#FlashFiction Frozen in Time, Part IV

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Frozen in Time, Part IV

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15 Years later

“In closing, as we leave this place, let us remember Margaret Jean Merchant for her glowing smile and giving soul. She touched the lives of us all, and lives on in our hearts.”

The tears she’d held at bay spilled down Petra’s cheeks as she watched the mortuary staff remove the flowers from the casket. Ladies from Maggie’s church came forth to gather the arrangements and take them out to waiting vehicles for the ride to the cemetery.

She watched the ladies, trying to look anywhere but at the casket. But when the casket’s latch was slid into place, it echoed against the high vaulted ceilings of the chapel… and straight to Petra’s core, shattering what was left of her broken heart.

A low moan escaped her lips, followed by deep sobs. Leonard wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled his sister close. “It’s okay, sis. It’s going to be okay.”

Petra couldn’t respond, but she knew things would never be the same again.

To be continued

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©2021 Felicia Denise, All Rights Reserved

#Repost Frozen in Time, Part III

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Originally posted December 2018 as part of my #52Weeks52Stories Challenge

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#52weeks52stories: Week 47

Word prompt: smack

Word count – 724

Reading time – 2 mins, 14 secs

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Frozen in Time, Part III

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Luci Gwynn yammered on about sanity napkins and belts as Petra huddled in the sofa’s corner clutching a hot water bottle against her stomach.

Neither of them heard Vance enter.

“What’s wrong with her?”

Startled, Luci looked up at her husband then smiled toward her daughter.

“My little girl’s growing up and entering womanhood.”

“Damn. Now I’ve got to keep an eye on her little hot ass, so she doesn’t go whoring around like the rest of the women in your family.”

Luci’s mouth gaped open in surprise and outrage, but she never got to respond.

Propelled forward by hate, disgust, and a new influx of hormones, Petra pounced on her father, hitting, biting, and scratching in a frenzy of rage.

Caught off-guard and stunned at first, Vance swept his arms down his body, knocking Petra to the floor.

She rose to her knees, panting like an animal ready to attack again, but Vance backed away looking at his hands and arms and feeling his face.

Undeterred, Petra tried to advance on him, but Luci wrapped her arms around her from behind, holding her back.

Vance left the room without a word, the only sound being the opening and closing of the front door.

Loosening her grip, Luci spun her daughter around. “What is wrong with you?”

Still shaking while hostility and loathing coursed through her, Petra was defiant.

“I hate him.”

“But what if he doesn’t come back?”

“Good.”

Luci’s anger grew to match her daughter’s.

“Good? What’s good about it? What about me, Petra?”

The teen sneered. “No more beatings and bruises.”

She knew the slap was coming and didn’t flinch.

Horrified by her own actions, Luci yanked her arm back, clutching her hands to her chest.

“Petra, baby, I’m so sorry.”

Petra back away, her sneer replaced by a smile, then giggles.

Luci reached out for her daughter, but Petra stepped back farther. Her giggles grew to roaring laughter.

“Petra… -”

Wrapping her arms around her stomach, Petra doubled over and tried to speak through gasps for air.

“This… is great. Daddy gives you a black eye for… something as dumb as wearing the wrong dress… and you take it. But you have no problem slapping me for standing up to the big bully.”

“Petra, baby… you don’t understand -”

“Shut up! Don’t say that! Don’t tell me I don’t understand.”

Her laughter abated, Petra rose to her full height.

“Me, Arnold and Leonard have tried to understand our entire lives. We sneak into each other’s rooms and cry together. We’ve been to the library, digging through books on domestic violence because we can’t tell anybody. We can’t ask for help, because we’ll be separated, and Arnie and Len are all I have. So, we decided you put up with daddy to protect us.” She scoffed. “But now I know we were wrong, mama. We’ve always been wrong. It’s about you, only you.”

“No, you’re wrong, baby. I do it for you and your brothers.”

“None of us should have ever been born. This isn‘t a family, it‘s a prison camp.”

“Don’t say that! You kids are everything to me.”

She hung her head in shame.

“Yes, your father hits me, but he’s never hit you. He’s never hurt any of you.”

“Hurt me? Did you see him, mama? I’m his daughter… a thirteen-year-old girl. He didn’t hit me—he didn’t fight back, and not because he’s some noble father. That was fear in his eyes. He’s not used to being challenged. Not used to anyone fighting back. You should try it sometime.”

Luci’s face crumpled at the truth of her daughter’s words.

“But you know what, mama? You don‘t have to use fists to hurt someone.”

Her words were heavy and toneless, and her body sagged, the emotional burden taking its toll.

Repeating her father’s movements, Petra backed toward the doorway.

“But he can’t hurt me anymore, mama. And he’ll never hurt me again.”

Reaching the doorway, Petra glared at the woman who’d given her life.

“And neither will you.”

“Petra!”

