Campfire

Friday Fictioneers prompt for September 5, 2014 ©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

We sat by the campfire and we were all taken in by the cacophonous crackle of capricious combustion. John told inappropriate jokes that were utterly obfuscated by one too many horizontal meters of beer – which is to say one horizontal meter of beer. My knees burned because they were somehow, through the contorted way I sat on the camping chair, the closest part of my body to the flames. Tired of John’s incoherent babbling, I contemplated how a few inches can reduce the heat exponentially and how my own hands could be used as a heat shield; as if I just discovered that
q = ε σ (T_h⁴ - T_c⁴) A_c.

Teddy

Copyright-Ted Strutz

It was ironic, the view from dentist’s office at the St. Alban’s Home for Unwanted Boys in Eastport. Sure that wasn’t the official name, but that’s what us inmates called it. It’s strange how quickly things change. I remember playing with Teddy every day: stealing 5 cent candies from Cooper’s Candy Shop, running around the docks where the fishing boats would push off before the sun stirred, pestering the ferry goers coming to work at the cannery. It was an accident, one that I will have to live with every day. I miss him more than anyone. Isn’t that punishment enough?

Super Dad

“Where is he, mom?”

“You know your father. He’ll be here. Has he ever missed the important days?”

“Seriously?!” I ticked off countless events on my fingers. “Really, mom, do you want me to keep going?”

“But this is your Med School graduation. I’m sure he’ll be here.”

“I know he’s a busy man, but this is getting ridiculous. He always puts everyone else first.”

“Look, here he comes.”

“No, that’s a bird.”

“Is that him?”

“Nope, that’s a plane.”

“Oh yeah… how about that?”

“No... wait, that’s him.”

“Sorry I’m late, son.”

“It’s okay, dad. I'm glad you're here.”

 

Unwanted Changes

Unwanted Changes

Copyright – Erin Leary

It’s the Sunday mornings alone with him I miss the most. We would follow the old post and rail fence down the country road to the pond at the edge of our property. It’s been a while since he had the desire to go fishing with me. It’s been a while since he had the desire to do anything.

The happiness was replaced by rage, the smiles with scowls, and the undying love with anger. Where did my baby go? This is not how an eight-year-old should be. I would give my life for one more smile.