It’s 7:00 & dinner has finally finished. Mom has a PTA meeting & Dad is going wherever Dad’s go at this hour {I have my suspicions}. “Upstairs to do your homework scout” Mom instructs as she’s clearing the table. Dad grabs the trash bag on his way out & tells Mom to make sure she locks up. After I know they’ve left I call Chase. “They’re gone. I’m coming over.”

Once I meet up with Chase we meet up with Malcolm & Tessa at the rec center. As soon as we arrive Malcolm let’s us know it’s time to head in.  We make our way to room 207 just as the clock strikes 8. Inside, just as I imagined I see my Mom & Dad sitting near Malcolm’s parents along with almost every other parent in town. At the podium is Mayor Jensen he starts the meeting.

“Today was a good day all. Now let’s discuss possible mischief for tomorrow. How can we make the lives of our kids a living hell?”

WOE prompt

How many times did you hear from your parents {I know I did!} or how many times have you said to your own kids “What do you think I do, sit around dreaming up ways to make your life miserable?” Yeah. That.

His calloused hands grip the shovel that moves the dirt.

His movements are precise & calculated as he shifts the earths soil from one side to the other.

The crows circle above his head & silently chant.

“Lift & dump, lift & dump”

He lifts & dumps to the rhythm of their chanting.

He can feel the sun baring down on him almost as if he alone is the intended target for the suns revenge.

He swears he hear’s it laughing as the rays pierce his chest.

Wiping the sweat from his brow he peers into the dark hole.

“This is what it all comes down to” he mumbles to himself.

He usually tries not to think of what he’s doing or who he’s doing it for.

But sometimes its impossible.

Especially when afterwards he stands afar to survey his work.

It’s not just a hole he’s dug.

It’s life he helps surrender
to the ground.

It’s grief he welcomes & death he befriends.

He is a grave digger.

Flash fiction prompt

Dependable, reliable, self-sufficient, quiet, & unassuming. If someone asked any of my friends to use one word to describe me those would be the ones they would choose. I don’t fault them for it. It’s easier to allow other people to write your story for you then to write your own & be told it’s wrong. That’s what I’ve done my entire life.

When I’m invited to your house for the first time after the renovations are complete I walk aimlessly around your home as you point out all the different lighting fixtures you had imported from some island I’ve never heard of. When we enter your bedroom I see your Tory Burch flats casually laying in the corner. I almost reach down to caress the soft leather, but I don’t. I make my way over to your night table & pick up your wedding photo & trace my fingers along the edge of the frame. “You’re bleeding! You must have pricked it on this damn frame. His mother got it for us. I think she’s trying to kill me.” you laugh as you motion for me to follow you into your bathroom. I wrap the bandage over my finger & that’s when the door bell rings. “Do you mind?” before I can even answer you grab my hand & I follow you back down the steps.

As the evening moves forward I see less of you. I walk from room to room smiling at people I don’t know &  quietly positioning myself in the middle of an ongoing conversation. Before we sit down for dinner I slip away from a tedious conversation about solar electricity & make my way back to your bedroom. I sit down on the edge of your bed & rub my hands across the duvet cover. I wonder what kind of secret dreams you have as you nestle beneath the fine Egyptian cotton.

I make my way into your closest & chuckle to myself. The same girl I’ve always known. Meticulously organized clothes. “Organization is the key to life” I hear you say. I make my way back to your shoes & slip off my old & tired brown pumps & slip my feet into the most beautiful emerald-green satin heels. Would you realize if they were gone? I don’t think you will so I slip them into my bag, slip my feet into my own shoes & head to your bathroom. I sit down at your vanity & pull open your makeup drawer. I line my eyes with a black kohl eye liner & sweep the mascara wand across my eyelashes. I look back into the mirror. “Not yet” I say to myself quietly. I push more makeup aside until I find what I’m looking for. I take the brush & sweep it across my cheeks like you taught me when we were 12.

I close the drawer & pick up your hair brush & run it through my auburn waves. Before getting up I sit for a moment longer & study my reflection staring back at me. It takes everything I have to not smash the mirror. I sigh deeply & stand up to make my way back down to the first floor for dinner. When I reach the bottom of the steps he turns his head & looks directly at me “There you are! I want you to meet someone” he takes my hand into his & I feel like I’m home.

This was a link up for TRDC & the prompt was to develop our character. What does your character want the most? I believe that what my character wants the most is to be acknowledged. I tried to “think outside the box” in describing her wants, were you able to still get that? And how do you feel it flowed with the first part of the story?

I’ve known you since 4th grade when we both wanted to be ice skaters. We begged our mothers to sign us up for classes & we made it an entire month before we decided we hated ice skating, we hated the cold & and we hated our coach. Ice skating quickly gave way to tennis & tennis fell into chess. And chess into painting. By the time we made it into middle school we could have opened up our very own “Buy your hobby supplies here” shop.

You were the best & the brightest. Always filled with ideas & words. Your mouth often got you into trouble, but your cleverness would always leave people wondering why they were upset with you in the first place. You had a way with people that I never did. I liked that about you.

