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.
Friday, February 5, 2010
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.
The Price of Beauty
This is my contribution to this weeks Three Word Wednesday prompt.
It was a grave offence to all things good and decent that she had to forgo the decadent chocolate éclair beckoning from the dessert tray, but offended or not, Gwyneth wanted to keep the lithe figure all the fashion magazines paid big bucks for so she squared her shoulders and ordered a bowl of strawberries instead.
It was a grave offence to all things good and decent that she had to forgo the decadent chocolate éclair beckoning from the dessert tray, but offended or not, Gwyneth wanted to keep the lithe figure all the fashion magazines paid big bucks for so she squared her shoulders and ordered a bowl of strawberries instead.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Banquet for Three
This is my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt for the week. I haven't did the prompt in a while, but hope to get back into it. Hope y'all like this little micro-fiction piece.
Eric was enjoying a sumptuous feast of strawberries dipped in chocolate sauce, dribbling sauce in strategic places, stopping to fondle sweet tasting morsels, when a sudden kick reminded him of what happened the last time he partook of this particular feast.
Eric was enjoying a sumptuous feast of strawberries dipped in chocolate sauce, dribbling sauce in strategic places, stopping to fondle sweet tasting morsels, when a sudden kick reminded him of what happened the last time he partook of this particular feast.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Her Own Little World
Dear Mama,
I hope you’re doing better. I know the surgery was hard on you. Are they treating you ok there? I sure hope so. We are going to try to come see you this summer. I’m saving up a little money each week for the trip. I sure do miss you.
I hope you aren’t too bored there. Are you still doing arts and crafts? I loved the clay mug you sent me for Christmas. I have it sitting on the fireplace mantel for everyone to see. They all talk about how pretty it is, and how much talent you have. I told them you always loved working with your hands and making stuff. I remember the wood flower boxes we made when I was first married. I hated when they got tore up in the storm in ’93.
I hope you’re doing what the doctors say and staying off your feet. Your hip will never heal if you overdo it. If you’d quit chasing all those old guys around the halls you wouldn’t have accidents. Ha Ha I’m sure the men would be very disappointed though, if the most beautiful lady in the place stopped paying attention to them.
Everything is fine here. The kids are growing like weeds. Robbie is already as tall as I am, and Cassie is up to my chin. I’m glad they are taking height after their dad, but I do miss them being little. Before I know it, they will be grown and gone. I know what you meant now when you told me to cherish every moment so I can look back on them when the kids are gone. They have already changed so much. It about broke my heart when Robbie told me not to hug him in front of his friends anymore.
They are still enjoying school, thank goodness! I don’t know what we’d do if they hated going like some kids. Of course, they are still in grade school. I’m sure things will change once they reach high school.
Robbie was in a play last week. He was a tree. You should have seen him. He practiced standing still every day for a month. It paid off. He was the best tree ever!
Cassie wanted to water him every time he put the tree costume on. She was so cute, chasing him around the house with her little watering can. I had to break up quite a few fights…when I was able to stop laughing. Sorry, I didn’t think to take any pictures to send you.
Doug is still working at the plant. He signs up for overtime whenever they offer it, which isn’t often these days. Don’t worry though, because we are doing just fine. We have food on the table and a roof over our heads. You always taught me those were the most important things. I try to pass this along to the children when they want some new toy we can’t afford. I was worried I wasn’t getting through to them, until the other day when Cassie told me she was saving all the pennies she finds on the ground to help with the house payment. Although it broke my heart for her to know about our money problems, it made me proud to see her generosity.
You aren’t going to believe this, but I’ve started crocheting. Do you remember when I was a kid and you tried to teach me to crochet? I gave you such a hard time! I guess I just needed more patience before I could enjoy it. Now, my house is covered with things I’ve made. I’m sending you a doll. I hope you like it. I made her dress peach because I know how much you love the color. I’ve even sold a few things at the local craft fair. Any little extra bit helps.
