Contest Winner: October

Pamela Hill sent in the winning entry for the month of October and won Ralph Fletcher's book, What a Writer Needs.  Congratulations to Pamela and her story which many single parents will relate to. If you don't smile at the end, I'd like to know.

Mahala

Single Mom

By Pamela Hill

Another Halloween conquered. Ghostly Jared and Stevie were sitting at the dinner table, drinking red punch and eating fish sticks while their mother, Sandy, studied for a physics exam. Birds in the cage across the room were squawking. Sandy looked up from her book and watched the birds, forgetting about three-dimensional particle dynamics. The mother parakeet seemed agitated as her chicks fluttered around her in the cage.

Jared and Stevie squealed and giggled. Red punch spewed from Jared’s mouth into his salad and macaroni and cheese.

“Bedtime.” Sandy jumped out of her chair. She gave the boys a bath then read Good Night Moon.

“Bathroom,” Jared said.

Sandy sighed, smoothed his sheets and fluffed his pillow while she waited for him. She thought about the physics exam she wasn’t prepared for and yawned. She had to study or she’d never pass that test. She’d have her degree soon.

Jared ran back into the bedroom and jumped on the bed. “I’m thirsty.”

Sandy heard sirens outside and shuddered. "Ask not for whom the bell tolls."

“Mommy, I’m thirsty.”

“I’m going,” she said.

Jared jumped off the bed and followed her to the kitchen. The birds were still squawking. She gave Jared a glass of water and rushed him back to bed.

Stevie started crying and threw up on his blankets. “My stomach hurts.”

Sandy cried too and cleaned up the mess. Stevie felt warm, so Sandy found the thermometer in the medicine cabinet and took his temperature. He had a slight fever. She tucked him under the cover and held a cool cloth on his forehead until he fell asleep.

She then cleaned the grubby kitchen, made a cup of instant coffee and picked up her physics book. The birds were squawking again. Sandy took the mother bird out of the cage. “You need a break.”

She picked up her physics book and reread the same paragraph. The birds were still squawking, and Sandy looked at the mother bird perched on the curtain and wondered.

She opened the front door, and the mother bird flew away.

MAC August Winner

I apologize for the delay in getting the August winner posted. September has been an overwhelming month on many fronts. The August winner is Pamela Hill from Leesburg, Florida with her short story Translucent Wings.  Pamela has short stories, pulp fiction and poems published by Six Minute Magazine, Literary Juice, Ping Pong, An Art & Literary Journal of the Henry Miller Memorial Library, and Naturewriting, respectively.  Nailpolish Stories, A Tiny & Colorful Literary Journal, recently accepted her short, short story for publication in October.  She is currently working on a novella. Congratulations to Pamela, and we welcome her to Lyrical Pens. She has left us with an O. Henry ending if there ever was one. Enjoy.  Mahala

Translucent Wings

By

Pamela Hill

Gusts of wind flipped my umbrella inside out and pushed me toward the tower where my office was on the 18th floor. My secretary brought me a towel. “Grendel wants to see you.”

I wiped the rain from my things. “Let me dry off.”

She bit her lip, so I knew Grendel was yelling again. I tossed my keys on my desk and ran to the elevator, which carried me down to the first floor. Mr. Grendel sat behind his desk. “Our client’s name is misspelled on every document, Catherine. Incompetence is unacceptable.” When I turned to leave, he said, “another oversight like this …termination is imminent.”

Back in my office, my colleague, Daphne, sauntered in. “What happened downstairs?”

“Not much” I said and halfway smiled. Daphne’s demeanor betrayed a subterfuge of joy before she left.

My secretary rushed in. “Daphne did it. She accessed the documents through the network and made changes before I mailed them to the client.“ She bit her lip again. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

“How did you find out?”

“Her secretary saw her do it.”

While I raged, a little green Lacewing alit upon the wall. If a Lacewing is attacked, it emits a foul odor and loses the beauty of translucent wings. “Control yourself,” Lacewing implied. “If you do, Daphne will fry.”

She did.