side and caught up in a conversation with their stylists.

They didn’t look unhappy. In fact, they looked like they were in a trance, a silly, sappy grin plastered on both of their faces. Robert caught her eye in the mirror at his station and gave her a thumbs-up sign.

Janet carefully schooled her face into a mask of indifference, yet she doubted if anyone would have noticed the lone, frumpy woman in the red leather chair anyway. She gave Robert a little wave as she blindly dug into her bag for her cell phone. As discreetly as possible, she speed-dialed her best friend, Tonya.

“Tonya?” she began, her voice balanced somewhere between amused and worried, “you know that restaurant Hooters?” She waited until Tonya responded before continuing. “Well, we now have a Hooter’s for Hair. Guard your husband, it’s enemy territory over here.”

Prompt Fiction

Fiction: Caught on Tape

Karen

Thursday Thread
Thursday is the day I post a bit o’ fiction.

This was originally posted May 16, 2007.

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Caught on Tape

“What in the world does she hope to gain by doing this?”

“I’m not sure,” Sharon replied, her eyes glued on the fourteen-year old girl on the TV monitor. “I honestly don’t know what to think.”

Kathy placed a comforting hand on Sharon’s arm. “I’m really sorry about this, Shar.”

Tears welled up in Sharon’s eyes and she blinked them away impatiently. “I have to say, if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I never would have believed it.” Sharon could sense Kathy nodding beside her. She sighed. “What am I going to do? I mean, do I ignore this and hope it’s a phase? Or do I confront her so she can act oblivious and lie to my face?”

“I … honestly don’t know.”

“If it were your daughter going through your jewelry box …” Sharon slapped a hand against her thigh and gestured hopelessly at the screen, “and now going through your purse, what would you do?”

The two women watched the girl pocket three twenty-dollar bills into her jeans and then dangle a gold necklace from her fingers. She appeared to be mulling over whether or not she should take it.

“Maybe she won’t take the necklace,” Kathy offered helpfully. The girl shrugged and stuffed the necklace into her pocket. “Or maybe not …” Kathy’s voice trailed off.

“I simply can’t believe my own daughter would steal from me. I mean, if you hadn’t talked me into planting a video camera in my bedroom, I never would have bought this crap.”

Kathy sighed next to her. “Teresa is my friend, Sharon. I knew she wasn’t the type of person to steal from you. She’s been cleaning my house for, oh God, years and we never had any problems. I just didn’t want you to falsely accuse her of something.”

“So instead of firing my housekeeper, now I have a delinquent daughter to deal with.”

They continued to watch the girl rummage through Sharon’s purse before finally giving up, glancing one last time through the room to make sure everything was in its place and finally leave.

“This is going to break her father’s heart,” Sharon mumbled. “I can’t let her out of the house with her stash.” She spoke the last word bitterly. “Is she going to buy drugs? What else would a fourteen-year old girl need money for?”

Sharon stood up and headed toward the door. She paused and turned around. “Unless …” she swallowed. “She doesn’t need the money for drugs. What if she’s …” Her eyes widened in horror. “And she needs the money for a doctor …” Her hand flew up to her mouth and she hurried out of the spare bedroom after her daughter.

“Sara!” She walked briskly to the stairs and grabbed her first-born child by the arm before she could get away from her. “We need to talk.”

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I started a new tweet (I guess that’s what you call them) on Twitter called, appropriately enough, Blog Fodder. Every day I post a writing prompt, just something extra to help you get through the blogging humps. It’s not really a question, per se, but rather something that might trigger a memory, or something you can use as a springboard to write a story, or a blog post. Anything goes. Use the prompt any way you wish.