Cassie swears she is going to learn how to do it with me. She wants to make clothes for her dolls, and for Snickers. She carries that dog around so much I’m surprised he knows he has feet! She treats him like a baby and he just eats it up. I have to admit, he looked cute in the little sunglasses she put on him the other day. She wants to dress him up like a hotdog for Halloween. I’m hoping I can talk her into something more original.
I saw Jack the other day. He only stopped by for a few minutes, but it was nice. Sherri and the kids are doing fine he said. They were all going to the mountains for the weekend. He looked good. I think being a salesman agrees with him. He said they were doing better than they have been in a long time. I sure was glad to hear it. For a while there, I thought him and Sherri weren’t going to make it. I’m glad they turned things around.
I told him he should write you more often. He promised he would. We’ll have to hold him to that promise, so you let me know if he writes or not.
He showed me pictures of Tammy and Heather. They are both so beautiful. He said he has to fight the boys off with a stick. Ha Ha He is such the proud papa when he talks about those girls. I can’t believe they’ll be graduating this year!
Time sure does fly, doesn’t it? I remember when the girls were in pigtails, rummaging in my closet to play dress up. Now, they wouldn’t be caught dead in anything I own. I’m not stylish enough for them anymore.
It seems I spend a lot of time thinking about the past these days, remembering good times we all had together. I hate we can’t all be together again. I guess that’s what happens when you get older.
Well, it’s almost suppertime, so guess I’ll end this letter. Write back soon. Take care of yourself.
I love you,
Joyce
***
“Are you writin’ your mama again, girl?”
“Yes.”
“Still makin’ up that fantasy life of yours for her?”
“Yes. I have too. Besides, it’s not all fantasy. Some of the stuff really happened,” Joyce replied.
“It ain’t right. Lyin’ to your mama that way.”
Joyce sighed. “I know it’s not right, but I can’t do anything else. She’s 85 years old. The truth would kill her. When she remembered it.”
“Maybe you ain’t givin’ her enough credit,” Betty said. “Us old broads can handle more than you youngin’s think we can.”
Joyce sighed, “Mama is nothing like you, Betty. My brother was having trouble a few years ago. He got into drugs. He was using the grocery money to buy the stuff, starving his kids. When mama found out, she went to his house and beat him with a stick broom! She chased him around that house for hours, until she passed out from her blood pressure going too high.” She smiled before continuing, “Mama always thought she could fix everything. But some things are beyond fixin’. Especially now that her health is failing and she has Alzheimer’s. She can’t even fix her own breakfast anymore, but she still thinks she’s superwoman.”
“But you didn’t do anything wrong. Your mama’s not gonna beat you with any broom for protecting yourself and them youngin’s,” Betty stated. “From the sounds of it, she’d be proud of you. Seems like you did some pretty good fixin’ of your own.”
“Well, it’s different with me. Mama is old school. She thinks a woman needs a man to take care of her. She thought Doug was the best thing since sliced bread. Once I married him, she didn’t have to worry about me anymore. I never told her things were bad. I was ashamed.”
She shook her head sadly, before continuing, “My stubborn pride is what got me into this mess. I didn’t want mama to know I made a mistake with Doug. I let her think things were perfect. She always had enough trouble with Jack. I didn’t want to add to it. I was the baby. Everything was supposed to be good for me.
“She bragged to all her friends about her son-in-law who took care of her baby girl. I don’t know how many times she told me I was lucky I didn’t have to raise my kids alone like she did.
“No, it would break her heart to hear Doug beat me every day, to find out he was a monster and she didn’t protect me,” Joyce said. “And to find out I killed him, and the kids were put in foster care. Well, her heart would plum stop beating then,” she assured Betty.
“Besides,” she shrugged. “What could she do about it anyway? She’s in a nursing home two thousand miles away. It’s not like she can come visit or anything.”
