Easy
Author’s note
This story is partly true, but I did a
fair bit of adapting and combining.
It should have
been easy. Mama drove away to her
appointment. After the appointment she was to pick up Papa, and they would come
home in about two hours. I would have supper ready.
I locked the door,
and headed for the kitchen. I passed my computer genius, ginger-haired brother, being brilliant in front of his laptop with
occasional pauses to make weird faces or imitate the voices of motion picture
villains. My floppy dark-headed brother, a natural
at the blarney, melted on the carpet. The little sister ran past, her hair like
a wild nomad’s, pink flip-flops
sticking to her feet and pulling off with a sound like pulling off a sticker.
She hated hairbrushes and socks.
I put rice and
water into a pot, set it on the burner, and turned the stove on. Now I deeded
to do nothing for a quarter hour or so save waiting for it to boil. So from the
well-stocked box of library books I chose one with a hooded archer on the cover
and began to engulf the contents.
The doorbell
rang. Now we were not the sorts to have visitors drop in; and I was under
orders that if anyone tried to come into the house when no parents were present
to call 911. I looked out at the
driveway, discreetly; though as my two younger siblings were screaming the
fellow could not have thought the house was empty. Unless he took it to be
badly haunted. A well-mired pickup I
had never seen before was parked in the driveway. He rang the bell again.
My heart throbbed as I dialed the number. As I explained the emergency, my brother
shrieked that the pick-up was leaving towards the town.
I barely concluded
speaking with the dispatcher before the rice began to boil over. I turned it
down and set the timer. Then, still
nervous, I went to my bedroom and drew my sword.
My sword has never
been used for feats of valor. But it
is long and heavy. So I carried it into the kitchen and laid it on the table.
This was November
and I had not been expecting visitors. I wore a red tartan skirt, a brown turtleneck,
a vaguely doublet-like velour vest with a hole I had been too lazy to fix, and
a leather belt to cement the Auld Scottish look. Then I had done my hair like
an elf from my favorite fantasy films, because I liked to do my hair like that.
And that is what
the kindly sheriff’s deputy saw when he arrived. My siblings ran to hide in
their bedrooms, because they dislike visitors in general. So I spoke briefly
with the enforcer of justice, he
left his card for my parents, and he departed.
I stirred the
rice. My younger brother screamed. I ran down the hallway. The boys ran out of
their bedroom and past me, yelling, “Giant spiders!”
The spider was aloft, dangling. It was at least three
inches, and I did not want to deal with it. I trotted for the vacuum.
The spider had
crawled into a hole. One leg protruded. I made a face at the carpenter who had built the cranny,
turned the vacuum on, and shoved the tip in, stretching. I deserve a Guinness
World Record for worst stretcher,
incidentally. After a couple minutes I removed the nozzle. No legs. Hopefully
the thing was swept.
In the kitchen the
rice timer had gone off. After washing my hands I stirred it. It was burnt onto
the pan, glued almost.
“They’re home!”
screamed a brother. They all emerged and ran down the stairs to the door.
Loud
storytelling. The day had been busy.
“What’s that on
your hands?” Mama asked my sister.
“Marker,” she
said.
“I’ll go make
sure it’s capped,” I said, and entered our bedroom. Blue permanent marker decorated
the bedspread, the curtains, the walls, my white blouse, and the quilt Mama had
sewed when I was a baby.
It was such an
easy day.
Copyright© 2014 by Abigail Leskey
Find Abigail's other stories on the Writer's Page
This was a really fun story :) And good job getting all the words into it as well! I particularly liked the part about you keeping your sword on the table, reminds me of me :P I'm glad this didn't really all happen in one day, that would have been a bit much!
ReplyDeleteThank you, I'm very pleased you liked it :) And the sword on the table is one of the true parts.
DeleteReally interesting concept, Abigail! I like the way you kept it short and sweet.
ReplyDeleteThe only thing I would ask is: What was going on with the visitor at the door and the truck? I was really interested in what was going on there and would love to know if there was any more behind it. Good story! I'm really honored to be writing with you girls. :)
Thank you, I'm honored you liked it :)
DeleteAs for the red truck incident, that is based on fact, and nothing more came of it. Perhaps he knew the former owner of the house. We were left wondering!
Abigail