Tag: short fiction

Posted in Fiction, Uncategorized, Writing

Timed Write…Like a Mouse

Posted on by jennrae

She scribbled fiercely on the scrap of paper while the pounding on the door got louder and more insistent. Bang, bang, bang! She shivered clutching her sweater closer to her tiny frame.

“Come on, Izzy! I just want to talk! I promise I won’t hurt you.” The voice was all too familiar; slurred and stumbling, a half human half drunken snarl. All promises made by such a beast were lies. She had heard this story before. Promises were easy. As soon as she unlocked the door she knew he would be angry and red faced, and he would hurt her.

Her heart beat hard and fast in her chest causing little painful spasms. She found it hard to gulp down air. She was in panic mode, a survival tactic that would not help her now. She called forth the meditation she did in therapy after her parents’ divorce.

The counting to ten breathing. Her mother was also small and meek, and drank enough to become a fish. She drifted away on a magical boat away into the mists never to be seen again. There weren’t enough unicorns in her room to protect her from the were wolf outside the door. She knew her Dad would be back in the morning if she could only hold out that long.

Her handwriting was not the best but she wanted it legible. Her colored pencil broke with a loud snap. The pounding and pleading had stopped. She looked toward the door. This was too simple, too easy. She knew something was wrong. Quiet wasn’t always good. Sometimes quiet meant bad things were about to happen.

She held really still like a mouse. As still as she possibly could, frozen in time and place, light lavender sweater draped around a t shirt and jeans surrounded by friendly stuffed animal faces. Her eyes stayed focused on the door for a minute and then she breathed out.

The window burst into shards of glass forcing her to whirl around.  She left the note on the table, an all too brief note written in red. She ran to the door, tripped over her untied laces and crashed to the floor.

She felt his strong grip on her ankle and he pulled her toward him with a jerk. She reached out an arm toward the door, nails clawing into the wooden floorboards making an eerie screech and leaving tell tale marks. I was here, I existed. I cannot be erased. But I can be snuffed out like a candle flame she thought to herself quietly.

Posted in Fiction, Uncategorized, Writing

Writing Prompt # 13 The Break Down

Posted on by jennrae

Day 13

Breaking Down

A tire blows out as you’re in the car with someone on the verge of his/her own breakdown.

Stuck in a small town, you’re about to do something you haven’t done in years.

 

The tire suddenly went bang. I turned on my turn signal and pulled over to the side of the road.  Henry was in the passenger seat brow furrowed. He had never been mechanically inclined. Another reason my parents never approved of our marriage. The old Toyota had been reliable for a long time. But like all things, there is the day when things suddenly happen. And this explosion had been overdue. Much like Henry’s mood. The grey clouds had been gathering for quite some time.

We decided on this road trip to get away from our troubles.  We had tried so many things. To rekindle the fire to keep the momentum going.  The tire going bang woke me out of my trance like state. Suddenly I had to call AAA and wait.  We were out on the highway, literally the middle of nowhere. The nearest town was unpronounceable.  Lilliwaup or Dosewallips  or something or other. We were trying to get to the ocean.  We were trying to get to somewhere else to find ourselves again.  We were trying.

We were happy once I thought. Before reality hit. Before things became hard. Before we lost what we never really had. Hope for the future.  The promise of a bright future, a career for Henry, a baby for me. Both lost and gone in a moment. Like the tire. But not so easily replaced.

I get out after making the call. Who knew how long we had. The door shuts suddenly loud on the quiet roadside. We were far removed from civilization as we knew it. He said nothing.  “Let’s go for a walk.” I say, reaching out.  He barely looked up.  “Come on, Henry.” I plead, wondering where he was at.

He slowly gets out of the car; I hear the door slam decidedly. It sounded so final his brow still furrowed.  Was it really too late for us? It had only been a couple short years but it seemed like we were all ready very different people.  “ I feel like I don’t know you anymore. Why won’t you talk to me?”

“Maybe I don’t see the point of talking. Talking doesn’t solve anything. Everything is still going to be waiting for us when we come back. All the bills, empty house. Empty crib, more and more bills. “

“I don’t understand why you agreed to this road trip if it was pointless.” My voice became shrill and sharp like a harpy.  I hated how he made me turn into this angry shrill thing. I hated what I had become. Where did the optimism go? Where did we go?

