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Week 56 (June 14 - 19)
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Title: Sun, Ice Cream, and Memories
Author: Olivia
Words: 786
Notes: I originally wrote this for the army topic last week...
A grassy park. Trees spreading their branches over the cobbled paths and worn wooden benches, creating dappled patches of murky shade, a haven from the egg-yolk-yellow sun hanging high in the sky. Rays of light from the sun, just past the zenith of its eternal trek over the horizon, swept over everything, from the flowers stretching greedily to meet them to the bald man absent-mindedly rubbing his head as he read the newspaper, unaware of the growing circle of pink on his crown. In addition to these deeds, however, the weather was melting ice cream, and it was melting it fast.
“Damn!” A gruff man slammed his hand down on a cart. Tall yet stooped with hardship and sporting a stubby goatee streaked with grey, the same color accenting his raven-black bangs, he was selling homemade ice cream in every flavor imaginable. But it was all melting. His partner looked over at him, smiling as he raised an eyebrow. “It’s a catastrophe! Call in the National Guard – no, better yet, the army! Save the slightly overheated ice cream!” The friend shook his head slightly. “Really, Rick, all we need is a little more ice.” “Oh, shut it, I know you’re right, Joe you ruffian,” Rick relented. He trudged over to the cooler and adjusted the ice. A little girl with pigtails sticking out from each side of her head skipped up to the stand holding her mom’s hand. “Hi!” She bounced up and down trying to see the selection, finally settling for standing on her very tiptoes with her chin resting on the top, wide eyes taking in the sight of the many flavors. The partners exchanged looks, and Rick brought out a step stool for the young kid. She beamed at him and asked for “a strawbee banana cone please!” Fifteen minutes later, she returned, still bouncing, with a big pink spot on her shirt and a request for more ice cream. Rick slipped into a daydream as he supplied her with more sugar than was probably advisable. She reminded him of a little girl he’d served ice cream to in Seattle a year ago. Rick prided himself on his excellent memory, and though he never allowed himself to laugh at the time, he often chose to fix funny moments in his mind, moments in which he would have laughed, if only she was there to share the joke.
She was the subject of some of his favorite memories, but he only ever allowed himself to think of one. It was just after he had first learned to make ice cream at culinary school, and they were in his kitchen together, creating a batch of chocolate peanut butter, playfully getting peanut butter over everything, including each other, and it was then he had realized he was in love. Years later, he would try to persuade her not to join the army, admitting that he selfishly wanted to keep her hoe with him, safe. She laughed, kissed him, and walked off to report for duty. He soon learned that she had been posted somewhere rather dangerous, and then that a plane she was scheduled to be on had been blown up. Since they hadn’t married before she left, and he didn’t know any of her relatives who remained alive at that time, he could not get any more information. And so he lost her. That day was the day that Rick’s onyx hair acquired its first streak of silver.
But Rick didn’t allow himself to dwell on any of that. He snapped himself out of his daydream and went to work mechanically. Joe recognized the signs of his melancholy and left him alone. The day wore on, as days are wont to do, and Rick stayed deep within the place inside himself where he went to survive each day. The evening came, and soon business slowed with the setting sun. Rick and Joe sat together, feet up, pensively waiting for the last couple customers of the day. Suddenly Rick sat bolt upright. He locked eyes with Joe. Those eyes now seemed to almost pop out of his head, contrasted with the sudden pallor of his face. “Did you…” he stammered. Equally astonished, Joe nodded his head vigorously. “I saw!” Assured that it was no illusion, Rick immediately sprinted off with his heart pumping like mad, feet pounding the ground as if doing thief utmost to crack it to pieces, chasing down the girl with short black hair flowing behind her in the wind, the figure receding into the distance. Rick had found his Juliet. Luckily he had sidestepped the tragic ending.
He taps her shoulder. She turns. Joy lights the night sky, highlighting it with red.
Title: Utopia
Author: Gwen
Words: 550 (exactly!)
Notes: I hadn't intended to put a moral in it...it just fit.
