Tag Archives: Neil Gaiman

A Calendar of Tales: July

“…an igloo made of books.”

Abby’s shoe, one of the sparkly ones with horses that lit up when she stepped, was untied. The flopping pink lace got snagged under her other foot as she turned out of the lunch line, and Abby WHOOMPHed flat on her face, scraping her knee and sending jambalaya flying. It landed in her hair and on her back, and she jumped up—Ow! Ow! OW!—hollering as the hot mush seeped through her shirt.

All 324 other kids in her grade pointed and laughed.   Mrs. Turner, the lunch lady with purple old-lady hair, took Abby to the main office and gave her a new T-shirt. It was too big and hung almost to Abby’s bleeding knees, but Mrs. Turner said it was better than wearing your lunch all day. She also tied Abby’s shoe laces, so tight Abby thought her feet were going to pop.

When Abby made it back through the line, a new helping of brown lunch mush on her tray, the other kids kept teasing her. She stared at her classmates, now nearly finished eating, and found no one inviting her to sit down. She sat alone at the end of one of the long tables after a group of boys raced off to recess. She ate half the meal, even though it was her favorite at the cafeteria, and slumped to the playground.

She didn’t have anyone to play with. Twice she approached a group playing tag or bouncing a ball, and they laughed. “Ha ha, Abby dontcha know you’re not sapposed to put food in your hair?! Ha ha, Abby’s so gross! Abby, why are you so dumb?!”

Abby sat on a swing and cried, head buried in her too-big ugly t-shirt, until the bell rang to go inside.
____

Tuesday was no better. At least it was pizza day, Abby thought, because if she fell now the pizza wouldn’t make a mess or anything. She sat next to a group of girls whose desks were near hers and picked off the pepperoni squares.

No one talked to her.

At recess she climbed to the top of a rickety old wooden fort that most of the kids didn’t like anymore—they played on the new metal playset with the monkey bars and the twisty slide.

She pretended she was on a desserted island. No one would ever find her out here, and there was all the ice cream and cake she could eat.

—–

It rained on Wednesday, so all the kids were sent to the library after finishing lunch. Abby gave her cookie to Katy, one of the cool kids, and Katy took it but then went and sat on the beanbags with girls with new hairbows and pens that wrote in different colors.

Abby wandered into the library stacks and built an igloo out of books. She crawled in and talked with a polar bear and a penguin. She told them about the cartoon she had watched last night, how the unicorn knew friendly ponies and they all had adventures together. The penguin told Abby she could have adventures, too, but Abby fretted that she needed magic at least.

When the bell rang, the librarian found Abby sitting in her circle of books, and made Abby late to class because she had to put them all back. The librarian gave her teacher a note, and Abby slunk back to her seat.

Timmy whispered to Katy behind his hand, and Katy giggled while sneaking glances at Abby. Abby hid behind a book.
___

The next day the weather was fine and Abby felt pretty in her green jumper. She was wearing the plastic hair clips with cat faces that her aunt had given her for Hanukkah. AND the cafeteria had peach slices, yum. She talked with Sue-Ellen, who had drawn a butterfly on her wrist with marker and was saying it was a tattoo, in the lunch line, and followed her to the long tables.

They sat together, talking about the art project the class had worked on that morning. Abby waited until Sue-Ellen was done, and followed her outside. No one teased her, and that was good.

Abby pretended to be a jaguar. Sue-Ellen hung upside-down and was a monkey throwing bananas at the scary, spotted cat.
___

On Friday, Abby and Sue-Ellen waited in the lunch line together. Abby gave her chocolate pudding to Sue-Ellen in trade for her strawberry fruit leather. They were arguing fiercely about whether or not they might find buried treasure on the playground. (Sue-Ellen thought maybe if they dug in the sandbox deep enough.)

When they were putting up their trays by the trash cans, Sue-Ellen slipped on a crumpled napkin. Her arms flailed as she fell, and Abby caught her elbow, steadying her.

Abby smiled.

Sue-Ellen smiled back.

They raced each other to the playground.

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A Calendar of Tales: June

“A refrigerator. Summertime always makes me wish they’d make large refrigerators that people could squeeze in.”

