This was a tough month for the writing exercise competition because all the entries were great. (The prompt was to write a story starting with the words: “Why are you wearing that?) First prize went to Shelli Bond Pabis for her touching story, “The Tie.” The runner up prize went to A.E. Skalitza for her twist of a story, “Fitting Closure.” I hope you enjoy reading them, and I hope you’ll be inspired to take part in the contest as well.

For the July/August contest, the exercise will be to write a story using words of only one syllable. Remember that the winner will receive a free autographed copy of The Fiction Class and everyone else will get bookmarks and my undying gratitude for taking part. You can send in your submission in an email to me at susan@susanjbreen.com.

All best, and enjoy reading these stories:

FIRST PLACE:

The Tie
By Shelli Bond Pabis
www.mamaofletters.com

"Why are you wearing that?"

The wife's flip flops plopped on the hardwood floor as she walked into the bedroom with a toddler resting on her hip. Her husband was standing in front of the mirror, tying a brown and black tie around his neck. He didn’t respond.

"We bought you this one." With one hand, the wife picked up a new tie from the bed. It had a silver and black checkered pattern on it. She tried to take off the paper that was taped around it, but the child kept reaching for it.

"Don't." Her husband caught the new tie in the air as his wife swung it out of her child's reach. The toddler whined. "We can take it back," her husband said.

"Why?"

"It's too expensive."

"No, it's not. Wear it."

Her husband sighed and looked in the mirror. "This one is fine."

"It looks really outdated," she said.

The husband yanked the tie off his neck. He grabbed the new one and ripped off the paper. The wife set the wiggling child down and gave him the tissue paper that had floated to the floor. The little boy giggled as he tore the paper apart.
When the tie was neatly placed around the husband's neck, he sat down on a chair and put on some new black shoes.
"You look really good," the wife said.

"Thanks." The husband didn't look up at her.

The little boy wobbled out the bedroom door, throwing bits of paper on the floor as he went. The wife followed him, ignoring the paper. When they walked into the kitchen, she reached into the refrigerator, grabbed a cup of milk and handed it to the child. He sat on the floor, drinking his milk with his right hand and holding a small scrap of paper with his left.

Sunday's newspaper was spilled out onto the floor under the kitchen table, and on top of the table were all the advertisements and leaflets. Several coupons she had clipped were laid in a stack on the table, next to a pair of scissors. The wife grabbed a few scraps of the paper, pieces she had cut the coupons out of and threw them into the trash.

Her husband walked into the kitchen with is suitcase.

"Wish me luck," he said.

"Good luck," she said. They stared at each other for a long moment.

The child giggled at their feet.

"Mama. Dada," the child said.

"Goodbye, little man!" The husband leaned down and kissed the boy on the head. Then he kissed his wife on the cheek and walked out the door. After he left, the little boy waved at the door.

The wife scooped the child up into her arms and put the milk back into the refrigerator. She was grateful for two things that day. She was grateful her baby boy was in an agreeable mood, and she was grateful itwas a sunny, temperate day.

"Wanna go outside?" she asked.

"Yaaaa!" The boy pointed to the door.

Outside, the boy puttered in the yard. Today his mother didn't scold him when he began pulling petals off the flowers or throwing dirt on top of his head. The wife sat on the bottom step of their porch and watched her boy. Beside her laid a book, but she never opened it.

Large carpenter bees swung around them in the air. The boy used to be afraid of them, but now he noticed them with mild interest. A lawnmower hummed in the distance, and a loud truck passed by on the highway.

After a while, her son came up to her and reached for her hand. When he touched her, she smelled honeysuckle.
She let the boy lead her around the yard. They picked up rocks and pinecones. They found a small cluster of acorns, and this kept the boy occupied for a good fifteen minutes. The wife wondered what time it was. She let her son guide her down the sidewalk. He picked up pine needles from their neighbor's mulch around the mailbox. After puttering around for what felt like an hour, the wife began looking down the road in the direction her husband would return, though she hoped he wouldn’t be home too soon.

When he finally came home, she was sitting at the kitchen table, clipping more coupons. The boy was pushing small matchbox cars across the floor. The aroma of curry wafted from the stove. When she heard the car pull into the garage, her stomach gurgled in hunger and anxiety. She swallowed and rubbed her forehead, waiting to hear the key enter the lock. She looked up at him when he entered the kitchen door, but he didn’t look at her because the little boy ran up to him. Her husband set his briefcase down on the floor and picked up the boy. He looked tired, but nothing else on his face said anything to her. The knot on the black and silver tie had been loosened. She looked down at the scissors in her hand. Then she looked up again.

Her husband was smiling.

"Fitting Closure”
By A.E. Skalitza

"Why are you wearing that?" the voice near me asked.

"Because I had to grab something fast," came the answer. It sounded like a young woman, probably my cousin, Caryn. Hard to tell.

"Well, low-cut, bright green, and tight-fitting doesn't look right." I figured it out. The first voice was Aunt Jen, always knocking someone down. I was surprised she didn't say something about me earlier. Surprised she didn't say, "What a dowdy dress!" or "Who picked that out?"

I heard my aunt sniffle. That distinctive sniff. "Well, you should have asked me for my opinion, Caryn. I know about these things. Been to enough these last few years."

Another voice. Gruff. "Jen, shh! Now's not the time to berate our daughter. She looks fine. Now, shh!"

All was suddenly quiet except for some robins singing and the sound of a plane.

"Dearly beloved," another voice, a man, intoned nearby. I didn't listen to the rest. All I heard after that was my name. Some crying, then I felt a thud.

This was it. Now Aunt Jen could bother everyone else about their clothes, but I'd never have to hear her again. Now I could rest in peace.