I put together 3 different micro fiction pieces for the Three Word Wednesday prompt this week. I hope y'all like at least one of them!
#1
Frankie noticed with frustration the gradual abandonment of precise, surgical cuts in favor of larger, haphazard gashes the assailant had left on the body that signified they would have caught the bastard in the act if not for the afternoon traffic snarl on Fifth.
#2
The gradual abandonment of moral values led the small town to accept into their midst the precise monster stauncher proponents of strict rules of propriety would have stopped in his tracks. The rise in revenue kept him there.
#3
A gradual, precise technique wrought specific, trusted results. Unfortunately, scientists in the Omnicore Lab had been told to speed things up, abandon normal protocols and get the product to market. Sam Grimes, one such scientist, watched in horror as the local news reported yet another breakout of a disease of unknown origin in the BellsTown high school. Shakily raising his hand, he cocked the gun and said one last prayer, ending the torture, unable to watch one more child die in the name of expediency.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Up in Smoke
This is my micro fiction entry for the Three Word Wednesday prompt.
Jared knew to pacify the demons he would have to do it again. He didn’t want to. Dread filled him at the thought, but he knew he had no other choice. He couldn’t fight it any longer. Fingers shaking, he lit the cigarette, his fragile grasp on willpower broken.
Jared knew to pacify the demons he would have to do it again. He didn’t want to. Dread filled him at the thought, but he knew he had no other choice. He couldn’t fight it any longer. Fingers shaking, he lit the cigarette, his fragile grasp on willpower broken.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Dying...Almost
My story for the Three Word Wednesday prompt. Actually a little long for me this time!
“It’s a strange thing really, dying,” Renee whispered. “You feel almost weightless, the fear suddenly stops and you’re just sorta floating there in your body, although you aren’t really, you know, nobody can really float.”
She paused to swat a fly she could no longer ignore before continuing, “Thought I’d be done with flies after I died. I had enough of flies living in the alley, what with all the moldy food lying around. But then again, I didn’t die, did I?” she shrugged at the officer who had saved her life at the last moment. Rubbing the red welts around her throat, she then whispered, “Officer, do you think there are flies in Heaven?”
Bending closer to hear her clearly, and not certain what to say, the officer replied, “I’m not sure, Ma’am, but if they are I’m sure they don’t bother anyone.”
The slap of her hand hitting the bedside table startled the young officer so much he yelped and staggered backward, bumping into a nurse who had just entered to take vital signs.
“That’ll be nice,” Renee whispered, wiping her hand on the sheet, oblivious to the scare she’d given the man. “When I do really get there.”
“It’s a strange thing really, dying,” Renee whispered. “You feel almost weightless, the fear suddenly stops and you’re just sorta floating there in your body, although you aren’t really, you know, nobody can really float.”
She paused to swat a fly she could no longer ignore before continuing, “Thought I’d be done with flies after I died. I had enough of flies living in the alley, what with all the moldy food lying around. But then again, I didn’t die, did I?” she shrugged at the officer who had saved her life at the last moment. Rubbing the red welts around her throat, she then whispered, “Officer, do you think there are flies in Heaven?”
Bending closer to hear her clearly, and not certain what to say, the officer replied, “I’m not sure, Ma’am, but if they are I’m sure they don’t bother anyone.”
The slap of her hand hitting the bedside table startled the young officer so much he yelped and staggered backward, bumping into a nurse who had just entered to take vital signs.
“That’ll be nice,” Renee whispered, wiping her hand on the sheet, oblivious to the scare she’d given the man. “When I do really get there.”
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Faceless
This is my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt for the week. Hope y'all like it!
Michael found it easy to negotiate the ebb and flow. He was just another random commuter, busy getting from one place to another. No one paid any attention when he dropped the paper bag, not, that is, until the explosion later that night. By that time, Michael was safely back home, watching events unfold on television like the rest of the world.
