Tag Archives: fiction

Fiction Friday: Quick Fic

07 Friday Jan 2022

Posted by in Fiction, Fiction Friday, Quickie Fiction

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

Going to try to make this a habit. But I’m not making any promises. We know how I do.
Created using Canva

The fog was so thick you could practically cut it with a knife. Normal lights afforded you some visibility but brights turned the fog into a bright white wall of nothing that followed five feet in front of you as you drove.

So I kept my driving lights on avoiding brights despite my desire to improve visibility. The still lingering clouds turned what should have been early morning light into darkness, at least what I could tell through the fog.

Once in a while I passed a street light. It illuminated the rock wall, guardrails, and pavement. But it’s light couldn’t pierce further than the small area below it.

It had been raining for days, sometimes a drizzle sometimes a mist. But mostly just a downpour so heavy your wipers couldn’t keep up. But it had stopped long enough for there to be a few dry patches here and there.

There weren’t many other vehicles on the road aside from mine. As early as it was, on the weekend nonetheless, no one in their right mind would be out if they didn’t have to be. I would have much preferred a warm bed as opposed to a long dark damp road.

No, one wouldn’t expect another soul to be on these roads. but here I was traveling unhappily to work. I was admittedly tired, a little distracted by the thought of all I had to do. That and the fog was why I didn’t see it at first.

I’d been looking at the road ahead, as one should, and I glanced down for a moment to check my speed. It was that split second it took my mind to register what I’d seen, and look back up that startled me.

It’d been much further when I first saw it. A dark figure in the foggy distance. Backlit by a streetlight, just enough to make out a vaguely human shape. And it stood in the middle of the road.

I slammed on the breaks, the truck tires squealing on the asphalt, a wet spot on the road caused slight fishtailing. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, and opened them.

I expected to see whatever it was bathed in the glow of my headlights, or worse, splayed across the hood of my truck, despite hearing no sound of the sort. But instead, I saw nothing.

I blinked a few times, rubbed the sleep from my eyelids, and squinted into the thick fog.

There it was. Further ahead than where I’d imaged, despite the distance I’d traveled. It was as if it’d leapt ahead of me. But it was still there. Lingering.

I took a deep breath, composed myself, then let off the breaks and hit the gas, slower this time. I kept an eye on the road and an eye on the thing in front. As I drove it seems to remain just at the edge of the fog, as if it were moving along with me.

So I tested it. I picked up speed, so did it. When I slowed, it did too. And unlike most objects, when you were moving toward it in the distance that “grew” in size as you got closer, this did not. It remained the same size.

I slowed to a complete stop in the middle of the road, staring at it. I knew I only had about another mile and a half until I reached my destination, with one turn off. Until this point it has been a relatively straight stretch.

So I floored it.

I didn’t even think about it when I did it. Just put my foot in the gas abs gave it my all. The revved and the tires squealed again as I peeled out.

I wanted to see it move. To catch up with it. Wanted it to get bigger as I got closer. It did nothing. Until I looked away.

A porch light had come on, perhaps awoken by the roaring of my engine and squealing of tires and I glanced quickly toward the light, my attention drawn, and then back.

And there it was, ten feet in front of me, still black as nothingness, still backlit by… nothing.

I slammed on the brakes once again, almost locking them up, jerking the truck to a sudden stop. I should have been within feet of hitting it—had I wanted to hit it?—but when I opened my eyes, it was gone again.

I looked for it ahead of me. It had been maintaining its position in the middle of the road, this time when it leapt ahead it had practically flown away. I did not see it go, nor where it might have went. But it was gone.

People were looking out their windows now. I’d made it into downtown without realizing it. My abnormally reckless driving had woken some residents from their dreary morning slumber. And it had begun to look like morning. Sunlight was peaking trough breaks in clouds.

Perhaps the rain was done. Perhaps the sun would come out today. Perhaps the dark figure looming ahead had left to confuse and bewilder another unfortunate soul.

Either way, I was going to be late.

Thanks for reading!

-C

If you liked this, you might like this one too!

Black Pines

15 Wednesday Sep 2021

Posted by in Black Pine, coming soon, Fiction, Premium, silent secret

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , ,

Sponsored by Black Pines Tourism and Black Pines Historical Society

“Nestled next to a breathtaking mountain, which feeds a large lake, Black Pines is a unique and beautiful little town. Boasting scenic views from mountain cabins, guided hikes, and even the annual Pioneer Festival every Autumn, there is nothing Black Pines doesn’t have to offer!”

“Black Pine Lake, whose water is sourced straight from fresh mountain runoff, stays perfectly cool and clear all year round, making it especially enjoyable in the hot summer months!”

“There’s something for everyone all year round in Black Pines! Come see us anytime, we’ll be happy to have ya!”

Learn more about Black Pines, featured in “Silent Secret” coming soon for premium subscription!

Quickie Fiction

02 Wednesday Jun 2021

Posted by in Fiction, Quickie Fiction

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , ,

The Concept

An experiment in which I randomly generate three words and attempt to write a short fiction using them. It’s 11:34pm and I’ve been up since 6am. Wish me luck!

The Words:
https://randomwordgenerator.com
The Fiction:
Blue Skies Are Boring

The sky was angry. Well, it wasn’t just angry. It was furious, like someone pissed in its Cheerios. It looked like it wanted to go John Wick on the culprit. But it withheld its revenge, for the moment.

Why is it every funeral Jay ever attended involved inclement weather? Snowing, raining, the gods taking their wrath upon mortal man for his misdeeds. There was always something.

“Blue skies are boring,” Katie mumbled. She had her forehead leaning against the cool glass of the passenger door, staring at the clouds, and until that moment was silent. “Nothing to see in them,” she added.

