Fictional Friday - The Broken Windshield

Fiction Friday Challenge for December 12, 2008:



Tell us the story behind this picture. Broken Windshield., originally uploaded by Rich Anderson.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this, Deb. But you didn't listen - you never listen." Stephen stood towering over the petite form of his wife, his soon to be ex-wife, the battered Louisville Slugger in his oversized hands.

"I didn't want to do this - it's all your fault!" He walked back to the trunk of the shiny new Ford Tauris, the gritty snow from the driveway crunching under his size 13 boots. He opened the trunk and pulled out a frayed blanket.

"Here ... wrap yourself in this; you'll catch your death of cold in this f***ing weather." He threw the blanket at her.

Cautiously, Deb pulled the blanket around her body, trying to make herself as small as possible. Uncontrollable shaking had overtaken her body and her lips were turning blue.

"Stephen, please ... please let me go back inside." She hated herself for crying, for showing weakness.

"Oh, you can go back inside. You can go back inside when I'm done with your boyfriend's car!" He swung the bat and smashed out another headlight. The headlight shattered into a million pieces and dropped to the snowy ground. When he had hit the windshield earlier, the glass hadn't shattered, only cracked and spread like a spider's web.

Deb managed to scramble to her feet, one foot slipping out of her houseshoe. She saw crabby Mrs. Shuster from across the street, standing in her front door. Deb had faith her nosey neighbor had called the police - after all, she had called the police on other nights when Stephen lost his temper.

Crash!

Stephen was now slamming the bat into the driver's side window.

Crash!

Now the back glass was spreading like the spider's webs on the front window.

Suddenly, Deb saw blue lights strobing in the distance. Relieved her ordeal was almost over, her cries became more hysterical. She ran to the end of the driveway, her one bare foot slipping on the snow and ice.

Police officer number one asked Deb if she was all right, while officer number two ushered her into the warmth of the police cruiser. Then both officers approached Stephen, tazers in hand.

Dropping the bat without a fight, Stephen surrendered to the officers, all the while mumbling about his f***ing wife and her f***ing boyfriend.


With Stephen handcuffed and secure in the police cruiser with officer number two, Deb was allowed to go into the house to change into warmer clothes with officer number one in tow.

"Ma'am - what set your husband off tonight?" He had his little black notebook out, pencil at the ready.

"I came home from work driving a new car," Deb sat down on the couch.

"That car in the driveway?"

"Yes, I had just picked it up from the dealership this afternoon."

"Did your boyfriend buy you the car, ma'am?" The police officer looked up at Deb's tear stained face.

"No, officer." She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out an envelope. She handed the envelope to the office. "Read it."

He tore the envelope open and read the card inside, "To Stephen, Merry Christmas, Deb."

"The car was from me to my husband."

**Sorry about that! This got a little dark, but it's what the muse planted in my head.**

Fictional Friday #81

This week's Fictional Friday is:

Invent a holiday for which your character is a big fan

Susie licked her lips again, savoring the fresh, crisp taste of peppermint. The candy cane was down to a slivered point, but the wonderful pepperminty flavor was still there.

Candy Cane Day has always been her favorite holiday - second only to Christmas. Falling on the first Friday after a full moon after Thanksgiving, Candy Cane Day typically fell before Christmas. Only once in her lifetime had this holiday fallen after Christmas, but she had been too young to remember this.

Susie would start collecting candy canes immediately after Halloween - all shapes and sizes of candy canes. There were the traditional red and white ones, but also green and red, green and black, and sometimes just solid colors. Most were the traditional shape of a shepherd's hook, but she held a special fondness in her heart for the log rolls. These canes were straight and as big around as the miniature Louisville Slugger she displayed in her room. Her grandmother always gave you a log rolled candy cane and Susie could eat on the stick for weeks before it disappeared.

Standing in the front yard, she stared at the lovely cedar tree growing near the mailbox. This tree was the same age as she - 31 years - and was a volunteer seedling that appeared the same year she was born. Her parents had left the tree growing and now it stood over 20 feet tall. This was Susie's favorite tree.

Her parents had been gone now for almost 3 years, but Susie would continue the tradition of hanging candy canes from the cedar tree. It reminded her of the parents she missed so much - and it helped her to celebrate Candy Cane Day.

Fictional Friday

Fictional Friday Challenge for November 14, 2008:

Write about a Hunter’s Moon.

The Hunter's Moon

O the Hunter's Moon is hanging low
The brightest moon of all the fall;
What does it mean, where does it go,
When deep in the valley it calls to all.

The Red Man called you Hunter's Moon
To correspond with the Hunter's Feast;
But before you know it, you're gone too soon,
Leaving a mourning in all the beast.

