The Eyes and the Storm

This is a piece I'm working on for my workshop. It is actually part of a bigger idea-in-progress. I posted another part of it a while back. I haven't figured out how the two parts will go together, as far as a timeline is concerned. Currently, I think this will end up coming before the other. If you're interested in reading the companion piece, you can find it here.

_____________________________

A cold wind kicked up across the lake. The clouds came in slowly, bearing the heavy burden of rain. The sunlight winked out, smothered by the smoky gray-black thunderhead.

The surface of the lake bucked and thrashed against the wind; the last remaining boats fluttered back to dock just as the first bullets of rain struck the tormented lake.

Cal watched from his perch on the window seat as the sky spilled out its sadness, cast a deceiving dusk-dark shadow over the midday sun. 

He felt a small but firm tug on the cuff of his pant leg and he rocked back on his heels to make room for his sister, who scampered up next to him and pressed both hands and nose to the chilled pane of glass. Her hot breath teased up a ghostly fog on the glass. With one precise little finger, she turned it into a frowning face.

“Rainin,” she said.

Cal nodded and hugged his knees to his chest, crossed his legs at the ankle. “Uh-huh.”

“Guess we can’t go swimming today, huh?” Cecelia turned her big blue eyes up at him, a glimmer of hope still hidden behind her mask of responsible acceptance.

“‘Fraid not,” Cal said, and the glimmer faded. “Maybe tomorrow, yeah?” He nudged Cecelia gently with his shoulder and let a small but encouraging smile play across his lips.

Cecelia perked up, though reluctantly. “Yeah, I guess. Maybe.”

Cal turned back to watch as sheets of rain cascaded down across the sky. He could see the small rowboat he built with his father teeter back and forth on the top of the water, straining against the dock line. A jagged spear of lightning fell from the sky, lit up the lake briefly, leaving an eerie stain behind Cal's eyelids. He counted the seconds, making it to three before the heavy groan of thunder came.

In truth, Cal was glad of the rain, of Cecelia not swimming. He still didn’t trust the water—not the water or the eyes it held.

Tucker's New Sweater

-a word+photo-told story by Sarah E. Thomas

-- -- -- -- --

Once upon a time, there was a small, energetic bundle of fur, excitement, and love.

This little bundle just so happened to be named Tucker.

Sometimes this particular bundle would find himself galavanting about outdoors on days where the weather was a little less than warm. It was on days like this when he ended up calling it quits sooner than he really wanted to, retreating to the door and barking to be let back in.

He loved being outside, but it didn't take much to cool his little short-haired body down.

But one day, while shopping for clothes, Tucker's loving and devoted pet human, Sarah, spotted an absolutely adorable little gray sweater. And it was made just for dogs!

"Mom!" she cried, ecstatic even as she held up the little item proudly. "Wouldn't Tucker just love this?"

Her mom nodded in response, already in line with a few things of her own.

Sarah beamed at the sweater, happy to find that it was indeed in the proper size to fit her little pup. The purchase was made and the sweater was added to her bag of clothes to be carted back to the house.

As soon as Sarah made it home, she had the tags removed and the sweater prepped and ready for wearing. She knelt down to present the gift to Tucker.

Tucker eyed the garment curiously, his wet little nose sniffing as he pondered what this new thing could be. Then, suddenly, the thing was on him. He froze, unsure of what to do next, but then his pet human pulled his legs through and it seemed to settle onto his little body with ease. He took a few practice steps, trying to nibble at the thing's hood with his teeth.

"Look mom!" Sarah exclaimed. "He looks SO CUTE! I have to get the camera!"

Tucker turned in a couple of circles, but as he did so he found himself warming up. The warmer he got, the more accustomed to the sweater he seemed to become.

"Time to take it for a test drive," Sarah said, opening up the door and watching as Tucker high-tailed it outside.

Tucker's first order of business was to make sure that one and all knew of his brand spankin' new sweater.

Kelsi was the first to hear the news, unable to ignore Tucker as he excitedly showed off his new fashion statement.

Ever the good aunt, she feigned a smile and pretended to be more interested than she really was, hoping that in doing so Tucker would be satisfied and distract himself with something else.

