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atreegrowsinnorthnywrites · 4 months

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Part 3 of 3

Part one is here, and part two is here. Let me know what y'all think!

The woods were eerie in November. The nearly leafless trees twisting and leering over the overgrown trail. The unsettling quiet of all the birds that had flown south and the animals burrowing for the oncoming winter. The squish of the not quite frozen mud beneath their feet.

Eerie, but familiar.

Dad’s deer stand was still in the largest oak just off the south trail that led away from the cabin. They passed the bog they used to launch clay pigeons over, likely still littered with the blaze orange ceramic pieces. The fairy garden mom had built alongside a hilly embankment was still there; the little figurines poking through the plethora of weeds that ensnared them. Off the north trail would be a steady stream where Roman had once taught Talia to catch frogs, and on the west side, the thick forest opened up to a field scattered with pine trees they would pick from for a Christmas tree every year. Every year until mom died.

“I should have taken your advice on the boots.” Will lifted a sneaker caked in thick, clay mud.

Talia laughed, glancing down at her equally dirty ankle boots. Selene had wisely traded her heels for tall brand-name rubber boots before they had embarked. Her and Charlotte walked a few yards in front of them, hand-in-hand. A giggle passed between and Talia’s heart tugged. “I missed so much this last year,” she murmured.

Will wordlessly took her hand.

“Let’s go this way!” Charlotte’s voice sang through the woods as they approached a fork. Talia’s stomach lurched as she saw her pull Selene’s hand to the right.

Her pace quickened and she dropped Will’s hand to catch up to them. “Char, let’s go the other way. I can’t remember how that trail gets back to the cabin.”

“I remember,” Selene offered and Talia shot her a glare.

“No, Auntie Tee. This way!” Charlotte insisted. She stomped off to the right where a wooden bridge had been built over a low lying stream that fed into the pond. “There’s a tree house over here.”

Talia froze. “What do you mean?”

Selene turned on her heel. “What do you mean? You know the old fort is down this way.”

“I-” Talia shook her head. It couldn’t be. There was no way. “When did you see the fort, Char?”

Charlotte paused on the wooden bridge, looking back to them. “This summer with my daddy. We came out here to play.”

“This summer?” Talia repeated.

“Should we start keeping a log when we visit the land now that it’s yours?” Selene drawled. Talia did not even have the heart to argue. It couldn’t be. Charlotte must remember wrong. She must have come out here years before. “You’re being weird,” her sister added.

“I didn’t think the fort was there anymore,” Talia managed to reply.

“Well let’s go see, shall we?” Selene moved to follow Charlotte.

Talia hesitated and Will stepped around her. “Can’t hurt to see if it’s there, right?”

She put one foot in front of the other. Over the logs of the wooden bridge and then into the sea of cattails that followed it. She could swear the wind stilled as they trudged through the wet, recently trodden down path. Too recently.

A squeal sounded from the front of the line. “The tree house!” Charlotte cried from the front of the line. Talia’s heart was racing. She pushed forward, nearly running into Will when she saw what her niece had referred to in the distance.

The massive wood fort started at ground level with a primitive play-house structure and then, by way of planks and ladders, climbed up to a set of tree houses with a drawbridge between them. It was an incredible play fort; built by her grandparents and rebuilt by her parents. A fort that Talia had once ensured was gone forever.

But here it was, entirely intact.

Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. Charlotte bounded into the ground floor structure through the swinging wood door with peeling red paint. “Careful Char,” Selene called to her. “There might be critters or rotten wood.”

Talia numbly approached, Will beside her. He nudged her. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “It…it shouldn’t be here.”

“It is a little shocking how well it held up,” Selene agreed. Talia tore her eyes away from the treehouses to find they stood next to her sister. “You would think wood rot would have set in.”

“It was all destroyed,” Talia murmured.

Selene raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

It had been in pieces. The drawbridge snapped. The walls of the playhouse were caved in. The rotting floors of the treehouses had collapsed. The ladder had been broken. The rope swing cut. Talia watched as Charlotte dashed out of the ground structure and to the closest ladder. “Charlotte. Don’t.”

“Here, kiddo,” Will said easily, walking to her. “Let me check that before you climb it.”

Charlotte exhaled a whiney moan, but abandoned her attempt to climb. She meandered away to see what else she could play with on the ground. The uneasy feeling continued to creep up Talia’s spine, enveloping her like a blanket, tightening around her throat.

Will stepped onto the first rung of the ladder, and then the second. Selene sauntered to the red door of the playhouse, testing its rusty hinges. Talia saw Charlotte’s blonde hair disappear behind the large oak that held the second section of the tree house.

“Char?” she called, her voice unsteady.

“She’s fine, Tee. Relax. You used to play out here alone all the time.”

Exactly.

Talia fought her instinct to turn and run, pushing through the knee length grass that surrounded the fort to get a better view of her niece. She stepped around the painted playhouse, and caught sight of the thick brown rope swing that hung from the largest branch of the oak tree. A laugh escaped her niece as she climbed on to the lowest knot of the rope and kicked off to sail through the air. Talia’s heart pounded in her chest.

“Char…” The rope swung like a pendulum. “Get off of there…” Another laugh bellowed from Charlotte as she swung into view and then out of sight again.

The laughing stopped.

The rope swung back into Talia’s view.

Empty.

“CHARLOTTE!” Talia sprinted the last stretch of distance to the oak. The rope was still swinging and her niece was nowhere in sight. Bile rose in her throat.

“What?!” Selene exclaimed, the noise of her boots swishing through the grass behind Talia. “What? Where is she?”

A memory hit Talia with the force of a train.

An unseasonably warm fall afternoon. Playing pirates alone as she bounded across the drawbridge from one treehouse to the other. The rope swing would make the perfect plank over the sea. She had reached for it from the lofted treehouse and swung with glee. Once. Twice.

Talia trembled as the rope swing slowed its methodic swaying. She heard Will approaching now as Selene continued to pepper her with questions. Time was running out.

“What the fuck?” Selene spun around wildly. “Where did she go? She was right here!”

“I’ll look down the hill,” Will offered, jogging down the small mound the rope swing was positioned over.

Talia reached for the rope numbly, clambering onto the knot Charlotte had been seated on moments before. She could not leave her alone. Not like how she was left.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Selene exclaimed. But Talia ignored her. She kicked her feet off and swung.

“Talia!”

The rope swung once. She closed her eyes.

“Help us look-”

Twice.

“Tal-”

And then she was falling. Selene’s words swallowed up in the rush of wind sailing past her ears. The breath was stolen from her lungs and her eyes watered. The falling sensation slowed just before she collided with the ground.

Talia rolled to her side with a groan, blinking her eyes open.

She laid on a floor of vibrant green moss. Sunlight filtered down through a canopy of spindly, leafy trees above her, and it was…warm. Her back had taken most of the landing and it protested as she pulled herself to sitting. Birds sang, and a flash of light and translucent wings whistled past.

“Charlotte,” she whispered, wonder replaced with panic. She scrambled to stand. “CHARLOTTE!”

The occupants of the forest answered. A bird cawed, another warm-colored, winged insect zoomed past. Her nine year old niece was nowhere in sight. And neither was Will or Selene.

Talia circled the spot she stood, a flood of memories breaking through the dam she had sealed nearly a decade before. As if being here had been the key to remembering all along. How far could she have gotten? Which direction would she have walked? She could not go back without her niece. Her siblings hated her enough.

But she had little time to strategize, to assess which way to start searching, when a scream sounded just behind her. Talia whipped around to find blonde haired Selene on the ground, pushed up on her elbows, her eyes wide.

“Selene?” she said tentatively. How the hell had her sister come through. It had never worked. Not when Talia had gone back time and time again.

Her sister startled at the sight of Talia, at the forest around them, scrambling backwards to stand. “What…the…f-”

A third body appeared in mid-air. Like a rip in the fabric of the forest had been opened with a knife and then sealed back shut again. Talia caught a glimpse of a dark green pine, so at odds with the trees around them, before the rip resealed, and Will struck the ground between them.

“Holy hell,” he grunted. Will rubbed at his shoulder that had struck a mossy rock as he sat up. Talia knelt to extend a hand towards him. He gave her a strange, lingering look before he accepted her hand.

“Explain,” Selene hissed through gritted teeth. She marched towards Talia, a finger extended.

“How did you…?” Talia looked between her sister and boyfriend, her mouth parting open.

“We followed you,” Selene shot back. “You were there one minute on that rope swing and then I saw you just freaking…disappear? Into some weird…what even…what is this!?”

Will’s hand retreated from her grasp once he was upright and his eyes asked the same question as Selene. Talia licked her lips. Her gaze roved around the forest again. They were in a small clearing between the thicket of trees. A stack of smooth river rocks, balancing precariously - unnaturally - sat just off to their left. She remembered. The rocks marked the way back, or in their case, the way in.

“Talia, I swear to God-”

“We’re in Emendrin.”

Selene froze.

“We’re in…what?” Will said, his dark eyebrows furrowing. He looked ready to commit her to an asylum.

“Talia,” Selene whispered. “Do not joke about that.”

“Look around, Selene.” She waved an exaggerated hand. The old trees seemed to glitter and whisper with her gesture, a warm wind passing them. One of the winged insects lingered in front of Will’s face and he stepped back but from its ethereal yellow hue. “This is not the land.”

“What is Emme-drone?” Will repeated. “Where is your niece?”

Selene’s breaths were coming faster and Talia felt equally nauseous.

“Mom’s fairy tales,” Selene murmured. “That she told as kids…”

Will frowned.

“They’re not made up, Sel,” she replied. “It’s all here. I’ve been here. And now Charlotte is somewhere…in Emendrin.”

“When you got lost as a kid…” Talia nodded before her sister could finish. Selene looked on the verge of a panic attack. Her face had gone stark white. She reached for her, but Selene stumbled backwards in alarm.

A horn blew in the distance. All three of them turned to the noise.

“What was that?” Will whispered, stepping towards Talia.

She went to answer him with her best guess and then hands wrapped around her mouth and her vision went black.

