Kat Myrman at Mercury Colliding has provided another interesting photo prompt for a very short story of no more than 280 characters. My first impression of this picture was that it reminded me of marionettes. So here’s my entry this week and you can read all the entries and/or join in by visiting Kat’s site.
Papa, it’s wonderful!
Well, it’s not everyday that a prince turns 10, now is it?
May I make the puppets move?
Puppets? Oh, no, son, they’re not toys. They’re tiny subjects I had created just for you. Now, be gentle —
I’m making this one fly!
Wilhelm, no — his arm!
I struggled to open my eyes, I’d been so sound asleep. Or something. My head is totally foggy and my mouth feels dry and cottony. I realize I’m in the back seat of a car, a limo by the looks of it, all sleek and black with a glass partition upfront. And it feels like we’re moving…
My family is nowhere in sight. “Hey, where am I?” I’m so annoyed that I’m shouting, which only makes my head hurt worse. Or maybe I don’t say anything out loud, and the yelling is inside my head. I grab for a bottle of water to ease the dryness in my mouth, then roll my eyes at my foolishness. Drinking something I found on this crazy ass ride would definitely not be a good idea.
Of course, there’s no answer. I force my eyes to open again and struggle to sit upright. I remember the Norfolk airport, the TSA agent who patted me down and our descent into Chicago, when I felt woozy. But after that, nothing…
What on earth happened? And where is anyone else from our flight? I instinctively reach back and touch my neck where it had stung, and my fingers find a small lump, a tiny lump that still feels sore and swollen. I press on it and draw my hand away quickly at the sting of pain.
Feeling more awake, I scoot forward a little in my seat and rap weakly on the glass partition. Nothing. Now I’m not only confused, I’m getting angry. How dare someone do this to me? Drug me and kidnap me, and really, for what possible reason? I’m a middle school school secretary from the suburbs. I don’t have any enemies. I’m a mom and wife with an old dog and I’m on summer break from my job to be home with the kids.
Suddenly I feel the car come to a smooth stop and as I’m fumbling to undo my seatbelt, the door flies open. When I see the man reaching in for me, my mouth opens in shock, but no words come out..
A repost from last year…
Why can’t life be easier? Why can’t things just work out? Trisha shook her head sadly as she boarded the bus, glad to be out of the chilly November air and happy to see that a seat was open near her. She sank down gratefully, pulling her coat in around her and grasping her bag closely on her lap.
The scruffy young man on her right moved his legs together guiltily, apparently realizing he was taking up more than half the seat. “Oh, sorry,” he said in a deeper voice than she’d expected. Trisha glanced up quickly into soft blue gray eyes that really did look apologetic. She couldn’t help but return his smile. “No problem,” she said. “I’m exhausted, is all, and just glad to find an empty seat.”
“Long day, I’d guess?” That voice of his just rumbled and as her eyes met his again she noticed the wrinkles around the corners of those eyes and the touches of gray in his beard. Not so young, maybe. “Long week, and its only Wednesday.”
“Ah, well, maybe things will be looking up soon.” How did he manage to look so appealing and sympathetic at the same time?
“Maybe. I guess. Sure.” She could feel her cheeks heating. “Sorry, I haven’t any idea, really. My job was just downsized today. Such a nice way of saying you’re fired without really saying it.”
“Oh, I am sorry to hear that! Perhaps I could buy you dinner?” Now he had the grace to look slightly uncomfortable. “Jeez, you must think me an idiot. My name is Grant Thomas and I’m getting off at the Peterson Avenue stop unless you’d go to dinner with me, in which case we can get off the bus wherever your stop is?”
“Trisha James,” she said extending her hand. “Peterson is my stop, too, and there’s a little Italian restaurant right there on the corner.” “Brunettis,” they said together, laughing.
“So, Trisha James, what do you say? Join me for a glass of wine and some incredibly good pasta?”
Closing her eyes briefly against all the reasons she shouldn’t trust this rather scruffy looking stranger she’d just met on a city bus, Trisha glanced up into those very kind eyes and decided. “I’d like that, Grant,” she smiled.
“Wonderful and here’s our stop now,” he said, guiding her down the aisle toward the door, nodding to the driver. “Good night, Lillian.”
“Night, Dr. Thomas. See you tomorrow.”
Oh, my, Trisha thought, appearances certainly could be deceiving…
Picture from Pixabay
Please check out Nicola’s Six Word Story Challenge and vote for your favorites. This week’s topic is Epiphany and here’s my entry…
Important things in life aren’t things…