#WOW555

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April’s Flowers #WOW555

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.

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A Break in the Clouds – #WOW555

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.

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Cascarones – #WOW555

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.”

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And Now The Voting Really Begins! #WOW555

I just checked the votes at Wendy’s Place. 5 votes – each story has one vote. So, head on over and read all 5 stories, then vote for your favorite. It would be great to get a whole bunch of votes this week! The theme relates to Spring. There are an interesting variety of ways spring is used in these stories… so enjoy!

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Spring Walkers – #WOW555

ACH!!! Forgot to post this in the morning so I could enter this week’s #WOW555 contest over at Wendy’s place. The theme is spring. Everything grows in the spring, right? Here’s a bit of a different look at Spring growth….

The old man scratched his grizzled beard and then threw back the hood on his parka. He wouldn’t need that parka much longer. The snow was melting, and then…. He looked at the boat arriving at the dock. It came every week with supplies, just like clockwork. He laughed a bit as he watched the boat come to the dock. In years past, Wyvernfield, was a tourist paradise in the spring. Now, the visitors waited until the cleanup; rather the “all clear” he sounded after the cleanup.

He walked towards the dock being careful to stay on the path. The flowers of Wyvernfield were well known and he didn’t want to harm one of them. They used to laugh when they said that Wyvernfield was so fertile it could grow anything. Now they said it with an ominous air to their voices. As he got close to the dock, his ears perked up. He heard laughter. Old Jake had forgotten how to laugh ever since… well ever since that day. He didn’t like laughter and yet there it was on his boat.

Gerald finally spied the source of the laughter. Two young men and a woman talking and laughing on the deck. He shook his head. “What in tarnation is Jake thinking,” he said out loud mostly to himself. His boots thumped on the dock as he grabbed the rope Jake threw.

“Afternoon, Gerald,” the skipper said. Jake hadn’t smiled since that day either. “Got some visitors for ye.”

Gerald tied the boat to the dock and Jake put out the gang plank. “So I see,” Gerald said. “What brings you folks to Wyvernfield?” he asked.

“Huntin’” the blond headed boy said, suppressing a giggle. “We heard you got an interestin’ huntin’ season startin’ soon.”

Gerald closed his eyes and shook his head. He didn’t really want to say something he’d regret later. “Jake,” he finally said, “tourist season doesn’t start for another couple of weeks. What’s up?”

Jake shrugged and pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket. He looked at the visitors who were crossing the gangplank onto the dock and tapped his forehead. Then he shrugged again.

The girl came up to Gerald and held out her hand, “I’m Arliene Fennelly. Pleased to meet you. I hope you’ll lead us in the hunt. You’ve got quite a reputation.”

Gerald sniffed as he looked at the outstretched hand. He finally shook it. “Missy,” he said looking her in the eyes, “I don’t know what you heard, but I ain’t giving you any promises; not even that you’ll get out of this alive.”

“We understand,” Arliene said. “Henry and Egbert really wanted to come and try the challenge. They said it was the most dangerous game.”

“Tourists,” Gerald spat. “It’s all fun and games to shoot the walkers – until you run out of ammo or they come at you in a group from behind. You’d better pay me in advance – and know that next year, you may be one of the targets.” Gerald shook his head at the whole situation. Wyvernfield could grow anything in the spring; even zombies.

Voting begins soon!

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Hope – #WOW555

We all “know” that four leaf clovers are “lucky.” They are rare and finding one usually is a source of excitement. As we head towards St. Patrick’s Day, Wendy got us in the mood with this prompt: “For this week’s prompt, I want you to find a four-leaf clover, that extra leaf representing luck.” What if, really what if that luck was based on a power we didn’t know? What if there really was a basis for our superstition regarding four leaf clovers? Here’s my #WOW555 entry this week.

Hope

I think most of us welcomed them when they came. We didn’t expect anyone to fly hundreds of light years just to find some slaves. Were we wrong! They not only wanted slaves, they wanted the planet. It was total world domination in days. I was one of the lucky ones. I survived. Now this big alien led me around by the nose getting me to do his dirty work for him. These guys had far superior technology, but they were soft. Every thirty minutes, he took a ten minute rest break. I didn’t mind that since I was doing his hard work, but I realized that if we ever got out of this enslavement, I’d never complain about a government worker’s work ethic again.

“Hum-AN” He screeched through his universal translator. “Stop digging. I rest now.”

Lucky me. I got a break. I decided to wander around the area. It had been a field I played in before the photon bombs had ripped it up. I wanted to see what was left of it. Ali, did I tell you I called my master “Ali” instead of “big ugly Alien,” didn’t mind me wandering. All he had to do was snap his fingers and the nose device would call me back to him. The first time he did that, the pain lasted until the next break. I wouldn’t wander off and not come back.

There wasn’t much to see. Lots of bomb craters. Some green patches where bombs had missed. I was too old to play any kind of games now, but decided to play one anyway just to have some fun. My secret mission was to walk only on the green parts of the field and avoid the bombed out parts. Maybe I was trying to pretend that I would have been lucky enough to live through that bombardment. I jumped from strands of Johnson grass into a small area of clover and almost fell into a bomb crater. As I looked at the possible end of the game, I saw it.

There in the middle of the bomb crater were a couple of lucky four leaf clovers that had survived the bombs. Or maybe they had grown up after, who knows. All I knew was that I hadn’t seen one in years and I wanted one! I finished my game and jumped into the crater to pick up the lucky clover. I turned and ran back quickly before Ali decided to get nosy.

I rushed back and suddenly realized I was holding the clover where Ali could see it. I stopped and put it behind my back. Too late.

“Hum-AN! Whats do you gots?”

I had tried to lie once before. Never again. I showed him the clover. “This is a sign of good luck for my people.”

“Gives it to me, Hum-AN.”

I put it in his outstretched hand with a bit of a tear in my eye. His reaction was amazing.

“Its burn! Its burn!” He screeched out. Then, he toppled over.

I looked carefully and picked up the clover. It really had been lucky. It seemed to have a special glow to it. If other Alis responded to four leaf clovers like this, we had hope.

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