#writing community #writeblr #creative writing #fantasy #contemporary fantasy #ya fantasy #writing ideas #fantasy fiction #through the wardrobe sort of #except through the rope swing #I HAVE IDEAS

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atreegrowsinnorthnywrites · 4 months

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Part Two

Part one is here. I'll be sharing one more part to reach the hook I've had in my head for a week. If you're reading - thanks!

Talia had been put on fire duty with Roman, Kyle, and Will. She had no complaints as her sisters and sister-in-law made their way inside the cabin to assess the state of the bedrooms and kitchen. The farther she could be from Selene, the better.

A nagging feeling still chewed at her as she half-heartedly collected branches for kindling. She kept glancing to the cabin, a strange, possessive feeling overcoming her as she wondered what they were combing through or throwing out. Selene was right about what thing. It was hers. Whether she understood why or not. The cabin, the land. It had always been Talia’s. The same way it had always been her mother’s and her grandmother’s before that.

She let her feet carry her down the hillside to the edge of the pond. It was so quiet this time of year. No buzzing mosquitoes. No noisy birds. November’s cloudy, midday gloom hid the pond’s secret: its sparkling, surprisingly clear waters. There was no dock, so as kids they had been forced to walk through the squelching, weedy mud or rope swing their way into the water.

Talia’s breath caught in her throat.

The fraying, knotted rope directly in front of the cabin swung in the breeze. A memory flashed across her mind. Another rope swing. The wood fort built into the trees. She reached for her necklace. She ran a thumb over the insignia she had studied so many times she had lost count. Surrounding it was a circle of text in a language even Will’s linguistics roommate could not place.

She shook her head, brushing away the thought of the rope swings and the fort. It was not there anymore. None of it was there. She had made sure of that at seventeen.

“Talia?” Will’s voice drifted down the hill and across the water.

“Down here,” she called back up to him. She trudged back towards him, her arms full of small branches. Will met her halfway.

“Roman’s demanding the kindling,” he said with a smirk, then stopped short at the look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She forced a smile.

“This is a lot, alright? It is okay if you are not fine.” How many times had he said that to her in the last nine months since her dad’s death. How many times had he comforted her despite her trying to push him away, too. Her face must have revealed something, must have cracked, because he was hugging her again. She let her head rest on his shoulder.

“I really don’t deserve someone as nice as you,” she murmured.

“Don’t say that.” He pinched her side, and she shrieked into his shoulder. “But if you don’t get this stack of little branches over to your brother, he might not be so nice.”

“You think Roman is nice?” She pulled back from his hug with a frown, meeting his honey colored eyes.

“He’s nicer than your sisters?” Will quipped. She could not argue with that.

“If you two teenagers could stop making out and bring me the kindling?” Roman drawled from atop the hillside.

Talia rolled her eyes.

They returned to the fire, depositing the kindling where Roman instructed. Within minutes, a fire was roaring to life. Hamburgers and hot dogs were produced from coolers. Buns, condiments, and sides were lined up along the porch. Sour cream and onion chips - mom’s favorite - were opened. Camp chairs for all were pulled from Roman’s truck. And it wasn’t long before everyone was seated around the fire, plates of food in hand.

“Do you remember Selene’s eleventh birthday out here?” Roman asked Rhea between bites of his hamburger, fighting back laughter.

“You mean when you scared the piss out of my friends when they were walking to the outhouse?” Selene said with a roll of her eyes. Talia, being two years old, did not remember this story.

Roman set down his burger, tears of laughter leaking from his eyes. “Literally,” he gasped. “One of them peed their pants.”

Selene chucked a piece of hot dog bun at him.

“What about the time mom actually went hunting with the guys,” Rhea said with a wistful smile.

This one, Talia remembered. “Didn’t she shoo away a giant buck when it approached the deer stand?” Talia had only been seven or eight, but she remembered her mom’s guilty expression when they had returned to the cabin.

“YES!” Roman exclaimed, still laughing too hard to eat. “Dad was so mad. Mom had apparently decided she did not want to know where her food came from.”

A chorus of laughter around the fire followed. So many memories had been made on this land, in the very circle around the fire they sat. Talia looked around as the laughter died and saw all her siblings lost in thought, too. Will gave her foot a nudge and she returned it with a small smile.

“What about when Talia got lost out here?” Selene said with a chuckle.

Talia’s smile disappeared.

“You got lost on the land?” Will asked, looking amused.

“Oh yeah,” Roman agreed, diving back into his burger. “God, Tee. How old were you? That was actually kind of crazy.”

She forgot to breathe, her chest tightened.

“I think she was Char’s age,” Rhea mused. “It was an entire afternoon. Like four hours or something. We were all losing it.”

“Yeah dad called the police, remember?”

Breathe. Breathe.

“Mom was so pissed that he did. They found her a few minutes after calling.”

“Hey,” Will murmured, leaning towards her. “You alright?”

Talia stood up. Her plate balancing on the camp chair fell to the ground and sent chips flying.

“Woah,” Kyle exclaimed to her left.

“I need water,” Talia murmured. She walked away from the fire and towards their SUV. When she reached the trunk, she leaned against it with an exhale and closed her eyes. Breathe. Just breathe. Footsteps approached and she braced herself for Will’s barrage of questions.

“Did I hit a nerve?”

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of Selene’s voice. She straightened. “Uh, no. You didn’t.”

“Really.” Selene crossed her arms.

“I just don’t really remember that day, Sel.” The truth. She threw up her hands in exasperation. “All I remember is how mad dad was at me.”

“He wasn’t mad at you.” Selene sighed, looking down the empty driveway. Talia waited for her to go on. “I remember it vividly, you know. We looked for you for hours.” A pang of discomfort hit Talia in the gut. “We had even asked the neighbors down the road for help. When we got back to the cabin after searching, mom and dad were screaming at each other. Right there.” She gestured to the empty gravel a few feet from them. “It was the biggest fight I have ever seen them have. Dad was insistent we needed to call the police, but mom refused. She kept saying you’d show up. She’ll show up, David.”

Talia gave a half-shrug. “Well, mom was right.”

“You know we found you at that old fort,” Selene added.

Talia stiffened.

“Mom found you just wandering around it, acting oblivious. We had all searched by the fort. We knew you were always playing up there. I had personally searched that area at least three times.”

“Obviously not well enough.”

A dry laugh escaped Selene. “Don’t be a bitch, Tee. Don’t you know that’s my job?”

“What is it you want me to say about a day I don’t remember, Selene?”

Her sister raised an eyebrow. Talia wrapped her arms around her chest, glancing back to the fire where Will was eyeing her with concern. A signal to him and she could get away from this conversation; get away from whatever line of inquiry Selene had planned.

“You are so much like her, you know.”

Talia’s hazel-green eyes flicked back to Selene. “Like who?”

“Mom.” Selene wasn’t smiling. “She handled hard things the same way you do. Avoided talking about it and isolated herself from everyone.”

Talia shook her head, looking past Selene and gesturing to Will. She was done with this bullshit. “A great story,” Talia replied finally, turning away from her sister to open the trunk. “Glad we could have this talk.”

“Wow. Really? You are one piece-”

“Ladies,” Will said tentatively as he stepped around Selene, his gaze rotating between them.

“I think it’s time for the wine.” Talia lifted a reusable grocery bag that clanged together as bottles bumped one another; a sleeve of red Solo cups in her other hand.

Selene eyed her offering warily. “Reds?”

“Obviously,” Talia replied. Will reached in and lifted up the most expensive bottle they had purchased. He held it with both hands like a sommelier.

Selene snatched it from Will’s grip. “This one’s mine.”

Will glanced at Talia as Selene stalked away and she shook her head. “Leave it. And don’t ask.”

Will produced a corkscrew from the bottom of the bag and began to unscrew the next bottle. As the cork came undone with a satisfying pop, he merely smiled. “All I was going to ask is…when?” Then he began to pour. The red cup was three-fourths full before Talia said when.

“We come bearing gifts,” Will said as they returned to the fire, wine and cups in hand. Talia plopped back into her seat and sipped her drink in silence. She glanced at Selene over the fire who was drinking directly from the bottle she had stolen. Lord, help them.

“Here we go!” Roman declared, standing up to help Will distribute drinks.

“A cup might be helpful,” Kyle said to Selene as he threw one in her lap.

“Aren’t you underage?” Rhea remarked, a perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised at Talia. “Or did I miss a birthday?”

“Oh lighten up,” Kyle muttered to his wife.

“She’s in college, Ray. She’s done a hell of a lot worse than had some wine,” Selene said, opting to actually use the cup she had been thrown.

“If it’s any consolation, I find it alarming that our kid sister can drink,” Roman said to Rhea as he sat back down. All the adults, except for her very pregnant sister-in-law, held cups of mom’s favorite wine.

“That’s because you still think of me as like eight years old,” Talia replied. She lifted her cup feigning cheers. “I’m twenty, remember?”

“How is that possible?” Selene muttered with a shiver. Another piece of her platinum blonde hair fell from her clip. “God I am so fucking old.” She tipped back her cup , eyeing the rest of the bottle at her feet.

“Thirty’s coming at ya fast, Sel,” Anna said to her with a wink and a raise of her sparkling water. “Four more months, right?”

Selene gave her the middle finger.

“Twenty is still not legal,” Rhea muttered under her breath as she took a sip of her wine. Will’s eyebrows knitted together. He looked ready to take back the cup he had just handed her oldest sister.

“Talia literally owns this cabin and the two hundred acres we’re standing on,” Kyle said with a dry laugh. “I think she can have a drink on it.”

A silence followed his words. An uncomfortable, heavy silence.

Who would have thought it would be her brother-in-law to rip off the band-aid.

“So I guess we’re talking about it then,” Selene observed, her cup to her mouth, her eyes on Talia. Everyone’s eyes were on her.

Even nine-year-old Charlotte, who had been plowing through a bag of chips while reading the chapter book Selene had gifted her, looked up with a frown. “Auntie Tee owns the cabin?” she asked. “I thought grandpa and grandma did.”

Will’s hand reached for Talia’s knee. I am here and got you, the gesture said.

“After grandpa died last year, they decided to give it to Talia,” Rhea said matter-of-factly. Resentment dripped from every word.

“God knows why,” Roman muttered, looking away from Talia and down into his drink.

“Maybe God and Talia know why?” Selene suggested with a devilish smile.

