#5MinuteFiction Week 64

What is 5MinuteFiction, you say? It’s an adrenaline-fueled, instant-gratification sort of writing contest. Sound fun? Great! Get in there and get dirty!

The Rules

* You get five minutes to write a piece of prose or poetry in any style or genre

* You must BEGIN your entry with the sentence: It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me.

(Note: The prompt is the word. The picture is for decoration/inspiration.)

* Post your entry as a comment to this post.

I’ll close the contest at 1:45. That gives you 5 minutes to write and ten to accommodate the vagaries of relative time, technology, and the fickle internets. If you are confused or just want to whine, feel free to email me.

At the close of the contest, this week’s guest judge, Steve Bornstein@steve_bornstein, author of one of my favorite stories in When the Hero Comes Home, the new anthology from Dragon Moon Press, will nominate five finalists.

I’ll put the nominees in a poll, and at 9:00 EDT tomorrow I’ll close the poll and declare the winner.

For updates, you can subscribe to my RSS Feed, “like” my Facebook Page, or follow me on twitter. Or follow us on twitter with the #5MinuteFiction hashtag.

What’s the prize? Well, usually, nothing. But we all tweet and/or blog about the winner of today’s contest so their fame and fortune will be assured. BUT: As part of my effort to get everyone in the world to read When the Hero Comes Home, I’m giving away a Kindle version of When the Hero Comes Home, to today’s winner!

A Few Notes:

* In the interest of time and formatting, it’s best to type straight into the comment box or notepad. It’s also smart to do a quick highlight and copy before you hit “post” just in case the internets decide to eat your entry. If your entry doesn’t appear right away, email me sometimes comments go into the suspected spam folder and I have to dig them out.

* I reserve the right to remove hate speech or similar but I’m not too picky about the other stuff.

* This is all for fun and self-promotion. So be sure to put your twitter handle at the end of your post and a link to your blog if you have one.

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28 Responses to #5MinuteFiction Week 64

  1. RBWood says:

    It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me.

    The police found me sitting on the couch still holding the gun.

    I remember men screaming, shouting and finally being tossed to the ground. You were crying the whole time.

    Once they’d pulled the gun from my hand and realized I wasn’t resisting, they all put their own guns and tasers away.

    They read me my rights and put me in the back of a patrol car, even making sure I didn’t bang my head on the roof of the vehicle. I thought that was nice of them as I’m both tall and clumsy. I remember you hurling curses at me.

    On the ride to the station, the two cops– not much older than my teenage son—tried to talk to me.

    “Why’d ya do it Carl?”

    “What happened Mr. Smuthers?”

    It was a small town. Everybody knew each other.

    “Well boys, I was working on my next book and the father-in-law just wouldn’t shut up about how I needed to get a real job. It was that disapproving look he kept giving me that finally put me over the edge. I just wanted some peace a quiet.”

    For the next twenty years to life, that’s exactly what I got. Peace and quiet.

    You never even visited me once. And I was okay with it.


  2. It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me.The raw danger, the fear masked as rage and righteousness.

    I looked at you, pale and trembling behind him, but tall and determined. He couldn’t see you but for a moment I couldn’t see anything else. How pale your lips were, pressed together like that. Lips that had always been red and inviting.

    “This is the last time, old man,” I said.

    He laughed, his breath rank and 100 proof.

    “You think you’ll get away with this, boy? The girl belongs to me.”

    Your eyes were sparkling and though my stomach quivered with fear and the certainty that the whole village agreed with him, I couldn’t bear your tears.

    “I don’t know,” I said. “But I’ll never know unless I try.”

    I like to think it was my physical prowess but was probably more the amount of alcohol in him when my first punch laid him out cold. Your hand was cold too, when I grabbed it and we ran together into the darkness. Cold, but strong, and you squeezed my hand as we fled.
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  3. DL Thurston says:

    It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me.

    You needed to die.

    I’ve never seen such a look before pass between parent and child, but he knew, he clearly knew somewhere deep down inside that something had gone horribly wrong. Something had come to this earth, and used you as its vessel. For years people ignored that, pretended they weren’t seeing what was clearly before their faces.

    Or maybe they couldn’t.

