Halloween Lovers
a short story by Diana Weeks
The idea of visiting an old cemetery was Kyle’s and it was their first date. Joyce was skeptical. Why do you want to go there? Kyle dropped his head. “My Grandmother died last month and I promised to keep flowers on her grave. It won’t take long and then we can go to the party your friends are having. I want to meet all your friends because you look darling in your doctor’s costume”. This appeased Joyce...
Joyce looked around “I don’t see any flowers”.
“I thought we’d drive by a Kroger. There’s a vase already there because she was buried next to Grandpa so their double headstone is up...
Grandpa picked the best flower from his garden everyday, he put it in a crystal bud vase he gave her the first Christmas they were married in 1952..It was kept in her kitchen window over the sink. And she’d give him a bodacious kiss so mushy my Mom would say “Mother, not in front of the children”.
Joyce was touched… that this leather clothed motorcycle riding tough guy talked about such sweet family feelings. Joyce had run to the window when she heard the throbbing cycle motor stop outside. Her mother looked and turned white. “That thug must have gotten lost from his, from his, Hell’s Angels gang!”
“Mother, he’s a very nice guy, don’t be so judgmental.”
“Oh yeah, where did you meet him?” She stood with her hands on her hips and made Joyce feel five years old.
Joyce’s mind whirled…do I tell the truth or lie?”
“Well…answer me.”
“In the grocery store…last week when you sent me to buy bread because Dad forgot.”
Her mother walled her eyes and held on to her hips until her finger tips pressed into her tummy. “What department? I want details”.
“He was looking at the steaks”. Joyce stopped there and left out… in the mark down nook where she was looking for lamb. He joked with the butcher and said to me” The butcher ought to wear a blue bandana to hide his face. He can’t even look me in the eye.”
I couldn’t resist answering “He would if you smiled at him”. Kyle laughed and smiled at the butcher and got a smile back. “Just for that he told me “I’ll buy one for you, we’ll grill em at the park this weekend.”
“Oh heaven help me…Joyce, you’re in love! She looks out the window. Her mother presses her hands against her heart and takes deep breaths…and says a quick soft “Hello” and left the room at a run to get her husband.
“I’m sorry you have to meet both my parents” Joyce whispered.
“Heck…” he gave her a ‘You can trust me” smile. “I want to meet them”…Joyce wanted to hug and kiss him right there.
The cemetery was very dark. But as soon as they got parked, he pulls out the biggest flash light Joyce had ever seen, hands her the yellow tulips and took her free hand. They started walking towards the darker wooded section. They stopped behind a large hedge and heard a low giggle. Kyle pulls Joyce behind it,. “That’s Grandma?!”
A ghostly male voice speaks as Joyce squats to sit on the ground…”Darling I’m so longing to hold you”. Kyle curiously peeks over the hedge and whispers “It’s them”. They hear the ghosts breathing softly at first, then harder and faster…then the sound of the spirits falling easily to the ground…”Darling, it’s king sized…let me help you off with your dress…” A soft female voice...”…It lifts up you know.”
Kyle squeezed her hand…”I think we better leave them alone…I’ve got a blanket in my saddle bag…I don’t want you to get grass stains on your white coat…we’ll come back later with the flowers. I want to get to know you! Did I mention that I’ve heard you sing at Jane’s Place….I was in the patio but you made my heart jump. Did you really write that beautiful song?”
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
THE END
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Mother's Funny Halloween
Mother's Funny Halloween
A short story by Diana Weeks
I had been feeding a stray Halloween orange and black calico cat on the sly for two weeks …I got caught when I used the last of Mothers’ coffee cream…only because we were out of milk.
The back kitchen door bangs open…her “Greatest Mom” coffee mug splashed black coffee on her hand…and made her howl …in her rush to find me…Mother points with her elbows, hands on her hips, “Betty, is that a cat?”
I tried to lie my third grade… troubles away. “The cat just turned up hungry this morning… I was afraid she was going to starve to death.” I rambled on tenderly stroking the cat’s silky back. My red headed brother Steve, who’s ten and thinks he owns the world, looks out the kitchen door…watching Mother give me “the magnet look” that grabs and holds on.
Mother walks around me. “What’s her name?”