Talia took a drink of the dry, earthy red in her cup. She thought of mom; of her smile and her auburn red hair, even more striking than Talia’s own. She thought of her warm presence and the light she brought into every room she entered.

“Mom told me once that if I wanted the land, it was mine,” she said finally.

The fire crackled. Someone coughed.

“How old were you?” Roman asked. His voice was cold. “When she said that?”

“It was just before she-” Talia’s voice cracked. “My twelfth birthday.”

“Wow,” Selene exhaled with a slow nod. She tipped her cup back again, looking ready to drown in it.

“I am sorry mom and dad didn’t leave you guys an explanation, okay? I am sorry.” She cleared her throat, her voice growing. “But it was their choice; mom’s choice. I don’t understand why everyone is mad at me for a choice they made?”

“You didn’t even show up to the reading of the will,” Roman said with a shake of his head.

Talia gaped. “I had class? At a college two states away?”

“You didn’t bring dad to a single treatment,” Roman continued over her. He stared into the flames. “You didn’t help clean out their house or help sell it. You didn’t come home to go through their stuff. You didn’t show up at one, single get-together we’ve had since dad’s death. You waltzed in for the funeral and waltzed out.”

Talia’s heart was thundering in her chest.

“Roman-” Rhea’s voice.

“No, you never have to do the dirty work, Talia. You are always too young to deal with the tough shit. Little Talia can’t hear about the details of mom’s death-”

“For fuck’s sake, Roman,” Selene scolded.

“Little Talia can’t deal with dad’s treatment or his funeral arrangements. But sure, little Talia can be gifted a huge piece of our family-”

“That’s enough.” Will’s voice was sharp as it cut over Roman’s, his knuckles white as he gripped his cup. “Just stop. You’re not the only person who lost someone. Talia was-”

Talia placed her hand over Will’s hand on her knee. He stopped, and thankfully so had Roman. Her brother tipped back his rocking camp chair, draining the rest of his cup like it was water.

“It would never have passed to a man anyway,” Selene mumbled under her breath.

“What?” Roman shot back. “The land,” Selene looked around the fire. She shrugged. “It was in our great-grandmother’s name, and then our grandma’s, and then mom’s, and now Talia’s. You can be pissed about all that other stuff, Ro, but no man was ever inheriting this land. Mom was first and foremost, a feminist.” “Is that true?” He directed the question to Rhea.

She frowned. “I guess? Mom had two brothers. Grandma had like seven other siblings. It’s always been a woman on the deed.”

“Then it should be yours,” Roman said, his eyes darkening. “You're the oldest daughter.”

Rhea waved a hand towards Talia. “Did you miss the part where mom told her the land was hers?”

“Who’s to say that’s even true?”

“Fuck you, Roman.” The words left Talia’s mouth before she could stop herself. Her brother at least had the decency to look shocked. This was as bad as she had anticipated. Maybe even worse.

“That was low,” Selene muttered to their brother, “even for you.”

“I’m going for a walk,” Talia announced, launching upward and abandoning her drink. Her pony of auburn hair swinging as she walked away. Will rose from his own chair, opting to keep a tight grip on his cup.

“I wanna go!” Charlotte exclaimed.

“No,” Rhea and Kyle said simultaneously.

“I’m happy to keep an eye on her,” Will offered. Talia paused mid-step. What, he mouthed.

“Awh, Will. You’re too sweet.” Selene grinned, and everyone prepared themselves. “I’ll join, too.”

"Yay!" Charlotte cried.

Talia massaged her temple.

“We’ll keep a close eye on Char,” Selene promised Rhea, slinging an arm around their niece. She winked at Talia. “Try as you might little sister, you can’t avoid your siblings or confrontation today. We should be together on mom's birthday."

“Fantastic,” Talia muttered to Will as he handed her a jacket.

The four of them started down the trail closest to the fire.

#writeblr #creative writing #fiction writing #writing community #contemporary fiction #fantasy fiction #writers of tumblr #writing ideas

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atreegrowsinnorthnywrites · 4 months

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The idea came to me this week and I can't get out of my head, and I thought why not share. Not heavily edited. Just vibes so far!

The tires of the small SUV crunched over the rocky, overgrown driveway. Talia rolled down the passenger window as birch and pine trees ambled past her line of vision. The earthy smell of moss and bark and dead foliage on the forest floor hit her nose. The first snow was still a few weeks off, and the trees desperately clung to their remaining leaves. The land, as they all called it, looked exactly the same.

“You doing okay?” Will murmured from the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel the other extended towards her. She glanced back at him, at the trace of concern in his honey brown eyes, and nodded. She took his hand.

It had been three years.

Three years since she had been here. Before dad died. Before he had gotten so bad. Before he was even diagnosed. Before college or her carefree senior year. She had made the drive at seventeen, alone, in her rusty Toyota Corolla that Selene and Roman had driven years before her. One last visit before she applied to college; one last trip to say goodbye. Her dad had stopped coming out to the land long before that. So had her siblings.

The land was mom’s. Everything about it reminded them of mom. Especially the weathering cabin they approached.

The roof of the cabin was covered in leaves, pine needles, and various debris. The logs of the cabin’s exterior had seen better days. They had been restored and treated when her parents had originally inherited the land, but northern Minnesota’s winters had battered them down again. The front porch leaned to the right, wood rot likely decimating the stairs and boards of the addition built before she had even been born. The cabin needed more than a bit of work.

The cabin that was now Talia’s.

Will’s vehicle came to a stop. Her free hand instinctively reached for the gold necklace at her chest sitting on top of her khaki turtleneck.

“Do you want a minute alone first?” Will asked, his voice soft. She was still holding tight to his hand and she squeezed it in reply, dropping the necklace. His sharp jawline flexed. He wanted to say more, but he stopped himself. He leaned towards her, his tousled, sandy blonde hair falling over his forehead.

Talia met him the rest of the way, pressing a kiss to his soft lips. “No,” she whispered against his lips. “I want you to see it.”

They broke apart. Will offered an encouraging smile and Talia opened the passenger door.

She hopped down and swore as her brown ankle boots met a puddle. Muddy water splashed her blue jeans. She could almost hear her mom’s laugh in the light breeze. Wearing one-hundred-and-fifty dollar boots out here on the land. All the weekends of her childhood spent at the land had included rain boots or hand-me-down hiking boots with long socks tucked over pants. For the mud, for the ticks, for the snow. Never anything she wanted to stay clean.

Will gave her a wry smile as he came around the front of the vehicle, side-stepping another puddle with his worn sneakers. In a hooded navy sweatshirt bearing their college mascot (Go Otters!) and gray joggers, he looked delicious.

It was hard not to feel lucky around him. Their chance meeting at the one party she had attended the last day of her freshman year of college. The summer that followed where they talked on the phone every single day in between their summer jobs. Then the first day of sophomore year when he had shown up to help her move into her new apartment. They had locked eyes across the lawn of the house she would be sharing with five other girls. He had approached her, eyes blazing, and kissed her in the door frame to shouts and cheers from her friends’ families. Over a year later and it still felt that good. Will was the steady in the storm of the last year of her life.

Talia tightened the ponytail containing her thick, auburn hair, and took a steady inhale. Will’s arm slipped around her. She leaned into it, the comfort of his presence, and they approached the cabin that held a million memories. Vines snaked up the columns of the porch and across the roof. The forest reclaiming what their family had given up.

Just before they reached the front steps, Talia tugged Will to the right. She waved a hand down the sloping, wooden hill behind the cabin. There was once a clear view to the pond nestled below, but the woods had gobbled that up too. The waters were still visible through the pines, lapping against the weedy shores in the breeze.

“You failed to mention you inherited a lake,” Will said with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s a pond,” she corrected. “For tax purposes, anyway.”

He snorted.

She bit down on a smile. The trees that lined the pond were still at full peak, their bright orange and red leaves encircling the pond and holding on to the last bit of autumn.

She led Will back to the porch. Up the creaking stairs that definitely needed some maintenance, and to the century old wooden door with a modern lock. She grabbed the key from her pocket - the one that had been mailed to her by her parents' lawyer, since she had been states away when their will was read - and unlocked the cabin.

The door creaked open. Musty air greeted them. An ache hit Talia’s chest at the familiar, mismatched couches and chairs arranged around the wood stove in the living area. A cookstove, cabinets, and a makeshift sink were tucked into the back left corner of the room. A tall shelf brimming with books and games was just to their left. Afghans and spare blankets would be piled haphazardly in the cabinet along the far wall next to the hallway. A wooden ladder cut the room in half to reach the loft above.

Nothing had changed. No. Everything had changed. Only the cabin had not.

She could still picture her parents here so clearly. Her mom and her fiery red hair would be sprawled across the couch, a hand around one of her four kids, peering over their cards sneakily. She would throw her head back when she was caught cheating, her lips stained from the red wines she indulged in at the cabin. Her dad would have been in motion. Dishing out second-helpings, grabbing another round of beverages, tending to the fire.

But they were gone.

The cabin was empty; silent.

“This is…this it it,” she said unsteadily, working to find her voice. Will had been quiet. Waiting. “There are two bedrooms in the back. Kitchen.” She gestured to the corner. “The loft is where us kids would always sleep. There’s some storage up there, too.”

Will nodded, taking it all in. “This is a great space. Needs a little love, but not bad at all.” He walked deeper into the living area, peering down the small hallway. Talia wrapped her arms around herself as he explored. The memories were pressing in on her. “What about the bathroom?” Will said as he returned from his quick jaunt down the hall.

Talia pulled herself out of her thoughts with a smirk. She stepped towards the window on the left wall and pointed to the small, outlying building down an overgrown path. Will laughed aloud.

“An outhouse. Really?”

“Really,” she echoed. “My parents talked about adding running water, but we’re in the middle of nowhere. They couldn’t afford it. Getting electricity out here was expensive enough.”

Above the sink, a mirror still hung where they used to all take turns brushing their teeth and fighting to get ready. Talia blinked at her reflection, at her hazel eyes, more green than brown. At her full lips and rosy cheeks from the cold. At the bags under her eyes and the smattering of blemishes that had appeared this week thanks to her cycle and the stress over this visit.

Will came up behind her, his arms wrapping around her shoulders as he met her gaze in the mirror. “You’re anxious.”

