Day 3 – The Writing Prompt Boot Camp

Day 3 – The Writing Prompt Boot Camp

Day 3

MYSTERY COOKIE

One Day you come into work and find a cookie mysteriously placed on your desk. Grateful to whoever left this anonymous cookie, you eat it. The next morning you come in and find another cookie. This continues for months until one Day a different object is left—and this time there’s a note.

***

I was in a hurry that first morning, and I nearly did not notice it. One of the partners, Mrs. Cynthia Allred, had requested that I see her in the conference room about the Daley’s contract which was not even nearly finished, well it was, but I did not have a chance to triple check it and I was flustered. There was so much to do and so little time. I consulted my handy appointment tracker and sure enough I had a two hour appointment with Mr. Daley in approximately 45 minutes. I knew what needed to be done, but there were too many cases on my hands these days. I dumped my Gucci tote upon my office desk, plopped down in front of the computer and begun the minor edits. Within five minutes, I was on my way to the conference room ready give Mrs. Cynthia all the details before our fussiest client got there.

It was not until after that dreary meeting with Mr. Daley about his marital issues and his wife’s demands that I noticed it. It was like a tiny glimmer of hope, in a bad day. I had not even eaten lunch because there were eleven cases awaiting my attention and only three were making headway. Not to mention, Mr. Daley had a lot to say about his wife and her desire to drain every asset he possessed. That was certainly thrilling to bear through.

It lay like a beautiful rose in the midst of thorns on the desk in my office. I eyed it cautiously, wondering where it came from as my stomach growled, begging me to have it.

I questioned my secretary, Nancy, about it and she had no idea who left me this delicate piece of deliciousness. Clearly she was not doing her job properly. My stomach lurched in protest again as I withheld the beautifully made cookie from it.

Without even thinking about whether or not it was a ploy to have me poisoned or killed, because God knows the amount of people I have angered in my career over the years, I took that first bite. I felt like Eve eating the forbidden apple. It was invigorating and scrumptious.

I could tell immediately that it was double dark chocolate with white chocolate bits and a hint of spearmint, just the way I liked it. For all of the minute I took to devour the tummy tingling greatness, all my problems had disappeared. It was gone in the wind and never to be seen again. Until, of course, there was no more crunchy deliciousness to douse my problems. Then it was back to the reality of contracts, wills, testimonials and deeds to mull over.

The next morning there was another cookie awaiting me on the top of my pile of files to work on for the day. If I did not question it enough the day before, I certainly questioned it now!

While my taste buds celebrated, my mind whirled at the possibilities. When I asked Nancy about it again, she still knew nothing or pretended not to know. Either way, she was annoying me. She not only was slacking in her duty to monitor who came into my office, but my files were always late, and always had some grammatical or spelling error which would force me to do it over. It really was frustrating. I munched on the triple chocolate goodness as I settled myself in to do my day’s work. I had six appointments with clients that day and I needed to file several affidavits and subpoenas at the court, all before 1pm. I just hoped Nancy could keep up with me.

By the third week, I expected nothing less than my cookie to be awaiting me on my desk every morning, and so it was. After two months, I was so accustomed to it, that it became part of my daily routine to munch down the cookie as I settle down to start work each morning. Every night, I even prayed for my anonymous cookie deliverer, and asked God never to let anything horrible happen to them, because I would not get my cookie every day!

It was a gloomy morning when even though I searched through my entire desk, I couldn’t find the cookie! The date was Monday 1st May, 2013 and I was devastated! I sat dejected on my armchair as I mulled over what I had done to stop receiving my daily treat that I had grown to cherish. My first thought was that my prayer to keep my secret cookie deliverer safe had crumbled and I would never know who they were. However, I quickly dismissed the thought and mulled over other options until I chided myself for being so petty. It was just a cookie and I would survive this, I was sure. There were other cookies in the bakery. I chuckled to myself at that thought.