From his perch on top of Sarah's car, Teddy offered his two cents, not waiting for anyone to ask his opinion.

Other than those few words of wisdom, Teddy had little to say.

Tucker, now satisfied that he'd made everyone aware of his incredible sweater, busied himself with his usual outside activities; chewing bones, running around, sniffing out big important things.

And all the while he couldn't help but notice just how warm he stayed. What an awesome sweater!

After running around outdoors for a good long while, Tucker finally wore himself out and decided it would be as good a time as any to take a break and head back in for a quick nap on the couch. Not because of the cold, oh no. Just because he had run off all of the energy he'd built up so far.

But this was only the beginning, the first of many trips out into the cool air armed with a very handy little grey sweater. Why with that one little added accessory, Tucker felt that surely he could conquer the world! Starting, of course, with his own backyard!

The Little Girl and the Plastic Card

The Little Girl and the Plastic Card

a short story about curbing your "wanter" and being responsible

inspired by true events.

Once upon a time there was a little girl. She was smart and she had a kind heart, but she suffered from a disorder. It seems that whenever she walked into a store, she was struck with the unbearable desire to purchase something. But the little girl almost always turned out empty pockets, unable to find the coveted green paper she knew the people behind the counter wanted before she could take her desired item home.

Then one day, while she was getting groceries with her mother, she learned of a better way to take home the things she wanted. It was small and plastic, and her mother called it a 'credit card'.

"Mommy, mommy!" the girl exclaimed. "I want one, too! Then I can get all of the things that I want, and all by myself!"

"No sweetheart," her mother said, gently patting her on the head. "You can't have one of these until you're a grown-up."

Disappointed, the child nodded her head. And after that, she dreamed of the day when she would be a grown-up. She would get a plastic card and never have to worry about not having money again.

When the little girl got older, she did indeed get herself a card. And although she had learned that having the card didn't take place of the money, the symptoms of her disorder were still present.

Only now when she walked into a store, turning out empty pockets didn't mean going home empty handed. All she had to do was swipe the plastic card and sign her name. Life was good.

But then one day, as she was minding her own business, her father poked his head in her bedroom. As he pushed the door open to talk to her, she saw that in his hands he held an envelope. She recognized her name on the front, and it bore the same logo as her credit card.

"What is this!?" her father asked, a confused expression on his face.

The girl batted her eyelashes and bit her lip. "It's my credit card bill, right Daddy?" she asked, doing her best to look innocent. Although she didn't know the amount she owed, she gathered by the look on his face that it wasn't too small.

"$600 dollars?" Now the frustration was more apparent. He held the envelope up, as if to show that he had proof of that terrible number.

The girl pursed her lips. Truly that was an amount higher than what she was expecting. And that was just for one card. Her mind raced as she tried to calculate how much could be on the others, for she had many plastic cards to appease her spending habits.

She quickly apologized for the amount, knowing that she meant every word when she told her father that she'd had no idea it would be that much.

With the help of her parents, she gradually paid back the money she owed, and for awhile everything was fine. The amounts billed to her monthly were manageable.

Then, slower than the first time, she accumulated a large sum again. On more than one of her beloved cards. She began to pay what she could, and for awhile did a decent job of controlling her spending disorder without the help of the plastic. But over time the temptation proved to be too strong.

That was when she knew. She had to make some hard decisions. She couldn't afford to keep spending the way she had been.

So she picked a card. The one with the highest interest rate. She took it out of her wallet. She sat it on the kitchen counter, then grabbed a pair of scissors.

After taking a moment to say goodbye, she forced herself to make the cut.

One little snip, and the card was gone. She prepared herself for sadness, but as she stared at the two halves she realized something. The sadness wasn't there. Instead, she felt a blooming sense of self, of responsibility, and of power. No more would she let the plastic control her. No, now she was free. The money still needed to be paid, but now she would not add more to it.

She felt confidant that she could do better in the future, learning from her financial mistakes instead of repeating them. As she scooped the remnants of her card into the trash can, she took a moment to enjoy the pride she felt. She held her head high as she left the kitchen, the smile on her face worth more than any silly plastic credit limit.

Fin.

The Little Girl and the Plastic Card by Sarah E. Thomas is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.