“I-” It was no use lying. “Yeah, I am.”

“You still think your siblings will be pissed?” Will hedged.

“Oh, I know they are pissed.” Talia spun around to face Will. “Wouldn’t you be?”

“You mean, if my kid brother was handed 200 acres and a cabin in my parent’s will and there had not even been a note for me explaining why...” Talia blinked. Exactly that. How the hell could her parents have done this without an explanation for her siblings. Will grimaced. “I mean, I'd be a little pissed.”

Talia swatted at him and he chuckled. He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering. They brushed across her cheek next, trailing downwards. “Can I help you relax?”

Her cheeks warmed. “My siblings will be here any minute.”

Will pulled down her turtleneck and pressed his lips to her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed. “I can be really, really fast,” he murmured. He came back up to her lips and she sighed into him, as his tongue swiped across her lips for access to her mouth.

“Not too fast,” she muttered, and he laughed. He reached for the bottom of her sweater, and she debated which bedroom would likely be the least filled with dead moths. As he began to tug it over her head, they heard the crunch of tires in the driveway.

“The cavalry has arrived,” Talia said. Will groaned, and she stifled a laugh as they separated. The car came to a stop outside. A pit of anxiety clawed its way into her gut. She adjusted her sweater, ignoring the lingering flush of her cheeks. She laced her fingers through Will’s. “Here we go.”

“I feel like we’re headed into battle,” he said under his breath as she led him out onto the porch. A brunette with oversized sunglasses stepped out of a Land Rover, frowning up at the cabin. Frowning up at Talia.

“We are,” she muttered back as her eldest sister Rhea came around her vehicle.

“I wondered whose SUV that was,” Rhea said without so much as a hello. She donned leggings, a puffy coat, and knee-high rain boots. The passenger door opened and her husband, Kyle, stepped out in a similar ensemble.

“Hey Rhea,” Talia said with a small smile leading Will down the rickety stairs.

“Hey, kid,” Rhea replied, taking off her sunglasses. Talia dropped Will’s hand and stepped into an extremely uncomfortable, stiff hug. Thirteen years older, and always happy to remind Talia of the fact, her eldest sister had an unreadable expression as they let go. “You got the key, then?”

Obviously.

“Yeah. The lawyer sent it.”

“Good, good.”

Talia swallowed. “You remember Will?” She gave him a reassuring smile. But he was the epitome of ease as he offered Rhea his hand and a winning smile.

“We’ve met before, but the circumstances-”

“Our dad’s funeral, you mean.”

“Jesus, Rhea.” Talia looked up to the sky.

“Well it’s nice to see you again,” Will added, appearing unaffected by Rhea’s jarring presence.

“Kyle,” Talia greeted Rhea’s husband who came around the Land Rover with arms extended for a hug.

“Hey kid,” he echoed the family pet name. When he stepped back he was giving her a pitiful, almost sympathetic smile. “Been awhile.”

“AUNTIE TEE?” A shriek from inside the car was followed by the backdoor being thrown open. A nine year old with a head of white blonde hair bounded to Talia and threw her arms around her. Talia pressed her face into her niece, Charlotte’s, hair, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“I missed you, bud,” Talia said, returning the squeeze just as tight. She watched Will and Kyle reintroduce themselves out of the corner of her eye while Rhea watched the reunion of Talia and her daughter. She was closer in age to her niece than her eldest sister, and their relationship had mirrored that.

“Why didn’t you come to our Fourth of July party?” Charlotte demanded suddenly, hands on her hips. Talia glanced up to Rhea whose mouth was now in a tight line. The annual party Rhea had put on since she purchased her first home seven years ago. The first of which Talia had not attended.

“I am so sorry I missed it.” She looked from Charlotte to Rhea. “You know I stayed in Michigan for the summer. I meant to explain-”

Rhea waved away her apology. “Forget it.”

“Rhea.”

But her sister ignored her plea. “Roman was right behind us-” She stopped at the sound of a diesel truck roaring up the driveway. “Ah. There he is.”

Will had returned to Talia’s side, a hand returning to her waist. She had forced him into the lion’s den and it seemed the way he was coping was by keeping her within reach. Fair enough. The truck came to a stop and out hopped her only brother, Roman. Rhea’s twin. The same warm brunette hair. The same hazel eyes all the siblings had, though the twins were more brown than Talia’s green. He wore a flannel, a black vest, and jeans. He grinned at the sight of Talia.

“Hey little sister.”

She walked over with a smile, unsurprised when he lifted her into the air with a tight, airless hug. “Ow,” she complained, swatting at his shoulder and he set her back down.

“Will, Roman. Roman, this is-”

“I remember the handsome college boyfriend,” Roman interrupted as they shook hands.

Will dazzled with another smile. “Nice to see you again man.”

Talia’s attention was drawn to Roman’s very pregnant wife, Anna, who had somehow managed to get out of the towering truck and waddle over. “Talia,” Anna beamed at her. Another round of hugs and introductions followed. “Atlas, you remember Auntie Tee?”

Her three year old nephew cowered behind his dad who had pulled him out of the carseat in the backseat. “Hey Attie,” Talia said, dropping to his level, but the boy would not approach. Why would he when she had barely seen him over the last two years of his life. It stung. The truth of isolating herself; of avoiding them.

She straightened back up to find Will in a deep conversation with Charlotte about the iPad game she was playing. Kyle was embracing Anna. Roman and Rhea simply observed her.

“It’s good to see you guys,” she said, challenging her elder siblings stares. She could not wait to see who would bring it up first.

“It’s good to see you, little sister,” Roman agreed. “We missed you this summer at the fourth.”

“And at Charlotte’s recital and Selene’s housewarming,” Rhea added.

Talia exhaled. “College has been busy.”

“Right,” Rhea said stiffly.

Roman looked between them, and wisely changed the topic. “So how late do we think Selene will be? Anyone wanna place bets?”

“My bet is on an hour,” Kyle called over as he opened the back of his Land Rover.

“Be nice,” Anna chastised. Will met Talia’s gaze across the driveway with a raised brow. She had warned him about all three of her siblings, but the biggest warning would always and forever be in the form of Selene. As if speaking her name could call her presence, the sound of ridiculously loud music echoed off the trees around the clearing.

“On time for once,” Rhea observed as a compact sedan barreled down the rocky driveway and came to a screeching stop, dance music blaring. A flock of birds scattered.

“You should turn it up!” Roman yelled as Selene put the car in park, gesturing to his ears. “I don’t think the neighbors ten miles down the road can hear you!” The music cut and the last of the four siblings stepped out of the car with her middle finger raised at Roman.

Behind them, a cough from Kyle sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

With sleeves of tattoos on both arms, bleach blonde hair, and a nose ring, Selene was all her own. She was wearing heels. Heels. Along with black skinny jeans, a white t-shirt, and a blazer. An obnoxious ski jacket was tucked under her arm.

“Hey family,” Selene smiled as she sauntered towards them. “And Talia’s boyfriend.”

“Nice to see you again, Selene,” Will said, returning to Talia’s side, a strategic hand placed on the low of her back.

“You don’t have to lie.” Selene winked. Another cough laugh followed, this time from Anna. At least the in-laws were enjoying themselves. “Talia.”

“Selene,” she replied. Neither of them moved in for a hug.

“Auntie Sel!” Charlotte darted around everyone to reach her final aunt, Atlas at her heels. Both kids launched themselves at her. Selene smothered her niece and nephew in kisses before reaching into her passenger seat and producing a book for Charlotte and a tiny car for Atlas. The kids squealed with delight, and a sinking feeling of jealousy hit Talia. Will tightened his grip around her.

“So what’s the plan?” Selene asked as the kids scattered to enjoy their toys. She leaned back against her car, a leg propped on the door. “What are we even doing here?”

Talia’s jealousy shifted, a simmering anger replacing it. “We’re celebrating mom’s sixtieth birthday at her favorite place.”

“Which is apparently your place now, huh?” Selene countered with a tilt of her head, a piece of her blonde hair falling from the clip that held it back.

Talia shrugged off Will’s ever tightening grip and took a step towards her taller, older sister. “Do you have something to get off your chest?”

“Enough,” Rhea cut in, her voice sharp. “It’s mom’s birthday. Can we not for one damn day?”

“Gladly,” Talia muttered, turning back to Will.

Out of the corner of her eye as they walked away, Talia saw Roman put an arm around their sister. “You are always such a fucking delight, Selene.”

#writing community #writers of tumblr #no prompts #just vibes #fiction writing #contemporary writing #familial drama #actually a start to fantasy #writeblr #creative writing

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atreegrowsinnorthnywrites · 2 years

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Prompt: “Your character, by chance or habit, peers through a telescope. They see something unusual — what is it?”

Sticky, watermelon flavored lip gloss clung to Reed Hart’s lips after the kissing. He smiled in spite of himself at the taste, running a gentle hand though the brunette hair of the girl in his arms and wishing the moment never had to end.

Cassidy Conway had caught his eye two years ago in their sophomore chemistry class. She was quiet, but smart. Never too scared to raise her hand with a correct answer, but always too scared to peek at her cell phone in class. Her ashy brown hair would get natural highlights when she spent too much time in the sun, and she had a set of big, hazel eyes, and arguably the sweetest laugh in school. Reed could not believe his luck after pining for her from afar for two years straight, they had been randomly assigned as lab partners for astronomy junior year.

“I kinda like the lip gloss,” he said playfully, licking it from the side of his mouth with his tongue. "Where can I get some?" Cassidy swatted at him and giggled, and Reed's stomach did a backflip at the sound.

“We should probably get back to work,” she murmured, sitting up and gesturing towards the telescope angled up at the starry sky on the far end of Reed’s dad’s study. She readjusted her sweatshirt to cover the pink mark his lips had left on her collarbone. Reed swallowed and nodded in agreement, even though he would have preferred to stay with her on the couch until the end of time.

“Right,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Sorry, I just-”

“No, no.” He shook his head, encouraging her to take a look first. He would need a minute.

“It’s really cool your dad owns one of these,” she commented, sauntering over to the telescope and peering into its eyepiece. The way she was bending over the telescope caused her wavy hair to cascade down her back, nearly reaching the thin line of exposed skin between her jeans and cropped sweatshirt. Reed had to look away, at the picture of his dead grandfather in uniform on the wall behind his dad’s desk.