I sighed, letting out all my disappointment and resolved to get into my work. As I lifted the Dereck family’s case file about to stick my nose into getting those two boys back with their parents, a small silver package tied with gold ribbon fell to the floor. Curious, I retrieved it. There was a small elegant card attached, on which “Congratulations!” was printed in gold ink. The inside of the card read:

“Ms. Darrow,

Congratulations on your promotion to Partner. Please join me in my office upon receiving this. There is much to discuss.

P.S. I have a box of your favourite cookies for you.

Best of Regards,

Cynthia.”

By the time I was finished, my heart felt as though it was in my throat. I gaped at the card, re-read it, and read it again! My eyes welled with tears of joy. I opened the package to find a very classy gold pin which I recognized as the Chinese symbol for strength. Mrs. Allred and all the partners always wore it. I was amazed that this was truly happening to me. I made Partner!

I waited three minutes for my heartbeat to obtain a steady pace before heading over to Mrs. Allred’s office, only to have it pick up the same momentum on the short walk there. Before I could knock, alerting her of my presence, she waived me in and her secretary out.

“Ah, Ms. Darrow, you got my package I presume?” she stood as she greeted me.

“Yes! Mrs. Allred, I don’t know what to say!” was all I could manage in that moment.

“Say yes! You’re one of our most dedicated and hard-working employees, and you deserve this! And please call me Cynthia,” she said as she straightened out her skirt. “Come, sit. Let’s chat. Oh and here’s your box of cookies as promised!” she beamed as she handed me the clean white box filled with the delicious cookies.

“Oh thank you so much Mrs. Al…uhh…Cynthia!” I gushed, “These are my favourite!”

“Yes, yes. I know,” she smiled a knowing smile, “you never stop telling us! I thought it would be a nice treat for you for the past four months. When Albert made partner we gave him candy canes for four months even though it was the beginning of the year! Jessica got roses, and I got a slice of cherry cheesecake with cinnamon!” She continued, “Now, you’re bound not to tell the others, least they make partner.”

I was officially thrilled. Cynthia gestured towards the sofa, “Common, let’s get down to business…” and with that I officially became partner at Horace and Gineva Law Firm and I had an entire box of my favourite cookies! What more can a girl ask for?

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Day 2 – The Writing Prompt Boot Camp

Day 2 – The Writing Prompt Boot Camp

Day 2

THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY

You bump into an ex-lover on Valentine’s Day—the one whom you often call “The One That Got Away.” What happens?

***

“Ugh,” I muttered to myself as I struggled to get Marcy’s Flower Shop door open. Her store was flooded with a flurry of busy bodies of course, because it was Valentine’s Day.

I snaked my way through the perfumed crowd, my destination Marcy’s counter. She was fussing over a beautiful pink ribbon that wouldn’t sit straight on the bouquet of flowers she mounted in a crystal vase. She had insisted that I come directly to her store to visit her that day. She knew otherwise I would just stay in my apartment all day in my PJs and watch some oldies while stuffing double chunky chocolate ice cream. Boy was I boring. The only things I was missing were some cats. Mom would have already fixed me up with a secret Valentine for that day. Mom…I shook the thought away.

I stood studying Marcy for a moment. Her hair was tied back and was as beautiful as a sunset with golden streaks which glimmered like the last of the sun’s rays toppling over an ocean. Tender curls caressed her face which was elegantly dusted with light makeup. She had what you’d consider a model’s figure which she dressed in a neat navy blue skirt with a white blouse and matching blue pumps. She was the epitome of my best friend.

“Hey Marcy!” I said finally.

“Oh! Kindra! Hi darling! Happy Valentine’s Day!” she said as she plucked a single rose out of another vase as handed it to me along with a long hug and a peck on my cheek. It was a rare Veilchenblau  rose and there was a card with my name written in cursive handwriting.

“Aww! It’s breathtaking Marcy! Thank you!” I beamed. It was surely going to be my only Valentine’s Day treat, I was sure. I snickered to myself at the thought.

“You’re welcome Kindy, how’re doing?” she asked kindly.