“Maybe I am tired of fighting. Maybe I had a brief glimmer of hope. Maybe I wanted to make you happy. But I think I have hit my limit. You want me to talk about it? Okay. How is this for talking about it? I am done. Done with all this.” He gestured at the trees, and wilderness around us.

“What are you saying?” I get concerned not sure if he is talking divorce, or something more. I detect edginess to his voice; a grief that scares me. I didn’t recognize this person in front of me. Was he always this way? Or did I somehow make him like this? Maybe we were slowly killing each other?

“What are you saying?”  I look at my phone. Maybe I should call someone? I was still waiting for AAA. “Come on let’s walk a bit. Maybe we are close to someplace we can eat, while we wait.” I note the marker the car is parked near, and grab hold of his hand and we start walking. He goes silent again, not answering my question.

I know something is wrong, perhaps something had been wrong for a long time and I was blind to it. Maybe I didn’t want to see it. The string of jobs he couldn’t keep. The sudden desire to sleep in, and go to bed early. The listlessness. You would have thought he lost the baby. I had to be strong for both of us. I had to figure out how to pay the bills.

The hospital bill was the hardest. A reminder of what could have been. What was hoped for? But, no I couldn’t crumble. I wasn’t allowed to crumble. I resented him for that. For not allowing me to be the victim. For being greedy with the grief. For forcing me to be strong. I wanted to fall apart too, I thought to myself.  It was unfair. I sounded like a spoiled child. A child, I sighed at my own thoughts.

I cannot escape reality for long. I heard the crumble of asphalt under my boots and it seemed so loud all of sudden. A flurry of quail exploded in the near bushes scared off by our walking. A café was up ahead, a sort of greasy spoon café that preyed on stuck and lost travelers the way a spider waits for flies.  We walk up to it in silence bringing our pain and loss following us like an ever present shadow that won’t go away.

A sign with western style lettering says ‘Please seat yourself’ and so we do. We take a couple bar stools at the long wooden counter. I answer for both of us, “A couple Dr Pepper’s please, and we are waiting on AAA.” The waitress looks at me like I’m crazy. “Nothing to eat, dear?” I see her glance at my morose husband who says nothing. “Maybe a slice of your apple pie,” I point on the menu. She nods in approval walks into the back and comes back with the sodas and two plates and a big slice of pie.

I take a bite gingerly. “Mm. This is really good. Go ahead, Henry. You should try some. This is more than I can eat.”

“Naw, you go ahead. I know you can eat for two.” That hits me like a slap in the face. I look at him in astonishment. “Uh, what?”

“You heard me. I’m done here.” He gets up and walks out. I watch him in confusion. Where could he possibly go? And why the cruelty? The pie turns to ash in my mouth. I find I can no longer eat it. I leave some cash on the counter and run out after him wanting a confrontation. Wanting to yell at him and hit him. I was beyond frustrated.

“Henry! Where are you going?” I look around. I don’t see him. Part of me wants to let him go. Sometimes I think it would be easier to start over than to fix the mess that we created. My cell starts buzzing, I answer. “Yes, flat tire. Yeah, I’ll be right there. I’m at this Café. Yeah. I’ll be right there.” They were at our car. Probably the only car in the area so not hard to find.  I look around but Henry seems to have disappeared. I yell, “Okay, this isn’t funny. I am going back to the car. AAA is there changing the tire.  You know, doing what you should be able to do. So, I hope you are going to the car and not sulking like some gawd damn baby.”

I regret it as soon as I say the word. It was too late, it had left my mouth. I stomped to the car angry at him the whole way. I signed the forms and the AAA guy thanked me and left.  I got in the car slamming the door as loud as I could, started the engine, turned on the radio as loud as I could handle. It was playing Adele with a ton of static. Not the greatest listening experience but I wanted to have the biggest tantrum ever.  I see a couple police cruisers drive up sirens on. I turn the radio off, and look at them and they look at me.

“Ma’am, we have a report of someone who was seen jumping off the cliff side. Did you see anything? We got a call from the Café up the road?”  The ocean was far down the road. We wanted to get to the ocean. Down the winding upward road, you could see it. The sparkling water so near yet so far away.

