in which i pretend i am a writer
hey! i know it’s been a pretty long time since i updated, and i apologize to all my bots. sunday, january 5, i got to do my friend ivan’s wonderful storytelling show “give me fiction”. we were given about 4 weeks and the assignment to write a piece of fiction inspired by “CHANGE” that would take about ten minutes to read aloud.
i mostly wasn’t funny (at least on purpose), but think i wrote a pretty decent story. i present to you “pick it up”:
When Officer Bell arrived at Ms. Regina Green’s door, nothing about the walk up to the modest, single story, peaked roof cottage struck him as out of order. Eight panes of glass, four to the left of the door and four to the right, cast a harsh glare courtesy of the morning sun. At least he knew the windows were intact. A well-worn white wooden door was securely fashioned in its brown frame, nestled into the tan stucco exterior. Long stalks of grass sprouted up sporadically between the stones of the walkway, but it was evident from the weeds crawling along the foot of the cottage’s foundation, these were not out of the ordinary, either.
So why a safety check, then? Because she was 88 years old. Because she lived alone. Because she had no family or friends who came or went. Because every morning at sunrise, Reggie rose from her bed, bathed herself thoroughly but quickly, checked the weather on the television, and departed her home dressed accordingly. She would not return until the sun was almost set, and only seemed to travel on foot. But no one who even noticed the sharp halt in Reggie’s ritual thought anything of it. After all, she was 88.
The mail carrier called. It had been two weeks since “Ms. Green” had wrestled open that rusty tin rectangle and retrieved her mail. She had never missed a day, and when Monday became Monday twice, he was on the phone with non-emergency. Non-emergency. They’re alarmed that you’re missing, most definitely, but it’s not urgent-urgent, that’s all. You’re in a bad way, but probably not salvageable. Emergencies have possibility. He told the casual young dispatcher about the now curious pile up of mail and within 20 minutes, Officer Bell was tapping his toes and sighing at Reggie’s door. It was a sleepy town, but this seemed like a joke to the young officer.