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THE PERFECT DAY: The Day I Got Everything DoneHey all, Wow... long time no write... my deepest apologies for not writing or visiting or commenting! I hope to do some visiting soon. Life's been crazy! I was waiting to share this with you until I found out the results of the TOS's short story writing contest. I entered the following story, but didn't win. Thanks,
THE PERFECT DAY: The Day I Got Everything Done The moon shone brightly through the window, gently resting upon the weary face of a mother. She laid silently in bed watching as the clock ticked slowly and both hands approached the twelve, ending another Monday. Glancing over at her sleeping husband a tear rolled silently past her ear to the pillow. “Why?” She thought to herself. “Why can’t I ever get it all done?” She had asked this question a hundred times, to herself, to her friends, to her forgiving husband, and still no answer. “Tomorrow is a new day.” She thought positively. “I’m not going to be a Nobody; I’m going to be a Somebody. And I am going to get everything done, no matter what it takes.” She rolled over and grabbed the notebook on her night stand. Searching for a writing utensil her fingers stumbled upon a broken crayon. She leaned further into the moon light and began writing: To Do List for Tuesday: Excited and eager to fulfill her plan, she flopped the notebook back on her night stand and tossed the crayon beyond the foot of the bed. Before she could think of anything else she closed her eyes and was fast asleep. “BZZZZ!” The annoying sound roused her at “What? Have I been sitting here for two minutes already?” She quickly headed to the bathroom, sweats in hand. After changing and throwing her blonde locks in a pony tail, she hurried to the cluttered living room. Flipping on the lights, she groaned. “At least the treadmill hadn’t been used in part of ‘the fort.’” She flipped the radio on, hopped on the machine, and started out with a mild jog. Wanting to make sure she got her fifteen minutes in she looked at the clock across the room. It read She had three minutes to go when a blonde head peeked around the corner. “Hey Mommy,” the groggy voice mumbled, “whatcha doing?” “I’m exercising, Sweetie. What are you doing up so early?” she panted, out of breath. “I just woke up.” The little five year old plopped herself at the table. “I’m hungry. Can you make some breakfast?” Determined to accomplish what she had set out to do, she disregarded her daughter’s question, looked down at the digital figures, and kept walking. So far she’d burned approximately 130 calories. Eating breakfast would surely nullify her last fifteen minutes. “We could have a party, just us two!” Her daughter’s voice had perked up along with her body. “Not now. I’m busy. Go wake up Jill, or Samantha. Tell them, ‘Mommy said.’” Winded she stepped off the treadmill. Sweat was building on her forehead, but she smiled with determination. Feeling a tad light headed walking back to her bedroom she paused to lean against the wall. Soon, however, she was crossing off the first item on her list. “I’m going to take a shower, Hope.” She spoke to the little girl still sitting at the table, her head resting on her folded arms. “I’ll get one of your sisters to come up here and make you some breakfast, OK?” “K,” Hope mumbled, not moving an inch. “Girls, time to get up!” She flipped on the light and started tugging at blankets. Three sleeping lumps simultaneously moaned as each held tight to her covers. “Jill, go fix some breakfast for Hope. She’s upstairs waiting.” She patted her twelve year old on the back. “Sam, you get the living room straightened up. I’ve got a lot to do today.” She rustled her ten year old daughter’s sandy hair. A grunt followed by more moaning from the other side of the room indicated that it was only “Up, Marissa!” She responded to her seventeen year old daughter before making her way to the boys’ room. “Rise and shine boys!” She said, flipping on their lights. “The garbage needs to be taken out, Kyle.” Her fifteen year old son groaned. “Brent, make sure all the bathrooms get cleaned this morning.” Her thirteen year old son squinted at her. “And Peter,” she whispered in her seven year old son’s ear, “you help Sam get the living room back in order.” After a hot shower she hurried upstairs to cross it off ‘the list.’ Two down, and only thirteen more to go. “Good morning, Honey!” Her husband said, rolling out of bed. “Why you’re up awful early. It’s only “Yup! I’m going to get everything done today, continuing with washing these sheets.” She yanked at the covers and pulled off the pillow cases. While heading to the laundry room with an arm load of sheets, clothes, and towels gathered from here there and everywhere she perceived that she was in high demand. “Mom!” said Brent. “Mommy!” said Peter. “Hey, Mom?” asked Jill. “Good Morning, Mom.” said Samantha. “Hi, Mommy!” said Hope. “Sorry kids, I have to start some laundry and get school corrected. Why don’t you all get dressed, make your beds, and finish picking up the living room. ‘The fort’ must be taken apart too. Peter. Samantha.” She looked at them squarely as she passed through the room. Seventeen minutes later she was working away at the stack of text books, red pen in one hand, and the answer key in the other. “Could I check my E-mail, Mom?” Marissa asked, sauntering to the desk in her pajamas. “I just sat down! Not now.” She said, determined not to get behind. “Have a good day at work, Honey!” She hollered as her husband walked out the door. “Marissa, I woke you up,” she looked at the clock, “nearly an hour ago. Why aren’t you dressed yet?”
