GOOOD MORRRRNINGGG, STORY A DAY MAAAAAAAAAY!!!!!
There will be Steffie stories. There will be Holly Jahangiri and the Living Books stories.
This is also the first of the month, so check out my Hot Flash (micro-mini story) on my Hot Flashes page.
My prompts this year come from Holly Jahangiri (the real one) and her sidekick henchman friend Pete Laberge.
Now, shall we begin?
At first, there were just the two of us. And the twins made four.
Then he hired a nursemaid/nanny and she came. He said she must have been in the family way when she got here, but I have my suspicions. Her twins were born at about the same time as my second set.
Lois Duncan, my favorite writer when I was a teen, joked that, whenever she couldn’t figure out how to end a book, she burned a house down.
Relax. I didn’t burn the house down. I burned my bridges. I left. Left him, left her, left all the kids, moved to the other corner of the country. Yes, I left my own children. If he wants to be a Patriarch with multiple wives and descendent like the stars in the sky or grains of sand on the beach, let him change their damn diapers. Better yet, let his handmaiden do it.
But life is funny. She showed up at my apartment door–God only knows how she tracked me down. She handed me a paper with a clipping in it. The clipping said there had been a fire–no, it said a conflagration. She was the only survivor, rescued from the hallway in front of the babies’ room. Investigators ruled out arson. But there are lots of ways to set an “accidental” fire. Lord knows, I came up with plenty before I decided to simply walk away.
The paper the clipping had been folded into, on the letterhead of a psychiatrist, that she had no injury to her brain or her vocal cords, but she was unable to speak.
The psychiatrist is a fool. She speaks–speaks eloquently.
She pointed to the clipping, then to me, with her eyebrows raised. Did you do this?
“No, I did not. Did you?”
She shook her head, lank hair flapping, strands slapping her cheeks.
In spite of her vehemence, I didn’t quite believe her, and her eyes said plainly that she didn’t believe me.
Why did I let her move in, you ask? I couldn’t really say. But here we live, the three of us: her, me, and the Question.
This post is part of Linda G. Hills weekly blog hop, One-Liner Wednesday. If you have a one-liner or just like them, follow the link.
MY PROMPT TODAY: 241543903