Jay glanced over at her, then glanced back out the driver’s side of the windshield. He wanted to focus on the string of cars in front of him.

“You’re gonna have a mark,” Jay told Katie. She said nothing. “On your forehead, from leaning against the window. A big ole red mark. People will wonder if I bonked you on the noggin.”

Katie shrugged but he could see out the corner of his eye she tried not to smile. He liked it when she smiled. He hadn’t seen her smile in a few days.

The procession of cars slowly came to a stop, but then continued slower as they made the final turn to the gravesite. Cars lined themselves along the fence, and people in various shades of black climbed out, and made their way silently to the graveside.

Katie flipped down the visor and looked in the mirror. “Told ya.” Jay said. She punched him in the arm and he laughed as he feigned pain. They walked side-by-side in silence.

Mourners had gathered, sitting and standing at the side of the closed casket, settling in as the officiant waited patiently. When everyone had placed themselves he began to speak of the deceased like one would hope to be spoken of in this moment. Good deeds, a big heart, loved by many, good person. Missed but no longer suffering. Blah blah blah.

These were all the same, Jay thought. And the older you get the more people you lose. He’d been to more than his fair share. He’ll skip the next one. This one, however, he could not.

After the words were spoken and tears shed it was time to pay final respects, say their final goodbyes. “Would I be a fool to believe we’ll see each other again?” He thought as he watched people step up to the casket, touch it gently, and walk away. “I think I’d prefer foolishness.”

He took his step up, placed a hand on the cream colored casket. The subtle gleam of pink pearliness seemed to glow despite the low light. He spread his fingers there and pressed as if to leave a mark in its perfect surface. When he removed his hand, for a split second, a fog remained—the heat of his hand on the cool surface—but that was all.

He turned and walked away, and glanced back. The sight he saw shook him. The lowering of the casket into the fresh hole, surrounded by strangers ready complete the task. And Katie. Standing there, watching him go.

For the first time in days he let himself feel it. He choked back a sob, a tear rolled down his cheek.

Katie smiled, waved a small wave. She mouthed the words, “I will see you again, big brother.” Then she smiled up at the sky.

Jay felt the first big drops of rain pelt his head and he too looked up. When he looked back she was gone. “Then a fool I’ll be.”

The Conclusion:

If you read I would love comments and/criticisms. This was a whim of an idea. I literally thought of it five minutes before I started. This is also the first fiction I’ve written in a very long time. It took a darker turn than I imagined, but when your words include “funeral” why not? Also it took me an hour.

Thanks for Reading

-c

“In the Closet”

16 Wednesday Dec 2020

Posted by in Fiction, Unfinished Business, Writing Prompt

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , ,

I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to take a trip down memory lane. I found a few things I forgot I’d written. Pretty sure I’ve never posted this. Im not sure if it’s finished but I think I like it the way it is.

Writing Prompt Wednesday (1)

“In The Closet”

As children, some of us are very curious. Some of us, when told not to do something, we say “Okay” and walk away disappointed. Some of us say, “Okay,” but then wonder, “Why?”

When Jane was a child, she was often told to stay out of her mom’s bedroom. She listened, most of the time. But when she got older, her imagination always got the best of her, and she’d sneak her way into her mother’s room, just to peak in drawers or look under the bed. She always got caught though.

Her mother would scold her, “What did I tell you?!” Then she’d point demandingly toward the doorway, and watch as her marched her butt out of the room.

Jane often imagined her mother was hiding piles of stolen money, stolen in a daring bank robbery committed before she had children. Or perhaps the family’s Crown Jewels were hidden somewhere in the closet, and they must be kept secret, lest evil henchmen of the dictator who ran the rightful rulers out of the exotic land discover their whereabouts and kidnap and murder them. Jane was a very imaginative child.

But she soon grew older. School and friends and life became more important than discovering her mother’s “secrets”, and the fun little game she played with her mother—against her mother’s will—was forgotten.

One day, when Jane was not quite an adult but no longer a child, her mom got sick. The  toughest woman she’d ever known got sick, and never really got better. Jane watched in distress and fear as her mother slowly deteriorated, the vibrant light she once carried ebbing away.

The day her mother died, Jane had spent the day by her side. They’d been told there wasn’t much time left, and Jane wanted to spend the last moments they had together not worrying about trivial things. She just wanted to be there for her mother, to let her know she wasn’t alone.

While her mother was in and out of lucidity—she spent more time in that heartbreaking haze of “here but not”—Jane still wanted her mom to know she was there. She’d talk about her day, her friends, sing a song, read aloud. She did not expect her mom to respond, she just knew that if the tables were turned, her mother wouldn’t leave her side.

They’d spent the day this way, keeping each other company, though it was a one sided task. During a quite moment, Jane had just finished a passage from her book, when she glanced up at her mother who hadn’t moved much on her own in days. Jane was shocked to see her mother reaching out to her.

She stood up quickly, grasped her mother’s hand, and leaned in close. “I’m here, mom. I’m here.” For the first time in a very long time, she turned to Jane, looked her in the eyes, and smiled. Tears very suddenly burst from Jane’s eyes. With great heaving sobs, all the stress and pain and loss burst forth and she couldn’t hold back anymore.

But though Jane sobbed, her mother smiled. She reached up to her daughter’s face, and rested a cool hand on her cheek. Jane pressed her hand against her mother’s wanting to remember that feeling. She began to calm as her mother smiled up at her, and soon both were smiling.

When Jane had calmed, she began telling her mother how much she loved her, and her mother just nodded in response as if saying, “I know, Jane.”

