Tag: fiction

Prompt Fiction

Fiction: Missing Youth

Karen

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

This was originally published May 2, 2007

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Missing Youth

Clara glanced at her watch and frowned. It was nearly time to get back but she just couldn’t force herself to move. It was a beautiful, sunny day and the children were having so much fun playing and chasing each other in the park.

She sighed. She missed having little ones under foot. She missed her grandchildren. She missed her family. Lifting a hand, she shielded her eyes from the afternoon glare. The man on her left shifted a bit and caused the park bench to groan in protest.

Clara looked over at her companion; Ben was asleep and snoring softly. She shook her head in disgust and turned her attention back to the children. How could he sleep on a day like this? There was so much activity, so much life, to appreciate and soak in before going back. There would be plenty of time to sleep, later.

A black and white checked ball bounced off her foot momentarily startling her. A little boy, not more than five, walked shyly toward her. She offered an encouraging smile, careful not to show her teeth; she didn’t want to scare the boy.

“ello,” she croaked in a throaty voice.

The boy hesitated. His eyes darted back and forth between the ball and his friends, he was clearly debating on whether it was worth confronting her to retrieve the ball or simply run back to his friends and forget about the toy.

Clara bent slowly from the waist and tried to pick up the ball, but her bones protested loudly and her muscles locked and refused to stretch. She sighed loudly and lifted one bony shoulder into a shrug. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But I can’t pick it up. Can I kick it to you?” The croak had worked itself out of her voice and the sound came out soothing and friendly. She was pleased at the change and smiled again; this time, the smile reached her eyes.

The boy visibly relaxed at her smile and nodded eagerly. He ran back several paces and Clara laughed softly. “No my child. I can’t kick it that far. You’ll have to come a little closer.”

Ben suddenly twitched next to her and emitted an abrupt snore. The boy jumped and Clara laughed again. “Don’t mind him. He’s just dreaming.” She blinked to bring the ball into focus. “Okay, ready now?”

The boy’s face stretched into a wide grin and he clapped his hands to signal he was ready. Clara summoned what little strength she had, brought her foot back and kicked.

Only she missed and the ball remained near her feet. She glanced up at the boy. The boy stared back at her. Suddenly, they both erupted into giggles. “I’m sorry,” Clara struggled to say past her amusement. “I guess I’m out of practice.”

The boy approached her and placed a small hand on her bare arm. His smile was beatific and his eyes sparkled with life and innocence. “S’ok,” his voice tinkled out. “My mom’s not a very good kicker, either.” He gave her arm little reassuring pats before picking up the ball.

A lump formed in Clara’s throat and she felt an overwhelming sadness surround her heart. She missed her grandchildren. Dear God, she missed them.

A soft rumble eased its way past the sounds of the park and caught the boy’s attention. Clara nodded off into the distance. “It sounds like rain’s coming.”

The boy nodded in agreement. “Yeah. My dad said it was gonna rain today.”

“Your dad is a smart man.” Clara said.

“Yeah,” the boy responded. “’Cept when it comes to fixing things. Mom says he’s not a very good fixer.” He grinned. Clara’s heart jumped at his expression and she noted, for the first time, one of his front teeth was missing.

“Mark!” A voice called toward them.

“Oops. That’s me. I gotta go.” Mark patted her arm again. “Thanks for trying to kick the ball.”

Clara’s eyes began to fill with tears at the boy’s kindness. Her throat closed up and she found she couldn’t speak. She simply nodded and smiled at him in return.

She watched Mark run off, and with each stride of his chubby legs, her smile dissipated until finally, it disappeared altogether.

“Mrs. Stevens?” A deep male voice sounded next to her right ear, a large hand rested on her shoulder. “Are you ready to go?”

“But,” she glanced at the thin gold watch on her wrist. “It’s not time yet.”

“There’s a storm coming, we should go. Are you ready?”

She swallowed a sigh and sadly nodded her agreement.

Prompt Fiction

Fiction: I Had a Problem

Karen

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

This was originally published March 23, 2007

These prompt fiction pieces were all written in a hurry and haven’t been edited (much). I’m using these prompts to free / speed write – just some warm-up exercises.

You can find a ton of writing prompts at Write Anything. Click over today and write YOUR version!

Writing Prompt:

You’re behind a car in traffic when you notice part of a trash bag sticking out from the closed trunk. What’s in the bag?

___________________________

I couldn’t help it. I had a problem. I knew it, my husband knew it, my friends knew it, hell even my neighbors knew it.

