I hear footsteps outside my door, must be my maid. Finally, a much-deserved girls’ night out to celebrate me.
I zip up my dress and check my make-up and hair in the mirror. Hangers dangle as I put my tried-on clothes back in the closet. The house really needs a vacuum and a good dusting. I sigh and switch off my bedroom lights as I step in the hallway. I pour myself a glass of red wine and sip while I wait, on a chair near my door. All that is left is to wear my shoes and go enjoy.
I hear footsteps outside my door, must be my maid. Finally, a much-deserved girls’ night out to celebrate me. Nothing is cruel as the frank cries of children. I am old, yes. My balding head and my wrinkled face should evoke nothing but respect as they're signs of maturity but apparently for kids nowadays they're reasons to mock. They even called my house haunted. It is worn down, yes. But, I don't hear my real estate agent coming over to complain in the same way. Yet here, this freckled kid in front of me stands petrified and stumbles as he tried to inch backwards. I reach for his hand.
Shoot, I keep on forgetting that I'm dead. “Exterior is more important. It has to lure one inside,” Samuel said.
“Not necessarily,” I replied. “What if the inside’s nicer?” “Ah, but you need to like the outside first.” We examined the jewellery box. Blushing pink roses sprung at us from a lacquered black background. Samuel opened the lid. “Your mother would like the partitions,” I said. “Not sure about the chintzy exterior.” Shoppers pushed, tugged and overwhelmed with chatter. Someone elbowed my side. “Have you finally decided?” snapped the salesclerk. “Others are waiting.” Samuel’s eyes met mine. We walked away empty-handed, contemplating the next birthday gift idea. I turned Dominick’s head to the ceiling while twisting his arms akimbo. Dominick was able to keep this position until our Science teacher, Mr. Snyder, noticed what we were doing.
Mr. Snyder angrily ordered me to stop using Dominick as if he were a human Gumby. “I can’t help it,” I cried. “It’s funny!” He stomped to our seats and turned Dominick’s head straight and lowered his arms while I was bent over in hysterics, eyes tearing from uncontrollable laughter. Mr. Snyder then sent me into the hallway to calm down. Once alone in the empty hallway, I stopped laughing. James Buchanan hated driving, not driving as much as sitting so when he had to drive on business he always tried to make it within forty-two miles, the distance to the first rest stop.
Today’s trip was forty-eight miles, including driving off a cliff. Perfect – he wouldn’t have to sit. He silences his alarm clock, suppresses a yawn, stumbles out of bed and gets dressed. He checks the time, notices he is running late, seizes hold of his briefcase, and dashes out the door. At the subway station, he deposits his ticket and waits on the platform. The train pulls in, the doors automatically open, and he advances with the crowd. He exits the next station, walks for several minutes, and then he enters a building.
His old boss greets him with a surprised look on his face. “What are you doing back here?” Suddenly, Andrew remembers. He retired yesterday. Absent cries echoed louder than the relentless whine of the heartrate machine attached to his once overjoyed wife. The lifeless baby they had made together laying on her unmoving chest. This was what emptiness felt like, to have expected to leave here with a glowing wife and a perfect little girl in their loving arms, now he stood over their bodies with a million things he wished he could say as tears escaped his distraught eyes. He gripped his wife’s hand one last time, placed a loving kiss on both of their heads and said his heartbreaking goodbyes.
Most moms can give a hard, stony stare. But none can beat my mom because she’s Medusa. Yeah, the one from Greek legend. I’ve gotten used to her and the curse I guess – I mean, most of my friends are now statues in our yard or home. My room alone is a museum of stone effigies (except they aren’t effigies but once-real people!).
Anyway, I bought my mother some lead-lined sunglasses with tiny attached periscopes that I hope she’ll wear so when my new girlfriend comes over, she and I can hang out in safety. Mary’s children managed this year’s Open Garden at her home.
She sat under the fig tree, planted by her great-grandfather 130 years before. An uninterrupted voyeur’s view of the visitors that day. One young man piqued her curiosity as he wandered about. Camera around his neck, every so often his focus would be held by some imaginary force. He’d click once and move on. Mary received 6 black and white photos, but no return address. “I thought I knew my garden.” she mused. “How is it I’ve never seen these things?” She sat weeping at the powerful images. He was known by many names, The Shadow Lord, The Dark One, Stone Gazer, but what was a name?
He hated his captors for putting him in this magical prison with a one-way door, but he knew the time would come when someone would make a mistake and leave the door unlocked, then he would exact his revenge. Everyday he put his hand on the doorway and everyday he was thrown back, but not today. His smile widened revealing razor sharp teeth in blackened gums. ‘Well well well.’ laughed the Shadow Lord. ‘Sweet retribution. One only has to be patient.’ “Hey – picnic time!” Randy smiled.
“Sweet, but we’d better go individually,” Betty suggested. “You first.” Randy smiled. He sauntered over to the blanket and baskets, but the visitors slapped at him. He hastily retreated. “That was close,” he muttered. “Your turn.” “I got this,” Betty thought, nodding. She sailed over to the gathering, but again, the visitors nearly crushed her. She skedaddled back. “Whoa!” Betty gasped. “They almost got you!” “Yeah,” Randy panted. “Thought my six ant legs would help me move, but no dice.” “And I knew my fly wings would help me,” Betty sighed. “Insect life is tough.” She stood with her back to the door and eyes locked on the vertical bars covering the cracked window pane. Locked away and unable to escape her overshadowing fate. The cold draft of the winters wind encased the small cell. Loud footsteps echoed down the long passageways, as prisoners were picked from their cells randomly. Hanging day upon them. Her cell door swung open as she held the shard of glass in her throat.
