Musemuggers
Title: The Giant of Kent County
Author: keppiehed
Word Count: 830
Prompt: Open a book to any page; choose a word, and write it down. Repeat this nine times. Write a story or a poem with all the words collected.
A/N: Written for musemuggers. Challenge # 514, Option #4. The words are from an anthology entitled "Machine of Death".
-dreams
-restrained
-paint-soaked
-almond
-greeted
-unscrewed
-six
-Sarge
-needle
The Giant of Kent County died today. I knew about it before I turned on the TV because I’d had the dreams last night about falling and those always meant death. But Ray didn’t believe in any of that, so I kept my mouth shut and pretended to be surprised just like he was.
“Hard to believe,” I said, once the reporter had moved onto the next story, a teaser about the senator cheating on his wife. “I didn’t think he’d go like that.”
“Bah,” Ray said around a mouthful of cereal. He unscrewed the cap on the milk and sloshed more into his bowl. A drop spilled next to his sleeve, but Ray just let it sit there and leach into the wood of Mama’s antique table. “He had it coming.”
I nodded even though I didn’t agree. I reached for the box of cereal but there were only a few stale flakes rattling around the bottom. I made some toast instead. “Remember back in high school when we all went down to the pier? We had some good times.”
“Why you still talking about it?” Ray asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m not. I was just wondering about the funeral, that’s all. Do you think we should go?”
Ray snorted. “Naw. Why would we?”
“I don’t know,” I said again. I remembered the dream and how I’d imagined the shape of his face as he fell through the air in slow motion. His eyes had been closed, but he’d been smiling. I wanted to see if he was really as free as he seemed, but he’d turned his head at the last moment. I’d woken up before I could see the peace in his gaze, and now I’d always wonder if he found any in those last seconds or if it was all just regret. “I just thought we should. Since we knew him and all.”
Ray didn’t answer. He pushed his cereal away and leaned back in his chair until he was balanced on two legs.
“Just a thought,” I said. “They probably won’t have an open casket, anyway. All the bullets and stuff. He’s probably a mess.” Sarge nudged my hand and I reached down to scratch under his chin. “Good boy.”
“Jesus, you’re obsessed. What were you, married to the guy?” Ray asked. “Hey, bring me a beer, would you?”
“I thought we had a job today,” I said.
Ray let his chair fall to the floor with a thud. “Yeah, so? Get off my back. Let me have a drink and then we’ll get going.”
“Sure.” I opened the fridge and saw the two six packs waiting, but I only grabbed one bottle. Maybe it wouldn’t be that kind of day. Maybe he’d restrain himself and we’d be fine. An hour or even two wasn’t too late to make it. We’d been promising to paint Mrs. Davis’ kitchen for a week now. This was our last chance, but it could still work out. I set the bottle in front of him. The condensation left one more dark ring on the maple surface that Mama used to wipe down with such care.
“Get yourself one,” Ray said. He twisted off the cap and raised the bottle to his lips.
I nodded and turned to help myself to a beer, but as my hand closed around the cold glass I saw a vision of Dale’s face mingle with the draught of recirculated air. I’d known him by his real name, not the one the newspapers had made up for him. From the details on the news, I knew Dale hadn’t gone easy, but I just kept seeing him like I remembered him from when we were kids, before the bad times. I wondered if it was always meant to work out this way or if there had been a chance, no matter how slim, that it could have gone a different way.
“Hey, you got another beer there?” Ray asked.
I rested my head against the opaque glass of the refrigerator shelf for a beat before I answered. “You can have mine. I just remembered I have somewhere to be.”
I gathered all the paint-soaked supplies for the job and loaded Sarge in the truck; he liked to ride along, but Ray never wanted to bring him to work. Mrs. Davis was going to get her almond-colored kitchen today, even if I had to do it alone for the first time. I watched the house, Mama’s house, grow smaller in the rearview but Ray never emerged, not even when I rounded the last bend up on Fullerton Hill and all I could see were shadows where I knew he’d be standing if he’d bother to get up out of his chair. I pressed on the accelerator and watched the needle climb higher and higher as I made my way down the country roads of Kent County and greeted the day before me with newfound purpose.