Very soon, though, the light began to fade, and her mother felt it too. She lifted her hand once more, this time in a familiar way. She raised her hand and pointed her finger, and Jane flashed back to her childhood of sneaking into that very room to “investigate”. Now, instead of pointing to the bedroom door, she pointed to the closet. “Not now mom,” Jane whispered, taking hold of the hand that pointed and squeezed gently. Then her mother seemed to muster her last bit of strength and whispered, “In the closet…”

A few days later, her mother was laid to rest precisely where she’d have wanted, next to her husband, and the flowers had already begun to wilt in the summer heat. Jane was resting at home, her mother’s home. Though she tried not to think of that day, her thoughts kept wandering back to her mother’s very last living moments on the earth. The brightest smile, the touch of her hand on her cheek. And that barely audible whisper, “In the closet.”

She stood up, and despite being a grown woman whose mother had recently passed, she still felt like a naughty sneaky little girl, whose mother was about to catch her tiptoeing into her bedroom. But now, instead of pulling on drawers and looking under the bed, she made a bee line for the closet door. She half expected it to be locked, but the knob turned and opened with no resistance.

For a moment she stood there, just looking at her mother’s clothes. There were items in there she’d had for years, here the dress she’d worn to her daughter’s graduation, there the slacks she’d worn when they visited college campuses. In the floor were shoes she’d not seen her mother wear in years. “I might still need them one day,” she could hear her mother say.

She looked up at the shelf above the hanging clothes. Folded neatly there were old bedspreads and quilts, tucked away until cooler nights made them necessary. But in the corner, pushed against the wall, and tucked under a stack of sheets was an old fashioned hat box Jane had never seen before.

Careful not to pull the sheets down on top of her, she slid the box out slowly, surprised at the weight of it. She carried it over to the bed and plopped it onto the foot. For a moment she just stood there, wondering what was in it, and allowing her childhood imagination to wonder.

Finally she took a deep breath and opened the lid.

LCAC

10 Sunday Nov 2019

Posted by in Audience participation, Character, Fiction, Let’s Create

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , ,

For the first time in a long time she drove home with a smile on her face. Despite the late hour she spent the whole ride home singing along to her car radio—even if it wasn’t her favorite song. And she was happy as could be. It was late, and she was tired and in need of a shower, but she was happy.

She took a sharp curve too fast, and something in her trunk shifted. For a brief moment the old feelings of not being good enough and self consciousness flashed across her face like a dark shadow. But it was brief. “I’ll take care of that garbage tomorrow.” She told herself, and continued loudly singing along.

When she got home, she slammed the car into park and the thing in the trunk shifted again. She blinked at the sound. Then, she turned off the car and went inside.

She sang in the shower—it always seemed to be the last song she heard that got stuck in her head—she belted out the chorus to that catchy pop tune that seemed to be everywhere at the moment, and used her loofa as a microphone. Afterward, instead of laying in bed thinking about all the depressing stuff, she curled up under the covers and pushed all the negative thoughts out of her head. “Tomorrow is a new day,” she told herself. “And I’m going to own it.”

When she woke the next morning she was bright eyed and bushy tailed and still very happy. She made herself a delicious breakfast; there was nothing like a good meal to start your day right. She was feeling so confident that she decided, for the first time in a while, she would dress up for work, and put on some make-up.

Once she was ready, cute dress and “frankly the best make-up look I’ve ever done,” she looked at herself in the full length mirror. “People are going to ask, “why are you so dressed up today” and “what’s with all the makeup?!”” She realized it would draw more attention to her. “I’m going to feel so stupid!” She groaned. “You can wrap a pig in velvet and throw some lipstick on it but it’ll still be a pig,” she remembered. The darkness of that old depression and low self worth shaded her face once again. But again she froze, and when she looked back up, she smiled at herself in the mirror and said, “You look great today!” And she did.

Once in the car, she pulled out of her parking spot and the thing in her trunk moved again. She paused, then said, “I’ll take care of that later.” And turned her radio up.

Throughout her work day she got complements she’d never gotten from people who she thought didn’t know she existed. They said things like, “you look great today!” And “wow, cute dress!” For the first time in ages she felt confident. “Maybe,” she thought, “I’ll keep this up, I feel so great!”

Toward the end of the day there was free cake and drinks in the cafeteria in celebration of someone’s retirement. She was enjoying cake and conversation—she usually took her cake back to her cubicle— when she over heard people talking.

“No, she never came in to work. I was about to ask you if you’d spoken to her.” A man said.

“I actually haven’t spoken to her since yesterday,” the woman responded.

“I wonder if everything’s okay? She doesn’t usually miss work.” The man said. “Especially if there’s a chance to make fun of people for eating too much cake!” He laughed.

She just stared at them, a darkness rolling over her face once again.

“HEY!” She heard a voice. She turned toward the sound. “You okay? You zoned out there for a minute,”

“Oh, sorry. Yeah, I’m—actually I’m not feeling well.” She said. “I think I’ll have to sneak out early.” She put her unfinished cake down, and rushed back to her cubical for her purse and keys. As she ran out to her car she felt the lovely veneer of happiness begin to crack.

When she turned the car on, the radio she left loud blasted a song, scaring a tiny scream out of her. She stifled it and turned the radio down. He backed out as the sky darkened with gray storm clouds.

She took a few curves too fast as the heavy droplets of rain slapped her car. The dark gray sky worsened as she drove the unfamiliar roads. She tried to keep singing along to the radio, but kept getting distracted. Instead she tried to focus on the road, and staying safe in the heavy rain.

She hadn’t driven the route in some time, and it was brighter and drier when she had, but she had business to take care of, and she knew she’d be happier once she did.

A few more minutes and a few sharpe curves later and she was at her destination. She backed her car against the cliff and hit the trunk button on her dash, quickly climbing out of the car and into the rain.

