Chance Encounter

Here is my story for this week's Three Word Wednesday prompt.

A chance encounter changed my life.

I was walking along, minding my own business, when the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen in my life ran right smack into me. I mumbled an apology even though it was clearly his fault because he came crashing around the corner without even looking. Still, it was only polite to say you’re sorry when you collide with someone.

He lowered his head and said, “So sorry, how clumsy of me.”

I assured him that it was no problem. I knew I’d get the feeling back in my arm soon, and it was worth it just to get to talk with him. 

I almost fell over when he grabbed my hand, kissed the knuckles and said, “You are much too forgiving, fair lady.”

I wanted to savor the sensation of his lips on my skin, but all too quickly, he pulled away. I’m sure it was because he finally got a good look at me. You see, I’m not all that much to look at. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not butt ugly, but I’m no super model either. I’m just me, plain ole Caroline. And he was definitely not the kind of man who usually paid attention to me.

What happened next blew me away. When he said, ‘May I entice you to go out to dinner with me?’ I knew I must have been hearing things.

  

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“I’m sorry. I’m much too forward. I just don’t want to miss the chance to get to know you better. Please forgive me.”

“No, no,” I replied. “It’s perfectly fine.” 

And it was. More than perfectly fine, it was totally out of this world. He was asking me out. I couldn’t believe it. 

Turns out, if something is too good to be true, you should know it’s not going to work out. Hopefully, when it happens to you, it won’t turn out quite as badly as it did for me.

Oh, we went on our date. The evening was wonderful. He took me to a fancy downtown restaurant that I’d always wanted to go to, ordered a hundred year old champagne, and danced my socks off. It was afterward that things went downhill.

We were walking along the boardwalk, the full moon casting everything in a mellow glow, when all of a sudden a chill wind seemed to blow across our path. I know it sounds melodramatic, but that’s what it felt like. Anyway, the next instant, Raymond, that’s the gorgeous stranger’s name, pounced.

Before I knew what was happening, he had me in a vise-like grip and his mouth was at my neck. I thought he was just getting fresh, and truth be told, I would have welcomed the advance, but when his teeth sank into my flesh, I knew something more scandalous was at work.

As bad as it sounds, something good did come out of the encounter. It seems that when you become the undead, you also become beautiful. I guess it’s so you can snare others easier. I’m not sure. All I do know is that men sure pay more attention to me now, even though I’m pale as a ghost. 

It’s nice getting all the attention. I just hate that they have to die so soon…

Regrets

Here's our exercise for this week: LOVELESS. Create a character around this sentence. 'Nobody has ever loved me as much as I have loved him.' Do not use this sentence in the fragment of fiction you write. The sentence comes from Guy Davenport's aunt, Mary Elizabeth Davenport Morrow, via his essay, 'On Reading,' in The Hunger Gracchus. Resist the temptation this exercise offers for a completely self-indulgent character. Of course, some self-indulgence will be fun. Think of this sentence as a kind of mathematical formula. Is the person who utters this sentence speaking of all the friends and loved ones he has known in his life? Or is she focusing on one person who did not return love satisfactorily? Consider the strong possibility that whoever would say s omething like this is unreliable. 500 words.

Here is what I came up with. How do y'all think I did? 

Sometimes, when I people watch at the park, I get so angry I could scream.

Don’t get me wrong, I love watching the little kids play. They’re so damn cute. But seeing them just brings back painful memories of all the times we tried and failed.

I can image that curly redhead over there is mine. She’s bouncing from one swing to the other just like I did when I was her age, and that attitude. Well, people have been known to say I am as stubborn as a mule, and that little darling looks like she’d argue with a fence post.

It hurts so much I have to turn away. Unfortunately, today the park is full and anywhere I turn, I see more happy family scenes. The mother kissing her son’s booboo after he falls off the jungle gym, the dad rough housing with his little boy in the sand, and the one that really gets me, the mom sliding with her daughter. She’s holding on so tight and you can tell she’s scared to death, but she’s doing it because her daughter needs to learn to be fearless.