Sarah stared in dismay at the stacks of applications on the desk. She’d joined the DHS because of her love for the animals, but most of her job was this: sitting at the front desk, waiting for someone to turn up, and filing—in triplicate!—the endless applications.

And hardly anyone filled them out correctly. She sighed, and pulled out her red pen.

Sarah had used her big red “Rejected” stamp 6 times before she came to an application that did not require it. She held up the application in joyous surprise. They seemed to have done their homework, had all the proper background.

She picked up the phone and dialed. “Hello, Mr. Vasquez? This is Sarah at the Dragon Humane Society. We’ve received your application and I’m happy to say you’re approved to come in for an interview. Can you come by today, by any chance? Yes, 3 o’clock will be just fine, thank you. You have our address? Great, see you then!”

Sarah hung up the phone with satisfaction. She didn’t get to make enough of those calls. She hoped the Vasquez family was as good as they seemed on paper.

The bell jangled on the door, minutes before 3 p.m. They were prompt; Sarah made a note on the file—that was good. There were five of them; a tall, handsome man with lightly tanned skin; a woman with soft curves and long dark hair; a girl, about 15; and two boys, anxiously clinging to each other’s hand’s. Sarah made a note to ask about the boys’ ages; they looked rather young.

“Hello,” the man said. “Are you Sarah? We’re here for our adoption interview?”

“Mr. Vasquez? Yes, I’m Sarah. Is this the whole family?” Sarah said brightly, picking up her clipboard and walking around the desk to shake hands, even with the boys.

“Yes, this is all of us. I’m Emilio, this is my wife Juanita, my daughter Serena, my sons Luke and Javier,” Emilio Vasquez squeezed Sarah’s hand. “We’re just so excited at the prospect of bringing a new friend into the family.”

Sarah liked them. They had an earnest wholesomeness about them. But she forced down her smile. She had to remain impartial. “Just a quick interview to ensure you can provide a good home.” She led them into a small room with a table and three chairs. Serena stood behind her parents, and the boys sat on the floor.

“Now,” Sarah said, settling into her chair and poising her pen above the clipboard. “Where will you keep your dragon? Inside or outside?”

“Inside,” Juanita said. “I’m at home with the boys most of the time, so it would stay with me. But we have a lovely backyard for it to enjoy on nice days.”

Sarah chewed the inside of her lip and made a note on the clipboard. “Are you aware of the fencing requirements?”

“Yes ma’am,” Emilio said. “In fact, I finished covering the yard with some high-quality fencing wire just yesterday.”

“Mm hm,” Sarah said. They were sailing through the interview. That was so unusual that Sarah felt wary. “How old are your boys? Will they understand how to treat an animal of this caliber?”

The small boys looked up. “Yes!” one of them cried. “We’ll be good!”

“Hush, Javier,” Juanita said. “They’re 7 and 5. But Luke will be 6 next month; I read on your website that that’s your cutoff, but frankly, we didn’t think we’d hear back so quickly.”

“Well, that may be a problem,” Sarah pursed her lips together and decided, to hell with it, she’d ignore regulations. “You are aware of the $350 adoption fee? That includes the shots and neuter, of course.”

“Yes, I can write you a check right away,” Juanita said, digging into her purse.

Sarah finally allowed herself to smile. “Then let’s go pick out your new friend.”

She led the family to the refrigeration room, and handed out jackets and gloves. The jackets were cartoonishly large on the boys, who drowned in even the smallest sizes. “Why do we need coats?” Serena said with her teenaged rancor. “Aren’t they naturally hot?”

“We keep them in refrigeration while they’re here at the center. We couldn’t contain 25 dragons if they were allowed to roam as normal. The cold slows them down; it also keeps them from growing up as quickly,” Sarah said, pulling open the door. “The sad truth is the kits do get adopted more often, so we try to keep them young as long as possible. Here we go.”

The door swung wide, revealing rows of cages all along the room. Sarah ushered them all inside, careful to close the door. “Any in particular you are interested in? Here at the DHS we’ve got several colors. I’m fond of the iridescent ones, myself.” She gestured to one cage, where a palm-sized dragon yawned. Its scales shimmered like a pearl in shallow water.

