One, sadly, is based on something that happened on Friday. The prompt this week for the Flash Fiction group on Scribblers was 'castaway'.
The second is my entry for the Weekend Write-in on WriteOn.
I hope you enjoy these.
* * * *
Life's Castaway
“Excuse me, sir.” The young woman leaned down, keeping her
voice low so the other patrons wouldn’t overhear, even though some of them had
been the ones to complain. “I have to ask you to leave.”
Tim looked up at the girl, taking note of the gray-green eyes,
brown hair under the uniform cap. Defeated, again, he sighed, nodded, and
gathered his battered belongings together. “Sure.”
After sliding off the bench, he set the precious dime down
next to the empty coffee cup. It wasn’t much but it was more than he could
afford, yet Pride insisted he leave something.
She stepped back, away from him. He was used to it. Everyone
did it. That’s what people do with society’s castaways.
Outside, the sun was just rising over the hills. Shadows
were still long and the air hinted at the warmth the day would bring. Feeling
the tiny heat seeping through the worn out clothes, he considered his options.
Thirty yards away, the overpass rose up and arched across
the six lanes of freeway, but he could see the shelter through the trees across
the way. He looked at it, considering. Thirty
yards, a climb and twenty yards back to the shelter door is a long walk, and
I’m tired. I’ll cut across. Hell, I’ve done it a million times.
He shifted the stained and filthy backpack, clutched the
plastic bag with his dumpster findings more tightly, and shuffled over to the
metal guardrail that separated the restaurant parking lot from the on-ramp and
freeway.
Pausing, he waited for the metering light to stop traffic,
then skirted between the two lanes of cars. People behind the glass gaped at
him, and he saw one punch a button on the steering wheel. But he turned away.
He’d be across the road before the cops got there.
A semi blew past, whipping freeway grit, exhaust and papers
against him. After a squint he looked.
There was a gap… He stepped forward, hurrying. One lane behind him and then…
Candy and her friend Brian, commute buddies, were on their
way to work. Laughing and talking and… She landed both feet, with all of her
might, on the brake pedal but it was too late.
The look of surprise on the man’s face stayed with her long
after the car came to a halt. Behind her, the Mercedes slammed into the trunk
of her car, bolting her forward and skewing her into the far left lane while
other cars swerved, honked and crashed together.
After what felt like a century Candy breathed. “Oh my God!”
“FUCK!” Brian was craning his torso to look backward. Legs
encased in dirty cargo pants was all he could see of the man. They were
terribly still. He turned back.
Candy was white, her eyes staring through the windshield,
her hands, clutched to her face, were visibly shaking. A high-pitched whine
filled the interior of the car while the radio announcer cheerfully prattled on
about the new Prius.
“Hey!” Brian twisted toward her, grabbed her wrists. “Hey,
he walked in front of you. You couldn’t help it.”
That didn’t help either. Her entire body shook, the moan
rising higher. Faint sirens grew and he moved.
“Candy. Come on, Candy.” He released the seat belt, opened
the door and realized he was shaking just as hard as his friend. A stagger
landed him against the crumpled fender and it was all he could do to hold
himself upright while he fought not to throw up.
Behind and around him other people were getting out of their
cars, milling around, looking at the dead man, talking and staring at him.
Several started in his direction but looked away, into the car.
Candy hadn’t moved, still sitting, staring, her hands held
to her face.
Forcing himself, he moved forward, around the front of the
car. He reached her door just before a Highway Patrolman.
“Are you okay, sir? Is this the car that hit him?”
“Yeah,” a gulp, a breath, “Yeah, he walked right in front of
us. Candy,” he opened the door, a little relieved when she looked over at him
although the look in her eyes was disturbing, “never had a chance to stop.”
The cop bent down, nudging Brian out of the way. “Are you
okay, miss? Do you need an ambulance?”
Her head jerked, the stare becoming less intense. “No.” She
turned away, trying to see out the back window.
“Never mind him right now, he’s being taken care of.” He
released the belt, looking for obvious injury, noting the deflated airbag
pooled in her lap.
“He walked in front of me. I wasn’t speeding, I know I
wasn’t because I had just looked and” her head collapsed into her hands and
shock turned to sobs. “I killed him.”
“Can you get out?”
Many people were inconvenienced that morning. Two left the
scene with burning memories that would last all of their lives. One, a
castaway, arrived on a different shore.
* * * *
Bambi in the Cabinet
2005
"There you go." The keys passed from the
realtor's hand into Kate's fingers.
A thrill fled through her, escaping in a smile.
"Thank you."
"Congratulations." Linda smiled at her client,
"I think the last tenant got everything, but in case they didn't, just put
it all into the garage and let me know, okay?"
Kate nodded, "Thanks for everything, Linda. I'd
invite you in..." She gestured to the shadowed foyer, piled with boxes.
"How about a rain check?"
"Sure - I'll give you a call in a few days, after I
see if anything was left."
Minutes later, with the screen door closed, the front
door propped open, Kate looked around the bare rooms. The furniture wouldn't
arrive for a few days, so she would stay in the apartment, but some things
could be put away, now.
~ ~ ~ ~
1998
"Mom!" Brendan's eyes glowed with the triumph
of his find. His fingers caressed the curves in awe. "Look at this."
Sara stopped watching her feet, turned and looked. The
riverbed was a treacherous place to walk, but Saturday hikes with her son were
too precious to skip, and this was where he had wanted to go - up the canyon to
the ridge where his dad had last been seen six years before.
“Wow.” She turned back, focusing on the smooth object,
seamed and holed. “It’s a deer skull.”
“Isn’t it cool?” Her late husband’s eyes in their son’s
face pierced her.
Ignoring the familiar pang, she smiled, “Yeah, way cool.”
Giving into his excitement, she said, “We’ll take it home and clean it up. You
can take it to school Monday.”
“Coool.”
~ ~ ~ ~
2004
“I’ve got everything, Mom.” Brendan was exasperated. He
was eighteen after all, and heading for college.
“What about Bambi?”
“Why would I take that? It’ll get busted, but it’ll be
safe here, right?”
“Yes,” resigned, she sighed. “I’ll put it in your treasure
box, okay?”
“Okay, thanks.” A hand on her shoulder, a kiss on her
cheek and he was gone.
She watched his departing back through the screen door,
her full heart breaking, again.
~ ~ ~ ~
2005
Kate started in the kitchen, washing the drawers and
cabinets before measuring them. Left open to dry, she started trimming the
liners. She was just about finished. The sun, lowering through the trees, shot
rays into a corner that seemed blank. Something caught her eye. Curious, she put the scissors down and crossed to the
corner. Her hands found the faint line, then the hidden button. She pressed,
heard a muffled snick and saw the panel shift. The crack widened and a
crease appeared.
Linda said this house was old and the original owner a
bit… weird. Pushing the crease she pulled at the
crack. The folding door moved.
Katie shrieked and leapt back, her heart pounding. There,
on one of the shelves crusted with dust and age, the blank eyes of a long-dead
deer stared at her.
* * * *
Have a lovely day!
Best~
Philippa
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories
No comments:
Post a Comment