Ok, this is the last of the stories I needed to catch up on the Your Photo Story prompt blog. I hope y'all enjoy this one. Thought it was appropriate to do a seasonal piece.
Charlie stared at the Christmas tree, tears streaming down his cheeks. Carla watched him, not sure how to fix things. That no good bastard could have at least stopped by here on his way to visit The Whore, she thought, twisting the phone cord in her hand savagely. She had been trying to reach Steve for two hours with no luck.
“What was that you said, honey?” she asked Charlie, not catching his whisper.
Wiping a tear, he said, “Nothing, Mom, I was talking to Santa.”
Carla sighed, knowing he was asking Santa to send his dad home for Christmas again. He’d ask the same thing of every Santa they saw in the mall and on TV. She had found it was hard to explain to a six year old that Santa couldn’t always deliver what you wanted. He was insistent Santa would come through because he always got the gifts he wanted each year.
A terrific noise outside drew their attention. “What the hell?” Carla wondered, stepping in front of Charlie who was reaching to open the front door. “Let me go first, honey.”
Carla inched the door open slowly, peeking around the corner. “Shit!” she muttered, spying her ex-husband sprawled on the front porch, passed out cold.
“Dad!” Charlie shouted and rushed around her, stooping at his father’s side.
Carla knelt also, trying to figure out how she was going to get Steve inside, when Charlie spoke, mischief lighting his eyes. “I guess dad couldn’t handle riding in Santa’s sleigh.”
Showing posts with label Your Photo Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Your Photo Story. Show all posts
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Horse Play
I'm cacthing up on the prompts for the Your Photo Story blog. Here is my second story of the day:
“Have you ever wondered what they’re thinking?” Terrie asked Barbra, looking deep into the horse’s eyes.
“I know what this one is thinking,” Barbra replied with authority.
“Yeah, sure, you think you know everything.”
“I’ll bet you ten dollars I know what this horse wants,” Barbra offered.
Terrie contemplated her friend. Barbra did have a habit of thinking she knew everything about everything, which was very annoying. Terrie didn’t want to part with ten dollars, but didn’t see how Barbra could possibly know what the horse wanted, and she would love to see her eat crow for once. Digging in her pocket, she pulled out the betting money and said, “you’re on.”
Barbra stepped around Terrie and said, “He wants a carrot.”
Terrie asked, “How could you possibly know that? Do you speak horse,” she teased, hearing the horse whinny at Barbra.
Pulling the hand she had concealed behind her back to the front, Barbra answered, “No, I just know he sure was eyeing this carrot hungrily before you got here,” before snatching the ten from Terrie’s hand, and laughing her head off.
“Have you ever wondered what they’re thinking?” Terrie asked Barbra, looking deep into the horse’s eyes.
“I know what this one is thinking,” Barbra replied with authority.
“Yeah, sure, you think you know everything.”
“I’ll bet you ten dollars I know what this horse wants,” Barbra offered.
Terrie contemplated her friend. Barbra did have a habit of thinking she knew everything about everything, which was very annoying. Terrie didn’t want to part with ten dollars, but didn’t see how Barbra could possibly know what the horse wanted, and she would love to see her eat crow for once. Digging in her pocket, she pulled out the betting money and said, “you’re on.”
Barbra stepped around Terrie and said, “He wants a carrot.”
Terrie asked, “How could you possibly know that? Do you speak horse,” she teased, hearing the horse whinny at Barbra.
Pulling the hand she had concealed behind her back to the front, Barbra answered, “No, I just know he sure was eyeing this carrot hungrily before you got here,” before snatching the ten from Terrie’s hand, and laughing her head off.
Getting What is Least Expected
This is a story for the Your Photo Story prompt site. I hope y'all enjoy it.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this!” Sheila screamed over the roar of the engines. “Who jumps out of a perfectly good airplane?” She asked, fingers tightening on the edges of the door, holding on for dear life.
“People who want more out of life than the boring ordinary,” Clint replied, strapped into the tandem chute at her back. “Now relax and push off. I’m right here with you. It’s going to be fine.”
Sheila didn’t believe him for a minute. She had been tricked into this adventure. Well, not exactly tricked, she admitted, but it was definitely underhanded. When she gave him the ticket for one day of whatever he wanted for his birthday, she sure didn’t imagine it would be 2,000 feet in the air.
At Clint’s not -so-subtle nudge, she took a deep breath and pushed out of the plane.
Screaming at the top of her lungs, she shut her eyes tightly and waited for death.
“Open your eyes,” Clint ordered.
“No!”
“Come on,” he laughed, “you won’t regret it.”
Sheila peeked with one eye and what she saw took her breath away. Opening both eyes wide, she took in the vista laid out in patchwork below them.
“It’s beautiful,” she shouted.
“Now aren’t you glad you came?”
Even though she was glad, and wouldn’t have missed this for the world, Sheila wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily. “I’ll let you know when my feet are safely on the ground again,” she quipped, relaxing and enjoying the rest of the journey.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this!” Sheila screamed over the roar of the engines. “Who jumps out of a perfectly good airplane?” She asked, fingers tightening on the edges of the door, holding on for dear life.
“People who want more out of life than the boring ordinary,” Clint replied, strapped into the tandem chute at her back. “Now relax and push off. I’m right here with you. It’s going to be fine.”
