This week, the prompt dealt with people who can’t see the forest for the trees. In other words, those who can’t see the bigger picture. I’ve dealt with a tension of minor leaguers who are looking for a chance in the majors. Personal advancement vs. the good of the team. I wish I could have used more words! 🙂
Dylan smiled. The scout was coming down to the locker room tonight. He’d been waiting for the call to the big time for a long while. “Too long,” he thought to himself. He was surprised that he had lasted until #5 in the draft. He’d been down here at Double A for almost a month. Oh, perhaps they might send him to Triple A, but he knew he was headed for the bigs! His game tonight proved it. Two homers, five RBIs. “If it wasn’t for me,” he thought, “we’da been shut out.”
He looked over at Hank and shook his head. Hank thought he had a chance to make the bigs and he gave up three runs in the first inning. They still had a chance to win the game, “thanks to me,” he thought, until Freddie over there gave up that three run homer in the seventh. As he thought about his game though, he couldn’t help but smile. He began his list of people who needed tickets for his first game at Camden Fields.
He turned his head and looked back at his locker. He didn’t want his joy about his upcoming promotion to cause the other guys more problems even though he knew they’d miss him when he was gone. He slowly peeled off his shirt. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw him. Tony Bush, the lead scout for the Baltimore Orioles, was headed to talk to the skipper. It wouldn’t be long now.
After a few minutes the skipper came out of his office. “Garcia!” he yelled. Dylan smiled. He’d been having a good season. He’d need some time in Triple A, but he was ready. They looked through the glass. When Garcia smiled and shook hands with Bush, Dylan knew that he’d gotten the call.
“Johnson!” the skipper called next. Dylan was puzzled. Johnson wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t spectacular. Dylan raised an eyebrow when he saw Johnson smile and shake Bush’s hand also. Was Johnson heading up to Triple A also? Wow! He couldn’t help but think of what place they had in mind for him! He was more puzzled when the skipper and Bush came out of the office.
“Guys!” the skipper said. “Johnson and Garcia are headed to Norfolk. We’ll miss them, but congrats guys. You earned it.” The skipper and Bush shook hands and Bush started to leave. Dylan ran up to him and said, “Mr. Bush, I’m Dylan Frazier.”
Bush stopped and looked at him. A smirk crept up his face and he snorted. “Yeah, I know who you are, Dylan.”
Dylan smiled, not noticing that the other players were taking interest. “Oh, I thought.…” he hesitated, not sure of how to proceed.
“You thought your good hitting would get you called up.” Bush narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, you hit good, No question. If you make it to the Orioles, you’ll succeed.” He stopped for a second and then kept Dylan from asking any other questions. “You drove in five runs for us and you let two runs score for them by not cutting off the throw. You hit good but you missed an obvious bunt sign. You’re not a team player, son. The Orioles don’t need prima donnas, they need teammates. Garcia and Johnson – they understand teamwork. You don’t yet. I hope you learn with your talent. Until you do….” Bush shook his head, and went out the door.
Voting will end in 3 hours! So, head on over to http://www.writeonwendy.com/cate…/wow-555-writing-challenge/ read all 5 stories and then vote for your favorite. I hope you’ll think it’s mine.
April sniffed and wiped her eyes. The tears weren’t falling as hard as the rain as she looked outside the window. She liked April showers, most of the time. “But why today?” she wondered as she stared at the big Mayflower van in front of the house. She had hoped to say good bye to her friends. Now, no one was outside.
She sighed and turned around. As much as she hated this time, she had discovered that going outside and saying good bye made it bearable. She didn’t have to watch the movers box and take everything out of the house. She could pretend, when they left, that her parents were just taking her on a vacation. Well, except for the boxes she would have to unpack. She hated unpacking the boxes.
She tried to find her mom without getting in the way of the movers. “Yikes!” she jumped back.
“Sorry missie,” the guy behind the dolly said. “I can’t always see you. You need to stay out of our way.”
“Yeah, I know the drill,” she said. Then she remembered her manners. “Sorry, sir.” She walked away looking more carefully for other movers. She didn’t need to make either parent mad right now. They never were too sympathetic about her feelings. For sure now they didn’t have time for her.
No one was on the stairs, so she ran up quickly. She got to the top just steps ahead of a mover with the mattress from her parents’ room. She could hear her mom directing the movers as they packed. She was a worrywart! April hugged the wall as another mover came out of the bedroom with parts of the dresser. She let him slide by and made her way into her parents’ bedroom.
April watched her mother quietly, waiting to be noticed. It took a while for her mother to notice her. Finally, her mother looked up. When she saw April, she smiled. “Honey, I know these moves are hard on you,” she said. April almost couldn’t believe that her mother had acknowledged her feelings. “I did want you to know that we’re headed back to Richmond. We’ve got a house just down the street from where we used to live.”
April’s jaw dropped as she stared at her mom. She loved that neighborhood. She’d be able to meet up with old friends and maybe meet the family with those bushes that had the beautiful purple flowers.
“Dad’s going to be the station commander. I think you’re going to like the house he picked out.” Mom pulled out a piece of paper. It was one of those real estate flyers on the house. “See, right there on the corner. Plenty of room for you to practice your gardening.”
April smiled for the first time that day. She knew she’d be on pretty good terms with the owners of the house with the purple flowers.
….the grass has riz
I wonder where the voters izzz!