I evaded her eyes, “I’m really good, I started that new job last week, and it’s pretty good so far.”

She placed a caring hand on my shoulder, “Kindy, you don’t have to hide from me. I know it has been hard since your mom passed, and I’m always here for you so please don’t shut me out.”

I smiled, “Thanks, I know you are. You’re amazing! I just don’t feel like pouring over things that can’t be changed, you know? Momma had a good life, and I cherish every moment that I ever had with her. Even though she’s not physically here with me, she gives me the strength to wake up every morning and get on with my life. It’s what she would have wanted, and I don’t want her to be disappointed in me.” My eyes welled with tears, but I refused to cry in the store.

Marcy embraced me and I felt myself being put back together. I don’t know how I would have survived these past few months without her by my side. She really was amazing.

“Oh! I almost forgot! There’s a surprise for you in the card on the rose,” she winked at me.

Curious, I opened it up. I had not noticed how heavy it was until now. Upon opening it, a brass key was taped onto the inside with the message, “Ginger is awaiting your presence!”

“MARCY! You didn’t! Is it really? How did you…” I trialed off as she embraced me yet again.

“Don’t ask questions, I know how much your beautiful Benz, Ginger meant to you and so I got it back for you, no questions asked!” she chided me.

I was speechless. I had to sell Ginger in order to pay Momma’s hospital bills, and I missed her since! She was the first car I had ever owned and I worked and saved up for it on my own. She was my baby. I’d often call her my better half because she had seen me through the last of High School, all of College and my working years until I sold her. She was there with me through all the ups and downs and she never let me down. Some of my friends chided me for having such an unhealthy relationship with my car but she was mine and no one could have come between us. She was the only constant in my life. She was the one that got away.

After giving Marcy some of her favourite  truffle chocolates and thanking her profusely for getting me my Ginger back, I leaped through the back door of the store to find my baby staring right at me. Her paint was a perfect glowing red which glittered below the sun’s rays. I jumped into the front seat and took a deep breath. She smelled so good, just as I remembered. I inserted the key and the engine purred to life—music to my ears. I reversed out of Marcy’s driveway and rode my way onto the highway.

As I cruised on to no place in particular, I felt happy. I was truly happy. Finally, I was on my way to being whole again. Valentine’s Day 2013 was the day I got back my Ginger, the one that I couldn’t let get away.

A Birthday Visit

A Birthday Visit

By RHAli

My heart ached as I approached the entrance that evening. The wide metal gates towered ominously above, making me succumb to feeling insignificant. I was a lone visitor to this place. I visited often, but today was different. It was her birthday.

I gripped the bouquet of pink roses which were her favourite and I strategically placed one foot in front each other until I got to my destination. I stood transfixed for a while, my gaze held by the sunset, closing the day.

I remembered evenings when we used to sit atop the roof of our apartment building and watch days diminish together. That was the home of most of our laughs but there were also the times she would comfort me, when I felt all alone in the world. Both my parents gave me up when I was a baby. She was always there, supporting me through all my trials as a child. We planned to get a real house in the city when I finished school. She had promised that we would start a new life and everything would be different. Memories of her engulfed me.

Birds flew across the sky, breaking through my reverie. I finally looked down, Aunt Cara’s grave stood ominously in my wake. I absentmindedly tucked away some loose hair behind my ear. I stooped, placing the bouquet on the hard stone.

A single tear escaped the safe haven of my eyes.

“Happy Birthday Aunt Cara. I love you,” I whispered into nothingness. 