    I could. From the start I could see that you were not a person but a thing, coopting the place on earth that should have been occupied by a young boy, living in his stead. What did you do with him, I wonder? Where did he go? Is he anywhere? Is he where you came from?

    And just where is that?

    This was always the end we were building towards, eventually enough people would see through your ruse, this blaspheming disguise that you have used. Did you really think we would let you stay? That we would let you rise, to age, to gain any kind of power.

    Best to end this now. Before…



    Yes, I suppose your father does need to die.

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  4. It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me. The way his eyes shone with pride while his mouth twisted with smug satisfaction. How could I stand for it? How could I ever walk away from that?

    I had only glanced at him while your coffin was lowered into the ground, but it was enough. The look in his eye and on his face was wiped way quickly and replaced with dutiful mouring. But I saw. I saw his relief at your departure.

    Everyone assumed it was the cancer that had finally taken you down, but that glimpse of relief made me sure that he had had something to do with your sudden death.


  5. Miranda says:

    It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me. It convinced me that it was time to let go. I had held onto this pain for so long, not wanting to give it up, thinking by doing so I was giving you up. Giving you up wasn’t an option.

    I had fought for you for so long. Through all the tests, through all the procedures, through all the pain, you were the focus, the goal … and once I had you, I didn’t want to let you go.

    I kept you as long as I could, as long as God allowed, but it was so short, so, so short. The pain of losing you was indescribable and something I don’t think I will ever quite get rid of, but your father is right.

    It’s time to move on, never to forget, but to move on. I’m pregnant again, with what I hope is your little sister. Keep her safe until she is able to join your father and I. You both are so precious to us.

    Momma loves you, sweetheart. I hope to see you again.

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  6. Kit Robertson says:

    It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me. Hamburgers it would be. After all, the day outside practically begged. Beckoned. Implored. Streaked watermelon faces, potato salad to feed an army. And afterwards, watching as the bright of day changed to the inky dark and the fireflies came out, blinking like stars against your faces as you all chased them with your empty pickle jars. Watching you with them, the younger ones.

    Summer was just beginning and I needed it. I needed the slowness of time, the sleeping in, the feeling that just being outside was what would feed my soul. After all, this was your last summer with me and I ached to hold on to what was your childhood.

    Only a few more weeks and you were gone. College and books and money and . . . life awaited you.


  7. It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me. That solemn look he gets when he’s set his mind to something. You know the look I’m talking about. He was determined, and I knew then that the only choice I had was to let him go and loose him forever, or to go with him and risk it all.

    The choice was an easy one. I went with him.

    We… celebrated my choice that evening. Don’t look at me like that, it’s not like you don’t celebrate with your girlfriends.

    But this celebration ended in me being pregnant with you. I wasn’t aware I was pregnant, mind, and neither were the doctors when they put me into cryo-sleep. When I awoke, it was in the ship’s hospital, the first patient to be admitted upon arrival at our new home world, one hundred years after we left Earth.

    Apparently, the cryo-sleep doesn’t stop us from growing and aging, it just slows the process. Therefore, once we arrived at our destination, I had gone from being newly pregnant to being ready to give birth. And give it I did. To you.

    The doctors were shocked and in awe that you and I both survived. My nutrient solution in the cryo-chamber was set for just me, but it somehow fed both me and you, and you matured to full term normally, albeit slowly.

    And that’s the story of your birth. Not only the first baby born in our new home, but the first baby to be born in cryo.

    And it all started with that look in your father’s eyes.

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  8. John Hancock says:

    It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me. Nothing else would have.
    I trusted your father, I worshipped him.
    Since that day you brought me home and I asked for your hand, your father was a rock, a stalwart of security, an anchor that I tied my future to.
    But if anyone else had asked me to jump across that space between two buildings, I would have spit in their face. I’m just stating fact.

    The sky was burning around us, the very oxygen it seemed. The smell of sulphur and creosote was burrowing in my nose. My eyebrows were singed, and I was pretty sure I would never taste food again the same way.

    You were already dead, having flung yourself across and slipped, scrabbling all the way down the brick alley. At least I assumed you were dead.

    I was frozen, unable to move. Then your dad hollered across, “Jim! you have to try!”
    In the wavering heat, I saw his eyes and that convinced me. I went back into the flames and took a run at the building top.