The myth and lore of your precious light,
Brings you so much closer to the earth;
You give us hope, you give us sight,
At just your size and mighty girth.

You're gone again for one full year,
But the Oak moon will arrive very soon;
You sooth and calm and alleviate fear,
As we wait upon the coldest moon.

Fictional Friday - A Recurring Dream

Fictional Friday Challenge for November 7, 2008:

Write about a recurring dream.

Why is Every Night a Nightmare?

Why is it the same dream keeps echoing through the tattered regions of my brain? Why is it so hard to let go of the past? Why do my daily trials and errors always show themselves in the dark?

Most of my recurring dreams pertain to past mistakes in my life: failed marriage, failed jobs, failed success ... failed anything. Just when I think I'm leaving the past behind, my brain rears its ugly head and assaults my dreaming subconscious.

Why, why, why???

In today's modern world with accelerating technology and the mantra to be bigger and better than everyone else, what has happened to the little things in life? No more days of lazying in the dappled sunlight of a shade tree - instead it's cell phones, text messaging, and what the hell is a blackberry? The only blackberries I know about are the ones growing in my backyard!

This hurry up mentality ends up the fuel for my every growing nightmares. Screw up at work and a giant evil clown shows up to try and stab me to bits. Forget a vitally important meeting and the darkness gangs up on me and sends me running down one eerie tunnel after another. Have cross words with my sweetheart and I'm bombarded with teeth-gnashing cougars all trying to steal my man.

It's amazing how the subconscious brain interrupts the conscious brain, turning mundane daily acts into head-rearing, mind-blowing expletives of never ending falls off a cliff, knife stabs in the dark and teeth falling out all over the place.

"All I want to do is have some fun, and I've got the feeling I'm not the only one"... Thank goodness for the clock radio! Saved from another clown attack, but just knowing it's a nightmare doesn't mute the fact that my heart is already racing too fast for the beginning of the day.

(Artwork courtsey of Janus Head.)

No Halloween Candy for You!

Fictional Friday Challenge for October 31, 2008:

Write from the point of view of a child who went trick-or-treating, then had their parent take away all their candy so they wouldn’t get fat.

Why did she bother letting me go trick-or-treating, when all she would do later is take away my candy? This has been happening since I turned 6 years old. I spend all evening tracking through the neighborhood in my sparkly or spooky outfits, only to have my reward snatched from me after only one piece of ooey-gooey sweetness.

I may be 11 now, but I am not fat! In fact, my pediatrician keeps telling her I'm in the lowest 10 percentile for height and weight, but does she listen? Nooooooo. Just because she spent the majority of her teens and 20s as overweight and dumpy, doesn't mean I'm going to do the same thing. But she is so afraid that I will end up like she did. She keeps saying, "You are not going to end fat and unpopular the way I was!"

But this year, I've got a plan. This year I will get my candy and eat it too! My friend, Susie, is going to help.

After several weeks of pleading and begging, Mom finally agreed to let me go trick-or-treating with Susie and her mother, IF Susie's mom made sure I didn't eat any candy. Susie's mom promised to take my bag of candy as soon as we finished trick-or-treating.

Only mom doesn't know we have a plan - mom won't get away with it this year!

Susie's mom is really sweet, but she doesn't hover around as we go door to door. She waits on the sidewalk like most of the other parents, so this allowed us to pull off our plan. Susie was carrying her trick-or-treat sack, but she also had another sack hidden inside. After every house, I would put a few pieces into my hidden sack and one piece in the sack I was carrying.

By the end of the night, Susie's bag was overflowing because my hidden sack was also full. My regular sack was only half full and I promptly gave it to Susie's mom.

"I'm sorry you can't keep your candy, dear. But your mom will give you a few pieces at a time." Little did she know, that the candy would end up in the trash compactor!

Mom picked me up, and promptly took the sack from Susie's mom. When we got home, she allowed me to eat one piece before throwing the sack away. She did seem a little surprised I didn't kick up more of a fuss, but I told her I was just happy because I got to go trick-or-treating with Susie.

For the next few months, everyday after school I ended up at Susie's house. I ate Halloween candy until I thought I would be sick. It was the best Halloween ever because it kept on giving and giving and giving.

Fictional Friday

This week's Fictinal Friday:

"Write about 8."

Eight if the number of siblings in my father's family.

Eight o'clock in the morning is when I wake up.

Eight o'clock at night is when my hubby is usually home.

Eight years is how old I was when I read my first Trixie Belden Mystery book.

Eight years is how old my middle daughter was when my youngest daughter was born.

Eight o'clock every night is when I watch Countdown with Keith Olberman; except on Wednesday nights when I DVR Countdown, and watch the FOX TV series Bones first.

Eighth month - August - is when I was born.

Jon & Kate Plus 8 never cease to amazes me!