Marissa had a puzzled expression as she turned to go back down to her room. “Good morning to you too.” She mumbled under her breath. As the morning drug on, she crossed more and more things off her list. The afternoon went much the same. Her children would ask questions, make comments, beg for her attention, but she stayed focused on ‘the list.’ Pretty soon she had the vacuuming done, both bathrooms cleaned… correctly (Brent obviously wasn’t a perfectionist), the kitchen floor washed, and the bills paid. With just three things left, she was feeling pretty confident. “I’m running to the grocery store to get some milk, guys. Be good. I’ll be back shortly.” She grabbed her purse and dug around for her keys as she headed for the door. “Hey Mom,” Kyle asked sweetly, as only fifteen year old boys can. “May I drive you? I’m supposed to have a bunch of hours of driving in before I take Drivers Education in the summer.” “Kyle,” She paused, as if she were actually contemplating the idea. “I – I just – I’ll be quicker if I go by myself. Maybe another time. OK?” She patted his drooped shoulders and shut the door behind her. Soon she had 5 gallons of milk, two pounds of butter, three loaves of bread, and a few frozen pizzas put away. She quickly crossed out another item leaving only two left. Heading for the unruly game closet she called out for runners. But by this time, even reluctant help was hard to find. Her children were avoiding her as much as possible; they obviously hadn’t understood her mission of completing ‘the list.’ The game closet was finally under control around “Can you read this to me, Mommy?” Her littlest daughter asked, placing a Winnie-the-Pooh favorite on her lap. “Oh, I’m sorry, Hope. I have to read my own book right now.” She held up a brand new ‘child training’ book. “You look like you could use a rest. Why don’t you go lay down on my bed for a little bit.” “Could you come sleep with me?” Hope grabbed her mother’s hand and tried to pull her out of the chair she’d settled in. “Hope, I can’t right now. You go lay down.” She pointed to the bedroom with one hand while opening her book with the other. She eventually blocked out her little girl’s whimpers, and ended up reading for a whole hour. With a smile on her face, she crossed out the last remaining item on ‘the list.’ Glancing at the clock she was ecstatic to see that it was only “Jill, could you massage my shoulders? I’m going to watch a little TV.” She said, upon reaching the living room. She switched on the set and sat on the sofa. “Hey Sam, want to lotion my feet?” She looked around for her children. Usually, they would have been more than willing to pamper her, because they loved her so much and that also meant getting to stay up past their bed time. Not tonight, however. “Uh,” Jill faked a yawn. “My hands are a little tired; I think I’ll go to bed.” Before her mother could reply she was out of the room and down the stairs. Samantha looked up from the book she’d been flipping through. “Yeah, I am kind of tired too. I hope you get some good sleep tonight, Mom.” She put the book on the bookshelf and hurried after her sister. “Peter?” she asked softly. “I’ll let you stay up…” Her voice trailed off. He was on his way downstairs too. In fact, one by one, each of her children headed to bed, without being told, without giving hugs, without blowing kisses, without even saying goodnight. In just moments she was alone, staring after her dear children. “… you didn’t hear a word I just said, and you obviously don’t care about anyone but yourself!” The angry voice of an obviously offended girlfriend brought her attention to the television. “Goodbye, Mr. Selfish Peter.” “SLAM!” She flinched as the door on the TV was thrown shut. Immediately, she turned it off. As she sat in silence she thought, “What just happened?” She suddenly felt as worthless and rejected as the boyfriend had looked just before terminating the program. Today was supposed to be her perfect day, the day she got everything done. Why then did she feel worthless, rejected, like she was a real Nobody. She picked up the notebook beside her. Bright green crayon read: To Do List for Tuesday. The following items were all crossed off, but it didn’t seem to matter now. She turned the page and noticed some sloppy handwriting. It read: I called your name, but you didn’t listen. Tears that had welled up after the first line were rolling down her cheeks. Heavy sobs shook her body. How could she have done this to her children? Why hadn’t she given them just a moment of her day? How did ‘the list’ get to be so much more important than spending time with and loving her children? She chucked the notebook across the room and buried her face in her hands. “Honey?” She could hear her husband’s voice. “Sweetheart?” Had he come home from work finally? Why was he whispering? Suddenly, his warm arms were wrapped around her. “Honey, wake up!” She heard him clearly now. “You must have been having a horrible