She took a deep breath and raised the trunk lid. The tarp had come unwrapped bad a lock of perfectly bleached blonde hair and a red-manicured hand peaked out. “No one likes taking out the trash but everyone has to do it sometime.” She told herself.

She reached in and grabbed the corner of the tarp to pull it closer and the head of gorgeous blonde hair rolled forward. For a spilt second the darkness appeared and she thought, “Oh no!” She froze, but then refocused and said aloud, “almost done.”

She pulled and tugged until the blonde object was close, then one last hard tug, and she watched as the object in the trunk rolled down the embankment—hitting a few rocks on the way—and into the the lake below. She looked over the edge just long enough to make sure the object was gone, the she smiled widely and climbed back into her car.

Her cute dress ruined by rain and mud, her make-up smeared and running down her cheeks, she smiled in the rear view mirror and said to herself, “You looked great today.”

She pulled away from the cliff and drove away singing that catchy pop song that was everywhere these days.

Thanks for reading,

-c

Let’s Create a Character

29 Thursday Aug 2019

Posted by in Audience participation, Fiction, My Writing, News

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , ,

Starting tomorrow at 11:10am on my Facebook page there will be a poll with two options to help choose aspects of a character! Each poll will run for three days. On day four, the winning option and a new poll will be posted! When the character is fleshed out I will write a short story about the character!

Help me and vote on this character! My favorite part of writing has always been character development! Share with me!

I’ll post an update when the polls go up and end!

Join me!

-c

“What the Heart Wants” 9

25 Monday Mar 2019

Posted by in Choose Your Adventure, Story 1, Uncategorized, what the heart wants

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , ,

Eliza was up bright and early the next morning, back to routine, to get her day started. She thought it was high time she got back to normal, as best she could, and not let all the new things happening around her change that. Because of her determination she had breakfast made and Joanna out the door to the schoolhouse in record time.

When she’d made it back to the house, Thomas was already hard at work, and she quickly joined him. Back in their old rhythm they made quick work of most of the morning chores. They’d paused their work to discuss possible future repairs to the tool shed when they both heard hooves coming up the dirt drive to the house. They both turned toward the sound. Eliza squinted toward the mysterious visitor, shielding her eyes from the sun. “I better go see who it is.” She told Thomas. “Hopefully it won’t keep me too long.” She said to herself.

She didn’t recognize the horse they road, and despite the decreasing distance she still couldn’t tell who road it. She walked quickly to the house to hopefully beat them to the front door. When she stepped into the kitchen, she grabbed a towel from the counter and wiped her face and hands of what dust and grime she imagined coated her skin.

She made it to the door just as the visitor knocked and she opened it and went to greet Randall Perry with a surprised smile. “Mr. Perry.” She said, a little shock on her face.

“Surprised to see me?” He asked, his typical sly smile peeking out.

“I didn’t expect visitors,” She replied. “Especially not you, no offense intended.” She gestured him inside. “At least it’s not Aunt Clara,” she told herself.

“None taken.” She smiled and stepped into the living room where she’d led him. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“I was just working on the daily chores.” She told him. “We have quite a lot to do when you’re in charge of a home and farm. Was there something I could help you with?” She asked as they sat.

“Oh, no. I was just hoping to visit with you.” He said. “Just the two of us.” That smile, the one she wasn’t sure she could trust, widened.

“Well, Thomas is outside working still.” She told him, unsure. “But I suppose I can spare a few moments.” She realized they were sitting in the same places where they’d sat when she’d received him and her aunt last time. “Can I get you anything? Tea perhaps?” She asked.

“No thank you.” He replied kindly. “I was wondering, though, if you’ve decided whether or not to join us in the city?” He asked. “We will be planning on leaving in the next few weeks or so.”

“I have not.” She paused to come up with an excuse. “I’m just not sure I’d be a good idea to miss a day of work here.” She said. “What with having to get used to doing it all on my own now. Without my parents.” She lied. Mostly. “I’m sure you don’t have to worry yourself much about getting work done on your property.”

“I’ll have you know,” he began, “I have done my fair share of farm labor.” He said, half serious.

“Oh, I’m sure you have. You just don’t seem the type for every day farm tasks.” She glances slyly at his perfect hands and neat nails. Not a callus in sight. She made a point to tuck hers away.

“While I have been helping my father with more of the business side of late, I still get my hands dirty once in a while,” he smiled. “I assure you, I’m just as capable as anyone else.”

“I’m sure you are, Mr. Perry,” She said. “But for now I have my own work to take care of. I’m sure Thomas is wondering where I’ve gotten off too.”

As if on cue, they both heard the door open and close in the kitchen, and Thomas calling. “Eliza, the hay has been delivered,” he began, pausing when he walked into the room and saw Mr. Perry. He cleared his throat as Eliza and her guest stood.

“Good morning, Mr. Fox.”

“Good morning,” Thomas practically grunted. He turned to Eliza. “I just wanted to let you know. I go start unloading now.”

“I’ll be right out to help you, Thomas,” Eliza said, about to make excuses to Randall.

“I would be glad to offer my assistance, Miss Alcott.” He said. “I’d be happy to help Thomas myself.

“That’s completely unnecessary,” Eliza started.

“I can take care of if myself,” Thomas looked at Eliza, waiting for her to agree.

“I insist. With both of us, Thomas, I’m sure we’ll make quick work.” He turned to Eliza. “And since you rejected my previous offer of hired help, I think you could at least allow me this.” He smiled that of his, the one that she couldn’t help but wonder if many young women have resisted.

After a moment of deliberation she relented. “Fine,” She said despite Thomas’ poorly hidden look of shock. “It’ll get the job done quickly, and we can get back to regular chores.” She told them both. She really just wanted to see if Mr. Randall Perry could handle a little hard labor. And maybe see if he and Thomas could actually stare each other to death.

