A Fairy Visit – Denta

Jun 23, 2011 by Sara

High above her head, the twine pulled taught and a tiny brass bell began to ring.

ting. ting. tingggg.

“Another one!”

Excitedly, Denta leapt up and reached for the tweed sack that lay at her feet. The moonlight around her became speckled with silver and gold dust as she rustled her plump form to attention.

Dust.

Wings.

Silver…

She held her breath and waited as her heels slowly lifted from the floor, then her tippy toes. Quietly, softly, she began to rise, out the open window and towards the huge glowing moon, her wings leading the way.

The crisp air tickled her nose as she rose up and down with the night zephyrs of summer.

Within minutes Denta hovered outside the window and peeked through the blinds. She watched carefully and counted.

One… two… three… ten… twelve…

She looked for the familiar rhythmic breathing and twitching and then reached into her sack. With a dash of glitter at the window, she flit through the pane and softly landed next to the sleeping babe’s ear.

Carefully, she wedged herself under the pillow and searched for the treasure, the reason why she was there tonight. Being so small, this took a couple of minutes of careful prodding before she could locate the tiny pearl. Until…

There it is!

A perfectly chipped and shiny tooth, evidence of the first 5 years of one little life.

Stemming her excitement, she quickly swapped the tooth for a silver coin and scuttled back the way she came.

Looking back over her shoulder, she held her breath and slowly rose up into the air, towards the window, and out into the night air.

 

____________________

This week I participated in a flash fiction challenge from The Red Dress Club.

Here’s the prompt:  Flash Fiction can be fun and a real challenge. This week focus on the words and the strength of each to contribute to your story. Write a 300 word piece using the following word for inspiration: LIFE.

Anna lost her second tooth today and this small piece captures what is going on in our lives right now, a little visit by the Tooth Fairy, whom I will call Denta.

 

 

 

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Pink Princess Phone

Jun 6, 2011 by Sara

I could speed dial my friends’ phone numbers faster than the actual speed dial button.
The grey plastic keys like second nature, much like laptop keys are to me now. Without looking I could dial and be connected within seconds.

And we would talk…about nothing.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“What’s up?

“Nothin’.”

“What are you up to?”

“Nothing…”

We would talk for an hour – sometimes two, about nothing.

There was no texting, no cell phones, no instant messaging or emails.  We spoke on the phone or wrote notes, sometimes 2 to 3 pages long, in study hall and during history.  We passed them in the hall or left them wedged in locker doors.  We ran to the bus yelling: CALL ME!!

We dialed from memory and spoke about nothing, for hours.

Do they still do that?

I wonder.

 

 

We want to know what, from your childhood, do you still know by heart?

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War Games

May 23, 2011 by Sara

I met Ashley at day camp the summer of 1981, we were six.

Ashley was fun and fearless. She was fast and spunky. Not a troublemaker, but she would try just about ANYTHING. Translation, she could eat two fireball candies without flinching and then challenge and beat anyone in a running race with the candies still in her mouth. If you dared her to do something she would almost always agree to it and usually succeed.

I was the polar opposite of Ashley. Not neccesarily outgoing or gregarious like she and somewhat shy. My only redeeming quality was that I too was fast and athletic and I could keep up. I was up for just about anything, as long as it wasn’t breaking the rules. I was a rule followerer.

The first time I had a sleepover at Ashley’s house I was introduced to the game of “war.” As the oldest child and the only girl with no male cousins, this *game* was completely new to me. Ashley gave me a crash-course (stay low, don’t get caught) and sleepovers at her house became mini-games of RISK with neighborhood kids making up the different “sides.”

Most importantly, I learned that if I was going to sleep over, I had to bring all black clothing so we would be less consipicuous when on our missions.

We took this VERY seriously. With good reason.

Ashley’s older brother, Jay, became ‘General Jay’ and we were his soldiers. Orders were issued from the top and we were to execute them precisely. As it was possible to get promoted and demoted, you did your job with gusto. Failing to do so would mean something, but we never knew exactly what.

To be honest… I don’t remember just exactly what we were trying to “fight” in our war, there was no flag to capture, no prisoners to free. Mostly we just hid behind scratchy bushes and tried to move from location to location undetected. Usually, the game would end in an eruption of laughter at being discovered by another faction and resulting in our losing “the war.”

I guess it was more-or-less a glorified version of ‘hide and seek’.

Whatever it was, it was terrific fun and I ALWAYS wanted to sleep over at her house instead of mine.

One time, when there were no other neighborhood kids around, we decided to declare “war” on the elderly babysitter.

We quietly made our plan of attack, snuck outside and set up our posts as per General Jay’s orders. For effect, the General had burnt a cork and applied the ash to our faces to further camouflage disguises.

Ashley and I staked the outside of her parents’ solarium, looking in on the sliding glass doors while the boys circled around the back.

You can guess what happened next…

We pretty much gave the poor sweet lady a minor heartattack. Four dark shadowy figures rustling in the bushes resembles something straight out of a horror film. She screamed at the top of her lungs and we ran away laughing but all feeling pretty horrible at the same time.

At some point we outgrew “war” and moved on to boys and music. I couldn’t tell you exactly when this happened but naturally it just did. The neighborhood boys then became the target of notes and prank calls instead.

Today, all grown up, and thousands of miles apart, we still talk and strategize. My oldest friend and I now swap stories about our daily struggles on the battlefield of mommyhood and life with toddlers and preschoolers. Definitely, not as often as we’d like – but when we do it’s like old times, because like a good solider, I always know she’s got my back.

 

This was written as a prompt for the Red Dress Club: “This week, we want you to recall the games you played when you were young.”
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Bacon, Egg and Cheese

May 12, 2011 by Sara

 

“Bacon, egg and cheese please”
Brian starts to assemble my order with a sense of familiarity; a fluidity.
How many of these has he made already today?