    Leaping across, I saw I was going to be too short.
    Looking up, What I saw in your father’s eyes impaled me.

    It was satisfaction.

    It was then I knew the fireman had set the fire.

    all the way down, I hoped I’d land on you.
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  9. B.C. Young says:

    It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me.

    “Convinced you of what?” Ronny said.

    “That you’re not my Ronny.” Rena said.

    How did she find out? He never thought it could happen.

    “He brought me here, because where I’m from, I died.”

    “He brought you here to replace my Ronny.” A couple tears grouped in her eyes, then rolled down her cheeks. “He didn’t know he’d be saving your life.”

    Ronny’s head bent low. What would she do now? Send him back.

    Rena reached out her hand and ran it through Ronny’s hair. She looked into his eyes a second longer and smiled.

    “But I’ll love you just the same. I just feel awful for your mother on the other side.”

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  10. Christie Fremon says:

    That Glint of Anger

    It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me. He stood defensively, arms folded against his chest — just like the last several times you’d taken me to see him. But this time, I felt defensive, my pulse racing.

    I never should have doubted you. All those times you talked about what we should do to him. All those times you’d mentioned tying him down, making the right incisions, and working on fixing his attitude.

    But it wasn’t until you’d gotten the Pure Emotion II Gel Cap eyes from the Gregory’s Taxidermy and Genealogical Preservation society that he had really come to life.

  11. “It was the look in your fathers eyes that finally convinced me I had to tell you the truth. I mean, it seems obvious to everyone else but you.”

    “Darlin’ I an’t got no clue whatchya jabberin’ about but can you grab me a bruskie while you yammer?” Darnell’s eyes never left the TV screen. The Nascar race had just started, there was no way I was going to get his attention now. I wish his father wasn’t forcing me to tell him. I wish Darnell could stay in his ignorant bliss forever.

    “We have to talk NOW.” I demanded as I reached for the remote and clicked off the TV. The baby started to scream from the other room.

    “What in the hell woman! Now why you gotta go do that for?” He stood from the recliner for the first time all day and lunged for the remote.

    “The baby isn’t yours!” I shouted. I didn’t want for it to all come out in one sentence, but there it was, on the table at last.

    “Woman, of course Bubba is mine. Now I dunno why you are trying to git me to stop watching the races, but this ain’t the way to go about it!”

    “Darnell for God sake how do you not see what every one else notices right away!” he walked to the television and manually turned it back on, settling again in his recliner.

    “I mean Bubba is ASIAN for christ sake!”

    “I don’t care what religion he is, we’ll talk about this later. Now how bout that bruskie?”


  12. “It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me,” Mama said slowly.

    “I don’t understand,” I replied.

    “Child, please…”

    “Mama, you have to tell me. I’m supposed to marry Justin tomorrow. Why shouldn’t I?”

    “Do you love him?”

    “Papa always said, ‘Love ain’t got shit to do with it.'”

    “I know he does, Child, that’s why I’m asking. So you-”

    “So I won’t what Mama, why are you crying?”

    “Because I don’t want you to marry someone you don’t love, Child.”

    “But you said it was the look in papa’s eye that convinced you to marry him?”

    “I did Child. But it wasn’t a look of love. It was a look of cold brutality, and that he would break me, my family, and everything in the world I held dear if I didn’t.”


    “Yes, Child, he broke it all anyway. It’s too late for me, but not for you…”

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  13. Tony Noland says:

    It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me. You were too excited, too happy to notice it. When you told him that we’d gotten married while we were in Vegas, he didn’t respond, but your mom gasped. I remember, because it was that gasp that made you turn to look at her. It made you miss the look he gave me. That look of… triumph.

    I’d had my doubts about you, Will, but I figured you were worth a shot. I knew that if the marriage turned sour, we could just get a divorce in a few years without any fuss.

    But that look in your father’s eyes…

    I knew he’d come after me one day. He’d wait for a time when you were off traveling somewhere and he’d come over, counting on my being a good and faithful wife and daughter-in-law, so good that I’d keep my mouth shut about what would happen.

    I’m sorry, Will. I won’t do that. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it? The way you like to hold onto my wrist when we’re out in public? The rough sex, with the profuse apologies afterward? Apologies don’t hide bruises.

