WRITERLY WEDNESDAY PICTURE PROMPT FICTION - GAME OVER

Good morning everyone. Wednesday again. The summer is just flying by. Soon it will be September 1st and my third book of The Georgia Series will be released. More on that next post. Meanwhile, hope you enjoy my story for today. It is really a true story not fiction, based on my memories of raising my son.

GAME OVER

I arrived to pick up my twelve-year-old from his first job; babysitting a boy after school until his mother arrived from work.

A difficult kid but my son handled him well. Whenever his mother showed, his charge acted out.

Cleaning up the playroom, my son stooped to pick up darts on the floor. In a tantrum, the boy threw a dart as he stood. It  wedged in my son’s back beside the spine. My son hit the floor, turning white. “Mom, I can’t feel anything in my back.”

The kid’s mother smiled at her son, telling him he shouldn’t do that. Furious, I took mine to emergency. The dart penetrated a muscle, causing a spasm that left him numb. Otherwise, all good.

Driving home, my son said: “I’m sorry, Mom but I’m quitting my job.”

I smiled. “Good call.”

I wonder whatever happened to that Social Worker’s kid?

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WRITERLY WEDNESDAY FICTION PICTURE PROMPT - THE FAMILY

THE FAMILY

I stared at the pictures, the younger twins, my brother and me (the older twins), and our mother. The pictures told our story in a way none of us wanted to.

It was all in the eyes. Look close and you’ll see ... the haunting, blank stares that hid our secrets and our pain.

But today was special. Today, our lives would start again.

“You ready?”

I turned towards my brother. He stood with his hands on the shoulders of the younger ones who were now ten years old.

Eight years is what our mother served for killing our abusive, alcoholic father. She’d paid the ultimate price to protect us from his rage. They released her for good behavior. My brother and I had raised our younger siblings, struggling through school and working two jobs, living for this day.

I smiled at him. “Let’s go bring Mom home.”

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The Raven

The raven flew above the humans, entertaining them with somersaults, diving downward, only to fly up to the sky and sour in the wind. She stealthily watched the human below open a bag and scatter morsels; recognizing the man as a regular. Ravens never forget a face, regardless of the fact that humans can't tell one raven from another.

Oh come on, moron! Don't you know we aren't vegetarians? We eat worms, nice, insects, We love crickets. Frogs and lizard are good. And how about a little fruit once in a while, huh?

The man's offerings sucked, but beggars can't be choosers. The raven landed and picked up a hard chunk. She flew to a puddle and dropped it in the water. The humans shook their heads and laughed like she was a dummy.

What? Just softening it up here. Stale bread and crackers? Tasteless ... yuk!

***

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Writerly Wdnesday Picture Prompt - Writer's Dream

Writer's Dream

I stood in the dirt track staring at what was to be my home for the summer. My heart sunk. It was nothing like the advertisement.

“Something is wrong?”

I glared at the agent who’d brought me from the airport and pointed at the structure.

“Look at it. The door and windows are boarded up and painted, the wall is crumbling, the grass hasn’t been cut. This isn’t what I paid for.”

“Please, follow.” He disappeared around a corner.

I stomped after him, stepping surprisingly into a new world of groomed floral gardens, repainted pink stucco and brightly painted trim. Standing on the veranda, I looked down into a beautiful valley of vineyards, surrounded with green rolling hills.

“Back of house still in renos. This and inside complete. Is okay?”

I smiled. “Is okay.”

My dream to spend the summer writing at an Italian villa was a reality.

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