In a few short minutes the three of them were out back, Eliza purposely standing out of their way, as the wagonload of hay bales was backed closer to the barn. Randall had removed his jacket and left it in the kitchen as they’d walked through the house, and he rolled the sleeves of his expensive white shirt up to his elbows.

As the two men began work, they expertly avoided each other, not speaking but not clashing or getting in each other’s way either. Eliza watched them work, climbing in and out of the wagon, tossing bales of hay. Had she done the same work, as she’d planned, it would have taken her twice as long, and she’d have been out of breath after a few bales. They unloaded the bales, and the delivery driver rode off with his empty wagon, as Thomas and Randall took turns loading the bales into barn and up to the loft.

The morning sun was turning into a heated afternoon as the men finished up. Eliza drew two buckets of water from the well, and set them out for Thomas and Randall to cool off when they finished. As she watched them splash cool water on their faces and necks, she had to admit she was surprised my Randal’s hard work. She knew Thomas could do it, that came as no surprise. But seeing Mr. Perry, of all people, able to keep up with someone she considered a strong, hard worker, it was safe to say he’d proven himself. She was loath to admit it out loud, just as she was loath to admit she noticed that the water dampening his shirt may or may not have made it sheer.

After they’d finished cooling off, she watched as Thomas turned to Randall. She couldn’t make out what he said, but she could tell he wasn’t happy about offering his hand to Randall. They shook, barely nodded at each other, but didn’t smile. Eliza wondered what they had against each other as Randall walked over to her.

“Have I proven myself a hard worker yet?” He asked smiling, and still a little damp.

“You can throw a bale of hay or two. But I thought you were just offering assistance.” She said, “Where you just trying to prove yourself?”

He laughed, throwing his head back, dark hair sticking to his forehead. “You are a hard woman to please, Miss. Alcott.” He took her hand from her side and bent down kissed her knuckles, as had become habit. When he did so, Eliza saw Thomas looked in their direction, clearly unhappy.

When Randall looked back up at her, he was still smiling. “Although I hate to see this evening end, I must me going. Maybe next time you’ll have made your decision about the trip?”

“Maybe,” She said.

Some time later, Eliza was preparing to head out to get Joanna from school, when she returned to the barn where Thomas was. He was prepping the horse and wagon for her, and she rubbed the mare’s nose when she neared. “Are you upset that I took him up on his offer to help?” She asked.

After a moment of silence he responded. “This is your home and farm, it’s not up to me who you bring in to help.”

“I didn’t bring him in, Thomas. He offered.” She clarified. “And I just wanted to see if he could actually work.” She admitted with a shrug.

“He can.” He said. “I knew he could.”

“Well, I didn’t. How do you know?” She asked, curious now.

“I’ve worked for his family before.” He revealed. Still not looking at her. “Against my better judgement.”

She was surprised, considering all his protestations that the Perrys were not to be trusted. Why would he work for

someone he didn’t trust? “When? You spend so much time here, when have you been able to work elsewhere?”

“Are you angry that I take my skills elsewhere?” He asked, rather shortly for his typical behavior.

“No, Thomas, of course not.” She said, taken aback. “If you needed more work, more money you could have told me. I’m trying to make things work financially, but—.”

“Not you, not in some time.” He blurted, afraid he’d upset her. “Before,” he paused. “Before you’re parents passed.”

Eliza looked at him, confused. When had they not paid him? Has there been money problems much longer than she’d thought.

“Don’t worry about it. I have what I need now. I’ll help here as long as I’m needed, regardless.” He said. “Put the place and the finances to rights, I’ll be here. As long as you’ll have me, Eliza.” He placed a hand on her upper arm and squeezed, trying to comfort the worry that was plain on her face.

They stood there for a moment, as his hand lingered and they held each other’s gaze. Then, as if she knew the moment was growing long, and it was time to go, the mare snorted and nudge Eliza. Startled, Eliza stumbled into Thomas, and they both laughed at the horse. When they stopped, his arms were around her, and her hands were on his chest.

They smiled up at each other, then they realized how very close they were. They cleared their throats. “I should go, Joanna will be waiting.”

“Yes, I’ll finish up here.” Thomas said.

They parted and Eliza climbed into the wagon seat. She settled herself in and urged the horse forward with a gentle snap if the reigns. When she glanced back after pulling out of the barn, Thomas was watching her go. She smiled at their moment, blushing. She couldn’t decide if she was glad the horse interrupted or not.

*if you’re just arriving here, you may go back to the start by clicking the image at the very top of the post

“What the Heart Wants” 8

02 Saturday Feb 2019

Posted by in Choose Your Adventure, Fiction, Story 1, what the heart wants

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

, , , , ,

The next morning Eliza woke with smile on her face and a blush still lingering in her cheeks. She had vague memories of dreaming of Thomas’ kiss. It surely wouldn’t be much to anyone else, but in her young life, it was something special.

She smiled from the moment she climbed out of bed through breakfast with Joanna. After they’d eaten and cleared the table, they climbed in the wagon and rode into town to the schoolhouse. Once she’d waved goodbye to her sister, she headed back home to do more chores. She had plenty to keep her busy until she had to go back into town, get Joanna and meet their aunt Clara at the dress shop. When she arrived home, she saw that Thomas was already working.

“I wonder what today will be like?” She asked herself. After a moment that between them that ended awkwardly two nights ago, then the rollercoaster that was yesterday, she could only hope for no tension this time.

“Good morning, Thomas,” she greeted him as he approached. A blush bloomed on her cheeks as she unwillingly remembered the night before. She hoped he couldn’t tell in the bright morning sunshine.