“Yeah, he kinda prides himself on being an amateur astrologer,” Reed explained, still staring at a young Grandpa James. “I think he would have preferred to go into science, but chose to be a financial manager for some dumb reason instead.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Cassidy replied, still staring into the eyepiece as she slowly swiveled the lens. “I don't ever want to settle in a career for money.” Reed finally joined her by the window, his textbook and notebook in arm. Neither had been opened despite Cassidy arriving over an hour ago.

“Same,” he agreed. “I have actually been considering an astronomy major…or maybe biology. I really like science.” Or at least he really liked that science was the one subject that his classes overlapped with hers.

“You better decide soon,” she chastised, her gaze still dutifully in the eyepiece. “We’re seniors, my guy.”

“Oh and I suppose you have got it all figured out. Little miss-”

“What the hell?”

Reed felt heat in his cheeks as he stammered to backtrack. “I uh…I’m sorry. I was just kidding. I know senior year can be really-”

“Reed,” Cassidy cut him off again, standing up abruptly from the telescope, her big eyes even wider than usual. “Look.”

The word came out sharply and Reed hesitated, looking from Cassidy to the telescope with confusion. He leaned down slowly towards the eyepiece, his vision adjusting.

There. In the center of what should have simply been Orion’s belt was a bright blue light with a grainy blue tail moving…at an alarming pace.

“What is that?” Cassidy asked in a hollow voice, and Reed squinted, shifting the telescope slightly to the left to follow its movement.

“Can’t be a plane,” he murmured. “Maybe a comet?”

“Reed,” she repeated his name softly, in a way that should have stirred feelings in his stomach, but instead sent shivers down his spine. “You can see it without the telescope…”

He straightened and looked to where Cassidy pointed, confirming the tiny blue light had become visible to the naked eye. Light abruptly bathed his neighbor’s yard below, startling him. Reed watched as the elderly couple rushed outside, looking upward. He walked around the telescope, leaning out the window into Charlotte, North Caroline’s warm fall air and saw neighbors across the street hurrying out their front door too.

“Reed…what’s going on?” Cassidy whispered. Voices could be heard on the second floor landing, and Reed realized the sound from the living room television had grown in volume. The door to his father’s study was suddenly thrown open making them both jump, and revealing Reed's parents and little sister.

“It’s on the news,” Reed’s sister, Hope, exclaimed before his dad could say a word.

“Let me look,” his dad said quietly, and Reed tugged Cassidy away from the telescope, looking to his mom who stood silent in the door frame, her arms wrapped around twelve year old Hope.

“Should I go?” Cassidy asked the room softly. Reed looked back to the window. It was bigger, yet. The cobalt blue light vibrant against the black sky.

“Sean?” His mom asked his dad. “What is it?”

“I don’t…,” his dad muttered, making an adjustment to the telescope and continuing to follow the light across the sky. “I don’t know.”

“I’ll go,” Cassidy insisted in Reed’s ear just as the small television in the study was turned on by Hope.

“Experts are saying it’s a potential meteorite…it’s impact point uncertain due to the sheer speed-”

“What does that mean?” Hope asked the room anxiously, her seventh grade mind neither too naive nor too educated to fully grasp the reporter’s dire tone. Cassidy looked at Reed. They had just learned the difference between meteors, asteroids, and comets yesterday. “Impact point? That means it’s going to hit something?" Hope asked, her voice cracking. "To hit us?”

“Hope," their mom exclaimed, shaking her head.

“A meteorite is a meteoroid that hits the earth's surface,” Cassidy said to the room in a monotone voice.

“Cass,” Reed said quietly, wishing she would turn off her intelligent thoughts for the sake of his fearful sister. “Let me take you home.”

“I don’t think either of you should leave,” his dad said suddenly, finally breaking his attempt to identify the light.

“Mr. Hart, I think I need to check on my parents-”

The reporter’s voice cut over their conversation. “We’ve just received word that the southeastern United States is the most likely target based on current trajectory and speed over the last hour.”

Reed’s mouth went dry.

“Daddy?” Hope whispered.

“It’s bigger,” Cassidy said breathlessly, trembling as she stared out the window. The sky was beginning to glow a disturbingly neon blue. Reed instinctively reached for her hand.

“We should go downstairs...to the pantry," his dad declared. “You too, Cassidy." She was squeezing Reed’s hand with all her might and looked over to Mr. Hart with a trembling jaw. “Call your parents to let them know."

His mother and Hope hurried out of the room. Reed could hear their fearful cries as they bounded down the stairs. He felt nauseous; his head starting to spin as the reporter’s voice on the television grew more anxious as updates on the impact point continued.

“Let’s go,” his father urged and Cassidy dropped Reed’s hand and started to the door, her phone already to her ear as she swallowed back tears.

“Dad,” Reed pleaded, the two of them left upstairs. “Is this bad?”

His father studied him for a moment, cocking his head to the side. “You have something-” his father murmured, ignoring the question, and bringing a thumb to Reed’s cheek, wiping away the watermelon lip gloss. His father’s solemn expression turned to a brief, knowing smile. “I like her.”

“Me too,” Reed whispered, feeling tears brimming at his eyes.

“Hurry” his father replied, his express serious again. "Just in case."

Reed paused in the door of the study, taking one last look over his shoulder, out the open window, at the glowing blue sky. It had become painfully bright, turning the office a harrowing hue of blue. He licked his lips anxiously, tasting the last bit of remaining gloss from the girl he had spent two years yearning for, but had finally kissed.

If it all might end, at least it would end with this.

#Contemporary romance #contemporary fiction #contemporary writing #short story #writing prompts #writing prompt #romance writing #short story romance #science fiction #science fiction short story #writers of tumblr

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atreegrowsinnorthnywrites · 3 years

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Prompt: "Write a story where one person is trying to say goodbye but keeps getting interrupted."

Short story:

My dad takes his coffee with a splash of cream, and absolutely no sugar, in the swirly blue clay mug mom made. I always pour myself the first cup since I like my coffee black and so hot that it burns going down. Then I pour his, and last I pour Lena’s. She takes hers with enough milk and sugar that it no longer tastes like coffee, so it never matters if it’s lukewarm. Our coffee preferences are a lot like us.

I savor the first sip of that magical, acidic bean juice breathing life into my body before I start my day. I savor it the most at the breakfast counter beside my dad as we tear apart the morning’s New York Times, arguably the only home in the tri-state who still gets it delivered. I tried to explain there was an app for that, but in the last nine months of being home, the app has resorted to desperate notifications to get me to open it. There’s something to be said about holding a physical newspaper and drinking the elixir of life beside my dad every morning.

Lena will roll in around seven, letting herself in through the kitchen door, snatching up her mug, and shimmying over to pepper us with questions that eventually force us to pay attention. “Enough with the vaccine rollout delay in Europe. I have news from Mrs. Down The Street, and it is good.”

My sister, Lena, isn’t a gossip per say, but she appreciates news about tangible people. She wants to know if her neighbors are well and if her friends feel loved and if dad is showering enough. She has a big heart, Lena. She means well, even if the news isn’t always nice.

At seven-twenty sharp we all part ways.

Lena to her second-grade classroom, Dad to his accounting firm, and me to the make-shift office in the sunroom. I work remotely ever since the pandemic began, when my company realized a computer works the same whether it’s in the office or in my apartment. Or at my dad’s. It made it easy when I decided to come home for a while.

With the first ping of my email, my peaceful morning comes to a close. I drink my coffee with vigor and less intention. I squeeze a workout in when there is a lull in meetings at eleven, add everything to the crockpot for dinner at one, wave to dad when he returns around four-thirty, and finish up my last call with the west coast at six. In the evenings I read or watch a sitcom with dad, and sometimes I’ll head over to Lena’s to spend time with her fiancé and their rowdy rescue dog.

I have grown so used to the routine, of being around family again, I nearly fall off my chair when my company announces we can return to doing the exact same things we do at home, in the office once again. Even more so when my boss specifically requests it. I think of my vacant apartment in Chicago, and agree it’s for the best. I briefly consider getting my own rowdy rescue dog.

On my last morning, I arrive in the kitchen at six-thirty, showered and dressed, to brew the first pot of coffee like always. I startle at the sight of my dad and Lena seated at the breakfast counter, the smell of freshly brewed coffee already in the air. They smile when I walk in, and I raise a suspicious eyebrow.

“What-”

“We know you're trying to sneak out to avoid saying goodbye,” Lena interrupts.

“I said goodbye last night,” I remind them, slowly, “at the goodbye dinner?”

“We know,” my dad agrees, clearing his throat.

“Was it not actually a goodbye dinner?”

“Dinners aren’t our thing,” Lena says with a shrug.

“Mornings are,” dad adds.

I am still rooted to the spot, eyeing them distrustfully, when I notice dad is holding one of the plain, white mugs. I look to the coffee pot and see the swirly blue clay mug mom made beside it. I open and close my mouth and no words escape.

“I have a travel mug for the road,” I whisper.

“I told you she would say that,” Lena mumbles.

“We just thought-”

“I should really hit the road,” I interject. I am fumbling for my keys. Everything was packed last night besides the backpack on my shoulder. I did not want dad making a fuss this morning packing the car for me. I am not one to make a fuss. It is one of the reasons I learned to take my coffee black.

“Anna,” my dad’s voice is pleading with me, and I feel my chin tremble involuntarily. “I want to say thank you.”

“Dad, I should really-” He is ignoring me, walking over to the pot of coffee and lifting it without my permission. He pours the swirly blue clay mug to the brim, leaving no room for cream or sugar. Just the way mom drank it, too.

“We can’t say thank you enough for coming home, An,” Lena adds. Her eyes are glassy and I have to look away, out the window to my packed SUV.

“You’ve taken care of us all year,” dad says quietly, standing beside me again, and holding out the mug.

“It’s what she would have wanted,” I manage to utter. I am taking the mug from him, my cold, clammy hands warming immediately at its touch. Her initials stare up at me from the handle, and I fight the urge to cry.

“The cup is yours,” dad adds.

“I should really just use a travel mug.”

“You’re not leaving yet.”