Sheila didn’t believe him for a minute. She had been tricked into this adventure. Well, not exactly tricked, she admitted, but it was definitely underhanded. When she gave him the ticket for one day of whatever he wanted for his birthday, she sure didn’t imagine it would be 2,000 feet in the air.
At Clint’s not -so-subtle nudge, she took a deep breath and pushed out of the plane.
Screaming at the top of her lungs, she shut her eyes tightly and waited for death.
“Open your eyes,” Clint ordered.
“No!”
“Come on,” he laughed, “you won’t regret it.”
Sheila peeked with one eye and what she saw took her breath away. Opening both eyes wide, she took in the vista laid out in patchwork below them.
“It’s beautiful,” she shouted.
“Now aren’t you glad you came?”
Even though she was glad, and wouldn’t have missed this for the world, Sheila wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily. “I’ll let you know when my feet are safely on the ground again,” she quipped, relaxing and enjoying the rest of the journey.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Foggy Failings
This is my latest contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt. Added a little humor this time.
Moisture settled in shiny droplets on Kerry’s hair. Searching the fog ahead, she listened for any signs of Trey. I can’t believe he left me out here by myself, she silently fumed. I’ll make him pay for this.
The crunch of a nearby branch drew Kerry’s attention. “Trey,” she whispered, “is that you?” Walking closer, she strained to see through the murky steam. “Trey,” she tried again to no avail.
“Damn,” she muttered, tripping over a fallen tree. Righting herself, she looked up into the gaping mouth of evil.
Screaming and thrashing backward, Kerry tried to run, but the huge beast grabbed her leg and pulled her against itself. “Grrrr,” he shouted in her ear.
Kerry screamed again and then stood dumbstruck when the beast released her and laughed. Looking closely, she saw the thing was naked from the neck down. Stepping closer, she watched while the furry, beastly head was removed to reveal Trey who was laughing so hard he was grasping for breath.
“You bastard,” she hissed, slapping him.
“Come on, Ker, you have to admit it was funny,” Trey replied.
Kerry composed herself and looked down. Smirking, she answered, “The only thing funny around here is that beanie weenie hanging between your legs,” before spinning on her heels and walking away.
Trey looked down and sputtered, “It’s the fog! The cold causes shrinkage, Damnit!” before running after her, following the sound of laughter into the woods.
Moisture settled in shiny droplets on Kerry’s hair. Searching the fog ahead, she listened for any signs of Trey. I can’t believe he left me out here by myself, she silently fumed. I’ll make him pay for this.
The crunch of a nearby branch drew Kerry’s attention. “Trey,” she whispered, “is that you?” Walking closer, she strained to see through the murky steam. “Trey,” she tried again to no avail.
“Damn,” she muttered, tripping over a fallen tree. Righting herself, she looked up into the gaping mouth of evil.
Screaming and thrashing backward, Kerry tried to run, but the huge beast grabbed her leg and pulled her against itself. “Grrrr,” he shouted in her ear.
Kerry screamed again and then stood dumbstruck when the beast released her and laughed. Looking closely, she saw the thing was naked from the neck down. Stepping closer, she watched while the furry, beastly head was removed to reveal Trey who was laughing so hard he was grasping for breath.
“You bastard,” she hissed, slapping him.
“Come on, Ker, you have to admit it was funny,” Trey replied.
Kerry composed herself and looked down. Smirking, she answered, “The only thing funny around here is that beanie weenie hanging between your legs,” before spinning on her heels and walking away.
Trey looked down and sputtered, “It’s the fog! The cold causes shrinkage, Damnit!” before running after her, following the sound of laughter into the woods.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
The Gates of Paradise
This is my story for the Your Photo Story prompt. Hope y'all like it.
Carrie saw the gates up ahead. She was sure she could push through the pain a little farther and make it to them and then someone would find her.
Stumbling, Carrie fell to one knee, winching in pain when the wound in her stomach reopened. Grabbing a nearby tree for support, she pushed to her feet and began walking toward the gates again.
I can’t believe I shot myself, she thought, holding her stomach, walking hunched over, one step at a time. Daddy would be so disappointed in me, she mused, tears rolling down her cheeks. Eyes blurring, she stopped to catch her breath before continuing. She was so tired. She wanted to sit and rest but knew that was out of the question. You have to keep going, she silently urged, you’ll die if you don’t.
The third time she fell, Carrie could not get back up. She lay there, dazed and motionless. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whispered with her last breath.
Carrie saw the gates up ahead. She was sure she could push through the pain a little farther and make it to them and then someone would find her.
Stumbling, Carrie fell to one knee, winching in pain when the wound in her stomach reopened. Grabbing a nearby tree for support, she pushed to her feet and began walking toward the gates again.
I can’t believe I shot myself, she thought, holding her stomach, walking hunched over, one step at a time. Daddy would be so disappointed in me, she mused, tears rolling down her cheeks. Eyes blurring, she stopped to catch her breath before continuing. She was so tired. She wanted to sit and rest but knew that was out of the question. You have to keep going, she silently urged, you’ll die if you don’t.
The third time she fell, Carrie could not get back up. She lay there, dazed and motionless. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whispered with her last breath.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Sacrifice
This is my contribution to one of the Your Photo Story prompts. It's a little different than my usual work, but not alot.
“Run, children, run!”