“Princess” I blurted. “Feel how soft she is.”
Steve proclaims… “Caught red handed” and goes back in. Mother comes over and pets Princess…and picks her up. “This cat is probably just lost…her family may be walking down the alley now”…Mother put her hand around an ear “Yes…here kitty kitty”…as she’s walking toward the back alley.
“I know Daddy doesn’t want us to have cats… ever since he accidently rolled over the neighbor’s “…but Princes’ll stay in the back yard and Daddy won’t even know she’s here.” Mother puts her down on the ground and Princess runs away up the alley.
“She’ll come back”. Mother takes my hand. “You don’t find cats…cats find you. Don’t ever ever …let her in the house…” Mother ordered. “This afternoon we’ll fix a box for her under the back porch… get ready for school”
I might have gotten away with a secret pet…Daddy runs a grocery store and leaves before we wake up and comes home after we’re asleep…He is too tired to complain.
@#$%^&(*_+ my Princess sneaked in and had a litter of six kittens in my parents closet…and best of all…it happened on the next Saturday and we got to watch the last three kittens come out. It was so exciting.
Daddy came home for lunch and was greeted by my little sister Kimberly… who told him she discovered our cat having kittens and took his hand and pulled him to his closet. “I didn’t know what was happening” she explained “but I saw blood”.
“Debora!” Daddy called. Mother came in and gave him a hug…and a long kiss.
“Isn’t it great …they’re getting to learn about life…just like you did living on a farm”.
Daddy had helped us move Princess and her still wet kittens…to my closet. He barely gave me time to get my ballet shoes out of the way. I heard Mother tell him several times…just till they’re weened”...And give him a deep kiss. Mother thought I couldn’t see them.
. …Finally, its Halloween my favorite holiday and Mother is baking cookies to give trick or treaters. She let us eat two each right out of the oven.
Mother didn’t believe in buying Halloween costumes. “What fun is that? You all get to create your own costumes. You can be whoever you want to be”.
“Can I be a ghost? I found the sheet” Steve waved it in my face and threw it over Kim’s head.
“Steve, you were a ghost last year. This year you can be really scary…a mummy” then she laughed her cackling “witch” laugh and started tearing the sheet into long strips and wrapping them around Steve’s limbs taping the ends with scotch tape. I stepped on strips as they fell rounding on the floor. …Kim joined me stomping. Steve yelled. “Mother make them stop getting my costume dirty”.
“Thank you girls, you don’t want it clean… a mummy has just raised-up-out-of-the-dark ground… he’s been scratching upward from the grave.”
I joined Mother’s movements sing songing “The mummy’s mad with anger about his dirty finger nails…”
We were all laughing when Daddy came in from their bedroom with one of his house slippers in his hand…extended toward us. “Smell this…all my shoes smell like piss.”
Mother smiled. “I’ll have the closet all cleaned out when you get home tonight”.
“I can tell by that determined look…” teased Daddy kissing her goodbye. We waved his 65 ford along. When he was out of sight…Mother pulled us into a huddle.
“Six lucky kids… who come here… to our house… for trick or treat will win …their very own little kitten” Mother jumped her cheerleader dance. “Yea, let’s hear it…I’ll tie a sweet bow around each neck…blue for boys and pink for girls…if we can tell. Steve speaks out…”in my Boy Scout book.”
Mother becomes director of our annual Halloween show. “Steve you go down and scare the kids over to us…I spoke up. “Especially … groups with no adult tagging along”.
Kim put on Bet’s pink ballet tutu…you can pass out the cookies.”
“Betty you can get our laundry basket for the kittens….the basket that’s short enough for them to peek over and look cute. And Betty…you my blond golden girl. can be the judge…you can pick out the winners”.
Until she said that… I was going to cry to keep all the kittens.. I could advise each child who got a kitten…to cross their heart and hope to die… promise to take good care of their new pet.. Honestly I was glad Mother thought of this…I felt so powerful getting to pick winners.
The third “treat” kitten given away was tearfully returned. “If Dad had been driving our group around tonight I could have kept “Frisky”. I’d already named her”. Kim gave her two cookies.
The next gaggling group of five …had two screeching girl twins…dressed as bats…black bats…each won a kitten. And a boy my age smiled and said he’d always wanted a cat to give his mom for her birthday tomorrow. “Go on” Mother laughed.