‘Best of luck explaining this to the King.’ She choked on scarlet blood. She dropped to the ground, never taking another breath. He locked himself in his room and sat brooding for several days. He ate and drank very little; slept even less. Desperation had quickly turned to depression, then total hopelessness.
A cell phone lay silent beside the chair. He had long since ceased willing it to ring. His watch told him it was 2:37 in the afternoon. His self-appointed time was nearly up. She had left him again. One rejection too many. The alarm told him it was time. One last thought as his finger tightened on the trigger: "Will she even miss me?" Of course, he would never know. Ben and Benny are a father and son who do not spend much time together. Ben was disappointed that Benny did not like to communicate. One bright summer day they went to a local ball game since Benny enjoyed watching baseball. A foul ball was hit in their direction and though Ben thought he could easily catch the ball, he left it for Benny so they could have something to talk about. Benny caught the ball but didn’t say anything.
Ben was surprised the following day when Benny, holding the baseball, said “good morning” to him. “Hi, Dad,” Ben replied. ‘Wine, a ready meal for two, and cheesecake.’ She scans the items and winks at him. ‘Eating in tonight? You’re so lucky to have someone to share this with.’
He gives her a shy smile because she is the reason he shops here. How does he tell her that this is his lonely supper for the next two nights? She might laugh and call him sad, but if he doesn’t speak now, he may never have another chance. ‘No boyfriend to treat you?’ ‘Not until Wednesday, when my husband comes home on leave. Cash or card?’ Jim sat astride his Harley-Davidson as he motored down Ventura Highway. The smell of salt air and the cool wind flowing through his long locks of auburn hair made him think he was experiencing paradise on earth. “Life doesn’t get any better,” he thought.
He would occasionally steal a glance at the Pacific Ocean to see dolphins frolicking about. He was about to pinch himself when he felt a hand grab his shoulder from behind, shaking it violently, and heard a voice saying, “Jim! Jim! Come on man, you gotta wake up. The boss is coming!” The noise was so loud. The smell is awful. Even worse is the wet, squishy feeling in the back of her underwear.
Worst of all, the whole class is laughing at her. Mr. Bradley is yelling for everyone to settle down, but he's also laughing. I should laugh too, she thinks briefly. But no, she's mortified and can't even move and her face is burning. Not me! her mind keeps protesting. This isn't happening to me! I'm a pretty and popular girl, a cheerleader! That ugly girl two desks up seems to be laughing louder than anyone. Her life's over. I received my driver’s license renewal in the mail. Another money grab.
The government worker scans existing information in the system, checking against the mailed form and asks, “are there any changes to your personal information?” I answer “no” and await the next questions, “any changes to your address?” (I add 'gender/eating restrictions/urinary function'.) The license arrived. To Frederick. The agent added an “e”. Back to DMV, to see the same representative. “Good thing you came in. Name is misspelled. That is illegal”. I retort, “You made me illegal by adding an “e”. Futile dispute. Keyboarders don’t get locked up. I know what I have to do now to save the world from the rude and reckless monkeys that have been developed by the government. Who knew that it would be me, an ordinary plumber, to be the one to do this. I thought eating my step-sister yesterday would do the trick to stop the government's scheme.
Today, this time when I infiltrate the government, I know what I need to do to end it all. I slide into the building with my heavy equipment. Once I dodge many obstacles to get where I need to be, I sacrifice myself. There’s a picture of the Chairman in the boardroom. It’s the one I was asked to hang, along with fixing the pipes and mending broken windows. I’ve even resolved issues with the company computers when the staff were left scratching their heads or shouting at the screen. That picture had been hanging there for longer than I cared to recall, and I’d seen that face for far too long so decided it was time to move on.
At my leaving party, he popped a Prosecco cork and asked people to ‘Raise your glass’. It was too late, I’d already left. At last, the machine was ready. Why Frank had decided to turn the vault of the bank into a time machine was a mystery, but that was his decision. He was proud of his memory, he felt he deserved a better job. His only ambition was, to study history, but the books weren’t enough, he needed to observe the event, therefore, his time machine. He closed the door and turned on the machine. Frank peeked through the upper grids and saw ancient Rome. He tried to open the door, but he remembered, that the vault only opens on the outside.
Topical. The villain entered stage left to jeers from the audience. He turned, scowled and puffed himself out self-importantly. The audience simply booed louder.
Across the stage, the female lead looked terrified. As the villain approached, leering at her, she recoiled at his presence. The audience jeered even more. "Look," said the villain, "they love me here." The woman desperately searched for assistance. Suddenly, a clown appeared. "Um-ah-um-um-um-um-ah-um-um," said the clown. The villain leered again. "Good, I like the clown." The woman looked in horror. The crowd booed even louder. Where was the hero?
The Church of Scotland cemetery was overgrown and silent. I matched names on head-stones with copies of birth and death certificates sent by my brother.
Centuries before my great-grandfather's time,clans had been in violent conflict with each other.The MacGregors' ancestral homeland had been usurped, and some became outlaws. They stole livestock and slaughtered rivals. Mary,Queen of Scots, sanctioned retribution by other clan chiefs, so MacGregors adopted untraceable surnames, including colours like Brown or Black. From my home in London's busy commuter belt Aberdeenshire seems very distant. 'I tracked them down', I told Andy. 'I've touched base.' I Think We're Alone Now played in Tim’s head as he woke.
“That’s it,” he mumbled to himself. “I’m going to be like Tommy James and become a rock star. I’m going to have girls fall all over me. They’ll toss their undergarments onto the stage and faint just seeing me sing.” “I think we’re alone now,” he sang softly. “There doesn’t seem to be anybody else around…” Just then, his wife got out of the shower, “Tim, what are you still doing in bed!?” Almost immediately, the earworm stopped, and he slipped back into that 9 to 5 reality. |
"Classic"
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