TUESDAY TALES - PICTURE PROMPT - MIDNIGHT IN CENTRAL PARK

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Welcome! This week we have a picture prompt and we can only post 300 words. My urban fantasy, MIDNIGHT IN CENTRAL PARK, a YA story continues. Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales.  Thank you for stopping by.

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I tucked the package from Mrs. Hernandez into my backpack and headed for the park.

“Meet you at Balto,” Taylor said.

I nodded. Balto is the statue of a dog who trekked like 600 miles through a blizzard to get some medicine to kids in Alaska one helluva long time ago. He’s my hero.

The statue stood on some rocks near the underpass to the zoo. Taylor, Abby and I hung out there sometimes. I’d always wanted a dog, but dad refused and after he left, we barely had enough food for mom and me. He’s made of metal, not warm and fuzzy, but it’s better than nothing.

Today was a perfect day. Not too hot or cold. It was June. The best month in the park. I was weird, maybe, but I felt safe there. Especially at night. There are lots of places to hide, I never got mugged. It’s safer than that rat-trap I’d called home.

Mom’s had mean friends. They’d hang out, drink, do drugs. I left whenever they showed up. When I got back, usually Mom wasn’t there and I’d have to clean up their mess. She never told me where she went, and I never asked.

If my teachers knew, they’d think I do drugs, too. Drugs mess up my mother, why would I do it, too? I hate her high. She’d get sentimental, weepy, and disgusting. She’d apologize and stuff. I’d go spend the night in the park.

It was a long walk, but when it was nice out, I didn’t mind. There were lots of places to sleep that the cops didn’t check. Hell, they mostly stuck to the paths, looking for muggers. Sleeping by a flower bed was nice. It smelled so damn good. A lot better than home.

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TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "TAX" - Discover a NEW story--- Urban Fantasy/YA

MIDNIGHT IN CENTRAL PARK

Welcome! This week we start a brand new story -- an urban fantasy/ya story --Midnight in Central Park. Yep, stretching my wings, soaring someplace I've never been before. And it's in first person, too. I hope you enjoy it. Feedback and comments are most welcome. 

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   Oh, God. That fucking alarm. I cracked open an eye to stare at the asshole clock which had the smiling face of Cookie Monster. It said, “I want cookie.” Ugh. It was already six. I pushed up out of bed. I needed to get to school at seven for the free breakfast. It’s a long time 'til lunch.

   Mom was passed out on the couch, so I got dibs on the bathroom. Staring into the mirror, I examined my face for the millionth time. A few hairs here and there. But nope. No razor needed –yet. I was thirteen, but dad started shaving at twelve, or so he said. Probably just another one of his lies.

   Jamie was a stupid name for a boy. Mom named me after my father, whose name is James. He took off when I was seven. So who wanted to be named after him anyway? I needed a new name. I put it on a mental list of things that need changing, along with the rest of my life.

   I headed out the door by six thirty, running for the subway. I lived in the projects in an apartment Mom and I shared with mice and roaches. I couldn't wait to get out of there for the day, even if it was for school. I had to run to make my train, but I got there with two seconds to spare. Someday I’ll hop a taxi and give the driver a twenty-dollar tip. Yeah, when pigs fly.

   In the food line, Mrs. Hernandez gave me a warm smile. “Jamie, we have extra food today. Come by after school,” she whispered. She isn’t supposed to slip me food, but she did. No questions asked. It’s good to have friends. She gave me a double portion of hot cereal. Not my favorite, but you eat what's there.

   “Hey,” said Taylor as he swung into the seat next to me. Abby joined us. They were my best friends. The bell rang and a grueling day began. Listening to stupid people who couldn’t get a decent job drone on about something I don’t give a shit about made me restless.

   All I wanted was to get out and get to Central Park. That’s my real home.

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TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "ALONE" - MAGGIE'S STORY CONTINUES.

Welcome! This week's prompt is "alone." We have more of Maggie's tale. Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales. Thanks for coming by.

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Maggie’s alarm sounded promptly at six. She pulled down the covers and swung her legs over the side. Little Penn would be up and howling already. She smiled as she pictured him standing in his crib crying for attention, and bursting into a giant grin when she entered his room. Maggie washed up in her private bathroom and slipped on a housedress.

She padded down the hall in her slippers, careful not to wake the Missus and her husband. The faint cry of Penn’s healthy lungs met her ears. She sighed. Her busy-beyond-belief day had begun. She’d be on the go all day long, taking care of Penn, cleaning house, and keeping her room spotless.

She opened the door and laughed as Penn, standing up, danced, his little legs pumping, his mouth open, drool leaking down to his pajamas.

“Good morning, my little man.” Maggie approached the crib.

Penn raised his arms to her. She picked him up. He squealed in delight as she buried her face in his tummy.

“Come, my boy. Let’s get you ready for breakfast.”

She changed him and dressed him in one of the adorable outfits his mother stockpiled, spilling out of drawers and shelves.