I had on Mother’s old white waitress uniform that was this years nursing uniform…with a red cross printed on my paper folded nurse hat. I got to use my toy hypodermic to give shots to the boys my age. What a great Halloween.
THE END
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
A short story by Diana Weeks
I had been feeding a stray Halloween orange and black calico cat on the sly for two weeks …I got caught when I used the last of Mothers’ coffee cream…only because we were out of milk.
The back kitchen door bangs open…her “Greatest Mom” coffee mug splashed black coffee on her hand…and made her howl …in her rush to find me…Mother points with her elbows, hands on her hips, “Betty, is that a cat?”
I tried to lie my third grade… troubles away. “The cat just turned up hungry this morning… I was afraid she was going to starve to death.” I rambled on tenderly stroking the cat’s silky back. My red headed brother Steve, who’s ten and thinks he owns the world, looks out the kitchen door…watching Mother give me “the magnet look” that grabs and holds on.
Mother walks around me. “What’s her name?”
“Princess” I blurted. “Feel how soft she is.”
Steve proclaims… “Caught red handed” and goes back in. Mother comes over and pets Princess…and picks her up. “This cat is probably just lost…her family may be walking down the alley now”…Mother put her hand around an ear “Yes…here kitty kitty”…as she’s walking toward the back alley.
“I know Daddy doesn’t want us to have cats… ever since he accidently rolled over the neighbor’s “…but Princes’ll stay in the back yard and Daddy won’t even know she’s here.” Mother puts her down on the ground and Princess runs away up the alley.
“She’ll come back”. Mother takes my hand. “You don’t find cats…cats find you. Don’t ever ever …let her in the house…” Mother ordered. “This afternoon we’ll fix a box for her under the back porch… get ready for school”
I might have gotten away with a secret pet…Daddy runs a grocery store and leaves before we wake up and comes home after we’re asleep…He is too tired to complain.
@#$%^&(*_+ my Princess sneaked in and had a litter of six kittens in my parents closet…and best of all…it happened on the next Saturday and we got to watch the last three kittens come out. It was so exciting.
Daddy came home for lunch and was greeted by my little sister Kimberly… who told him she discovered our cat having kittens and took his hand and pulled him to his closet. “I didn’t know what was happening” she explained “but I saw blood”.
“Debora!” Daddy called. Mother came in and gave him a hug…and a long kiss.
“Isn’t it great …they’re getting to learn about life…just like you did living on a farm”.
Daddy had helped us move Princess and her still wet kittens…to my closet. He barely gave me time to get my ballet shoes out of the way. I heard Mother tell him several times…just till they’re weened”...And give him a deep kiss. Mother thought I couldn’t see them.
. …Finally, its Halloween my favorite holiday and Mother is baking cookies to give trick or treaters. She let us eat two each right out of the oven.
Mother didn’t believe in buying Halloween costumes. “What fun is that? You all get to create your own costumes. You can be whoever you want to be”.
“Can I be a ghost? I found the sheet” Steve waved it in my face and threw it over Kim’s head.
“Steve, you were a ghost last year. This year you can be really scary…a mummy” then she laughed her cackling “witch” laugh and started tearing the sheet into long strips and wrapping them around Steve’s limbs taping the ends with scotch tape. I stepped on strips as they fell rounding on the floor. …Kim joined me stomping. Steve yelled. “Mother make them stop getting my costume dirty”.
“Thank you girls, you don’t want it clean… a mummy has just raised-up-out-of-the-dark ground… he’s been scratching upward from the grave.”
I joined Mother’s movements sing songing “The mummy’s mad with anger about his dirty finger nails…”
We were all laughing when Daddy came in from their bedroom with one of his house slippers in his hand…extended toward us. “Smell this…all my shoes smell like piss.”
Mother smiled. “I’ll have the closet all cleaned out when you get home tonight”.
“I can tell by that determined look…” teased Daddy kissing her goodbye. We waved his 65 ford along. When he was out of sight…Mother pulled us into a huddle.