Ignoring Luci, she turned and left the room, not stopping until she reached the sanctuary of her bedroom.

Petra Gwynn remembered that day, not for the onset of her periods and the first step toward adulthood, but as the day both her parents no longer mattered to her.

To be continued

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©2018 Felicia Denise, All Rights Reserved

#Repost Frozen in Time, Part II

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Originally posted December 2018 as part of my #52Weeks52Stories Challenge

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#52weeks52stories: Week 46

Word prompt: smack

Word count – 414

Reading time – 1 mins, 43 secs

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Frozen in Time, Part II

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Vance Gwynn was a mountain of a man who used his bulk to intimidate his wife, Luci.

When his size and words failed, he pummeled her plus-size body with his massive fists.

Luci not only took the beatings, but she’d also always apologize and promise to be a better wife.

She shielded and protected him from law enforcement and concerned neighbors and praised him to their three children.

To no avail.

By the time Petra was eight, she had a deep, soul-wrenching hatred for her father, as did her two older brothers, Arnold and Leonard.

Vance saved the physical abuse for Luci, visiting verbal and psychological tirades on his children instead.

Regardless of how much they grew, the Gwynn children only received new school clothes every other year. Their ill-fitting apparel made Petra and her brothers the targets of abuse and bullying at school. The thrift store items Luci bought to bolster their wardrobe only worsened their plight.

Birthdays and Christmas weren’t recognized, and Vance’s practice of destroying any gifts sent by extended family ceased the flow of gifts… and communication.

The siblings grew closer, bound by their misery, their confusion about their mother’s complacency, and their intense hatred for their father.

At the end of his last year in junior high, Leonard received an engraved plaque for maintaining a perfect 4.0-grade average—the only one in the district at the junior high level. He was on-track to receive multiple scholarships for college.

He beamed with pride when he presented the award to his mother that evening. Leonard refused to allow her blatant indifference to steal his joy.

Vance took care of that.

Snatching the plaque from Luci’s hands, he banged it against the kitchen sink then dropped it in the trash.

“Stop acting like a girl. It’s just a hunk of wood and means nothing. You’ll still end up cleaning hubcaps down at Remington Car Wash… you and your brother. That’s all you’re good for.”

Standing at just under six-feet-tall, Leonard was bigger than most of the boys in his ninth-grade class, but he was almost a hundred pounds smaller than his father.

Still, his murderous glare that followed Vance as he sauntered from the kitchen both scared and excited Petra.

She didn’t want her brother to get hurt, but had he grabbed a knife from the butcher block and ran after their father, she wouldn’t have stopped him.

Just as she couldn’t stop herself two weeks later.

To be continued

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©2018 Felicia Denise, All Rights Reserved

#writephoto #Serenity A Drabble

“Serenity”

twilight_serenity

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For visually challenged writers, the image shows a blue-lit landscape, land and calm water mirroring the cloudy, silver-lit sky.

writephoto logoWritten for the #WRITEPHOTO WEEKLY PROMPT hosted by SUE VINCENT

Calm possessed her for the first time in seven months.

She no longer felt the need to scream and curse God.

The cacophony of doctors, nurses, and life-sustaining machines no longer blared in her head.

In this moment, her only memory was of the beautiful Mona Lisa smile her mother gave her before taking her last breath.

She looked down, her tears mixing with the cool evening waters, watching the ashes float away, becoming one with her mother’s beloved cove.

Despite her broken heart, she enjoyed the twilight’s serenity, knowing the woman who had given her life was at peace.

A drabble is a short work of fiction of precisely one hundred words in length.
©2020 Felicia Denise, All Rights Reserved

#writephoto #tokens “Tokens of Innocence”

“Tokens”

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For visually challenged writers, the image shows a feather, an autumn leaf and two bright red berries or beads, left amongst the stones and plants by a stone that looks like a head with jewelled eyes…

writephoto logoWritten for the #WRITEPHOTO WEEKLY PROMPT hosted by SUE VINCENT

“Tokens of Innocence”

“I’m nervous.”

“Man, I’m terrified.”

Twelve-year-old Jacky Moore turned to his friend, Matty Eastman, also twelve, and both boys erupted into laughter.

Jacky swept his dark brown curls away from his eyes. “We sound like babies.”

“Dude, think about it. Two months ago, we were the big kids at Meadowbrook Elementary, and in two days we’ll be seventh-graders at Southwestern Junior High… and the babies in the building.”

“You’re not helping.”

Matty leaned back against the birch tree and looked out over the small pond.

“I know, man, but it’s all scary. Six years ago, we were in kindergarten and six years from now, we’ll be high school graduates.”

“I’m gonna throw up.”

Matty chuckled and pulled a long tapered feather from his rucksack. “Remember when we found this and had everyone convinced it was an eagle feather?”

“You still have that? I thought you tossed it after Bartholomew Baden busted us.”