“Blue, today, mi lad,” she said, fastening the snaps. She combed his hair, kissed his cheek and supported him on her hip as she carried him to the kitchen. She hummed a little ditty her gran had sung to her when she was a child. Penn gurgled, and stuck his fingers in his mouth.

She set him in his top-of-the-line high chair, then set about gathering his breakfast.

“Hmm, oat cereal today. How about apricots? You had peaches yesterday,” she said.

Penn clapped his hands and followed her with his eyes. It had only been two weeks, but Maggie had settled comfortably in a routine with the child and the household. Smiling as she mixed cereal, she filled the coffeemaker, then sat opposite the lad. As she scooped up cereal with a bit of pureed fruit, the coffeemaker spewed the delicious aroma of perking brew into the air.

“Morning,” came from a deep, masculine voice.

“Morning. Coffee’s ready.”

“Very good,” said John.

Dressed and combed with every hair in place, the handsome man poured two cups and fixed Maggie’s with too much sugar and cream.

“Still don’t see what the Yanks see in this. Give me a good cuppa any day,” she muttered as he sat the beverage in front of her. Penn reached for her cup, but she dodged his tiny fingers.

Maggie worked hard keeping the house shining. But she smiled to herself. At least she had a place, good work to do, decent pay, and, thank God, she wasn’t alone.   

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Tueday Tales - Word Prompt - "Road" - More of Maggie's Story

Welcome! This week our word prompt is "road." We have more of "Maggie's Story" this week. This time, from John's point-of-view. Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales and the excellent stories there. Thanks for stopping by. 

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“I don’t dislike you, Miss Chadwick,” John said, swallowing.

“You mean you treat your friends like this? Maybe I’m best off not being one of them,” Maggie said, making her way to the bed, and opening her suitcase.

“Pardon me, Miss. I have things to do before dinner. If you’re hungry, cook will make you a snack,” he said, stopping in the doorway.

“Cook? We have a cook?” she asked.

“Of course. Mr. Roberts is a very well to do man.”

“I thought the Missus wanted me to cook. That’s a relief.”

“If cook leaves, it might become your job.”

“Oh. Fine. Please excuse me. I need to unpack,” she said, her hand on the doorknob.

John straightened his shoulders and headed for the kitchen.

“Hmpf. She threw me out! The nerve,” he muttered. He raised his chin. Dislike her? Not exactly. His reaction to her was strong, indeed, but of another sort. Her beauty took him off guard. But he’d been taken for a ride by a pretty face and figure before. No way was he going down that road again.

Still, she had a nice way about her, warm, friendly, with a contagious laugh. He sighed. His job just got harder. Running the Roberts’ home was a fulltime job, without the challenge of keeping his heart safe, and his private parts private. He’d already had his heart and Mrs. Roberts’ ruby ring stolen by the treacherous maid before Maggie.

“Never again,” he said. No way would John Whitfield be taken by a flirtatious look and a pretty face again. This job was strictly business.

But bumping into Maggie in a nightgown and robe at midnight in the kitchen might test his will. John cleared his throat and grabbed a small jar of silver polish. He sat at the dining table, making the silver shine. Cook poked her head in.

“She’s a looker, that new one, isn’t she?”  

“Bite your tongue, Maisie.”  

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TUESDAY TALES - PICTURE PROMPT - MORE OF MAGGIE'S STORY!

Welcome! This week is picture prompt week. We continue with "Maggie's Story" this week. Thank you for coming. Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales. 

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“John will give you a tour and show you to your room. Penn and I have a baby shower to go to and Mr. Roberts has a business meeting. I’m so sorry we’re running out on you.”

“I’ll be fine, Missus. Don’t worry.”

“Get settled in. When I get back, we’ll work out a schedule. If you’re hungry, help yourself to anything in the fridge,” Anne Roberts said. Mr. Roberts held the door open and she wheeled the baby into the hall.

“Come along,” John said, his voice icy. He picked up her suitcase and led her to the back of the apartment, then opened the door to a small, sunny room. “This is your room. You’re expected to keep it clean and tidy. The housekeeper will not do it for you.”

Maggie’s mouth hung open. The charming, soft white room had a bed, small dresser, a wing chair and tiny wood side table. Lovely decorative items perched on the dresser. Maggie wandered over to touch the dried flowers.  

“This is all for me? I don’t have to share?”

“Of course.”

“Oh my. Thanks be to God.”

“Did you hear me about cleaning it?”

“Oh, I did. Indeed. It will be a pleasure to keep such a beautiful place spic and span.”

John put the suitcase on the bed. “Dinner is at six, sharp. We dine in the kitchen.” He turned to leave. Maggie touched his arm.

“A question?” she asked. 

“Yes?” he replied, frowning.

She faced him. “Why did you give me that money?”

“You looked pathetic.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip.

“Is that all?” A tall man, John towered over her. Maggie fidgeted.

“Out with it! I have other things to do today than have a chat with you.”

“Have I done something to make you dislike me?”

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TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT IS "STEADY" Another episode of "Maggie's Story".