The boys ran down to the back of the room, pointing and clamoring excitedly at each new potential pet. Emilio and Juanita followed, considering each infant dragon in turn. Serena stuck her fingers through the cage of an ebony dragon, its back curling away from the bars of the cage.

“They will get to be about 45 pounds, and you’ll need to harness train them right away, before they learn to fly. They make excellent companions; superb burglar deterrents,” Sarah said. “We’ll make a home visit in a few weeks to ensure you’re doing alright, and do call if you have any trouble.”

“Mom, dad, can we get this one?” Serena stroked the head of a little brick-red dragon. It cooed and licked her finger with its forked tongue. “She’s sweet.”

“Aw, that’s Agnes. She came here from a hoarder’s house, very sad case, but we’ve patched her up.” Sarah dropped her voice to speak only to Serena. “She’s one of my favorites.”

“She’s lovely,” Juanita said. “Boys, what do you think?”

“Yeah, she’s great! Agnes, here Agnes,” Javier stuck his fingers through the bars, but they were too short to reach the dragon.

“It seems you’re all in agreement,” Sarah said. She unlocked the door and gently placed the little red dragon in Serena’s arms. “Careful, don’t pinch her wings.”

Sarah led them out of the refrigeration room and reclaimed their jackets. Juanita passed Sarah the adoption fee, and the family walked back out to their car, new friend curled happily in Serena’s arms.

Sarah used her green “Approved” stamp for the first time in weeks, grinning madly.

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A Calendar of Tales: May

“An anonymous Mother’s Day gift. Think about that for a moment.”

The first card arrived in early June. The envelope was pink, with flowers drawn on in childish crayon. It stood out from the business-size white bills. It had no stamp or postal markings, though the address was written in neat print, surprisingly adult, in pen.

Though it was addressed to her, Beth opened the envelope hesitantly, careful not to rip the flap. Surely it was meant for an elementary child’s parent, and Beth was all alone. Probably just an incorrect address; she’d find out who it was from and deliver it. She still knew all the neighborhood children, so it would be easy to return it to the proper house.

The card showed a bouquet of flowers in yellow, pink, and lavender, dusted softly with glitter. The inside was a soft pink, with the words “Happy Mother’s Day!” in a cheery script.

There was no signature, but there was a child’s drawing of a sun in bright yellow crayon in the upper-left corner.

Beth sighed. How she wished for a card like that; but of course, it couldn’t be hers.

Fighting off the quiver in her lip, Beth laid the card on her kitchen countertop, telling herself to ask the neighborhood kids if it belonged to one of them. Besides, it would be good to see them again. They hardly came by for lemonade anymore.

—–

On July 7 Beth returned from her aunt’s beach house to find a page from a spelling tablet tucked between the storm door and the doorframe. Beth put down her suitcase for a moment to retrieve the paper, expecting it to be another charity plea from the local church.

It was a drawing of fireworks, over a stick figure family enjoying a picnic on a red-and-white checkered blanket. It was drawn in marker, and Beth could see where the green ink of the fluffy trees had smudged from the artist’s left-handed coloring.

Written in careful rows on the lined bottom-half of the page was “Hapy FoRth!”

Beth stared at the drawing for a long moment. The stick figure family was three smiling figures: a boy, a man in a red shirt, and a woman with brown hair in a ponytail. It reminded her of that lovely summer years ago, back before Jerry had left. Before…

She shook her head. None of the neighborhood children had claimed the wayward Mother’s Day card, but maybe sweet little Lisa from down the street had given out Fourth of July pictures to her next-door neighbor. Beth resolved to go over and thank the little girl as soon as she unpacked her bags.

—–

A loose pile of wild flowers—red, and pale yellow–and a bluebell from someone’s yard rested on Beth’s car windshield in August, wilted in the heat. Beth smiled at the little love-gift, and set the dying flowers in the grass next to the driveway so that the owner could reclaim them later.

She was surprised to still see them there when she got home from work, but then, children do forget things.

—-

It was just barely October when Beth found the chocolate bar. It had been set on her front porch sometime during the day, while she was at the office, and was mushy from the heat. There was a scratch-and-sniff sticker of a slice of pizza on it.

