Last Moments of Prehistoric Proportions [FICTION]

“Greta, I’m so glad we are doing this.”

“Me, too, Cecile.” Greta brushed one of her legs reassuringly against her friend as they scurried uphill to the heart of the university, the ornate, church-like building that housed the bursar’s office.

“I hope Jude wasn’t lying about the smorgasbord of treats.”

“You’ve seen Jude, do you think he’s lying?”

“He is the fattest cockroach I’ve ever seen.”  Cecile laughed again.

“Okay. No more chatter. We need to make it inside before the brightest light comes out.”

~~~

At the top of the hill, Cecile and Greta surveyed the lowest above ground stones of the cathedral of financial services. They tapped their antenna on the stone, detecting only solid rock.

“Is this the place?” Cecile whispered.

“How would I know? I’ve never been here,” Greta snapped peevishly.

“Ladies, at last,” a breathless voice greeted them from a gap between two stones. “Come in. Come in. I saved a couple good crumbs for you.”

The girls exchanged a look, but the sweetness of his breath offered reassurance. They squeezed through the narrow crack in the mortar. After scurrying through manynarrow tunnels, they finally stepped out into a larger opening. 

“Welcome, ladies,” a couple of chubby cockroaches cheered, raising large crumbs in salute.

“Thanks,” Greta and Cecile mumbled titling their heads toward the concrete floor shyly.

Jude shuffled away, only to return with two giant crumbs of pastry. “You will love this. Trust me.”

They nibbled tentatively at first and then devoured the crumbs with gusto. Jude laughed at their enthusiasm and waddled off to get refills. He kept bringing more until they finally waved him off, begging for a moment to rest their digestive systems.

~~~

Days passed in this manner, enjoying the crumbs brought back by more adventurous roaches until they feared becoming cockroach piñatas. But this time, Greta and Cecile wanted to find their own repast. Today, they would see more of their new world and earn heir keep. As they skittered across the floor, it rumbled under their feet. Over the past couple of weeks, they learned that vibrations such as these warned them of the movement of humans through the halls. Movement this subtle, however, assured them that only one lone human stayed to work into the twilight. They moved away from the source of the rumbling, following a trail of crumbs so small even the most meticulous janitor would miss them.

At the end of the trail, they discovered an overturned trash bin. Beside it, alluring odors wafted from an open box. The two friends couldn’t resist feasting. Finally sated, they grabbed as much as they could carry and headed back toward the nest. As they passed an open door, a shadow fell across their path. Cecile and Greta looked up in alarm, clutching their spoils closer.

Long dark hair cascaded across the towering human’s face as she yelped in surprise and darted into the open doorway. Cecile and Greta barely had time to exchange glances before the woman returned. In her hand, she held an enormous cylinder. Cecile and Greta dropped their food, covered their faces, and curled into themselves as the intense breeze emitted by the can swept them down the hallway. The obscenities didn’t stop raining down on them until they come to rest ten feet from where they started. The human disappeared back into her office. The door loudly banged closed.

The friends tried to find their feet, but sluggishness overtook their limbs. They reached for each other. Somehow they mustered enough energy to touch their front legs together.

“Cecile, we shouldn’t have gone adventuring.”

“As delicious as adventures are, we clearly weren’t made for them.”

They laughed hoarsely, feeling the world around them dimming as their bodies betrayed them. In those last moments, Greta and Cecile realized entering the light had been a bad idea. Up until this point, they had led the perfect life. Scurrying about in the dark. Collecting scraps of food that fall to the floor or roll under the fridge or stove. The latter brought Greta greater joy as they slowly roasted toward becoming charcoal every time the oven turned on. Sometimes they even rolled into some grease or crumbs and garnered extra flavor. Now they waited to die on the cold tile floor as poison seeped through their veins and caused their limbs to jitter uncontrollably.

“Cecile, we shouldn’t have let academia and its pleasures tempt us.” Greta’s mind can’t acknowledge that she has already said something similar to this as her vision finally fades to nothing.

