Story A Day #25: It Ended on a Sunny Day

It ended on a sunny Sunday and that is why she smiled as she left. That, and because the angel who came to attend her was exactly as she had imagined: beautiful, friendly, and smelling like sugar cookies, which were her favorite.

***

On Saturday, the doctors told her mother that they had done all they could; her mother left, weeping and planning not to return. It had all been too much for her.

***

Her mother had split Friday between the hospital and the church; she could not see the angels that wept with her in either place.

***

The rain was coming down in sheets and the bus driver for the Thursday school field trip never saw the car going the wrong way on the highway.

***

She had such a wonderful time during the field trip; she and her school chums spent the afternoon talking about what they wanted to be when they grew up. They broke into a run and were chased by their own laughter as they tried to not get soaked by the big fat raindrops that began to fall just as it was time to go home.

***

The angels laughed sadly as they watched her work in her journal; before going to bed on Wednesday she shook out the crumbs of the sugar cookie she had snuck from the dinner table and then drew an image and wrote a story about what she thought her guardian angel looked like. They knew she would soon find out.

Today’s Story A Day asked us to write a story in reverse. I may rework this idea since we have a prompt in the coming week that asks us to write something with a child as our protagonist…

VisDare 21: Apocalypse Story

“They are coming,” Mr. White announced as he took the first casket out of the back of the carriage. Despite the thin and antiquated look of the carriage, it was quite modern, with a larger interior than exterior. It could hold the eternity’s worth of caskets.

Mr. Red was shielding his eyes from the sudden bright explosion of light as Mr. First returned. “Come, Mr. White; the others will arrive soon.” They both stood at the back of the carriage by the first casket, at the ready.

Mr. Black suddenly appeared. “We must get prepared; there will be much work to do.”

As he finished, Mr. Pale appeared. “Mr. First will be going back soon. For now, we ride.”

The Lamb opened the first of the seven seals…before me was a white horse!

Then…a fiery red one.

There…was a black horse.

There…was a pale horse. Its rider was named Death.

Click on the photo above to visit the VisDare page for this week. The picture is the prompt, which inspired me to this 150-word version of the opening of the first seals in the Bible’s Book of Revelation. If you are unfamiliar with the story or would like more on the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, you can find an interesting recitation here.

Friday Fictioneers are Promptless, Season 2 Episode 2: A Vision of the Desired Call

“It’s a what?” she asked. If she’d had a calendar, she’d have noticed it was his birthday.

Herb looked at her, smiling in his crooked way. “A vision board; it is a representation of my greatest dream. Besides you of course.”

She figured they needed a good laugh right about now. “Okay, I’ll bite. Tell me more.”

“When I feel down, I come look at it and imagine what it’ll be like when I call her.” She knew he meant his daughter. “I’d tell her we hit it big, I’m coming to get her, and we ain’t homeless no more.”

Copyright: Danny Bowman

It must be a day for combinations! I put together this little 100-word piece for this week’s For the Promptless as well as Friday Fictioneers.

Daily Post Meets Write Now! 24 May 2013: I Met a Kind Stranger

Why I kept up with that crowd is hard to say. I guess I had really wanted to pledge and get into the sorority, to be a part of something bigger than myself. It was the last day of trial and testing; my final challenge was to go into the old wing of the hospital, ride the elevator from bottom to top, get the flag they had stashed in the supply room, and walk out the side door back into the new part of the hospital. It had all been arranged; my big sister’s aunt, who was also a soror, worked in the hospital and had timed it out for me so no one would get into trouble. They all assured me there was nothing to it; it was just a creepy old building. It was under power as the hospital officials were still clearing out files and what not. I was cool with it.

At the appointed hour I arrived at the back door, where my big sister’s aunt met me. She led me through an unfinished passageway that joined the two sections of the hospital together and left me at the elevator bank. I pressed the button and the doors slid opened; to my surprise there was a well-dressed man inside. He smiled and stepped to the left as I entered. “What floor?” he asked as if it wasn’t strange that I was getting in the elevator.

“Five, please,” I answered, trying to sound more confident.

After pressing the floor, he looked at me and smiled. “Hello, my name is Carl. What’s yours, young lady?” Before I could answer, the elevator bucked and came to a halt. Carl didn’t seem particularly worried. “Oh, it’ll get moving in a moment; this old girl is temperamental. I see this at least once a night.”

I wondered if Carl was maybe an evening supervisor for the security company that supposedly patrolled the exterior of the building. “Um, I’m Jessica,” I answered. “My friend’s aunt works here and I’m helping her out. Need to pop up to the top floor and grab something for her.”

Carl nodded absently. “You know, Jessica, I was born in this hospital many years ago. It has seen more people in its halls over the last century than all the people who live in Cambridge, Maine, four times over.”

I didn’t know what to make of him. He seemed totally content to be stuck in an elevator with some college girl who had no business being there. “That’s something, Carl,” I said, trying to sound convincing.

