The Bettermost Drabblefest: Please Join In!

[fernly]

(I tried for something amusing, too. Couldn't manage it either.)


Homecoming

    Jack got home before Lureen. That was happening more and more often these days. They’d started taking both vehicles when she’d lost patience with him restlessly pacing outside her office while she went over the day’s numbers, even though she was fast at it. So he’d drive home alone in the truck, pull half-way into the driveway, reach out and flip down the door of their mailbox that was painted to look like their house, pull out the magazines and bills and hardly ever any letters, and, just once in a while, the postcards he watched for sharper than any eagle searched for what would keep him alive.
     Here it was, a couple weeks earlier than he’d let himself hope for, shiny postcard of a mountain, meadow full of flowers at its feet, but when he flipped the card, on the back, instead of Ennis’ terse scrawl, tiny red precise letters filled every inch of the space next to his name. Yes, you can have that sweet life! Here at Paradise Pines in the Texas Hill Country! Call for your free, no commitment, no obligation, all expenses paid visit to our beautiful vacation homes! Call now and escape to the life you’ve always wanted! 555-5517
     Jack crushed the card in his hand, threw it out the open window. Hit the button on the remote, waited for the garage door to shudder its way up, and drove in. Sat there, staring at nothing, as the door clanked shut behind him. Finally realized he was looking at the calendar over the workbench. Lureen must have flipped it that morning, careful as always to keep things up to date. April 1st. And he tried to laugh at the joke so much of his life had become, that no escape to some place called Paradise Pines would fix.

[mariez]

. . .  All except for the last one.  He couldn’t bear to read that one.  . .

Me neither.     Whoever or whatever the Artist is, it does appear that he is giving Ennis comfort. 

His Battle . . .

His mind tormented him, . . .

This is so raw and real - poor Ennis - always in torment, fighting that battle.   Damn fine writing, Milli -  and, of course, the perfect picture again.   

.  .  .
     Jack crushed the card in his hand, threw it out the open window. Hit the button on the remote, waited for the garage door to shudder its way up, and drove in. Sat there, staring at nothing, as the door clanked shut behind him. Finally realized he was looking at the calendar over the workbench. Lureen must have flipped it that morning, careful as always to keep things up to date. April 1st. And he tried to laugh at the joke so much of his life had become, that no escape to some place called Paradise Pines would fix.

I can see that your muse never leads you wrong, Fern.  What a poignant picture of hope and despair. 

Thanks, all
Marie

[MaineWriter]

Good morning all,

Try these today:

• crow
• blanket
• misunderstanding

L

[jpwagoneer1964]

A BOYS DREAM

January 1952

Deep in slumber Ennis found warmth and comfort under the covers, laying in the stillness of the night. Tall trees, mountain peaks, clear streams paid visit in his dreams. And  most of all a tall, dark haired smiling young cowboy dancing around the campfire, side by side staring at the stars in the heavens,with endless tales of the rodeo, far away ranches,   wishes for a sweet life.

Jack in his bed under in square quilted cover sleep soundlessly at peace. A tall blond cowboy with hardly a word to say, sharing the warm summer breezes high in the mountains, with horses to call their own, just him and this cowboy no one else to mind. And he would make this cowboy speak words, dance by the fire and make him  laugh out loud, care for him, hold him close when it was cold. And he would no longer be alone, so far out on this ranch, where no one came to play.

 

[fernly]