“Someone jumped? Down there?” I looked over the side of the road; there was a metal railing to protect cars from driving off.  I felt a sharp pain in my heart like a part of me died somewhere down there.  “I guess you better talk to the people at the café. I didn’t see anything here.”My voice was shaky but firm.  I watched as the police continued up the road.  I got ready to turn the car around. It was time to go back home.

Posted in Fiction, Uncategorized, Writing

Writing Prompt #10 The Dollar

Posted on by jennrae

I wandered the mall trying to find that elusive unique gift. You know that one that no one thought they really needed, but after they have it they can’t live without it? That unique I know you better than you know yourself type of gift. I roamed Macy’s, Nordstrom’s, Kohl’s, and several little boutiques. Every time something called out to me, at the last second it just didn’t seem to fit.  I knew Charlee loved colors. Especially colors that made her think of spring. Fresh flowers and that sort of thing.

I was thinking maybe scarf, you can’t have too many of those and you didn’t have to worry about sizes. Or maybe a hat, or a belt. Or maybe a perfume? But, then maybe that is too personal. I could be way off on the scent and then I would experience that awkward, “You really shouldn’t have…” With the expression that says, yeah, like, you really shouldn’t have…” Literally, not tongue in cheek.

Same with dresses. So much could go wrong. I would save the receipt, no matter what I decided. No repeats of last year. The silence was deafening as she looked at the egg plant colored rain coat. Yeah, you shouldn’t have…thought I would ever, ever wear that. Lesson learned. Don’t go too quirky, don’t go too boring. Remember the beige sweater? Who could not like a neutral sweater? Apparently Charlee.  Another year I got her a coffee mug. Problem was, so did her best friend. The year of the coffee cups taught me to try to find something no one else would think of. But at the same time not to go too far off in left field. Remember the rain coat became my new mantra.

Finally I settle on this tiny shop next to the perfume store. It looked like As-Seen-On-TV mixed with random nick-knacks like hello kitty clocks and waving animal solar powered dealies. You’ve seen them in windows and on car windows. Dancing daisies and stuff like that.  I see one of the Felix the cat clocks give me the side eye as it was ticking reminding me I was running out of time.  I went to a corner that had fortune stuff, lucky bamboo shoots in little porcelain jars next to banzai plant kits. Hmm. She would probably kill that poor plant before the month was out. I couldn’t have that death on my conscious.

My eyes went to a little book shelf. One book stood out. It was a dark purple color, kind of a velveteen material. In gold lettering it said Be What You Want to Be. Hmm. Sounds self-help-like. But she likes that sort of thing. It looks good to have a few books like that lying around. Makes you seem like you are working on yourself.  It was risky though. What if the purple is too much like egg plant? What if she reads it and hates it, and then decides she hates me? I am terrible at this. So I decide to open the book and see what it says inside.  I flip through it. To my amazement, it is empty. So, it is a journal maybe? The future is unwritten sort of thing? I decide she would like the soft velvet cover; maybe it would inspire her to journal.

I pick it up and take it to the counter which was a long glass affair with random porcelain figurines inside.  Future thrift shop memorabilia I think. Isn’t that where all this stuff ends up in the end? If it doesn’t go straight to some giant land fill somewhere of forgotten treasures. I briefly am reminded of the land of forgotten toys from the old clay-mation holiday cartoon. Was it Rudolph or one of the others? The thought is gone as quickly as it came. Dancing Jack-in –the-Box and all the other misfit toys. Gone. Half remembered but not important enough to keep in the movie, or my memory.

I hand the cashier, a grey haired lady with thick glasses, a twenty dollar bill. She opens the register with a bell ring and gives me the change, a ten, a five, and two ones plus miscellaneous change.  She reminds me of the old lady on the packages of Grandma’s cookies. She just seems like that sort of old lady. I take my change and notice one of the ones has something written on it. I figure it is one of those “Follow George” from this website and don’t think much of it. I put them hurriedly in my pocket and leave the store. I go to my car, place the little lavender bag with the book on the passenger seat as I start the car up. I sigh, just enough time to get to the party. Charlee all ready hates it when I am late, and I am late most of the time. Time management is not my strength.