Howdy do! Welcome. This week our word prompt is "steady." More from Maggie's Story. Don't forget to scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales. Thanks for stopping by.

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Maggie threw her meager belongings in the cardboard suitcase she’d brought from home. After stopping to say farewell to her roommates and cousin, she hurried out the door. Worry furrowed her brow. A chauffeur to pick me up. What if they don’t like me? Where will I go if they turn me out? Mum would say, make sure you do a good job. I will, Mum, I will.

  Ten minutes early, Maggie waited in front of the decrepit tenement she’d called home. A shiny, black limousine stopped, and a tall handsome man in a uniform got out, opened the back door and gave a slight bow.

“Miss Chadwick?” He cocked an eyebrow, his gray eyes hard and inquisitive.

She nodded and looked up. “You!” Shock zinged through her. He was the man who had given her the money when she was flat broke. He took her suitcase and placed it in the trunk. She settled into the backseat. The ride was as smooth as a magic carpet.

“I’m Maggie.”

“John,” he said in a perfect English accent.

Staring at the back of his head, she noticed that his light brown hair, worn not too short or too long was expertly trimmed.

“Nice to meet you,” she said.

“Don’t be thinking you’re going to take the Roberts’ for a ride, young woman. They are the most decent sort. I’ve got my eye on you. I’ll be watching. I’d better not find any of the silver or jewelry missing or you’ll answer to me. I nailed the last nanny. She's doing five years for theft.” His sharp tone frightened her. 

She guessed him to be around thirty-five, yet he spoke as if he were older and a member of the family. She laced her fingers and looked out the window. The traffic was heavy, but John seemed to glide through it nice and steady.

Glancing around the backseat at all the unoccupied space, she mumbled, “Size of my bedroom.”  

“What?” John flashed a look in the rearview mirror.

“Nothing. Never been in a limo before.”

“Country girl? How long have you been in the city?” He returned his gaze to the street.

“Long enough.” She pursed her lips into a thin line. I’m not some fool you can seduce and abandon.

Five minutes later, they pulled up in front of an imposing building on pristine Park Avenue. He parked and opened the door for her, all cold efficieny. Then he retrieved her valise and handed it to the doorman. While he tipped his hat to her, his eyes were unfriendly, his handsome face a mask. 

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TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "BOAT" - MAGGIE'S STORY CONTINUES

Welcome! This week we're writing to the word prompt "boat." We have another episode of Maggie's Story. Don't forget to scroll down and return to the wonderful stories on Tuesday Tales. Thanks for stopping by.

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With a heavy heart, Maggie dragged herself into work. It was her last day with Anne and baby Penn. She sighed. As she pushed her cart, weighed down with a boatload of clean towels, down the hall, tears threatened. The Roberts’ door was open. The squeaky cart wheels announced Maggie’s arrival. Anne popped her head out.

“Oh, good! You’re here,” she said, pulling the young woman into the room.

Penn shrieked with joy. The sound of his laughter chased sadness from her heart. 

“We have a surprise for you,” Anne said.

“You do?” Maggie’s eyebrows rose.

Mr. Roberts joined them. He slipped his arm around his wife’s waist.

Maggie’s gaze bounced from one to the other. “What’s up?”

“We have an offer for you,” the husband said.

“Oh?”

“He’s taking too long. Tell her, tell her!” She bounced on tiptoes.

“Why don’t you?” He gazed at his wife with a loving twinkle in his eye.

“Maggie, we want you to come work for us.”

“You’re not in love with this job, are you?”

 “I hate it with a passion. Mrs. Roberts and little Penn are the highlight of my day.”

“Come with us, Maggie. We have a huge apartment. You’d have your own room.”

“And bath. And I’ll double whatever you’re making here.”

Maggie mouth fell open.  “Are you serious?”

“Damn serious,” he said.

“Penn adores you and so do I,” Anne said.

“We have a penthouse on Park Avenue. I own the building. You'll be comfortable.”

“Are you kidding?”

“My wife says you’re the best. How soon can you pack?”

“I can be ready to leave in an hour.”

“Done.” Mr. Roberts shook her hand. Anne hugged her and little Penn clapped his hands.

“Darling, would you send John to pick her up?”

“Of course. Give Anne your address. He’ll be there at six?”

“Thank you so much. I don’t know what to say.”

“Just be ready.” After another look at his watch, he left the room.

Maggie ran from the subway, anxious to be ready on time. She ran into Burt.

“Hey, hey. Where you headed in such a fury?”

“I’ve got me a new job.”

He raised his brows.

“I do. Workin’ for the Roberts family. You know, the lady and the baby?”

“Really? And what exactly are they hiring you to do?”

“Take care of the baby? Clean house? Cook? Whatever it is, I’m damn glad to be doin’ it”

 “I be wishin’ ya luck,” Burt said.

“I owe it to you for gettin’ me in the hotel, Burt,” she said.

“Never mind. It’s your own doin’. You deserve a break, girl.”

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