#I wote this on my phone while on the way to work the past week

[seagull-laugh]

The Sickly Duckling

The office was cold and quiet. Only the tapping of keys from the various computers could be heard throughout the various rooms and halls. Donald took up this job not even a week ago but he was already bored of it. As he sipped his now cold coffee he continued to read the writing displayed on his computer monitor, he analysed texts and cross referenced the data repetitively for hours until the silence was broke but the fain sound of his mobile ringing. Donald didn’t speak to his family anymore and hadn’t for five years, he had friends but he hadn’t seen or spoke to them much either, not since he adopted the boys, and they where currently in school, so he just ignored its tones and carried on until he suddenly remembered, He’s their emergency contact. Somethings must be up with the boys.

Donald quickly answered the phone and cleared his throat, people struggled to understand him on a day to day basis, having a dry throat wouldn’t help. “Hello, is this Mr.Duck?” “Yes, eh, speaking!” He tried to calm his voice “Is everything okay?” “One of your sons, Hubert, has thrown up in school, you will need to come and Collect Him” then with urgency “I’ll be there right away”, he stopped himself from hanging up the phone to bring it back to his cheek “thank you”. With that he quickly headed to his Boss’ office.

When Dewey was sick he liked to pretend he wasn’t, he was stubborn like that, and of course that made him a handful to look after. When Louie was sick he was a lot easier to look after, he was already the laziest out of the three of them and thou he enjoyed playing with his brothers he was also perfectly happy lounging around somewhere, thou when he was sick he tended to like physical contact, constantly leaning against or snuggled up to Donald while he slept, Even just holding his hand seemed to help the little boy relax. This of course was fine, if they where just in the House Boat, but otherwise was hard to manage. When Huey was sick he was more than happy to be left alone. He read something in his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook that said if you where sick it was best to drink water and get plenty of rest, it also said to have the woodchuck guide look you over (as they are trained in health and Safety) and do as they say as they will know the best course of action to take to ensure your health. Because Donald was his legal Guardian, the role of Senior Woodchuck of course went to him, this meant if Donald said it was best to sit on your own and sleep then Huey would do so. Of course Donald wouldn’t dream of leaving a sick duckling unattended BUT it meant that he could still do his work with Huey present in the Office, if his new Employer would allow it.

After a lot of pleading Donald’s boss agreed to let him collect Huey during his lunch break and bring him back to the office for the rest of his shift that day. He knew in his mind that this meant he won’t have time to eat today but his nephew was more important. He quickly got in his car to drive to the school. As he drove down the road he thought of all the events that had happened that morning to determine if he had missed any signs of an Illness. All three boys got up in the morning when Donald woke them, they then all got dressed, as usual Louie took longer while Huey and Dewey seemed to easily roll out of bed and get ready for the day. They all ate the breakfast Donald made them, all plates where empty. They then wen’t to the bathroom to brush their teeth and wash their faces. All as Normal. Afterwards Louie And Dewey started playing with their toys cars and Huey sat on the couch, it was his turn to do something for show and tell and he wanted to tell his class about the Junior Woodchucks. He only recently got into them but he was very interested in it and Donald remember thinking how cute it was. No signs of any of the boys being Ill or poorly this morning had occurred. He thought again to last night. They Boys did their homework, ate all their food, played their games as usual, had their Baths and went to bed. Again nothing unusual. Donald replayed all the events from when he picked them up from school yesterday to when he dropped them off this morning over and over again and he tried to find a sign that he had previously missed. Then the realisation hit him.

Huey liked to plan things out, every last detail, and when things don’t go to plan he starts to freak out. Dewey and Louie refer to it as ‘Huey is Broken’, because of how uncharacteristically he starts to behave. Donald figured that something must have gone wrong during ‘show and tell’ and during his little ‘break down’ he worked himself up to much and that caused him to be sick, that of course upsetting him more and making him feel worse.

When Donald arrived at the school he rushed to the main office, the Woman from the phone was the one to greet him and told him Huey Threw up during a talk in class, confirming Donalds Suspicions (he knew his boys). When she let him through to get Huey he saw the chick curled up on a chair with his knees to his chest, and tears welling in he eyes. He was also shaking quite a bit. On the Chair next to him was his School bag, his lunch still untouched inside, and his Woodchuck Junior Guidebook. Donald walked over, crouched down in-front of him and placed his hands on his shoulders “Hey Huey, You did your best today and that’s what counts” a single tear started to roll down his cheek while he nodded his head. Donald really wanted to reassure him that everything was okay and that it is okay that things don’t always work out how we want but he knew that wouldn’t help and that he didn’t have the time. “I have to get back to work. Will you come with me?” Huey’s big eyes looked into Don’s worn out ones for a few seconds until he spoke “Okay”, Donald then leaned forward and gave him a hug before picking him and his stuff up and thanking the Lady before heading back to the car. Donald set Huey up in the back seat, he took his Blazer off and placed it over the boy to form a blanket. While driving back Huey didn’t speak except once when he muttered an apology and Don had to reassure him he had nothing to apologise for. Once back in the office he pushed a second Chair to his desk and Huey sat on there, still using Dons jacket for warmth until he fell back asleep.