I worried the inside of my cheek and continued to check the traffic in my rearview mirror. I kept driving. I had no idea where I was going, but I couldn’t stop. Not now. I had pushed the envelope too far this time. I had lied so many times in the past I had forgotten the truth even existed.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. It was painful and yet strangely comforting. I was alive! Finally, thank God, I was alive.

I knew what I was doing was wrong. I knew there would be repercussions. But I simply couldn’t stop. I had an impulse, a need to do this. It was strong. It pushed me. It was like being stuck in the middle of a parade. The people kept pushing against me; I tried to fight my way through the masses, but somehow, they always won and I ended up being twirled around and pushed ahead of them.

I finally stopped fighting them. What was the use? This was who I was. This was the only thing that kept me breathing, kept me functioning from day to day, kept me from tearing my hair out night after night and kept the demons from clawing my insides to bloody ribbons.

I pulled off the highway and onto the exit ramp. This section of town was dark, mysterious and dangerous. It was the perfect place to dump the contents of the trash bag in the trunk of my car.

I continued to check my rearview mirror. I didn’t think I was being followed, but I couldn’t take the chance. I drove around several blocks, taking side streets and weaving in and out of back alleys.

I released a small sigh of relief when I was finally convinced no one was tailing me. I lifted a shaky hand and removed a fine sheen of perspiration from my brow. The hard part was over. Now it was time to dump the contents.

I couldn’t help but smile at myself in the mirror. This was my favorite part.

I pulled up to the small security building outside the Greenback Storage Facility.

“Hey Ms. Winter. How’s you doin’ tonight?” The large, burly black man smiled at me from within his cubicle. His teeth glowed brightly in the dim light.

“Hi Max,” I replied in what I hope was a normal voice. I sounded breathless, guilty. I cleared my throat and smiled. “Slow night?” I could feel my heartbeat decrease with each heavy thud. It had a tendency to do that whenever I found myself in dire straits.

Max chuckled and pressed the button that opened the security gate. “The only people out are the punks who’s got something to hide,” he said.

I blinked instinctively as if he had taken a swing at me. I swallowed hard and recovered quickly. “Really. Well, then I better not look too guilty, eh?”

The breath caught in my throat as I waited for his reaction. I nonchalantly placed my hand over my purse just in case he asked any more nosey questions.

“Yeah, right Ms. Winter.” He grinned and waved me on through the gate.

I relaxed my death grip on the steering wheel and drove into the facility. I forced myself to drive slowly though what I really wanted to do was tear around the storage buildings on two wheels.

I finally parked in front of door number 414. I slipped out of the car and made a show of stretching my legs. It hadn’t really been that long of a drive, only 45 minutes, but I knew Max was probably watching me on the security monitor. I fished the storage keys out of my purse and walked to the trunk. I jabbed the key into the lock with perhaps more force than was necessary.

I broke a nail and swore softly under my breath.

I popped the trunk and grabbed the heavy black trash bag. A very distinctive and not altogether unpleasant smell wafted up my nose. I took deep breaths and using every ounce of strength I had, I hauled the bag out of the trunk. Using my elbow, I snapped it shut.

I stumbled a few times but was careful to keep my walk regular and steady. I wanted to run as fast as I could to the shed, but I didn’t want to arouse Max’s suspicions. When I reached the door, I unceremoniously dropped the bag at my feet and unlocked the door. I switched on the light and keeping the door open with my rear end, I dragged the bag into the building. It was only after I shut the door and caught my breath did I relax.

I stuffed the fake ID and credit card into the mail pouch next to the door. I wouldn’t need those again for a few weeks.

I turned and feasted my eyes on the mound in the corner. I could feel myself salivating with anticipation. I glanced at my watch. It was 4:15. I had just under an hour to “play.”

A giggle gurgled up inside my throat and I allowed it to surface. The sound reverberated off the walls and sounded scratchy and … evil.

I frowned and dragged the bag over to the mound. I was determined not to let anything spoil the moment, for these indeed were the happiest moments of my life, the trips to my storage container.

I grabbed a corner of the bag and tugged. The contents began to spill out and mix with the mound. The colors were spectacular: blue, red, pink, yellow, green, black, and white.

I rubbed my hands together and kicked off my boots. I began to try on the various pairs of shoes I had just emptied from the bag. I admired myself in the full-length mirror tacked to the far wall.

I sighed happily at my reflection.