Maria hurried the children along, hoping to keep them out of harm’s way. She looked back and saw the death bringer getting closer. Pushing faster, she urged the children under the porch.
Hearing death come ever closer, Maria covered her last child, the only one not under the porch yet, with her body. Maria held the child close and whispered that she loved him with her last breath.
Charles crawled out from under his mother’s lifeless form and watched the death bringer walk away.
“Run, children, run!”
Maria hurried the children along, hoping to keep them out of harm’s way. She looked back and saw the death bringer getting closer. Pushing faster, she urged the children under the porch.
Hearing death come ever closer, Maria covered her last child, the only one not under the porch yet, with her body. Maria held the child close and whispered that she loved him with her last breath.
Charles crawled out from under his mother’s lifeless form and watched the death bringer walk away.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
The Woods
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for the week. Hope y'all like this one. Nobody dies at least...lol
Janet ran for all she was worth. Looking over her shoulder, she tried to find her pursuer. Not seeing him, she rested against an oak tree. Breathing deeply, she looked around for a weapon, anything she could use against the maniac following her.
“Damn,” she muttered, spotting only a small tree branch. “Better than nothing I guess,” she added, picking it up and heading out again.
Janet wasn’t sure which way the road was. She got turned around when the man chased her off the hiking trail. She thought if she ran toward the mountain she’d come upon the road. She only knew one thing for certain: she had to keep moving.
Pushing through the stitch in her side, Janet ran, keeping the mountain in sight the best she could. She stumbled when she noticed clouds gathering and the sun going down. Without the mountain for a guide, she wasn’t sure she would stay on track.
Stop, she silently ordered, you can do this! That bastard is not going to catch you!
“Come out; come out, wherever you are.”
Janet froze at the sound of his voice. She could tell he was only a short distance behind her. Walking quietly, placing each foot to avoid noise, she ducked into a thicket of undergrowth as silently as she could.
The man searched, whispering obscenities and menacing threats while he looked. Janet held her breath, hoping he would walk by her hiding spot. When he stopped right in front of her, she gasped.
“There you are!” he shouted, pushing his hand toward the noise and grabbing her by the hair.
What he failed to notice was the branch in Janet’s hand. While he was busy holding her and sneering into her face, Janet brought the branch up and hit him over the head. The blow only startled him, but that was enough for Janet. She took the opportunity to kick him in the left knee as hard as she could, and then brought her knee into his jaw when he bent over.
“Take that, Bastard,” she shouted, picking a rock up and hitting him in the head, “and that,” she added kicking him in the ribs a few times.
Catching her breath, Janet started running again. Ten minutes later, she found the road. Standing in the middle of the street, she flagged down a pickup truck. The man inside remarked on her disheveled appearance. Janet smiled and said, “You should see the other guy.”
Janet ran for all she was worth. Looking over her shoulder, she tried to find her pursuer. Not seeing him, she rested against an oak tree. Breathing deeply, she looked around for a weapon, anything she could use against the maniac following her.
“Damn,” she muttered, spotting only a small tree branch. “Better than nothing I guess,” she added, picking it up and heading out again.
Janet wasn’t sure which way the road was. She got turned around when the man chased her off the hiking trail. She thought if she ran toward the mountain she’d come upon the road. She only knew one thing for certain: she had to keep moving.
Pushing through the stitch in her side, Janet ran, keeping the mountain in sight the best she could. She stumbled when she noticed clouds gathering and the sun going down. Without the mountain for a guide, she wasn’t sure she would stay on track.
Stop, she silently ordered, you can do this! That bastard is not going to catch you!
“Come out; come out, wherever you are.”
Janet froze at the sound of his voice. She could tell he was only a short distance behind her. Walking quietly, placing each foot to avoid noise, she ducked into a thicket of undergrowth as silently as she could.
The man searched, whispering obscenities and menacing threats while he looked. Janet held her breath, hoping he would walk by her hiding spot. When he stopped right in front of her, she gasped.
“There you are!” he shouted, pushing his hand toward the noise and grabbing her by the hair.
What he failed to notice was the branch in Janet’s hand. While he was busy holding her and sneering into her face, Janet brought the branch up and hit him over the head. The blow only startled him, but that was enough for Janet. She took the opportunity to kick him in the left knee as hard as she could, and then brought her knee into his jaw when he bent over.
“Take that, Bastard,” she shouted, picking a rock up and hitting him in the head, “and that,” she added kicking him in the ribs a few times.
Catching her breath, Janet started running again. Ten minutes later, she found the road. Standing in the middle of the street, she flagged down a pickup truck. The man inside remarked on her disheveled appearance. Janet smiled and said, “You should see the other guy.”
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Inches
This is my contribution to last week's Your Photo Story prompt. Short one this time.
Sergeant Marks grimaced in pity, looking from the gash in her head and following the terror-stricken death gaze of Sandra Johnson. Crouched, he watched light wink off the keys lying a few feet under the car, just out of reach of her outstretched hand.
Sergeant Marks grimaced in pity, looking from the gash in her head and following the terror-stricken death gaze of Sandra Johnson. Crouched, he watched light wink off the keys lying a few feet under the car, just out of reach of her outstretched hand.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Predator
A story for the Your Photo Story blog. I hope y'all like it.
Clancy bared his teeth and howled into the night. Sniffing the air, he caught the scent of his prey and headed into the alley.
