Zealous

It’s the last day of the A to Z Challenge. I was very zealous when the challenge started. I loved thinking up each day’s story. I will admit some letters were harder than others, but it was a challenge after all. 

I’m proud to say I enjoyed the whole experience from start to finish, and I completed every letter/day on time. (Good thing blogger has the scheduling feature.) 

One thing I didn’t expect was that my writing would improve because of the challenge. I usually write micro fiction pieces for my storyboard blog, but with the challenge, I found my stories were getting longer. People responded to the change as well. I received great reviews of the stories included in the challenge.

I will definitely do the A to Z Challenge next year…if I know about it in time. My memory is awful, so I’ll hope people talk about it to remind me. 

I hope everyone else enjoyed the challenge as well. Now, I will leave you with a story for the letter Z. Thanks for reading, y’all.

Andrea picked up the pace as she rounded the last bend in the twisting, winding road. She knew the finish line was around the corner and she was definitely ready for the race to be over.

When she started out, Andrea was over zealous. She bought new running shoes, shorts, and a sports bra that was supposed to hold up anything. She trained every day, sometimes twice a day. Her dog, Charlie, got tired of running with her and refused to leave the house. If she wanted his company, she had to forcibly put his leash on him. She gave up after a while and just ran on her own.

Her friends tried to tell her she was overdoing it, that she needed to pace herself, but Andrea hadn’t listened. She knew she had to train or she’d never make the thirteen miles. She’d only been running for a  few months, but was determined to finish the half marathon. 

No blisters, cramps or sore muscles were going to keep her from accomplishing her goal. And on the morning of the race, she had all of those and more.

Still, Andrea donned her gear and headed to the starting line. She remembered the excitement of the moment, the exhilaration the crowd shared. 

The first few miles went well. Andrea kept her pace steady, her head up and pushed forward. At the five-mile marker, she tripped. Andrea pulled herself back up and continued on, blood dripping down her knees and her palms on fire. 

At mile marker 8, her side started cramping. Andrea held her side and tried to keep running. She made another mile before she had to slow to a walk. After another mile, the pain subsided and she started to run again. 

She reached the ten-mile marker and her bladder started complaining. Andrea looked around for a port-a-potty, but none was in sight. Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer and took off into the woods. 

Andrea had just pulled her shorts down when she looked over and spotted two men, mouths agape, watching her. She noticed the golf clubs as she fell face forward onto the ground. The men quickly turned around, but not before she heard their laughter.

Gathering her clothes, and her dignity, Andrea resumed the race. Her face was blazing, but her feet felt like they were stuck in molasses. She trudged onward, determined to make it to the end. 

At mile eleven, Andrea decided she’d been out of her mind to enter the race. By mile twelve, she was cursing everything from the sun, which was boiling, to her new sports bra, which wasn’t holding anything in check, but letting her boobs bounce around like basketballs. 

Still she ran. She wasn’t about to make it that far and quit. Andrea was going to finish the race if it killed her.

The finish line was in sight when Andrea fell. She clutched her chest and doubled over in pain. The other racers, who had already finished, rushed to her side. They told Andrea to lay still, that help was on the way. 

Andrea wouldn’t listen. She pushed at those trying to help her, yelling for them to get out of the way. 

Nobody knew what to do, and they couldn’t get her to calm down, so they moved away from Andrea and watched as she turned over and started to crawl.

Andrea finished the race, although nobody was sure she knew it. She crawled over the finish line and collapsed. Her friends had ‘Never Give Up’ etched on her headstone.

Yesterdays

Pictures of days gone by covered the wall. Birthday parties, graduations, family reunions, and everyday snapshots surrounded Katy.

Katy looked at them and smiled. 

She remembered everything that happened in each photograph. Every smile, every sunrise, every wish before the candles were blown out. 

Her family watched her and cried.

Katy looked at the others in the room and wondered why they were so sad. All the pictures were of happy times. They should be smiling, not crying. 

Of course, Katy didn’t know what their family was like…

X Marks the Spot

Marcy looked at the map. She wondered if Ted would think it creative and fun or childish and silly. She hoped he had enough imagination to play along. Marcy didn’t think she could be with someone who wasn’t a little twisted.

Oh well, she decided, only one way to find out. She folded the map and tucked it in Ted’s sports coat. She knew it was the same pocket Ted kept his cell phone in so he was sure to find the map. Marcy then kissed Ted lightly on the cheek so as not to wake him and left.

***

It was four hours later, and Marcy still waited. She knew it would take a while for Ted to find the note. He would get up, shower and dress, and then put his cell phone in his pocket right before leaving. What she didn’t know, was what he’d do after he found the map.