“Six lucky kids… who come here… to our house… for trick or treat will win …their very own little kitten” Mother jumped her cheerleader dance. “Yea, let’s hear it…I’ll tie a sweet bow around each neck…blue for boys and pink for girls…if we can tell. Steve speaks out…”in my Boy Scout book.”
Mother becomes director of our annual Halloween show. “Steve you go down and scare the kids over to us…I spoke up. “Especially … groups with no adult tagging along”.
Kim put on Bet’s pink ballet tutu…you can pass out the cookies.”
“Betty you can get our laundry basket for the kittens….the basket that’s short enough for them to peek over and look cute. And Betty…you my blond golden girl. can be the judge…you can pick out the winners”.
Until she said that… I was going to cry to keep all the kittens.. I could advise each child who got a kitten…to cross their heart and hope to die… promise to take good care of their new pet.. Honestly I was glad Mother thought of this…I felt so powerful getting to pick winners.
The third “treat” kitten given away was tearfully returned. “If Dad had been driving our group around tonight I could have kept “Frisky”. I’d already named her”. Kim gave her two cookies.
The next gaggling group of five …had two screeching girl twins…dressed as bats…black bats…each won a kitten. And a boy my age smiled and said he’d always wanted a cat to give his mom for her birthday tomorrow. “Go on” Mother laughed.
I had on Mother’s old white waitress uniform that was this years nursing uniform…with a red cross printed on my paper folded nurse hat. I got to use my toy hypodermic to give shots to the boys my age. What a great Halloween.
THE END
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Driving Lesson
Driving Lesson
a short story by Diana Weeks
"I can learn how to drive!” I thoughtfully celebrated when I woke up on my fourteenth birthday. I had requested a driving lesson as a gift from Daddy. It had been my secret wish when I blew out the candles on my party cake last year.
We lived close to bus lines and hadn’t had a car until after the war, when Uncle Buddy sold Daddy his 1940 Chevy. Bud decided to re-up in the Navy when his wife Ruby left him for a 4F-er who drove a Cadillac.
I could understand Aunt Ruby. I loved cars. My favorite game was identifying makes, model, and year, driving on Berry, the busy street a block away. I got many right, even from that distance.
As soon as Daddy put down his empty coffee cup beside his yoke-stained breakfast plate, I told him I was ready for my driving lesson. He laughed, like he’d hoped I’d forgotten.
I was lucky it was Sunday. Dad was off work from the print shop, and mad at our preacher for starting a building fund and expecting Daddy to sign up for monthly payments. Daddy was on strike against money-hungry Baptists.
Before Daddy would even let me get in the garaged sedan, he raised the hood and showed me the battery, radiator, surrounding hoses, and spark plugs. I bounced on my toes screaming inside “Let’s go!” But no, he showed me how to check the air in the tires with a fountain pen air gauge. Inside I was jumping.
Daddy smiled. “Well, get in!” I bolted for the driver door.
“No,” he strained not to yell. “Let me back us out of the driveway, and drive us where there’s not much traffic.”
“There’s no traffic here on our street,” I said smiling. He backed the vehicle and parked by the curb. Then he slowly exchanged places with me. His face flashed “I’m going to the dentist” fear. Thank goodness I had reached my full height, five foot three. My feet reached the pedals.
Daddy explained the horizontal right pedal was the gas, always to be respected. The clutch is tricky, he explained. It is for changing gears without killing the motor. Reverse is in the far corner of the invisible “H” pattern for the gears. There’s a special quarter-size silver button on the left side of the floor to tap to turn up and down the headlights high beams. By the brake pedal and the emergency brake handle.
I knew how to drive in my mind. Why was he boring me with all this? I did fine with turning on the key and pressing the starter which purred. I slowly pressed in the clutch and gently let it out while pressing on the gas pedal and shifting to first. The Chevy rolled backward. It was a perfect reverse execution. Dad started breathing again.
I turned right on Berry Street and shifted into second, and then to third. Wow, this is so easy. This is more fun than boys! Out of nowhere, a red truck streaked in front of me. “EEEK!” I hit the break so hard, the car jumped and stopped.
I got it started again, just as the light changed to green. But my smooth maneuvers, letting the clutch out and pressing the accelerator, didn’t mesh. The car bucked like a horse. I took my foot off the brake, and the car rolled back and hit a blue 1950 Buick. The whack sounded like a bonk. Oh no, the lady driver wore a purple hat.
