Turning Point: Flash Fiction Results For Monday’s Muse Nov 30th 2015

Turning Point

Heat spread across my cheeks as Mama turned and gave me that look, the one that said, ‘Don’t make me turn this car around, mister.’ I choked on the angry retort that tickled my tongue and drew my clenched fist beneath my thighs in an attempt not to hit my sister, Harriet, across the back of her head.

Harriet snickered. 

She always seemed to find humor in making every waking day of my life miserable. Sure we had our laughs every now and again, but mostly it was war; war waged on me by the villainous troll that my parents had spent the last six years trying to convince me was actually my sister and not some rotten changeling that had crept in from the forest.

Changlings did that, came in and made people believe they were someone they were not. I read about it once in a comic, so it’s true alright. Harriet didn’t fool me. But Mama and Daddy, they were goners.

They would learn the truth one day. I would show them. But for now, it was obvious that they were too hypnotized by bouncy curls and rosy cheeks to see anything other than the enemy they tucked in at night.

So it was settled. I was going to make my escape and then show them all the truth later. My bags were already packed to go. I am going to become a changling.

Becoming a changling usually required that a kid be kidnapped and swapped out by the changling gang. I read that too somewhere.

Living in the forest wouldn’t be so bad. I loved climbing trees and creek fishing, and I could definitely do without having to stare at Mrs. Beezly another day. Life at nine was hard enough as it was let alone having to look at her all afternoon.

The only problem that I did have was not being rotten enough for them to change me out. I always managed to get the threatening look from Mama but I had never had the guts to cross…that line…never had the moxy…never…

WHACK! Cathunk!

“HENRY!” Mama screamed at me as the car yanked over to the side of the road spitting gravel, my guilty hand still raised in the air. Harriet was wailing like a stuck pig. She was going to have a nice knot where her forehead kissed that side window.

The shocked look in her eyes made my stomach burn as Mama actually whipped the car around and directed it toward home. Home and my future as a changling.

Far as I could see it, I’d earned my place today. I even managed to snicker. It was a real turning point.

THE END

These are my results for Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt May 23rd, 2018, originally posted on December 3rd, 2015.

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Advertisements

Jesse’s Imagination: Short Story Writing Prompt Results For Monday’s Muse September 7th

Hello all! Here are my results for this week's Monday's Muse writing prompt (This was originally from August 3rd 2015). To see the original prompt click HERE. To see other prompts, and give them a try yourself, click HERE.

1400784187jr1ix

Jesse’s Imagination

That’ll be 86 bucks, kid. And I don’t take checks. Cash only.” Mr. Lancaster wiped his greasy hands with an even greasier towel. The expression on his face told tale that he didn’t think Harlan was really serious in purchasing the old junker. Boy was he wrong.

Resisting the smirk that threatened to paint itself on her lips, a look Mr. Lancaster would only translate as sass, Harlan dipped her head down and hurriedly pulled out the cash that she had stuffed in her hand-sewn satchel. She pulled the musty pills from their place and handed the crumpled wad to Mr. Lancaster as it was.

Counting it in front of him would have also made him think she was being a sass. Mr. Lancaster still thought of her as a witless child. It was more conducive for Harlan or anyone else below the age of 20 to play along. “I think that should cover it Mr. Lancaster. I have been saving for a while.” She chanced a smile and shoved her hands into her jean pockets, her fingertips itching for her receipt. A key would be nice too, but Harlan didn’t hold out for one. She already had her Ford ready to tow the old can away as soon as the purchase was finalized.

Mr. Lancaster, with one eye narrowed, licked his greasy thumb and began to press out each bill. He sniffed and whipped his nose with his rag when he was done. “You gave me $5 extra.” His eye narrowed even more as he jammed a finger in Harlan’s face. She flinched back before the thick numb made contact.

“Now you listen and listen good gal. Ain’t no since in you working like a pack mule if you’se just gonna go and throw your money away. If you ain’t got sense enough to take care of your hard earned cash then you might as well not work. Ain’t they teaching you a thing in that school of yours?” He took hold of Harlan’s wrist and slapped the extra $5 against her palm.

Again his eye narrowed. “You take that and you put it away. Part of being good with your money is saving. You hear?”

“Yes sir!” She said, resisting the urge to bounce on her heels. That would only procure another unnecessary lecture from Mr. Lancaster. He gave her another wary look before speaking again, ever waiting on sass.

“You wait right there, gal and I’ll be right back with a receipt.”

Harlan watched him hobble away on old, bow legs, and disappear into the rusty trailer he had dubbed his office. She took the few moments alone to admire her purchase. Her heart swelling with excitement as she ran her fingers against the old metal surface and chipped paint.

It wouldn’t take much money to get it all spruced up, painted, the interior fixed just right. She already saw it in her mind, the way it would be. She would have to rig the doors on the right side for the safety arm to work, and it would work. Jesse would finally be able to drive just like he had always wanted even if it was in an old junker attached to a metal arm. She only wished she could get to drop a key into his hand. That would really seal the deal in both their imaginations.

“Got your receipt!” Mr. Lancaster hollered.

“Thank you, Mr. Lancaster. I’ll have it moved in a jiff.”

“Good. Oh before you get your parents to fetch it,” He wiggled his hand, the sound of an old key against a key ring was like music to Harlan’s ears. “Here’s your keys.”

Harlan took hold of the little piece of metal with such care that anyone watching would have thought she had taken hold of gold. And it was for her. It made her plan all the more perfect even if the drive was only going to be in Jesse’s imagination.

THE END