Outside an American Club a man stumbles through the deserted streets holding an empty beer bottle. A couple blocks away a young girl quickly pecks a boy on the cheek before running into her house. While an old woman sat on her porch in a rocker humming old show tunes and watching the stars. Across town a middle aged man walked home from work without a care in the world. His life was going perfectly. He was successful at his job, he had a wonderful family, and was debt free. But his world was shattered when he was pulled into an alley by a young ruffian. He was beaten senseless and left for dead. The thug had taken his money and his dignity, leaving him nothing but his underwear to cover him in the chill of the fall night.
He’d had no worries when he’d left from work that day. He lived in his own safe little world. There weren’t any problems in his town. No criminals, no troublemakers, nothing to fear. But at that moment he was filled with fear, jumping at the wind. Questions took over his thoughts. Who would provide for his wife and baby boy if he was dead? What is this happened to her? Was this really what the world was like? If it was, he didn’t want his children to grow up in it.
He slowly limped his way to his home, two blocks away, wincing at every step. His wife gasped as he walked through the kitchen door. Hair matted to his head, bruises already showing on his face and arms, almost naked. He was a sight to see, but his wife quickly gathered everything she needed. She cared for him carefully, calling the doctor, cleaning his wounds, calming his fears. When the doctor arrived and concluded that the injuries looked worse than they really were, the man gave a sigh of relief.
The man’s injuries took a while to heal. And the more time he had to just sit and ponder, the more he found his thoughts returning to that night. If there was no one to cause trouble, then there would be no pain. The world would be safe and secure. He found himself blocking out the world, missing things happening right in front of his eyes to picture a utopia, thinking of all the bad that would not be there.
When the man was finally able to return to his regular daily routine, he had a renewed conviction. He would find the lawless brute that’d done this to him and bring him to justice along with any other ruffian and criminal he found. His wife was silent as he told her what he planned on accomplishing. A world free of evil and pain. She looked at him and contemplated before she spoke her thoughts to him. She told him that the world wasn’t all bad. There were many good people out there, yes, there were criminals and hooligans out there too, but if you focused on the bad you’d overlook the good. Like the neighbor who’d mowed the lawn while he was recovering, the coworker who’d brought them dinner, and the babies first steps.
The man thought about what his wife had said and smiled. “That’s why I married you.”
Author: Gwen
Words: 550 (exactly!)
Notes: I hadn't intended to put a moral in it...it just fit.
Outside an American Club a man stumbles through the deserted streets holding an empty beer bottle. A couple blocks away a young girl quickly pecks a boy on the cheek before running into her house. While an old woman sat on her porch in a rocker humming old show tunes and watching the stars. Across town a middle aged man walked home from work without a care in the world. His life was going perfectly. He was successful at his job, he had a wonderful family, and was debt free. But his world was shattered when he was pulled into an alley by a young ruffian. He was beaten senseless and left for dead. The thug had taken his money and his dignity, leaving him nothing but his underwear to cover him in the chill of the fall night.
He’d had no worries when he’d left from work that day. He lived in his own safe little world. There weren’t any problems in his town. No criminals, no troublemakers, nothing to fear. But at that moment he was filled with fear, jumping at the wind. Questions took over his thoughts. Who would provide for his wife and baby boy if he was dead? What is this happened to her? Was this really what the world was like? If it was, he didn’t want his children to grow up in it.
He slowly limped his way to his home, two blocks away, wincing at every step. His wife gasped as he walked through the kitchen door. Hair matted to his head, bruises already showing on his face and arms, almost naked. He was a sight to see, but his wife quickly gathered everything she needed. She cared for him carefully, calling the doctor, cleaning his wounds, calming his fears. When the doctor arrived and concluded that the injuries looked worse than they really were, the man gave a sigh of relief.
The man’s injuries took a while to heal. And the more time he had to just sit and ponder, the more he found his thoughts returning to that night. If there was no one to cause trouble, then there would be no pain. The world would be safe and secure. He found himself blocking out the world, missing things happening right in front of his eyes to picture a utopia, thinking of all the bad that would not be there.
