A Glimpse

“Martha! Time to get up!”

A teenage girl groans and tries to pull the covers over her head. “I don’ wanna go ‘o school.”

“Martha! Up now!”

Martha groans again but rolls out of bed, bare feet landing on the cold wooden floor. “I’m up, Mom!”

“About blessed time.”

Martha sighs and begins to get ready for school.

An old man walks outside with a book in his hand. He sits down on the rocking chair on his porch and smiles, watching the street slowly become busy with morning joggers and children on their way to school. “Nothing really changes does it, Rose?” he says quietly, looking up at the sky. He chuckles, opens his book, and settles in to read for the day.

A pair of boys sneak out of their respective classrooms and off of the school campus. Upon seeing each other, they smile and take each other’s hands. Together they walk down the street and talk about their plans for the future. They stop at a picnic table overlooking a valley, and one kisses the other’s cheek.

A group of children travels through space, battling with creatures that most would balk at and exploring strange new worlds. Screams, laughter, and called orders can be heard from almost every corner of the park, causing the adults who frequent it to shake their heads with fond smiles. They remember the days they too fought horrible creatures in space.

A mother picks up her children’s toys. The house is empty this time of day. Her husband’s at work saving lives, and her children are at school, learning the seemingly unnecessary skills of math and reading. She catches a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and flashes herself a smile.

A single father runs his hands through his hair as he stares down at the bills he has no hope of paying any time soon. “Papa?” He turns and looks at his tiny daughter, her head tilted to one side.

“Hey, there, pumpkin,” he says, sliding down to the floor in front of her. “How’s it going?”

“Pway!” His daughter chants, bouncing on her feet with her arms in the air. “Pway!”

He chuckles and picks her up. “Here comes Wonder Woman to the rescue!”

His daughter squeals with laughter.

A young teen digs through the trash in hopes of finding some freshly disposed of food to fill his growling stomach. He is unsuccessful. He places his hands in his pockets and goes to leave the park in search of a better place to hunt.

“You hungry?”

He turns to find a woman holding out a freshly made burger. “Here you go, lad. Eat up.” She passes him the burger and rejoins her family.

He smiles and eats. His stomach is full for the first time in weeks.

The wind howls. It tosses the sand into the air and scatters it through the silent street. There are no voices. There are no squeals of laughter. The houses are empty. The street abandoned.No one has ever lived here. No one has ever dared.

April 2018 Short Story Prompt- A Whole New World: A story that challenges perspective. Final word count 513. Final screenshot count 8.

The Gift of Acceptance

It’s December. It’s December, and my parents want me to come home for Christmas, preferably with my ‘boyfriend’. Except, I have a girlfriend, not a boyfriend, and my parents are Catholic. Yeah, this isn’t anything to worry about at all.

“Grace, if you stress any more, you’ll give yourself gray hairs,” Laura says as she spins around in her chair.

I chuckle. “I thought you liked the idea of watching me go gray.”

“Yeah, when we’re little old ladies knitting sweaters for the grandkids,” Laura counters with a soft smile.

I stand, walking over to her and pulling her to her feet. “What would I do without you?” I ask.

Laura rests a hand on my cheek. “Probably die from exhaustion once all of your homework is due the next day, and you procrastinated all week.”

I sigh. “Of course, that’s what you assume would happen. I do have some sort of self-preservation you know.”

“Hmm, I haven’t seen it yet,” Laura teases.

“Because I have you.” I kiss her softly.

We pull apart, staying forehead to forehead. “We should probably pack,” Laura says.

“Details, details.” Even as I say it, I’m turning away and walking towards my dresser. Opening one of the drawers, I glance up and look at myself in the mirror. “It’s going to be fine,” I mutter. I grab some clothes and turn to put them in my bag. “It’s going to be fine.”

~*~

It’s not going to be fine. My mother is already glaring suspiciously at the two of us, and I can see my sister duck towards her room before Mom can begin her tirade. Luckily, Dad wasn’t home yet, so I didn’t have to deal with his “my way or the highway” attitude at the moment as well as Mom’s. “I thought you were bringing home your boyfriend,” Mom says with her arms crossed over her chest.

“I said, I was bringing home my significant other, and here she is. Mom, this is Laura, Laura, Mom,” I say.

“Hmpf.” Mom didn’t seem impressed. “Well, you’re here, so make yourself at home.” She turns away and marches back into the kitchen while I lead Laura to the guest room.

“I'm sorry,” I say after closing the door behind us, taking the very temporary opportunity to have a private moment with Laura. “I knew this was a bad idea. I shouldn't have brought it up.”

Laura places a finger against my lips, and I quiet. “This isn't your fault,” she says. “It was going to happen eventually and to be honest, it could have been a lot worse.”

I nod. “You're right.”

“I always am.”

I laugh, wrapping my arms around her and rubbing my cheek against her shoulder.

A soft knock at the door alerts us before the door cracks open. My sister poked her head in. “Mom says to keep the door open,” she says.

“Got it. How are you doing, Hope?”

“Eh, not bad,” Hope answers. “Glad to be on break though.”