    I wasn’t sure if this whole thing was a mistake, but that look convinced me that it was.

    Goodbye, Will. Don’t try to find me.

    Tony Noland
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  14. Jessica Olin says:

    “It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me. Say what you will about the influence that the government, or media, or even saccharine has over our actions, but I’ve known him for a lot longer than you have and I know he was telling the truth.”

    She looked up at me skeptically. “What if he only thinks it’s the truth? People have been known to crack up, yanno.”

    I sat down next to her and took one of her hands into both of mine. “Sweetie, I…”

    She tore her hand away and gave me a glare that told me I’d never be able to convince her.

    “He embarrassed me, Mom. In front of the whole school. Talking about aliens and being abducted and all that.”

    I stood up and faced away from her, towards our floor to ceiling mirror. I sighed deeply. I had wanted to wait, but no… “Actually, honey, it was more than the look in his eyes.”

    Tara made a noncommittal sound at the back of her throat.

    “Come here, Tara. Now.” I used the tone that meant no arguments.

    She approached and I reached over as if I wanted to stroke her shoulder, but instead I grabbed her little mole and twisted it. Then did the same to the mole behind my ear. “Ouch, Mom, what the…?”

    She grew silent as the image in the mirror resolved into something closer to a science fiction movie.

    In a quiet voice, I explained: “I know that your father has been probed by another species because I have too. As have you. You see, we’re kind of not from here…”

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  15. Brian Cortijo says:

    It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me.

    I wasn’t hungry any more, but he was a big, scary man. Not all the time, mind you, but across the dinner table, he was terrifying.

    Slowly, I picked up the cold metal to defend myself, and sliced down.

    God, I hate Brussels sprouts.


  16. Kaolin says:

    It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me. Not that you were homely, or that the dowry was lacking—but I saw he was offering you out of love, not hate.

    I’m not sure you could recognize that at the time; you wanted to, that was plain in your face, even under your tears, but there’s only so much a young heart can process.

    But the ones that come from love have a much richer taste, are much more trusting and malleable. I try not to abuse that trust, and I like to think that’s why they still come to me. I take the beds price and put it back into the community, making sure your father and sisters prosper; making sure your son is provided for. And you let me live on; in spirit and in flesh. And I let you out, every so many years: unlock that little door in your head, so you can see and speak without me as a filter, when you visit your father, your sisters, your son.

    Just remember what they’ve done for you; and you for them. Love them, but come back when you’re done. Because there always others we must save from the mores of your society; until it grows up.


  17. Leah Petersen commented on Write Me!:

    Time’s up! The finalists will be posted around 3:00pm. Be back!

  18. redshirt6 says:

    Dammit! I missed it. Oh well, here’s my entry just for the sake of posting one.

    “It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me”, the Jenna Morgan said.

    Sarah looked straight back at her, her gaze not wavering at all.
    “I’m not sure what it was you did but you put some kind of fear into that man.”

    Jenna continued glancing up every few minutes at the young woman in front of her while working on the circuitry boards she had pulled out from under the main flight console. The control panel was a shambles. Sarah didn’t see how this ship could possibly be ready for flight any time soon. The triple moons of Tau Zeti Tawn 4A made for some odd openings in the system’s gravity well. A ship could end up grounded for several days at a time so catching the grav-tide was early was important.

    “So what did he do to you?” she asked.
    Sarah didn’t offer any reply. She merely kept making eye contact, her face stern for one so young.

    “I guess he raped you then,” Jenna continued. “Probably had his way with you ‘til he was tired of you and then- you aren’t pregnant are you?” she asked, “’Cause if you are you aren’t flying with me. I won’t have…”
    “I’m not pregnant,” Sarah offered.

    “So you can talk,” Jenna said. She gave Sarah a long evaluating look.

    “And he didn’t rape me, but he tried to,” Sarah continued.

    Sarah’s eyebrows wrinkled. “He tried to?”

    “Yeah, he tried to.”

    “And,” Jenna inquired.

    “I woke him up one night after he had passed out and showed him a vid of me with a boot knife pressed against his balls,” Sarah said.

    Jenna’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh!” she began, “I see, well then I think we’ll get along just fine.”