“I want to miss traffic.”

“But I saved you the business and international sections.” He holds up the New York Times and gestures to the middle chair.

“And you won’t believe what I saw when I drove by Mrs. Next Door’s at sunrise,” Lena chimes in, patting the seat.

I look between them, knowing this is a fight I do not want to win. I shake my head and bring mom’s swirly blue clay mug to my lips. I let the first sip of coffee settle into my soul, and imagine her bustling around in the kitchen with us, too.

"Alright,” I concede, shrugging my backpack off my shoulder and grabbing the business section with one hand and clutching the mug close to my heart with the other. “But only until seven twenty sharp.”

#contemporary #fiction #short story #writing prompts #prompt #familial love #familial relations #family #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writers and poets #writersofinstagram

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atreegrowsinnorthnywrites · 3 years

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if you're a writer i wish u a very plot/story/character epiphany

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atreegrowsinnorthnywrites · 3 years

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Writing little love stories is all that's working for me right now...

“Maia Chamberlain?”

Maia looked over the glasses resting on the bridge of her nose - which she had been using to assess the sell-by-dates of the bagged salads in either hand - to a tall, lean, brown haired man standing in front of the island of broccoli. She lowered the bagged salads, wrinkling her nose to shift her glasses, attempting to recognize the wide smile and dusting of freckles on the cheeks of the man grinning at her.

“Cole Griffiths,” he elaborated, placing a hand to his chest. “Class of 2012.”

Maia absentmindedly placed one of the salad bags back, pushing her glasses into a normal position, and remembered. Cole Griffiths, the gawky, freckled runner in the grade below her. He was no longer skinny and covered in freckles. He was still lean, like he ran a few days a week, but he had filled out, his biceps particularly.

“Cole,” she repeated. “Right. We ran track together.”

“Yeah!” He agreed with a jovial laugh. “We had AP English, too.”

“We did?” She asked, suddenly aware of the light blue button up and jeans he was wearing while she donned black joggers and a grey crew-neck sweater that had been worn one time too many without a wash.

“Yep,” he said with certainty, despite Maia having no recollection of taking Mr. Herbert’s aggressive AP English with him. He was carrying a small basket overladen with food. A man who thought a cart was unnecessary. “You live in Chicago, right?" Cole asked. "I think I remember seeing that on Instagram awhile back.”

They were Instagram friends?

“I do, yes. I mean I did.”

“You did? Past tense?”

“I am uhm,” Maia shook her head, scrambling for an explanation. “I am living back home for...now.”

“For now?” He asked, waiting for her to explain. When she did not he forced an awkward laugh. “Well...that’s cool.”

“My mom died.” Maia froze. Had those words really just tumbled out of her mouth in the middle of a grocery store? Cole’s perpetual smile faded, his eyebrows furrowing together. “Sorry," Maia added. "I don’t know why I told you that. I’m uh helping out my dad for a while...after everything.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that,” Cole replied, his voice low and sincere.

“Thank...you,” She mumbled, glancing back down to her bagged salad with renewed interest.

“Well I won’t keep you,” Cole said as Maia deposited the salad in her cart, looking farther down the wall of produce in the hopes of hinting at an end to this conversation. “Sorry again about your mom.”

“I am the one who is sorry to have announced that in the middle of a Piggly Wiggly.”

“It’s really okay,” he assured her with a soft smile. Maia turned away from him, contemplating whether to just leave her cart right there and retreat to her vehicle, when he repeated her name.

“Maia.”

“Mmm?” She turned back. “This might be a little weird, but do you want to grab drinks sometime? If you’re going to be around...for now?”

She blinked rapidly, knowing it couldn’t be the messy bun, the wrinkly athleisure wear, or the glasses sliding down her nose that compelled him to ask. He was pitying her. Offering her a date to make up for her dead mom.

“It’s okay,” She said. “You don’t have to do that because I just bared my soul-”

“No, no,” he laughed and Maia noticed a shallow dimple in his right cheek when he did. “It’s not like that. Just a friendly offer to catch up.”

“Oh." Maia swallowed. "Sure?" Again. A word leaving her mouth without any intention or consideration. She bit down on her inner, lower lip wondering what the hell was wrong with her this afternoon.

“Great. I’ll put my number in your phone?” He suggested, and before she could rethink what she was agreeing to, Maia was unlocking her iPhone and handing it over to Cole Griffiths.

“Yours?” He asked, turning the screen back to Maia and the photo of her golden retriever, Jo excitedly romping around Lake Michigan.

“Yes,” Maia nodded. “Jo, is her name. Jojo, affectionately.”

“She’s really cute,” He replied, navigating into her contacts, adding his name, and returning it with that same big grin he wore earlier. “Text me whenever.”

------

“Helloooo,” Maia’s best friend, Araminta, sang into the phone.

“You will never guess who I ran into today,” Maia replied, flopping down on the couch.

“Tell me it was Emma Palmer, and I know we’re supposed to be body positive, but tell me she looks terrible.”

Maia cackled so loud Jojo rushed into the room with excitement, her eyes sweeping the room for a toy. “It was not Emma Palmer-”

“Lame.”

“It was Cole Griffiths,” Maia said as Jo plowed into the side of the couch with a squeaking frog toy in her mouth.

“Cole.” Squeak. “Griffiths?!” Araminta squealed.

“You remember him?”

“Yeah he took AP English with us.” Maia covered the mouthpiece of her phone, mouthing a what the fuck to Jojo who had dropped the toy in Maia’s crotch and was eagerly waiting for it to be thrown across the room.

“I don’t remember that.”

“Really?” Araminta answered, the clattering of dishes sounding from her end as Jojo reminded Maia with a squeak that the stuffed frog was ready to be tossed. “He sat right behind you that semester.”

“You have a creepily good memory.”

“Thank you. Tell that to my ex.”

Maia giggled as she ripped the toy free of Jojo’s mouth and sent it sailing across the living room into the kitchen.

“How’d he look?” Araminta asked.

“I mean,” Maia pursed her lips. “Good, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“He gave me his number?”

“HE WHAT?” Squeak!

“It is not a big deal, Ari. I mentioned my mom and I think the man took pity on me.”

“You told him about your mom? How long were you talking to this guy?” Maia ground her teeth together as she ripped the stuffed frog free of Jojo’s mouth again.

“It kind of just spilled out. I am a mess.”

“Which is why, you should definitely text him.”

“Excuse me?” Maia replied, holding the frog above her head as Jojo leaped for joy to reach him.

“Mai, I love you, but you need to get out of that house.”

“I literally ran into Cole at the grocery store.”

“Do you hear yourself?” Maia frowned, giving the frog a lackluster toss to Jojo’s disappointment, who decided to sit and stare at Maia instead of chasing it. “Your dad will be fine alone for one night. Text this handsome man-”

“I don’t think I said handsome-”

“-and ask him to take you somewhere nice.”

“I would prefer you take me somewhere nice.”

“Me too, babe. This is why we’re both still single at almost thirty.”

Jojo cocked her head to the side in judgement.

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“Text him. Gotta go, babe. Bye.” Before Maia could muster a reply she heard the click of Araminta’s line. She exhaled, dropping her phone onto the coffee table with a clatter and looking at the golden retriever whose head was still tilted, staring Maia down.

“Don’t you dare tell me to text him too,” Maia scolded the dog, folding her arms across her chest.

She was not going to text some guy she vaguely remembered from high school track meets. Even if Cole Griffiths could now probably take the gold medal in shot put with those biceps, or arguably, lift her up into his arms in one fell swoop...

#writing #writing community #romance #fluff #love story #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writers life #writing prompt #contemporary romance #contemporary fiction #short story #womens fiction

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atreegrowsinnorthnywrites · 3 years

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A little v-day love story

I was on my second helping of Dad’s infamous enchiladas when my older brother, Sam, clapped his hands together and declared, “We’re going out!”

My fork clattered to the half-eaten plate and I gave him a stern shake of my head.

“Come onnn, Em,” Sam whined, precariously tipping back his chair so it hovered on two legs. “You can’t sit around and mope forever. Silas and Sean will come too.”

I looked to my two other older brothers with a challenging raise of my eyebrow as Dad leaned forward and cuffed Sam over the head.

“Hell no I’m not,” Sean said without hesitation. All four legs of Sam’s chair returned to the ground with a disappointed thud. “I love you and I’m here for you, Em, but no.”

I chuckled at my eldest brother’s immediate reaction. With a family of his own, and an hour and a half drive back to Tucson, I was not surprised in the least. Silas’s lips were pursed and he actually appeared to be considering.

“Just say no,” I muttered as Sam egged him on.

“I have to text Paige,” Silas said slowly, “but if she doesn’t mind.”

“YES!” Sam pumped his fist triumphantly. “Dad?”

I looked to our patriarch, mid-lift of his beer to his lips, who snorted. “I’ll pass, but so thoughtful of you.” I stifled laughter at Sam’s disappointed face.

“Alright, Em. Go get ready.”

“I’m not done eating?”

My plate disappeared with a quick swipe of Sam’s hand and he waved me away with the other. “You are now.”

---------------------------------------------------------

An hour later we were pulling out of the long driveway that led to Dad’s ranch. I was wedged in the back seat of Silas’s truck between his work boots and tools, Chattahoochee blaring through the speakers, Sam and Silas arguing about the best bar in Bisbee on a Friday night, and it hit me this was the first time I had ever gone out with my brothers.

If I thought about it more, it wasn’t that surprising. After the divorce-court mandated summers in Arizona with my dad and brothers had ended my senior year, I never came back for an extended period again. My mom, my friends, and college were all back in Michigan. Once I met Thomas my sophomore year at Michigan State, I had spent my holiday weekends with his family in Chicago instead of visiting my own.

“You need more air, Em?” Silas asked from the front seat, smiling at me in the rear view.

“I’m good,” I murmured back, a wave of guilt flooding me.

Guilt that reminded me the five years of my life I had spent on Thomas had been a waste, and when the engagement and subsequent wedding had been called off, it had been my dad and three older brothers who had welcomed me home. It was my dad and brothers who had no judgement or questions.

“You better not sulk all night,” Sam warned, whipping around and eyeing me warily.

“I won’t.” I crossed my arms and scowled.

“Good.”