“If you told her, you could call her on the phone. They let you do collect calls here. Might help you get along better. You’re gonna be here a long time, girl. Time drags in here when you got somebody to talk to, let alone when you don’t.”
“She wouldn’t remember what I told her anyway. She lives in her own little world most of the time,” Joyce replied, wiping a tear off her cheek. “I couldn’t stand telling her what happened over and over again every time she called, tearing her world to pieces again and again,” she added.
Betty shook her head, “That Alzheimer’s is something awful, that’s for sure.”
“Yes it is,” Joyce agreed. “But in a way I’m thankful for it. Mama can go on being happy, living in her world where everything is good, not in the real world where everything is going to hell in a hand basket.”
I hope you’re doing better. I know the surgery was hard on you. Are they treating you ok there? I sure hope so. We are going to try to come see you this summer. I’m saving up a little money each week for the trip. I sure do miss you.
I hope you aren’t too bored there. Are you still doing arts and crafts? I loved the clay mug you sent me for Christmas. I have it sitting on the fireplace mantel for everyone to see. They all talk about how pretty it is, and how much talent you have. I told them you always loved working with your hands and making stuff. I remember the wood flower boxes we made when I was first married. I hated when they got tore up in the storm in ’93.
I hope you’re doing what the doctors say and staying off your feet. Your hip will never heal if you overdo it. If you’d quit chasing all those old guys around the halls you wouldn’t have accidents. Ha Ha I’m sure the men would be very disappointed though, if the most beautiful lady in the place stopped paying attention to them.
Everything is fine here. The kids are growing like weeds. Robbie is already as tall as I am, and Cassie is up to my chin. I’m glad they are taking height after their dad, but I do miss them being little. Before I know it, they will be grown and gone. I know what you meant now when you told me to cherish every moment so I can look back on them when the kids are gone. They have already changed so much. It about broke my heart when Robbie told me not to hug him in front of his friends anymore.
They are still enjoying school, thank goodness! I don’t know what we’d do if they hated going like some kids. Of course, they are still in grade school. I’m sure things will change once they reach high school.
Robbie was in a play last week. He was a tree. You should have seen him. He practiced standing still every day for a month. It paid off. He was the best tree ever!
Cassie wanted to water him every time he put the tree costume on. She was so cute, chasing him around the house with her little watering can. I had to break up quite a few fights…when I was able to stop laughing. Sorry, I didn’t think to take any pictures to send you.
Doug is still working at the plant. He signs up for overtime whenever they offer it, which isn’t often these days. Don’t worry though, because we are doing just fine. We have food on the table and a roof over our heads. You always taught me those were the most important things. I try to pass this along to the children when they want some new toy we can’t afford. I was worried I wasn’t getting through to them, until the other day when Cassie told me she was saving all the pennies she finds on the ground to help with the house payment. Although it broke my heart for her to know about our money problems, it made me proud to see her generosity.
You aren’t going to believe this, but I’ve started crocheting. Do you remember when I was a kid and you tried to teach me to crochet? I gave you such a hard time! I guess I just needed more patience before I could enjoy it. Now, my house is covered with things I’ve made. I’m sending you a doll. I hope you like it. I made her dress peach because I know how much you love the color. I’ve even sold a few things at the local craft fair. Any little extra bit helps.
Cassie swears she is going to learn how to do it with me. She wants to make clothes for her dolls, and for Snickers. She carries that dog around so much I’m surprised he knows he has feet! She treats him like a baby and he just eats it up. I have to admit, he looked cute in the little sunglasses she put on him the other day. She wants to dress him up like a hotdog for Halloween. I’m hoping I can talk her into something more original.
I saw Jack the other day. He only stopped by for a few minutes, but it was nice. Sherri and the kids are doing fine he said. They were all going to the mountains for the weekend. He looked good. I think being a salesman agrees with him. He said they were doing better than they have been in a long time. I sure was glad to hear it. For a while there, I thought him and Sherri weren’t going to make it. I’m glad they turned things around.