Would he shake his head and throw it away? Be completely puzzled and try to call her to find out what was going on, or follow the clues?

Marcy hoped he picked the last option, and that he would be there soon because it was getting cold. 

She knew it would take him a while to find all the clues. He wasn’t as used to the area as she was, but he was clever. That was one of the things Marcy loved about Ted, along with his smokin’ hot body. 

She was still thinking of that body when she heard someone at the door. A key slid into the keyhole and the door slowly opened. Marcy smiled when she heard Ted whisper her name.

“Yes, baby, it’s me,” she purred. “Come and get your prize,” she added and held out her arms. 

The fire in Ted’s eyes was all the answer Marcy needed to know she’d finally picked the right man. When he picked her up in his arms, the map fell to the floor. The big red X in the center not the only spot Ted found that was just right that night.

Watch Your Back

Wally snatched Bart up by the collar and spit in his face. He then threw him face down in the dirt. 

“Where is it?” Wally demanded.

“You’ll never find it,” Bart replied, and then smiled, which was a mistake. 

When Wally finished working him over, Bart looked like he’d been hit by a truck. He had a broken arm, two black eyes, and he was sure a few ribs were cracked. He also figured he’d piss blood for a while. 

“Where is it?” Wally asked again. Those were the only words he’d spoken, but of course, they were the only ones that mattered.

“I’ll never tell.”

Wally worked Bart over some more and then asked his question again. When Bart still wouldn’t disclose the location of the missing money, Wally shook his head in disgust. He wished the man had a family. It was easy to make family men talk in Wally’s experience. All you had to do was threaten someone they loved. But the boss hired guys without family for that very reason. He didn’t want his competition getting information out of his people. It wasn’t very often that strategy backfired on the boss. 

Wally wanted to kill the bastard, but the boss said they had to recover the money first. Wally wasn’t so sure Bart would ever give it up. The man seemed to think he was saving the world by keeping the money from the organization. Wally heard he said something about not letting any more drugs corrupt the schools in town. Wally wondered if he really thought the money he was hiding was going to stop kids from taking drugs. If he did, they had a bigger problem on their hands because he was totally, bat-shit, crazy.

Wally hated crazy.

“Where is it?” he asked one more time.

Bart still refused to answer and Wally was tired. He kicked Bart in the gut one more time and bent down so he could whisper in Bart’s ear, “Watch your back,” before he left.

Bart lay there for hours before anyone came by. By the time he was taken to the hospital, it was too late.

***

“Where is it?” The man asked Wally.

“I already told you, I don’t know,” Wally replied for the tenth time. 

Wally couldn’t believe the boss actually thought Bart told him where the money was and that he was hiding it. He’d worked for the organization for twenty years, the boss was his second cousin, but evidently, in the organization, blood wasn’t thicker than water. 

He tried to prepare himself for the next kick, but he was too broken to do so. Wally lay there and took the abuse. The man finally stopped kicking and asked where the money was again.

“I don’t know. Bart never told me,” Wally replied. “Tell the boss Bart took it with him to the grave.”

The man pulled out his gun and said, “Looks like he’s not the only one.”

Secrets

 My story for the Three Word Wednesday prompt.

Maribel soothed Kurt, her tender touch calming his nerves. He knew he should be talking with his wife and not a co-worker, but since his wife was the problem, that wouldn’t work. 

Kurt still couldn’t believe what he’d walked in on earlier. He knew his wife had a kinky side, but never anything like what he had witnessed.  

“All the blood,” he whispered again.

“Shhh, it’s ok,” Maribel said, although she knew it wasn’t. She couldn’t imagine walking in on her husband doing what Kurt had found his wife doing. She didn’t think there was enough counseling in the world to fix something like that.

Kurt’s cell phone vibrated again. It was the tenth time his wife had tried to reach him, and the tenth time he was ignoring her. He couldn’t talk to her yet. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to again. 

“How can I face her?” 

Maribel just rubbed his back. She had no answer. 

The door suddenly burst open. Kurt and Maribel jumped and spun around to see Marcus standing there, hair standing up on end, shirt untucked and tears in his eyes. 

“Get out!” Kurt yelled. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Please, Kurt,” Marcus pleaded. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

“What else can I say?” Marcus asked. “There’s no excuse for sleeping with your brother’s wife.”

Kurt didn’t know what to say to that. He still couldn’t believe his wife, let alone his brother, would betray him. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he never would have.

“Just leave, Marc,” he told his brother. 

Maribel gasped when Marcus turned around, causing Kurt to raise his eyes to his brother. Seeing the bloody evidence soaking through Marcus’s shirt, Kurt covered his face with his hands and cried.