TUESDAY TALES - PROMPT RACE - MIDNIGHT IN CENTRAL PARK

Welcome! Today's word prompt is "race". We have anothere episode of "Midnight in Central Park." Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales. Thank you for stopping by.

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At five thirty, Trevor and Abby got up to go home. I strolled over to the turtle pond to have dinner. There’s a bench by the water. I like to eat with the turtles and the birds. There are two cool birds there. I looked them up. They’re cormorants—I looked it up at school. They swoop over the water, looking for fish. Sometimes they dive-bomb. Sometimes they swim, then duck under the water. The fish don’t stand a chance.

I unwrapped the package from Mrs. Hernandez. Meat loaf. My favorite. I saved the water bottle  from Ramon, and headed over to the fountain by the Shakespeare Theater. I’ve never seen a play there, but I’d like to. Sitting outside and watching actors. Might like that.

It’s peaceful at the pond, when the people leave.  Mom had made it clear, this would be a good night to find someplace else to sleep. Fine. I’d rather camp out in the park than see the shit that goes on at home when she’s “working.” It makes me wanna throw up.

So I scouted out a place to sleep. The big tree by the pond that gave me enough cover at night came down in a storm last year. So that was out. Might sleep on the wooden dock that juts out over the pond. It’s plenty dark there at night. The wood is hard, but my sleeping bag gives some cushion.

I stretched out on a bench. There’d be plenty of light for a couple more hours, so I finished my homework. Right after sunset, I got up. The park closes officially at 1 a.m. for suckers. Not for me. But those last two or three hours are the most dangerous times. I like to keep moving until one.

I got up and headed for Bethesda Fountain. Late at night, you can wash your feet there, almost take a bath, if there are no people or cops around. The lake got dark when the sun went down. Shadows closed in giving bad people lots of places to hide.

I pulled my sleeping bag from under a bush and brushed it off.

“Well, well. Who’s this?”

I jumped, almost straight up. Two guys, both taller than me. Hell, that wasn’t hard. Even Abby was taller than me. They faced me, looking mean.

“What do you want?”

“What do you got?” the smaller one asked.

“Nothin. Nothin. If you’re lookin’ for a rich kid, it ain’t me.”

“We’ll be the judge of that.”

I edged backward, toward the Literary Walk of Fame. When my feet hit the mall, I turned and ran like Hell. They raced after me. 

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TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "CHEST" - URBAN FANTASY CONTINUES...

Welcome! This week's word prompt is "chest." We have another episode of "Midnight in Central Park" today. Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales. Thanks for stopping by. 

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In Central Park, Ramon had set up his hot dog stand. Tourists and residents, tired of being apartment prisoners, had come to the park to breathe what we call “fresh” air. Too many people crowded the paths, dropping garbage, just plain taking up space. 

“How’s it goin’?” I asked.

“Bueno. Hambre?”

“Si,” I replied. I was always hungry.

He dug into a bag of rolls, then plucked a hot dog out of the steaming water with a long fork and shoved it in.

“Here,” he said, handing it and a bottle of water to me.

“Thanks.”

I dressed the thing with catsup and mustard and wolfed it down. Ramon had the best hot dogs. He didn’t mind exchanging one with me for toting his garbage.

“Esto,” he said, pointing to a closed black plastic bag. I nodded, chewed the last of the dog, wiped my mouth, and picked up the bag. I carted it over to the curb. When the guy with the truck came, they’d load that in, too. Park had rules and vendors couldn’t leave garbage. Ramon didn’t like to have it near the stand. He said it looked messy and dogs peed on it.

When I finished the task, I headed for Balto. I plopped down on the grass opposite the statue and took a swig of water. Taylor and Abby came out from the tunnel and joined me.

“You got that essay on Cather In the Rye?” Taylor asked.

I opened my backpack.  

“Yeah. The math?”

Taylor pulled a sheet out of his backpack.  

I did the English homework, Taylor did the math. We traded. Because we had different teachers, the plan worked. If my grades dropped, some nosy admin person from school might come sniffing around my place. A disaster in the making.  

“Here.” Abby pulled a small bag from her purse. 

Abby’s chocolate chip cookies were to die for. She wanted to be a professional baker. With her chest, she could be an amazing topless waitress. I never told her, cause she’d have smacked me good.

“Thanks. Your cookies? The best.” I opened the bag and offered one to Taylor. He shook his head.

“I had some yesterday.”

Taylor was Abby’s official boyfriend. He hung at her house a lot. But truth? She liked me better and I liked her. But a girlfriend was pretty much off limits since I never had any money. 

I counted six cookies in the bag. That meant two for now, two after dinner, and two for breakfast tomorrow. I planned ahead. 

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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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