Elle watched from behind the dumpster, silently praying he would pass her by. Scrunched tightly into the crevice between the metal trash bin and the door facing of a condemned bakery, she held her breath.
Clancy crashed into a stack of boxes, sending them careening every which way before moving on. He knew she was close, he could smell her, fear permeating the air.
Two drunken revelers staggered into the mouth of the alley, stretching their necks forward, trying to figure out what they were seeing. “I think it’s time to stop drinking,” one commented to the other, dropping the bottle of whiskey he held.
Elle let out an involuntary cry, watching the two men back out of the alley. Clancy rushed toward the whimper.
Nose pushed into the opening between the dumpster and the wall, saliva dripping off his chin, Clancy stared into the eyes of his prey. Frozen in fear, Elle sat, transfixed while the beast pushed the dumpster aside like it weighed nothing.
Pushing backward on all fours, Elle tried futilely to escape. The first bite rendered her immobile. Ripping flesh from bone, Clancy savored his meal. Elle’s screams were drowned out by the merriment up and down Bourbon Street.
Clancy bared his teeth and howled into the night. Sniffing the air, he caught the scent of his prey and headed into the alley.
Elle watched from behind the dumpster, silently praying he would pass her by. Scrunched tightly into the crevice between the metal trash bin and the door facing of a condemned bakery, she held her breath.
Clancy crashed into a stack of boxes, sending them careening every which way before moving on. He knew she was close, he could smell her, fear permeating the air.
Two drunken revelers staggered into the mouth of the alley, stretching their necks forward, trying to figure out what they were seeing. “I think it’s time to stop drinking,” one commented to the other, dropping the bottle of whiskey he held.
Elle let out an involuntary cry, watching the two men back out of the alley. Clancy rushed toward the whimper.
Nose pushed into the opening between the dumpster and the wall, saliva dripping off his chin, Clancy stared into the eyes of his prey. Frozen in fear, Elle sat, transfixed while the beast pushed the dumpster aside like it weighed nothing.
Pushing backward on all fours, Elle tried futilely to escape. The first bite rendered her immobile. Ripping flesh from bone, Clancy savored his meal. Elle’s screams were drowned out by the merriment up and down Bourbon Street.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Playing with Fire
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for July 27th.
Nancy watched flames dance in the evening breeze. An eerie smile graced her face while she slowly poured a line of gasoline from the small campfire to the tent, making sure to douse the outside of the enclosure.
Silently, she circled around the tent and back to the campfire. Once there, she sat the can down and drew a book of matches she had stolen earlier from her pocket. Striking a match, she giggled and dropped it on the line of gas.
She stood, transfixed, watching fire leap from the small blaze and follow the trail she had made to the tent.
“What the hell!” a voice cried from inside the tent.
Nancy giggled once more when the tent zipper refused to open; happy the glue she had applied earlier was working long enough for the fire to catch.
“Nancy!” the man yelled. “Help me!”
“I don’t want to help you tonight, Daddy,” Nancy replied. “I helped you last night remember? You said you’d never felt anything so warm.” Tears running down her cheeks, she added, “I told you it hurt, Daddy. That it burned like fire. You said a little fire never hurt anyone.”
Nancy watched flames dance in the evening breeze. An eerie smile graced her face while she slowly poured a line of gasoline from the small campfire to the tent, making sure to douse the outside of the enclosure.
Silently, she circled around the tent and back to the campfire. Once there, she sat the can down and drew a book of matches she had stolen earlier from her pocket. Striking a match, she giggled and dropped it on the line of gas.
She stood, transfixed, watching fire leap from the small blaze and follow the trail she had made to the tent.
“What the hell!” a voice cried from inside the tent.
Nancy giggled once more when the tent zipper refused to open; happy the glue she had applied earlier was working long enough for the fire to catch.
“Nancy!” the man yelled. “Help me!”
“I don’t want to help you tonight, Daddy,” Nancy replied. “I helped you last night remember? You said you’d never felt anything so warm.” Tears running down her cheeks, she added, “I told you it hurt, Daddy. That it burned like fire. You said a little fire never hurt anyone.”
Daddy's Little Helper
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story photo prompt from July 15th. I'm playing catch up!
Daniel never saw Roy pick the hammer up. One minute he was pounding the last nail into the porch step, and the next he was holding his hand close to his chest, jumping around and howling in pain.
Sandra couldn’t help but laugh. “He was only trying to help,” she sputtered. “You’re always saying you wish he’d do more guy stuff with you,” she added, quickly picking Roy up and heading inside.
Daniel never saw Roy pick the hammer up. One minute he was pounding the last nail into the porch step, and the next he was holding his hand close to his chest, jumping around and howling in pain.
Sandra couldn’t help but laugh. “He was only trying to help,” she sputtered. “You’re always saying you wish he’d do more guy stuff with you,” she added, quickly picking Roy up and heading inside.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
The End
This is the last story I needed to do for the Your Photo Story prompt site to catch up.
Mark heard the rumble and looked up; not knowing it was already too late. He could only watch in horror as piles of boulders slammed down upon him. He tried to issue a warning to those below, but his scream was silenced by one well-placed rock landing on his head. In his last moments, Mark laid helpless, eyes focused on the house below, his wife and son silhouetted in living room window, tears streaming down their faces.
