TUESDAY TALES: WORD PROMPT: RUNNING

 

Welcome! This week we have another episode of the Kicker's story. The word prompt is "running". Don't forget to visit all the blogs with wonderful stories. Find them HERE.  Thanks for visiting! 

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In a twin bed in a small bedroom in a tiny house on Stepping Stone Lane, Courtney Adams, a lazy blonde, yawned and stretched. Sharing her childhood room with her younger sister, Merrily, had been like a visit to “The Twilight Zone.” Used to a spacious, elegantly furnished Manhattan apartment on the tony Upper West Side, and a king-sized bed, she could hard breath in the cramped space. Why had her mother kept every single thing from her childhood and stuffed every shelf, every drawer full of old, dusty, worthless junk?  

 “Breakfast is ready,” a slim, short-haired brunette said as she leaned against the door frame.

“How the hell can you be so cheerful, Merrily? After a night in this excuse for a bed, I ache all over.”

“Yeah, I know. Mom needs to fix this place up.”

“Burn it down, more likely.” Courtney pushed to her feet.

“Come on, she’s doing okay keeping this place. Dad’s not paying her squat.”

“Yeah, well that’s not news, is it? Bastard. I send her money when I can.”

“Nice. Wish I could. I’m stuffed into a small place with roommates as it is.”

“Yeah, ice skating coaches don’t make a helluva lot, do they?”

“Not unless they’re coaching Olympic skaters. Private school charges a fortune and pays peanuts. But I may have a new job soon. A high profile one.” Merrily flashed a mischievous grin at her sister.

“Yeah? Tell me.”

“Eat first.”

Courtney grabbed a terrycloth robe hanging on the back of her door and covered her skimpy tank and tap pants before heading for the stairs. The smell of fresh coffee met her nose. She smiled. Some good things remained in this shabby old place.  A short woman carrying an extra fifteen pounds spoke up.

"It's about time, sleepyhead. French toast?" She raised kind eyes to her beautiful daughter.

"With cinnamon?"

"Of course. Come. Sit." Carol Adams placed a china plate on the table in front of an empty chair.

"Coffee?" Merrily poised a pot over an empty mug.

"Definitely. You guys wanna move to the City? I could use two in help."

Carol's lips compressed into a firm line. "Don't press your luck, Missy."

Courtney slung her arm around her mother's shoulders and gave a squeeze. "I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to be disrespectful."

"And me?" Merrily cocked an eyebrow.

"You, too Squirt. You guys are great. And no one cooks like you do, Mom." Hunger gnawed at Courtney's gut. Her mother placed three pieces of the toast on her daughter's plate. Merrily thrust her butt into her chair and the women chowed down. Courtney helped herself to a good portion of the real maple syrup, feeling a pang of guilt at  using so much of the costly confection. It ran over the toast, leaving it's sweet loveliness on every inch it touched. 

Tuesday Tales: Word Prompt "Rock"

 

Welcome! We have another snippet from the kicker's story this week. Find the other wonderful stories HERE. Please leave a comment! Thanks for stopping by. 

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Derek shot him a stern look. “You fucked up two extra points and a field goal. All in one game, that’s what!”

Color heated Tyler’s cheek. “Yeah. I know.”

“So what are you gonna do about it?”

“What can I do? I’ve been fired.”

“I’m not surprised. I’d have fired you, too.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” came a new male voice.

Ty turned to see Andrew Forge, the coach’s younger brother, and the principal of Pine Grove High School.

“Colby’s looking for you. And what the hell is the cat doing in the gym?” Andrew grabbed the cat from his brother. “Hello, Tyler.”

“Hello Mr. Forge.” Tension tightened Tyler’s stomach. Andrew Forge had kept eyes on Tyler all through school. One pinky toe stepped out of line, and Mr. Forge was down on Ty’s head like a ton of bricks. No illegal drinking, no long sessions parking on lonely roads after dark – Andrew Forge patrolled the small town, looking for wayward teens. He always seemed to be two steps ahead of Tyler.

“Well, Andrew, after all we did, the kid fucked up anyway.” Derek shook his head. “What are we going to do with him?”

Andrew shrugged. “Seems obvious to me, Derek.” He loped over to the supply closet and opened the door. One-by-one footballs flew across the room, bouncing all haywire and landing in different spots. “We practice.” Andrew carried the last ball with him as he crossed the floor.

“But there’s snow on the ground,” Tyler protested.

“So what? You can still kick. Get the balls. Come on, let’s go.”

The three men scooped up the five footballs, still hard as rocks though the season was long over, and slipped their way around the icy path to the football field. Derek and Colby lived three doors down from the school, so when he rounded the corner, he put the cat down. “Home, Mickey. Go home.” One touch of a paw on the cold, slushy ground was enough. She hopped over the snow and ice and raced to the warmth of home.

If he could have waved a magic wand and changed places with Mickey, he gladly would have. 

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "STICKY"

 Welcome! This week we have another episode of the book-looking-for-a-title -- Tyler Bentley's, the football kicker's story. Don't forget to visit all the wonderful Tuesday Tales authors HERE. Thanks for coming. 

