WRITING:

The city lights winked by me as I drove down the almost empty freeway. No place to go, nowhere to be. Just me and a million miles of road ahead. Oh, and the hundred thousand dollars I stole from my ex-fiance. The jerk. Yeah. The one with the big fancy car in the big fancy house on the big fancy beach. the one who stood me up at the alter to boink my money-hungry best friend, Dinah. His name is Derek. Derek Grayson III. Maybe I should start from the beginning.

I was born and raised in a small town on the outskirts of Maine. There weren't many kids to play with or much to do, so I spent the majority of my teenage years helping my dad fix cars at his shop.

[on notebook paper I found written by me, God only knows when...]

WRITING: Eve & Lilly

     Her face, if you could call it that, was mere inches from mine. One eyeball hung from its socket, dangling loosely by a wire thin chord. The left side of her mouth was still intact, lips twisted upward while the other half had been ripped clean off, bare teeth and jaw forming a grotesque smile. Two holes stood where nasal cavities once connected to the flesh and bone of a cute button nose.  This shell of my daughter cocked its head sideways and let out a long moan...

     I opened my eyes and let out a yelp as the face of my eleven year old danced in front of me, fully intact and smiling.

     “Good morning, Mummy,” Lilly sang, “Time to get up!” She had crawled onto the bed and laid next to me, already dressed and ready for school.

     I crinkled my nose and blinked several times, trying to gain focus. “Why are you in such a good mood?” I mumbled, wondering if I was still dreaming. Getting her up in the morning was usually a three-round boxing match.  

     “Today is the field trip, duh! Don’t forget to pack me a lunch.” She scootched off the bed and pulled back my covers, urging me to get moving. I swung my legs over the side, slid my feet into some slippers and dragged myself into the kitchen, ready to take on the day.

     Lilly must’ve let the dogs out because there they stood, greeting me from the other side of the sliding glass door tails wagging, tongues lolling, waiting for their morning feeding. I slid the glass open and was almost knocked over when Snooki came bounding in, all fifty pounds of her, shoving herself through the opening before I could get it all the way. The smaller one, Roxy, followed skittishly in her stead, looking up at me for permission to enter. “Come on, silly,” I said, calling her in. I filled their bowls and pulled my long blond hair into a ponytail to keep it out of the way while I made breakfast.

     “Eggs and toast okay?” I asked, switching on the stove and grabbing the eggs out of the fridge.

     “Sure,” Lilly smiled, and shot off down the hall and back into her room. When she came out, she had her backpack slung over one shoulder and my cell phone in hand, intently playing the Angry Birds app that she was so addicted to.

     “Eat,” I said, placing her plate of food and glass of chocolate milk at the table. “I’ll be out as soon as I’m ready.” I glanced at the microwave and saw that I had just under twenty minutes to get ready for work. I padded down the hallway and quickly threw on my black polo shirt, the emblem for Ocala National Bank richly embroidered on its left side, and tucked it into a pair of boot cut jeans.

     I had my toothbrush hanging out of my mouth and deodorant in my hand when Lilly bellowed “MOM! We’re going to be late!” from the front of the house. I finished in the bathroom, threw on my black flats and hauled ass out to the living room where Lilly stood, one eyebrow up, and a brown paper bag held high.

     “I made my own lunch, thank you very much,” she stated, smugly. “I also put my dishes in the dishwasher and put Snooki and Roxy in their crate. I’ve got your keys, your phone and your purse. Let’s get this show on the road.” With that, she twisted on her heel and walked out the front door, leaving it open in her wake. I could do nothing but giggle and follow her, wondering sometimes exactly who took care of who.

WRITING/PROMPT: A Note From the Past

[Prompt: Playing in the hallway one day, your kids accidentally bump into your grandfather clock, which has been in the family for years. As it smashes into the ground, you find a note hidden inside from your great grandfather, who died two months after you were born. Strangely enough, the note is addressed to you.]

“You’re never gonna catch me!” Bailey squealed as she raced out of the living room and into the long hall, her older sister, Taylor, only steps behind her. 

“Bring that back you little rodent!” Taylor fumed as she followed Bailey onto the wood floor, arms stretched in front of her in attempt to catch the thief. Her fingers had almost reached the corner of Bailey’s makeshift flying cape before the smaller one tripped over her own feet and tumbled. Taylor, unable to stop in time, echoed her sister’s movements and they both careened to a stop, sliding into the massive grandfather clock at the end of the corridor.

My heart leapt out of my chest when I heard the deafening crash.  I sped from the kitchen to where the girls were, praying to God that they were alright as I rounded the corner. All I could see was the tip of the clock pointing at me and two little pairs of legs sticking out of the gap. I froze for a millisecond, water dripping from the plastic dish gloves before fight-or-flight kicked in and I rushed over to them, lifting the heavy clock enough for them to escape from beneath. It landed all the way on the ground with a loud thud.

