I had so much fun participating in a writing exercise last week I thought I'd do it again today. I wrote one story and it was dark, as was the one I wrote last week. So I wrote another one that wasn't dark (I don't want to get labeled...).
The rules of the exercise remain the same, 500 word maximum, the above picture must play a part in the story, five words must be included in the story, there's a week to complete the exercise and then the story must be linked to Nicole Pyles's blog (
HERE). This week's five word to include are:
Manners
Pin
Chameleon
Thermometer
Birthday
So if you've arrived at this site from Nicole's "World Of My Imagination" blog, don't forget to read both stories. That is, of course, if you really want to...
Story 1
A Morning Conversation
A gentle knock signaled to Felicia Maxwell that Meg, her favorite nurse, was waiting just outside her door. “Felicia, honey. It’s time for your meds.”
“Come in, dearie,” Felicia said excited to see her friend who entered the room smiling. Felicia was Meg's favorite resident at Oak Manners Nursing Home and even though she told every resident the same thing, with Felicia it was true.
“Good morning, Felicia. You’re looking wonderful this morning!” Meg said to the elderly woman sitting proudly on the edge of the bed.
“You’re so sweet,” Felicia said, a blush forming under her wrinkles. “Your husband’s a lucky man.”
“Now, honey,” Meg said placing one hand on her hip. “I argue with a lot of people here, but I’ll never argue with you about that.” Both women laughed.
Meg bent to place the small tray she held on the nightstand next to Felicia’s bed and stopped. “I’m sorry,” Meg said. “Can I move this stuff for you?”
Felicia reached for the notebook, pen, and rosary that she absentmindedly left on the nightstand. Normally she cleaned off the space for the nurses before she went to sleep.
“I apologize for that. I’m usually better at keeping things tidy.”
“Are you kidding me?” Meg laughed. “This place? Why, only a chameleon could hide in here—it’s spotless!” Meg set the tray on the nightstand and began to prepare the morning meds for her friend.
“What have you got here?” Meg asked.
“Oh, it’s just a note I’m writing to my granddaughter. It’s her birthday next week.”
“Jenny, or Becky?”
“Becky. She’s turning 16,” Felicia said smiling. “And she’s in love.”
“That’s sweet,” Meg said as she filled the Dixie cup with water from the small sink in Felicia’s room.
“I suppose, except she wants to get married.”
“Oh, no…she’s way too young.”
“That’s what I’m writing to tell her. In my day we didn’t move in together like Becky wants to do. It was simpler then. If your beau gave you his letterman pin, well, that meant you were a couple and then the courtship would start. I think she should wait don’t you?”
“Definitely,” Meg said, even though she eloped when she was seventeen. Thank Heavens it worked out for her and her husband, she thought as she handed Felicia a combination of drugs and the small cup of water.
“Now, even though I’d love to stay and talk to you all morning, I’ve got more people to visit.”
“Meg, sweetie, could you be a dear and check the thermometer.
It feels a little cool this morning.”
“Of course, Felicia.” Meg gathered the cup and tray from the nightstand. “You’re right, it is a little cold in here. You should be fine now," Meg said as she adjusted the dial on the wall. She then turned and said goodbye. The nurse closed the door behind her leaving Felicia alone in her room.
485 Words
Story 2 (the dark one...)
Late For Work
-->
Detective Lisa
O’Rourke entered the musty room; the smells of humanity hit her tired brain.
These places always smell the same, she thought. Her partner, Joe Barnes, was
already there with a couple of Jakes who were just finishing up securing the
crime scene.
“Glad you could make it, O’Rourke,” Barnes said, small
flecks of the doughnut he was eating flew from his mouth. “What? It your
birthday today?” O’Rourke ignored the piggish man—no wonder he had three
ex-wives and was working overtime to create the fourth.
“Zip it,” O’Rourke said to Barnes. She had spent another
nightmarish night dealing with her teenage daughter and was in no mood for
Barnes’s crap. No minding her manners this morning. “What we got?”
“The usual,” Barnes said as he crammed the last bit of his doughnut
into his face. “Crack mom O.D.’d in the bathroom, an entire chem. lab in the
kitchen, no one else around.” The single mother of two glanced into the
bathroom of the tiny apartment and saw the corpse lying facedown on the
bathroom floor. She’d deal with that horror soon enough.
“Don’t touch that window,” O’Rourke said to Barnes as he
walked over to the room’s only window to close it and stop the freezing air
from rushing in. “Not until the photographer gets here. I don’t care what the
thermometer says.”
“We got this,” Barnes said leaving the window and walking to
the room’s only furniture, a small card table and two folding metal chairs.
“Looks like mommy did a little writing.”
O’Rourke peered at lonely table where a notebook rested open
on the cracked surface. A pin of jewelry and a silver pen lay atop what
appeared to be someone’s personal note. “It’s worth the wait,” O’Rourke said to
the frigid air, her breath visible.
“Yeah,” Barnes chuckled. “I wonder what she meant by that?”
“This probably wasn’t her writing,” O’Rourke said
confidently. “Most crack heads can’t write this well—can’t even hold a pen
steady.”
“Maybe she’s some kind of…” Barnes said, snapping his
fingers. “Oh, what’s that animal?”
“Huh?”
“You know? That animal that can change colors…”
“A chameleon?”
“Yeah!” Barnes exhaled.
“What are you talking about?”
“I meant, maybe she’s like a chameleon and can still write.”
O’Rourke gave Barnes a look conveying her confusion, a look he’d seen before.
“Like she could be strung out, but yet still write this,”
Barnes said pointing to the note. “Like she was two people…that’s what I
meant.” After a moment Barnes said, “So, who do you think wrote it? Her
daughter?”
“Probably. Where is she, anyway?”
“She’s at Human Services,” Barnes said looking at the
notebook.
“We’ll need to talk to her after we’re done here,”
O’Rourke lamented…the only thing worse than looking into the face of the dead
was looking at the eyes of those still living.
O’Rourke walked to the bathroom as the two uniformed
officers were leaving. Their job was done; O’Rourke’s was just beginning.
495 Words
*