__End__

This short story was created as an entry to the String-of-10 FIVE Flash Fiction Contest. See link http://www.everydayfiction.com/flashfictionblog/string-of-10-five-flash-fiction-contest-begins-now/

Wire Mesh

Wire Mesh

By RHAli

So there I was, standing in my school hallway, with all my books in hand. My satchel bag was slung across my shoulder holding my laptop and notes. The hall was bustling with its usual activity but I didn’t really notice. I think that was one of the days where I didn’t really care too much about anything. I just stood there for a long while, trying to figure out why I was even there. It’s not that I don’t remember what my degree was, or which class I had at what time, rather it was more than that. It was me seeking my purpose and reason behind doing this degree. I was pursuing my LLB degree at the best University in my country. I had gotten my acceptance letter in the midst of some of my other friends getting declined. They wanted it so much more than I did at the time. I felt guilty for having taken up a space that would be much more valued had it been given to one of them. Everything happens for a reason right? So I got over that hurdle and pursued my degree for the first year without complaint. I fell in love with it. It gave me hope and a purpose. Justice- justice was my purpose.

On the eve of my second year in this three year adventure, I began seriously questioning why I was doing this degree again. Maybe it was just to prove to all those people that I am worth something and that I can and will be a good lawyer. Maybe. However what I realized is that you can’t just get up one day and say that you’re going to be good at something. You need to persevere. You need to want it, and want it so bad that absolutely nothing could phase you. Not even those remarks from your uncles who ask if you’re sure you won’t cry in front of the judges in court. Not even those who say that you can’t handle the work load — that it’s too much; and absolutely not those who say that you’re not smart enough.

While I am aware of these thing, I can’t help but question myself and my abilities. There are those who could formulate their arguments so flawlessly. Those who aren’t afraid to speak up. Those who voice their opinions. I want to be like them, but something holds me back. I question whether I’m good enough, whether my views even make sense. I wonder how they do it so effortlessly. I wish I could do that as well.

While I stood there thinking all this through, something caught my attention through the spacing in the walls in the grass beyond the building. I dashed to see what it was. There were four little puppies scuttling about, enjoying the lushness of the grass. I peered around for their mother who was no doubt somewhere keeping a watchful eye on them. She lay serenely on part of the sidewalk, her focus on her little cubs. There was a wire mesh separating the different types of flowers. The puppies had the brilliant idea to jump into the patch of purple Campanulas. Three of the brown and white puppies effectively maneuvered their way over. The last puppy remained, peering at his brothers and sisters on the other side. He just stood there, stricken in his pose. The other three kept making what I assumed to be encouraging sounds for him to jump over like the rest had. To take that risk and to join them on the other side.

I was totally intrigued now and half of me wanted to just go pick up the puppy and place him with his siblings. I resisted. I wanted to observe what would happen. Maybe he would just find it too difficult and give up. Or maybe his siblings would jump over again and stay with him on the safe side.

The little puppy paced the small length of the fence. It’s mother was looking on calmly, throwing her occasionally bark and them. I decided that I would call the timid puppy Timmy. So I watched Timmy for a few more seconds, while he purred and jabbed at the wire mesh and then I had enough. It was painful to see how he was struggling to get over the mesh while all his siblings had no problems doing it.

I began walking closer to the scene knowing exactly what I was going to do. I saw no need for Timmy to suffer like that and I was going to pick him up and place him with the rest. He would be happier that way.

However, before I could even reach them, Timmy did the most amazing thing and I stopped in my tracks. He jumped over! He just took a leap of faith and jumped! He landed crouched close to the ground and stayed there for a few seconds. When he realized that he was okay, he straightened up and stood proud on all fours. His siblings were barking their congratulations at him. I felt so proud of him and how he over came his fear. All four puppies began jumping to and fro over the mesh.

Just like how Timmy overcame his fear, and jumped over the mesh, I had renewed hope that day that I could also jump over my hurdles and become a great lawyer. I could get over all the wire meshes I wanted to. All I needed to do was to trust myself, and take a leap of faith!

My friend Anthony was at my side the , “Hey, what are you up to?”
“Oh nothing, I’m just gonna conquer the world, one wire mesh at a time!” I confidently stated.
“Huh?” was Anthony’s reply

I smiled as I led the way to our next class, thinking about my new friend, Timmy.

Uncontrollable

Uncontrollable

Uncontrollable

A Flash Fiction

By RHAli

6/11/12

Because, right then, the woods fell to her will.

