TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "ORANGE" - ANOTHER EPISODE OF MIDNIGHT IN CENTRAL PARK

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

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Lunchtime in the cafeteria.

“I don’t see you at breakfast anymore.” Sarah, one of the cafeteria workers, said.

“I eat at home now.”

Wow. That word. “Home.” Slipped from my mouth like I’d been saying it all my life. No need to correct it, though. Everyone didn’t have to know I was living at the Golds.

“Here. I’ve been saving this for you. I know you like them.” She slipped an orange on my lunch tray.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

I put it in my pocket. Always good to have something when I was in the park. Never know when you can count on the hot dog guy to be there.

I took my seat in math class. The teacher called me up to her desk.

“Principal wants to see you. Now.” She opened her book and stood up in front of the class.

Sweat started under my arms and on my upper lip. I slipped quietly into the hall. This couldn’t be good. Mr. Goodwell and I didn’t get along. Goodwell. Evilwell was more like it. He hated kids like me. The feeling was mutual. He was a snob. Wanted me to call him “Dr. Goodwell,” just because he had some fuckin’ degree. I never did.

When I got close to the office, I saw Mr. Gold standing by the secretary’s desk. Oh, fuckin’ Hell! This just got a whole lot worse. No way could this be good. Should I go in or take off? I didn’t have any money saved or a plan of escape worked out yet. The timing was bad. Very bad.

Too late! He turned, spied me, and came to the door.

“Oh, good, Jamie. Here. I’m on my lunch break. Wanted you to have this right away.”

He shoved something in my hand. It was a cell phone. Fuck! A cell phone? Me?

“Yeah. This way we can contact you and you us if there’s an emergency or something. My number and my wife’s are already saved. Just go to contacts. Do you know how to use a cell phone?”

“I’ll figure it out. Thanks.”

I rubbed my thumb over the black screen. I’d never had one before. Something stung the back of my eyes.

“Just remember, young man. All cell phones are to be switched off in school.”

It was that asshole Goodwell. Yeah, like I actually had somebody to call? Right. Uh, no.

“See you at dinner.” Mr. G. smiled at me and headed for the front door.

“Back to class.” Goodwell scowled at me.

I shoved the phone in my back pocket. A cell phone. Damn. Who knew?

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TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "LAUGHTER" #laughter #tuesdaytales #amwriting

Welcome to Tuesday Tales. My urban fantasy, "Midnight in Central Park" continues today. Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales. Thanks for stopping by. 

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I’d been to the Park but couldn’t get comfortable. It was cold outside and I kept thinking about my bed at the Gold’s. About two, I gave up. I knew they didn’t like it when I slept in the Park, especially Mr. G. So I’d get up with the sun and sneak back in. But not tonight. It was cold and I was tired.

I figured they’d be asleep anyway, so I took the elevator up and crept down the hallway on tiptoes to their door. I couldn’t believe they’d given me a key. Mrs. Plaid told me that was a big compliment. Nobody gave keys to the foster kids. Too many had ripped them off, stealing stuff and throwing parties.

I didn’t tell anyone except Mrs. Plaid that I had a key. Some of the bullies in school might have tried something if they knew. I put my hand in my pocket, fingering the cold metal. It felt good. It meant they trusted me. Of course they were wrong, ‘cause I’d be heading out as soon as it got warm. As I turned the key over and over, I wondered how it would feel to have a regular key ring—to jangle keys, like I had a regular place to live, with a lock, not a shelter or charity.

Maybe I’d get a key ring in January. Just until it warmed up, like April or May, when I’d take off. I opened the lock quietly and slid the door open. Voices! I couldn’t believe they were still up, and on a school night. As I crept across the foyer to the hall, I stopped to listen at their door.

Yeah, I know, that’s not a nice thing to do. Tough shit. I’d been listening at doors since I was six.

“And then Harvey said…” it was Mr. G’s voice.

“Would you believe I’m waiting for a train?” Mrs. G. spoke.

Then the loudest laughter I’d heard in fucking forever. I stood still, drinking in the sound. Prettier than the best music, it filled me up and made me smile. If I hadn’t been sneaking in, I would have laughed, too.

It felt like they laughed forever. When they stopped, I moved closer to my room, but the voices started up again.

“I’m worried about Jamie.” It was Mrs. G. Uh oh. That didn’t sound good.

“Don’t worry, honey. Jamie’s gonna be fine. He’s come a long way already. He’s doing well. You’ll see.”

Then I heard kissing and knew it was time to hightail it to my own room. I threw an extra blanket on the bed, closed the window, stripped down, and slid between the sheets. Maybe someday I could laugh like that, too. Maybe even with the Golds?

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TUESDAY TALES - PICTURE PROMPT - MORE OF MIDNIGHT IN CENTRAL PARK - AN URBAN FANTASY

Welcome! Thanks for coming. This is picture prompt week. We're only allowed 300 words. So it's a short and sweet episode of Midnight in Central Park. Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales. Thanks for stopping by.

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When I show up after school, Mrs. Gold has a plate of cookies and a glass of milk waiting for me. Kids are supposed to hate milk. Not me. I love it. Milk makes me feel strong. We never had it at home. But the lunchroom ladies would slip me an extra carton at breakfast, 'cause not that many kids showed up then.