Michael found it easy to negotiate the ebb and flow. He was just another random commuter, busy getting from one place to another. No one paid any attention when he dropped the paper bag, not, that is, until the explosion later that night. By that time, Michael was safely back home, watching events unfold on television like the rest of the world.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
You can't win them all
I did two micro fiction stories for the Three Word Wednesday prompt this week. I couldn't decide which one I liked best.
Randy had a hunch his sacrifice wasn’t going to be given much consideration when Mark snapped a caustic, “Will you hurry the hell up, they’ll be home before we get done,” while sitting on top of the ledge, the impression from his boot heel permanently engraved on Randy’s head.
Shelly hunched her shoulders and rushed forward, knocking the man holding her hostage into a table holding beakers full of caustic substances. Twitching on the floor, secure in the knowledge security precautions had put the entire facility into lockdown, she watched the man jerk, blood seeping from his nose and ears as he inhaled his last breath and knew her sacrifice had been worth it.
Randy had a hunch his sacrifice wasn’t going to be given much consideration when Mark snapped a caustic, “Will you hurry the hell up, they’ll be home before we get done,” while sitting on top of the ledge, the impression from his boot heel permanently engraved on Randy’s head.
Shelly hunched her shoulders and rushed forward, knocking the man holding her hostage into a table holding beakers full of caustic substances. Twitching on the floor, secure in the knowledge security precautions had put the entire facility into lockdown, she watched the man jerk, blood seeping from his nose and ears as he inhaled his last breath and knew her sacrifice had been worth it.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Dissatisfaction
This week's Three Word Wednesday micro fiction piece:
Mac pushed the shard deeper into Jenkins chest. Once the twitching and moaning stopped, he checked for a pulse. Satisfied the man was dead, he heaved a weary sigh, collected all his tools and left, hoping the next assignment would offer at least a glimmer of excitement or he feared his heart was going to stop beating too.
Mac pushed the shard deeper into Jenkins chest. Once the twitching and moaning stopped, he checked for a pulse. Satisfied the man was dead, he heaved a weary sigh, collected all his tools and left, hoping the next assignment would offer at least a glimmer of excitement or he feared his heart was going to stop beating too.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Disguise
Here's my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt.
Teri had to modify the mutinous expression she wore that held secrets to the pain she was soon going to inflict, drop a veil over her real feelings and smile like the obedient little wife she was supposed to be.
Teri had to modify the mutinous expression she wore that held secrets to the pain she was soon going to inflict, drop a veil over her real feelings and smile like the obedient little wife she was supposed to be.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Playing the Hand You're Dealt
Here's my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt for the week. Hope y'all enjoy it.
Trixie leaned forward, made the necessary adjustments, stood up and checked herself in the storefront window. A little tease here, a little fluff there and she was all set. Heading down the sidewalk, she frowned at Baby, all overflowing from the bustier she wore every night. She never has to worry that she won’t generate enough money to pay Buff and the rent, Trixie silently vented, standing up straighter to amplify the meager endowments she’d been blessed with.
A wolf whistle sliced the air and Trixie sauntered over, propped herself in the window and began negations. I guess some guys still ascribe to the saying that more than a mouthful is too much, she thought, forcing a smile.
Trixie leaned forward, made the necessary adjustments, stood up and checked herself in the storefront window. A little tease here, a little fluff there and she was all set. Heading down the sidewalk, she frowned at Baby, all overflowing from the bustier she wore every night. She never has to worry that she won’t generate enough money to pay Buff and the rent, Trixie silently vented, standing up straighter to amplify the meager endowments she’d been blessed with.
A wolf whistle sliced the air and Trixie sauntered over, propped herself in the window and began negations. I guess some guys still ascribe to the saying that more than a mouthful is too much, she thought, forcing a smile.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
False Fricassee
My micro fiction piece for the Three Word Wednesday prompt this week. More lighthearted than usual, but I hope y'all enjoy it.
