Tag Archives: Yes (band)

The Key (Flash Fiction)

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The door slammed making the adrenaline surge up my backbone, gripping me with instant fear. I knew he was in the house. I have to stay quiet or he will find me. I can hear him tromping around in his heavy boots. The cabinets and drawers open and close, as he searches for the key. I have it well hidden. He may find me, but he won’t find the key.

I’m in the clothes hamper in the back part of Mom’s closet. If I can be quiet he won’t find me. I may be seventeen years old, but I’m tiny. My family and friends call me Tinkerbell, or Tink for short. This is one of those times I appreciate being tiny. He wasn’t supposed to be back at the house until evening, so I thought I would be safe to get some of my clothes. Boy, was I wrong. I guess he is desperate to find the key to the safe deposit box.

I hear him in the room going through everything. My mama would be all right now if it hadn’t been for him. If I disappear, the key will go to John Houston at the Daily Journal. If only she hadn’t told him about her journal. This would’ve been much easier. I could’ve turned it over to the authorities and he would be none the wiser. I guess Mom thought she was getting back at him somehow by letting him know he wasn’t getting away with anything.

Last Saturday started out like every other Saturday, with Mom cooking us a great breakfast with all the trimmings. After he left the house, she began to talk to me. My brain couldn’t believe what she told me about Jack, her husband of ten years. I remember very little of my father, so Jack, for all intent and purpose, was my dad, which made all of it harder to accept.

Jack’s having an affair, according to Mom. It’s been going on for almost a year. Mom chooses to overlook it for some reason that I will never know. It may have been because of Jack carrying Mom and me on his insurance.  I’ve heard enough to know how tough it is when you don’t have medical insurance. If she confronted him, I never knew about it. I don’t know if I could accept that behavior.

Mom developed Diabetes about three years ago and used insulin daily. She did a finger stick four times a day. Her sugars were very erratic. The insulin she used changed with every test. She used sixty-four units of NPH insulin every morning and Regular before meals and at bedtime. She adjusted it as needed . She said her sugars were like a bouncing ball, and she never knew what direction it was going to go.

This morning I didn’t go to school. Jack left for work, as usual. Mom was late getting up. She didn’t look like she felt good. She told me she was very nervous on the inside and needed some orange juice before she checked her sugar.

I went back to my room to find clothes to put on. I heard the front door open and Jack yelled at mom letting her know he was home. He went into the kitchen, because I heard them arguing over mom’s journal. “I want that damn key, Janice,” Jack yelled.

Mom yelled back. “You aren’t getting it. I must have protection, and that journal is it. You thought you were so damn smart, but now you know if something happens to me you are dead meat.” I walked down the hall being careful not to make any noise, so I could see and  listen to what was going on.

“You bitch; do you really think that little book will protect you?”

“Sure I do. It tells about your affair. Where you have hidden all of the money you embezzled from the company. It contains all of your dirty little secrets. You take care of me and you stay safe. If not, then you’ll be in prison for the rest of your life. It’s your choice. Leave me alone so I can get me some orange juice to drink. I can feel my blood sugar dropping. You know what is going to happen if I don’t get me some juice.”

A big smile spread across Jack’s face as he said, “Yes, I sure do. In fact, let’s walk to the living room. That might help it drop faster.”

“This is the day you get your payback. You think you can screw with me. You and no one else will get away with blackmailing me. It’s a shame that little crap daughter of yours is in school or I could take care of her at the same time. I will play the loving father until I find that key. Once the key is found, Tink will have an accident.”

I knew I had to find some place to hide. He moved her into the living room so I couldn’t go out the front door. That’s how I ended up in this hamper, barely breathing, unable to move. Mom has a narrow deep closet. Maybe he won’t discover me.
I heard him enter the bedroom and he continued going through the drawers. He came into the closet and searched through the boxes on the shelf. God please put your protection around mama and me. The phone began ringing causing Jack to stop searching. I guess he was trying to decide whether to answer the phone. He didn’t, and within a couple of minutes he was out the door.

I climbed out of the hamper and headed to the living room to check on Mama. She wasn’t breathing well, and didn’t respond. I called 911 knowing I was saving her and me both. Jack is about to answer for his actions.

*******

I wish to thank you for the kind words and support given to me because of my father’s death. I can’t express my gratitude enough.

Good Intentions, bad results

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A bottle of peanut oil.

Image via Wikipedia

How many of us has done something you thought would be so nice and work out wonderfully.  Today, I am posting a short story about a woman with good intentions.    You never know what will happen in this life.  Every action as a reaction.  I hope you enjoy the story.

Good intentions Bad Results

The Road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Friday, April 16, 2010 is a red-letter day.  I have a new job, I live in my own condominium, my health is good, and my family loves me.  I have so many blessings I cannot list them all.

I have a boyfriend, Andy Wilson.  He is such a loving person.  He makes me happy. I keep a smile on my face when I am with him.  I am falling in love, and I never want it to end.  He’s a man who has everything. He is wonderful, happy, smart, rich, educated; handsome beyond words, and is still single.

The doorbell is ringing. I slowly cross the floor and open the door.  “Come in, Andy”.

“Wow, you look wonderful”.  He grabs me, pulls me towards him, and kisses me.

“Dinner will be in about ten minutes, relax for a few minutes.”

“Dinner is served, sir.  We have a standing rib roast, mashed potatoes, Sautéed asparagus’, honey sweetened baby carrots and yeast rolls.  I made fresh strawberry short-cake for dessert.”

“This is wonderful and I don’t want it to end.  Would you care to dance?” Andy asks.  We dance as my mind keeps telling me; this is too good to be true.

“Paula, I don’t feel well.  My throat feels a little tight.”

“Sit down on the couch. Would you like a glass of water”?  His face was beginning to swell, especially around his mouth.

“Andy, I need to call an ambulance for you.  You are beginning to scare me”.  I called 911, gave them the address and went to Andy.

His respirations are fast, and he is starting to squeak when he exhaled. “What is happening to you”, I asked.  He couldn’t answer me.   My mind is screaming, where are they, it is taking too long.  I can hear the sirens. “They are almost here, Andy.  Hold on honey, please hold on.”

I follow the ambulance to the hospital.  It seems I waited forever, and then the door opens and a nurse in scrubs comes to me, and asks if I am the person with Andy Wilson.

Yes, I’m his girlfriend”.

She took my hand, ”I’m so sorry, but we couldn’t save him.”  My world went cold and black.

Andy died from anaphylactic shock.  It turns out he was highly allergic to peanuts.  I kept running our dinner repeatedly through my mind.  Where could he have gotten peanuts with our dinner?

I went to the pantry to get down my oatmeal.  My eyes scanned the shelves; I notice two bottles of oil sitting next to each other.  One was a light corn oil and the other was, the other was, oh my god, it’s peanut oil.  Now I know, I killed my Andy with good intentions.