Sheila’s Stories

Mom’s Vigil

/ Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / Leave a comment

FREE WRITE FRIDAY

MOM’S VIGIL

She stood in the window oblivious to the noise. All her focus on the street and the big clock on the wall, as minutes ticked away. When the call came, in the middle of the night, she thought the worst. It’s what every mother did. Late night calls never bring good news, except this time. Unable to go back to sleep, she’d been cleaning, dusting, changing linen, and baking all her favorite things.

Would she really come? She toyed with the pearls hanging around her neck and glanced at the clock.

“No later than 11 o’clock, I promise, mom.” The clock said 10:45am. A feeling of dread began to move up slowly from the pit of her soul. Her chest tightened as tears of disappointment began pushing upward. She glanced at the clock one last time, 11:30. Her hands trembled as she reached up to pull the curtain closed when the knock on the door came.

Safe Haven

/ Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 1 Comment

Photo Credit: Roxann Phillips

 

SAFE HAVEN

She tiptoed across the kitchen floor, and eased open the back door, put her finger to her lips, “Sssh Lady,” and took off running.

Louise didn’t look back, but she heard her mother’s warning ringing in her ears, “I’ll skin you alive if you don’t stay out of that cow pasture, Louise!”

She couldn’t stop. Here is where she felt safe, in the cow pasture, talking to the cows, her daddy, and God. Mostly God, because He had all the answers.Louise ran to the fence jumped up, squealing.”Lady! Look!” She pointed, “He’s here, see the rainbow?”

Wrong Turn

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 Five Sentence Fiction -Foggy

WRONG TURN

It’s true what they say about other senses taking over,she’d never seen such blackness, or been so blind.The disgusting cologne he wore permeated the entire car making her gag on the duct tape he’d pulled across her face stifling her screams, and in an instant he’d thrown her to the ground, hog-tying her faster than cattle at a rodeo.

On high alert, she tried to memorize everything, the sounds, turns they made, the nubby carpet fibers,and pr ayed her searching fingertips would touch anything that might give her a chance. She could tell when he’d turned off the main road by the way she rolled and bounced inside the trunk, the smell of pine, crunch of gravel, and the dead quiet of the night.

A sickening wave of terror rushed through her as the car slowed, the tape tightened as she struggled and clawed at the darkness, her fingers finally brushing against the edge of something, his shovel, damp from the night soil, and she called out to God, “Please, help me.”

Night Walk

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Spooky Moon

(Photo credit: rcbodden)

Flash Fiction Friday: Spooky Moon

NIGHT WALK

She gripped her elbows. The sound of her heels shouting out her frustration against the pavement in a rapid chorus of retreat and anger. Dammit! She was tired of fighting. 

The chill of the night air moved through her thin, silk blouse. She folded her arms in closer rubbing her hands up and down for warmth as the moon disappeared behind the clouds. Darkness fell on her like a veil. Footsteps echoed and chills crawled up her spine. She turned, trembling, to face the shadows of the night. “Hello?”