Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: GENEROUS (10/14/21)
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TITLE: TWO SIDES, ONE SPIRIT | Previous Challenge Entry
By Micki Bowers
10/16/21 -
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Yet another “concerned” family member was piling into the already crowded 7-inch screen on her cell phone.
This text drama had been going on for so long that she vacillated between letting her phone battery die a natural lithium death - or restoring it back to life and prolonging the “textfersation” that had been ping-ponging back and forth with increasing use of CAPITAL LETTERS and multiple exclamation marks to drive home each other’s points.
Piiiing. Ping. PING! Even the melodic tone sounded aggressive.
She gave the offending device the stink-eye as she ruminated over the fate of this situation. She could continue to participate in the discussion (with building resentment and indignation) and defend their decision - or shut the phone off, claim the battery must’ve died, and find temporary peace from the tedious and intrusive conversation. Finally, she decided, “death to the battery!”
As she reached for the phone, her husband, Matt, picked it up and said, “Enough of this! I’m going to settle this once and for all!” She responded with the immortal cinematic declaration, “Well, alrighty then!”
Matt seemed to punch each key in the face as he crafted what would be the definitive end to the mile-long thread of well-meaning but misguided plea’s each starting with, “You better…! You MUST!!... YOU CAN’T…!!! He worked up quite a sweat and, while moments earlier Andréa wished death to her phone – she now feared for its life!
With a flourish, Matt set her phone back on the counter and puffed up his chest with pride for having conquered the familial rage fest. She could almost hear the scampering of feet as each of them quickly abandoned the tiny screen and took cover after Matt’s “incoming!” Andréa kissed her prince on the cheek and promised him an extra scoop of ice cream with dessert for his valiant rescue.
The discussion marinated in her head, though. She thought about friends that were on “their side” and others that were firmly encamped on “the other side.” This issue had blown into such a polarizing verbal slugfest that it made her teeth itch just thinking about it. She worried and wondered how she and Matt could manage to stand their ground and not share in the divisive rhetoric without bloodshed. “Ah, well…we’ll figure it out tomorrow” as she drifted off to sleep.
Morning came blazing in through the window. Andréa’s right eye peeked open at the sound of her 8-year-old son hollering, “Moooooooommmeeee, wake uuuup!” from the kitchen. She could feel her bleary eyeball tracking to the clock to see what time it was. It was nearly ten a.m.! Her mind registered shock, but her body felt like she’d been buried in wet sand, and her head was encased in a block of cement. She felt hideous and wondered, “What in the cornfed hell is going on here?”
Then, the realization hit her. Her left eye managed to engage with her mind’s command to open, and she looked up at the ceiling with both bloodshot eyes wide and thought, “THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING. I AM NOT SICK! NOFREAKINGWAY!” Then she had a coughing fit so violent that it summoned Matt into the bedroom with a look of both horror and confusion as he gazed at the state of his usually lovely wife and heard the guttural, deep, hacking sounds emanating from the depths of middle earth that came from her mouth.
He crept closer, sat slump-shouldered on the edge of the bed, and uttered words she could barely comprehend. “I don’t feel well, either.” Then he flopped back on the bed, and they both lay there in their respective misery, wondering how they’d ever break this news to everyone. They felt the sludge of hypocrisy oozing over them.
They dragged themselves to the clinic and confirmed the diagnosis. Then in a humiliatingly consistent “rinse and repeat” cycle, they sheepishly confessed their situation as they reprioritized their lives while incubating and isolating themselves from the world for a few weeks.
During their recovery, however, friends and family from BOTH camps rallied around them. They had food delivered, shopped for groceries, mowed their huge yard, and lovingly tended to their every need. There was no condemnation. No accusation. No, “I told you so!” Just a generosity of spirit and grace that healed ALL of them.
Thanksgiving will be extra special this year. Praise God and pass the figgy pudding.
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I think you are brilliant.
Any red ink is entirely subjective. As a reader I felt your MC was not easy to get close to. A touch of the smart alec.
Maybe it's just that her wisecracking was necessarily packed into the word limit- making her a mobile mouth.
Then again a good story impacts the reader- and your MC succeed.
You are a very talented writer.