With everything happening in the world, these #50wordfiction stories have seemed frivolous. I appreciate the #writetober2023 prompts, but this year I had a difficult time staying focused. It was easier for me to write the two version of the same word at one time, rather than on separate days. Sometimes I had to use the dictionary to know different definitions. Thanks to those of you who read.
FOG
The fog hangs heavy over the valley. I curl up in my favorite chair with a cup of tea, a new mystery, and a blanket. Today is a good day to relax. Honestly, I need the respite. My mother is dead. Two months later, and I still can’t believe it.
Brain fog is real. I keep telling my husband this, but he keeps making my loss for words a joke. I am not using it as an excuse; it is really frustrating that my brain doesn’t work like it used to. I feel slow and stupid, and no longer smart.
GRAVE
I know it creeps some people out, but I find walking in the cemetery peaceful. Before I am halfway down the first path, an intense sharp pain stabs my side. I kneel down, breathing through the pain. Then I notice the grave in front of me bears my own name.
“You have made a grave mistake,” Mr. Jeff spits, turning on his heel and stomping away. The townspeople look at one another, hoping his words are not a threat. Doc Martin steps forward. “Tick will follow and make sure he gets gone and doesn’t return. You can all sleep tonight.”
BOW
Mother helps me into my fancy dress. I love the lace trim, but my favorite part is the blue bow. “Don’t get into anything before we leave,” she warns. All I want to do is twirl, and admire myself in the mirror. I am excited to be a flower girl!
Jerry hits the final high note of his performance. He sees the crowd leap to their feet, clapping and cheering. After taking a few bows, Jerry exits the stage. His manager ushers him to his dressing room, where his nurse has his IV waiting for him. One more show completed.
CURIOUS
“You are re curious like a cat,” Mammaw said to Joey. “I can’t predict what you’re going to do next.” Shaking her head, she closed Joey’s bedroom door. He hated disappointing her, but he never knew what was going to get him into trouble, and what would be a great discovery.
Looking out the window, I see two strange cars in the Nelson’s driveway. They almost never have company, and both must have arrived overnight. I will keep monitoring the curious situation; I don’t know if I should walk over and check on them, or if that would be too nosy.
TIME
Celia taps her toe to keep time. Playing in a band is her dream, but she had underestimated how challenging it would be. She does not want to miss her cue, and she especially doesn’t want Brian to yell at her. Focusing on counting, she doesn’t notice Brian watching her.
“What time is the party?” Dad asks, “because I don’t get off work until 5, and I also have to pick up Olivia.” “Oh it doesn’t start until 7, so there’s plenty of time,” I reassure him. I know he doesn’t want me to go to my first boy/girl party.
SKULL
Dave set out the skull by the candy bowl. Most people used fake skulls, and his trick or treaters probably thought this one was too. Little did they know about his collection in the barn. Would he choose a new one tonight? No, too risky; others could know their plans.
“Get it through your thick skull! I am not going to the dance with you. I am never going on a date with you. I don’t even like boys!” Sara screams at Jay. She is tired of him following her around. Being nice has not worked, so maybe meanness will.
NIGHTMARES
“Mama? Can I sleep with you?” my preschool son Tyler asks.
“what’s wrong, sweet boy? Did you have a bad dream?” Tyler nods, as I scoop him up. His nightmares seem to overwhelm him every time he sleeps. Holding him close, I feel his heart thumping out of his chest.
“Navigating rush hour is a nightmare. This is why I never go anywhere,” Susie complains to her husband. “We’ll make it in plenty of time, he reassures her.” Susie doesn’t want to make it at all. She hates dinner parties, especially fancy ones where she has to wear a gown.
ONCE
“I would like for you to think about my feelings for once!” Deirdre slams her bedroom door. What had happened to our sweet girl? She was not even a teenager yet, but we can do nothing right in her eyes. Toddler tantrums were easy in comparison to tween angsty emotions.
“Don’t you think you’ll remember once you are there?” my sister asks. “Like muscle memory, I think it will just come back to you.” I am not so sure. I have not been back to the town where we lived as children in over fifty years. How much had changed?
Redheadedrev 