Tag Archives: writing

The Harry Potter Midnight Show

“Oh shoot!” she said from the other room. I looked up from my laptop.

“What’s up?”

“The Harry Potter midnight show is sold out.”

I was a bit surprised.

“Are you serious?”

“Of course! I wanted to go!”

She’s so silly.

“Have you even looked at the fridge lately? I know I do most of the cooking but you must go in there sometimes, at least for the milk to put on your cereal.”

“Why?”

“Duh I bought the tickets last week.”

“You DID?”

She ran to the kitchen first, made a funny little squeak and then came in and hugged me rather violently.

“You’re the BEST! I can’t believe you did that for me!”

“Who said the other ticket was for you? There’s this hot busty girl who moved in across the street…”

She smacked me on the arm.

“Ouch! Now I really am taking her!”

“Oh haha.”

I put my arm around her and pulled her onto the couch with me.

“I didn’t buy it to be nice. I want to go.”

“You do?”

“Sure! Have you ever been to a midnight show? It’s so much fun.”

“I know! It’s so exciting to see it before anyone else! Well, besides the people in there with you. But you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, true, but that’s not why I go.”

She pulled away looked at me with a note of skepticism. “Then why?”

“I love seeing the people dress up. Did you know I once saw a three-hundred pound bald man dressed as Harry Potter? I swear. Even had the lightning bolt scar.”

“For real?”

I nodded. “It’s cute when the little kids dress up, but that’s just insane. I can’t wait to see what people do for the movie. It’ll be fun.”

She looked at me for another moment, kissed me and went back into the other room. I picked my laptop back up, situated it a bit, and turned a page in the copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows I was hiding from her.

The Best Burger

Photograph by Gina Esguerra. Click the photograph for her amazing blog.

He opened the car door as if to get out when she stopped him,

“We drove an extra hour for this?”

“Trust me…best burger and fries I have ever had.”

“Where are we, anyway?” she said as she gathered her giant sunglasses and wallet and placed them into her Coach purse.

“Rosie’s Den. Arizona. Look, it’s on the steps!”

“Grand,” she said as she got out of the car. “Wait, where are my sunglasses?”

“You just put them in your bag. Look at these windows! Can you believe this?”

“You can’t even see inside there’s so much shit hanging in them.”

“Hmm, I was actually going to say there’s less stuff than I remember.”

She walked to the door and waited for him to catch up and open the door for her.

“Since when do you wait for me to hold the door?”

“It’s filthy…I didn’t want to touch it.”

He placed his hand on the small of her back as she passed him, then followed her inside.

The fluorescent lights by the door flickered as they entered, buzzed a bit and she turned in an attempt to leave, but he stopped her. “Trust me,” he said to her as an old woman with an obvious mustache in a vintage waitress outfit which was too small for her age approached them, her short skirt revealing antique, wrinkly legs with more varicose veins than either had ever seen.

“Hi! Two, please,” he told her in a cheery voice as his girlfriend shuddered. She clutched her purse tight against her chest as they were led to a booth right next to a bright Arizona Lottery sign in the window.

“Ugh, these windows are filthy! Don’t they ever wash them?”

“How could they with all that stuff on them?” he asked.

She shrugged as the waitress brought them menus. “I’m Flo,” she said.

“Really?” he asked.

“Yes, really,” she said with a bitter tone. “Do you want to hear the specials? Because I’m not wasting my breath if you already know what you want.” She took a cigarette out and lit it.

“Um…you know that’s illegal these days, right?” she asked the waitress.

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”

“We already know what we want,” he said, picking up both menus and handing them back to Flo. “We’ll each have a burger and fries with a chocolate milkshake.”

Flo took both menus from his hand and practically stomped off as if this weren’t part of her job.

“There are things hanging from the ceiling back there covered in flies. This table looks as if it hasn’t been washed in ages. And did you see the cook back there?” She nodded toward the kitchen, which they could see through an order counter. Flo brought a burly balding man their order. He wore a filthy wifebeater covered in what could be years of spills, his hairy chest sticking out of it. “He is disgusting.”

“Just you wait. This burger is the best thing you’ve ever eaten. I guarantee it.”

A loud sizzling noise emitted from the kitchen as he said that as if to support his point.

She started rooting through her purse for something and started pulling out objects as she searched. Hair brush. Makeup. Birth control pills. Wallet. Finally she found what she was looking for, a wet-nap.

“There’s a bathroom.”

“I am not finding out what the bathrooms look like here. I’d rather use a port-a-potty.”

“You won’t use those when we go to football games.”

“Exactly.”

He started to look around at the many items hanging in the old diner. Random papers hung next to the register on the window; a few were bad checks while others seemed to be orders from companies they were awaiting. The open sign flickered a bit as Flo was suddenly next to them with their meals, which she slammed down in front of them a little too hard, throwing a few fries off each plate.