“Yes, my friend. We should have known they would have the wisdom to think taking our lives would make their world better.”

Rushing footsteps and excited voices drown out the final tiny cockroach sobs.

 

~A dear friend requested that I write on this particular topic in April of 2018. I am a slacker who must do penance. Since her birthday is on Sunday, I crafted this little gift. Happy birthday to the President of the Nerdy Grinch Fan Club. I hope you get a chance to use a protractor and pinch some green cheeks.~

Awake to Oblivion? [FICTION]

“Wake up. That’s right. Now I want you awake.” The owner of the rough voice accompanies his request with a swift kick to my ribs.

I force my eyes open, dazedly observing that a heavy work boot encases the foot bringing so much damage and pain to my side. As I watch him wind up for another kick, I get a feeling that I have more important things to worry about than my ribs. That doesn’t stop me from wondering how many of them are broken as the boot connects again.

“The bomb,” I mumble, but I don’t recognize the words when they escape my lips.

“I don’t know what you’re saying, honey, but it sounded as terrible as you look,” he giggles as he crouches down in front of me, pushing his face so close to me that I can smell onions on his breath.

I wrinkle my nose and try to pull away, limited by the pain that courses through my head after my neck turns past a certain point. He laughs again as he watches my face.

“You can’t get away from me. But don’t worry. I won’t hurt you. I can’t promise that my creation here won’t once I walk away though.” He pats the bomb lovingly.

With his head turned away from me, I let my eyes wander over the components of the bomb that I can see from this vantage point. My head throbs as I begin to recall what I saw when I was examining the bomb to deactivate it.

“I’d love to stay and get better acquainted, but if this building isn’t rubble by 10:30, I lose my commission.” He winks and turns away.

His heavy boots pound the floor almost as enthusiastically as they pounded my side to wake me up. A door slams closed. I listen for a minute and then ignore my aches and pains as I focus on my bindings. The lack of circulation to my hands has them tingling with pain, so I can’t determine how tight he bound them. I twist my wrists this way and that, surprised to find the feeling returning along with double the pain. I keep twisting while pulling my thumb and pinky in as far as I can. One of my hands slips through the loop binding it, leaving the fiery forerunner of a painful rug burn. As I bring my hands around and massage them, I struggle to sit up. The rope lashing my ankles together gives more resistance, but soon I am free—hobbled but free.

I crawl to the bomb, examining it again. As the throbbing in my head increases its rhythm, I struggle to assess all the wires and connections of the bomb. At last, I shrug my shoulders, put my hand on a wire, and close my eyes.

“At least I’ll die on my own terms.” I assure myself and pull the wire free.

I keep my eyes closed for a count of thirty before opening them slowly. I focus on my hand and the wire clenched between two fingers. It has pulled free from the bomb. The clock has stopped counting down at sixteen.

“I didn’t die.” I whisper.

“I didn’t die.” I shout for joy.

The door opens slowly behind me and I turn toward it, heart racing. My heart rate calms as two men in familiar black gear enter the room. They clear the room and come forward to check on me.

“Good job. When we saw the suspect step out looking so satisfied, we were worried we lost you.” The first man says.

“So you came into a building with a bomb?” I gasp.

“We knew you’d disarm it if you had the use your teeth.”

“…or come back from the dead.”

~~It’s somebody somewhere’s birthday, so Happy Birthday to you. May your day be the kind of bomb that doesn’t blow up stuff…unless you are the Mythbusters—it is kind of their job to blow things up.~~

A New Game [FICTION]

Maura woke to find her bedroom bathed in green light. She sighed as she shoved her feet into slippers. Then a squeal escaped as paper crumpled under her toes.

“Mother,” she groaned as she bent over to snatch out the paper in the toe of her left slipper.

“Come and find me gold. If ye dare.” Dark green crayon scrawled on lime green paper.

“Not another scavenger hunt.” She grumbled as she she wiggled her toes in her now empty slipper.

She shuffled down the hallway, calling out for her mother. Not surprised to receive no response, she persisted in calling out as she stomped down the stairs. 