“Now THIS is what life is all about,” I said to my flushed, animated face.

Prompt Fiction

Fiction: Hell Freezes Over

Karen

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

This was originally published March 23, 2007

These prompt fiction pieces were all written in a hurry and haven’t been edited (much). I’m using these prompts to free / speed write – just some warm-up exercises.

You can find a ton of writing prompts at Write Anything. Click over today and write YOUR version!

Hell Freezes Over

“So, this is what I’m thinking,” Cyndi whispered. She glanced toward the tall, lanky, dark-haired boy in the corner of the hallway talking to his other geeky friends and pushing his black-rimmed glasses back up his nose.

Stephanie impatiently tugged on her cheerleader skirt while trying to juggle her stack of books looped under one arm. “You, think? Brace yourselves girls, this outta be good.”

Cyndi ignored her friend’s waspish tone of voice and continued. “I’m thinking of asking Lane to the dance this Friday.” She clasped her notebook tightly to her chest and warily watched for her friends’ reactions.

She wasn’t disappointed.

“Girl, you have lost yer min’.” Missy said under her breath.

“You can’t be serious,” Stephanie squeaked.

“With Lane?” Tina chimed.

Nell’s eyes simply blinked, owl-like, behind her round glasses.

“But … why him?” Stephanie asked. “You could pick from any of the more popular guys and – ”

“– and be bored out of my mind,” Cyndi finished for her. “Look,” she leaned in closer to her circle of friends. “I have Lane in English class. Ya’ll know I hate English, right?” All four girls nodded in unison. “But Lane,” she suppressed the urge to sigh, “he makes it fun. He helps me understand stuff. He cracks jokes. He’s a really nice guy. And you know what else?” Her head popped up from the group for a mere second to look toward Lane before lowering once more. “He has really nice eyes.”

There was a long pause.

“But … aren’t you afraid of what people will say?” Stephanie asked.

Cyndi shrugged. “Who cares? I want to have fun and it’ll be nice to actually be myself for a change instead of someone I think everyone wants me to be, ya know?”

Again, all four girls nodded emphatically.

“Okay then,” Cyndi took a deep breath. She shoved her notebook into Nell’s arms and stepped out of the circle. “I’m going to go ask him. Wish me luck!”

“Uh … good luck?” said Missy.

Cyndi squared her shoulders, threw back her long reddish-blonde hair and began to walk toward Lane and his friends.

One of the boys, catching sight of Cyndi heading their way, was so astonished at seeing her that his gum fell out of his mouth. The other boys moved instinctively away from Lane to make room for Cyndi to join their group.

“Ladies,” Stephanie said from the corner of her mouth, her eyes trained on Cyndi, “Hell hath frozen over.”

Prompt Fiction

Fiction: Digging It Up

Karen

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I actually began this story with the intention of using the following three words from Three Word Wednesday: Change, Dizzy and Key. However, it came out so fast that I completely forgot to use the words. lol

____________________________________

“Mom, come here and look at this.”

Hope continued to evaluate herself in the mirror. “What about this one?” she asked her 17-year old daughter while nodding at her reflection and staring at the peach sleeveless turtleneck she held up against her torso. “This one looks dressy.”

“That color is all wrong for you, mom. It makes you look like an albino,” Edie responded without taking her eyes off the scene outside.

“Really?” Hope’s voice trailed off in disappointment. “But I thought this looked good on me.”

“Nope. And you’re whining again.”

“Well, thanks for shattering my self-confidence.” She threw the top onto the bed in a fit of temper and moved to rummage through the rest of her closet. She had lost nearly twenty pounds in the past three months and nothing in her wardrobe appeared to fit her anymore. She wasn’t sure she had very many more clothes she could try on.

“Seriously, mom, you need to see this.”

“I’m sort of busy right now! I need to meet your father for lunch in 45 minutes!” Her voice was laced with tension and she felt a twinge of disgust at her desperation. Since when had she become so desperate to be someone she wasn’t?

Since her husband had been working longer hours and was home a lot less, that’s when.

The children weren’t aware of how shaky things had become between her and William lately. She wanted to look drop-dead gorgeous for their lunch date and remind her husband, if not verbally, then subliminally, how good he really had it.

“There are strange men with bulldozers crawling all over our yard,” Edie said in a breathy timbre.