“He only knew it was a wild turkey feather because his uncle poaches them.”

Jacky sat down next to his friend. “Big-mouth Bart. Didn’t his family move?”

“Yeah. To someplace like Montana or Wyoming, I think.”

“Where there are lots of wild turkeys.”

The boys high-fived each other, then Jacky nodded toward the bag. “What else you carrying around?”

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Matty reached into the rucksack and took out a large white rock.

“Meldrick!” Jacky grabbed the smooth rock with bejeweled eyes and clutched it to his chest, belly-laughing.

Matty tried to reprimand his friend. “Don’t Laugh at Lord Meldrick, he’s sensitive,” but fell over in his own fit of laughter.

Sucking in large gulps of air, Jacky held Meldrick in the palm of his outstretched hand. “Dude, this thing got you into so much trouble… but it was funny too.”

“Whew! Don’t I know it.” Matty grinned. “But it was fun.”

“I thought you were going to be the first fourth-grader at Meadowbrook to get medicated and put away!”

Matty howled. “I still say I didn’t do anything wrong. My dad went on and on about all the money people spent on pet rocks in the eighties, so what was wrong with me having a pet rock?”

“Dude, you didn’t go out and buy a pet rock… you made your own!” Falling to his side with laughter again, Lord Meldrick rolled from his hand. Matty leaned over and picked him up. He fingered the red stone eyes he’d taken from his mother’s craft box and applied with a glue gun.

“I thought I was being creative. You know, using my imagination.”

“I could be wrong, Eastman, but talking to Lord Meldrick could have been the problem.”

“Why? We talk to Ranger and your family talks to Deacon. No one expects dogs to respond, but we still talk to them.”

Jacky rolled on to his stomach, leaning on his elbows.

“I believe your dad said, “Dogs can interact with us. Rocks can’t.”

Matty snickered. “Only my dad.” He leaned over and sat Meldrick at the base of the tree.

“You leaving it here?”

“Meldrick is a he, not it, and yeah. My mom’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline every time she walks into my room and sees him.”  Matty stuck the turkey feather into the ground next to his pet rock. “He can watch over our spot and be Ruler of the Woods.”

Matty stood, brushing off his jeans. “We’d better go. You know my dad. His idea of well-done burgers is burned burgers.”

Jacky stood to follow his best friend but stopped. “Wait.”

“Whassup?”

Slipping his hand into his pocket, Jacky removed to smooth red beads and placed them on a rock next to Meldrick.

Matty gripped his friend’s shoulder. “You sure, man?”

They both looked down at the beads given to Matty by a crisis counselor after his neighbors and classmates, Tommy and Ricky Reynolds, were killed in a car accident with their father two years ago. Jacky and the twin brothers started kindergarten together.  The beads were one of the coping mechanisms students were offered to deal with grief and anxiety. Jacky Moore carried his beads every day for almost two years.

Jacky smiled, swiping away a lone tear. “Yeah, man. It’s time to let them go.” He considered his friend. “Life sucks.”

Waggling his eyebrows to lighten the moment, Matty pulled a face. “And we’re only seventh graders.”

Jacky grinned and pushed his friend toward the well-worn path. Matty rambled on.

“We have to get used to six classes a day, final exams, MORE homework—I think the universe hates us—sports practices… dude, you playing basketball or football? We’re tall enough to play b-ball, but girls love football players. Girls! Dude, we’re going to meet new girls and maybe even date. Uh oh. Dates cost money. Man, we’ll have to get jobs! Does this never end?”

Jacky laughed, shaking his head as Matty babbled. He glanced back once at the small tokens from moments in their childhood and knew things would never be the same.

 

©2020 Felicia Denise, All Rights Reserved

#writephoto #crescent “Moments in Time”

#Crescent”

crescent moon writephoto

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For visually challenged writers, the image shows the dark silhouette of a tree against a cloudy sky. The horizon is lit by the gold of dawn, while a crescent moon hangs above the tree.

writephoto logoWritten for the #WRITEPHOTO WEEKLY PROMPT hosted by SUE VINCENT

“Moments in Time”

Having a boss who yelled too much and coworkers who did too little, Gwen Foster closed her garage door, happy to be home and alone.

She walked through the mudroom, stepping over the food dishes and litter box.

Damn cat. Two-hundred-dollars for Morrie, his shots, food and toys, and one week after he became her new roommate, Gwen opened the front door to receive an Amazon delivery, and Morrie took off. A week of lost cat posts online and walking the neighborhood and she was still cat-less.

The Imperial March played on her cellphone as she entered her bedroom and Gwen tossed it on her dresser unanswered, refusing to go to the dark side. The last thing she needed right now was to hear her mother’s weekly lecture on how her biological clock was ticking. Maggie Foster knew if Gwen would simply call Charlie and apologize, he’d come back. What she refused to believe was Charles David Benson was a lying, cheating scumbag who only used a promise of a future together to get Gwen to help pay for his extravagant lifestyle. In Maggie’s mind, women did whatever was necessary to make their men shine.