Lessons

        “Crows, like troubles, never come alone.” Something his mother used to tell him, when she’d look out the little window over the sink, out toward the garden, and tell him to go flap his arms at the birds until he was sure they’d all given up and gone.
        “Yeah, you’re a bony old scarecrow,” said K.E., and gave him a good shove on the shoulder to drive home the point, “just give those birds a look at your face and they’ll fly away forever.”
        “Hush, K.E., Ennis, don’t you mind him. Just go shoo away those birds and then pick whatever you want out of the garden for supper tonight.”
        So off he went, bag in hand to flap at the cawing birds, and then once they’d gone, black wings sharp against the blue sky, filled it with the swollen bean pods and wrinkled chard, the red veins like blood.
        Of course the birds came back, little blond head and one waving arm that hardly reached taller than most of the plants no worry to them.
        “Goddamnit, Ennis, you might as well just spread the beans out on a blanket and tell the birds to have at it. Come ‘ere, son, we’ll fix ‘em.”
        And his father knelt down, took the bag away, set the rifle, longer than Ennis was tall, over his shoulder, reached around him to guide his hands and then sight the rifle at the closest of the crows, and fired. The noise and the hard jerk of the gun came close to knocking him flat and would have set him to crying but for the hand, big enough to reach from collarbone to shoulder blade, holding him up and silencing him at the same time, as the eyes dulled, but the feathers and blood kept shining in the harsh afternoon sun.

[mariez]

A quick lunchtime drabble check - 

A BOYS DREAM

January 1952

Deep in slumber Ennis found warmth and comfort under the covers, laying in the stillness of the night. Tall trees, mountain peaks, clear streams paid visit in his dreams. And  most of all a tall, dark haired smiling young cowboy dancing around the campfire, side by side staring at the stars in the heavens,with endless tales of the rodeo, far away ranches,   wishes for a sweet life.

Jack in his bed under in square quilted cover sleep soundlessly at peace. A tall blond cowboy with hardly a word to say, sharing the warm summer breezes high in the mountains, with horses to call their own, just him and this cowboy no one else to mind. And he would make this cowboy speak words, dance by the fire and make him  laugh out loud, care for him, hold him close when it was cold. And he would no longer be alone, so far out on this ranch, where no one came to play. 

Aww, Mark - how incredibly moving.  Those two young lonely boys reaching out for each other even then.  Kismet, for sure.  ".  .  .where no one came to play." - that's so, so sad 

Lessons
.  . . and would have set him to crying but for the hand, big enough to reach from collarbone to shoulder blade, holding him up and silencing him at the same time, as the eyes dulled, but the feathers and blood kept shining in the harsh afternoon sun. 

God, that's gorgeous writing, Fern.  Lessons, indeed.  Poor, poor Ennis.   


Thanks,
Marie

[jpwagoneer1964]

Thanks Marie

That one has been waiting for the right prompt for a long time, but I didn't actually write it until today.
Mark

[milomorris]

The Package

Hello Cameron,

I just happened to mosey back in here after several weeks and I found that this story has piqued my curiosity. Where can I find the earlier parts?

Milo

[Lumière]

Mark and Fern -

What amazing drabbles! 
Thank you.

~M

[Lumière]

My dabble .. 


For Their Sakes ..

Thursday, September 28th, 1967

It was after midnight; Alma sighed deeply and sat up in bed.  She’d been tossing and turning for more than an hour already and sleep still escaped her.  It didn’t help that she had the bed all to herself tonight.  She switched on the lamp on the bedside table and looked over at Ennis’ empty side of the bed.  Three days had gone by since he’d left with the other man, and he hadn’t bothered to say when exactly he’d be back.  She pulled aside the old blanket and crawled out of bed.  She thought of fetching herself a glass of water or a cup of tea, but gave up on the idea.  She paced the little room quietly, her thin arms folded tightly across her chest.  She played it back over and over in her mind - their bodies pressed against the wall, his hands all over the other man’s face, his mouth hungrily seeking, the deep kissing ..

She gave up her pacing and sat down heavily on his corner of the bed.  He just can’t be qu-, she couldn’t bring herself to even think the word.  Maybe she misinterpreted the whole situation, maybe there was a very good reason for what she’d seen, like ... She couldn’t come up with any, but there had to be.  This was Ennis, her husband, the father of their two beautiful girls, the wonderful, hardworking man she loved.  Yeah, there had to be some kind of explanation… everything would be okay when he returned, everything would go back to the way it was …

She ran her fingers along his pillow and picked it up.  She pressed her face into it and breathed it in slowly, she could still smell him.  Fresh tears pooled in her eyes.  She thought of her sleeping babies in the adjacent room; she blinked back the tears.  Everything would be okay when he got back, for their sakes at least, she’ll make sure of it …