Mark heard the rumble and looked up; not knowing it was already too late. He could only watch in horror as piles of boulders slammed down upon him. He tried to issue a warning to those below, but his scream was silenced by one well-placed rock landing on his head. In his last moments, Mark laid helpless, eyes focused on the house below, his wife and son silhouetted in living room window, tears streaming down their faces.
Lost
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for June 16. I am catching my stories up today.
Tyler stopped to catch his breath, resting against a slab of rock. Standing upright again, he slammed his fist against the granite surface after noticing the map. The same map he had stumbled upon earlier and followed to find his way out of the woods.
“Damnit!” he shouted. “I’ve been going in circles!”
He studied the map once more, trying to figure out where he went wrong. “I don’t understand it, I followed the map exactly,” he mumbled, unfolding the piece of paper he had copied the map onto.
Disgusted, he crumpled the paper and shoved it in his pack. “I’ll find my own way out of these God forsaken woods,” he stated, setting out.
What he failed to notice was a small piece of rock lying on the ground at the base of the granite map that stated: Due to recent erosion and storms, the trail map is no longer correct. A new map will be provided soon.
Tyler stopped to catch his breath, resting against a slab of rock. Standing upright again, he slammed his fist against the granite surface after noticing the map. The same map he had stumbled upon earlier and followed to find his way out of the woods.
“Damnit!” he shouted. “I’ve been going in circles!”
He studied the map once more, trying to figure out where he went wrong. “I don’t understand it, I followed the map exactly,” he mumbled, unfolding the piece of paper he had copied the map onto.
Disgusted, he crumpled the paper and shoved it in his pack. “I’ll find my own way out of these God forsaken woods,” he stated, setting out.
What he failed to notice was a small piece of rock lying on the ground at the base of the granite map that stated: Due to recent erosion and storms, the trail map is no longer correct. A new map will be provided soon.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Forbidden Swim
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for the week.
Amber watched the cool, clear water cascade over the rocks and splash into the stream below. She dipped her toes in the stream, testing the water temperature. Cold but bearable, she thought, scanning the tree line to see if anyone else was around.
Suppressing a girlish giggle, she started unbuttoning her blouse. By the time she was down to her knickers, she was shaking with anticipation. She knew the water was going to feel delicious.
“Aw, heaven,” she murmured, submerging up to her neck.
She swam and frolicked in the water for over an hour before the chill in the air caught her attention. Standing, she quickly covered her breasts and looked around, making sure she was still alone.
She slipped out of her knickers as fast as possible, and then donned her blouse and skirt. With one last, lingering glance at the falls and stream, she sighed and turned for home.
The man in the bushes wiped sweat from his brow. His hands were shaking he was so overworked from what he had just witnessed. “Heaven indeed,” he whispered, watching the woman disappear around the bend.
Amber watched the cool, clear water cascade over the rocks and splash into the stream below. She dipped her toes in the stream, testing the water temperature. Cold but bearable, she thought, scanning the tree line to see if anyone else was around.
Suppressing a girlish giggle, she started unbuttoning her blouse. By the time she was down to her knickers, she was shaking with anticipation. She knew the water was going to feel delicious.
“Aw, heaven,” she murmured, submerging up to her neck.
She swam and frolicked in the water for over an hour before the chill in the air caught her attention. Standing, she quickly covered her breasts and looked around, making sure she was still alone.
She slipped out of her knickers as fast as possible, and then donned her blouse and skirt. With one last, lingering glance at the falls and stream, she sighed and turned for home.
The man in the bushes wiped sweat from his brow. His hands were shaking he was so overworked from what he had just witnessed. “Heaven indeed,” he whispered, watching the woman disappear around the bend.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Reap the Oats You Sow
This is my contribution for this week's Your Photo Story prompt.
Jeb sat on the porch in his rocker, shotgun across his lap. He squinted into the distance, waiting for the first sign of dust to signal Marybeth’s return.
“That girl’s gonna be sorry she was ever born,” he muttered, spitting tobacco in a spittoon by his side.
“Aw, don’t be too hard on her, Jeb,” Sarah said from the doorway. “She’s just sowing her oats.”
“Wild oats, no doubt,” Jeb spat. “With that Williams boy.”
“He’s not a bad boy,” Sarah assured Jeb.
“Never said he was,” Jeb replied. “He’s just not good enough for my little girl.”
“Nobody’s gonna be good enough for Marybeth in your eyes, Jeb.”
“Damn right!” Jeb agreed, and spit another wad into the spittoon.
“She’s grown, Jeb. You gotta let her live her own life.”
“She can live her own life when she has he own house.”
“You never change,” Sarah sighed.
Jeb shrugged, and went back to rocking. Sarah knew there was no talking to him once he made up his mind. She went back in the house, waiting for the fight to come. Because as stubborn as Jeb was, Marybeth had him beat.
A few minutes later, Sarah heard the rocker stop squeaking. She stopped washing dishes, took a deep breath, and waited to hear what happened.
“Where’ve you been, girl?” Jeb demanded as soon as Marybeth and Jacob stepped onto the porch.
“We got married, Pa,” Marybeth said, smile beaming.
“You what!” Jeb shouted, jumping up and engaging the shotgun. “I’m gonna kill you, boy. Say your prayers now.”
