With tears welling up in her eyes, seven year-old Annie turned away from the counter. She put the fist-full of change back into her Partridge Family purse and looked back at Ned. "But...last week...you promised..." was all she could manage. The man grunted and took a long pull from a Dr Pepper. "I guess it's time you learned, promises don't mean nothin'!" he yelled as Annie ran through the door, bells clanging behind her. "What a jerk," Teddy said as he finished off a bag of Fritos. "And that was the last time you were here?" he asked as Annie's SUV rolled past the boarded up toy store and through the town she used to call home. "Just about," she laughed at the absurdity of it. But it was true, at least in the memory her seven year-old self had conjured up. Ned refused to sell her the doll she had been coveting and she and her mother moved away. In reality, Annie's mom, Bev, had gotten a job in Detroit working on the line for GM. The money and benefits allowed her to give Annie a good education in the Detroit suburb of Grosse Pointe. Their house was much smaller, but they had been happy. "Maybe it was the Partridge Family purse," Ted mused. "He thought you were too dorky to have the doll and the town voted you out." Annie reached over and gave the teenager a playful swat.As she wheeled the Liberty into the driveway of the worn-down colonial, Annie let out a sigh. Teddy gave her a hug. "It's okay, Mom. I'm here to help and Dad would've been here but he had to work." Annie smiled at him. She was a lucky woman. She slipped the key into the lock and pushed open the door. The smell of her early childhood overwhelmed her. Cookies baking, roasts burning, Christmas trees decorated with candy canes, wet sneakers...all in one breath. "Wow," was all she could say. Teddy pushed past her to the large sitting room."Geez, look at all this junk." Annie sighed. He was right. The place was full of old junk Annie guessed they'd left behind when they moved. "Hey, Mom..."Teddy called as he tried on a Shriner's hat, "Why didn't Grandma sell the house before she died?" Annie had no answer. The reading of the will was the first time she'd known the house was still in their possession. "Where'd you find that," she laughed when she saw her fez-topped son. "Over there. Was it my grandpa's?" Annie shook her head. "I don't know." She didn't remember ever seeing it before. Annie's father had died when she was a baby and she didn't remember the fez being one of his belongings her mother kept on display. Both the charity truck and the dumpster she'd ordered had arrived. So, wearing dust masks and work gloves, mother and son labored. side by side, clearing out the house. Anything they wanted to keep had to fit in the Liberty. Everything else either went to charity or to the dump. Occasionally, Teddy would toss an item in the "dump pile," and Annie would retrieve it and walk it out to the SUV. How was he to know the value of Super Elastic Bubble Plastic? Although they'd agreed to deal with the second floor tomorrow, Annie couldn't resist taking a peak at her old room and she left Teddy to finish up with the few items left on the first floor.She pushed open the door to her bedroom. The late 1960's exploded before her eyes. Looking around, she could remember the day she'd talked her mother into pasting the 6-foot tall sunflower decal on the wall at the head of her bed. "It matches my orange carpeting perfectly!" she'd cried when she saw it in the window of the Sears store on Clark Street. And there it was today, clashing with the carpeting, as it must've then, to everyone's eyes but hers. Annie began to cry. Her mother was really gone. She looked around the empty room and saw a box in the corner. She opened the box. A note lay atop a loosely wrapped item.She read the note: Dear Annie: If you are reading this, I guess Bev has went off to meet Jesus. I'm sorry. Your mama and me was in love back when you lived here. I asked her to marry me and she promised she would. But when the time come, she said this wasn't the life she wanted for you. Do you recollect she sent you in to buy that doll you doted on? But on that Saturday, when you come in, I couldn't let her go. She reminded me so much of you and your mama. I'm sorry I made you cry. In spite of everything, she let me live in this house when my store closed right after you all left town -- said it was paid up and she didn't need no rent. It's 1993 now, and I'm getting ready to move into an old folks home. My kids are downstairs packing up my things. I've thought of you both many times over the years. I hope you had a good life. Love, Ned Annie opened the package. It was the doll. Her doll. She held it up to her face and took a deep breath.