Two little sets of eyes stared at me, huge and waiting for me to unleash my wrath. When all I did was swoop them both into a giant hug and start checking each body part for damage, they couldn’t believe it. Satisfied that both were perfectly okay, I took a second look at the two and sighed. “I have not been that scared in a long, long time and right now, I am so thankful that neither of you was seriously hurt,” I said, turning back toward the clock, which has been in my family as long as I can remember.  “The clock, on the other hand, does not look so good.” My hands were still shaking as I looked down and realized I still hadn’t taken my gloves off. Something on the ground caught my eye as I peeled the plastic first from one hand and then the other. I bent over to pick up what looked like a piece of paper. It was folded and dusty and yellowed with time

“What is it, mommy?” Taylor asked. I almost jumped, having forgotten the girls were still there.

“I don’t know, sweetpea. Let’s have a look.”  I knew Brad would yell at me if I tried to stand it back up by myself, so I made my way back into the kitchen, leaving the clock in its downed position. The gloves made a smacking sound as I threw them on the counter and focused on the paper in my hand. Opened, it was the size of a half sheet, and on it was a note from my great grandfather.

  

Caroline, there are two of you. Don’t believe their lies, you need to find your sister.

WRITING/PROMPT: The Hidden Room

[@Writersdigest.com - Weekly Writing Prompt: While preparing your garden at the beginning of spring, you find the blueprints for your house buried in the earth. When you pull it out and examine it, you find that there is a room in the blueprint that doesn’t exist in your house. Both disturbed and intrigued, you set off to find the missing room. Write what happens next.]   

     "The bags of mulch," my mother stated, looking intently at me as if I knew what she was talking about.
     "What?" I asked, confused as usual.
     "The bags of mulch aren't going to move themselves, Lucy." She sighed and stabbed the bag of red mulch with her shovel, pushing it in my direction. "Open one and start dragging it along the border I made."
     I only made it a step or two before she barked, "Wait!" I stopped, Mother-May-I style.
     "Put these on first," she threw a pair of cloth gloves at me, which I obediently slid over my hands.
     This was not how I wanted to spend my first free Saturday in months, spreading mulch and playing in the dirt. But if we were going to sell the house, it needed to be done. So I walked over to where she stood, grabbed the first plastic sack and began to unload its contents where she'd told me to. Seconds later, I heard a clank and my mother's poorly hidden stream of curse words. I looked over my shoulder to find her poking at the dirt with the metal shovel tip.
     "There's something here," she said.
     "It's probably just a root or something," I said, wiping the sweat from my forehead before it dripped into my eyes. God, I hated living in Florida. The humidity was unbearable.
     "Roots don't clank." She dug around some more until a round metal tin surfaced enough for us to get it the rest of the way out. It was a simple metal cylinder about the size of a paper towel roll, capped at one end, no marks, no...well, nothing.
     We looked at it like it was an alien life form. "What the hell is that thing?" I voiced the thought that was running through both our minds.
     "Hell if I know," she answered. "Let's open it and see?" The last was more of a question than anything. She finally looked at me instead of the container, basically asking my permission to open it.
     "Go for it. The worst it could do is chop off your hand," I shrugged my shoulders and giggled as she flung it to the ground.
     "Oh, sheesh, Ma, I was just kidding." I bent down and picked it up for myself, expecting it to be heavier than it was. Nothing happened when I popped it open. A monster didn't jump out at me, no mysterious smoke came pouring out the top, which from the look on my mom's face, is what she had expected to happen. I tipped it upside down and a rolled up paper came sliding out.

     “Who buries their blueprints in the front yard?” I asked, incredulous. Here I was, thinking we’d hit some big lottery winnings or something really interesting and all I got for my excitement was a sheet of paper with a blue sketch on it. Yippee.

     Without looking at it any further, I shoved the design back into the tube and smacked the top closed.  It’s too bad… there was a lot more to that old house than first glance.

WRITING:

     There was no moon in the sky tonight. I sat, legs crossed on the front porch swing, the cherry of my Marlboro the only light in the quiet blackness.

     The wind picked up. A relaxing whisper of cool air in the otherwise stuffy heat of Florida weather. Usually, I liked sitting alone. But not tonight. Something about the whispering wind had my heart racing.
     I flicked my cigarette and stood up. It was then that I noticed it. A shadow. Barely visible at the end of the driveway. I was afraid to move. Afraid to breathe. Maybe if I just stood completely still...

WRITING: The Beginning of the End

Her face, if you could call it that, was mere inches from mine. One eyeball hung from its socket, dangling loosely by a wire thin chord. The left side of her mouth was still intact, lips twisted upward while the other half had been ripped clean off, bare teeth and jaw forming a grotesque smile. Two holes stood where nasal cavities once connected to the flesh and bone of a cute button nose.