Celeste took a ragged breath. Squaring her shoulders, she began to tidy up. Hearing the doorbell, she admired her reflection in the mirrored surface of the oven. Blowing herself a kiss, she headed to open the door for a night she was sure would be the beginning of something wonderful, not aware of the pending disaster that would occur if her guest, renowned chef Pierre Blush, noticed the takeout box peaking from the trash bin.
Celeste took a ragged breath. Squaring her shoulders, she began to tidy up. Hearing the doorbell, she admired her reflection in the mirrored surface of the oven. Blowing herself a kiss, she headed to open the door for a night she was sure would be the beginning of something wonderful, not aware of the pending disaster that would occur if her guest, renowned chef Pierre Blush, noticed the takeout box peaking from the trash bin.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Reaction
This is my contribution for the Three Word Wednesday prompt. Micro fiction piece this week. Hope y'all like it.
In her rare lucid moments, between the alcohol binges and crying jags, Sandra knew she should push her righteous indignation aside and salvage what was left of her marriage. Unfortunately for Mark, who was staring down the barrel of a .45, tonight was not one of those moments.
In her rare lucid moments, between the alcohol binges and crying jags, Sandra knew she should push her righteous indignation aside and salvage what was left of her marriage. Unfortunately for Mark, who was staring down the barrel of a .45, tonight was not one of those moments.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Pain
My contribution to the Simply Snickers poetry prompt for the week.
Sadness surrounds the soul
Hues of pain…purples, greens and blues
Mindless emotion controls
No energy left to choose
Sadness surrounds the soul
Hues of pain…purples, greens and blues
Mindless emotion controls
No energy left to choose
Friday, February 5, 2010
Deadly Consequences
This is a story I wrote for Sevastian's Short Story Thursday contest on facebook. I hope y'all enjoy it.
Jake Everson woke up one day in St. Barts and picked up the newspaper to discover he'd died that morning in Spain. He chuckled softly, burrowing deep into the covers and continued to read of his demise.
“At least I made the front page,” he snickered, reading about the accident that had supposedly taken not only his life, but the life of his wife Marie as well. His smile widened when he read about the injuries Marie had suffered. “Serves the bitch right,” he muttered, rereading the part about the skin being scorched off her face in the blaze. “Now both of her faces are gone.”
Putting the paper down, he swung his feet over the side of the bed and stretched. The sun shining through the windows sent a surge through him, reminding him of the engagement he had at noon. Pushing to his feet, he headed to the shower, whistling all the way.
He couldn’t help but congratulate himself on a job well done while soaping up. Marie thought she was so smart, he mused, cheating on me with that bastard James. And James, pretending to be my best friend. Guess he wishes he’d dicked around with another man’s wife now.
While dressing, Jake thought back to the encounter last night with James and Marie. He’d walked in on them, slap dab in the middle of a secret rendezvous. He let James thrust a few more times before making his presence known by pushing the barrel of his 9mm into the small of the man’s back. He laughed aloud, remembering the expressions on their faces.
They had stumbled over each other trying to explain. As if I didn’t have eyes, he thought, disgusted all over again. I played my part well though. The distraught husband, bawling over an unfaithful wife and the lies of a friend. I can’t believe they bought the shit I was spewing.
Jake shook his head, confounded at the stupidity of some people. Although, in this case, their stupidity had worked in his favor. He remembered how hard it was to contain a smile while screaming for the pair to get out of his sight, waving the gun wildly to make sure they complied.
After they left, he got the bags he’d packed earlier and headed to the airport, thanking his lucky stars he knew some unsavory types who were able to secure a fake passport for him. He couldn’t believe Marie had had the nerve to judge the clients he worked with, all the while slapping uglies with James. She always thought she was so smart, right until the end.
He wished he could have seen the look on their faces when they realized the brakes weren’t working. The paper had talked about the swerve marks on the road and the chipped off rock faces along the route the car had taken before busting through the guardrail and crashing in the cavern below.