I haven’t been to the park for three nights now. I’m getting soft. I like the bed. None of my friends want to hit the road with me. If I run, I travel alone. So I’m thinking about waiting ‘til spring. Too damn cold in the winter to be sleeping outside, anyway.

I’m doing my math homework when I smell something good. Picking up my empty glass, I use a refill as my excuse to see what’s going on in the kitchen.

“It’s beef stew. Like it?” Mrs. G. is stirring something in a pot.

“Never had it. Sure smells good.”

“Mr. G’s favorite.”

“He likes it better than pot roast?”

She nodded. “Want a taste?” She scoops some up in a spoon and blows on it. Ma used to do that to hot cereal when I was a kid. Suddenly I feel like I’ve swallowed a rock.

“No thanks. I’ll wait.” I gotta go.

In my room, staring out the window at the high rises around me, memories flood my mind. I don’t want ‘em. I don’t want to remember when Ma was okay, and we lived close to normal. At the knock on the door, I turn.

“Come in.”

Mrs. G. enters, carrying my glass.

“You forgot this.” She puts the milk on my desk. “See you at dinner.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

She closes the door just in time. Hey guys don’t cry, right? Right.

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TUESDAY TALES. WORD PROMPT "EVIL"

Welcome! It's time for Tuesday Tales. We have more of "Midnight in Central Park" this week. It's my urban fantasy and it will be finishing soon. Scroll down to return to the excellent writers of Tuesday Tales.

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Every morning I woke up sure the Gold’s had been a dream. But it was real. And every night I waited for the next shoe to drop –them deciding they don’t want me or the Plaid Lady taking me away. Who would want me? Hell, if I was them, I wouldn’t want me, either.

I missed the park. The weather was getting cooler, making it harder and harder to sleep out there. I snuck away a couple of afternoons to visit Balto and that weird Jag guy who saved me.

Even with Snake and that asshole gone, I still felt the presence of evil. I wondered if Jag would turn against me. The atmosphere in the park had an edge, as if the evil that followed me was still around, waiting to jump me.

“No more sleeping in the park, Jamie,” Mrs. Gold said as she stirred the spaghetti sauce.

Who the fuck did she think she was, telling me what to do?

“Okay, Mrs. Gold.”

Tell ‘em what they want to hear. I learned that by the time I was seven.

“I mean it. It’s not safe. Muggers and who knows what other evil lurks there. You’re better off here with us.”

“You’re right.” String her along. Still, I felt what she talked about. It had been my rock. I needed the park, my safe place. I wished the Golds had been that, but who could I trust?

The truth? No one.

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TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "UNHAPPY".

Howdy! I'm back this week with the word prompt "unhappy." We're still with Jamie and the urban fantasy, Midnight in Central Park. Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales

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Time seemed to stand still, then rush by. How weird is that? A week after my life ended, I was told to go back to school. Really? Like nothing happened? I nodded and planned my escape in my mind.

But Sunday night was pot roast. No way was I running out on pot roast. The smell tormented me all day as I lay on my new bed and tried to focus. What had happened to my life? It had imploded, then ended, then started again?

I could hear Ma in my head. “Are you happy now?”

Happy? She was kiddin’ me. How could I be happy she’s gone? My life ran into a brick wall. She didn’t think old man Gold was gonna let me sleep in the park, did she? Still, the word unhappy couldn’t nearly describe what I felt. Is this what it feels like to die and become a zombie?

Emptiness filled me. That’s funny. How can you be full of nothing? I was. It was the only way to describe it. There was a knock.

“Dinner, Jamie.” It was the Missus, stickin’ her head in the door.

“Thanks.”

Pot roast. Damn. Was it too much to dream of mashed potatoes, too? Didn’t everyone make mashed potatoes to go with pot roast? I had no fuckin’ clue. I don’t know if I ever ate pot roast before. It just smelled do damn good, it had to taste good, too.

I washed my hands and joined them at the table.

“This is your seat, Jamie.” Mr. Gold pulled out a chair.

Get fuckin’ out! The man pulled out a chair for me. Too surreal. This is a dream. It can’t be reality.

Mrs. Gold served the food. Hot damn! Mashed potatoes! She made plates for everyone. My plate was heaped higher than the Mister’s.

“I hope you’re hungry.” She smiled as she passed the plate to me.

Hungry? Was she kidding? I could eat everything on that table and still have room for more.

I cut the meat and put some in my mouth. It was so good, it brought tears to my eyes. I blinked ‘em back. Pot roast was my new fantasy meal. I ate everything on my plate. She refilled it and I finished that, too.

I glanced at Mr. Gold. I saw pity in his eyes. I put my fork down. I don’t need no pity from anyone.

“Go on, son. Don’t let me stop you.” He smiled.

That’s all I needed. Chewing the last bite, my mouth wanted more, but my gut couldn’t take it. The Missus disappeared into the kitchen.

“Wait ‘til you see what’s for dessert.” Mr. Gold winked at me.

Fuckin’ damn. Dessert? The Missus came out carrying a pie. I could smell it across the room. It looked freshly baked.

“My wife’s specialty. Apple pie.”

“Yeah? Well it had better line up for number one right behind pot roast and mashed potatoes.”

He laughed. My mouth watered.

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