And the way the kids look up at their parents just melts my heart. I want that!

I don’t even know I’m crying until a little girl around five walks over to me and asks if I’m okay.

“Yes, honey, I’m fine,” I assure her.

But I’m not fine, and it gets even worse when she pats my face with her little hand and tells me it’ll be alright.

Her mom drags her away when I burst into tears and double over in pain.

A Single Touch

“I’m sorry, young man, I don’t seem to know my own strength sometimes,” I said after yanking the door right out of the stranger’s hand. “Guess I get in too big a hurry and forget my manners. Please,” I added and gestured for him to go ahead. “Have a nice day now.”

I watched as he and the young lady who came out right behind him walked away. I couldn’t tell if they were together or not at first. They were both so stiff you’d think somebody starched their pants and they walked like they had sticks up their butts as my daddy used to say. 

I stood so long staring that my arm about gave out from holding the door open, but there was just something about the young man that struck my fancy. I can’t say what it was really. He reminded me a little of my Arthur, God rest his soul, but I don’t think that was it. I just don’t like to see anybody upset, and he was definitely that. And I do believe it had something to do with the girl following him.

I thought if he’d only turn around and take her hand, everything would be okay. Don’t know where I got that notion, because I still didn’t know if they were together, but it looked like she’d enjoy the gesture, and I didn’t think it would hurt the young man to have a comforting touch either. 

They waited at the bus stop, separated by no more than six inches, but miles apart it seemed. I saw her glance at him more than once and then quickly look away before he noticed. He seemed to inch closer to her the longer they stood until they were but a hair’s breadth apart. 

Finally, I could stand it no longer and I went over. After all, my appointment with the oncologist could wait. And if it didn’t, well, that wouldn’t matter either. I only had weeks to live anyway and was about tired of spending half my time at the doctor’s office.

The young man liked to have jumped out of his skin when I tapped him on the shoulder, which made the lady giggle. I was about to say something when the young man blushed and started to laugh as well. The girl then playfully hit his arm and said, “You’re as jumpy as a rabbit.” 

After that, I knew my help was unneeded. The young man grabbed the lady in his arms and whispered that he was sorry, and that everything would be okay. 

I left when they started kissing.

Native Heartache

Mighty cries silenced

Wastelands of sorrow, land raped

Trail of tear-soaked pain

Non-Career Day

 Here is the writing exercise for this week:

CAREER DAY. You've agreed to give a talk at your child's school for Career Day. Not only do you hate public speaking, you found out yesterday that you've been fired from your job - and you haven't told your kid yet. Write what happens when you go to the school to present. (500 words or less).

How do y'all think I did?

“And now, Mrs. Wilson, Carly’s mom, will share with the class. Welcome, Mrs. Wilson.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Casters,” I said, although I wanted to be anywhere but in Carly’s class that morning. 

When Carly had told me about career day a month ago, I was excited. I wanted to enlighten young minds on the wonders of accounting. I was looking forward to telling them why accounting was important and that it was a fulfilling, well-paying occupation. 

It was still all those things, but, unfortunately, not for me. Not only was I fired yesterday, but I was looking down the barrel of a full-fledged investigation into all my clients’ records. 

If I could just get through career day, I planned to explain what happened to Carly and prepare her for what lay ahead. 

“Hello, class. I’m here today to talk about the profession of accounting. I’ve been an accountant for twenty years and find it very rewarding.”

“Working for the mob usually is,” someone called from the back of the room. 

Before I could gather my wits again, Carly had rounded on the heckler with a vengeance. “You take that back, Mark Johnson,” she ordered, her little fist inches from his nose. 

It was then that I recognized Trent Johnson’s son. Trent was our local sheriff and the one who was looking into my case.

“What’s the matter, Mrs. Goody Two Shoes; you don’t want everyone to know your mommy works for the mob?” Mark teased. 