“Me too, kid. Anyway, this is my girlfriend Laura.”

“Hello.” Hope waves. “What are you studying?” She asks.

“Astrophysics,” Laura answers, beginning to unpack her things.

“Really? That's so cool!” Hope bounces over and helps Laura unpack, asking questions the entire time.

~*~

Dinner is officially one of the most awkward meals of all time. Laura is sitting across from me beside Hope who is silently picking at her food. I could tell that dinner didn't meet Hope’s approval, but I am thankful that she isn't making a fuss over it.

Dad is sitting at the other end of the table, looking between Laura and I as if unsure how to address it. He appears to have settled on ignoring it for the time being, but that is hardly comforting.

And so the meal passes, in absolute silence. It is only after we are finished eating that Dad decides to begin his interrogation.

“So you're leasbians?” He begins.

“I am,” Laura says carefully, looking at me as she spoke. “Grace is bisexual.”

“I'm attracted to both men and women,” I add.

“So you lied to your mother about having a boyfriend…”

“I believe I used the words significant other which is distinctly gender neutral.”

“And you fail to inform us when we assume incorrectly? That is the same thing as a lie, Grace. I raised you better.” Dad stands up from the table and walks into his room, slamming the door behind him.

I nod my head, face tight, before standing and walking outside. The night air is crisp against my skin as I stand underneath the stars, looking up at them as if they held the answers to my problems.

Laura comes outside and stands beside me.

She wraps an arm around my shoulders. I turn so that I am pressed up against her chest, her chin resting on my head as she rubs my back. “Why can't they just accept us?” I ask quietly. A tear runs down my face and into the fabric of her jacket.

Laura doesn't answer.

~*~

Christmas morning dawns bright and early. Laura and I greet each other as we pass in the hallway before retreating to our respective rooms to await my parents as per family tradition. It is only just eight o’clock when my parents come down the hallway.

“Ready, girls?” Dad asks.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Hope bounces around in a circle. Laura and I laugh, exchanging fond smiles which do not go unnoticed by my dad as he raises an eyebrow in my direction.

Dad leads us down the hallway and into the living room where presents are stacked underneath the tree, and Hope has a stack of unwrapped gifts from Santa waiting for her. Hope begins rifling through her stack, gasping over new toys and books.

Dad begins to pass out presents once Hope has ceased her preliminary exploration of her initial gifts. He picks up a box wrapped carefully in Star Wars wrapping paper and passes it to me.

Dad doesn't say a word, and I set the gift in my lap, reading the tag aloud, “To Grace and Laura, from Mom and Dad.” Laura and I look at each other, and Laura squeezes my hand. I unwrap it and then open the box. Inside is single piece of paper. The words “We accept you, and we’re sorry”  were written on the paper.

My hand covers my mouth as I sniff slightly. “Thank you,” I whisper, looking at my parents. “Thank you.”

AN: This was written for the Sims Short Story Challenge. This month's theme was Gift and my word count is 1082 words with 7 screenshots

Let's Procrastinate!

100 more words. Just 100 more words.

It’s a chant, a mantra. It’s something that I am constantly repeating during the month of November. Because November is NaNoWriMo, and I am one of the many fools who believe that they are writers and then decide to prove that claim by writing an insane amount of words in just 30 days. What am I thinking?
100 more words. Just 100 more words

The first year, it was fairly easy. 15,000 words in 30 days was a daunting task to the thirteen year-old who took three years to write 15,000 words before than. So, in I plunged, and 25 days later, I achieved my goal. The tale I spun was still incomplete (It still is), but it was full of possibilities. The world was created by my own hands, and I found I could build even further after that month. My characters took over by 7,000 words, but later I found them shallow and two-dimensional. And so I rewrote them, expanded upon them, until I could tell you who they are.

100 more words. Just 100 more words.

The second year was a little rougher. 20,000 words was my goal this time. I decided to rewrite that book that took me three years to write 15,000 words of. My characters and plot were already there, this should have been a breeze. Instead, I found myself starting it at least five separate times, and my plot got thrown out the window when my main character informed me that she was a lesbian. Day 30, I wrote 5,000 words worth of initiation and membership rituals which repeated the same format throughout, so I kind of cheated. But the important thing was that I had succeeded in my goal.

100 more words. Just 100 more words.

Third year. I pledged to write 30,000 words. My story created an entirely new world separate from our own. Fairies of all kinds flittered through it, and I was excited to write this story. It ended up, not only being told from my main character’s point of view, but her foster father’s and sister’s as well. Then of school, life and procrastination got in the way, leaving me with 10,000 words to write on the last day. I succeeded. 11:38 PM on November 30, I won. 10,000 completely unique words were written that day, and I swore never to let that happen again.

100 more words. Just 100 more words.

Then, there’s this year. I have taken my story into the afterlife and investigated my image of Heaven as well as my feelings towards it. What resulted was a lonely, sarcastic main character who just wanted to do something other than sit there for eternity in a never-changing place. As I write this, I have seven days left. My goal is 40,000 words. I have written a grand total of 8,856 words. Hehe, oops. To be honest I blame school, and the fact that I am not motivated outside of school.