She could feel the power building up inside her pushing for its release. Her palms tingled with that unfamiliar surge of power. She closed her eyes, seeing it like the last time — the first time. She knew she had to stop it, but it had become too late. She knew she would not be able to control her mind when this was complete.

Only one thing came to mind, “Darian run!” And then she viewed everything as ‘her’.

The grass, the leaves, the trees, all the creatures calling this place home; she felt them all. There was a fire within her, growing ever so steadily. It started from the tips of her toes creeping up her legs and filling her with courage, hope, and anxiety for what was to come. She crooned, and tamed the flames to where she wanted them to go – to her palms. This is what she remembered; just like the last time.

All this energy, and for one purpose; she was going to kill him.

As she opened her eyes, she met Darian’s gaze. She knew what she had to do.

Her hair now flaming red, was blowing miraculously in the windless clearing. Her veins pulsated with the urge to attack. She cupped her hands at her sides, embracing the flames in her palms. Adara watched her palms anxiously. Her attitude to them was almost like a child’s to her favourite doll; love, acceptance, a will not to part. Her confidence surmounted to its peek and her red lips parted in a huge smile.

She was on fire.

With one effortless flow, she glided her right arm back, and trusted forward, sending fiery nodules directly at Darian. He lurched aside at a nanosecond before it hit him, leaving an ungraceful gash in the earth beside him. He was on his side now, an awestruck expression plastered to his face.

He peered up at her. Searching her eyes, for anything – anything that could explain what was happening. Her cold stare was all he found. Her soul was hidden in a deep place somewhere within her. He could not recognize this creature she had become. He could not understand it. Believing that things were starting to retreat to normalcy between them, he had invited her to a picnic in the clearing that day in a hope of getting back to the place they once were. Never did he think she would be attacking him like this. He looked at her.

She was as graceful as a ballet dancer, as strong as the largest diamond and as beautiful as a sunset near the sea. Adara was the epitome of everything good in Darain’s world. At least he believed her to be.

She moved towards him slowly, stopping an arm length’s away. She stood above, regarding him. Her usual grey eyes were still nowhere to be found, replaced by an uncanny red which made it look as though her soul was on fire. He wondered if that’s how he would look if it was possible for him to express how she made him feel. His soul definitely was on fire for her. But he knew that this was not the same thing, this was not a fire for him, but a fire to kill him. For the first time he became terrified of her. In desperation, he said her name, “Adara”.

Her eyebrows shot up and her eyes widened. For an instant he thought he saw his Adara. All too suddenly, her face hardened again, as she began the onslaught of attacks on her prey. She sent nodules after nodules hurling at him. It was a miracle that he managed to evade all of them so far. The earth was scorched with the trails of her attack.

He got to his feet and pelted away from her. She seemed effortless in her chase after him. It took all of half a minute to trap him within her palms. She had locked both her palms at his sides, so that they were face to face, chest to chest.

The heat emanated from her as though she was an ember herself. It scorched into him like a spilth of light, out of the crashing of a myriad stars. The cloth separating him from her direct touch was smouldering, never to be seen again. Even her breath was like steam. He screamed out in desperation and she chuckled. He could hear the sizzle of smoke where she was touching him. She released him, only to grab hold of him again on his forearms.

His cry of agony would have been heard for miles he was sure. Within his very own inferno he realized that he would do anything for this girl. It burned as if all the fires of the universe had laid claim upon his flesh and stung the soul behind it as with a serpent’s tongue.

When he was sure that he could no longer withstand this attack, he mustered whatever will he had left, and said, “Adara I love you,” and he dipped out of consciousness.

Adara was taken aback. His words washed over her fire and her flames dispersed. She was Adara again. She let him go and he fell to the earth with a thud. Her destructive palms were no more, and they cupped themselves over her mouth in disgust at what she had done.

“DARIAN!” she bellowed into the atmosphere.