Ok, having fun with that old rhyme. Did I give it new life? Well, spring over to Write on Wendy and the #WOW555 contest to register your vote!
I’m running late this week with the story, but I finally got it done. We had to include the phrase “It’s a new life” So, head on over to Wendy’s place and check out the stories. The voting will happen soon!
I stood up and glanced out the window. The rain kept falling at a steady pace. Great place, this. I can’t even go for a walk. I glanced over at the computer and sighed. Nothing there would interest me: not anymore, not for a while anyways. They wouldn’t let me write. No one to email even.
Then I slumped back into my chair. “It’s a new life,” they had told me. Sure. Those wise guys never had to live like this. The pain from the loss of my wife was bad enough, but then I had to re-live everything in court. They told me they’d take care of me if I testified. Sure, the mob hitman who hit my wife instead of the woman he was supposed to take out deserved to be punished. But now I sit around all day without my love of my life and he’s in prison with friends.
It was fun at first; people wondering where I had gone. My fans clamored for that third book but I disappeared. The contract on me was worth more than the contract I would get on the third book. It didn’t take too long, though, for people to lose interest. Other celebrities got married, or buried. Other celebrities had scandals and soon I was forgotten. Maybe in enough time I’d be the subject of one of those documentaries wondering where I went.
Writing was my life; now, they didn’t want to take a chance that my style would be recognized and they wouldn’t let me write. That last book was ready to be published – but only after I died. They didn’t want to take a chance on the mob finding out that I was still alive. Sure I had enough to live on because the government funneled my royalties to me – but no one to live with. She was gone.
A ray of sunlight broke through the window. I turned to look and the rain was breaking up. I decided to go for a walk. I threw on a jacket and headed into the cool day. Two weeks here and this was the first day I could get out. I walked around the neighborhood checking out hiding places and escape routes. It pays to be prepared. The air, even though it was cooler than home, felt good and I almost began to smile. I headed back to the house with a spring in my step. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad here.
“Rick! Rick Jacobs!” I heard the call and froze. That was my old name. My heart thundered as I began thinking about my escape. The stop was imperceptible to others, but I felt as if I had been motionless for hours. “Rick! It’s Elaine from High School! Everyone thinks you’ve dropped off the face of the earth.” I remembered Elaine from high school. I had to fight the urge to run after Elaine and take her home with me. I just kept walking. As soon as I got inside the house, I called my handler. Maybe there was hope. Maybe there was new life.
This week’s contest is now ready for you to vote. So, head on over to Wendy’s Place, read the 6 stories and choose your favorite one. They all have interesting twists, so check them out.
This week I’m doing something different. I’m basing my story on a story someone else told me. (Thanks Norma Olivarez.) The ending is not what I was told and it fits the requirement for this week, in my humble opinion, so I count it as an original story. Your challenge this week is to end your story with an unexpected twist. Because I’m telling someone else’s story, and I’m making it first person, the voice won’t sound like it’s me. I hope you enjoy it. Check out Wendy’s Place for all the stories
“Easter was always family fun time,” I said. “My favorite holiday. Christmas was socks and underwear, Easter was just fun.”
Funerals were never a happy occasion, but still, we got together with family that we never saw any other time. The nieces and nephews were hearing the family stories. It was part of the rite of passage.
“Tia Norma, what was your favorite story about Tia Margie?”
I chuckled a bit. “Well, I was seven years old and we were at Aunt Margie’s house one Easter hunting eggs.” In our family, cascarones were usually filled with paper. No muss, no fuss when you broke them over someone’s head. “Tio Juan looked at me and pointed at an egg. It was different from all the others. It was really pretty. Just as I saw it, I saw,” I looked around carefully hoping she wasn’t there, “your Tia Alyssa running after it too. I was a bit closer and ran faster. I got there first and before Alyssa could turn and run away, I smacked it on her head.”
I laughed a bit as I thought about the situation. “That’s when I found out that it wasn’t a cascarone. Someone told me later it was a wild turkey egg….and it was rotten! Tia Alyssa was so mad she was sputtering. I was shocked and then I was afraid. Tia Margie was going to kill me. The smell was awful! The egg had run down her hair, onto her clothes and all I could think was that I wanted to find a skunk and make the smell better.”
“What did you do then, Tia?” my nephew asked.
“I ran! I’m not stupid. I ran and hid under the porch. Tia Margie showed up soon, calling my name so sweetly. ‘Norma! Where are you Norma? I’ve got a present for you.’ I knew better. I stayed under the porch. She was so close I could see the toe in her orthopedic shoes tapping and the top of her rolled up knee highs beginning to sag.” We all laughed at the thought. That was pure Tia Margie.
“She never caught me and I was able to stay away from her for the rest of the weekend.”
I hadn’t heard her come up from behind, but my prima Alyssa came up behind me. “You telling the egg story I would guess?”
I turned around, feeling very guilty. I nodded my head.
“I got whipped so bad for that. Mom was so mad that you beat me to that egg. She meant for me to get you with it.”
“Really?” I asked. No one could imagine Tia Margie with that kind of sense of humor.
“Yep, and as her time drew near, she reminded me about that story.” Alyssa pulled her hand from behind her back. She had a wild turkey egg that I saw briefly just before she smashed it on my head. “Mom always wanted me to pay you back,” she said through the stink with a big grin.
“Revenge is a dish best served cold.”