100 more words. Just 100 more words.

More like…

1,000 more words. Just 1,000 more words.

This was written for the Sims Short Story Challenge. The prompt was 100. Hopefully y'all enjoyed.
Word Count: 532
Screenshot Count: 12

End of an Era

We are gathered here today to remember Jamie Simons, a proud father, grandfather, and husband. Jamie was a drag queen with a unique genetic mutation to conceive and carry his own children. He moved to Newcrest with the goal of having a hundred of those children be born in his family, whether by him or by his heirs. He is succeeded by his seventeen children, fourteen grandchildren, thirteen great-grandchildren, and his husband.

The Simons' Family Tree

I Promise

This, this couldn’t be happening. It’s impossible. We were so careful. It’s just late, that’s all. It’s been six weeks. That’s not late…. It could still show up.

I took a deep breath, staring at myself in the mirror. Do you really believe that?

“Ida! You’re going to be late!”

I jerk slightly, glancing at the clock and finding to my horror that my mother was quite correct in her assessment. I bolted for the door, barely remembering my book-bag in my haste to catch the bus.

I spent the bus ride reading the assigned reading for my English class. When the bus finally pulled up to the school, a broad grin spread across my face when I saw the familiar leather jacket standing in the middle of a group of girls who had yet to get the message that Dean Winchester was mine and mine alone.

You do realize he moves a lot right? How many other girls thought that despite being short flings along his path? Shut up. He’s mine at the moment.

“Hey, Dean,” I said, giving him  a short kiss.

“Hello, Ida.” Dean smirked at me, cupping my face with his hand. He took my books from me, and together we walked to our first class, leaving the group of girls sighing in disappointment. All thoughts of being late vanished from my mind as I simply enjoyed being with Dean.

****

I put my head in my heads, still holding the test stick of doom. How am I going to explain this to my parents? How am I going to tell Dean? Told you so, but no, you had to pretend everything was sunshine and rainbows.

I took a deep breath, straightening up and looking at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. It’s okay. You’ve got this. You just need to walk out there, open your mouth, and tell them. Who knows, maybe they’ll be really excited to be grandparents. Sunshine and rainbows again.

I stepped out of the bathroom, lurking in the doorway that led to the kitchen and observing my parents calmly drink their morning coffee and read the morning paper. Stepping fully into the kitchen, I licked my lips nervously. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence. “You’re what?” my mother asked, eyebrows raised as she look at me questioningly over her coffee mug.

“I’m pregnant.”

“I’m sorry, I know you did not just say what I thought you said.” My father stood, a dark look on his face.

“I did though.” My voice seemed quiet, timid, even to my ears.

“I thought you were better than this, Ida!” I flinched away from my father’s roar. Told you so. Again. “You’ve ruined your life! Do you really believe that you’ll do well in school with a child on the way? What were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry, Dad,” I whimpered.

“Sorry’s not good enough!”

I turned and bolted for my room.

“And don’t think you’re going to keep it. Once it’s born, it’s gone!”

****

Dean was gone. He wasn’t at school today, or yesterday, or the day before that. He hadn’t been there for a few weeks now.

I stared at my phone for a long time before I finally, slowly, dialed the number that would set my baby’s fate in stone.

“Hello?”

“Dean? This is Ida.”

“Oh, hey, Ida.” Dean’s voice was awkward, proving what I had suspected. He had already moved on with his life.

“Look, I know you’ve probably moved on already, but there’s something you need to know.”

“What is it?”

“I’m pregnant with your baby.” I closed my eyes, waiting for the blow up.

“Shit.” Well, that was a pretty accurate representation of my mood. “Are you going to keep it?”

“I’m going to give birth, yes, but my parents won’t let me raise it. If you don’t take it, it’ll be placed for adoption or going into foster care.”

“Hang on a second.”

I waited. Five, ten minutes, listening to the muffled voices on the other end of the phone until Dean’s voice came back. “When are you due? We’ll pick the baby up when it’s born.”

I smiled despite the soft sob of relief and grief that escaped me. “About six months. Around the beginning of June, end of May.”

“I’ll be there.”

****

This was it. The first and last time I would ever see my daughter. My father was the one who took me to the hospital on the 3rd of June. He stood there, watching me say hello and goodbye to my daughter before he let Dean into the delivery room.

“That’s your daughter now. We don’t want to have anything to do with her after this moment. We’ve already filled out the paperwork. My father pointed at the bed where my daughter was sleeping in. “Take her and never come back.” He gave the two of us one last glare before he left us alone.

“Her name’s Autumn,” I whispered. “Take care of her. Please.” I looked up from my clasped hands and stared into Dean’s green hazel eyes.

“I will. I promise.”

Lots Used

• High School by c0rreen
• Tudor Bungalow by Maxis
• Motel Room by Raven_Cat2000 (Me)

This was written for September's Short Story Challenge Theme of Late. This was inspired by a Supernatural fanfiction idea of Dean having a pre-teen/teenage daughter during the series. Timeline wise this is set in about 1996 for the show. Anything recognizable as Supernatural belongs to the creators of Supernatural.