Morning Drama

Morning Drama

Morning drama – A Flash Fiction

By RHAli & AC

 

The pain was there, I wish I could clutch my heart, and rip it out, but all I could do was clench my hand and rest it on my bosom. I turned in bed for half hour more and then I couldn’t take it, I opened my eyes. The dark grey gloom of the morning greeted me. It was the second day rain had been falling continuously. I sighed, seems like even the universe was mourning with me. Except I wanted the sun to shine, if only he knew. I hissed. I’m better than this, I don’t need this. I could survive on my own. I placed my two feet over the side of my bed and pushed myself up, I almost collapsed with the effort. Sigh. My hair cascaded down the side of my shoulders. That reminds me, it needed washing. I walked over to the window, my woollen PJs still provided no warmth from the icy air of the air condition and despite it all, I smiled. Today I was going to make myself look pretty. I twirled on my toes, away from the window in a bit of excitement, and sat by the dressing table.

I eyed myself curiously. In the mirror was someone I could hardly recognize anymore. Her eyes were puffy and swollen, no longer red but you could tell she was crying–either that or she had a really bad cold. Her face was drawn out. Under her eyes were dark, large dark circles. Her lips made an effortlessly perfect upside down smile. Her hair fell flat to the sides of her head and was as lifeless and dull as she looked.

I tore my eyes away.

I didn’t want to see her anymore. She was ugly.

I took a deep breath, stood up, and headed for the shower. I shampooed, conditioned and repeated with my lavender set. I scrubbed and scrubbed every inch of me. It was as though I was trying to wash away all the unhappy thoughts. Eventually I was satisfied. I wrapped myself in my russet towel and sauntered to my closet. What shall I wear today?

My hand caressed the rack of clothes as I pondered. My eyes fell back and forth on the entire rack but nothing appeased me.

I turned to the right.

Aha! I pulled out my pink and black striped long sleeved top and my skinny black jeans. I slipped into the chosen items. It was time to face the girl in the mirror again.

I had the sudden urge to make up my bed. I placed every pillow precisely in its place and tucked the comforter in at all the right places. I even added the throw cushions that usually sat on my day bed. I was tempted to start folding the pile of clothes I had been avoiding for days but I glanced at the clock. It was already 7:45 am and I was going to be late!

With a sigh I slumped down on the chair at my dressing table, the second time for the morning. The same girl stared blankly at me. I sighed again and got to work.

Starting with a moisturizer, then a little concealer under the eyes. I powered up with that cute little brush. I also brushed on some blush to give my face that healthy glow that it was lacking naturally. The eyeliner and mascara came next, a little extra this morning. It burned, but I put it anyway, that feeling would go away. Then it came to my lips. I really dislike lipstick so I put some balm and then gloss. I eyed myself again. I looked better, but not quite good enough. I took a tissue, wiped out the gloss from my lips, took one of the lipsticks my mother gave me and dabbed it on. There. That was fine.

Then to my hair. It was all tangled and it took great patience to comb it through. I gave it a quick blow dry, parted it haphazardly and tied it in a quick bun to get the curls to stick.

I gathered all my books and tossed them into my bag. I picked up my bottle of Chanel perfume, puffed it into the air and stepped into its mist.

As I ran to the front door, I pulled the band from my hair and shook it out. One glance in the mirror told me I was ready.

I could do this.

I stepped out into the morning and a ray of sunlight beamed down on me.

____

The Village

The Village

By R.H.Ali

 

