Tiny Tuesday (m)
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Tiny Tuesday (m)
| Tue, 08-28-2001 - 10:49am |
Tiny Tuesday (m)
This week, try to write a story (less than 500 words) that involves a traffic sign.
Have fun,
Mac
Click here for a webpage that shows various signs.
http://members.aol.com/rcmoeur/signman.html

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ok, here's mine (m)
"Falling rocks," she said. It was the first time she'd spoken since leaving the city. He thought she was asleep, lulled by the hiss of tires and rain, the thump and swish of the wipers. The medication made her sleepy sometimes, and neither of them got much sleep at night now.
"What, honey?"
"Falling rocks. The road sign."
"Okay," he said and laid his hand on hers.
"Don't patronize me." She turned to look at the baby, fast asleep in her carseat. He glanced in the mirror. Katy's head was bent at an impossible angle, a bubble poised on her sweetly jutting mouth. "I don't want you to tell your parents."
"I said I wouldn't. Don't worry about it." He bit back what he really wanted to say to her. It's an illness. There's no shame in it. No-one will judge you, or say you're a bad mother, a bad person, and if they even hint at it I'll beat the shit out of them. Remember what the doctor said. It happens to some women after childbirth, no-one knows why.
"She's so small. Oh, hell." She pressed her elbows to her chest. "I'm going to smell like old milk again."
"Do you want to stop and nurse her?" Plenty of places along this road cut through a moutainside, scenic overlooks to where the creek tumbled over rocks far below.
"No. Let her sleep." She closed her eyes. "What's yours?"
"My what?"
"Favorite road sign."
He thought, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "Okay. The road works sign. The one that looks like a guy with a broken umbrella."
She smiled, eyes still closed. "Yeah."
"So, what is it about the falling rocks?"
"Well." She straightened up, yawned, and ran her hand through her hair. "Falling rocks. I mean, what can you do? Drive faster? Are they about to fall, are they actually falling, or is it an apology? How do you know? You might drive around the next bend, and there they'd be, rocks all over the damn road."
"Or not," he said.
"Okay. What if you're given a choice. A rock is going to fall on the car. You have to choose which one of us it's going to hit."
"Liz," he said. "Don't go there, honey. Please."
"It's not real. I know that. I just want you to tell me." She saw his hesitation, and continued, "This is what it's like for me. All the time. I can't control anything, I can't protect her, it's like being an ant. It's not that everything's hostile, it's indifferent."
"Liz," he said. "It's okay. I'll look after you both."
"No," she said, "It's not. And you can't. No one can." A tear rolled down her cheek. She turned to the back seat and reached out a finger to their daughter, who grasped it in her sleep, lips sucking. "It's just you and me, sweet girl. You and me and the falling rocks."
And here's mine (m)
"Buckle up, Mommie. It's the law," Henry said, pointing his tiny finger at the black and white metal sign. As I neared the last months of my pregnancy, I felt extreme discomfort wearing a seatbelt.
"I know I should, but Mommie's belly is too big," I said and patted my stomach. "You wouldn't want me to squeeze it so tight that your little sister would come out early, would you?" We both laughed; my husband and I had been teasing our son that when the baby came he wouldn't be the baby anymore.
"No way. I wanna be the baby." He tapped his thumb into his chest.
"We're just going to the store anyway," I'd told him, as if to justify a short distance made it okay to break the rules.
Although I was officially on maternity leave, I had one client who refused to deal with either of the partners in the firm. Reluctantly, I agreed to participate in a conference call from my home earlier that morning. For his cooperation to remain quiet while I was on the phone I made my five-year-old son a promise. So as soon as the call ended, we loaded into the car and headed to Wal-Mart to pick up a new toy. But we never made it to the store because we encountered two teenagers drag racing on the street adjacent to our home. To avoid a head on collision, I yanked the wheel as hard as I could to the right.
Later at the hospital, I listened as the doctor told my husband that our expectant baby hadn't survived the accident. I watched my husband bury his face, grasping the sheet that surrounded me into his callused hands. He sobbed like a small child and I tried to comfort him but it was no use; he couldn't feel my hand squeeze his. In my mind, I kept replaying the last moments of the accident, seeing the fear that had radiated from Henry's coal-black eyes when I glanced his way.
"Mr. Richards, I hope you know we did all we could for your wife," Dr. Rodas said, wiping his forehead with the green cloth that had covered his scalp. "Nurse Ballain will take you to see Henry. He's in stable condition now."
I sighed in relief; knowing that son was in the safety of his father's care, I could move on now. I brushed my hand against my husband's wavy brown hair and moved up, past the ceiling and onto the bright light than beckoned me.
What a powerful message (m)
and I love how you managed to weave it throughout the story. As you say, postpartum depression affects a lot of women and I really felt sorry for your character. I was wondering if she actually hurt the baby or was just scared she was going to?
Although it was a serious story, I laughed at your question about the falling rocks. Good point!
Thanks for the great read,
Mac
Thought I'd give it a shot.
Karen looked up at the sign ahead. MONTREAL 60. She had been driving all day and here it was,60 more miles until freedom. She looked in the rear view mirror once again,praying no one was following,and was startled by her own reflection. She winced as she ran her fingers over her split lip,hoping the scar wouldn’t be too big. She wondered what Charlie was doing right now. He was probably turning the town inside out, looking for her, thinking she couldn’t have gotten very far.
For months she had planned this. She had been hording small amounts of grocery money,recycling cans,and hiding the money in her snowboots. When Nana died and left her the old Buick, she knew her chance to leave had come. Charlie would never have let her have her own car, so she kept it at Uncle Dan’s house. Thank God for her uncle. He had kept her secret and even left five hundred in cash in the glove compartment. She hoped Charlie wouldn’t give him a hard time.
60 miles to go. Karen looked in the rear view mirror once again, and wondered when she would be able to stop looking over her shoulder.
Signs, Signals and What?
“Its extremely important to obey the signs and signals Raissa!â€
“I know Mom but why must I memorize all sixty-seven signs, I’ll probably never see half of them in the entire time that I’m learning to drive?†Raissa asked.
“Sooner or later you will need to recognize them and understand what they mean.â€
“Look, there are seven basic shapes and what, five colors?†Raissa protested.
“Okay, Miss Smarty-pants, what does diamond shaped signs mean?â€
“Uh…they mean…..they mean warning!â€
“That’s correct and what are they warning you about?â€
“They are warning you that there is a curve ahead or something.†Answered Raissa.
“Warning of existing or possible hazards on the roadway my dear.â€
“Yeah, right…. that’s what I said Mom.â€
“What does that sign mean?†Mom asked pointing to the yellow diamond shaped sign with two black arrows next to each other pointing in opposite directions?â€
“I don’t know Mom. I guess it means, this is a two lane highway.â€
“I encourage you to carefully study your manual and you’ll be ready for your Driving Test in nine months Raissa. By the way, that sign means that we are leaving a separated one-way highway and will soon be driving on a two-way highway.â€
“Duh!†Raissa replied.
Great job, Beth (m)
at packing so many crucial details into such a short story. Congrats--that's how a tiny tale is supposed to be! Your beginning hooked me right away because I wanted to know if she was a criminal on the run or if not, what was she escaping.
I hope to read more of your writing!
Mac
Since your 16 year old (m)
just got his license, sounds like this might have came from a real life experience- LOL. Your dialogue was realistic and flowed nicely.
Great job, Thia_d,
Mac
Incredible Writing !
Great story (m)
I'm glad she got away from Charlie. One suggestion; I think you could/should spell out the numbers.
Fabulous Writing !
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