Outside, wind howled, rain pounded our windows, but that was nothing compared to what was happening inside.
In our kitchen, my brother’s storm startled me even more than Mother Nature’s.
It arrived with a force that sent my dog running. I wanted to follow but I stayed, frozen, under my mother’s glare. I had to stay, always, so as not to make my brother feel bad.
Him. We don’t want him to feel bad. Because, with changes in routine, like pizza being delivered with mushrooms alongside the pepperoni, he struggles. But, standing near his pizza-fueled rage, I struggle, too.
He glanced in the rearview mirror. “That a question, little lady?”
“Not really,” she sighed. They’d just passed the exit to Jimmy’s Ice Cream, where he’d promised to bring her. Why the hell had she hitchhiked? Whatever happened now would be her own damn fault. Idiot. Her dead cell phone may soon have some company.
“Well,” he cleared his throat. “This ain’t no fun.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, join the club.”
“You ain’t scared?”
He slid a gun from his waistband. “Now?”
“Cool. Can I see that?”
Okay, folks. This is my first ever choose-your-own-adventure flash. What happens next?
This week’s prompt is to write a poem with synonyms of the words ‘game’ & ‘trouble’ in it.
A small haiku-like contribution to Colleen’s Weekly Poetry Challenge. You can write any of the following: Haiku / Tanka / Haibun / Cinquain / Senryu. Check it out and challenge yourself to some poetry.
Here’s a fun, little haiku using the prompt words:
My mother laughed. Not in that way the other mothers laughed at their kids. Their laughter sounded like chickadees or Christmas bells. And they looked at their sons and daughters, ruffling hair or kissing cheeks, as if to say, “Aren’t they cute?” My mother’s chuckling didn’t say, “Isn’t she cute?” It was a combination of dismissal and disappointment. I never knew how someone could make laughter sound so unpleasant.
My father explained the distance between the earth and the moon. He was “practical” and had no patience for dreamers. That is to say, he had no patience for me.
My grandparents said I was spoiled. Which had nothing to do with the moon, really, but they never missed a chance to say it.
My teacher smiled and told me about astronauts. Which is exactly the sort of person she was. I should have expected her to do something like that. Instead of asking more about traveling to the moon, I demanded to know why she was telling me this. Then I cried and asked if I could live with her and she got that look on her face like when she had to send someone to the principal’s office. She didn’t call on me for the rest of the year. I remember being young, wanting things I couldn’t have. I remember Ms. Haley. And I know she remembers me.