As she sat in her uncle’s blue pick-up truck driving with him down the main street of the village where her grandparents lived, Mary-Jane felt like she was in another country. Children gleefully played in all directions bustling with different activities. Some played hide and seek, others darted about expeditiously while playing catch. Mary rolled down the window to get a better look. Mounds of sand were scattered in between swings and slides where Blue Jays perched chirping sweet melodies. Elderly women stood at the sides of roads selling home-made cakes, pies and drinks. The aroma of it all made Mary’s mouth water. She stuck her head out the truck to get a better whiff of the goodies, much to her uncle’s dismay. She noticed that young and old alike, were enjoying themselves on that wonderful summer day. Mary had often heard people refer to the sun as ‘King Sun,’ and she always wondered why. Now, in this village, without all the tall buildings blocking her view, she understood. The sun was majestic, bright and beautiful; really a King Sun. It had come out in all its glory and in the distance she could see the progression of a football match by the youthful boys. Gathered to the side, girls chuckled and gossiped freely as they cheered on their favourite player. Their excitement was contagious and she found herself smiling from ear to ear as she watched.A clatter of metal caught her attention and she jerked her head around to see what the commotion was about. Middle-aged men were clustered around a tangled mess of steel working assiduously directly opposite the field. An inquiry to her uncle revealed that the village was building a community centre which would be the hub of activity in the village. Mary thought that was a great idea. However this didn’t hold her attention for long as a surge of exhilaration engulfed her as wild cheers emanated from the football field. Shrieks of delight filled the environs from the winning team. Even the other team was bubbling over with enthusiasm, congratulating their opponents. Uncle Timmy divulged that the winning team, ‘Warriors’ usually always win their games. It was great for Mary to see such sportsmanship, something she was unaccustomed to in the city. As they passed the field, Mary looked to the sky. Various birds flew over the paradise creating a beautiful kaleidoscopic scene. The clouds wisped and parted in harmony. The deep sea-blue of the sky played peek-a-boo through the cotton candy clouds. She noticed that dogs and cats ran about playfully as turquoise flowers and primroses untangled themselves. As the truck turned the corner, Mary viewed peaceful scenes of cows knee high in shallow sections of a stream and sheep grazing on the flower-dotted hillsides. Mary was utterly dumbfounded by the serenity of this place. Mary had always lived in the hustle and bustle of the city life and since her grandparents always visited in the city, it was her first time in the village. Accustomed to cars bumper to bumper and horns tooting everywhere, she was taken aback to see the amount of pedestrians and the way everyone knew each other and got along so well. It was beyond Mary-Jane’s wildest imagination that people especially youths would spend their Saturdays in the open fresh air rather than at the mall or movies. Huge sycamore trees stood rooted to the edges of the road spreading shelter all around it. Families started gathering under them for picnics. Her face held a constant smile as she cruised by. Dogs caught Frisbees that their owners threw for them while others tried to seal bits of food from picnic mats. Mary chuckled and pointed it out to Uncle Timmy. He laughed as well. She turned he attention to her uncle for a moment. She had not seen him in months, until he came to pick her up of course. From her observation he looked thinner from the last time she saw him. She wondered if it was because of stress. Since Aunt Krissy died in the accident she hadn’t ever seen him laugh his belly laugh again. He must really miss her. His eyes were filled with sadness but he tried to mask it with a big smile that he plastered on his face. Mary wondered about her little cousin, Joe, she was excited to see him. Uncle Timmy and Joe lived with her grandparents since Aunty Krissy’s accident. Uncle Timmy could not stand to live in the cabin without her. Mary wondered if he sold it or just left it alone; she was afraid to ask. Her uncle caught her staring at him and laughingly asked her what was wrong. She brushed it off and he turned into another street and pointed at her grandparent’s cottage house in the distance. Mary could not contain her excitement. She had finally reached. She stared out the window and absorbed the scene that met her astonished eye. Her emotions ran a constant loop as she peered out. She had seen this place in pictures, but no picture however great the photographer was could do this place justice. It was just the perfect little thing. The house was placed in what seemed to be the centre of the entire piece of land. Since her grandparent’s house was the last house on the street, you could see it as soon as you turned the corner. On the left side, as far as she could see, there was lush green grass. Animals were grazing in their pastures and Mary wondered who took care of them, and if she could help. On the right side of the house, there were rows and rows of various types of trees, and she was sure, spices of all kinds. Her grandmother loved spices. As Uncle Timmy drove closer to the house she noticed her grandparents opening their front door. She did not even wait for her uncle to completely stop the truck; she jumped out and ran into her grandparent’s arms. She felt like a child again.