Gwen knew you couldn’t polish a rock.

She stopped long enough to kick off her black heels. She wanted nothing more than to shower away the film of office politics, difficult clients, and incompetent management that clung to her like a second skin.

Her gray pencil skirt and red silk blouse joined the heels somewhere on the bedroom floor. Gwen’s steps quickened, almost racing to the shower as her cell rang again. She turned the water on full force to drown out her mother’s persistence.

Grabbing a towel from the shelf, she threw it over the shower door then headed for her clothes hamper while removing her bra.

Catching her reflection, Gwen froze. The corners of her mouth twitched toward a smile as she caressed the small tattoo on her left shoulder.

Turning to get a full view, the world fell away as Gwen recalled a random vacation and a collision with another hotel guest in front of the elevators.

She could never explain it to anyone—although she’d never tried—but there was an instant connection with the man with the dark brown eyes. And less than an hour later, they were sitting in the hotel bar. They exchanged enough personal information to know she was Gwen; he was Gordon; they were both born in 1983, and neither was married nor had children.

They spent a perfect week together windsurfing, paddle boating, bowling, and exploring San Diego. Seaport Village was a daily stop for an oversized, four-dip waffle cone, just as each evening ended with walks on the beach under a waning moon. There was no mention of family or jobs or anything that existed before they met. This was their time.

On their last evening together, the couple strolled back to their hotel hand-in-hand after sharing a fresh seafood dinner. A light melancholy existed between them for the first time since they met, knowing it was time to check back into reality.

Gwen and Gordon weren’t in love or destined to be together. They didn’t share addresses or phone numbers or even take vacation pictures. But that week belonged to them. No one could ever take those moments in time away.

But when they crossed the street and found themselves in front of a dimly lit tattoo parlor, they looked at each other and grinned. Gordon looked up into the night sky and Gwen followed his gaze. She squeezed his hand, and when he returned his eyes to her, she nodded.

They went inside and told the grizzled old owner what they wanted. Used to inking skulls, devils, and flames, the owner—whose name was Bucket—scoffed, but dug through stacks of drawings until he found one they agreed on, and Gwen and Gordon parted the next morning with smiles, kisses, and sore arms.

She thought of him over the years, always with a smile and no regrets. Caressing the golden crescent moon on her shoulder, Gwen chastised herself for forgetting life was made up of moments, not just work schedules and family squabbles, or lost pets and dead beat boyfriends. They had their moments too, but the ones that counted were the ones that made you smile… like she was smiling now.

©2020 Felicia Denise, All Rights Reserved

#My52 “Captive Heart, Part VII”

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#My52 – Week 21

Word Prompt – breakfast

Word Count – 1161

Reading Time – 2 mins, 16 secs

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“Man, this is some straight up bull.”

Prentiss paced around the sofa where his brother sat slumped over.

“You know Yvonne is behind this. Have the cops even questioned her?”

Mark sat up, dragging his hands down his face and through his dreads. “It’s 3 a.m., dude, and it hasn’t been an hour since they finished with me. I’m sure they haven’t knocked on her door yet.”

“What the hell are they waiting for? An invitation to tea? They should have picked her up the second you gave them her name.”

When he got no response, Prentiss plopped own on the sofa next to Mark. “You look like hell.”

“Damn. Thanks, man. Love you too.”

“You know what I mean. I’m sorry for blowing up at you. It just pisses me off to see you go through shit like this when you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“It’s definitely not the weekend I planned.”

“I know, right? It was cool getting away to chill with Mom and Pop-… oh, damn! Mom and Pop. What are you going to tell them?”

“Nothing yet.”

“Huh uh. You know how upset they’ll be if you don’t call them right away.”

“And tell them what? That ten years of my life has been destroyed and the woman carrying my child is responsible?”

He rose from the sofa and walked over to the patio doors, staring out into the darkness. “I don’t know of anyone who could hate me this much. Yvonne is angry I said no to marriage, and yes, she knew I’d be out of town,” he turned to his brother, “but this is extreme for even her.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what –”

“She hasn’t been questioned yet and you’re already absolving her of guilt.”

“I’m not- ”

“You are! I get it, man. You still care about her. Maybe even love her. She’s held your heart captive since we were kids. But the Mark I spent the last few days with had found direction and was making plans. Hold on to that guy.”

“I hear you and you’re right.”

He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and turned back to the darkness of the night.

“It’s just coming to terms with everything being gone. My furniture, clothes, artwork… nothing was spared.”

“What are you going to do?”

“It’s not like I have options. Detective Lewis said they’d be done with my place no later than Monday morning. I have to get an adjuster in to file a claim, get the place cleaned up… and start over.”

