"Caught"

By: Carisa J. Burrows

“Jackpot!”

Evelyn Turner had just found a half eaten hamburger hiding under a piece of junk mail in a city trash can. She didn’t care that it had a bit of fuzzy green mold growing on the bun. She picked it off and took a huge bite. “Mmm…still warm,” she whispered to herself as she closed her eyes and pretended it was a giant turkey leg she picked off the platter of a Thankgiving dinner table.

“Garbage Picker!”

“Bum!”

“Yeah, you stink,” mocked several boys standing at a nearby bus stop.

Evelyn knew these boys, most days she avoided them. They were always causing trouble in the town, but no one could ever catch them in the act and they knew it.

“Do it, Lukas,” yelled the oldest boy in the gang to a small boy hunched over on the bus shelter’s bench. “Do it now!”

Lukas, the small boy, just stopped and stared at Evelyn.

“Hey, Dufus Lukas, you better do it or else!”

Hesitantly, Lukas stood up and nervously reached into a plastic grocery bag that was given to him by one of the other boys. He pulled out a rotted and stringy ball of pumpkin pulp from a gutted Halloween jack-o-lantern.

“Chuck it at her!” Peter the oldest boy said

“I don’t want to Peter. I can’t,” pleaded Lukas.

Angrily, Peter grabbed some of the disgusting mess and forcefully hurled it at Evelyn. She ducked, but some seeds and a bit of the fleshy insides caught her left arm as she used it to defend herself.

Then, Peter took the rest of the pumpkin’s entrails from Lukas’ shaky hand and smashed it in his face. “I told you to do what I said or else.” Then he knocked him backwards and Lukas smacked his head on the corner of the metal grate bench. The boys laughed at what happened and ferociously looted Lukas’ back pack.

“What a baby, he has a set of colored pencils and some weird drawings in here. You like coloring pictures baby boy?”

They snapped each of the pencils in half and threw them down a nearby sewer grid. They pocketed his mp3 player, his cell phone and ripped all the pages out of his sketchbook. Evelyn watched as the awful scene unfolded.

“What are you looking at tramp?” A boy grinded his fist in his other hand threatening Evelyn with the same fate.

Dark alleys and unlit street corners were their usual stomping grounds, but this gang’s violence had now escalated to broad daylight. Peter the older boy had been to juvie hall four times. He was nineteen and still attending high school. Because of this, he always blamed those long absences on having bouts of rheumatic fever, which he knew nothing about except what he looked up on the excuses-ipedia website.

Just then, the bus approached the shelter and the boys loaded it swiftly. One of them flipped off Evelyn though the back window as she stared in disbelief.

After the bus was out of sight Evelyn reluctantly walked over to the booth. The boy was crawling out from under bench holding his head. Evelyn pulled an old rag from her coat pocket and gave it to him.

“They’re gone. Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I think so,” mumbled Lukas.

“Well, we finally caught ‘em,” Evelyn said excitedly.

Lukas pressed the rag to his cut and gave a wince in pain. “What are you talking about?”

“Its daylight….those boys didn’t know, but this bus stop has a security camera.”

Olfactory Observations

November's assignment -- a continuation of Driven to Distraction -- scroll down to read the first part of the story.


Opening the mailbox, Meredith spotted a bright green envelope. Her name and address was creatively printed across the front, as if merry little elves were playing with a brand new set of colored pencils. Tawny rubbed back-and-forth against her legs, mewing softly.

“I got it!” Meredith screamed. “I got it!” she repeated, jumping up and down with the prized piece of mail in her hand.

A woman and her son passed by on the other side of the street, witnessing the exuberant display of enthusiasm. The boy stopped and stared just long enough to catch Meredith’s eye. She waved at him as his mother grabbed his arm, pulling him to a seemingly saner place.

“Problem, lady?” Meredith yelled. “Haven’t you ever seen anyone get exactly what they wanted, huh? Better watch where you’re going…the stinkbugs might get ya!”

The protective mother quickened her steps as the boy strained to see what else the crazy lady might be doing.

“Yeee haaaa! Tawny, this is it!”

Getting caught up in the excitement, the tortoiseshell cat dashed over to the oak tree, scurried up several feet and paused before dropping back down to the mulch below. Meredith skipped down the walk to the house. As she opened the door, the smell of pumpkin roll baking in the oven sent her endorphins into an even greater frenzy, the disco ball of her brain spinning at a fevered pace. Meredith Graham had not felt this good since the Christmas of 1989 when her parents told her she was adopted. The relief and joy over finding out she was not biologically connected to the people who raised her boosted her serotonin level off the charts. This…this beautiful, wonderful, exquisite green envelope produced the same magnificent feelings. Pure, unadulterated joy.

But then, everything changed as Meredith spotted it, crawling insidiously across the crown molding, camouflaged against the stained wood.

“No!” she screamed. “I thought they were gone.”

With her heart rate climbing, she ran to the bathroom, unrolling a ribbon of toilet paper in her haste.

“I’ll get you. I’ll get you. I’ll get you.” Her voice crescendo-ing with each phrase as she mounted the couch and reached toward the ceiling. As her foot hit the slick leather, the couch slid on the hardwood floor, sending Meredith reeling backwards toward the entertainment center.