When she flipped the candy over, Beth found the other sticker: a jolly Santa laughing and clutching his belly. Written next to the “TO:” was “Mommy” in a child’s scrawl.

Beth threw the chocolate in the trash and called her ex-husband. “This has got to stop!” she screamed. “Why are you torturing me?! Do you think this is some kind of joke?”

He denied everything. Beth clicked the phone off, threw it against the couch, and sobbed.

—–

Beth was putting on lipstick, on the way out to a low-key birthday celebration with a few friends, when the doorbell rang. She pursed her lips to set the stain and hurried to the door.

She had expected it to be Dorothy, there to pick her up, but standing behind the glass of the storm door was a woman in a fitted business suit whom Beth did not know.

“Can I help you?” Beth asked.

The woman’s eyes went wide and she broke into a delirious smile. “Mommy!” she said in a childish voice. The woman extended her arms as if to hug Beth.

Beth backed away. “I’m sorry, I think you are confused.” She moved to close the door.

“Mommy, aren’t you happy to see me? Haven’t you missed me?” The woman sounded young, and confused.

Beth stared at her with alarm. The woman said, “Mommy, it’s me, Jamie.” The woman tugged at her blouse absently. “Oh, I forgot; this is Susan. She’s helping me talk to you today. Mommy, I have missed you so much. Didn’t you get my letters? And the candy? Isn’t chocolate the bestest?”

Beth backed away, shaking her head. “No no no, go away. Jamie’s dead. My son is dead, he died 3 years ago and you are a very cruel person. Why would you do this? I lost my son. You’re a horrible person, and I’m calling the police.” Beth was closing the door, but the woman with Jamie’s voice stepped forward and pressed her palm to the glass door.

“Mommy, I’m sorry I’ve upset you. I didn’t mean to make you sad. It’s just that I missed you so much,” Jamie said.

Beth’s eyes filled with tears. “Jamie? Baby, is that you?”

“It’s me mommy,” Jamie said. “If you don’t want me to come back anymore, I won’t. I don’t want to make you sad. But I missed you and wanted to tell you I love you. I am with you every day, mommy.”

“Jamie,” Beth said. She ran out and hugged the woman tightly, and Beth could almost imagine she was holding her son. “Jamie I love you, too. I didn’t know. I didn’t know you could come back. I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, mommy,” Jaime said. The woman pulled back slightly. “Mommy, it’s time for me to go, okay? Susan has to go home now. But I’ll keep sending you letters sometimes, if you say I can.”

“Yes, baby,” Beth said, clutching the smaller woman’s shoulder. “I’ll always love you, Jamie.”

“I love you, too, mommy,” Jamie said. The woman stepped back, brushed down her blouse, now wet with tears, and breathed out slowly. Her breath left a fine white mist that hung in the air.

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A Calendar of Twittery Tales

Fantastic author Neil Gaiman launched A Calendar of Tales, a short fiction project, this month. It combined prompts from his massive Twitter following, and now he’s soliciting art to illustrate the final calendar, a story for each month.

It’s a pretty impressive challenge, so I thought I’d grab on to his long, black, mysterious (very well-fashioned) coattails and have a crack at some short fiction, too. It’s good practice.

I love Neil Gaiman!

I’m only a *little bit* of a fan, as you can see.

To really emulate one of my absolute favorite authors, I’ll try to follow his rules:

  • Write a story off the Twitter prompts.
  • Don’t poach Neil’s ideas. I read his stories once, but I’m not going to peek again until after I’ve finished. They’ll use similar themes, I imagine, as I’m starting from the same prompts, but we’ll go different places.
  • Between 500 and 1,100 words (I did a word count on each of his stories to find this range).
  • Spend no more than 3 hours on each story. (This is gonna be tough! I got this figure by assuming he spent 12 hours per day writing for each of the three days it took him to complete this challenge. If I was able to write full-time, I might try the three-day sprint, but this is going to have to do.)

Thanks for the inspiration, Neil!

-ME

My first three stories are up!

January (Dangerous Veteran)
February (Grandma’s Pendant)
March (Anne Bonny Dreams)

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