“What?” Hope continued to grab handfuls of clothes and toss them out of the closet. She felt a bubble of a giggle percolate deep in her belly as she pictured someone walking into the bedroom and seeing various articles of clothing being tossed into the air and no one visibly throwing them. I’m hysterical, she thought. I’m going to have a nervous breakdown and then where will I be? “On my own with four children to support and a medicine cabinet full of prescription drugs, that’s where,” she mumbled under her breath.

She continued to empty her closet and felt like screaming in frustration. She’d have one hell of a mess to clean up later, but she didn’t care. She NEEDED to find something, anything at this point that would accentuate her weight loss. Maybe Edie had something she could wear …

“MOM!”

Hope jumped and issued a small squeal of surprise. She paused, her arms over her head, to glare at her daughter. “WHAT?” she yelled back.

“Come here, now.”

“Don’t talk to me like that young –”

“These guys are ripping up our driveway!”

“WHAT?” Hope repeated, only this time, the lone word was yelled in confusion.

Edie disappeared from view and Hope followed her to the window that overlooked the back of the house. Her daughter stood to one side and with one hand, flicked a grand gesture to the scene outside. “Our driveway is gone.”

Hope looked out of the window and her soft blue eyes, the color of aged denim, widened in shock. “What the heck are they doing?”

“Ripping up our driveway,” Edie shot back, her voice laced with sarcasm.

“I can see that, Ms Smarty-Pants. I mean, why are they doing it?”

“Because it’s their job?” her daughter offered helpfully.

Hope ignored her and wracked her brain for an explanation. She didn’t remember talking to anyone about coming out to dig up their driveway. And she didn’t recall William saying anything to her about setting something like this up. Maybe they had the wrong address?

“Um mom,” Edie fidgeted nervously next to her. “You might want to find out what’s going on?” She gestured to a huge backhoe that was positioning itself just before her asphalt driveway, the claw-like scoop lowering slowly toward the edge of their property line.

“Crap!” Hope whirled around and stuck her feet into her floral flip-flops and rushed out of the bedroom.

“MOM!” Edie called after her.

Hope whirled around in a huff. “Edie! You’re seriously getting on my nerves.” She stuck her hands on her hips, “What now?”

Edie smiled and Hope bristled. Her daughter gestured to her bra and panties. “You’re sort of underdressed for a confrontation, don’t you think?”

Hope glanced down at her body and growled. “Damn it. WHERE is my head today?” She hurried back to her bedroom and hurriedly shrugged into a t-shirt and old gym shorts. “I’ll be right back.”

“What, are you kidding me? I’m coming with you. Those guys are hot.”

Hope rolled her eyes and brushed past her daughter. She ignored her as she stopped to primp in the hallway mirror before hurrying to catch up with her.

Hope threw open the doors and half walked, half ran, toward the small cluster of dark, tanned men gathered around her driveway.

“Excuse me!” She said, raising her voice to be heard over the roar of the bulldozer’s engine. “Excuse me!”

One of the men, a heavyset man in his 50’s caught a glimpse of her and motioned for the man in the bulldozer to cut the engine by making a slicing motion across his throat. The noise abruptly stopped and Hope skidded to a halt, Edie so close behind her she nearly stumbled into her.

“Hi.” Hope said, her voice overly bright and cheery. “Um, what are you doing?” She gestured to the large chunks of dirt, gravel and asphalt three feet from where they were standing.

The heavyset man took off his construction helmet and ran a hand over his sweaty brow. “Uh, digging up your driveway.”

Hope felt like screaming. “Yes, I can see that. But WHY are you digging up my driveway?”

A mixture of emotions skidded across the man’s face: annoyance, alarm and confusion. “Because we were hired …” the words came out in a halting flow of Irish brogue. “Tom!” He turned to bark at the impossibly thin man behind him. “Check our work papers.”

He continued to smile and shift his bulk awkwardly from foot to foot as he waited for Tom to walk back to the truck and retrieve the work order. Hope flashed a polite, but tolerant smile and Edie batted her lashes at the cute, dark man who looked like he might be of Latino descent.

Hope gave the man Edie was oogling the once over and a warning look. When the man noticed her glare, he coughed and quickly got back to work. Edie huffed in irritation next to her.

“Okay, here we are,” the man said while taking the work order from his employee’s hands. “Is this 421 N. Pickwick?”

“Yes,” Hope confirmed quietly. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and sighed. “Who authorized this?”

“Uh,” the man squinted to read the name. “A William Stone.”

Hope’s heart sank and she nodded. “Right. That’s my husband. Okay, I’ll call him and see what’s going on. I’m sorry to bother you.”