  19. Jen DeSantis says:

    “It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me to go.” Mom looked out over the water, watching as the waves crashed against the beach in their rhythmic dance. “You have to know I’m doing it for him.”

    When her pale green eyes turned back to hold mine, I lost my hardened resolve. She seemed weak, desperate for my approval. But she was still my mom, stronger-willed than anyone I’d ever met.

    “Of course, Mom,” I hedged. “I know you’d never . . .”

    “Liar,” she said, smiling. “You’ve always been terrible at hiding the truth.”

    “I just thought . . . God, I thought you loved our life, but the first chance you got, you left. Why?”

    “The trailer . . . the road . . . that was for your father. For you. It was the life he wanted for his family. It was never me.”

    “The family wasn’t you?”

    “No, it was us. I need some time for me now that your father isn’t here anymore. He would have wanted that. Can you understand that?”

    I was quiet, trying to come to grips with the new woman sitting in front of me. I barely recognized her in salty air, her hair tied back and her clothes loose on her frame. She was a mix of grief and rebirth.

    “Yes.” I finally admitted. “I think I can.”

    “There’s my girl,” she whispered, squeezing my hand. “There’s my good girl.”


  20. It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me. After all, who would kiss a frog. I mean gross. I wasn’t sure how I would live it down. The shame, but of course, it wasn’t really shame. It was a dare. A stupid dare at a stupid sleepover.

    We’d snuggled around the fire in my room, all pink ruffles and pillows and it was wonderful. We laughed and giggled and ate trifle and confits and it was wonderful. And of course then came the storytelling and the “I nevers” and the “Truth or Dares.”

    Let me be honest, I’ve never been much of an adventurous princess. I didn’t even want to be a damsel-in-distress. Well, maybe when I was little. The distress dresses were very chic. Rips and tears in all the right places. But as I grew older the idea of the dirt and ickyness and just plain waiting to be rescued frankly, bored me.

    Now-a-days people think it was his charm and romance. A talking frog. Nope. The girls did all the talking for him. All the convincing. And all I needed to do was close my eyes and give him one little kiss.

    I almost didn’t, you know. But…he did have such beautiful blue eyes.


  21. Jennifer Brinn says:

    “It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me.” I picked up the book and waited for his reply. I didn’t even pretend to read, just turned pages as I studied his lean face as it twitched from one emotion to another. Fear, anger, pain, anger again. All directed inward, at himself, at the memory of the man he thought he’d known all his life.

    “What do I do now?” He’d settled too quickly on resignation for my tastes, but there it was. No denials or disbelieving. He’d known deep down that it was true. And that was even more dangerous than his rage.

    “What you do with that truth is up to you,” i said in a neutral voice. He had to choose, not me.

    He thought about that. “You said the look in his eyes told you…”

    “Yes.” And here we were.

    “You knew he’d been working with the daemons.”

    “Yes.” I turned another page, waiting.

    “Just before you killed him.”

    “Of course.” The book trembled in my hands. I willed it–them–to stop. One wrong word, and the son follows the father that begat him while soul-tainted.

    The kid just smiled and said, “Good.”

  22. “It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me,” she said, hefting the laundry basket onto her hip, the cast clunking against brown wicker before turning and asking, “Could you hand me those?”

    I picked up the bottles of bleach, fabric softener, and detergent and handed them to her so she could hold them in her good arm. They were heavy, so I had to use both hands, heaving them up, one at a time. The basement laundry area smelled of urine and old peanut butter. I wanted to get away.

    We trudged up the stairs to the noise and chaos of the daytime area. Two kids were sitting on the floor crying next to some Leggos. Their mothers sat nearby, smoking.

    Mom kept trudging ahead of me. Her thick legs in Bermuda shorts were all I could see except the peeling and crayon-scrawled walls on either side of us as we took the next flight up.

    Finally, we arrived at our little room, with its bunk beds and Mom’s big burgundy suitcase and my little soft-sided lavender one with the Hello Kitty patch. I sat on the floor and ran my fingers around and around the patch.

    Mom looked in the mirror for a moment and turned away in disgust. I wanted to make her feel better.

    “You look much better now. They’re yellow instead of red,” I said. “And much less puffy. Plus the doctor said the break would heal fine.”