“Damn. This is just messed up.”

“I couldn’t agree more, but I appreciate my big brother taking me in until I get it all figured out.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.”

“What was I supposed to do? Let you stay in some hotel with five dollar bottled water and ten dollar peanuts? Not gonna happen. Mi casa, es tu casa.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Stop thanking me. Now I can blame you for eating all the creamsicles.”

“I hate those things.”

Prentiss waggled his eyebrows. “That’s beside the point.”

Mark smiled for the first time since he’d arrived.

“That’s more like it! Now, c’mon.”

“I know I’ll regret asking, but where are we going in the middle of the night?”

“We’re both too agitated to sleep so you’re buying me breakfast.”

He had no appetite, but Mark was grateful for the distraction… and his brother.

 

He was sick of lists.

There was a list of damages for the police department, another for his insurance claim and HOA, and still a shopping list for his immediate personal needs.

Going over the project list for the rebuild one more time, Mark hit send on the email tab. Now it was Bailey’s problem.

He sat back in the chair, the weight of the week bearing down on him. Yvonne had returned none of his calls or texts and his recent conversation with Detective Lewis only added fuel to the fire.

“The partial prints the crime scene unit pulled weren’t enough to match any prints on file.”

“So, what are you saying, Detective?”

“We have no leads… ”

“Great. Just great.”

“… but we keep the investigation going. Try another canvas of your building and neighborhood.”

“Why bother? My neighbor was out and no one else heard anything.”

“You’d be surprised at what people remember after we’ve questioned them that’s helped us solve cases.”

“Detective, are you sure positive – ”

“Mr. Kelly, we’ve confirmed everything twice. Ms. Bellgoode was at her parents’ in San Diego from Friday afternoon until Monday morning.”

“Pretty convenient.”

“Agreed, not to mention the young lady is far too arrogant and condescending for my tastes, but I have no choice but to look for other leads.”

“Of which you have none.”

“True. But let me ask you again. You seriously believe your girlfriend is capable of something like this?”

Mark sighed. “Until a few weeks ago, I would have said no. But things went sour fast and I saw a different side of her, or maybe it was there all along and I just refused to see it. And she’s not my girlfriend anymore.”

“But the baby?”

“Still not sure about that. She said she was pregnant, but I’ve seen no confirmation.”

“Domestic issues turn ugly fast but I hope you’re wrong if you are going to be a father.”

Mark wasn’t optimistic about the future. The insurance adjuster had said what Detective Lewis left out.

“I see this two or three times a month, unfortunately. Homes are broken into all the time. Thieves are looking for items they can turn into quick cash.” He looked down at his portable workstation. “They took nothing from your place, but destroyed everything. This wasn’t random… this was personal.”

He’d been with Yvonne over five years and had dated no one else in over six. He hung out with his brother or guys from his work crew. His closest friend from college lived over seven hours away. There was no one else in his immediate personal life. If it wasn’t Yvonne, who did this to him?

Mark shoved his tablet into his backpack, locked up the work shack and headed for the parking lot.

He’d told his crew he might join him at Dessie’s for a beer, but now all he wanted to do was get back to his brother’s place and try to rest his weary mind. When had his life become such a shit-storm?

Mark’s brain had other plans, however, racking up a to-do list for the weekend ahead. Furniture store, bedding and linen, dishes-

His heart sank as he approached his Tahoe.

Stunned, he walked around the vehicle then turned in circles taking in the empty parking lot.

No security cameras, and construction fencing blocking all view from the street.

A perfect place and opportunity for someone to slash his tires and smash out his windows.

Clenching his fists, Mark’s body shook with contempt and rage for the anonymous attacker… who was stalking him.

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Someone is turning Mark’s life upside down and the police say it isn’t Yvonne. Is there someone else with a grudge against Mark Kelly?

To be continued…

 

Part IPart II   |  Part IIIPart IV  |  Part V  |  Part VI  |

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©2019 Felicia Denise, All Rights Reserved

 

#My52 “Captive Heart, Part VI”

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#My52 – Week 20

Word Prompt – elevator

Word Count – 921

Reading Time – 2 mins, 6 secs

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After dropping off Prentiss and promising to meet up for dinner next week, Mark Kelly headed for home.

Spending time with his family rejuvenated him. His parents’ understanding and wise counsel bolstered his resolve.

Charles Kelly’s expression had been grave.

“In a perfect world, we can do whatever we want, fulfill all our whims and desires.” He clasped his wife’s hand. “We will always support any decision you make and welcome a grandchild with open arms.”

“They will set records for spoiling a kid.”

Trudy covered her mouth to hide her giggles as Charles glared at his oldest son. “No comments from the peanut gallery.” He returned his attention to Mark.

“Follow your heart, son, but remember to listen to your mind… think it through. Marriage is an important step and not a solution to a problem.”