10/3/08
24-Hour Short Story Contest
Promises 
With tears welling up in her eyes, seven year-old Annie turned away from the counter. She put the fist-full of change back into her Partridge Family purse and looked back at Ned. "But...last week...you promised..." was all she could manage. The man grunted and took a long pull from a Dr Pepper. "I guess it's time you learned, promises don't mean nothin'!" he yelled as Annie ran through the door, bells clanging behind her. "What a jerk," Teddy said as he finished off a bag of Fritos. "And that was the last time you were here?" he asked as Annie's SUV rolled past the boarded up toy store and through the town she used to call home. "Just about," she laughed at the absurdity of it. But it was true, at least in the memory her seven year-old self had conjured up. Ned refused to sell her the doll she had been coveting and she and her mother moved away. In reality, Annie's mom, Bev, had gotten a job in Detroit working on the line for GM. The money and benefits allowed her to give Annie a good education in the Detroit suburb of Grosse Pointe. Their house was much smaller, but they had been happy. "Maybe it was the Partridge Family purse," Ted mused. "He thought you were too dorky to have the doll and the town voted you out." Annie reached over and gave the teenager a playful swat.As she wheeled the Liberty into the driveway of the worn-down colonial, Annie let out a sigh. Teddy gave her a hug. "It's okay, Mom. I'm here to help and Dad would've been here but he had to work." Annie smiled at him. She was a lucky woman. She slipped the key into the lock and pushed open the door. The smell of her early childhood overwhelmed her. Cookies baking, roasts burning, Christmas trees decorated with candy canes, wet sneakers...all in one breath. "Wow," was all she could say. Teddy pushed past her to the large sitting room."Geez, look at all this junk." Annie sighed. He was right. The place was full of old junk Annie guessed they'd left behind when they moved. "Hey, Mom..."Teddy called as he tried on a Shriner's hat, "Why didn't Grandma sell the house before she died?" Annie had no answer. The reading of the will was the first time she'd known the house was still in their possession. "Where'd you find that," she laughed when she saw her fez-topped son. "Over there. Was it my grandpa's?" Annie shook her head. "I don't know." She didn't remember ever seeing it before. Annie's father had died when she was a baby and she didn't remember the fez being one of his belongings her mother kept on display. Both the charity truck and the dumpster she'd ordered had arrived. So, wearing dust masks and work gloves, mother and son labored. side by side, clearing out the house. Anything they wanted to keep had to fit in the Liberty. Everything else either went to charity or to the dump. Occasionally, Teddy would toss an item in the "dump pile," and Annie would retrieve it and walk it out to the SUV. How was he to know the value of Super Elastic Bubble Plastic? Although they'd agreed to deal with the second floor tomorrow, Annie couldn't resist taking a peak at her old room and she left Teddy to finish up with the few items left on the first floor.She pushed open the door to her bedroom. The late 1960's exploded before her eyes. Looking around, she could remember the day she'd talked her mother into pasting the 6-foot tall sunflower decal on the wall at the head of her bed. "It matches my orange carpeting perfectly!" she'd cried when she saw it in the window of the Sears store on Clark Street. And there it was today, clashing with the carpeting, as it must've then, to everyone's eyes but hers. Annie began to cry. Her mother was really gone. She looked around the empty room and saw a box in the corner. She opened the box. A note lay atop a loosely wrapped item.She read the note: Dear Annie: If you are reading this, I guess Bev has went off to meet Jesus. I'm sorry. Your mama and me was in love back when you lived here. I asked her to marry me and she promised she would. But when the time come, she said this wasn't the life she wanted for you. Do you recollect she sent you in to buy that doll you doted on? But on that Saturday, when you come in, I couldn't let her go. She reminded me so much of you and your mama. I'm sorry I made you cry. In spite of everything, she let me live in this house when my store closed right after you all left town -- said it was paid up and she didn't need no rent. It's 1993 now, and I'm getting ready to move into an old folks home. My kids are downstairs packing up my things. I've thought of you both many times over the years. I hope you had a good life. Love, Ned Annie opened the package. It was the doll. Her doll. She held it up to her face and took a deep breath.