I told him he should write you more often. He promised he would. We’ll have to hold him to that promise, so you let me know if he writes or not.
He showed me pictures of Tammy and Heather. They are both so beautiful. He said he has to fight the boys off with a stick. Ha Ha He is such the proud papa when he talks about those girls. I can’t believe they’ll be graduating this year!
Time sure does fly, doesn’t it? I remember when the girls were in pigtails, rummaging in my closet to play dress up. Now, they wouldn’t be caught dead in anything I own. I’m not stylish enough for them anymore.
It seems I spend a lot of time thinking about the past these days, remembering good times we all had together. I hate we can’t all be together again. I guess that’s what happens when you get older.
Well, it’s almost suppertime, so guess I’ll end this letter. Write back soon. Take care of yourself.
I love you,
Joyce
***
“Are you writin’ your mama again, girl?”
“Yes.”
“Still makin’ up that fantasy life of yours for her?”
“Yes. I have too. Besides, it’s not all fantasy. Some of the stuff really happened,” Joyce replied.
“It ain’t right. Lyin’ to your mama that way.”
Joyce sighed. “I know it’s not right, but I can’t do anything else. She’s 85 years old. The truth would kill her. When she remembered it.”
“Maybe you ain’t givin’ her enough credit,” Betty said. “Us old broads can handle more than you youngin’s think we can.”
Joyce sighed, “Mama is nothing like you, Betty. My brother was having trouble a few years ago. He got into drugs. He was using the grocery money to buy the stuff, starving his kids. When mama found out, she went to his house and beat him with a stick broom! She chased him around that house for hours, until she passed out from her blood pressure going too high.” She smiled before continuing, “Mama always thought she could fix everything. But some things are beyond fixin’. Especially now that her health is failing and she has Alzheimer’s. She can’t even fix her own breakfast anymore, but she still thinks she’s superwoman.”
“But you didn’t do anything wrong. Your mama’s not gonna beat you with any broom for protecting yourself and them youngin’s,” Betty stated. “From the sounds of it, she’d be proud of you. Seems like you did some pretty good fixin’ of your own.”
“Well, it’s different with me. Mama is old school. She thinks a woman needs a man to take care of her. She thought Doug was the best thing since sliced bread. Once I married him, she didn’t have to worry about me anymore. I never told her things were bad. I was ashamed.”
She shook her head sadly, before continuing, “My stubborn pride is what got me into this mess. I didn’t want mama to know I made a mistake with Doug. I let her think things were perfect. She always had enough trouble with Jack. I didn’t want to add to it. I was the baby. Everything was supposed to be good for me.
“She bragged to all her friends about her son-in-law who took care of her baby girl. I don’t know how many times she told me I was lucky I didn’t have to raise my kids alone like she did.
“No, it would break her heart to hear Doug beat me every day, to find out he was a monster and she didn’t protect me,” Joyce said. “And to find out I killed him, and the kids were put in foster care. Well, her heart would plum stop beating then,” she assured Betty.
“Besides,” she shrugged. “What could she do about it anyway? She’s in a nursing home two thousand miles away. It’s not like she can come visit or anything.”
“If you told her, you could call her on the phone. They let you do collect calls here. Might help you get along better. You’re gonna be here a long time, girl. Time drags in here when you got somebody to talk to, let alone when you don’t.”
“She wouldn’t remember what I told her anyway. She lives in her own little world most of the time,” Joyce replied, wiping a tear off her cheek. “I couldn’t stand telling her what happened over and over again every time she called, tearing her world to pieces again and again,” she added.
Betty shook her head, “That Alzheimer’s is something awful, that’s for sure.”
“Yes it is,” Joyce agreed. “But in a way I’m thankful for it. Mama can go on being happy, living in her world where everything is good, not in the real world where everything is going to hell in a hand basket.”
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)