“Anything else?”

“No, I think we’re good,” he said with a huge smile.

He waited.

“What?”

“I want to see you try this.”

She sighed and picked up the burger. A quick turn showed the cheese sliding down the edges, a thick burger and a roll that had seen better days. As she sunk her teeth into it a pickle started to escape from the other side, but that didn’t matter. Her eyes widened as she savored the bite. She chewed with precision and finally swallowed the bite.

“Well?”

She smiled. “I hate when you’re right.” She sunk her teeth into another chunk of the burger as he picked his up.

“See? Told you.”

“Oh my God, it is SO good.”

He took a bite and did the same, except he frowned at the burger and looked at it as he chewed.

“What is it, hun?”

He put it down.

“Hmm. It’s not as good as I remembered.”

 

Look Both Ways

He was nervous for their date. Did he look okay? Should he have brought nicer flowers? Were daisies enough? He stared up at the red brick building where she lived. He was a few minutes early, probably best if he waited a moment. He looked up, counting the windows until he found the one she’d described to him. A little wind chime hung in the open window and after straining to listen he could hear the faint tinkling noise of the pieces of metal hitting each other ever-so-slightly in the mild breeze.

He crossed the street and checked his hair in the side mirror of a truck. Should he have gotten it cut? Then it would have that freshly cut look. If only he’d planned ahead and stopped by the barbers a few days ago.

The sun was getting lower, and half of her building was now in the shadow of the larger apartment building across the street. He looked down at his shoes and thought about the other pair he had on before a last-minute change at home. Should he have stuck with the chucks? He looked down at his button-down plaid shirt and noticed one side was longer than the other. Phew! Good catch. He unbuttoned and then righted the shirt, rebuttoning it.

He looked at his pocket watch. It was time. Exactly on time. He noticed she was always on time for work, the little coffee shop attached to his building. He couldn’t believe after hundreds of coffees he doesn’t even like that he finally got the nerve to talk to her, sit with her during her break, bring her little, thoughtful presents, and finally ask her out. And here he was, nervous like a little kid on the first day of school. He stepped out into the street and jumped as a truck honked its horn. He forgot to check for safety, and didn’t make the mistake again, looking both ways before crossing. As he approached the building he noticed a rectangular flower basin on a small brick wall and then saw it: the plant he’d given her the other day. She’d planted it.

With newfound conviction he walked up and pushed the little button that had her name next to it.

Flash Fiction Published!

I’m proud to announce a collection of my stories was published in a lovely publication called The Fifteenth Dame Lisbet Throckmorton Anthology:


Click the image to order the book on Amazon. It was an honor to be selected with such beautiful stories and talented writers.

My collection are a bunch of short flash fiction pieces that take place in a coffee shop. There are two sections, Despair and Hope, some of the stories continuing from the Despair section to the Hope section. I’m really excited! Here are a few example flashes:

She removes her hood, as directed.  He wants to see her eyes as she ends it.  She sighs and takes a sip of tea.  He spins his mug of coffee on the saucer, noticing the tiny cracks in the glaze.

~

From above, all that could be seen was two people calmly reading.

From below, all that could be seen was a serious, ongoing foot war.

~

It was their first date, blind at that, and conversation was fairly smooth.  But he knew it would all work out because as she ate her giant marshmallow square, she broke a piece off, rolled it into a bite-sized, mouth-appropriate ball in the palms of her hands, and carefully regarded it between her finger and thumb before popping it into her mouth.

~

She loved sipping the hot rooibos tea but regretted her decision to sit inside on such a nice, clear night.  She looked out the window with an air of regret, but lacked the initiative to move.

 

Vintage Kermit

“When did our bookshelf become all Rainbow Connection?”

She looked up from her copy of Dave Egger’s You Shall Know Our Velocity and shifted her weight in her favorite reading spot, the moon chair they’d bought at Urban a few years before.

“I found it in my parents’ attic! Can you believe it? Really brings me back.”

He picked up the vintage Kermit and made it wave at her. She smiled.

Kermit’s hand got stuck on his sweater and he had to pull it off. “What the…he has Velcro on his hands!”

“And feet!” she added. “Neat huh? He used to hang from my doorknob as a kid. He guarded it so monsters wouldn’t get me.”

He laughed and started propping the doll on the shelf with his back blocking her view.

“Don’t make him do anything perverted!”

After a quick dirty look, he went back to work. “Come on, I have the utmost respect for Muppets.”

She relaxed a bit in the chair. “You don’t understand, Kermit was my favorite. My dad gave him to me before he…left. I cried more tears into that toy than anything else I own. My dad used to sing Muppet songs to me. The show theme song or Mahna-Mahna when I was down, Rainbow Connection before bed.”

He turned and joined her in the chair for a hug.

“Thanks.”