Working at the office was boring, time seemed to stop and Don could almost feel his braincells dying while he typed away at the computer, the rumbles of his stomach didn’t help either, but every time he glanced to his left he saw one of his dear boys wrapped up in his jacket and it made him smile. Being a single parent was incredibly hard and not anything like what Don wanted in his list of dreams and ambitions, but he truly loved them with all his heart and thou the ideal situation would be for Della to still be around, he was still more than happy to have them in his life. He Called the baby sitter at four O’Clock to check with the babysitter and make sure the other two boys where okay, he reassured her Huey was safe with him and that they would be home for Six. Once the Clock struck five donald quickly started to pack his stuff away and turn off his computer, once everything was set he put his blazer back on and put his car keys in his beak. Huey was only six but he still would take two arms to carry back to the car. Donald’s Notorious bad luck happened to strike him in the carpark when he went to take the keys out his mouth while still carrying Huey and they fell to the floor, jabbing his foot first. With a loud Quack and a hop Huey woke up and Donald fell to the floor, He landed on his back so Huey was okay but that didn’t make it any less painful. Huey stood up while Don grabbed the keys and opened the car door, this time he climbed into the front seat so he could sit next to his uncle.

The traffic this time of day was horrendous and doubled travel time, everyone on the road was on a mission to get as far away from work as they could and was in a terrible mood for being stuck in traffic. The muffled sounds of beeping horns and shouting could be heard from outside the vehicle making both males happy that The younger hadn’t tried to sleep on the way home. The car was otherwise in complete silence.

Donalds Parked the car and turned to Huey. “Listen. I know your talk about the Woodchucks didn’t go how you wanted. And I understand, when you work really hard on something its sad when it doesn’t go the way you want… but it’s okay and it just means next time you can try again” the little boy just nodded slowly and honestly didn’t look too convinced. “When we get home I want you to put you Pyjamas on and go have a nap in my bed okay?”. Another Slow unsure nod was given as response. That Night on the House Boat was pretty hard work, it’s hard to dote on a sick child a-swell as occupy and supervise two others single handedly while trying to keep them separated, but that was fine, He would do anything for these boys no matter how hard. Huey wasn’t really sick, after-all he threw up with nerves but Don didn’t want to risk the other two getting sick so he did his best looking after him. That night Don flopped into bed and let out a long and tired sigh, he was exhausted and life just wouldn’t give him a break, his body constantly felt heavy and this was one of the few times he’d let the exhaustion consume him. Negative thought about how he’s wasting his life kept pestering him and he hated it. He felt something push up against his side, he looked down and was Huey snuggling up to him. Being a Single parent was hard, finding a job was challenging, trying to support three unique individuals was draining and the ever growing stress-levels bringing him down was more then he could take, but seeing the boys smile. Knowing that all his hard work was paying off. Well. It was more than worth it.

[lizshine74]

Permission to write something fun.

Last night, I wrote a story just for fun.

I had assigned myself the story and I had to have it written by the time the bell rang for my first class this morning. Every year for the past few years, I have written my students a letter and asked them to write me a reply. Yesterday afternoon, still in my classroom at 5:45, I hit upon an inspiration. What if I had them write a short story instead?

Write a short story on a theme you currently are interested in. 

Just like with the letter, I promised to write one too, to show what a good sport I was and to give a model for guidance should the task seem daunting.

I had no idea what I would right by the time I made it to the gym to teach my 7:30 yoga class and it wasn’t until I was walking home after yoga that the first sentence came to me.

I finished the story at 6:34 this morning, just in time to dress for work.

Here’s the story I wote:

She’s reached the point of highest tension in the story. Somebody is probably going to die. It’s possible Zach is the murderer after all,  and they were all fooled by his charm. The gun is sure to go off before the scene ends.

Zoe sits down at the kitchen table to write. Her family is on a trip to the beach without her. She has Sweet John to thank for that.

“I haven’t been writing anything,” she said, last night, letting her head thud to their finished oak table.

“What’s the problem?” John asked.