“Does not!” Carly insisted.

“Does too!”

“Shut up, Mark, or so help me you’ll be sorry.”

“Make me!” Mark challenged.

Mrs. Casters was struggling to keep the two children apart while they continued to argue. I knew I had to put a stop to things before my child was beat to a pulp. I just wasn’t sure how. Carly solved the problem for me, although not in a way I would have preferred. 

“Tell him, Mom,” she screamed across the room. “Tell him you don’t work for the mob.”

I was happy I didn’t have to lie.

“I do not work for the mob,” I informed the class and my teary-eyed daughter. 

“Not anymore,” Mark said, and then at my indrawn breath, he added, “She was fired yesterday.”

No Time Like the Present

“Will you play with me, Daddy?”

“Not right now, Maise, I’m tired.”

He didn’t look tired. Mommy said the blue under my eyes was because I didn’t sleep good, that my eyes were tired. Daddy didn’t have blue under his eyes.

“Please, Daddy, just play Barbie with me. I can show you how.”

“I said no, Maise.”

Maybe Daddies don’t get blue eyes from being tired. Maybe they just get cranky. That’s what Mommy said Daddy was when he came home from work every day…cranky. I don’t like it when Daddy is cranky. I like it when he’s happy. I like it when he plays with me.

“You can be Ken. You don’t have to be a girl doll, Daddy.” 

I know boys don’t like playing with girl dolls. They like the boy dolls that they can play in the dirt with. I don’t let any boys play with my girl dolls. The girls are supposed to stay pretty and clean. That’s what Mommy told me after I made mud pies with Charley Brindle last week and got dirt all over my new dress. She made me change before we went to get my superpower juice.

“I don’t want to be Ken, Maise. Daddy has a lot on his mind. I need to be by myself to think.”

I don’t like thinking. When I think too much my head hurts. Even the superpower juice doesn’t help the hurt go away. Mommy says I need to keep busy so I don’t have time to think about things that make me sad and make my head hurt. 

That paper Daddy is holding must be making his head hurt ‘cause he’s scrunching his nose all up. It looks like the paper is from Jefferson’s. I see the name of my superpower juice on the first line. Maybe they ran out! That would be very bad. Mommy says I have to have the superpower juice. I’m not sure why. Her and Daddy never take it. Maybe they’re already superheroes.

I wonder what CareMark Insurance means? That’s on the top of the paper. The bottom says canceled. They did run out of my superpower juice! 

Oh no! Daddy’s crying. Daddy’s aren’t supposed to cry.

“Don’t cry, Daddy.” I rub his arm like Mommy does mine when I take the superpower juice and it makes me sick. “It’ll be alright. Maybe I can get strong without the superpower juice.”

“Oh, Maise,” Daddy says and then hugs me close. “You are the strongest person I know.”

Daddy must not know many strong people. I’m tired all the time. I’m not strong. Daddy is the strong one. He used to pick me up with one hand. Before I got to where it made me dizzy. The superpower juice hasn’t helped with that. I wish it would. I’d love to fly around the room again.

Mommy tells me the superpower juice is working, but I heard her and Daddy talking the other day. She said I’m getting weaker instead of stronger and that they might have to give me more superpower juice. I don’t want to take more. Superpower juice may be good for you, but it doesn’t feel good taking it. My arms are black and blue. I asked Mommy why I couldn’t drink it and she said it doesn’t work that way. It only makes you stronger if it goes right into your veins. I’m not sure what veins are. I know it hurts when the superpower juice goes in them though. I guess I won’t have to take more now since it’s been canceled. 

Canceled means no more. They canceled my favorite TV show last week. 

“Let’s go play, baby.”

“Are you sure, Daddy? You don’t have to play if you’re sad.”

“I’m sure, Maise. There’s nothing more important than spending every minute with you. I’m sorry about earlier.”

“It’s okay, Daddy. We have all the time in the world.”

