This week’s prompts are at the bottom. The stuff below was written for practice; because practice makes perfect.
Curtis came slowly awake; fighting towards consciousness as if swimming through Jell-O, rising to the surface, lungs burning. The phone, he realized, it’s the phone.
Gasping for breath, he fumbled the receiver; he managed to say, “Hello?”
“Open the door, dickhead,” he heard before the line went dead. He became aware of a pounding from downstairs.
He rubbed his eyes and rolled out of bed. The pounding grew more insistent.
“All right, all right; I’m coming,” he yelled. The interruption grew louder but slowed in tempo somewhat.
“WHAT?” he yelled, twisting the latch and pulling the door open. He was furious now.
“Jeeze, I thought you were never going to open the door.” A large woman, with a blue rinse in her hair, spoke as she hurried past him and headed straight to the guest toilet, beneath the stair.
“Shit. Mom?” Curtis said as he realized who his middle of the night guest was. “What are you doing here?” He spoke from outside the room as his mother had closed the door. There was no answer but he heard her turn on the sink. He was unsure if that was to cover the noise of her peeing or to cover up the sound of his voice so she wouldn’t feel compelled to answer. He tried again; louder.
“Mom? What the hell?”
He heard he shut off the water and flush the toilet. He backed away from the door as she was pulling it open.
“Hello, Curtis,” his mother said and she leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek. “I almost wet myself. What took you so long to get to the door? Do you have any coffee?” She paused and glanced around the living room.
“Mom?” He hadn’t seen his mother in almost a year. “What’s up Mom? “
“Curtis? This place is a mess, look at it. You could have at least cleaned the damn bathroom.”
“Mom? It’s…” he looked at the clock on the mantle,” It’s three a.m. What are you doing here? Where’s Dad?”
“I don’t know where your father is. He’s probably in a cheap motel room with some even cheaper hussy. As for why I’m here; I guess I’m moving in. I don’t think you’ve been eating right. And, just look at this place, it’s a fucking mess. You obviously need someone to take care of you. Do you have any coffee on, or what?”
Curtis ran his fingers through his hair, “No, Mom, I don’t have any coffee on but that’s something easy to rectify. Come on in the kitchen and fill me in on what’s happening. What do you mean ‘you’re moving in’?” He steered her towards the kitchen and sat her down on a stool at the island. As he filled the kettle he looked over his shoulder at his mother, He knew she’d been driving for three hours and she looked fraught, agitated. “Instant OK?”
“I’m leaving your dad, Honey. Your father’s been carrying on with that awful Margie Clausen, from the beauty shop.” She watched her son when she told him this.
“Jeeze, Mom,” he said, “That’s been going on for years, everyone knows that. You even know that. You’ve probably known since it started. Tell me something new.”
“You want me to tell you something you don’t know?” his mother said, “I’ll tell you this. Tonight, your father came home and told me that he wants a divorce. He wants to marry that horrible woman. There! Did you know that? Did you know that, Curtis?”
Mother and son looked into one another’s eyes. The kettle began to whistle and as it built up a head of steam the whistling got louder and shriller. Finally, he shut it off but he didn’t make coffee. He walked around to where his mother sat and took her in his arms.
“I’m so sorry, Mom,” he said.
She finally broke down. Her shoulders heaved once and she began to sob.
This week’s prompts are:
- we are protected by the monsters
- regift that
- large spots on casino dice
Go ahead and dive in, set your imagination free!
Ready, Set, Go – you have 25 minutes, but if that is not possible, take as long as you need.