When the man was finally able to return to his regular daily routine, he had a renewed conviction. He would find the lawless brute that’d done this to him and bring him to justice along with any other ruffian and criminal he found. His wife was silent as he told her what he planned on accomplishing. A world free of evil and pain. She looked at him and contemplated before she spoke her thoughts to him. She told him that the world wasn’t all bad. There were many good people out there, yes, there were criminals and hooligans out there too, but if you focused on the bad you’d overlook the good. Like the neighbor who’d mowed the lawn while he was recovering, the coworker who’d brought them dinner, and the babies first steps.
The man thought about what his wife had said and smiled. “That’s why I married you.”
Mod
Author: Arthur
Words: 1488
Notes: I’m sorry if you can read this…
..........
“Mary Anne.”
Mary Anne?
She heard her name while she droned near being asleep while in her thoughts. Mary Anne had no claim to knowing the weather. She really kept away from the blitzes about the entertainment on the internet. One thing she did do although was write column after column for a rag paper. Only the pay wasn’t so good.
Now suddenly she received a sizable pay cheque with the increase. Recently Mary Anne’s articles had taken on many controversies and now were selling as her advice. Indeed had just helped the Wig Standard Entertainment from a starving paper out of poverty.
Two more weeks would pass before her editor-in-chief and the man she feared or loathed for a year since she came to the big Wig Standard Entertainment was congratulating her upon the threshold of his office. He even offered her one of his gentlemanly cigars. Ted Nutshells smiled when he held out the box. She declined and passed on the information that smoking would cause cancer, he snapped it shut again unsure how to judge little Miss Mary Anne.
Not long ago she had started here he thought and now she has single handedly created the largest buzz in history with her own personal fan cult. Mary Anne held her breath from the smell off his breath at his invitation to take a chair.
She shook her head as she found his white cold face and wondered when the last time was he had spent any in some sun. He took his time before speaking too. Doing the dankest thing he took out clippers and cut off one end of his editor-in-chief expensive cigars to smoke.
She choked as he lighted.
“I like your work. I don’t say it often enough.” He paused. “To you.” He finished.
She felt she was supposed to grin or something instead she found she felt irritated at his proposals and sweaty behind her collar. She was due some real raises and had saved the paper probably from being bankrupt. Her column means big money only now she had the queer feelings everyone thought about, it was about time to try to cash in on the success. There needed to be a legal contract with bigger money to boot. She wondered as she watched him as he puffed away on the cigar.
“It comes to our attention you are a big name and this is a small, or as this paper had been, even, in the past we tried to carry your stories across to as many people as we could only we feel we can’t continue in this speed.” Another pause. “So I suggest we try and sell your column rights to a few others of the Medias. They could be paying you more in a month than you made here in a year’s salary.”
“You’re overwhelmed, I know Mary Anne. Remember us even when you are writing for those other news papers as a professional. And the metropolitans are talking big about controversies it seems. So move up in the world.”
He stuck out his big hand and held it out to her. He puffed on his cigar and the smoke didn’t smell any better than his breath did until her leaving the editor-in-chief’s office and she closed that door.
She had the idea there was going to be big changes in Mary’s life though she realized quickly that the money will start rolling in that when she returned to her dank roomer-apartment room, weeks ago it was normal to be quiet, not now though for it had strangers waiting for successes behind every door in her building. Each person felt weary until they could step out each afternoon and say hi to Mary Anne since she became well known, she felt so much attention was so much regret. She thought in a little while instead of craving attention she was happy by being shy too.
After selling every week to a larger audience Mary Anne now had enough credibility to borrow on a mortgage. It was not going to be a bad thing paying it back nor be cheap even though she bought a little hobby farm in the country which is more expensive to buy and keep than real working farms today. Mary Anne had a need for quiet and was much too fed up with pomp and the noise and attention of it all, so she moved to the country in a fit.