“Check him out!” he said with a huge smile, clearly proud of himself.

She looked over to see Kermit sitting with his legs crossed and his hands folded on his lap.

“I love it.”

Asking Permission

Available on my ETSY.

A Bad Day

She faced her fear – the big, bad city – on the off chance she would get the job. A cab splashed her as if she were in a movie, so she was waterlogged as she entered the waiting area. The couches were filled by people with portfolios fancier or larger than hers, in some instances both. The room was past the maximum occupancy of confidence, none of it hers. Not to mention during the interview, her potential boss apparently had a cat, so she sneezed her way through most of her answers.

After that tragedy, she decided that her trip to the city shouldn’t be a total waste and stopped at a little café that looked like it was taken right from a French film. She sat at a table outside and ordered a chai latte, watching cars drive by, listening to the constant sounds of city life: horns, passing conversations, even some construction that sounded a block or so away soundtracked her moment, which she was actually starting to enjoy. Maybe the city wasn’t so bad.

That’s when her phone rang and she recognized the number of the place she’d just interviewed. She gasped and fumbled with the phone a bit, excited that they would call so fast.

“Hello, Miss Jason?” a voice on the other line said.

“Oh it’s actually Jansson,” she corrected as she fixed her hair and smiled.

“We just wanted to let you know you left your portfolio here. Please come and get it by the end of the day or it will be discarded.” At that they hung up.

Her eyes glassed up but she refused to let it phase her. After calmly finishing her drink, she headed back to building that already held such miserable memories and rushed up the two flights of stairs, unwilling to wait for the elevator. She wanted out of this office, this building, this city as fast as she could.

After snatching her portfolio from the obnoxious receptionist’s hand she rushed the few blocks back to her car only to find her windshield adorned with a parking ticket.

She yanked it out from under the wiper, got into the car, and drove home as fast as she could.

When Grandpa Was a Kid

This, along with many others, is available for sale on my Etsy.

An Elevator, Groceries and a Dog

He walked up to the elevator, which seemed to be taking a lot longer than usual. A young woman stood with seven grocery bags wrapped around her wrists with four more resting on the floor under the buttons while another waited with a dog calmly sitting on the cold linoleum floor.

The bell on the elevator dinged and waited that moment that always occurs between the bell sound and the doors opening and he watched as the grocery girl stood there, just staring at the bags she wasn’t currently holding. He had no idea how she’d even carried so much from the market to the building.

“Can I help you with those?” he asked her.

She laughed awkwardly and nodded. “I was just trying to figure out how I would get them on before the doors closed.”

He returned a laugh, grabbed her bags and carried them onto the elevator. The girl with the dog hit the five button and looked at both of them expectantly.

“Oh I’m on five too.”

“Seven,” she said. “Feel free to put the bags by my feet.”

“No problem,” he said as he followed her instructions.

“Thanks so much,” she said with a smile. He nodded as the doors opened and he followed the girl with the dog out.

As the doors shut and the elevator slid away, the girl with the dog said, “What, do you have a thing for her or something?”

“No,” he responded. “I have a thing for helping my fellow human beings.”

Heart-shaped Leaf

ⓒLynn Wiles Photography. Click on the image for her photography blog.

Her soft hand was in mine, MINE! My hand, covered in black ink from my long day of work. I still couldn’t get over that she was my girlfriend. She must have been reading my mind because she lifted my hand and inspected it.

“Look at all that ink. Don’t you ever wash your hands at work?”

I probably blushed a bit, but guys don’t blush so I won’t admit it.

“I can’t take the time to wash my hands every time ink splatters on them! The book would never get done.”

“I know hun, I’m just teasing you. I love your work.”

She pulled me to the right and into Central Park.

“Let’s walk through the park. It’s Fall…the leaves look beautiful.”

I let her pull me in the direction of the picturesque foliage.

“It’s almost like the trees are on fire! Look at that one!” she said as she tugged me yet again as if my arm were a leash.

“Oh my God! Look at that!” she gasped and pointed at a tiny leaf that looked oddly like a heart. “Do you have your camera?”

“Nope, but I have something better!” I said as I pulled a mini sketchpad and Sharpie from my pocket. Her smile forced me into a smile as well as she sat on a nearby bench, crossed her legs and pulled the end of her plaid dress over her knees. I watched for another moment as she started pulling on the curls of her long brown hair. She caught me looking and smiled.

“Get drawing, Picasso.”

“Picasso wouldn’t – never mind,” I responded. She crinkled her nose and I got to work drawing the leaf. It turned out pretty good, I thought. She ran over after I put the cap back on the Sharpie.

“Can I see?”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

I grinned. “You can see it on our anniversary.”

“But that’s a few months away!”

“Guess you’ll have to stick around awhile then, huh,” I said with a smirk.

Special thanks to Lynn Wiles for allowing me to use her photograph.