“Come on, mom, I don’t want to play this game…” She meant to say more but the spectacle awaiting her in the kitchen stole her words away.

Boxes of cereal, with a leprechaun grinning from each one, lay upturned on the counter. Only cereal remained. Someone had eaten or otherwise disappeared every marshmallow. She stepped closer just to be sure. A splatter of green goo dripped from the ceiling above the blender. She shuddered as a large glob splashed against the counter.

Scrawled in green dry erase marker on the whiteboard, a message declared, “Clean my mess to find my rainbow.”

Maura rolled her eyes and began cleaning up the mess. Halfway through cleaning up the cereal, she found another message. A piece of tape held a slip of paper to the counter. It contained a single letter: “R”. She lifted it up and flipped it over.

“Find more color where dad loves to be.”

She pondered this for a moment before striding determinedly into the living room. The imaginary leprechaun hadn’t wreaked havoc in this room. She surveyed every inch then marched to her father’s recliner. After a minute of searching its crevices, she finds the next letter: “O”.

Its cryptic message: “Your mother tells me you’ll go crazy trying to figure out what is yellow.”

“Ha! Too easy, mom,” Maura called out on her way back to the kitchen.

She lifted the banana stand and found the “Y” taped to the bottom. “Your mother knows you will never get to the bottom of this green. You’ll freeze at the thought.”

She wrinkled up her nose and opened the freezer door. She riffled through the frozen vegetables, pulling out every one that was green. She surveyed the selection of the world’s least desirable foods. Finally, she picked up the box of frozen Brussel sprouts and turned it over in her hand, examining it closely. Unable to find a clue on the outside, she opened it and dumped the contents onto the counter. She eyed the plastic sleeve filled with little green balls with distaste before slowly lifting it up and shuffling them around. Frowning at the factory sealed bag, she picked the box up and peered inside. A carefully folded slip of paper has been wedged into the bottom of the box. Deft fingers revealed a “G” on one side and “Blue skies are shining on me” on the other.

“This leprechaun doesn’t want me to be at this too long,” she called out loudly as she headed toward the door.

She glanced around the back porch and into the backyard. Nothing caught her eye, so she paced the floor to the front door. A quick survey of the front porch didn’t yield a quick clue either. She closed her eyes and stepped further onto the porch, turning slowly to look again. Something niggled at her. Scanning her surroundings slowly, she noticed a ribbon dangling over the back of the wicker couch her mother loved so much.

She grabbed the ribbon and pulled on it. A light blue kite appeared with fluffy clouds carefully painted upon it. Attached to one of the wooden dowels giving it shape is the “B”.

“Indigo is almost blue. Where do we leave more blue for you?”

After pondering this, she returns to her bedroom. She knelt next to the bottom drawer and began pulling out blue jeans. She unfolded and shook each one. When that produced nothing, she began checking each pocket. She finally found a scrap of paper in the darkest blue pair. 

“At last.” She exclaimed as she flipped from “I” to “Violet is a hard one to find, so find delicious purple again.”

“Delicious? The kitchen again?” Maura stomped back into the kitchen. “I’m not the one obsessed with getting steps, mother. That’s you.”

She threw open the door to the refrigerator and pulled out the fruit drawer. Nestled inside were some of the deepest purple grapes ever grown on the vine. She lifted them up, surprised to find nothing underneath. She grumbled and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet to slowly pour them into. Halfway through this task, the rolled up piece of paper slipped out. For this one, her mother selected such dark, royal purple paper that she struggled to read anything. Finally, she deciphered “V” and “Come wish me top of the morning in the biggest green item your mother owns.”

“She’s been hiding in the garage this whole time,” Maura declared in triumph.

True to her deduction, her mother waited inside their green SUV, watching a movie on the built in DVD player. As soon as Maura opened the door, triggering the lights, her mother stopped the movie and leaped from her vehicle.

“Me darlin’, ye’ve found me and me pot of gold,” She held out a plastic cauldron filled with chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil.

