Doubt The Rabbit
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Well, here's a little sample of the kind of stuff I write...This one is from a fantasy short story called Willow Creek.
One question a girl should never have to ask herself is, “Why did mom abandon me?”
Don’t get me wrong, I know there are thousands of orphaned kids out there, but I just never thought it would happen to me. Even more bizarre is that mom waited seventeen years to do it. She left behind nothing—no instructions, no money, no explanation. There was only the same question that has been hanging low over the heads of David and I since the day we woke up to find no trace of her: Why?
We’d kept a careful eye on the door for the next few days. Every now and then we could see a ghost of her tumble in and dig her elbows into the floor as she inched across the carpeting like a caterpillar. Her legs didn’t work where alcohol and sex had put knots in her nerve endings. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought to bring her a glass of water and asked how her date went. A few blinks and she was gone.
After a week—you know, when we were sure mom wasn’t coming back—I decided to look for her myself. David stayed home in case she called. Besides, his asthma was bad enough in the stale and frigid air at home. The factory smog that swamped outside the duct tape borders of our windows was enough to kill a man if he stayed out there long enough.
It’d only been a few weeks of coming home empty handed before the monkeys of the Lawrence Police Department showed up on our doorstep with their oil slick hair and soot black shoes. Of course, I knew it was David who’d called in the “professionals.” Their voices came low and muffled from behind the red dust cloths they clutched to their faces. I’d lied for every question they asked me, except the ones that pertained to mom. It didn’t surprise me any that the police search was short-lived and fruitless. You know those city workers. They probably thought we were better off orphaned anyway. They probably would have put David and me in the system if I hadn’t claimed to be eighteen.
After a while, the vision I’d kept of mom stumbling through the front door with the same old apologetic grin on her face was dissolved into a steady credence to the fact that she was gone for good. Phone calls from bill collectors were trickling into our voicemail for a while now and envelopes with overdue statements created a pile on the kitchen counter. We thought we’d have more time, but we didn’t. The lights were the first to go and with it, the filter was also cut off. Putrid air was already swirling down from between the fan blades, so dirty that we could see it. It only took a week until the water was gone and David and I knew that the longer we waited, the closer we came to having the bill collectors knock down our door. My meager eight dollars an hour at the pizza shop would hardly suffice.
So we packed up the little bit of food we had left in the house, a few heavy blankets and clothes for the winter to come and only our most prized possessions and set out. There was no family we could live with and no friends we wanted to burden. Though David’s vote was to stay home and draw from the little hope we had left that we would see our mom again, it was time for us to move on and fend for ourselves. Nobody else mattered anymore.
One question a girl should never have to ask herself is, “Why did mom abandon me?”
Don’t get me wrong, I know there are thousands of orphaned kids out there, but I just never thought it would happen to me. Even more bizarre is that mom waited seventeen years to do it. She left behind nothing—no instructions, no money, no explanation. There was only the same question that has been hanging low over the heads of David and I since the day we woke up to find no trace of her: Why?
We’d kept a careful eye on the door for the next few days. Every now and then we could see a ghost of her tumble in and dig her elbows into the floor as she inched across the carpeting like a caterpillar. Her legs didn’t work where alcohol and sex had put knots in her nerve endings. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought to bring her a glass of water and asked how her date went. A few blinks and she was gone.
After a week—you know, when we were sure mom wasn’t coming back—I decided to look for her myself. David stayed home in case she called. Besides, his asthma was bad enough in the stale and frigid air at home. The factory smog that swamped outside the duct tape borders of our windows was enough to kill a man if he stayed out there long enough.
It’d only been a few weeks of coming home empty handed before the monkeys of the Lawrence Police Department showed up on our doorstep with their oil slick hair and soot black shoes. Of course, I knew it was David who’d called in the “professionals.” Their voices came low and muffled from behind the red dust cloths they clutched to their faces. I’d lied for every question they asked me, except the ones that pertained to mom. It didn’t surprise me any that the police search was short-lived and fruitless. You know those city workers. They probably thought we were better off orphaned anyway. They probably would have put David and me in the system if I hadn’t claimed to be eighteen.
After a while, the vision I’d kept of mom stumbling through the front door with the same old apologetic grin on her face was dissolved into a steady credence to the fact that she was gone for good. Phone calls from bill collectors were trickling into our voicemail for a while now and envelopes with overdue statements created a pile on the kitchen counter. We thought we’d have more time, but we didn’t. The lights were the first to go and with it, the filter was also cut off. Putrid air was already swirling down from between the fan blades, so dirty that we could see it. It only took a week until the water was gone and David and I knew that the longer we waited, the closer we came to having the bill collectors knock down our door. My meager eight dollars an hour at the pizza shop would hardly suffice.
So we packed up the little bit of food we had left in the house, a few heavy blankets and clothes for the winter to come and only our most prized possessions and set out. There was no family we could live with and no friends we wanted to burden. Though David’s vote was to stay home and draw from the little hope we had left that we would see our mom again, it was time for us to move on and fend for ourselves. Nobody else mattered anymore.
I like your writing, DTR! (That's my new nick for you, btw!)