There was a time when he would have moved heaven and earth to have Yvonne as his wife. But loving eyes blinded him to her true character, her personal agenda, and the truth. He was nothing more than an end to the means for her, used and manipulated when needed then discarded.

Those days were over, but his mother cautioned him to not allow Yvonne to use their child as a pawn.

“All too often, children pay the price for their parents’ anger and hostility. I spent years watching my cousin, Chassie, use her son, Lee, to hurt his father. She’d show up at his job, home… family gatherings, always angry and yelling and demanding. He paid more than the required support but it was never enough for her. She wanted to make him pay for not wanting her and made the man’s life hell until he got an attorney and sued and won joint custody. Then, she interfered with his visitations.”

Trudy stared off across the backyard as though looking into the past.

“Karma is never far away though, and Chassie’s caught up to her and her bar-hopping when Lee was nine. She got two DUIs in a month and Lee’s dad sued for full custody and won.” She considered her son. “I don’t want you or any grandchild of mine going through that.”

After meeting with Yvonne and confirming her pregnancy and due date, he’d call the number on the business card his mother gave him. The family law firm had an excellent record in securing fathers’ rights in custody cases and Mark would fight for his.

He slowed as he drove past the front of his condo, curious about the police cars parked on the street. He hoped the McGills weren’t back to their weekend fighting. The management company said one more incident would force them to take legal action against the retired couple.

Rounding the corner, he entered the underground parking, glad to be home. He’d binge-watch the new season of Lucifer on Netflix and sleep-in tomorrow before getting an update on the workweek ahead.

After grabbing his duffel bag and laptop, Mark started for the elevator but stopped, seeing yellow police tape blocking the entrance.

His curiosity increased as he walked up the ramp to the exterior entrance.

Several police officers stood around the door. One stepped forward blocking Mark’s path.

“May I ask what your business is here, sir?”

Mark frowned. “I live here, What’s going on? What happened?”

“Do you have identification, sir?”

He pulled out his wallet and handed the cop his license. “Are you going to tell me what this is about? Is anyone hurt? Is it –”

The cop cut him off. “You live in unit E25?”

“Yes, I do. What is- ”

The cop turned and motioned to another uniformed colleague. “This is Mr. Kelly. He lives in E25. Escort him upstairs.”

“Sir, follow me, please.”

Exasperated, Mark followed the cop into the building and up three flights of stairs. Exiting the stairwell, he froze.

Only two units occupied each floor, and still more police personnel were gathered outside Mark’s condo.

Alarmed, he was in motion, rushing down the hallway.

“What’s going on here? What happened? This is my-”

“Sir?” A man in a dark suit tried to stop Mark but the uniformed cop spoke up.

“This is Mr. Kelly, the resident.”

Looking over the man’s shoulder, Mark’s mouth gaped open. He dropped his duffel and laptop bags.

“What the hell?”

Red paint covered every surface. Someone ripped the upholstery on the sofa and love seat to shreds before dousing them in paint. His flat screen television was smashed and lay in pieces in front of the stand. The African masks he’d spent years collecting were all smashed in the fireplace. Tables were overturned, pictures ripped from the walls… nothing had been spared.

“W-Who did this? When? Why?”

The suited man spoke up. “I’m Detective Lewis, Mr. Kelly and I was hoping you could answer those questions for us.”

Mark tried to swallow past the lump in his throat as he walked into his destroyed home. He turned in circles in the middle of the room, incredulous at the callous violation of his life. He hung his head.

“Mr. Kelly? Do you know who would do this to you? Mr. Kelly?”

He turned to the detective, shaking his head.

“You’re just getting home. Where have you been?”

“F-Fresno. Visiting my parents.”

“When did you leave town?”

“Wednesday.”

“Who knew you were leaving town?”

“My job. And my brother, but he was with me.”

“No one else?”

“No. I didn’t talk to -”

Mark clenched his fists as realization dawned on him.

Yvonne knew.

********

Who vandalized Mark’s condo? Yvonne?

To be continued…

 

Part IPart II   |  Part IIIPart IV  |  Part V  |

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#My52 “Captive Heart, Part V”

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#My52 – Week 19

Word Prompt – home

Word Count – 763

Reading Time – 3 mins, 21 secs

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Mark smiled as he stepped out of the Tahoe.

Home.

The chaos of his world always disappeared when he went home.

It didn’t matter home was no longer the three-bedroom home in the cul-de-sac on Highview Avenue in Altadena. His home was wherever his parents were and that would never change.

After retiring, Charles and Trudy Kelly gave up urban life for quieter climes just outside Fresno. Only four homes sat on Old Spanish Trail Road and the Kelly’s owned the last one on the end, at the edge of the woods.

Prentiss exited the vehicle, walking around the front to stand next to his brother.

“Why does this always feel so good?”

Mark chuckled.

“‘Cuz we’re kids again and Mama and Pop will make everything right?”

