Welcome to the Creative Perspective Challenge Ten results! I was impressed by what others came up with. Here’s a link for an amazing poem from Sandra, and below is not only my take but some fantastic flash fiction from Priscilla Bettis.
Sandra Cox: LINK
HIGH SCHOOL LOVE by Priscilla Bettis
On graduation day, Joseph knelt and removed the little promise ring on my finger and exchanged it for a laugh. “It’s been fun, Babe,” he said.
Momma held me. “Don’t let this harden your heart,” she cooed. “Even as Christ forgave you, so also—” I pushed her and her stupid religion away. I fled. Fled my family, fled the town.
After ten years’ absence, I returned, clutching letters (after my name) and my hatred of men. I drove straight toward Joseph’s house, fuming that the cruellest boy in high school lived in a picturesque home where warm light and laughter leaked through spotless windows, where spicy sugared smells of gingerbread hovered in the air about the house.
I stood before Joseph’s house, now abandoned save for a stray dog. My vengeance had been thwarted! I screamed at the dog and threw clumps of dirt at the empty house. Dust and the odor of mold oozed through broken windows. Darkness licked the eaves. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the foundation, its stones as hard as my vile heart.
THE BOY AND THE FOX by D. L. Finn
They appeared every night at eleven, the boy and his fox. The newly installed camera caught them, but I still couldn’t see the boy’s face. It was always shrouded in shadows and further hidden by a hat. His features remained a mystery.
It started two weeks ago. Unafraid, I threw the door open.
“Hello! Do you need help?”
They disappeared silently into the forest. I tried for three nights with the same results, so I stopped. Even peeking out the window would make them leave. What did the boy want? I guessed him to be about thirteen, much like Boyd was before…
“No, it’s not my son. He and Ted died a year ago. I’m alone, but it’s okay to keep their memory alive. I have many good memories.” I dutifully did what my therapist suggested to stop the despair and my self-blame for their death.
But tonight, the negative thoughts still crept in. If I had only gone with them, maybe the timing would have been different, or if I hadn’t suggested pizza, they never would have left. But that isn’t how it happened. I was living in a house paid for by the money from the construction company whose heavy beam fell on them. I would give back the money and everything I own to have my family back.
I shook my head and focused on the boy. “Has to be a neighbor’s boy that sneaks out after his parents go to bed.”
A week into it, my worrying for his safety won, and I reported this to the sheriff.
“Probably just a local taking their dog for a walk, Mrs. Haily. Unlikely it’s a kid, and it doesn’t sound like you’re in danger. Keep your door locked just to be safe. If anything changes, give us a call.” Sheriff Daniel tipped his hat and, without making eye contact the entire time, left.
No report was taken.
My worry turned to curiosity, and I asked locals at the grocery and hardware store about the boy. Pity reflected in their eyes as they replied. Pity. How could they know about my past already? My nervous breakdown. Discouraged that my past followed me to this little town, I stopped asking questions.
I continued to settle into my new house during the day and waited to see if the boy returned each night. As accurate as my grandfather clock, the boy and fox made their appearance. I watched from the comfort of my bed on my phone screen.
“Why can’t I see your face?”
Both stood like statues, watching the house. Then, the night before Halloween, he did something new. He sat down, and the fox climbed into his lap. They stayed like that for over an hour and then got up and quietly returned to the woods.
“Maybe you’re more comfortable now.” I smiled and fell into the deepest sleep I’d had in a year.
I awoke rested on a foggy mountain Halloween morning. Although it was my favorite holiday, it was the anniversary of my family’s death. The familiar pain weaved its greedy spell over me as I thought of the movies never watched, pizza eaten, or laughter shared.
I took a long, deep breath, trying to avoid that dark place that had consumed me last year. “No. Remember the good times. Speak them.” I took another deep breath and picked up the photo album. Nine-year-old Boyd stood next to the elephants with a huge grin. He was wearing his favorite Chicago Bears hat and jersey. “That was a fun day when I took Boyd to the zoo during spring break. He loved all the animals and wanted to rehab injured animals when he grew up.” A chill shot through me as I turned the page, remembering the stuffed fox he slept with each night when he was little. Focus. “Here’s the time when we went to the ocean for vacation. He and Ted chased the waves until they were completely soaked. I was so lucky to have had them both in my life. I…”
I sighed and shut the album. Maybe I should try something else. I poured all the candy I had bought for Halloween into a bowl. No children would trick or treat at my isolated house, but maybe…
I set the bowl outside the door at 10:30. In a loud voice, I spoke to the dark trees. “I hope you like candy, and I left you a note. Maybe we can be friends.” No response.
I sat by the roaring fire, staring at my phone. Finally, the boy and the fox arrived. Carefully, they approached the candy. The boy whose face was still hidden under a blue cap looked around and hesitated before snatching up a chocolate bar. He tugged off the wrapper and popped it into his mouth. That would have been Boyd’s pick, too. Then he dug through the bowl and ate three more pieces and shared gummy worms with the fox. Wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand, he bent down to pet the fox and returned the wrappers to the bowl. The letter remained unread.
I watched, barely breathing. Should I open the door?
He finally picked up the note and read it. With a slight nod, he knocked on the door.
Peeking through the peephole, I saw he had removed his hat. I immediately recognized his face and flung the door open.
“Boyd?”
“I came back so you wouldn’t be alone, Mom. This is Foxy, who’s been my friend on this side.”
I gathered him in a hug. He felt real, not ghost-like. “Why didn’t you come to the door sooner?”
“I could only come tonight. Weird rules, and Dad couldn’t come at all.”
My heart fluttered. “Is he okay?”
He smiled, “Yes, but misses you.”
“I miss him too. Come in.”
Boyd stepped into the house and stood by the fire, rubbing his hands together. The fox settled down on the fake bear rug next to him.
“I have so many questions and…”
He held up his hand. “I know you do, Mom. My time is limited to tonight with you, and there’s little I can share with you. But know that we will be there when it’s your time. It was our time, Mom. Not yours. Understand?”
His green eyes had a knowing they never had in real life. “I think so. When is my time?”
“Can’t tell you, Mom. Rules, remember?”
“Got it.” I zipped my lips.
“Although I can only talk to you tonight, I’ll drop by every night. I promise.”
It didn’t matter that this didn’t make any sense; I was going to enjoy my few hours with my son. “Can I make you a grilled cheese?”
“I’d love that.”
“Maybe we could watch some scary movies.”
He smiled. “Perfect.”
I never spoke of that night to anyone, and like clockwork, my son and his fox came every night and stood by the house. That was enough for me.
