Story 217: "Hollow Day" by Kel
I've been wanting to rec this fic for years; however, I must warn you: this is not the usual, cheery, feel-good holiday story, nor is it the sort of story we've come to expect from Kel. There are not many fic writers who can create believable, compelling original characters the way Kel can. Her narrator, now an adult with children of her own, recalls a traumatic day she spent at the Mulders, specifically the Thanksgiving immediately following Samantha's abduction.
Most of the gentry on the Vineyard were summer people, but there was one rich family that lived there year-round. The Mulders. They weren't exactly Kennedys or anything, but you could tell they were loaded. I'm sure they were the only people on Martha's Vineyard with a summer house someplace else. Mrs. Mulder was always redecorating. My dad was a house painter, which meant he was always over there painting.
I didn't mind that my dad painted the house, or even that he fixed the drips and put up the storm windows. But I burned with resentment because every year my mom would spend Thanksgiving over at the Mulders', cleaning and serving and doing all kinds of things that she should have been doing for us, and that the Mulders should have been doing for themselves.
My freshman year at UMass, when my mom picked me up at the ferry the day before Thanksgiving, that was the first thing I said to her.
"I *hope* you're not planning to spend my visit working for the Mulders."
"Oh, my God, Linda, you haven't heard!" my mother said. "Something terrible happened last night. Samantha was kidnapped."
The link is to Fugues Fiction Archive but this can also be read at Gossamer.
Read "Hollow Day"
Don't forget to send feedback to the author, I know she'd appreciate it. The nomination post is always open for your suggestions. I'm especially interested in holiday stories right now.
Happy Thanksgiving Day to those who'll be celebrating next week.
Most of the gentry on the Vineyard were summer people, but there was one rich family that lived there year-round. The Mulders. They weren't exactly Kennedys or anything, but you could tell they were loaded. I'm sure they were the only people on Martha's Vineyard with a summer house someplace else. Mrs. Mulder was always redecorating. My dad was a house painter, which meant he was always over there painting.
I didn't mind that my dad painted the house, or even that he fixed the drips and put up the storm windows. But I burned with resentment because every year my mom would spend Thanksgiving over at the Mulders', cleaning and serving and doing all kinds of things that she should have been doing for us, and that the Mulders should have been doing for themselves.
My freshman year at UMass, when my mom picked me up at the ferry the day before Thanksgiving, that was the first thing I said to her.
"I *hope* you're not planning to spend my visit working for the Mulders."
"Oh, my God, Linda, you haven't heard!" my mother said. "Something terrible happened last night. Samantha was kidnapped."
The link is to Fugues Fiction Archive but this can also be read at Gossamer.
Read "Hollow Day"
Don't forget to send feedback to the author, I know she'd appreciate it. The nomination post is always open for your suggestions. I'm especially interested in holiday stories right now.
Happy Thanksgiving Day to those who'll be celebrating next week.