dream. Are you alright, Sweetie?” She was startled. “What day is it? What time is it? The kids. Do they still love me?” He held her close, gently answering her questions. “It’s very early Tuesday morning, Dear. It’s not even She sat up and squinted through the lamp light into her husband’s eyes. Abruptly, she reached over to her night stand and grabbed the notebook, terrified of what she might find. She read, in green scribbled crayon: To Do List for Tuesday. Not a single item had been crossed off, she was thrilled. She looked at her husband with a smile that gradually became a troubled expression. The poem. She turned over the page. And read: I called your name, and you stopped to listen. Tears again moistened her eyes, but this time she was filled with peace, contentment, and joy. She scrambled to the foot of the bed, her husband staring after her. She was searching for something. Finally, she got on the floor, hands and knees, and started feeling around. “I found it!” she announced, holding up a broken green crayon. Still puzzled, and wondering if his wife wasn’t still sleeping, her husband looked on. She tore out the sheet with ‘the list’ on it, crumpled it up, and threw it clear out of the room. She then found a clean page and wrote at the top: *New* To Do List for Tuesday: With that done, she gently laid the notebook back in its place, and rolled over to look at her husband. She said, “Tomorrow is a new day. I’m not going to be a Nobody, because I’m already a Somebody. And I am going to get everything done, no matter what it takes.” With a smile on his face her husband turned off the lamp and they both fell fast asleep. "GRANDDAD'S FISHING BOAT"Hey Guys, I just got the response back from my instructor for my third assignment with the Institute of Children's Literature. Unlike my attempt at fiction/fantasy writing she really liked my non-fiction description of a moment I remembered from my childhood. That was exciting. My future may be in autobiographical stuff. LOL I am learning so much from this course. It's a blast! If you're interested in writing for children of any age, you MUST take this course. (I just thought I'd tell you that this Institute gets all FIVE STARS from me!) They even give you seven credits put toward any college upon completion. Anyways, enough rambling. I just wanted to share my little "story" descriptive moment with you guys. Tell me what you think. (My instructor already liked it, so the rest is icing. haha) God Bless!
GRANDDAD’S FISHING BOAT © 2006 I stepped off the slippery wood dock into Granddad’s large motor boat. We idled away from shore and into the deep green waters of I knelt by Granddad’s rusty metal tackle box, lifted the lid and peeked inside. The smell of rubber, plastic, and other artificial lures wafted out. Some lures were shiny silver, some were squishy rubber, some were long and droopy, and others had coarse black bristles that disguised the hook. I closed the partially rusted lid quietly. Granddad handed me a sticky night crawler from a rotten smelling carton of worms to start with. I carefully pierced it with my tiny hook, hoping I wouldn't have to use the First Aid kit under the bench. It wiggled and squirmed as I pinched and pushed. I stood up, pressed the black release button on my reel and cast my line out as far as I could muster. My red and white bobber scared away the circular ripples when it hit the water with a miniature splash. I waited, sitting on the bench in the front of the boat, holding my red aluminum pole. As the boat rocked soothingly the net rapped with a rhythmic sound against the interior. A light breeze whistled through my hair. My arms and face warmed with the bright rays of the sun. A fly buzzed around my dirty fingers. I noticed a muskrat swimming carelessly near the shadowy banks in the distance. A tiny splash behind me caught my ear but escaped my eye. Avoiding the scorching steel trim, I leaned over the edge of the boat and peered into the murky water. It smelled strongly of fish and algae. I dangled my left hand finger tips into the cool water, listening as it clapped against the sides of the boat. There was a high-pitch squeak as Granddad sat in his swivel chair. He turned back the key and with a loud roar the motor fired to life again. I began to crank my reel slowly as we started trolling the lake. My line grew taut. Soon my pole jerked in my hand, there was a tug at my line, and a vigorous tension bent my pole. I began cranking quickly occasionally yanking backward. Suddenly, the fishing line snapped and I fell backward. Looking at his watch, Granddad insisted we start heading back. I laid my red pole beside the metal tackle box and stood with my mouth open wide to catch the |
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I probably need to do some revisions, but I am excited to share it with you all. At nearly 2,500 words... I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think... be critical if you can! ha!