Slapping his brother on the back, Prentiss nodded. “Exactly.”

They looked up as the front door opened. Charles and Trudy walked down the pathway to greet them looking a decade younger than a couple in their mid-sixties.

At just over six-feet tall, Charles was shorter than both his sons, but his brawn was equal to theirs and showed no signs of softening with age. He’d given up the corporate look of close-cropped hair and a clean-shaven face and now shaved his head and wore a two-day growth beard.

His wife of forty-two years walked at his side; her five-feet nine-inch stature almost regal. Her salt and pepper block braids were wrapped atop her head like a crown.

And as always, they held hands.

“C’mon kiddo. Let’s go see if Mama and Pop can work their special brand of Kelly magic and right your world.”

Mark grinned, following his brother up the pathway, but he couldn’t ignore the niggling feeling of dread creeping up the back of his neck.

“So, just like that, she demanded you marry her? Like she’s the queen of the planet?”

Trudy stroked her husband’s arm. “Calm down, CJ. It could have been worse.”

“I don’t see how it-”

“She could have shown up with a minister and a shotgun.”

Prentiss roared with laughter, and Mark and Charles chuckled despite the gravity of the situation.

Trudy’s expression sobered.

“Mark Allen, if you’re positive you’re the father of this child, there’s no question you’ll be a responsible father and provider. That’s just who you are. But I don’t understand why she wants marriage. It’s not something you do on a whim. Being a parent is a big responsibility, but being a spouse is hard work.”

“Am I that much work, Gertrude?”

She grinned and kissed his cheek. “Honey, you are a full-time job and overtime on the weekends.”

“TMI! TMI! Children in the room.”

Prentiss threw his hands up over his face while Mark squeezed his eyes shut.

“What children? You see any children, Trudy?”

“No, but I see two grown men on the other side of thirty.”

Grabbing his chest, Prentiss feigned injury. “Dang, Mama. Direct hit.”

She waved him off addressing Mark.

“All I’m saying is marriage is a lifetime commitment that too many don’t take seriously. Back in our day and the days of our parents, if a young woman got pregnant, there had to be a wedding to remove the shame and keep family dignity. Of course, it didn’t, and they shamed some women the rest of their lives… even the men who got them pregnant and married them.

“Things aren’t like that now, but women still pay a harsher price than men, because it’s too easy for them to walk away. But that’s not the kind of son we raised, and as long as Yvonne will work with you for the child’s benefit, I see no reason for either of you to lock yourself into a marriage that doesn’t have a strong foundation of love, trust, and honesty.”

“Okay, Okay, Mama. I get it. I understand.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Thank you. You still give the best lectures around. But marriage isn’t on the list right now. I still need to confirm Yvonne’s pregnancy. I’ve had too many friends—male and female—freak out over home pregnancy tests that were wrong.”

“I ask her to make an appointment next week with a reputable doctor and text me the details. I plan to be there.”

Charles and Trudy exchanged surprised glances before Trudy responded.

“Explain to us again why you needed our input?”

Mark held out his upturned hands, fingers splayed. “Um. That’s the extent of my plan.”

Charles slid to the edge of the sofa, leaning toward his youngest son. “We’ve talked all around the subject so I’m just going to ask the question.” Concern was etched deep in his furrowed brow. “You said marriage isn’t on the list right now but is it something you’re considering? Son, do you want to marry Yvonne?”

********

Mark’s dad didn’t pull any punches, but what will Mark’s answer be?

To be continued…

 

Part IPart II   |  Part IIIPart IV  |

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#My52 “Captive Heart, Part IV”

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#My52 – Week 18

Word Prompt – draft

Word Count – 1174

Reading Time – 6 mins, 28 secs

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“What?”

“You heard me. Yvonne’s pregnant.”

Prentiss scrubbed his hand across his stubbled jaw then gulped his draft beer.

“Not what I was expecting for dinner conversation.”

“And not what I had planned.”

“Uh, what? Just when did you find out? What had you planned to talk about?”

Mark Kelly folded his arms and leaned on the table.

“To answer your first question, thirty minutes ago. And the second, I have the next five days free and wanted to know if you could get the time off too and drive up to Fresno with me.”

“Whoa, whoa! Back up. You found out thirty minutes ago?”

Mark hung his head and took a deep breath before answering.

“After we confirmed dinner, I went home to change. Yvonne was waiting for me.”

Prentiss signaled their server for another round.

His brother frowned.

“Slow down, man. We’re both driving.”

“I know, I know.” He emptied his glass and set it aside. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around this… this ambush by your girlfriend. Besides. Uber is just a phone call away.”

“Yeah, ambush is a good way to describe it, but she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Please. Since when?”

“We argued close to a month ago.” He averted his eyes. “Haven’t talked since.”

“And you didn’t think to share this tidbit with your brother?” He threw his hands up in the air just as the server arrived with fresh drinks. He took a large gulp.