“Pa!” Marybeth yelled, stepping in front of Jacob. “Hear me out.”
“I don’t care what you got to say,” Jeb shouted.
“I’m pregnant, Pa,” Marybeth whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. “You’re gonna be a grandpa.”
“I…what?” Jeb sputtered, falling hard into the rocker.
“Oh, baby,” Sarah said, rushing out the door and engulfing Marybeth in a hug. “Are you ok?”
“I’m fine, Ma,” Marybeth said. Pulling Jacob over, she added, “We’re both very happy about this baby.”
“That’s good.” Sarah offered, sliding a glance at Jeb.
“Well, you ain’t raising it here,” Jeb snapped.
“Jeb!” Sarah squealed. “Don’t be that way.”
“It’s ok, Ma. We don’t need to live here. Jacob rented us a place in town.”
Sarah couldn’t help herself. She poked Jeb in the ribs and said, “I guess she can live her own life then, huh?”
Jeb sat on the porch in his rocker, shotgun across his lap. He squinted into the distance, waiting for the first sign of dust to signal Marybeth’s return.
“That girl’s gonna be sorry she was ever born,” he muttered, spitting tobacco in a spittoon by his side.
“Aw, don’t be too hard on her, Jeb,” Sarah said from the doorway. “She’s just sowing her oats.”
“Wild oats, no doubt,” Jeb spat. “With that Williams boy.”
“He’s not a bad boy,” Sarah assured Jeb.
“Never said he was,” Jeb replied. “He’s just not good enough for my little girl.”
“Nobody’s gonna be good enough for Marybeth in your eyes, Jeb.”
“Damn right!” Jeb agreed, and spit another wad into the spittoon.
“She’s grown, Jeb. You gotta let her live her own life.”
“She can live her own life when she has he own house.”
“You never change,” Sarah sighed.
Jeb shrugged, and went back to rocking. Sarah knew there was no talking to him once he made up his mind. She went back in the house, waiting for the fight to come. Because as stubborn as Jeb was, Marybeth had him beat.
A few minutes later, Sarah heard the rocker stop squeaking. She stopped washing dishes, took a deep breath, and waited to hear what happened.
“Where’ve you been, girl?” Jeb demanded as soon as Marybeth and Jacob stepped onto the porch.
“We got married, Pa,” Marybeth said, smile beaming.
“You what!” Jeb shouted, jumping up and engaging the shotgun. “I’m gonna kill you, boy. Say your prayers now.”
“Pa!” Marybeth yelled, stepping in front of Jacob. “Hear me out.”
“I don’t care what you got to say,” Jeb shouted.
“I’m pregnant, Pa,” Marybeth whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. “You’re gonna be a grandpa.”
“I…what?” Jeb sputtered, falling hard into the rocker.
“Oh, baby,” Sarah said, rushing out the door and engulfing Marybeth in a hug. “Are you ok?”
“I’m fine, Ma,” Marybeth said. Pulling Jacob over, she added, “We’re both very happy about this baby.”
“That’s good.” Sarah offered, sliding a glance at Jeb.
“Well, you ain’t raising it here,” Jeb snapped.
“Jeb!” Sarah squealed. “Don’t be that way.”
“It’s ok, Ma. We don’t need to live here. Jacob rented us a place in town.”
Sarah couldn’t help herself. She poked Jeb in the ribs and said, “I guess she can live her own life then, huh?”
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Orders
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for the week. It's very loosely based on truth about my dad.
Terry had stared into the camera, scared to death but trying hard not to show it. He had signed up to be a mechanic, but orders had come down and he was sent to Vietnam. Needless to say, his wife wasn’t happy with the arrangement either.
It turned out the deployment was more than his wife could take. She took the twins and left him, a dear John letter was the least of his worries. She took all his possessions and burned or sold them. She also kept the kids away from him when he came back. He hadn’t seen them since.
He sighed, crumpling the picture in his clinched fist. Looking back, Vietnam had been the best time of his life. People thought he was crazy for doing two tours, but he always asked them what he had to come home to.
Turns out, he was right. His life went straight to hell when he came back to the states. Protesters throwing tomatoes at disembarking soldiers, riots in the streets, and an empty house. If only that had been the worst of it.
Now, here he sat with lung cancer. They told him agent orange was responsible, which meant they’d pay the bills, but what good did that do him? He was still dying. Dying, in a one-room apartment, his only companion a floppy eared hound in dire need of a bath.
A knock at the door startled him. Hobbling over, he looked through the peephole, astonished he had company. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had come by.
“I’ll be damned,” he uttered, grabbing he door handle.
Standing on the other side, smiling shyly, were two mirror images of the picture still clutched in his hand.
Terry had stared into the camera, scared to death but trying hard not to show it. He had signed up to be a mechanic, but orders had come down and he was sent to Vietnam. Needless to say, his wife wasn’t happy with the arrangement either.
It turned out the deployment was more than his wife could take. She took the twins and left him, a dear John letter was the least of his worries. She took all his possessions and burned or sold them. She also kept the kids away from him when he came back. He hadn’t seen them since.
He sighed, crumpling the picture in his clinched fist. Looking back, Vietnam had been the best time of his life. People thought he was crazy for doing two tours, but he always asked them what he had to come home to.
