Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: The Editor (05/27/10)
- TITLE: Writing Today?
By Karlene Jacobsen
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No one dared move. Her beauty struck every man dumb in their awe of her lovely charm–
The souls of there feet did not ware out, nor did there cloths fade in the sun.” There… one good sentence…
“Listen Gladys,” I spin around to the nag behind me. “You promised to be quiet if I let you remain in the room while I work.”
“Well, obviously you need me, my dear.” She whips a nail file out of her pocket and begins shaving back the corners of her forefinger. “Honestly, you’ll make others blow chunks if you let them read that drivel.” Her gaze fixes on her nails. “Besides, everyone who is anyone knows that feet do NOT have souls, they have soles, and they don’t ware out, they wear out . . . and your rendition of their, is a possessive plural pronoun. Therefore, it ought to be spelled t–h–e–i–r not t–h–e–r–e…” I loathe her pride-filled grin as she continues to manicure her hands.
“Fine, but you broke your promise to remain SILENT.” I find it quite irritating that she feels alright with correcting me in front of my muse.
“All right is two words, Dear.”
“Grrrrr…” She reads my thoughts too?
“Of course I do, Love; how else would I know that you mean me no ill when you threaten to throw me in the dungeon? However, I do believe you give Lily-belle far too much attention. I’d say my importance outweighs hers by… oh… well we are oceans apart in importance.” Her Sketcher-clad feet climb the side of my desk coming to rest on top where my notes lay. I HAVE HAD IT!
“It’s time for you to go.” I grab her by the wrist and attempt to force her from her perch on my desk chair. MY desk chair!
“Oh, but you ne-e-e-ed me.” Her eyes meet mine, defiance setting her jaw rigidly.
“Not NOW, I don’t.” Impetuous little scamp. She’s always interrupting play time with Lily-belle.
“I heard that.” We glare at each other just long enough for me to make my decision.
I lunge for her. “Ggggggrrrrrrrrhh!” My hands wrap around her neck and I wrench her from the chair. “It’s time for you to go to your room.” Gladys always ruins my fun. I fume.
“Go ahead, keep that thought.” Lily-belle whispers into my ear. “Alex and Jen will be so proud.” She peers over my shoulder at Gladys, pokes her fingers into each ear and screws up her face in some of the most interesting contortions and sings, “Nah-nah-nananah… I win… you lose… Annie loves me more than yoooou!”
In that moment, I have to agree with Lily-belle. Gladys has grated my last Swiss-nerve. I cling to my irritation as we near Gladys’s room. She wiggles violently until her rail-thin body slides through my fingers and out of my grasp.
The chase is on. She jumps on my sofa, taunting me, “Catch me if you dare… oops, that’s cliché…” she giggles. “Annie is queen of cliché. Annie loves to string along big words no one understands, like superfluous, mittimus and pullulate. I wonder if she could make them work in a sentence. Annie loves ellipses… and the semicolon; the dash – and the exclamation point! She uses them in a perfunctory manner. Annie –”
I leap, landing on her. We roll onto the floor and struggle. I pull her thinning brown hair. Her fresh manicure digs into my shoulders. “AGH!” Which one of us screams in pain, I cannot say. Our voices meld into one during our ferocious battle for… I cannot say how long, either.
It isn’t until I hear the door close that I realize I am not alone. I look up. My hair falls out of its ponytail and clings to my tongue. Joe, my sweet husband looks down at me, his thumbs hooked in denim pockets. His lips curl into a silly grin, nearly touching the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
“What’s so funny?” Irritated… he should find my situation humorous.
Glancing at my laptop, he snickers, “Writing today?”
Hmph! I WOULD be writing if Gladys left Lily-belle’s creativity alone. “Yes Dear,” I brush the hair from my face, push the couch cushion aside, and force my breathing to settle, “I was considering a murder scene.”
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