Maura didn’t take it, just stared in shock at her mother. She had piled her auburn hair under a jaunty green top hat. Her smile gleamed from amidst a bushy red mustache and beard. A carefully tailored green suit managed to somehow hide her curves. She even slumped over to make herself appear even shorter than her barely five foot height.

“This makes all that fuss worth it,” Maura recovered enough to pull out her phone and snap a few pictures.

“I want one with you,” her mother grabbed her and pulled her close for a selfie.

~Don’t let this story convince you that this needs to be your new Saint Patrick’s Day tradition. I am one of those “lazy” moms who isn’t going to make it look like a leprechaun peed in your toilet and I may have expressed my opinions on shelving an elf in my own odd way. That may have been my most beloved post of 2020, actually, but that is neither here nor there.~

Catch Your Prize [FICTION]

Hoping this is the last snow of the year, I peel off one glove to pluck the note from my windshield.

“The item you value most now belongs to me— unless you follow my simple instructions. Bring your baseball glove to the field two blocks from the high school tonight at dusk.”

I shake my head and hurriedly slip into my car. I toss the paper on the passenger seat and head home. By then, I have warmed up and almost forgotten the mysterious missive. I remember it immediately when I enter my house. My wide eyes rest on an empty wall.

When I moved into my tiny cottage, the first decoration that went up was a family picture that includes four generations of my family. Though my great grandparents passed away years ago and my grandmother essentially checked out on us as her mind betrayed her, I feel like they are near me every time I step into my house. Except today. They are not gazing back at me from their accustomed place.

I drop my bag to the floor and race back to my car. As I smooth out the note and read it again, my mind reels. I have never played baseball, nor do I have a glove. I stumble back inside with the note clutched in my hand. The wall remains barren. On the shelf under where it hangs, a battered baseball glove sits, waiting for me to slip it on.

I step forward to gaze at it in confusion. Without thinking, I pick it up, feeling its weight in my hands. I pull it over my left hand, surprised at how well it fits. The supple leather almost gleams with a fresh coat of oil. 

“What on earth do you have to do with getting my picture back?” I ask, laughing as I realize I half expect it to give me an answer. “I guess I will find out at dusk.”

~~

As the sun sets, I sit in my parked car, looking out at the baseball field suspiciously. Every base stands empty. Even the wind doesn’t cross the pitcher’s mound. My car sits alone in the parking lot. I wait for someone else to come, but the sun sinks lower and lower. As it reaches the lowest point of the horizon, I sigh and grab the glove. As I step from the car, a cool breeze blows around me, blowing my hair into my eyes.

The sound of tires turning into the gravel lot bring my head up and around. I stare at a parade of cars entering the lot. I recognize most of them. As they take spots and people pour out of the cars, I look down at the glove and remember suddenly that I have seen it before. My grandfather walks to me at a speed that is now his run and throws his arms around me.

“I knew you’d understand, honey,” he whispers in my ear as he holds me close.

Over his shoulder, I see my mother and father helping a familiar figure out of the backseat of their car, and I whisper back, “Is that grandma?”

“Yes, dear. She wanted to play catch with you.”

“She did?”

“Yes. The nurse says this might her last lucid moment before she joins her mother and father.” His voice catches at this last statement, but he pushes through like the strong soldier he has always been. “So we all wanted to share it with her.”

As I wipe tears from my eyes, I remember what brought me here in the first place. “Wait. You stole my picture?”

“Tsk. I’m in that picture. I borrowed it. It is already back on your wall. I wanted to make sure you showed up.”

“You could have just asked me.”

“But that wouldn’t have been as fun for me.” He winks and takes my arm to lead me to my grandmother.

She enfolds me in her arms. “You made it, dear. And you have my glove.” She gently runs a finger along its soft surface. “I’m so glad you’ve finally agreed to play catch with me.”

“My pleasure, grandma.”

~~We all want our last moments with those we love to be filled with love. Knowing this might be the last time we see them on earth is hard though. So many of my friends seem to be struggling with that right now. Know that I love you and you will see your loved ones again.~~