Turns out, he was right. His life went straight to hell when he came back to the states. Protesters throwing tomatoes at disembarking soldiers, riots in the streets, and an empty house. If only that had been the worst of it.
Now, here he sat with lung cancer. They told him agent orange was responsible, which meant they’d pay the bills, but what good did that do him? He was still dying. Dying, in a one-room apartment, his only companion a floppy eared hound in dire need of a bath.
A knock at the door startled him. Hobbling over, he looked through the peephole, astonished he had company. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had come by.
“I’ll be damned,” he uttered, grabbing he door handle.
Standing on the other side, smiling shyly, were two mirror images of the picture still clutched in his hand.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Spread Your Wings
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for the week.
Jake looked out over the horizon, waiting to catch his breath. The trek up the mountain had been hard on him, but he was determined to make it. A tear slipped down his cheek at the beauty nature laid out before him.
He knew people would think him selfish, but he just didn’t want to go on…not this way. The infection was slowly eating away at him from the inside out. The doctors can’t figure out how to stop it, so keep telling him to just take it easy and hope for the best. He knows there is no best though.
He could feel the end coming, and he knows it would not be pleasant, so he decided to take matters into his own hands.
What better way to go out, he thought, gazing at the mountains and valleys surrounding his perch.
“You lose!” he shouted, stepping off the precipice into serenity.
Jake looked out over the horizon, waiting to catch his breath. The trek up the mountain had been hard on him, but he was determined to make it. A tear slipped down his cheek at the beauty nature laid out before him.
He knew people would think him selfish, but he just didn’t want to go on…not this way. The infection was slowly eating away at him from the inside out. The doctors can’t figure out how to stop it, so keep telling him to just take it easy and hope for the best. He knows there is no best though.
He could feel the end coming, and he knows it would not be pleasant, so he decided to take matters into his own hands.
What better way to go out, he thought, gazing at the mountains and valleys surrounding his perch.
“You lose!” he shouted, stepping off the precipice into serenity.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Garden Guests
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for the week.
John stood back and looked at the garden with satisfaction. The perfect rows of corn swaying in the breeze, the tomatoes red and juicy, ready for picking, and the cabbage leaves nice and green. He thought maybe this farming business wasn’t going to be as hard as he once expected.
He was turning to go back inside when movement under a cabbage leaf caught his eye. Stepping closer to investigate, he about jumped out of his skin when a rabbit poked its head out.
“Get out of there,” he yelled, flapping his hat at the animal.
The rabbit hopped away, into the surrounding fields. John decided he might need some fencing around the garden like others had suggested. He sure didn’t want rabbits eating up all his vegetables, so planned to go into town and get some fencing the next day.
The next morning, John was getting in his truck when he noticed something didn’t look right in the garden. On closer inspection, he saw that one whole row of cabbage was destroyed. He could see evidence of teeth marks on the remaining stubs left in the ground.
“Damn rabbits!”
John worked long into the evening installing his newly purchased fence, cursing rabbits the whole time. He was sure the garden was secure once he finished. Rubbing his aching back, he retreated to the comfort of home.
Late that night, a sound woke him from a deep sleep. Climbing unsteadily to his feet, he looked out the kitchen window.
“I’ll be damned,” he sputtered, watching rabbits hop all around the cabbage rows. “I don’t know how you got in there, you little bastards, but I’m gonna teach you a lesson,” he whispered, grabbing his shotgun.
Not even stopping to dress, John ran outside. He was in such a hurry, he forgot the front steps were lose and tumbled down them head over heels, landing on the left over fencing material he was going to get rid of the next morning.
After pushing to his feet, John shook his head to clear it. Seeing another cabbage leaf in the garden become rabbit food, his blood boiled. He let out a roar and started forward, entangling both feet in fence wire.
This time when he fell, his head hit the sledgehammer he had used to pound the fence posts into the ground, cracking his skull and ending his troubles.
The rabbits watched to see if the human would move again. Finally, they decided it was safe and resumed dinner.
John stood back and looked at the garden with satisfaction. The perfect rows of corn swaying in the breeze, the tomatoes red and juicy, ready for picking, and the cabbage leaves nice and green. He thought maybe this farming business wasn’t going to be as hard as he once expected.
He was turning to go back inside when movement under a cabbage leaf caught his eye. Stepping closer to investigate, he about jumped out of his skin when a rabbit poked its head out.
“Get out of there,” he yelled, flapping his hat at the animal.
The rabbit hopped away, into the surrounding fields. John decided he might need some fencing around the garden like others had suggested. He sure didn’t want rabbits eating up all his vegetables, so planned to go into town and get some fencing the next day.
The next morning, John was getting in his truck when he noticed something didn’t look right in the garden. On closer inspection, he saw that one whole row of cabbage was destroyed. He could see evidence of teeth marks on the remaining stubs left in the ground.
“Damn rabbits!”
John worked long into the evening installing his newly purchased fence, cursing rabbits the whole time. He was sure the garden was secure once he finished. Rubbing his aching back, he retreated to the comfort of home.
Late that night, a sound woke him from a deep sleep. Climbing unsteadily to his feet, he looked out the kitchen window.
“I’ll be damned,” he sputtered, watching rabbits hop all around the cabbage rows. “I don’t know how you got in there, you little bastards, but I’m gonna teach you a lesson,” he whispered, grabbing his shotgun.