WRITING: Work in progress

     An awkward silence swept across the room as she stepped in.  Heads swiveled in her direction, eyes filled with sorrow, faces bathed in pity. She gripped the textbooks even tighter to her chest, so tight that her knuckles turned ashen and her fingers lost all feeling. Her gaze turned down as she walked past them, steadying her sights on the tiled floor until she found her desk. The loud drone of the bell signaled the beginning of class and along with it returned the normal hustle and bustle of student chatter.

     "Welcome back, Tess," acknowledged Mr. Pierce from the front of the small room. "It's good to see you."

     She managed a slight nod and what could be construed as a mumbled "yeah," praying that he would just get on with the lesson.

WRITING: Summer Romance Contest

[This was an entry into the Summer Romance short story contest on Figment - 1200 words or less]

The moon stood low in the sky, an orange tint covering its surface. As I looked at it, images of random horror movies played in my head and I shivered.

“Are you cold?” a voice asked from the darkness.

“Yeah,” I said, and I wasn’t lying. The temperature had dropped in the last couple of days as the season headed into winter. I turned to Noah and smiled although it was hardly noticeable in the faint moonlight. We were sitting on the front porch of his house, swinging on the wooden bench that hung from overhead.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked, although I was pretty sure I already knew the answer.

It was a second before he spoke. “Jess.”

For a guy as macho as Noah seemed to be, I never thought the tears would come so easily.

“Noah…” I started, not sure what to say. Instead, I searched for his hand and just held it. He squeezed it lightly and then looked at me.

“I just got off the phone with her,” he said. “She never wants to see me again.”

“I’m sorry. I really am.” I could see the pain on his face and I didn’t want to push him, but I wanted him to know that I was his friend. “If you want to talk about it, I’m always here.”

“Thanks. But there’s not a lot to say. She just doesn’t want me anymore.”

“Noah, don’t be so hard on yourself. Two years is a long time. People change. Especially since it’s our senior year of high school. She has a lot to think about. She’s probably just confused. Give her time.”

“What if she doesn’t ever come back?”

“You’ll be fine. Soon you’ll be up and running again. It may take a while for you to get over her. You don’t just stop loving someone, but one day you’ll wake up and her face won’t be the first thing that you see. And you’ll be a better person for getting on with your life. She’ll always be a part you, your first love always is, but you will move on.”

As I sat there and comforted him, I felt like a fraud. I’d realized only days ago that I was in love with him, yet he was forbidden territory because of Jess. Now, there was no Jess, and although it tore me up to see him sad, a little voice in the back of my head was jumping for joy. Right now, though, what Noah really needed was a friend and that’s all I would ever be. He was never going to find out my true feelings.

My own thoughts had run away and it took me a minute to realize he was staring at me.

“What?” I asked. “Is my hair sticking up or something?” I smiled at him and before I knew it he was kissing me and Lord help me, I was kissing him. But then I remembered that less than two weeks ago he’d told me that I was like ‘one of the guys’ and my head snapped back.

“Don’t,” I said to him.

“Cassie…” I’d never heard him say my name that way.

“I don’t want to be your rebound.”

“You’re not,” he denied softly.

“I would be. You know it and I know it. And that’s not fair to me.”

He didn’t speak. Just stared at the ground. So I stood and said goodbye. He looked up as if he were about to say something, then stopped. “Goodbye,” he whispered instead.

At that, I turned and walked to my car almost falling into the seat as my knees buckled. Now my emotions were in crisis mode. I didn’t know what to do. So I simply drove home, changed into a t-shirt and pajama bottoms and laid down. I stayed awake for some time. When sleep finally hit, it was deep and full of dreams of Noah.

* * *

Two days had passed by and still, I hadn’t heard from Noah, which was unusual. So I called him and when he didn’t answer, I left a quick message but he never called back. I decided to stop by his house the next day to see how he was doing. My heart dropped as I turned the corner and saw Jess’s car sitting in his driveway. Without stopping, I passed his house went straight home and cried.

* * *

The summer was almost over before I saw Noah again. I was outside, washing my car when he pulled up behind me. I almost dropped the hose when I saw him step out. He’d gotten his hair cut and looked even cuter than I remembered.

“Hi, Cassie,” he said as he walked up.

“Hi, yourself,” I replied, coolly.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” he said, fiddling with the keys in his hand.

“That’s not my fault,” I said, already getting defensive.

“I know,” he looked at a loss for words. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call, but I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me.”

I threw down the rag in my hand and balked at him. “So you waited this long to come and talk to me?” I was so mad at him for not having tried harder. “If you’d thought of me as a friend, you would have been here sooner.”

“But that was the problem.”

I was confused.

“I don’t think of you as a friend,” he explained.