The B.E.C. or, sometimes, the H.E.C.: Ham, egg and cheese, a classic breakfast sandwich and THE staple for all hangovers after a night out in NYC.

Kaiser roll. Fried egg. Crispy, crispy bacon. American cheese.

While the griddle sizzles, my hands start to shake.
My insides churn, desperate for sustenance. Something please to soak up the alcohol.

Feebly, I murmur: “Coffee. Regular. Please.”

Glaring from behind my dark sunglasses that so far have protected me from the harsh lights, I watch as he first generously scoops the sugar, then squirts two shots of pale blue milk into the cup. Finally, he pours the steaming black silk into a paper cup emblazoned with blue greek keys.

Why the hell, do all the delis in NYC have the exact same paper cups? Somewhere there is a very wealthy Greek paper cup manufacturer…

I watch as he methodically snaps the plastic lid on.
Yep. Probably better to wait until I’m back upstairs. Just in case.

I spy a neon orange Gatorade in the fridge across from me and motion towards it.
My head is throbbing… my eyeballs hurt. Each step takes extra effort, extra concentration.

I pull the cold drink from the cooler and immediately condensation forms around its neck.

It’s going to be so hot today.

I weakly twist the top and with a loud crackle the lid unsnaps from the plastic ring. Even this requires me to pause.

What the hell did we drink last night?

I remember pitchers of margaritas when the waiters came to prepare the guacamole at our table using a pestle and mortar, chopping each and every ingredient fresh in front of us.

Was that all I ate? Guac and chips?? No wait…

Then I think there were beers after the quesadillas. Then another margarita maybe?
Then a cab. Lizzie ordered a fishbowl drink and more beer.
Someone bought shots. Tequilas. Two rounds.

Did I get up on the bar???

The sugary drink greets my lips and my tongue is immediately grateful for the relief. But I wince with each sip.

This drink is way too sweet. Blech…

Electrolytes.

Drink it.

I shuffle back towards the deli counter, praying that my lifeline is ready. That I can grab the white paper bag and head upstairs. To my bed. To recover from last night and all those drinks. Into the air conditioning. Where I can hide. Until tonight.

Oh crap… drinks, tonight...

 

 

DON’T FORGET to enter the Fabulous Fabkins Giveaway!

 

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A Baby’s Sleep

Apr 14, 2011 by Sara

High up on the 14th floor, the bedroom was pitch dark, blacklight shades entombed her. The streets below had finally quieted with the only sound from city buses screeching at the corner light; a familiar lullaby she had thought she would never get used to.

An hour ago, her daughter had been coughing, that whooping, alarming cough that keeps a mother from truly nestling into the warmth of her own covers.  The potential for hacking sounds from the converted dining room next door caused her to be ready to dart to her baby’s side.

The neighbors had been arguing all evening, something about a green rental car and a missing cell phone.  Three times she had grabbed the broom and rapped at the ceiling for them to shut up. Finally she heard a door slam and she was grateful for the only sound now coming from the shuffling of the victors’ feet on the wood floors above.

Her daughter was only lightly sleeping… the slightest thing would start the coughing fits all over again.

Her mind had finally stopped racing and her eyes softly fluttered and then sealed with the determination to get rest.

Tonight she would steal maybe just five hours of precious sleep.

All she wanted was five uninterrupted hours.

 

Her body exhaled as each muscle melted into the familiar mattress. Her breathing shallowed and rhythmically her chest rose and fell into a pattern.  Finally, she was sleeping.

—-

She heard her name being called but she couldn’t pinpoint from where. Something was in her hand and she heard her name over and over again. Finally she realized the receiver was just inches from her ear.

“…h-h-hell-” Sheila tried to swallow.

“SHEILA! …SHEEILA!… ARE YOU THERE?!”

A man’s voice shouted through the earpiece and echoed in her bedroom.

“…hello?”

“SHEEILA, WHY AREN’T YOU HERE?”

Her lips were cracked and her mouth was dry, Sheila tried to answer: “Who is this?” but only half of the sentence croaked out. She tried again, this time with more air behind her words: “WHO IS THIS?”

Her voice was still groggy and unsteady.

The man on the other end was strangely familiar but she had no idea who was calling her name.

“SHEILA!! WE MISS YOU GIRL! YOU SHOULD BE HERE!”

The man’s voice was complimented by three other strange voices, all of them shouting. She couldn’t make any of them out.

Her heart started to race as became more and more alert. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand and slowly the numbers came into focus. 3:31AM.

Shit – she thought.

From the other room, she heard her daughter rustle and start to murmur. Then she heard a cough.

Her hand rubbed her eyes and then her hair as she let out a huge yawn. She was not yet awake as she tried to concentrate.

“Who IS this?” she demanded.

“It’s Brian!  We wish you were here girl!”

Then it clicked.

Brian. Prom.

Tonight was prom. She was supposed to be out with her friends enjoying the last night of high school madness.

But instead she was here, sleep deprived, worried about her baby girl in the next room.

Last year, she’d spent the entire night with Brian talking about what their senior prom would look like. A lot had happened in a year, she’d forgotten completely about tonight. Her priorities had changed.

“I gotta go” she said as she lunged the handset back into its cradle.

She heard the mounting cries and labored wheezes from the room next door.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and shuffled to her baby girl.

This was fiction that I wrote for the Red Dress Club. The assignment was:
“In the middle of the night, you get an urgent call from a friend you haven’t talked to in years. Something terrible has happened. What is it and why is he/she calling you?”

I have never written fiction before. It was not easy and honestly i had no idea where I would end up. Part of me hoped that if I started I might spit out the next “Twilight” series, alas, no such luck.

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