“Good morning, Miss Eliza,” he said quietly, a smile on his face. “How was Miss Joanna this morning?” He asked as he filled one of the water buckets at the well.

The morning was already looking better than the one before. “Fine,” she said, “She loves to learn so she was glad to be back to it.” She smiled and grabbed a bucket to help him water the horses. “How are you this morning?”

Thomas waited to set the bucket down before he answered. “I’m well,” he smiled down at her. “Thank you for having me at dinner last night.”

“Oh,” she began, “Joanna did invite you without telling me!” She laughed. “But you are welcome, always.” She told him honestly. They smiled at each other for a moment, not realizing how long they’d lingered, until a horse snorted in their direction.

Both laughed awkwardly, the proceeded to fill the trough with water.

The rest of the morning went smoothly—almost like before her parents had died—except for the not-so-unpleasant awkwardness between them. That was new.

By afternoon they were nearly done, and Eliza had to go into town. She told him goodbye, then went to change out of her farm worn clothes and into something fresh.

Once into town her first stop before the schoolhouse was Spring Haven’s only general store, where she needed to pick up some items for farm and home.

A tiny bell tinkled as she stepped inside Harold’s General Store, alerting Harold himself in the back room. He stepped out as Eliza was browsing his wares. “Good afternoon, Miss Alcott!” He greeted cheerfully.

Harold was always friendly and had been quite close to Arthur Alcott. Eliza could remember many afternoons spent in this very store, listening as her father and Harold chatted and bargained. “Hello Harold!” She smiled, “How are you today?”

“Why, quite well, indeed! I hope all is well with you and young Joanna?”

“Very well, thank you Harold.” She answered. “I’m just needing a few items today,” she told him pulling out a slip of paper with her list penciled on it. She handed it to him and he pushed his glasses up on his nose and looked it over.

“Why I can take care of all this. Matter of fact,” he said, “We just got a load of chicken feed in yesterday. We can have it all loaded in a few minutes.”

“Lovely,” she said. “I have the wagon parked right out front. I just have to walk over to the schoolhouse if that’s alright?”

“Perfect, Miss Alcott,” Harold replied. He paused a moment, his smile fading just slightly. “And will you be paying today, or placing it on the family account?” He asked quietly.

“Today, if that’s alright.” She answered. “I know my father’s account needs paid, Harold. I don’t want to add more to it.” She said solemnly.

“Oh, now,” Harold sighed. “I know he was good for it. He just didn’t get the chance to settle it.” Harold seemed sad, suddenly.

“I’m not sure how he planned to, unless he’s stashed something away,” Eliza tried to sound cheerful as she handed over payment. “But I will take care of it,” she promised him.

“Whenever you can, there’s no rush. He was a friend.” He said. “As was your mother, and as you and Miss Joanna remain.” He was smiling once more.

Eliza was just a bit on edge when she stepped out of the general store a few minutes later. Thinking of the finances left behind after her parents’ passing always made her tense. But she would have to get used to it, it was her responsibility now. She made herself put a smile on her face, as she walked down the street to the schoolhouse.

She only had to wait a few minutes for Joanna to come bouncing out of the schoolhouse door. She immediately spotted her big sister and bounded over and hugged her. This would always put a smile on Eliza’s face.

“Did you have a good day?” Eliza asked sarcastically.

Joanna giggled. “Yes! We’re learning to read more words, and I couldn’t help thinking about our new dresses!” Eliza

had to force herself not to tense up, remembering her Aunt Clara.

“That’s our first stop!” She told her.

The dress shop was just a short walk away, Spring Haven was a small town. And like the general store there was only one dress shop in town as well. “Mrs. Hattie’s Dresses” it was called, and while they’d shopped there before, most of the dresses had been mended and repaired by their mother. Mrs. Hattie herself had offered Rose a job a time or two.

Stepping into the store Eliza and Joanna were immediately greeted with the colors and textures of all manner of fabric and lace. There wasn’t anything quite like a dress shop to make a girl feel more feminine. And living on a farm with chores in the dirt often took that feeling away.

Joanna was touching a lovely pink sample of fabric when they heard Aunt Clara’s all to familiar voice. “My dear nieces! You finally made it!” She said, making it sound as if she’d waited for hours.

“Hello Aunt Clara.” Eliza was already dreading the experience.

Mrs. Hattie stepped into the room and greeted the girls. Her cheerful bubbly demeanor was a welcome interruption. “Eliza and oh, little Joanna, you both have grown so much!” She squeezed the girls in a friendly hug, a hug that Eliza would imagine an aunt would give. Just not the one they had.

“Mrs. Hattie,” Eliza began with a smile. “Its not been a week since you saw us last, how could we have grown that much?” She asked, laughing.

“Oh, pish tosh, Eliza.” She chuckled. “Black isn’t very becoming on anyone, dear!” They both glanced at Aunt Clara, who, it seemed, had yet to come out of her mourning clothes. “Oh, I cannot wait to work on dresses for the both of you!”

“Well, that is what we’re here for, after all.” Clara finally spoke up. She’d been looking down her nose at a swatch of fabric. “Do you have any sample dresses?” She asked, letting a fabric swatch fall as if it disgusted her. “We’d love to get some ideas.”

“Of course, Mrs. Wilkes!” Hattie said cheerfully. “They’re right this way.” She led the girls to a separate room where dresses were stored on hangers, packed in an open wardrobe. “I have all the latest styles and patterns! Ordered straight from Newfield!” Hattie was proud of her selection.

Eliza figured Clara would brighten at the sound of her favorite place. “Well, that should do nicely.” Clara templed her fingers together. “Let’s try on dresses shall we, dear?!”

Eliza groaned inwardly and looked down at Joanna, who was positively shaking with joy. “This is going to be a long afternoon,” she thought.