Author: keppiehed
Word Count: 830
Prompt: Open a book to any page; choose a word, and write it down. Repeat this nine times. Write a story or a poem with all the words collected.
A/N: Written for musemuggers. Challenge # 514, Option #4. The words are from an anthology entitled "Machine of Death".
-dreams
-restrained
-paint-soaked
-almond
-greeted
-unscrewed
-six
-Sarge
-needle
The Giant of Kent County died today. I knew about it before I turned on the TV because I’d had the dreams last night about falling and those always meant death. But Ray didn’t believe in any of that, so I kept my mouth shut and pretended to be surprised just like he was.
“Hard to believe,” I said, once the reporter had moved onto the next story, a teaser about the senator cheating on his wife. “I didn’t think he’d go like that.”
“Bah,” Ray said around a mouthful of cereal. He unscrewed the cap on the milk and sloshed more into his bowl. A drop spilled next to his sleeve, but Ray just let it sit there and leach into the wood of Mama’s antique table. “He had it coming.”
I nodded even though I didn’t agree. I reached for the box of cereal but there were only a few stale flakes rattling around the bottom. I made some toast instead. “Remember back in high school when we all went down to the pier? We had some good times.”
“Why you still talking about it?” Ray asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m not. I was just wondering about the funeral, that’s all. Do you think we should go?”
Ray snorted. “Naw. Why would we?”
“I don’t know,” I said again. I remembered the dream and how I’d imagined the shape of his face as he fell through the air in slow motion. His eyes had been closed, but he’d been smiling. I wanted to see if he was really as free as he seemed, but he’d turned his head at the last moment. I’d woken up before I could see the peace in his gaze, and now I’d always wonder if he found any in those last seconds or if it was all just regret. “I just thought we should. Since we knew him and all.”
Ray didn’t answer. He pushed his cereal away and leaned back in his chair until he was balanced on two legs.
“Just a thought,” I said. “They probably won’t have an open casket, anyway. All the bullets and stuff. He’s probably a mess.” Sarge nudged my hand and I reached down to scratch under his chin. “Good boy.”
“Jesus, you’re obsessed. What were you, married to the guy?” Ray asked. “Hey, bring me a beer, would you?”
“I thought we had a job today,” I said.
Ray let his chair fall to the floor with a thud. “Yeah, so? Get off my back. Let me have a drink and then we’ll get going.”
“Sure.” I opened the fridge and saw the two six packs waiting, but I only grabbed one bottle. Maybe it wouldn’t be that kind of day. Maybe he’d restrain himself and we’d be fine. An hour or even two wasn’t too late to make it. We’d been promising to paint Mrs. Davis’ kitchen for a week now. This was our last chance, but it could still work out. I set the bottle in front of him. The condensation left one more dark ring on the maple surface that Mama used to wipe down with such care.
“Get yourself one,” Ray said. He twisted off the cap and raised the bottle to his lips.
I nodded and turned to help myself to a beer, but as my hand closed around the cold glass I saw a vision of Dale’s face mingle with the draught of recirculated air. I’d known him by his real name, not the one the newspapers had made up for him. From the details on the news, I knew Dale hadn’t gone easy, but I just kept seeing him like I remembered him from when we were kids, before the bad times. I wondered if it was always meant to work out this way or if there had been a chance, no matter how slim, that it could have gone a different way.
“Hey, you got another beer there?” Ray asked.
I rested my head against the opaque glass of the refrigerator shelf for a beat before I answered. “You can have mine. I just remembered I have somewhere to be.”
I gathered all the paint-soaked supplies for the job and loaded Sarge in the truck; he liked to ride along, but Ray never wanted to bring him to work. Mrs. Davis was going to get her almond-colored kitchen today, even if I had to do it alone for the first time. I watched the house, Mama’s house, grow smaller in the rearview but Ray never emerged, not even when I rounded the last bend up on Fullerton Hill and all I could see were shadows where I knew he’d be standing if he’d bother to get up out of his chair. I pressed on the accelerator and watched the needle climb higher and higher as I made my way down the country roads of Kent County and greeted the day before me with newfound purpose.