Jake hadn’t been worried about the outcome. The road leading from their house to the bottom of the hill was one curve after another and steep as hell. Without brakes, there was no other way a car could end up but at the bottom of the cavern. The jug of gasoline he’d put in the trunk before going into the house to confront the bastards was just the icing on the cake. He had admired the fire that lit the night sky on his way past the carnage.
Pulling into the parking lot of an upscale hotel, Jake checked his hair and straightened his tie. He knew the authorities might eventually figure out it wasn’t him in the wreck, if they found the cut brake line, but, in his line of business they’d just assume a disgruntled client was responsible and might not even check DNA on the bodies, instead, just chalk it up to business as usual.
Spotting Julia across the restaurant, he smiled and decided the risk was worth it. Her beauty lit up the room and he was sure it would look even better on the beach in whatever out-of-the-way destination they picked to retire to. They’d be long gone before the police even thought to look their way.
“Hello, Beautiful,” he offered, kissing Julia on the cheek.
“Hello, yourself,” she replied, beaming up at him. “You look like the cat that ate the canary.”
After sitting down, Jake laughed, picked her hand up off the table and held it. “What can I say? I’m sitting with a gorgeous lady, in a five-star restaurant in one of the most beautiful places on earth.”
Julia laughed, “Oh, and it wouldn’t have anything to do with these, huh?” she asked, passing two airline tickets across the table.
Jake looked at the tickets and whistled, “First class.”
James’s wife smiled sweetly, replied, “James only buys the best,” and toasted Jake with her champagne glass.
Jake Everson woke up one day in St. Barts and picked up the newspaper to discover he'd died that morning in Spain. He chuckled softly, burrowing deep into the covers and continued to read of his demise.
“At least I made the front page,” he snickered, reading about the accident that had supposedly taken not only his life, but the life of his wife Marie as well. His smile widened when he read about the injuries Marie had suffered. “Serves the bitch right,” he muttered, rereading the part about the skin being scorched off her face in the blaze. “Now both of her faces are gone.”
Putting the paper down, he swung his feet over the side of the bed and stretched. The sun shining through the windows sent a surge through him, reminding him of the engagement he had at noon. Pushing to his feet, he headed to the shower, whistling all the way.
He couldn’t help but congratulate himself on a job well done while soaping up. Marie thought she was so smart, he mused, cheating on me with that bastard James. And James, pretending to be my best friend. Guess he wishes he’d dicked around with another man’s wife now.
While dressing, Jake thought back to the encounter last night with James and Marie. He’d walked in on them, slap dab in the middle of a secret rendezvous. He let James thrust a few more times before making his presence known by pushing the barrel of his 9mm into the small of the man’s back. He laughed aloud, remembering the expressions on their faces.
They had stumbled over each other trying to explain. As if I didn’t have eyes, he thought, disgusted all over again. I played my part well though. The distraught husband, bawling over an unfaithful wife and the lies of a friend. I can’t believe they bought the shit I was spewing.
Jake shook his head, confounded at the stupidity of some people. Although, in this case, their stupidity had worked in his favor. He remembered how hard it was to contain a smile while screaming for the pair to get out of his sight, waving the gun wildly to make sure they complied.
After they left, he got the bags he’d packed earlier and headed to the airport, thanking his lucky stars he knew some unsavory types who were able to secure a fake passport for him. He couldn’t believe Marie had had the nerve to judge the clients he worked with, all the while slapping uglies with James. She always thought she was so smart, right until the end.
He wished he could have seen the look on their faces when they realized the brakes weren’t working. The paper had talked about the swerve marks on the road and the chipped off rock faces along the route the car had taken before busting through the guardrail and crashing in the cavern below.
Jake hadn’t been worried about the outcome. The road leading from their house to the bottom of the hill was one curve after another and steep as hell. Without brakes, there was no other way a car could end up but at the bottom of the cavern. The jug of gasoline he’d put in the trunk before going into the house to confront the bastards was just the icing on the cake. He had admired the fire that lit the night sky on his way past the carnage.