    “Yeah,” she said. “All those times he said he’d take you. I never believed him till this time. And we just couldn’t let that happen, could we?”

    I ran to her and put my face in her lap, the Bermuda shorts soaking up my tears. She stroked my hair.
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  23. @DRyanLeask

    “It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me.” My mother said.
    “Convinced you of what?” I asked.
    “Convinced me to end his life.” Mother wept, I merely stood staring in disbelief. “Please don’t judge me.
    I had to judge her, I had no choice. What she had done was wrong, illegal, it was murder and I am a cop after all. “Jesus Christ mother, why are you telling me this? Are you hoping that I’ll help you in some way, there’s nothing I can do except what I have to do.”
    She looked up at me with tear filled eyes pleading, “no, you couldn’t, you can’t! For your father’s sake.”
    “My father is dead and you murdered…” I drew out the word, letting her ingest the full meaning of the word, “…him. For my father’s sake I’m bringing you in.”
    “But he was dying, he was in pain, can’t you see I did this for him, for you, for all of us.”
    “No mother, you did it for yourself. Years you spent complaining about having to look after him, trapped in this house looking after his bedpan, caring for bedsores giving him his medication but your forgot. You forgot that he was still a person, a man, MY FATHER! No, all you thought about was getting out from this prison, the prison that his illness put you in well guess what mother, you’ll be in a whole new prison now.” I felt nothing but icy steel as I reached behind me for the cuffs.
    “I beg of you son, please don’t. You’ve lost your father, don’t take away your mother too.” I didn’t respond. She had stopped being my mother the day she murdered my father. She reached for a hug, some last morsel of love, instead of accepting it I took her wrists and shackled her.
    I tuned out her sobs as I escorted her to the car, reading her her rights as she shuffled grimmly from one prison to another.

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  24. B.C. Young says:

    It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me.

    “Convinced you of what?” Ronny said.

    “That you’re not my Ronny.” Rena said.

    How did she find out? He never thought it could happen.

    “He brought me here, because where I’m from, I died.”

    “He brought you here to replace my Ronny.” A couple tears grouped in her eyes, then rolled down her cheeks. “He didn’t know he’d be saving your life.”

    Ronny’s head bent low. What would she do now? Send him back.

    Rena reached out her hand and ran it through Ronny’s hair. She looked into his eyes a second longer and smiled.

    “But I’ll love you just the same. I just feel awful for your mother on the other side.”

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  25. Kaolin says:

    Jesus, talk about in in the nick of time. With a handful of others similarly! 🙂

    Five minutes on an iPhone is awfully stressful! I’m sure it’s not being at the dentist that’s doing that 😉

  26. “It was the look in your father’s eyes that finally convinced me.”
    Rory and Skye were sequestered in the back of the church. Well, “back” if you considered that all the people sitting in the sanctuary were facing away from their hiding place. It was actually the front, if one considered the fact that the room overlooked the dirty street the church faced.
    Rory tried to guage what Skye meant. Her father’s eyes were usualy aimed straight down, as if afraid he’d trip on something. He was a rather tall man, and that kind of accident tended to happen often.
    Weddings and funerals. That was what churches were for. Both were occassions to dress in stiff, starchy fabrics that made her uncomfortable.
    Rory straightened out her petticoats, wishing she could change into pants, but knowing that it was going to be a long day full of people she was supposed to know, but didn’t, coming to her and saying all kinds of things they did or didn’t mean.
    She wished she knew what Skye meant by “The look in your father’s eyes.”
    Skye was crying. Something else people always did in churches.
    The somber music began, and Rory knew if she was going to ask, it had to be now.
    “What did you mean by that… about the look in Daddy’s eyes?”
    Skye wiped the tears away carefully, and straightened her veil.
    Getting down on one knee, carefull not to crush her gown, the woman looked lovingly into her soon-to-be stepdaughter’s eyes.
    “Oh, my darling girl. It was not the way he looked at me that convinced me to marry him…”
    She kissed Rory softly on the forehead.
    “It was the way he looks at you.”

  27. Time’s up! The finalists will be posted around 3:00pm. Be back!

  28. redshirt6 says:

    Jennifer Brinn, do you have a twitter handle? Would love to follow. Nice writing!


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