I could feel my face heat up in anger. “Thank you, Noah, for driving all the way here to tell me that.” I turned and started to walk inside the house.

“I think of you as more than that,” he continued, stopping me in my tracks, my back still facing him. “I realized it the night you were at my house. I’ve wanted to be with you ever since then but I thought you’d be to mad to talk to me.”

I turned my head to the side, but didn’t turn around. “I drove by your house. A couple of days after I saw you last,” I said, coldly. “But Jess was there so I didn’t stay.”

“She’d come over to get some stuff she’d left.”

“Oh.”

“Cassie,” he said, coming closer. “I know I messed up, but I want a chance to make it up.”

I finally turned around, but didn’t know what to say. “I don’t know.”

“You know, you were right.”

I looked at him questioningly.

“About me waking one day and not seeing Jess’s face anymore. Now all I see is you,” he smiled.

I almost fell over. “Okay,” I said, pretending like it was no big deal. “But, Noah,” I started as he pulled me to him. “Just don’t wait so long next time to tell me I’m not your friend.”

WRITING: Eve's kidnapping

2:05 pm

It was raining. One of those hard steady rains that soaks you to the bone. The man stood patiently on the sidewalk among the other parents and guardians waiting to pick up their children. He wore jeans and a t-shirt with a waterproof hoodie and carried a medium sized black umbrella, for all the help it did. The wind was strong, spraying him sideways with drops of cold water. The mechanical ding of the afternoon bell could be heard over the loud speakers, announcing the end of the school day at Beachside Elementary. Classroom doors swung open and a mass of children raced into the hallways each headed toward some unknown destination. The man looked around, surfing through the crowd for an open opportunity. That one, he thought, spying a red-headed girl whose back was facing him. He started in that direction, when she suddenly turned and ran toward a woman calling her name. He swiftly turned around. Realizing he was now too close to the inside of the school, he backed off and changed his direction, toward the opposite side where the playground and sports complex sat. A few stragglers were running between the open gates, trying to dodge the rain as it fell, but none of them held his attention. Ignoring them, he made his way further into the back of the school, and that’s when he saw her. A lone girl. Maybe nine or ten, standing with her bike held up against a small concrete building, perhaps the bathroom for the open concession stand. She looked like she was trying to escape the weather by standing under what little rim the building offered, but it wasn’t doing much good. She was drenched and shaking, and didn’t seem to be going anywhere. She was perfection and he had to have her.

He joined her, offering up the umbrella as a conversation starter. “Here,” he said. “This may help some.”

She looked up at him, big green eyes red-rimmed and scared. “Aww, sweety. What’s wrong? Why are you out here all alone?”

She pointed to her bike. “The front wheel is flat. I don’t want to leave the bike here or my mom will get mad if someone steals it.”

“You hold this,” he handed her the umbrella. “And I’ll take a look at it.” He bent down, rain pounding on his back and took hold of the tire. When he stood back up, he nodded. “Yep. It looks like you have a piece of glass bottle stuck in it. It’s letting all the air out.”

Her face scrunched up and she started to cry again. “I can give you a ride if you need me to take you somewhere.”

She didn’t know how to respond. Her mother always told her never to talk to strangers, but it was wet and cold and he seemed really nice.

“I don’t know,” she said, unsure of what to do.

“It’s okay. I was just here waiting to pick up my brother, Josh, from little league.”

“Josh?” the girl, asked, recognition filling her face. “Joshua Loman?”

“Yeah,” the man said, going along with it. “But I wouldn’t want to go with a stranger, either. You’re a smart girl.” He turned around, as if he was going to leave when a flash of lightning hit the sky and seconds later thunder came booming down around them.

Her eyes widened and she called after him. “Wait!” She had made her decision. “I guess if your Josh’s brother, you can’t be all bad.”

He smiled. “Come on. Let’s get your bike into the truck and I’ll give you a lift. If you were riding your bike you can’t be very far from here?”

“Just a couple of blocks over,” she admitted. “I always go straight home after school so my mother doesn’t worry.” She was much more relaxed now, thinking he was the nice big brother of her friend from school, and they almost ran to escape the rain, her holding the umbrella as he swiftly pushed the bike by its handles.

    They scurried back out into the parking lot where there were still a few people roaming about, everyone seemingly too preoccupied with their own doings to notice a little blond girl voluntarily getting into a big black F-250. He hurtled the small bike into the bed and clicked the unlock button on the key remote. She pulled herself up into the seat and pulled the door closed. As it clicked shut, she turned to put on her seatbelt. Her mom always taught her safety first. Before she knew what was happening, the man forced a sweet smelling cloth over her nose and mouth. She jerked her head back and forth, but that only made him press down harder. A woozy sensation washed over her as her hearing started to fade out and within seconds she was unconscious.