After what felt like hours and hundreds of dresses, Eliza finally found one that she didn’t hate, and her aunt approved of. There were more ruffles than she cared for, but much less than the last several. Joanna, of course loved all the trimmings, and had picked a lovely pattern with ruffles and lace and had chosen a lovely blush pink.

Eliza was still standing in her selection, as Hattie and Aunt Clara discussed colors. She was tired and wanted nothing more than to go home, put on her farm dress, and get her hands dirty. She was just contemplating getting to roll up her sleeves and pluck a chicken for dinner when she heard the door to the shop open. “Hello.”

All the ladies turned to see where the voice came from. It was none other than Randal Perry. What was he doing in Mrs. Hattie’s Dress Shoppe? “Oh, hello ladies.” He smiled broadly at each of them, focusing last on Eliza. “Am I interrupting?”

“Oh, Mr. Perry!” Aunt Clara exclaimed. She was quite excited to see him.

“Mrs. Wilkes, a pleasure as always.” He kissed her offered hand. “I was just here to pick up my mother’s dress.” He looked at Mrs. Hattie. “You said it would be ready.” He smiled his smile at her, the one that confused Eliza. It apparently did different things to other people.

Mrs. Hattie giggled and grinned at him, fluttering her eyes, apparently flattered that he’d even looked her way. “Oh, yes, Mr. Perry!” She smiled broadly. “It’s right in the back, I’ll just go fetch it!” She hurried off in a flutter to fetch the dress and he returned his attention to the rest of them.

“Miss Joanna.” He spoke, smiling down at the girl. “How are you?” Joanna, her usual shy self, hid herself as best she could in a bundle of skirts handing on a rack. Mr. Perry chuckled pleasantly. “My sister is looking forward to seeing you again.” Joanna peaked out of the dresses at him and smiled sheepishly. “Perhaps you could come to the house one evening?” He asked.

Joanna simply looked at Eliza, leading Randal Perry’s eyes to her as well. “Only if your big sister approves?” He asked.

Eliza cleared her suddenly dry throat. “We shall see.” She told him.

“We shall,” he said. He paused, and Eliza could see and feel him looking at her, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You look lovely,” he said.

After a long silence that seemed to last hours, she managed, “Thank you,” just as Mrs. Hattie entered the room, a garment bag held gently in her arms.

“Here we are, Mr. Perry!” She said cheerfully, as usual. The thick air was lightened and Eliza was pulled out of her trance and turned away.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hattie. I’m sure mother will be glad to have it back.” She smiled at him. “Please put it on our bill.” He said. “Ladies, its been a pleasure,” he smiled at each of them. Eliza could see the reflection of his eyes lingering on her from the mirror.

Once he was out the door, Aunt Clara spoke up. “Have the Perry’s been customers of yours for a while?” She asked.

“Why yes, as long as I’ve been in business!” She said. “Lovely people, really.”

“Well,” Clara began. “I knew I had good taste.” She said, as if she hadn’t been critical of Mrs. Hattie’s wares the moment she’d walked in. “Now, lets get started on these lovely dresses!”

Sometime later, everyone was tired, especially Joanna, who’d begun to doze in the corner near a pile of scrap fabric, and Hattie and Clara were just finishing the order for the dresses. “Thank you, again, Hattie, for staying so late with us,” Eliza said. “I know you must be exhausted.”

She laughed, “Not quite as tired as that one.” She tipped her head in Joanna’s direction and smiled sweetly at the girl. “It was lovely to see you both.” She walked over to Eliza and hugged her tightly. “If you ever need anything, you be sure to let me know.” She insisted as she let her go.

“I shall, Hattie. Thank you.”

As they were walking to the wagon, Eliza practically carrying the sleepy Joanna, she could help but wish her Aunt Cara was a little more like Mrs. Hattie.

When they’d reached home, Thomas was still there, despite the sun having nearly set, and he helped by unloading the wagon in the barn while Eliza tucked Joanna into bed. She waved goodbye to him as he rode away for the night.

When she finally crawled into bed herself, she couldn’t help but wish her mother and father were there to tell her goodnight and wish her sweet dreams. Would her life be less complicated if they were still alive? As she drifted off to sleep, she was sure it would.

Welcome to Spring Haven

14 Wednesday Nov 2018

Posted by in Audience participation, Choose Your Adventure, Fiction, Story 1

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , ,

“Established with the first settlers, Spring Haven is a small town nestled in rolling hills. The town was named for the gentle spring that runs off the highest peak in the area, which contributes to the fertility of the of the land, making it the perfect area for farmers wanting to settle and start a new life. Every spring, daisies blossom in the fields, brightening the dusty roads between farmhouses, contributing to the quaintness the long term residents appreciate.

Some of the families that founded Spring Haven still reside in the small town, the proud legacy of the first families encourages pride in the other residents. Determined to ensure the growth and stability of the town, they do their part in bringing more to the beloved and beautiful town of Spring Haven.”

I chose Spring Haven as the town name in “What the Heart Wants” because, between it and “Daisy Hollow” the other finalist, something about it just called to me. While I knew weighing a few days of the last poll which two would come out on top, I had no idea how the winning name would be chosen. And since I hadn’t voted in any of the polls I decided I had to make the finally decision.

Thank you to everyone who voted, or participated in any way. It is appreciated and I’m grateful that you were able to bear with me for so long!

My promise to you all now is to have the next chapter up by Monday night. EVERY Monday night! From here in out, unless there’s an issue, my goal is to have a new chapter every week!

As always, thanks for reading!