Not even stopping to dress, John ran outside. He was in such a hurry, he forgot the front steps were lose and tumbled down them head over heels, landing on the left over fencing material he was going to get rid of the next morning.
After pushing to his feet, John shook his head to clear it. Seeing another cabbage leaf in the garden become rabbit food, his blood boiled. He let out a roar and started forward, entangling both feet in fence wire.
This time when he fell, his head hit the sledgehammer he had used to pound the fence posts into the ground, cracking his skull and ending his troubles.
The rabbits watched to see if the human would move again. Finally, they decided it was safe and resumed dinner.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Daddy's Belt
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for the week. I bet this one is something alot of people can relate to in one way or another.
Amelia stares at the belt, goose bumps popping out on her arms. She doesn’t move though. She knows to run will bring worse consequences than standing and taking her punishment like a man.
She remembers the day she asked her father how she could take it like a man when she was a girl. She never made that mistake again. Rubbing her leg, she winces while thinking about the welt he had left that took three weeks to heal.
Cringing when the screen door slams, Amelia calmly walks to the belt. Pulling it off the hook, she carries it outside to her father who was waiting behind the barn. He takes the belt, sits down on the oak stump, and pats his lap. Amelia lies across his legs, waiting for the first stinging thwack.
Jerking, but being sure to make no noise, Amelia endures her punishment. She is confused when her father stops at three smacks, expecting the usual five. Suddenly, she finds herself in the dirt at her father’s feet. Looking up, she sees him clinch his chest and fall backward over the stump.
“Come along, Amelia.”
“I’m coming, Mama,” Amelia replies, stepping to her side. “Here,” she says, thrusting something into her mother’s hand. “I didn’t want them to forget daddy’s belt,” she smiles, and wonders at the tear running down her mother’s cheek.
Amelia stares at the belt, goose bumps popping out on her arms. She doesn’t move though. She knows to run will bring worse consequences than standing and taking her punishment like a man.
She remembers the day she asked her father how she could take it like a man when she was a girl. She never made that mistake again. Rubbing her leg, she winces while thinking about the welt he had left that took three weeks to heal.
Cringing when the screen door slams, Amelia calmly walks to the belt. Pulling it off the hook, she carries it outside to her father who was waiting behind the barn. He takes the belt, sits down on the oak stump, and pats his lap. Amelia lies across his legs, waiting for the first stinging thwack.
Jerking, but being sure to make no noise, Amelia endures her punishment. She is confused when her father stops at three smacks, expecting the usual five. Suddenly, she finds herself in the dirt at her father’s feet. Looking up, she sees him clinch his chest and fall backward over the stump.
***
“Come along, Amelia.”
“I’m coming, Mama,” Amelia replies, stepping to her side. “Here,” she says, thrusting something into her mother’s hand. “I didn’t want them to forget daddy’s belt,” she smiles, and wonders at the tear running down her mother’s cheek.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Troll Under the Bridge
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for the week. A new take on an old tale.
“We can’t cross it,” Sherrie whispered to Rachel. “He’ll get us if we do!”
“Don’t be silly, Sherrie. There is no troll under this bridge. That was just a fairy tale.”
Sherrie studied the old bridge, trying to see underneath without actually getting any closer. She knew Rachel thought she was being a baby, but that troll under the bridge story really scared her. This bridge looked old enough a troll would like it, so she was not crossing it first.
“You go first then,” she told Rachel, pushing her forward.
“Oh, alright!” Rachel said, throwing her hands up in frustration. “You’ll see there’s nothing under this old bridge.
Rachel stepped to the edge of the bridge and halted. She would never admit it to Sherrie, but the story got to her a little too. She didn’t really believe trolls lived under bridges, but this one was old and rotten looking.
Drawing a deep breath, Rachel made the first step onto the bridge. It creaked under her weight, but nothing jumped out, so she proceeded. Sherrie watched, warily eyeing the bushes under the bridge for any sign of movement.
Rachel made it half way across, when a terrible thrashing ensued under the bridge. She screamed, ran back to Sherrie, grabbed her hand, and led her back toward home.
Neither of them noticed the family of rabbits hop from under the bridge and flee into the woods.
“We can’t cross it,” Sherrie whispered to Rachel. “He’ll get us if we do!”
“Don’t be silly, Sherrie. There is no troll under this bridge. That was just a fairy tale.”
Sherrie studied the old bridge, trying to see underneath without actually getting any closer. She knew Rachel thought she was being a baby, but that troll under the bridge story really scared her. This bridge looked old enough a troll would like it, so she was not crossing it first.
“You go first then,” she told Rachel, pushing her forward.
“Oh, alright!” Rachel said, throwing her hands up in frustration. “You’ll see there’s nothing under this old bridge.
Rachel stepped to the edge of the bridge and halted. She would never admit it to Sherrie, but the story got to her a little too. She didn’t really believe trolls lived under bridges, but this one was old and rotten looking.
Drawing a deep breath, Rachel made the first step onto the bridge. It creaked under her weight, but nothing jumped out, so she proceeded. Sherrie watched, warily eyeing the bushes under the bridge for any sign of movement.
Rachel made it half way across, when a terrible thrashing ensued under the bridge. She screamed, ran back to Sherrie, grabbed her hand, and led her back toward home.
Neither of them noticed the family of rabbits hop from under the bridge and flee into the woods.
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