It had been three months since I had broken down in sobs at a dinner with Thomas and proclaimed I couldn’t marry him. Though I would die before admitting aloud any of my brothers were right, it was indeed time to get out of the house.

After Silas parked the truck in downtown Bisbee, we made our way down the string-light filled main street toward a packed bar with live music. Wafts of cigarette smoke, and definitely weed, greeted us outside the door. Silas and Sam shuffled me inside, pushing passed bodies to inch our way towards the bar. The crowd was far more eclectic than I would have guessed for my western brothers, with a band that sounded more like folk rock than country.

“What’ll it be?” Sam shouted over the music.

“A margarita,” I yelled back. “Spicy, if they can.”

He gave me a thumbs up and approached the bar while Silas waved to a group of guys from across the bar that had recognized him. During my summers on dad’s ranch, the only friends I ever really made were friends of my brothers, but I had not seen any of these guys since high school. The band played the final notes of their song and the crowd cheered enthusiastically as they announced a short intermission. Then I heard a high-pitched whistle.

“Ho-ly shit.”

I turned at the curse and came face-to-face with a brown haired, short-bearded, six-foot-or-so man wearing a white t-shirt, dark jeans, and vans. I squinted, and then he said my name.

“Emmeline Collins.”

There was only one person I had ever heard drag the “i” in my name that way.

“Lane?”

My stomach was in my throat. I remembered, very clearly, the last time I had ever spoken to Lane Diaz. He was smiling despite my memory, his right hand wrapped around a bottle of Corona and his left in the pocket of his jeans.

“Didn’t recognize me?” He asked with a laugh, and I debated admitting the truth. He looked great. Better, actually. But his southern accent had faded, and his cowboy look from all the years romping around the ranch with Sam was gone.

“Diaz!” Sam cried as he approached with two bottles in one hand and my cocktail in the other. He distributed the drinks for Silas and me, and then gave Lane a hug. “What’s up, man?”

“Just getting reacquainted with Em.” I frowned. Were we though? “Y’all didn’t mention your little sister was back in town.”

Sam looked down at me and then back to Lane. “Oh, right! You two haven’t…since…oh...right.” Sam took a long pull of his beer, and I stared him down the entire drink.

“Weekend visit to see the family?” Lane asked politely.

“Uhm,” I sipped my margarita for courage. A bite of jalapeño, just the way I liked it. “No. I’m uh, here for the summer.”

“Just like when we were kids,” Lane observed. I took another drink.

“Oh, hey!” Silas announced loudly, moving towards the crowd, “I see uhm...yeah I’ll be over here.”

Silas hurried out of sight, but when Sam went to follow, I dug the heel of my sandal down into his foot.

“What’s it been? Six years?” I asked Lane, taking a third sip and willing the alcohol to hit quickly.

“Seven in August, actually.”

Oh, he remembered.

“I’m going to let you two catch up,” Sam declared bluntly, extracting his foot from under my heel through gritted teeth and patting my shoulder as he walked by. The band was returning to the stage. Lane nodded to a pair of empty seats that had just vacated next to a window, on the far side of the bar from the band. I was trapped and agreed with a jerky, awkward nod.

“You look as surprised to see me as I am to see you,” He noted as we sat down.

“My brothers didn’t mention you were still around,” I replied. I was not entirely surprised he was, considering the rate of people who never leave a small town, but Lane had always seemed different. It was what had attracted me to him all those years ago.

“I moved back last summer,” He shared as the band started up again.

“Where were you before?” I asked over the growing sound.

“Army.”

Now, that, I did not expect. We had talked about going to college together on the west coast before everything happened.

“And you?” He asked, “What are you doing here?”

The question was edged with a coolness I deserved. His face was serious, his warm, brown eyes watching me intently. I did not want to rehash my screwed up, disappointing life with my ex-boyfriend, of all people.

“Another drink, hon?” A waitress asked from behind and I realized I had drained the cocktail in my hand.

“Yes,” I agreed quickly, “Margarita with jalapeño.”

Lane chuckled as the waitress walked away.

“What?” I asked him defensively.

“Why am I not surprised Em Collins’ drink of choice is tequila and spice?”

Ouch.

“The same reason I’m not surprised yours is Corona. What are you on vacation in Rocky Point?” I scoffed.

“You know I asked for a Pina Colada, but they gave me this instead.”

I laughed, and his stoic expression split into the friendly grin I had seen when he first caught sight of me in the bar.

“How long were you in the Army?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me. He had a knowing look on his face, aware that I had dodged his question, but polite enough not to call me out. Yet.

“Four years.”

The waitress returned with my drink, and I made sure to put it on Sam’s tab.

“Good for you,” I replied, “Thanks for your uh…service.”

Lane cringed and took a sip of beer while I briefly contemplated throwing back my entire drink so I could at least claim my awkwardness was from blacking out.

“So, where’s your fiancé?” He asked.

I froze mid sip of my drink and looked up at him. We had not been friends on social media since my freshman year of college when a few months into dating Thomas I did an inventory of old photos and took down all of those with Lane and removed him as a friend. A little dramatic, thinking back on it.

“How did you…”

“Sam and I are still friends, Em.”

Duh. My stupid brother had probably told him ages ago. The alcohol was starting to go to my head, making me light and loose-lipped. I didn’t even know why I was skirting around this. I had nothing to prove to Lane Diaz.

“I broke off the engagement a couple months ago. We’re not together.”

It was the most abrupt way I had said it yet. It felt painfully final. Despite my boldness, I could not look at Lane’s face and so I followed it with a shrug and stared out the window.

“Damn. I’m sorry.” Lane said gently.

“It was for the best,” I said quickly, glancing at him and seeing furrowed eyebrows, “Trust me.”

“Doesn’t make it any less hard,” He noted. No, no it did not.

“It sucks, but what do you do,” I replied pitifully, taking yet another drink.

“Is that why you’re back?” He pressed. Lane was never scared to push me. I remember that about our two summers together. He always asked the questions I did not want to answer. Challenged the things I thought and believed.

“Part of it,” I admitted, “Honestly, uhm...I’m having a bit of a quarter-life crisis.”

“I see.”

“I knew my dad would be more understanding...”

A look of recognition crossed Lane’s face and he winced for me. I had almost forgotten our daily phone calls nearly every night of my junior year.

“How’d your mom take it?” He raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You’re a jackass,” I said with a flourish of my straw, flicking droplets of my drink in his direction. “Because you know exactly how well she took it.”

He coughed on his drink of beer and we both broke into laughter.

“Still a little high strung then?”

“A little?”

“Worse?” Lane gaped.

“After I told her we broke up, she called me back and said I needed to beg for Thomas’s forgiveness. Tell him I was having mental health issues or I would fracture my future.”

“Jesus.”

I finished the rest of my second margarita at the memory of my mother’s shrill voice on the phone. We had spoken once since, and that conversation had been even worse.

“How’s your ma?” I asked, desperate to change the topic.

“She’s good. She was sick last year, but she’s feeling better.” He paused at the look of my face, and I bit my lip to keep from asking more. I had my assumptions with the smoking habit his mom, Eileen, had back then. “She would love to see you.”

He placed emphasized on the word love, and I looked away, uncomfortable at the very thought of going back to Lane’s childhood home where we used to hang out alone when his mom was working nights. Lane seemed to regret the statement and drained the rest of his beer. Regardless of my discomfort, I was not heartless.

“I’d love to see her too,” I added, and Lane relaxed. When his tense shoulders fell, I noticed how much more muscular he was than when we were kids. His brown skin wasn’t as tan anymore though, so he must work indoors. My eyes subtly trailed down to his hand, where I noted no ring on any fingers.

“Another round?” The waitress asked and Lane opened his mouth to answer, but instead gestured to me to decide.

“Sure,” I agreed, and she winked at me, obviously assuming we were on an early date.

“You don’t have to,” Lane said. “I understand if you rather go find your brothers.”

Maybe it was the tequila, or maybe it was pure curiosity, but I shook my head. “No, this is…nice.”

He gave me his iconic frown smile I remembered well. “Well, alright then.”

The waitress returned with our drinks and when he offered up his credit card, I placed my hand over his and smiled sweetly at her, “Put them both on Sam Collins’ tab. That’s S-A-M.”

When the waitress walked away to do just that, I realized my hand was still on top of Lane’s, my body angled close enough to his I could smell his minty aftershave. He smiled softly and I dropped his hand, quickly reaching for my third drink. The most sour margarita they had made me yet. My mouth puckered and I shivered as it went down.

“There’s the girl I remember.” I tilted my head with curiosity at his comment and Lane laughed, taking a drink instead of elaborating.

“I’m nothing like that girl anymore,” I declared defiantly.

“Good,” Lane said, his smiling fading as he set down his beer. His eyes softened, and his voice dropped. “Because that girl broke my heart.”

#writing community #romcom #romance writing #soft romance #love story #writing prompts #writing prompt #writing ideas #fiction writing #writeblr #short story #prompts

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atreegrowsinnorthnywrites · 3 years

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Idea: Actually came to me while I was falling asleep last night, based off a true story of my great, great uncle that went to Nome, Alaska, sent a letter home to his family that he had found gold (literally struck it rich), and then a few months later, his family received a letter that he had died... Intro: Bursts of excited storytelling, dogs-that-were-told-to-go-lay-down sneaking under the dining room table, and casseroles with far too much cheese made up our monthly Alm family dinners. I had missed the last two, so I had been bullied by mom into making the side dish that sat virtually untouched (lemon pepper steamed asparagus). Scooping a helping of the spindly greens, I nibbled the ends and waited for my little sister, Elle, to finish her retelling of her most recent leading role in her high school play.

“And then everyone jumped up from their seats and gave me a standing...OW, Camp!” The feisty fifteen year old whacked the brother between us who had pinched her. “Fine, the whole cast received a standing ovation.”

“Don’t pinch your sister.”

“Don’t hit your brother.”

“Well done, Elle.”

“So I have news.”

Five heads swiveled my way. I had, unfortunately, been deemed “the quiet Alm” due to three very rambunctious siblings and a set of overly social parents, so when I had something to say, it typically silenced the room. I suddenly felt quite hot with all eyes on me and was forced to gulp down some water before I could speak.