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Although it was Christmas vacation, Ty figured the door to the high school gym wouldn’t be locked. Football coach, Derek Forge, was always there. Tyler tried the door and sure enough, it wasn’t locked. The smell of sneakers and sweat greeted his nose. He grinned. The place hadn’t changed in the years since he’d been there. And Coach Forge hadn’t either.

A red knit cap covered his bald head. In one hand he held a gooey cinnamon bun and in the other he bounced a basketball as he made his way across the court.

“What are you doin’ in here?” Coach yelled.

“Hey, Coach Forge, it’s me! Tyler Bentley.”

All burly six feet of Derek Forge stopped in his tracks. “You’re shittin’ me. Bentley? Is that you? Looks like you grew about six inches.” Coach dropped the ball, shoved the remains of the sweet confection in his mouth and closed the gap between them. He grabbed Tyler around the neck for a hug.

After a few seconds of cutting off Tyler’s breath, he let go. Coach never did know his own strength. Tyler coughed. “Geez, Coach. Kill me why dontcha?” He rubbed his neck.

“Always complainin’. Don’t be a wuss.”

“Nobody uses that anymore. Your age is showing.”

“You can call me Derek now. I mean, you’re not a kid anymore.”

Tyler stopped. Call Coach Forge, Derek? He couldn’t. He simply couldn’t. This man had been his inspiration since his dad died when he was twelve. Derek Forge stepped into Jeff Bentley’s shoes, taking Tyler under his wing.

Coach and his wife, Colby, the English teacher, didn’t have kids. Tyler had asked him about it once.

“What do I need kids at home for? I got all you right here. It would drive me nuts to have ‘em home, too. You’re all my kids and that’s plenty.”

Tyler had been grateful. He’d followed Derek Forge around like a puppy dog for the first year. Then the coach spotted Tyler’s talent and molded him into a star. Between his Uncle Charlie, Derek Forge and Forge’s brother, Andrew, school principal, Tyler couldn’t escape – he’d learned discipline, and how to work hard. He excelled at soccer and football. He played football in the fall and soccer in the spring. Agile and quick, Tyler loved soccer, but changed to football after a talk from the coach.

“Professional soccer is nice and all. And you’ve got the stuff to go pro, for sure. But football pays a whole lot better. Your Ma works hard pushin’ coffee and cleanin’ tables. Would be nice if you could help out. You won’t have much left over from professional soccer pay. Now football, on the other hand…”

As usual, Coach Forge had been right. Too slender to play, Ty had the perfect build to become a kicker. The strength in his legs from years of soccer helped him excel. Coach Forge set about training him. And with the help of Uncle Charlie, they turned Tyler into a star.

Colby Forge pushed Tyler to keep his grades up. He made the honor roll. With guidance and oversight from Andrew Forge, Ty got an academic scholarship to Kensington State University.  

Coach licked two fingers before a loud “meow” drew their attention. A cat scampered across the gym floor and twined herself around Derek’s legs.

“You still have Sasha?”

“No, no. She passed a few years ago. This is Mickey, her daughter.” Coach leaned down and offered his sticky fingers to the animal. She licked them clean. He picked her up and tucked her under his arm. “What are you doing outside? It’s too cold for cats.” He stroked her fur as he made his way to the door. 

Coach faced Ty. “So what the hell happened?” 

“What do you mean?” Tyler feigned innocence.

That's it for this week. Thanks for stopping by. Comments are always welcome!!

Tuesday Tales - Hard

 

Welcome! This week's word prompt is "hard." We have another episode of my new story, that remains without a title! Don't forget to visit all the wonderful stories. Find them HERE. Thanks for stopping by.

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“Tyler, breakfast!” His mother called. He shoved the pillow over his head. “Waffles!”

The scent of his mother’s famous waffles slipped under his door and seduced his nose. He poked his head out, like a turtle, and threw back the covers. Yanking a robe from the hook on the back of his door, he pulled it on and flew down the stairs and into the kitchen.

His eyes went right to the waffle iron, where a small wisp of steam rose. He licked his lips and plopped down in his usual chair. Uncle Charlie with his bushy white brows and thinning hair chewed as his fork stood poised to drop another delectable piece of sour cream waffle into his mouth. With his free hand, he pushed the bottle of real maple syrup toward his nephew.

Since when could his mother afford real maple syrup? Guilt landed in the pit of his stomach. Now Tyler was unemployed, he wouldn’t be sending home a couple hundred bucks every month as usual. It would be damn hard to break the news to his mother.   

“One or two?” his mother asked, breaking into his thoughts.

“Two. Definitely two,” he said

“I hear Merrily Adams is back for the holiday,” Marge said.

“Yeah?” He bit back “who cares” stuck on his tongue, waiting to come out.

“I think it’s nice she comes back to have Christmas with her family.”

“Where else is she gonna go, Ma, the Riviera? Everyone goes home for Christmas.”

His mother made a noise and shrugged.

“What your mother means is maybe you should call her.”

“I know what she means. I chose to ignore it.”

“Could it hurt? I mean you and she were sure close enough in high school.”

“That’s light years ago, Ma.”

“She’s still smart and pretty.”

“And successful enough to buy and sell me a hundred times over,” came flying out of his mouth.  

“She isn’t married,” Charlie said.

“Yeah. She could do a lot worse than you, ya know.”

“Gee thanks, Ma. With a ringing endorsement like that I’m surprised she’s not over here and down on one knee.”