-c

“What the Heart Wants” 6

16 Sunday Sep 2018

Posted by in Choose Your Adventure, Fiction, Story 1

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , ,

When the sun rose the next morning, Eliza didn’t get right out of bed to start her day. She laid under the covers and wished the sun away. Having gone to bed let, she hadn’t slept well. Her mind had raced back and forth between the events of the dinner at The Perry’s and then later with Thomas. And after what had, or hadn’t, happened with Thomas, she wasn’t sure she could to face him.

She’d thrown the covers over her head and was contemplating never coming out when Joanna skipped into the room and climbed onto her bed. “Good morning, Eliza,” she whispered to the blankets. She giggled happily when Eliza grabbed her and tickled her. Soon after, with a smile on her face, Eliza climbed out of bed to get dressed, and went downstairs.

After breakfast, Joanna went outside to feed the chickens, her favorite activity, and Eliza took her time cleaning up after the meal. As she washed dishes, she looked outside and saw Thomas working on the daily chores. She felt a mix of emotions about what happened between them. Confusion and frustration were among them.

But she also wasn’t sure what she felt about dinner with Randall Perry, either. She was unsure how to take his interest in her, much less what his mother, Lilith, had said to her. What had she meant that she’d be “just like the others”? What others, how many others? She’d heard rumors about Randall Perry, mostly while in school and mostly in passing. He’d made a reputation for himself, but she didn’t know too many details.

Eliza had known Thomas for many years, he’d spent most of his time on her family’s farm, helping with anything her father had asked of him. They’d basically grown up together. He was a hard worker, kind, and she considered him a friend. His family hadn’t had a great deal as he was growing, which was part of the reason he’d worked for Arthur Alcott. And yet he still worked for Eliza, even as she was unsure she would be able to pay him.

She stood gazing out the window, contemplating the differences between Thomas and Randall Perry, staring at nothing really, when she noticed that Thomas saw her at the window. He’d stopped what he was doing to look back at her. But when their eyes locked, she quickly looked away. In the second it’d taken her to glance back he’d looked away with his head down, eyes on his work. Eliza sighed and went about putting the clean dishes away.

After she had finished, she took a deep breath and stepped outside, knowing she’d have to face Thomas sooner or later. She walked with purposeful steps toward the barn, wondering what tasks needed her attention. When she entered the barn, Thomas was there, tossing hay into the stalls. He looked up at her and quickly looked away without a word.

“Good morning, Thomas.” She greeted.

“Good morning, Miss Eliza.” He responded without looking away from his work.

“Fine,” she thought. She didn’t know whether to be disappointed or offended.
She left the barn, to check on Joanna and the chickens. When she arrived, Joanna was collecting eggs from the nesting boxes.

“Look how many eggs they’ve laid this morning, Eliza!” She exclaimed.

“Wow, they’ve really outdone themselves!” Eliza began helping her sister collect the many eggs, placing them in the pockets of their aprons. Once they were done, she asked,

“Have you fed and watered them already? They deserve a good meal after all this!”

“Yes! I did it first thing, they were very glad to see me!”
Eliza chuckled. “I’m sure they were!”

After collecting the eggs, they closed and latched the gate behind them and began walking back to the house. They were walking gingerly and giggling at the egg predicament, when they crossed paths with Thomas once more. “Good morning, Thomas!” Joanna greeted cheerily.

“Good morning, Miss Joanna.” He responded with a smile. He looked up at Eliza and nodded wordlessly.

“Joanna, go on ahead and take the eggs inside, I’ll be right behind you!” Eliza told her sister, who smiled and walked on. Once she was out of earshot Eliza turned her attention to Thomas. “Is there something wrong, Thomas?” She asked.

“No, ma’am,” he said. He was holding an empty bucket and turned to walk away.

“Is there a reason you’re not speaking to me, today?” She asked, following him.

He bent down to fill the bucket with water. “Just trying to do the job I’ve be hired to do.”

“Right,” She said. “Well, I suppose we didn’t hire you to talk, did we?” She said and turned away. She felt a little harsh for what she’d said but turned back to the house instead of admitting it, continued on toward the door. She wasn’t sure anything she’d don’t warranted his rather cool behavior, so she decided she wouldn’t apologize. She turned back, and he was walking away without a word. “I suppose,” she began “I should tell you that I’ve decided to take Mr. Perry up on his offer and accompany him to the city.” She watched as he stopped walking. He didn’t turn around, but his shoulders slumped, slightly.

Eliza turned around and rushed into the house before she said anything else she might regret.

 

It quickly became obvious to Eliza that she hadn’t given her decision much thought beyond wanting a reaction from Thomas. A wall seemed to have gone up between them overnight, seemingly because of what had almost happened. Just thinking about his eyes staring into hers, his hand brushing her cheek, ever so gently. She got a dizzy feeling in her stomach and pushed the thought away.

She hadn’t quite figured anything out, in fact. Life had seemed so perfectly content and slow until recently, then everything seemed to be happening so fast. And now she’d made a rash decision without thinking about it first. She was sure her parents would be disappointed.

Instead of continuing to linger on the thought, Eliza went about the house looking for things to do. Joanna was in her room playing, keeping herself company, so Eliza decided to once again venture to her parents’ room to her mother’s chest. This time she wasn’t looking for anything, just something to remind her of her mother, and to clear her mind.

The chest was filled with more dresses and mementos from Rose Alcott’s youth, and a few things from when her daughters were small. Sentimental was one thing Eliza’s mother was that her father was not. Arthur had many enduring qualities, but keepsakes hadn’t been his cup of tea. Rose was the keeper of the two.

Toward the bottom of the chest were some worn leather-bound books Eliza hadn’t seen before. She opened the cover of the most worn edition, and inside was her mother’s name: Rose Fitz. Fitz had been Eliza’s mother’s surname before she’d married Arthur Alcott. Eliza had stumbled upon her mother’s childhood journals.