“Did you land an internship for the summer?” The eldest of the Alm kids, my brother Dan, asked excitedly. He had arrived to family dinner in a button up and tie from a long of work at his financial investment firm in Milwaukee. Of course this was his assumption.

“Uhm, no.” I set down the water and then placed my shaky hands in my lap.

“What is it, Cath?” Dad asked between chews of a heaping bit of cheesy casserole.

“I’m spending the summer in Alaska.”

Dad’s chewing ceased. Mom, who had been warning the dogs to go-lay-down-or-else, froze mid discipline. Dan frowned and Campbell (seventeen and truly clueless) looked on the verge of laughter, eagerly awaiting my parent’s reaction. Elle, my only ally, smiled.

“You’re what?” Mom finally managed to ask, blinking repeatedly in the way she did when implying we better change our answer.

“I’m going to Alaska for the summer. Fairbanks, specifically.”

“Fairbanks.” Mom repeated slowly, and then looked to Dad. Without uttering a word she demanded he better do something about this.

“Cath,” Dad started, swallowing the bite he had been working on for a minute and setting down his cutlery. “What are you going to do in Alaska?”

This was the part I was dreading. Not because they could prevent me from going, no. I was twenty-one years old and paying for my own college tuition on scholarships and federal loans. I had picked a reasonable major - environmental studies - and took enough math and science classes, I would certainly find a job somewhere when I finished my degree next spring. I was dreading the why because every time I repeated the explanation out loud, I sounded more insane.

“Do you remember that story of grandpa’s about his dad’s dad who went to Alaska in search of gold?” I asked, timidly.

“Yes…,” Mom, Dad, and Dan murmured. Camp and Elle just stared.

“You know how no one knows what happened to him?” I continued. My family replied with a series of scattered blinks. “He left his wife and baby to go find gold in Alaska, they received that letter that he struck it rich outside Fairbanks, and then he never came home. They never heard from him again.”

“Okay,” Dad said slowly, like he was talking down the world’s craziest person from a cliff.

“Grandpa still has that letter from his grandpa, Dad. It’s been almost a hundred years. No one knows anything,” I hesitated, taking a deep breath of courage. “but I am going to find out.”

“You are going to find out…”

“Yes,” I said with a laugh that bubbled up my chest, and on its release I felt calmer than I had in the weeks of planning and anticipating this conversation.

“Are you going because grandpa is sick?”

The lump in my throat that had been there since Christmas week when my Dad had told me Grandpa's prognosis grew, constricting my breath. I looked to Elle, considering her question, noting her watery eyes and splotchy pink cheeks.

“Grandpa has always wanted to know what happened, right?” I whispered back, unable to make my voice get any louder. The faces around the table softened, eyes glistened, and my Dad wiped a tear from his cheek. Maybe they would understand, after all.

“I can come with you…” Dan offered, tentatively.

I shook my head adamantly. “You have a job, a life, Dan. You can’t just upend everything for a summer. Besides..”

“Besides, what?” Mom asked sharply, suspicion in her eyes.

“I’m going with Grandpa.”

Silence followed, no one daring to even move. A dog placed its cold snout in my lap, nudging my hands.

“Wait...if grandpa is going,” Elle said excitedly. “Can I go?!” “No!” Five voices shouted in unison. The fifteen year old slumped back in her chair, eyes rolling to the ceiling.

“Alaska,” Dad whispered again, and I reached for his hand.

Alaska.

#I kinda want to write this whole friggin book now #Writing Community #Writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing prompt #writing ideas #story idea #novel idea #writing #writers and poets #female writers #amwriting

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atreegrowsinnorthnywrites · 3 years

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Prompt: Your main character is approached by their long-estranged parent who wants to reconnect. How do they react? Story:

When I was little, my mama convinced me I came only from her.

“It’s why we look so much alike,” She would say with a pinch of my freckled cheeks and a tug on one of my unruly curls. I would look into her light brown eyes that mirrored my own and believe her.

My nana, who shared the same curly hair and freckly face, would shake her head and scold my mama behind closed doors of our yellow house, but neither of them would correct what I knew to be true: I was my mother’s daughter, and hers alone.

It was not until Sunday school in the third grade when mean, white-haired Ms. Martha ominously told the class Jesus was not Joseph’s son, but Mary’s alone! My hand shot up to announce that I was the same, Ms. Mary nearly had a heart attack, and the two women who raised me were forced to set the story straight.

“His name was Jack. I don’t know anything else, and don’t ask me either.” My mama was unable to look me in the eye as she shoved a photograph into my hands. A younger version of my mama and a man in a cowboy hat and a long sleeve button up stood with their arms around each other next to a cactus. His face was hidden by the hat, and all I could see was he was tall and tan. Nana told me later they met in West Texas during mama’s “wild phase” and she came back home with me in her belly, and that was that.

The photograph was pinned to the cork board in my bedroom beside magazine cut outs of the cast from Harry Potter and printed song lyrics I had doodled hearts around. Over time, shirtless cut outs of Ryan Gosling and Zac Efron replaced the actors from Harry Potter, and angsty poems about love replaced the song lyrics, and by my senior year of high school, a college acceptance letter to UT covered it all.

But the photograph remained.

The photograph was there when I came home from college every summer. It was there when we celebrated my first job and Nana’s long overdue retirement. It was there when I left the lake early Memorial Day Weekend brokenhearted because the man I thought was proposing, announced he was in love with someone else. And it was there, at twenty-five years old, when my mama called me during a happy hour with friends, and I had to step outside the restaurant to better hear her trembling voice that whispered to me, “Jack wants to meet you, baby.”

As I look up at the yellow, two-story house with a white wrap around porch that could use a new coat of paint, I know the photograph will be there.

Except this time, for the first time, so will he.

I open the creaky screen door with my stomach in my throat. My nana greets me with a cinnamon sugar cookie (my favorite) and a hug. I am barely able to return her embrace because across the beige carpeted living room, he sits on the couch.

My mama leaps up from her chair at the sight of me, fidgety and anxious. I can guarantee she has been picking her fingernails to the quick. She offers me a tentative smile, but I am too fixated on him. Jack stands up slowly, a cowboy hat in hand. He does not appear nervous like my mama. He is calm, like me.

His hair is peppery, his eyes blue, and his skin like leather.

We look nothing alike, and I have a strange urge to laugh at this stranger across the room from me.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hello,” I reply.

“We’ll let you two get on,” My mama offers quietly, squeezing my shoulder as she walks by to join nana in the kitchen.

“I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while now,” Jack says. I want to ask what he means by a while, but instead I say nothing at all. “Your mama says you got a fancy job in the city.”

I nod. My mama tells everyone that.

“Listen, I…I hope it’s okay that I’m here.”

“It’s okay,” I say, reassuring myself more than him.

“I wanted to reach out a lot sooner than when you were all grown up,” He says, his voice cracking a bit at the end.

“It’s okay,” I repeat.

“You see, I drank a lot when I met your mama,” He attempts to explain. “If I’m honest, I drank a lot up until a couple years back. But I’m sober now.”

“That’s good,” I say, and I want to be genuine, but it comes off flat.

He shrugs. “I just thought it was the right thing to do. To meet you.”

A silence follows and questions gnaw at me. The kitchen is silent, and I know mama and nana have their ears pressed up to the door.

“You live in West Texas?” I ask and he nods eagerly. “What do you do?”

“I work the oil fields.”

Of course.

“Did you know about me? When she was pregnant?”

Another nod. Of course. Though I am surprised by how much this fact does not bother me.

“I don’t look like you,” I say. Jack looks dumbfounded, and I can feel him studying me. From my head of unruly brown curls pulled half back right down to my dainty feet.

“No, you don’t.” He admits. “You look your mama.”

Tears fill my eyes. We exchange a few more niceties. I do not invite him to stay for dinner and he does not ask to join. He shakes my hand when we say goodbye and I notice, like me, he does not bite or pick his nails.

“Thank you,” I say at the door, smiling. “For coming.”

He tips his hat at me, hops in his pick-up, and leaves.

“How was that?” Nana asks as her arms wrap around me from behind, holding me close.

“Like meeting a stranger,” I reply. My mama sits on the stairs, watching us with a sad look on her face, but not saying a word.

When I go to bed in my childhood bedroom that night, the photograph is still there.

-----------------------------

The photograph is there, one year later, when I get a call in my new office with a door. Pouring over spreadsheets, I am tempted to press ignore, but mama’s contact photo in my cellphone smiles up at me and the guilt of being her only daughter wins.

“Hey mama, can I call you-“

“Come home,” Mama interrupt, with the emotion in her voice I have heard only once before. “It’s nana.”

The photograph is there on the corkboard of my room as I lay on the bed holding nana’s apron smelling of cinnamon and sugar tight to my face. Hot tears roll down my cheeks and when I see the picture across the room, I feel compelled to rip it down; to tear that stupid photograph in two.

“Goodness did she love you,” Mama says interrupting my rage and I look to the door where she leans against the frame with her own grief pooling in her eyes.

“Yeah?” I say, searching for reassurance even though I already know.

“She saw my belly when I got out of the car all those years ago,” Mama continues, lost in a memory. “And she didn’t ask a single question. She just looked me in the eye and said, ‘well alright, let’s raise this baby up.’”

My vision goes blurry with tears and I can barely see the photograph now.

“You know how I used to tell you that you only come from me?” She asks, and my heart lurches.

“Well, I lied.”

“Mama-” The man I met once is the last thing I want to talk about now.

“You come from me and from her,” She whispers.

I choke back a sob and mama sits down next to me. We sit there, side by side, until the sun rises again.

---------------------------------------------------------

The photograph is not there anymore.

It sits in the bottom drawer of an old oak writing desk in a new home. When my curly haired daughters ask me who my daddy was, I pull it out for them. They laugh with blue eyes like their daddy’s and tell me I don’t look like mine. I smile, nod, and tuck it back away.

On the corkboard I hang in my eldest daughter’s room I pin a photograph of three women in front of a yellow house: my nana, my mama, and me.

The women who raised me. The only ones I come from.

#writing prompts #writing community #writing ideas #amwriting #short story #short stories #writing #writeblr #prompt #reedsy #reedsy prompts #contemporary story #fiction writing #coming of age

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