Crack. Her head hit the edge and she fell lifeless onto the braided area rug beneath her. The stink bug flew from his place of ambush, landing on the green envelope as it perched on the edge of the table in the entryway.

The sound of the smoke alarm alerted Meredith’s next-door neighbor, who, finding the front door unlocked, discovered her body. The smell of burnt pumpkin roll wafted through the house and Gerry hurried into the smoke-filled kitchen in search of the phone. Snapping the oven’s control to the off position, she opened the back door to let the smoke out and picked up the cordless. Venturing back into the living room, she dialed 911. As she was heading outside to wait for the ambulance, she noticed the menacing presence of the stink bug. Letting out a slight scream, Gerry picked up the corner of the envelope and tossed it out the door. Whatever dream-come-true the green envelope contained, it was squashed over the head of a randomly placed insect. Now doesn’t that just stink?

-- Hana Haatainen Caye

Driven to Distraction

My story for October's assignment:


“Your turn, Charlie. Hop in!” Meredith placed the jar up against the brick wall prompting the stinkbug to jump. “One hundred and sixty-two.”

Watching the pseudo-armored bug struggle against inevitable death, Meredith smiled. The watery graveyard was mucky brown with those that had suffered identical fates – death by soapy water. It was a formula she learned about on Facebook from someone calling herself “Green Grandma” who promoted environmentally-friendly ways to solve common problems. Not that the eradication of stinkbugs was all that common, mind you. Meredith could not recall a time she had ever even noticed one of these insects in the past. Now it seemed these miniature army men were threatening to overtake civilization as she once knew it, creeping their way onto her kitchen counters, into her bathroom, atop her line-dried organic bamboo bed sheets. Everywhere she turned, she saw them. The news stations were airing special reports, strangers in the grocery stores were swapping war stories, and newspapers blowing in the wind sported headlines about the problem.

Meredith herself was working on a magazine article titled, Destined to Die: The story of an American stinkbug, but so far she could not seem to get past the title. That happened often with her. She would create a dynamite heading, often perusing her trusty Thesaurus for elegant alliteration or pithy similes, and then fall flat in her effort to match up her titling abilities with an equally dynamic article.

Maybe if I just spend some time with Charlie and all his Chinese relatives, I’ll come up with something, she had thought, but then succumbed to a killing spree rivaling any she had participated in prior to this partly sunny, unusually warm October day. Thinking about the mass grave she held in her hands made Meredith start to feel itchy. First it was her shoulders and she twisted back and forth trying to reach the spots on her upper back where it felt like bugs were crawling. She could hear buzzing in her ears, the telltale sound of stinkbugs on patrol…or attack…or whatever it was they were doing.

“Vinegar!” she shouted. “I have to find some vinegar!”

Slamming the screen door behind her, Meredith started opening cabinet doors in her kitchen, pulling out bottle after bottle.

“There must be a jar of vinegar here somewhere, Tawny,” she said through gritted teeth. The cat ignored her, sauntering past her before bounding down the basement steps to his litter box. “The basement!” she exclaimed. “You are brilliant, Tawny. Of course, there’s vinegar in the basement!”

Tawny looked up at Meredith from his squatting position in the corner of the laundry room.

“Why vinegar, you ask?” Meredith directed her question to him as he scratched at the litter. “Well, because,” she continued. “Green Grandma says vinegar is the answer for everything! Remember when we watched that movie about the Greek family and the wedding?”

Tawny did not answer.

“Well, the bride’s father thought Windex was the answer, but let’s face it, Tawnmeister – Windex is not environmentally-friendly. Vinegar is!”

Retrieving the gallon jug from the cabinet above the washer, Meredith hurried up the steps, taking them two at a time. If I can find a way to eradicate these freakin’ demons, the article will write itself.

Her neck started to twitch as Meredith walked around the patio toting an almost full gallon of vinegar, without a clue as to what she was going to do with it. Realizing she was at a total loss, she went back into her office and began to type.

Dear Green Grandma…

The article would have to wait.

-- Hana Haatainen Caye

December's assignment

For the December 13th meeting, you will write four separate short, short pieces -- one will be one sentence long. The other three will be one paragraph each.

The first one should be a compelling story told in just one sentence. Here are two excellent examples:

He pulled the door shut, locking it, a make-shift group off left over wooden planks nailed together, as my stomach tensed, listening to that splintered old door scrape mournfully along the floor, groaning and snapping, until securely closed signaling the end of my childhood. (Lorene Stunson Hill)

She curled up in the last sunny sliver on the couch, and for a brief moment realized that all the exhaustion, all the tears, all the self-doubt, the pain and worry and sleepless nights had all been worth it, to have this perfect moment, staring into the tiny newborn eyes of her future. (Jen Meyercheck)

Next, are the three separate paragraphs. Start the paragraphs with the following sentences:

1. Stepping on something soft as she got out of her car, she looked down to see a black ski mask.

2. She hadn't seen the sun in days. "Just one hour...that's all I need," she pleaded...

3. Focusing only on the one she was following, Jeannine failed to notice someone closing in behind her.

There is no word count limit, but remember, these are to be kept short. We are looking for tight, compelling writing here.

Have fun with it!