Pulling into the parking lot of an upscale hotel, Jake checked his hair and straightened his tie. He knew the authorities might eventually figure out it wasn’t him in the wreck, if they found the cut brake line, but, in his line of business they’d just assume a disgruntled client was responsible and might not even check DNA on the bodies, instead, just chalk it up to business as usual.
Spotting Julia across the restaurant, he smiled and decided the risk was worth it. Her beauty lit up the room and he was sure it would look even better on the beach in whatever out-of-the-way destination they picked to retire to. They’d be long gone before the police even thought to look their way.
“Hello, Beautiful,” he offered, kissing Julia on the cheek.
“Hello, yourself,” she replied, beaming up at him. “You look like the cat that ate the canary.”
After sitting down, Jake laughed, picked her hand up off the table and held it. “What can I say? I’m sitting with a gorgeous lady, in a five-star restaurant in one of the most beautiful places on earth.”
Julia laughed, “Oh, and it wouldn’t have anything to do with these, huh?” she asked, passing two airline tickets across the table.
Jake looked at the tickets and whistled, “First class.”
James’s wife smiled sweetly, replied, “James only buys the best,” and toasted Jake with her champagne glass.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Seeing Yourself Clearly
This is my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt. Hope y'all like it!
“You shouldn’t be worrying with breakfast,” Tyler said, kissing his mother on the cheek and squeezing her arm in reassurance. “We can fend for ourselves.”
“I know you can, dear, but I need something to do,” she replied, wiping a tear from her eye. “I have to stay busy.”
“I understand. It was always that way,” Tyler agreed, remembering other breakfasts during times of crisis, with his mother working furiously at the stove, taking care of everyone else. “But this time is different.”
“We all grieve in our own way, Tyler.”
He knew that tone of voice. His mother was telling him to back off in her own unique way. Tyler couldn’t remember a time in his life when his mother wasn’t a beacon of strength. Everyone thought his father kept the family together, but Tyler knew different. He knew if the roles were reversed, and his father was here today instead of his mother, the whole clan would unravel at the seams.
“Uncle Tyler! Uncle Tyler!”
“Hey, buddy,” Tyler replied, scooping his four-year old nephew up in a bear hug. “What’s up?”
“Will you play outside with us? Everybody else is too busy.”
“Well, buddy, I don’t know,” Tyler said, watching his sisters walk into the room, eyes red-rimmed. “I think your mommy might need me.”
“Eva, Cheryl,” Tyler greeted them. “How are you two holding up?”
“As well as can be expected, I guess,” Eva replied, choking up.
Tyler crossed the room and took her in his arms. “We’ll make it through this, Sis. It won’t be easy, but we will. Dad would want us to.”
Cheryl patted his cheek, said, “You and mom, we always know we can count on you. Kindred spirits, responsible for taking care of the rest of us.”
Tyler smiled sheepishly, glancing at his mom serving up the eggs, realizing for the first time that he was his mother’s son.
“You shouldn’t be worrying with breakfast,” Tyler said, kissing his mother on the cheek and squeezing her arm in reassurance. “We can fend for ourselves.”
“I know you can, dear, but I need something to do,” she replied, wiping a tear from her eye. “I have to stay busy.”
“I understand. It was always that way,” Tyler agreed, remembering other breakfasts during times of crisis, with his mother working furiously at the stove, taking care of everyone else. “But this time is different.”
“We all grieve in our own way, Tyler.”
He knew that tone of voice. His mother was telling him to back off in her own unique way. Tyler couldn’t remember a time in his life when his mother wasn’t a beacon of strength. Everyone thought his father kept the family together, but Tyler knew different. He knew if the roles were reversed, and his father was here today instead of his mother, the whole clan would unravel at the seams.
“Uncle Tyler! Uncle Tyler!”
“Hey, buddy,” Tyler replied, scooping his four-year old nephew up in a bear hug. “What’s up?”
“Will you play outside with us? Everybody else is too busy.”
“Well, buddy, I don’t know,” Tyler said, watching his sisters walk into the room, eyes red-rimmed. “I think your mommy might need me.”