With a jerk, the elevator started again and then stopped on the third floor. Carl stepped out, turned back to me, and smiled. “You’ll do just fine, Jessica. No need to worry about a thing.” As the elevator doors slid toward closed, he said through the narrowing slit, “Just watch that the door doesn’t close behind you!” And with that, I was alone. The elevator continued up to the top floor without incident. It was dark there, save the few emergency lights that were on every few feet. I took a deep breath, pulled out my flashlight and turned left toward the designated closet and wondered what Carl was talking about. Before the elevator could close, I stuck my arm in and popped the emergency stop button, thinking that perhaps that was the trick: I would find myself on the top floor, the elevator would leave, and there would be no stairs to get back down—Carl had warned me not to let the door close behind me. I smiled at my own abilities and set off with new confidence to find the closet. About 200 feet down the hallway I saw it. I shined my light around as I stepped in; the flag was stuck on a shelf at the back of the rather long closet. As I made my way to grab it, the closet door closed heavily behind me and my heart sank. What if he meant this door? I thought. I grabbed the flag, came back to the door and found it locked. I was confused; it hadn’t been locked when I opened it from the other side. I felt myself starting to panic and reached for my mobile; there was of course no signal. As my mind began to reel, there was a soft knock on the door and then a key was slid under it. I scrambled for the key, unlocked the door, and dashed into the empty hallway. I thought I saw the edge of Carl’s coat entering the elevator but when I got there it was just as I left it, doors open and the emergency stop pushed. It was then that I noticed the stairway; it was to the right of the elevator. I took them down two at a time and made it back to my big sister’s aunt at the appointed time.

I turned in the flag to my big sister and promptly rescinded my request to join the sorority after I had a chance to talk with my big sister’s aunt about Carl. He was the building’s head of operations back before the old section had closed. My big sister’s aunt said he had died a year ago; she laughed it off and said I’d seen the ghost some of the orderlies talked about. I’d like to think of him more as an angel. Anyway, I heard the celebration for the new sisters was wonderful.

I decided to combine today’s Daily Prompt with the Write Now! prompt (which is bold underlined in the piece). Funny how a kindly mysterious stranger can change a person’s perspective.

Story A Day May #24: A Mother’s Tears

Antonia tried to block the light by squeezing her eyelids shut tighter, but all that did was intensify her headache. She slightly opened her left eye and, through the gauze of the sheet, saw the time: 6am. I didn’t see it! her brain screamed, even as she heard the gentle shuff-shuff of her nana’s orthopedic shoes coming into the room. If I hold still enough, maybe she’ll go. “Antonia, dear; time to get up for mass,” nana’s voice was gentle but after her night of drinking  sounded sharply edged in Antonia’s ears.

Antonia gave a gravelly response from beneath the sheet. “Nana, I had a late night; how about I go with you tomorrow?” She regretted saying it as soon as it fell from her lips; tomorrow was Friday and she was already on to go out with the girls from work after. “Or maybe I can go to two services on Sunday?” she quickly added.

Her questions were met with silence, then a sigh. “The Blessed Mother cries for you,” her nana said on her way out of the room. Her statement was confirmed by the slow and steady shuff-shuff of her shoes as she made her way to the front door alone, and the silent tears that fell from her eyes along the way. When Antonia heard the door shut and lock, she pushed back the covers and stretched, burping the taste of last night to the tip of her tongue. For a moment she kept her eyes closed against the morning but a steady and light moaning brought her out of her reverie. Antonia sat up too quickly, bringing a teaspoon of beer and bile to the back of her throat. She dashed to the bathroom and brought up the remaining vestige of last night’s party. After rinsing her mouth and composing herself, she looked up and silently prayed while making the sign of the cross, Lord, I promise not to get that wasted again. She frowned as she heard the moaning sound again and carefully padded from the bathroom in search of the sound. It seemed to get louder as she approached the living room but before she could enter, her mobile rang. She quickly reversed course to her room and caught it on the fourth ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, girl! How you doin’? I figured you’d be on your way to mass with your nana,” Catarine laughed lightly on the other end, nursing her own hangover.

“Yeah, well, I promised I’d go with her twice on Sunday,” Antonia answered. The moaning got louder.

“–tonight, right?” Catarine said.

“What was that?” Antonia snapped back to the conversation.

“You got beer in your ears or what?” Catarine was generally cranky when she came off a heavy drinking night. “I was askin’ if you were still on for tonight after work.”

The moaning took on a new pitch and Antonia turned back toward the living room. “Yeah, sure,” she said absently. “Hey look, let me call you back, m’kay?” She rang off before Catarine could protest and made her way cautiously to the living room. She slid open the paneled doors to find no one, which she expected since only she and her nana shared the place. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; the moaning had stopped but had been replaced by what sounded like sobbing. She moved carefully into the room and was drawn to her nana’s corner. Nana had a threadbare wingback chair in which she sat daily, listening to the news while working on a needlepoint. A particularly wretched sob sounded and Antonia looked up; above her nana’s chair was a copy of the Mantegna Crucifixion painting. As she crept closer, one last moan emanated from the Christ figure. Antonia gasped as the weeping Mother Mary’s chest appeared to rise and fall with the sobs she heard so faintly. Antonia knelt in the chair, transfixed by the sights and sounds before her. Without taking her eyes from the painting, she auto-dialed Catarine’s number from her mobile. She  waited for Catarine to stop caterwauling about how Antonia had hung up on her before and said, “I won’t be coming out tomorrow night; I have to go to mass with my nana.” Before Catarine could start up her protest anew, Antonia rang off again, placed her mobile on the side table, crossed her hands and began to recite her prayers.

Today’s Story A Day gave us the following prompt, which inspired the tale above:

Your character wants to find the source of a strange noise they can hear. Tell the story of how they find out what that sound is…