Daddy always tells Mommy that and it makes her smile. I wonder why it made Daddy cry again…

Falsely Accused

“We have to do this, Stanley,” I stated, more for my own benefit than his. I didn’t want to spank the kids, but I had made the rule, and no matter why they broke it, the fact is that they did. They had to face the consequences.

I squared my shoulders and called Mark in. He begged and pleaded, but I held my ground and gave him his spanking. I can’t say my heart was in it though and the next one would be even worse.

“Please, Mrs. Jones, don’t do it,” Angel said. “We just said I’m sorry for switching our milks. We weren’t really talking.”

I had to look away from her little face when I replied. “It doesn’t matter. You talked during lunch when I told you not to. Now let’s get this over with and get back to class.”

It was all I could do to not break down and cry when she laid over my lap. He little feet wouldn’t even touch the floor. Angel was the smallest child in class and it felt evil to lay a hand on her, but I couldn’t show favoritism. 

I drew a deep breath and raised the paddle. The whack resounded around the room but Angel made not a sound. I did notice the single tear sliding down her cheek though and I couldn’t hit her again. I was done.

She stood before me, sadness and confusion clouding her eyes while I told her that I hoped we’d never have to go through this ordeal again. I then sent her back to class before I started crying myself. 

“Are you okay, Jessica?” Stanley asked when I walked out of the room. 

“No, I’m not okay, Stanley,” I assured him. “I do know one thing though. I will never invoke silent lunch again.”

Wedded Miss

This story was inspired by the following writing exercise:

Your best friend from college has invited you to his wedding. You haven't seen him for years, so you're excited to catch up. But when you arrive at the wedding, you discover that your best friend's bride is someone from your past - and you realize you must stop the wedding at all costs. (500 words or fewer is suggested).

 

 

“It’s been way too long, my friend. Who’d have thought it would take my wedding to bring you back to town.” 

Or something like that is what Charles said. I couldn’t hear much for the roaring in my head. The sight of his future bride took more than my breath; it threatened to take my sanity.

This can’t be happening.

“What’s a matter? Cat got your tongue?” Charles asks. 

I dodge his good-natured punch in the shoulder and smile the best I can. How am I supposed to deal with this situation? I need some divine inspiration or something. 

I have to tell him, right? I mean, I can’t keep something like this from him. He will kill me if I let him go through with the marriage and he finds out later. And he will find out. I mean, how can he not? I don’t understand how he doesn’t know already. This is the twenty first century; surely they’ve slept together already.

Oh my God! I have to get that image out of my mind. 

Say something, you big dummy. You can’t just stand here staring. And it doesn’t look like the bride to be is going to be any help, just standing there looking like the ground is about to open up, which it very well may. 

“Matt? Are you ok, buddy?” Charles asks, taking hold of my arm as if he’s afraid I might fall over.

“You can’t do this!”

Fool. You can’t just shout it out like that. Now he really does think you’re crazy. You have to calm down, take him somewhere private and just tell him.

“Can’t do what?” Charles asks and then laughs. “Marry the woman of my dreams.”

“No, no, no,” I stammer and grab his arm, which only alarms him more. “You can’t get married.”

“Matt, I believe you need to sit down because you’re either sick or you’re trying to be funny. I sure hope it’s the first.” Charles hisses.

I grab him by the shoulders and drag him to the side of the group. He tries to pull free but I won’t let him, I can’t let him. 

Making him look me in the eye, I tell him, “You can’t marry Casey. We went to college together.”

Charles sagged with relief. “So that’s what this is about. You and Casey dated and you’re afraid it will hurt our relationship. That was a long time ago, buddy. It’s okay.”

“No, you don’t understand,” I say and stop him from rejoining the others. “Do you remember where I went to college?”

I watch as realization dawns. It’s amazing what you can see in a person’s face if you pay attention. I see my best friends whole world fall apart when he remembers that I went to Worchester Hills Community College…for men.