“James! Are we heating the whole world now? Close the door!”
The boy groaned and complied, but not before taking one last look around the back alley. He didn’t see the door latch shut behind him, but he heard its distinctive click and felt it in his gut.
I should have made a run for it, he thought.
“James! Quit daydreaming when there’s work to do!”
“Yes, Mom,” he said, but she had already moved on to other things. This nook was the only relatively quiet place in the shop, sandwiched between the bathroom and the kitchen. Here resided the old metal shelves full of cleaning supplies and a doormat saturated with a decades worth of street salt and crumbs.
Nothing magical here, which James found comforting as the only non-magical person working at Farmers Family Bakery. In that regard, he had more in common with the mop than he did with his parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and even the stragglers who worked here all with talents that it was feeling like he’d never have.
But there wasn’t time to dwell on that, not two days before Christmas. Continue reading
Prompt: Incorporate the recent honey moon that occurred on Friday, June 13th into your story. When Sarah gave me this prompt, my thoughts immediately jumped to mythology – surely the ancients must have had some elaborate (if not necessarily scientifically accurate) story explaining this kind of phenomenon? That reminded me of the story I posed here last fall, Oh the Fates. Today’s post is a second installment of that story (with a few changes, most notably Nia is now Gia), so you may want to read that one first. This is also the story I’ll be continuing to expand this month as I participate in Camp NaNoWriMo.
“I’m going out!” I call out into the chaotic house, taking the stairs two at a time. “I have my phone but I won’t be able to answer for a while!”
Aunt Moira’s head pops out from around the corner. “Where are you going?”
“A lecture at my college. Have you seen my car keys?” I riffle through my bag with no luck. I can hear them jingling, but my fingers can’t find them. Until, wait a second, yes! “Never mind, I’m good. What?”
My aunt’s arms are crossed over her sauce-spattered apron. “School on a Friday night? In the summer?” She shakes her head. “You haven’t even eaten. Let me make you a plate first.”
I give her a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, but really I’ve got to run.” Her reply is mumbled Greek, asking the gods to watch over me. Athena has always been a favorite of Aunt Moira’s when it comes to me, but it’s only recently that Aphrodite has been getting requests on my behalf as well.
Knowledge is power. Which is to say, knowledge almost always makes things more complicated. Like when a year ago, I learned that according to my ancestors, the Greek Fates, I am destined to marry my soul mate, Apollo Marino, within a year of graduating college. Continue reading
Prompt: Tell a tale of tourism. I decided to put my own spin on this prompt. After all, you don’t necessarily have to go very far to be a tourist. This story is actually building off of an idea I started exploring in a previous SaM post and wanted to see if it has what it takes to go a little further. This isn’t the start of that idea, but in the timeline of what I’m hoping could be my next new project, this scene comes in the middle. Hence the vagueness about some things. So please pardon that, and I hope you enjoy!
“I believe you have what Southern women might refer to as a gentleman caller.” It was a statement, but the way that Jessie’s dad said it made it sound more like a question.
She looked up from her notebook and studied her father’s face. It was only recently that had the realization that Dad was aging. He’d always looked young for his age, but before college she saw him every day so she didn’t notice the changes settling in. But when she came home after months away – first at Christmas, now for the summer – his evolution was more obvious. There was more white hair at his temples, the lines around his eyes a little deeper.
But those eyes still held their sparkle, especially at the mention of a boy. Continue reading
Prompt (sort of): Your main character wakes up finding themselves the subject of an April Fool’s Day prank. So I’ve been stuck on this prompt for a while and honestly didn’t start writing anything for it until April 1st. I was completely unsure of what to do until an old premise I’d said I’d like to play with someday and in my time crunch, here’s what came out. Not my favorite, but I also don’t hate it and I hope you don’t either 🙂
As far as Nicole was concerned, there were three months of the year that had strange dates. The first was February for not having enough days. Then there was March and April. According to Nicole, there were 32 days in March and April started on the 2nd.
Anything to erase April 1st. Or at the very least ignore it.
But the truth about beliefs and people is a tricky sort of business. Because people lie to themselves all the time. Sometimes people are aware of the lies. Sometimes they believe a lie so long, they forget it was a lie (at least on the surface).
Happy New Year, Radishes! Another year of Stories by SaM, and another announcement about changes. Sarah and I have decided that we will each be posting once a month – my stories will go up on the 1st, hers on the 15th. We hope you stick with us and keep liking, commenting and subscribing!
Prompt: Start your story with something old, and end it with something new. So I didn’t exactly start this story with something old, but it gets there eventually, and it does end with a few things that are new. Happy 2014!
Charlotte didn’t throw around the word ‘hate’ very often, but when she did, she meant it with every fiber of her being.
Really, it was a relatively short list. At the moment, it only consisted of two items: 70s music (Billy Joel excluded, of course) and New Year’s Eve.
New Year’s Eve was like her senior prom six months ago. People made huge plans. Going alone was totally taboo. Dressing up was mandatory as was stupid amounts of alcohol consumption.
But the biggest way in which the two weren’t just similar but practically identical was this: neither one lived up to the hype.
Ever. Continue reading
Merry Christmas, Radishes! It’s been a while since we’ve posted here, but that should be changing soon! For the holiday, Sarah and I have both written stories that have to start with the line “Off in the distance, I hear the sound of sleigh bells” which was perfect for me because I wanted to write some Christmas-y scenes in my WIP, so I double dipped here. Happy Holidays and Stay Radish!
Off in the distance, I hear the sound of sleigh bells. The sky has yet to decide which color she’ll be today, though from my perch in the window seat of Grandpa’s old study, it’s clear that Mother Nature is determined for the snow to stick around a while longer. Midwest winters are always cold with the kinds of temperatures that bite ears and sting eyes, but I’ve lived through enough of them to appreciate that it’s actually warmed up a bit. Yesterday when I left for my last day of school before Winter Break, the thermometer said it was 9 degrees. Even through the glass, I can tell it’s not that bad. Probably around 14 if I had to guess. Continue reading
The fun with prompts continues! This story immediately popped into my head as soon as I saw what Sarah assigned me last week. And because of the weird way my mind works, I used this as an excuse to rewatch My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Read on and enjoy!
“What part of keep that thing away from me are you having trouble understanding?” I open my bedroom door just wide enough for me to duck inside, then lock it before anyone else can follow me in.
For the past 15 minutes, Aunt Moira has been chasing me around the house with the tattered little book and refusing to listen. “It is our heritage, Nia! It’s not like you didn’t know this existed.” I slide down the door and put my hands over my ears, but it’s not enough to block out the sounds of my entire family on the other side doing a really poor job of whispering.
“Of course I knew,” I say again. “But just because it’s written doesn’t mean I have to read it. Nothing says any of us have to read our Plans.” Of course it went without saying that choosing not to read it was a highly unusual choice in our family, but there was very little about our family that wasn’t unusual in the first place.
As if growing up isn’t hard enough, try being the descendants of the Fates. That’s right, they’re real, hanging out on Mount Olympus or wherever, and once upon a time that was definitely not discussed when we had our Greek mythology unit in freshmen English class, they had kids. Continue reading