I don’t want to be here. I can’t wait to move out of this house. That sounds terrible, I know. After all, it’s a beautiful old building. I used to love it here but those days are gone and it’s time for me to move on. Sometimes, that’s just the right thing to do, you know? But I’m stuck. I can’t go yet and it makes me crazy. Continue reading “Tale Number Ninety-One – Moving On”
Needle In the Haystack
When he got her call, Jim headed straight over to her house. She didn’t answer the door, so he made his way around to the gate and let himself into the back yard. She was there, piling the contents of several storage boxes into the stone fire pit that dominated her patio area.
“Ella? What’s going on?”
“You’re just in time,” she answered. “Come help me stack the rest of this stuff in here.” Continue reading “Tale Number Ninety – Needle In the Haystack”
The Grass Is Always Greener
Please see the Author’s Note at the end.
Buying her house was a big deal. It was five years of careful planning and rigid self-control to save enough money for the down payment. It was very important to Gina that she do it entirely on her own, as well. Her parents had, of course, offered to help, as did her grandmother. Gina appreciated it and loved them all for their enthusiasm for her plan, but she refused. It was going to be her house, every square inch. Continue reading “Tale Number Eighty-Nine – The Grass Is Always Greener”
Please see author’s note at the end.
“Perhaps you should take one of your sisters. The sun is near setting.”
“Mother, I’ll be fine. I’m going to Athena’s shrine. The goddess will protect me and I’ll be home before dark.” Medusa smiled at her mother as she packed the food and coins of her offering into a leather bag.
“Mother’s right, you know,” said a voice behind her. Stheno. “You are not safe on your own.”
“I’ll be fine, sister,” Medusa answered, firmly. “I go to pray to Athena. I don’t require an escort for that.” Continue reading “Tale Number Eighty-Eight – Medusa”
The New French Chef
Dan pushed his chair back from a table a few inches and patted his stomach appreciatively.
“Herb, that was an amazing meal,” he said. “I mean it. I go to restaurants at least four nights a week and I haven’t had anything as good as this meal in the past year.”
“Really? Thanks,” said Herb. He smiled almost shyly. “I’m glad you liked it. Cooking is a nice little hobby for me.” Continue reading “Tale Number Eighty-Seven – The New French Chef”
prompt: relatively painless
“That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”
Laurel glanced over at Brian’s smug expression and returned her attention to packing her messenger bag.
“I’m going home,” she said. “Stick a fork in me. I am officially done.”
“Don’t be such a baby,” said Brian. “Any meeting you can walk away from is a good meeting.” Continue reading “Tale Number Eighty-Six – My Command”
Better Than Nothing
“Dude, you are one cold bastard.”
“I am not! I’m just following instructions,” Will replied. He focused on the papers in his hands, a frown of concentration on his face. Continue reading “Tale Number Eighty-Five – Better Than Nothing”
In a Blink
When she was still quite a young woman, hardly more than a girl, her mother told her it would happen.
“You’ll see, Frances,” she said. “Time will pass more quickly with every year. What seemed like such a long, hot summer to a child will be gone in a blink of your eye.” Continue reading “Tale Number Eighty-Four – In a Blink”
It was such an incongruous thing. Daniel looked around at the brown, wilted, trampled remains of what had, probably very recently, been a beautiful kitchen garden. He could see a few odd sprouts where there had been a line of radishes or maybe turnips over to his right. To his left, the dried, broken stalks of corn must have been as high as the elephant’s eye spoken of in the song. At his feet were the ragged remains of cabbages. Directly in front of him, beyond the blackened, trampled cabbage leaves was the tape outline. Incongruous. Continue reading “Tale Number Eighty-Three – Incongruous”
The Perhaps Bag
Please see the author’s note at the end.
“Hurry up, Anna,” Dad called. “I’m starting the car!”
Anna shoved her arms into her jacket. “Why do I have to go, anyway?”
“You love going to the airport,” her mother answered from the doorway.
“I love Grandma, but she’s so, I don’t know, strange.” Continue reading “Tale Number Eighty-Two – The Perhaps Bag”