Friday, September 30, 2011

Family Matters

The residue on the driveway could only mean one thing: humans.

Nature sighed and dialed her brother. “Luci, we have that … that parasite again,” she said. Her disgust towards the creatures that had infested her yard was undeniable.

“I’ll be over as soon as I can. The “Master of the Universe” is on my ass to rid his nebulas of Martians,” he replied sarcastically. “Dad can really have a God complex sometimes.”

Nature snickered. “See ya later bro and don’t forget to bring your pitchfork, I’ve been itching to try that lightning feature on the new model, it has been too quiet along the Atlantic coast.”

(From a story prompt to use residue, parasite and master in a story 250 words or less.)

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

A Miracle

The echoes of the woman’s screams reverberated through the bathroom. She held onto the sink with her left hand and lifted her skirt with the other as she squatted over a puddle of water. She was breathing funny as her body was wracked with a wave of contractions.

From my hole in the wall I could see a dark mass begin to show between her legs. The woman was gasping for air when the contractions stopped briefly. She let out another bellow when the next contraction hit.

She seemed to be oblivious to the building shaking or the walls crumbling around her as the buildings near them were destroyed by bombs. I could safely watch from my little space in the wall.

More of the baby’s head appeared between the woman’s legs as she screamed again then grunted as she bore down. “Get thee the fuck out of me!” the woman cursed, gripping the sink harder as more contractions hit. “Ye are gunna be thee death of me.”

There was a sudden splash as the baby landed in the woman’s bodily fluids on the cold tile floor. The baby started to cry and wave its arms around. Exhausted, the woman fell back on the floor and hit her head against the wall, knocking her unconscious.

The baby’s cries filled the small room as it shivered in the puddle. It was covered with blood and other goo. I leaned out of my hole to sniff the air then pulled back. It was quite unpleasant. The baby’s cries were overpowered by the sounds of a bomb hitting the building. The walls and ceiling crashed down on the woman, killing her as the light fixture punctured her heart.

Moments later, an older man appeared in the door. “Susan? Oh my god!” he sobbed. He quickly moved the debris from on top of her. He leaned over her, checking for a pulse. The baby, who’d been quiet, cried again. The man turned his head and stared at him for several seconds then quickly moved to pick the baby up.

He pulled his Swiss Army knife out of his pocket and cut the umbilical cord. Holding the baby in one arm, he cleared out the sink so he could clean him then dried him gently with paper towels. He looked for something to wrap the baby in.

The building shook as another bomb landed in the street and the man hunched over the baby to protect him. He looked down at the woman and he ripped off the skirt portion of her dress. It was dirty and torn but it would have to do.

I watched the man wrap the baby up then he paused to look at the woman. “Rest in peace love. I’ll take care of ye wee one,” he said then disappeared out the door.

With the show over, I ducked back into my hole and scurried along the walls to see if there was any food left behind in the office.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Another writing prompt: the first sentence of Twilight

My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. I don’t know why. Maybe she thought it would get rid of the foulness between us. I really didn’t care either. The wind blowing past my right ear blocked out most of her bitching, which was a bonus.

“Are you listening to me?” she demanded as she turned the wheel sharply to take the ramp for the airport entrance.

“As much as always,” I answered as I silently prayed she wouldn’t kill me with her horrific driving.

“You’re just like your father,” she hissed.

“No. I’m not. He lived with your toxic personality for 30 years and it ended up killing him. I’m not going to let that happen to me,” I replied.

“I am not responsible for your father’s pathetic suicide!”

“Of course not, you’re not responsible for anything,” I replied as she slammed on the brakes in front of the United terminal. I picked up my duffle bag and got out of the car. “I’d tell you to have a good life but I’d be lying and you taught me better than that. Good-bye mother.”

“You wiseass sonovabitch,” she ranted as she leaned across the seat to grab me. I stepped back then laughed as she forgot her foot was on the brake and she slammed into the stretch limo parked in front of her. I headed into the airport as the driver got out and started screaming at her in Russian.

“John, darling! Wait! Help me!” she called out as the automatic doors opened. When I didn’t stop I heard her switch gears and could hear her trying to explain it wasn’t her fault and blamed the accident on me.

I kept walking and didn’t turn back.

That was 15 years ago; I could remember it as if it had happened yesterday. I hadn’t seen or talked to her since. When her doctor called to tell me she had died alone in her home I smiled and felt the world get a little bit brighter.