“No problem,” the man shrugged and waved for his guys to get back to work.

“What’s the big deal, mom?” Edie asked as they walked back into the house. “So, our driveway is being repaved, big deal.”

“It’s not a big deal,” said Hope.

“Then why are you getting so bent of out shape?”

Hope didn’t answer her and instead went right for the phone. She dialed her husband’s office and impatiently tapped her manicured nails against the kitchen countertop.

“Mom?”

“Ssh. … hey, it’s me.” Hope said as soon as her husband answered.

“What’s up?”

“Did you authorize some guys to come out and repave our driveway?”

There was a long moment of silence before he responded. “Yeah. It needed it.”

He sounded defensive. Hope softened her tone. “Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”

“Why?”

“Why?” she sputtered. “How much is this costing?”

“Why do you care? I’m paying for it.”

She closed her eyes and absorbed the barb. Her lack of financial contribution to the family had been a sore spot between them for the past several months. “It would have been nice to have been consulted, that’s all.”

She waited for him to respond. When the silence stretched out for long seconds, she cleared her throat and asked, “Do you really think it needed it?” Though they had lived in their house for the past 20 years, they had been vigilant in making sure everything was properly maintained. And in her opinion, the driveway had been fine.

Several long, silent seconds stretched between them again before he answered, “It adds value to the house.”

She blinked. “Why would that matter?”

His answer was cold and hollow, “Because I just put the house up for sale.”

Prompt Fiction

Take it, Before I Change My Mind

Karen

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

This was originally published February 27, 2007

This prompt fiction piece was written in a hurry and hasn’t been edited (much). I use prompts to free / speed write – just some warm-up exercises.

You can find a ton of writing prompts at Write Anything. Click over today and write YOUR version!

Here’s one:

Writing prompt: While you are volunteering for your favorite charity, a man walks up to your table and hands you $1,000,000 in large bills. He walks away weeping, but never says a word.

Tell his story.

“I hate to tell you this, husband of mine, but you’re going to hell. And I ain’t burnin’ with you, buster.” Mary leaned against the makeshift bar and scanned the crowd. She continued talking, keeping her voice low and even. “You’re a thief, Stan. You were born a thief, you’ve lived your life as a thief and you’ll die a thief.” She leaned in close to his ear, her lips barely grazing his skin. “If you don’t give that money up right now, right this very minute, I’m walking out that door. And you’ll lose the only good thing that’s ever happened to your sorry life.”

Stan heaved a heavy sigh and silently agreed with her. Mary was a difficult woman, but she was right. He loved her and she was good for him. He could feel his entire life of conning people out of their hard-earned cash weighing down on his shoulders. He wanted to change, he just wasn’t sure how to go about it.

“Okay.”

Mary stiffened beside him and looked at him in surprise. She had issued the ultimatum because she wanted him to change, their lives to change, but she hadn’t really expected him to agree. The truth was, she would never leave him, she loved him too much. She quickly squashed her astonishment and nodded. “Well okay then.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Do? Mary chewed on her lower lip. She hadn’t thought this far ahead. They were at a charity function. Her kid brother was heavily involved with raising money for some such charity (in truth, she wasn’t even sure what the charity function was this week) and she had agreed to stop by to show her support. She glanced around the room and quickly assessed each person’s personal need by what they were wearing and their body language.

“There.” She nodded toward three women sitting around a table. Two women, both blonde, were leaning toward each other and chatting under their breath. They were drinking what looked like margaritas. The third woman, a small-framed person with hair the color of copper, was quietly watching the auctioneer. She lifted the bottle of water to her unpainted lips every few seconds as if to give her something to do.

“Give the money to that red-headed woman over there.”

Stan stared at her. “Are you crazy? Do you know the hoops I had to jump through to get this stash?”

Mary simply stared at him. Though she hadn’t expected him to go along with her request, now that it was happening, it suddenly became very important to her that he go through with it.

Stan issued another gut-wrenching sigh and nodded. “Fine.” He picked up the briefcase and walked over to the woman. He ignored her shocked look as he placed the case on the table, snapped it open, and began placing $1,000,000 in cash before her. He felt the tears rolling down his face and continued counting.

When he was done, he nodded to the woman (he noted she had one of those sexy beauty marks just to the right of her mouth), and walked away. He did it. He felt strangely … free. He smiled at Mary when he reached her. He leaned in and whispered softly into her ear. “Tonight better be my lucky night after this.”

Mary simply smiled in return.