I pull up to the nice three bedroom house with perfectly manicured landscaping. A house I helped pay for but rarely spent time in. I could see the balloons from here and the other cars lining the drive way. Last but not least I hope. Purple is still her favorite color isn’t it? Kids grow up way too fast these days. It used to be so easy, My Little Pony and Strawberry Shortcake or something like that. Maybe it was Carebears and Rainbow Brite?  The years tend to run together now, and now I am unsure of my present.

I get out of the car, clutching the bag, oh crap. I didn’t wrap it. I’m an idiot. I rummage in my glove compartment, find a gift bag for just such emergencies and at the last second, maybe I should put money in the card I all ready bought and signed. I get out my change, and look at the one dollar bill again.  The words on the bill gave me a chill. I looked out my open car door uncertainly.  The bill said in carefully boxed letters, “I am watching you. If you want Charlee to get her present meet me at 4th and Pine. “It didn’t say when. The party was about to begin. I couldn’t help but wonder how this ended up on this bill. Charlee was a fairly unique name for a girl with an uncommon spelling. What would be the chances and how would the person know about the present?

I wrapped the present, and left it on the door step. I had to figure out what this was about. I looked around suspiciously.  Was I being watched? How was this possible? I shakily got back in my car, a beat up old Honda Civic from the nineties and backed out of the drive way. Charlee will hate me. But if there is a psycho following me I can’t have them around her. I should go to the police. There has to be a logical explanation. I drive to 4th and Pine Street. It is quiet. There is a small park there with a few derelict swing sets and playground equipment. It looks creepy empty. Like the pictures of the Chernobyl Ferris wheel years after the nuclear meltdown but not in such bad shape. Just frozen in time, waiting for the ghosts of children to come and play.

I had missed my share of birthday parties but never for such a bizarre reason. Usually I missed them because of work, or stupidity. Yes, stupidity. I always regretted it.  I sighed. I got out slowly looking around. I walked to the fence, checking my cell phone. I saw the missed call and text messages. ‘Where are you? Don’t you know how important this is to her?!?! Whats wrong with you???’ It was a valid question.  I kept one hand on it, so I could hit the emergency button. I didn’t know what I was walking into, but I had the uneasy feeling it was like Alice in Wonderland. And I had no idea how deep this rabbit hole was going to be.

 

 

 

Posted in Fiction, Writing

Danger, Danger…(a character study)

Posted on by jennrae

With steely eyes and a sure grin, she aimed the rifle casually at the unsuspecting deer. She watched as it nibbled absently at a tuft of grass, and paw the ground a bit, oblivious to its fate.  Her partner knelt next to her, shivering despite his thick coat and fur lined gloves.

She wore a little smirk as her fingers slowly tightened on the trigger, waiting for the right moment to strike. Suddenly, the forest exploded in sound as she pulled the trigger, leaving the echo. The deer had a frozen look of fear and went down midleap, twitching, spasming, as its life’s blood trickled from the small circular wound in its majestic chest, eyes rolling back revealing the whites before shuddering still. Silence encompassed them now as the other creatures of the woodland bounded, fluttered, or skittered away with the gunshot, leaving the two hunters completely alone.

The man looked at his partner, the huntress, the killer, the triumphant gleam in her eye of victory, dominance, and superiority. He shivered again, rubbing his gloved hands together to ward off the additional chill he was experiencing.  She approached the corpse and took out her knife. The man found himself looking away, uncertain.  He’d done this before himself, but somehow watching her, experiencing her gutting the animal was different. Something about the look in her eyes as she confidently went about her business, about the lack of stereotypical femininity, bothered him. She became unreal, animalistic; a lioness in her environment.

He had the feeling that he could be next, that he was merely one kind of conquest among many, and that she would carefully gut him, detached from it when she was through with him much like a biology student dissects a frog.  He knew these thoughts were irrational. He knew she wasn’t a lioness. She wouldn’t devour him or break him into a million pieces like glass. But the fear remained and formed an invisible barricade between them.

Ironically, her willingness to learn to hunt was an attempt  on her part to bridge the gap, to break the barricade down. But like everything else, it was her nonchalance, her over capability, her ability to achieve easily that added fuel to the fire of his increasing insecurity.  He wanted to break their engagement but he could imagine the look in her eyes, the “How dare you…who do you think you are” moments. He was paralyzed by the fear of indecision. Like a deer caught in the glare of the headlights of an oncoming car. No matter what he did he heard the warning in his mind,”danger,danger!”