With tears welling up in her eyes, seven year-old Annie turned away from the counter. She put the fist-full of change back into her Partridge Family purse and looked back at Ned. "But...last week...you promised..." was all she could manage. The man grunted and took a long pull from a Dr Pepper. "I guess it's time you learned, promises don't mean nothin'!" he yelled as Annie ran through the door, bells clanging behind her. "What a jerk," Teddy said as he finished off a bag of Fritos. "And that was the last time you were here?" he asked as Annie's SUV rolled past the boarded up toy store and through the town she used to call home. "Just about," she laughed at the absurdity of it. But it was true, at least in the memory her seven year-old self had conjured up. Ned refused to sell her the doll she had been coveting and she and her mother moved away. In reality, Annie's mom, Bev, had gotten a job in Detroit working on the line for GM. The money and benefits allowed her to give Annie a good education in the Detroit suburb of Grosse Pointe. Their house was much smaller, but they had been happy. "Maybe it was the Partridge Family purse," Ted mused. "He thought you were too dorky to have the doll and the town voted you out." Annie reached over and gave the teenager a playful swat.As she wheeled the Liberty into the driveway of the worn-down colonial, Annie let out a sigh. Teddy gave her a hug. "It's okay, Mom. I'm here to help and Dad would've been here but he had to work." Annie smiled at him. She was a lucky woman. She slipped the key into the lock and pushed open the door. The smell of her early childhood overwhelmed her. Cookies baking, roasts burning, Christmas trees decorated with candy canes, wet sneakers...all in one breath. "Wow," was all she could say. Teddy pushed past her to the large sitting room."Geez, look at all this junk." Annie sighed. He was right. The place was full of old junk Annie guessed they'd left behind when they moved. "Hey, Mom..."Teddy called as he tried on a Shriner's hat, "Why didn't Grandma sell the house before she died?" Annie had no answer. The reading of the will was the first time she'd known the house was still in their possession. "Where'd you find that," she laughed when she saw her fez-topped son. "Over there. Was it my grandpa's?" Annie shook her head. "I don't know." She didn't remember ever seeing it before. Annie's father had died when she was a baby and she didn't remember the fez being one of his belongings her mother kept on display. Both the charity truck and the dumpster she'd ordered had arrived. So, wearing dust masks and work gloves, mother and son labored. side by side, clearing out the house. Anything they wanted to keep had to fit in the Liberty. Everything else either went to charity or to the dump. Occasionally, Teddy would toss an item in the "dump pile," and Annie would retrieve it and walk it out to the SUV. How was he to know the value of Super Elastic Bubble Plastic? Although they'd agreed to deal with the second floor tomorrow, Annie couldn't resist taking a peak at her old room and she left Teddy to finish up with the few items left on the first floor.She pushed open the door to her bedroom. The late 1960's exploded before her eyes. Looking around, she could remember the day she'd talked her mother into pasting the 6-foot tall sunflower decal on the wall at the head of her bed. "It matches my orange carpeting perfectly!" she'd cried when she saw it in the window of the Sears store on Clark Street. And there it was today, clashing with the carpeting, as it must've then, to everyone's eyes but hers. Annie began to cry. Her mother was really gone. She looked around the empty room and saw a box in the corner. She opened the box. A note lay atop a loosely wrapped item.She read the note: Dear Annie: If you are reading this, I guess Bev has went off to meet Jesus. I'm sorry. Your mama and me was in love back when you lived here. I asked her to marry me and she promised she would. But when the time come, she said this wasn't the life she wanted for you. Do you recollect she sent you in to buy that doll you doted on? But on that Saturday, when you come in, I couldn't let her go. She reminded me so much of you and your mama. I'm sorry I made you cry. In spite of everything, she let me live in this house when my store closed right after you all left town -- said it was paid up and she didn't need no rent. It's 1993 now, and I'm getting ready to move into an old folks home. My kids are downstairs packing up my things. I've thought of you both many times over the years. I hope you had a good life. Love, Ned Annie opened the package. It was the doll. Her doll. She held it up to her face and took a deep breath.
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8 comments:
Hey, what are you doing here? Turn back. I enjoyed the story too, but don't you think you should reconsider what you're doing? Remember: actions have consequences.
(The only reason for deleting my initial comment had to do with a typo--trust me.)
This is an obvious attempt by my cousin's husband to derail the fair and unbiased voting system put in place by the good people at Writer's Weekly.
So, I'll leave it up to our readers. You decide: Promises or Ruth Mondo...?
I'm so glad you failed to mention where the votes are tallied.
They're tallied on
sjawriter.blogspot.com.
You know, where you sent all of your readers so they could enjoy some real writing for a change.
Lower right corner Ladies & Gents.
Sorry Jim. I have to cast my vote here. Now I will slink back to my dank cave.
TWM,
It's all good. Remember how you wanted me to go head to head with another more popular writer? I didn't know how to react to that proposal! Anyway... to ease the pain, I've written another soul searching post. I guess you could say I'm retreating, if not, conceding the contest. Congrats, SJA!
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