Daily Archives: March 4, 2011

Word After Word After Word – Chapter 2

   We sat under Henry’s huge lilac bush next to his house, the four of us: May and Henry, Evie and I. In a month or two, the smell of lilacs would fill the air.

   “So, what do you think?” I asked.

   No one said, “What do you think about what?” Everyone knew what I meant.

   “I like her,” said Evie. “Even if she sends her pathetic kids to camp all summer long.”

   “I think I love her,” said Henry. “She tells the truth.”

   “Or maybe not. Maybe she lies,” I pointed out.

   “Right,” said Hen, smiling. “Real and unreal are the same thing. So she says.”

   “What do you suppose that means?” asked May.

   No one answered.

   “Do you think she is happily married?” asked Evie thoughtfully. “She might be very good for my father.”

   “Evie, you can’t just pick out some woman for your father,” I said.

   “Why not?” said Evie. She turned and looked at me, her face fierce. “Why not?”

   Then her face crumpled and she began to cry.

   I put my arms around her.

   Henry’s mother, Junie, put her iced tea glass on the windowsill and leaned out.

   “Is everything all right out here?” she asked.

   “Fine,” said Henry.

   Junie, who knew better but didn’t say so, backed away through the window. Junie was the only mother we called by her first name because Henry did. And he called his father Max. Max worked at home because he loved Junie, and spent his time working on the computer and looking at Junie.

   “They are like kids,” said Hen once.  “Sometimes I am the grown-up. I don’t mind.”

   The steam from a pie on the table rose out the window. I watched a drop of water slip down the glass of iced tea as Evie cried on my shoulder.

   After a while Evie stopped crying and leaned back. I could feel the sudden wet coolness the tears had left on the shoulder of my T-shirt.

   “I’m a big, fat crybaby,” said Evie loudly. “Big, fat crybaby.”

   “No,” I said at the same time May did.

   “You’re not fat,” said Henry.

   Evie began to laugh then; and we all laughed, leaning back under the lilac bush, getting leaves and bits of dirt in our hair.

   “Not fat at all,” repeated Hen, making us laugh harder. I could almost see the laughter as it rose up and wound around the branches of the lilac bush, touching the blooms before lifting up to the sky. I took out my notebook.

          Sadness is

          Steam rising,

          Tears falling.

          A breath you take in

          But can’t let out

          As hard as you try.

                                                   – Lucy

The world DOWN BELOW2

        Down, down, down, they went, Larry in the lead. At last they uhhh…. “found the “end””.

         “Awesome! Now we can just find Connie and get outta here! I don’t wana miss pickle night.” Larry exclaimed.

        “Whoa, hold on hungry bob…. How do you stop this thing?!?!”


          Larry skidded, and stubbed his toe. Hopping in pain, he was only to be tripped, again, by Gilda slipping through his legs.

          “Alright, so… what were we doing?! Ohh yah…. GET UP LARRY! WATCHA DOING LAYING DOWN LIKE A LAZY PIG?!”

        “I’ve gotta cut!”

         “Well go get a  band-aid from your sport sack, dude. Be a man!”

          They started to enter the hole that Larry had stubbed his toes on. As soon as they stepped foot inside the muckky hole a drip-drip and a HUGE rumble served them a scary face and the side of  the heebee jeebees. Dessert was a mudpie, gushy and soft.

         They ignored, whatsoever. A loud echo rang in their ears, familiar.

        “What ? oh… sure um… oday ouyay peaksay glishenay?” The voice said.

        “OF COURSE; young lady. Let me introduce your to Lord Burr-……” Another voice called.

        What the……

        “Gosh! It’s Connie! Lets go find her!”

       Splashing through the mud, waving at the cobwebs, they at last they saw  dry land and an opening where the voices grew clear. As they approached the passageway, they heard a whiny voice chanting, I WANT A PICKLE YOU THING!!

        At this, 2 united siblings charged in and attempted to snatch Connie’s hand.

        “HALT OUTSIDER.”

        Ten sharp bony spears crowded around Gilda’s neck.

        “Call in Soda Souffle. Let him decide to do with this girl.”

        The spears went down, but still ready for anything.

        A stringy shadow walked toward Gilda. It was hard to make out what or who he was in the grayness of the tree. He spoke to the rest of his clan in what seemed like pig latin.

        He pressed a sharp spear into her neck.

        “Tell me, girl, where can I find a pickle for Lord Burrito Bansickle? If you don’t tell me, you going to be fed to….. The Almas.”

 Yeesh! Whats with the creepy guy? Who is the almas anyway?      

 He pressed the spear point harder until she shed one drop of blood.

        “Now. TELL ME.”