Tag: Writing and editing

I recently posted a link to this story, published by Written Tales, and learned it was not accessible without a subscription to the online journal. The rights to publish the piece have returned to me, so I am sharing the story here.

As soon as his father unlocked the door, Tommy raced through the cottage, his sister close behind: past the fireplace to the deck overlooking the forest, back through the common area to the hallway of bedrooms.

Excited by the bunk beds, Tommy announced, “I want this room.”

“I want that one,” said younger Meagan, pointing to the adjoining room with a double bed.

Marge, their mother, shook her head. “No, that’s Aunt Jean’s room. She’ll be here in the morning. I only have one set of clean linens. Now go get your things.”

Tommy lingered, his eyes on the gift bag his mother held. She placed it on the dresser in Aunt Jean’s room.

“Is it Aunt Jean’s birthday?” he asked.

“No . . . just some toiletries in case she forgets anything.”

Grandma called Aunt Jean her late-life blessing. Even his mother doted on her. Tommy thought she was always kind of grumpy.

The next morning Tommy and Meagan waited anxiously for Aunt Jean to arrive so they could hike to the waterfall. She didn’t show up until almost noon.

“What have you done to your hair?” Marge asked when Jean arrived, hair cut short and dyed bright red.

Jean looked at her and shrugged.

Tommy and Meagan pressed to get going on the hike, but their parents insisted on having lunch first. Eventually they all hiked to the waterfall, where the kids splashed in the bottom pool and the adults took pictures.

Back at the cottage Tommy and Meagan gathered wood with their father for a campfire. Their mother started cooking dinner while Jean watched and drank wine. When Tommy finally convinced his aunt to come outside and sit by their fire, she laid her hand on his arm and said, “Don’t let me fall in.”

Jean slept late the next day. Tommy and Meagan were told to go outside and collect more firewood.

At lunch, Jean volunteered to stay with Tommy and Meagan while their parents went to a nearby dinner theater. “We’ll play that card game the kids like,” Jean said. “We’ll roast hot dogs on sticks over the fire. I can manage that.”

As Marge was about to leave that evening, she hesitated at the door. “Please keep a lid on the drinking.”

Jean gave her a sharp look. Marge flushed, turned, and left.

An hour later the kids and Aunt Jean were playing UNO. Tommy was beginning to get hungry and stood to fetch a bag of chips from the kitchen.

“Hey Tommy,” Jean said, holding out her wine glass, “Fill her up.”

He regarded the glass. He’d been counting. “Mom said you shouldn’t drink too much.”

The corner of Jean’s mouth drew up in a sneer. “Your mother gave up her right to tell me what to do when she gave me to Grandma to raise.”

“UNO!” shouted Meagan.

But Tommy didn’t hear her. His eyes were fixed on his so-called aunt. He reached out his hand and accepted her wine glass.