And me? Well you know who I was. I was the sidekick, the quiet one, the reliable one. I was always the runner-up & a day late & a dollar short. People never took me seriously, they never gave me a second glance, and they hardly ever knew my name. I lived in your shadow & I was content there.

In college our roles stayed the same. The only difference? Better parties, better looking guys, & more beer. After college we parted ways. You headed to the city to your big corporate office, finely crafted Italian heels & perfectly manicured nails. You climbed your way to the top excelling past everyone’s expectations.

I headed back home & took a position as the art teacher at our old high school. Day after day I walked the same halls we once had. I watched girls fall into the same roles that used to be occupied by us. Sometimes I would get nostalgic as I watched them huddle in the cafeteria. Other times I would want to find the “me” in the group & tell her to run & never look back. But of course I never did that. That would have been something you would have done.

I settled into my life as you flourished in yours. We kept a standing phone date every 2 weeks. You would call & tell me about the new position you had just gotten or the NHL player who had taken you out the night before & the vacation you were planning. I would regale you with the locale gossip. The one about the quarterback from high school who had just gotten arrested for domestic violence. I’d tell you about the students I was teaching & the teachers I hated. I could never see your face during these conversations, but I always knew that if I could you’d be giving me the same face you used to give to your great-aunt when you’d visit her in the nursing home. Forced enjoyment with just a hint of pity.

The phone calls slowed & it was 2 years before I heard from you again. “He asked me to marry him” you gushed into the phone.

The wedding was exactly you. Perfect from every corner a person could judge it by. He took you to Europe for a month & when you got back you quit your job & moved back home to start a family. You immediately started renovations on the very house that we had always said would be the one I would share with my husband.

Marriage fitted you, just like everything else did.

Pregnancy fit you even better.

I watched from afar as your life followed perfect suit. Until it didn’t anymore.

And then one day, that husband of yours came knocking at my door.

Thoughts? I feel like I may have rushed to the ending to quickly after that last paragraph & the way the last three sentences were structured. And I was slightly over the word limit. I thought it was 700!

I could never have imagined what my life would be like after that evening. The day started out as any ordinary day would. I was late waking up. My husband was yelling that Jake forgot to take the dog out. Ava & Emily sat motionless watching some inane cartoon. And Chelsea at 14 had apparently left a huge mess of makeup, mousse, and hair dryers in the bathroom.

I stumbled downstairs and into the kitchen. My husband had finally let Rosie our Saint Bernard out and Jake was mumbling something under his breath as he cleaned up Rosie’s mess.

“I’ve about had it with that dog Josie. The kids don’t seem to give a damn whether she’s fed, bathed or walked. I’m going to take her to the animal shelter today.”

“And good morning to you too Nick, Jake please make sure you spray disinfect on the floor.” as I open the kitchen window. The smell was not something I cared for at 7 AM.

“Look I’m sorry but I’m tired of always being the one to pick up the brunt of the Rosie work around here. Either they get it together or she’s gone. They’ve got a month.”

“Fine Nick.”

By 10 AM everything seemed to have fallen into its regular order. Jake was off at school. Ava & Emily at daycare and there I was sitting in my beat up Dodge Caravan thinking about who needed to be where that weekend. I pulled into my parking spot at RJ Wright real estate at exactly 10:35. Shit. Now Edgar would be on my case about missing the staff meeting, by 5 minutes. Fuck him. I’ve got half a mind to quit today anyway.

But I know I really won’t because I say this every morning I pull in.

It’s 12:30 and I’m back in my beat up minivan coasting down the highway listening to Nora Jones headed to an open house that will keep me tied up for the rest of the day.

I’d missed a call from Chelsea’s school. She’s not in school today.

Steaming I start to dial Nick’s office number. His prickly ass secretary Regina answers the phone. “He’s not here and I haven’t heard from him all day”

Dial Chelsea’s cell phone. Straight to voice mail.

I disconnect & throw the phone into the cup holder and switch lanes to take the next exit towards home. I turn down the radio because I need to think. There is something inside of me gnawing at me like Rosie gnaws at one of her King Kong dog toys Nick bought her for Christmas last year.

Chelsea didn’t go to school. Nick’s not at work.

I push down harder on the gas.

With what seemed like a blink of an eye I was in the driveway. Nick’s truck parked in the garage. I jump up out stumbling over Jake’s skateboard and push open the back door.

Rosie asleep on the couch.

I start to take the steps two by two.  All the while my stomach performing it’s own Cirque du Soleil routine.

I push open Chelsea’s door and there I see my baby. My little girl laying underneath the weight of my husband, her father, screaming. Nick jumps up.

I don’t know how but I make it to my bedroom and into Nicks closet where I pick up the hand pistol that we kept strictly for emergencies.

This was an emergency.

And as I turn to walk out of our closet there Nick stands.

Without another thought. I pull the trigger.

And then the whole world shifted.

**************************************************

Such a grim subject I picked but I watched Oprah’s show on Wednesday about the twins who had been raped by their father & two brothers. And then that night I actually had a dream about those girls. These stories make me angry and I want someone. Anyone to do something to stop it.

I linked this piece of fiction up to The Red Writing Hood

Also check out this new Facebook discussion I put up on my page about another celebrity foot in mouth ass comment.

Need to catch up on the rest of this weeks posts?