Not knowing the country well but finding peace and solitude she booted up her laptop and issued another column having emailed it to her editor. A brief smile burked on the creases of her lips. The combination of success and the caffeine in her cup perked her beyond self recognition. It had been her third day already and she had yet met anyone much less moved in. Clothes were strewn around. She had made her bed on a couch. Did her laundry in the kitchen. Quietness hung about the room of her new home. This was another success. The soothing hush of country wind blowing softly along grass at departure of morning until the darkness came and the sunsets. She promised tomoorow she would explore the entire house. It was her triumph of personal enjoyment of being alone at last far away from the wreaking pollution and city.
Tomorrow she would step outside and see how her hobby farm looked as since she pictured it only at the real-estate agency when she made her rush purchase choice. The weather had been nice and she got a lot of work done on her computer freeing up at least a day for her solitude. She would use it and begin strolling through the outdoors.
After a quick look round that day Mary Anne decided the yard needed help by some landscaper company or other to weed the disgusting yard. Fences were seen everywhere separating many of the hobby farms which were sold in lots at condo prices likely than not. She couldn’t see over her fence to any other house. She couldn’t tell if they were being kept nice.
She found a stairs to her second floor later for the first time finding the large bedroom. It had a large picture window from where she could see across several houses in the fair distance. Row after row it seemed to her of hobby farms stretching past a horizon. Only thing that separate them was a few acres. Each of those were mostly she was thankful attractive unlike hers that had been weedy before she bought it.
A trip to the local town for supplies and seeing a hardware store Mary Anne ventured in only to buy rakes and shovels and a wheel barrel. After getting some price estimates from the local landscapers and the fact that they would come and go when they please Mary Anne pictured them disturbing here solitude and decided to do her work herself.
While Mary had been in the town her mother called leaving a message on the answering machine. Both she and Mary Anne’s sister planned would visit. They would arrive in two days. Mary Anne was taken aback because her sister had always been such a nag. She loved her mother. But mother would agree with the entire of the sister’s complaints making a fact of a visit was going to be painful until they went home. Her farm made a great place to start a family plot.
Working up the soil to plant cucumbers in a row she hears a brush past a fence. There must have been someone on the other side of her fence. Fascinated it was a neighbor she hums a tune to break any tension of meting a neighbor. The voice of a male hums in a similar way and his hands rise up over the white boarded fence.
He offers her a tulip. He says they grow almost wild now on his farm. At first his voice is too low. Not even able to hear she gets closer. His rough voice becomes pleasing, sounding handsome and she can’t quite put her finger on where she heard such strong tones. After chatting a few moments she notices he’s quiet too, hot, unlike most men who had those irritating habits of being rude!
He offers her roses this time. Saying yes she raised both arms to his. She feels his hands this time and finds them warm. He grabs one arm after the other. She’s mildly freaked. He lifts her over the fence.
The next day her emails piled up all unanswered. Her editor worries and calls through the phone to receive no answer either. The editor went to the house to find Mary Anne dead. Mutilated by a serial killer dubbed by the press as The Ruffian. He intimates his victim using gifts then just cuts up his victims in violent death.
The end.
Mod
We will start having a new weekly contest starting every Monday. See you soon.
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I will soon have to learn how to update the group but until I do things will have to go slow.
Please do not use a story previously used on goodreads. After the week's contest, you are welcome to put it on your profile writings, but please refrain from using stories you have already put on there.
You have until Saturday afternoon to post a story on here. Please post it directly onto this topic, rather than posting a link. Also, please do not discuss stories on here. You must go to Weekly Short Story Contest Discussion for that. This will avoid any clutter and confusion, so that people can simply come on here and read the story, without having to read comments on the story.
This week's Topic is Ruffian. If anyone has any objections to this topic, please go to the Objections post. The rules are pretty loose. You could write pretty much anything. Just have the word in the story.
Weekly stories must be at least 500 words long to 2,500 words long. (if the whole story won't fit in one post, divide it into two)
Good luck!
Arthur [acting for Clare:]
P.S. PLEASE say if you would like to have your story on Short Story Galore, if you win. This way it wouldn't take me ages to get your consent afterwards. This includes adding a link to your stories. If you want to have your story on the Short Story Galore, but not the link, just say so.