“Damn, man. I’m gonna be drunk on my ass at this rate.” He reached for the glass again, but Mark pushed it out of his reach.

“How about we order some dinner before you finish that? You need to eat something.”

Annoyed, Prentiss sat back in his seat. “No, what I need is to understand why my brother’s life is going to hell quick, fast, and in a hurry.”

“You and me both.”

Mark opened his menu, pretending to be engrossed in his meal options.

Watching his brother, Prentiss smirked. “This reminds of the time you cracked my skateboard and hid it until you worked up the nerve to tell me.”

He sobered when Mark lowered the menu and he sawed his pained expression.

“Talk to me, man. You look like something’s eating you from the inside.”

Dropping his menu on the table, Mark emptied his first Seven & Seven before reaching for the fresh one.

“That’s just anger, man.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“Well, Yvonne didn’t show up with smiles or the glow of impending motherhood. She was livid, full of attitude, and told me I was going to marry her.”

Prentiss’ mouth gaped open as he fell back in his chair.

 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Mark. I’m pregnant and we’re getting married.”

“No. We’re not.”

“Yes, we-”

He cut her off. “Just a few ago, if you’d told me you’re pregnant, I would have been on my knees begging you to marry me. Those days are gone.”

“If you think I’m going to be some single mother worn to a frazzle trying to raise a kid on my own, you’re-”

“I will provide for my child. That goes without saying. But I don’t have to marry you to do that.”

“We’re a package deal, Kelly, you don’t get to be a daddy without me.”

“A package deal? You sound like a used car salesman.”

“Save the jokes, Mark, this is serious. My parents are arranging for a small ceremony, and-”

He snapped. “What the hell?”

“Don’t you yell-”

“We broke up three weeks ago… over money and-”

“We did not break up.”

He raised his hand and pointed at her.

“You said if I didn’t transfer the money to pay back your dad not to bother calling you again.”

“Oh, I knew you were just all in your male feelings. Men are such big babies, but I have no more time for that bullshit when I’m having a real baby. We have to get married.”

He dropped his arms to his sides but his clenched fists proved the rage he tried to contain.

“Again, you sound like a used car salesman trying to sell a car to an idiot.”

“Now look-”

“No highlighting the amenities… we’re going to be parents; we’ll have our own little family; no ‘I love you, Mark.’” He gestured toward her. “You haven’t even told me how far along you are.”

“Oh, my God. You sound like a starry-eyed girl. I peed on a stick, big whoop. Men don’t care about the details-”

“Some men don’t. But I do and the fact you don’t know that means you don’t know me and I’ve wasted four years of my life with you.”

“Now I’m a waste of time? Seriously, Mark, how could you be so heartless and cruel?” Yvonne turned away.

“I guess the last four years weren’t a complete loss, I learned heartless and cruel from the best… and don’t even think about turning on the waterworks.”

She whirled around to face him. “Feel better, Mark? Are you over your little show of bravado, because we are getting married.”

A wave of sadness washed over him taking the remnants of their future with it. For twenty years, she was all he ever wanted. Now he understood. His brother was right. He was fascinated… and obsessed with what Yvonne represented. His dream girl.

“Earlier today, I thought about us and thought perhaps I’d been too hard on you. Maybe I hadn’t sacrificed enough for the woman I loved.”

Her face brightened.

He backed up toward his condo. “But that was just longing for something I’ve never had with you, a healthy, loving relationship.”

“Don’t you walk away from-”

“I have to meet someone and I’m running late-”

“Mark, don’t you-”

“… and then I’ll be out-of-town for a few days.”

“I’m warning you-”

“You’re going to make a doctor’s appointment for a real pregnancy test and text me the details. I’ll meet you there.”

“This is all just a waste of time when we should talk to my parents about the wedding.”

“No.”

“Why are you being like this? We should be making plans for the future.”

“That’s what I’m doing, Yvonne because regardless of the tests, we’re never getting married.”

 

When he didn’t continue, Prentiss let out a long, low whistle.

“Don’t stop there. What happened? What did she say?”

Mark cringed. “Not sure. I walked away. But, it involved a lot of yelling and swearing. I went inside, washed up, shook out my dreads, and found a clean shirt. When I came back out, she was gone.”

“Damn, bro. What are you going to do?”

“My plans haven’t changed. I’m going to Fresno and I’d like to have my brother along for the ride to sing 90s songs loud and off-key.”

Prentiss chuckled.

“Yvonne told her parents about the baby and got them involved before she told me. Time to get our parents involved. You in?”

Prentiss’ lips twitched into a smug grin. “Sounds like a road trip to me, little brother.”

********

Mark and Yvonne had their face-time and it didn’t go well. He stood his ground but Yvonne always gets her way.

To be continued…

 

Part IPart II   |  Part III  |

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