“I don’t know. I can’t focus. Too many distractions.”

An hour or so later he came into the laundry room where she stood folding tiny jeans.

“What if at least once a week I took the kids somewhere for a few hours so you could get something done?”

Beyond grateful, she told him yes, that would be great. Even that one day could do a lot to help her focus, overall. It’s hard to write with kids around, especially three of them.

Every week for a few months now, on Saturdays, John has taken the kids on a new adventure so Zoe can write. Today, John planned a doozy.

“We’ll be gone a while,” he said. “It takes an hour just to get there.”

Ten minutes after they pulled out of the driveway, Zoe sat down to write. She opened her document and reviewed the last few paragraphs written. She leaned back into her chair, put her feet up on the table and reread the last few paragraphs she had written.

She wiggled her burgundy painted toes, nails long, paint chipped. A three-month old coat, she thought. Maybe a pedi would inspire her? She could think while she painted.

She walked up the stairs to the master bedroom to get her bin of polish, then reseated herself in front of her laptop, her body turned away from the screen. She moved bottles around trying to see each color possibility and finally chose a shimmering green for inspiration.

The sun pushed through the windows. Painting her toes, Zoe could feel her long red curls heavy on the back of her neck, itchy. She finished her toes and put glittery pink toe separators in, then walked on her heels back upstairs to get a hair-tie.

Returning, she twisted her hair up into a bun and cinched it with the tie.

Interlacing her fingers, she pressed the palms of her hands away from her in that way people warm up, gain energy and confidence for the task before them. She settled back into writing, shifting from side to side in her seat to test how long she could feasibly sit.

She could sit a long while.

She reread the last few paragraphs she had written, wrote a sentence.

Zack picked up the single action Smith and Wesson .357 and inspected it from all sides as if he’d never seen it before.

Zoe’s phone buzzed. She thought she probably should have turned it off, but she turned it over to check the message anyway, then immediately wished she hadn’t because now she couldn’t ignore the message.

Call me. I’m desperate.

Probably it was nothing, but what if Patti really needed her. She couldn’t abandon her best friend in her moment of greatest need. What if something was wrong with the kids? What if she and Alec had a fight—a big fight?

She picked up the phone and took it out into the backyard, dialing on the way.

Patti picked up.

“What’s wrong?” Zoe asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Patty said, then told a rather long story about her mother-in-law and how she’d called Patti’s youngest boy skinny-minny and how Patti couldn’t make her understand that weight-focused nicknames did damage to self-image.

“Uh-huh,” Zoe said.

Time passed.

“Uh-huh,” Zoe said, again.

Over an hour later, the phone call ended. Zoe sat for a moment looking at her back yard, noticing how the grass had gotten long and needed mowing, and the deck needed refinishing, and she had forgotten to hang up that hummingbird feeder she impulse-bought at Fred Meyer last time she shopped there. Her raspberries hung heavy on the vines, ready to pick. Zoe’s hips ached when she rose to return to the house and she wondered if she had tweaked something at Zumba last night. She walked upstairs, sifted through the bathroom drawers until she found some muscle rub and applied the salve.

Back downstairs, she returned to writing, interlaced her fingers, pressed her palms away from her, reread the last few paragraphs she had written.

She clicked the Chrome icon on the task bar. She’d just check real quick, then she’d start writing.

87 notifications and 6 personal messages later, her stomach began to growl. She went to the refrigerator and took stock, indecisive.

She took out a wheel of brie and a pint of fresh blueberries. She went to the cupboard and selected rosemary-garlic artisan crackers, then sliced up the watermelon on the counter. She ate at the kitchen island, watching their cat walk back and forth across the window to the back yard.

She let the cat in and filled his bowl.

She sat down to write again, flexing her fingers away from her, really going to focus this time.

She wrote one sentence, then another. Her phone buzzed and she ignored it this time. She typed and typed, but couldn’t outrun the moment approaching.

The front door opened and her family spilled in, greeting her with smiles and stories, all three children talking at once.

“How did it go?” John asked.

“It went pretty well,” Zoe said. “It took me a while to warm up, but it went well. I think I’m really getting to the heart of the story now too.”

“That’s great!” John said.

Zoe closed her laptop, settled back in to her family.

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Interested in hiring me as a coach to get you boosted with your writing goals?Find free resources and information here.Some past posts to keep you making time: Adjust your pace accordingly.It’s about the routine and how you shake up the routineThere are things you will have to give upSee it to achieve itWashing the dishesWrite slowlyA celebration of the pauseMonday, a run through the driving rainZen accidentGet out of your comfort zone

Permission to write something fun. was originally published on Make Time.