Daddy was out of the car, seeing if everyone was all right. Cars stopped around us. I got out to look at the car I hit, and our back bumper, and it all looked fine. The thick chrome bumpers saved both vehicles from damage. I apologized and turned back to the driver’s seat, but it was occupied by Daddy.
“We’ll try again next year,” Daddy told me.
“Next year? That’s forever! I’ll be dead by next year. Or at least you will be,” I thought. But I didn’t say a word. Walking back in the house, I was mentally making a list of every neighbor, relative, and friend who might trade a driving lesson for a car wash.
THE END
© 2009, Diana Weeks
ALL RIGHT RESERVED
a short story by Diana Weeks
"I can learn how to drive!” I thoughtfully celebrated when I woke up on my fourteenth birthday. I had requested a driving lesson as a gift from Daddy. It had been my secret wish when I blew out the candles on my party cake last year.
We lived close to bus lines and hadn’t had a car until after the war, when Uncle Buddy sold Daddy his 1940 Chevy. Bud decided to re-up in the Navy when his wife Ruby left him for a 4F-er who drove a Cadillac.
I could understand Aunt Ruby. I loved cars. My favorite game was identifying makes, model, and year, driving on Berry, the busy street a block away. I got many right, even from that distance.
As soon as Daddy put down his empty coffee cup beside his yoke-stained breakfast plate, I told him I was ready for my driving lesson. He laughed, like he’d hoped I’d forgotten.
I was lucky it was Sunday. Dad was off work from the print shop, and mad at our preacher for starting a building fund and expecting Daddy to sign up for monthly payments. Daddy was on strike against money-hungry Baptists.
Before Daddy would even let me get in the garaged sedan, he raised the hood and showed me the battery, radiator, surrounding hoses, and spark plugs. I bounced on my toes screaming inside “Let’s go!” But no, he showed me how to check the air in the tires with a fountain pen air gauge. Inside I was jumping.
Daddy smiled. “Well, get in!” I bolted for the driver door.
“No,” he strained not to yell. “Let me back us out of the driveway, and drive us where there’s not much traffic.”
“There’s no traffic here on our street,” I said smiling. He backed the vehicle and parked by the curb. Then he slowly exchanged places with me. His face flashed “I’m going to the dentist” fear. Thank goodness I had reached my full height, five foot three. My feet reached the pedals.
Daddy explained the horizontal right pedal was the gas, always to be respected. The clutch is tricky, he explained. It is for changing gears without killing the motor. Reverse is in the far corner of the invisible “H” pattern for the gears. There’s a special quarter-size silver button on the left side of the floor to tap to turn up and down the headlights high beams. By the brake pedal and the emergency brake handle.
I knew how to drive in my mind. Why was he boring me with all this? I did fine with turning on the key and pressing the starter which purred. I slowly pressed in the clutch and gently let it out while pressing on the gas pedal and shifting to first. The Chevy rolled backward. It was a perfect reverse execution. Dad started breathing again.
I turned right on Berry Street and shifted into second, and then to third. Wow, this is so easy. This is more fun than boys! Out of nowhere, a red truck streaked in front of me. “EEEK!” I hit the break so hard, the car jumped and stopped.
I got it started again, just as the light changed to green. But my smooth maneuvers, letting the clutch out and pressing the accelerator, didn’t mesh. The car bucked like a horse. I took my foot off the brake, and the car rolled back and hit a blue 1950 Buick. The whack sounded like a bonk. Oh no, the lady driver wore a purple hat.
Daddy was out of the car, seeing if everyone was all right. Cars stopped around us. I got out to look at the car I hit, and our back bumper, and it all looked fine. The thick chrome bumpers saved both vehicles from damage. I apologized and turned back to the driver’s seat, but it was occupied by Daddy.
“We’ll try again next year,” Daddy told me.
“Next year? That’s forever! I’ll be dead by next year. Or at least you will be,” I thought. But I didn’t say a word. Walking back in the house, I was mentally making a list of every neighbor, relative, and friend who might trade a driving lesson for a car wash.
THE END
© 2009, Diana Weeks
ALL RIGHT RESERVED
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)