“Eva, Cheryl,” Tyler greeted them. “How are you two holding up?”
“As well as can be expected, I guess,” Eva replied, choking up.
Tyler crossed the room and took her in his arms. “We’ll make it through this, Sis. It won’t be easy, but we will. Dad would want us to.”
Cheryl patted his cheek, said, “You and mom, we always know we can count on you. Kindred spirits, responsible for taking care of the rest of us.”
Tyler smiled sheepishly, glancing at his mom serving up the eggs, realizing for the first time that he was his mother’s son.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Splishing and Splashing
"Come on, Granny!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming," Granny laughed, not minding the incessant pulling on her hand.
"I wanna turn the water on," Maggie said, rushing to the faucet, tripping over the hose in the process. Picking herself up and brushing her knees off, she continued undeterred. A little fall wasn't about to keep Maggie out of the pool today. She had been waiting all week for the rain to
so she could splash in the little pink pool Granny had bought.
"Are you okay?" Granny asked.
"I'm okay," Maggie assured her, turning toward the house to hide the trickle of blood seeping down her skinned knee.
Read more here...
"I'm coming, I'm coming," Granny laughed, not minding the incessant pulling on her hand.
"I wanna turn the water on," Maggie said, rushing to the faucet, tripping over the hose in the process. Picking herself up and brushing her knees off, she continued undeterred. A little fall wasn't about to keep Maggie out of the pool today. She had been waiting all week for the rain to
so she could splash in the little pink pool Granny had bought.
"Are you okay?" Granny asked.
"I'm okay," Maggie assured her, turning toward the house to hide the trickle of blood seeping down her skinned knee.
Read more here...
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Til Death do Us Part
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony," the preacher intoned, gazing around the church, smiling at familiar faces.
Both families had been coming to services at the church for years so the preacher was overjoyed to be uniting them through the marriage of the two youngest members of each group. He remembered the night four years ago when he pronounced to his wife his certainty the two would wed. He had spied a smoldering glance from Tom and watched Irene's face flame red. He knew then it was only a matter of time.
Read more here...you might be surprised!
Both families had been coming to services at the church for years so the preacher was overjoyed to be uniting them through the marriage of the two youngest members of each group. He remembered the night four years ago when he pronounced to his wife his certainty the two would wed. He had spied a smoldering glance from Tom and watched Irene's face flame red. He knew then it was only a matter of time.
Read more here...you might be surprised!
Friday, December 18, 2009
The First Time
“Here, let me help.”
“I can do it.”
“I can help hold it.”
“I said I can do it!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
“I don’t think you’re doing it right.”
“Hold on a minute, I’ll get it.”
“Ouch! That hurt!”
“Sorry, baby, I’m trying.”
“Haven’t you ever done this before?”
“No.”
“What!”
“I didn’t think it’d be this hard.”
“Maybe you should have asked someone how to do it.”
“I am not asking someone how to do this. I’ll figure it out.”
“How long will it take? I’m ready!”
“If you’d be still, it’d go a lot faster.”
“I’m trying to be still, but it hurts!”
“There, I think I’ve got it.”
“It’s crooked!”
“So?”
“Daddy! I can’t go to school with a crooked ponytail!”
“I can do it.”
“I can help hold it.”
“I said I can do it!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
“I don’t think you’re doing it right.”
“Hold on a minute, I’ll get it.”
“Ouch! That hurt!”
“Sorry, baby, I’m trying.”
“Haven’t you ever done this before?”
“No.”
“What!”
“I didn’t think it’d be this hard.”
“Maybe you should have asked someone how to do it.”
“I am not asking someone how to do this. I’ll figure it out.”
“How long will it take? I’m ready!”
“If you’d be still, it’d go a lot faster.”
“I’m trying to be still, but it hurts!”
“There, I think I’ve got it.”
“It’s crooked!”
“So?”
“Daddy! I can’t go to school with a crooked ponytail!”
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Christmas Wishes
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.”
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.”
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.
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