Opium for a price

The opium she was soon to inhale would taste much better than Greta’s fattening candy.

Fifteen minutes later, exactly where she wanted to be, Ben grinned and escorted her inside his Substandard establishment.

His eyes had dark circles beneath them but his crooked smile remained the same. “You got money today?”

“Half of it. Thought we could work something out.” When she winked, his smile widened.

“Okay, half. A blowjob then?” He took the money she pulled from her cleavage.

Sofie let loose her best seductive smile. After all, she did need to save her money. “I think we may be on to something.” She reached down and yanked off her boots. It was time to get comfortable. “One bowl first.”

“Coming right up.” Ben looked down at his crotch and laughed.

Excerpt from Naked, She Lies, a novel by C. Dennis-Willingham

 

daily word prompt: Substandard

Tick forward

Papa’s hands, so stiff and cold I could feel my guilt when I touched them.

I could not go with him beneath our Texas soil. Instead, I had to swallow the bitter taste of a life void of his teachings and wisdom.

Hands of a clock that have ticked forward four years.

Emil. Funny how knowing a man since childhood, before the development of my breasts or his facial hair, could lead us in a direction of … What is the word exactly? Love seems too strong yet Lust seems tawdry. What I do know is that Emil Eckhardt is slowing squeezing my heart and expanding it at the same time. Leaving him, even for three months, seems unfathomable to me. How do I go about asking him to help me?

Hands. My own forming into fists, as I figuratively spit on the transplanted shoes of the man who swindled his way into my family and tries to take Papa’s place.

A change of course is overdue.

Excerpt from Naked, She Lies, a novel by C. Dennis-Willingham

 

Lust- daily word prompt

The color of blood

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photo credit

Sofie pulled up the two loose floorboards and reached below into the Shallow crevice. The journal in her hands, the clock’s pendulum lay on the red-velvet front cover. Now it made sense to her, how Meta had scurried around the dark bedroom the night before she left. The traitor had been looking for her journal after all.

Sofie didn’t bother replacing the floorboards but went directly to sit down at the vanity. She stroked the red velvet. Red, the color of blood, seemed everywhere.

Excerpt from Naked, She Lies, by C. D-Willigham

 

Shallow

Tellin’ it like it was

I’ve never been to jail nor do I plan to ever go. Growing up sometimes, I felt like I was in jail just from living under the same roof as Dad. I can’t imagine being all boxed in like that. I’d think the roof was coming down to cover me up.

When I found out about what Sheriff P.V. Hail had done, it made me outright mad. Not because of my Dad, but because of Ike. It wasn’t until Dad’s jail time that I found out about something else that happened to Ike long before.

P.V. had caught Ike staggering around Rotan like a drunk man, which he was. Ike wasn’t hurting anybody. He was just bleeding his lizard on Main Street. Instead of arresting Ike and putting him in the jailhouse to sleep it off, he beat the shit out of him first. I hated hearing that. I hated hearing that anyone could treat my grandfather with such little respect. I think it’s because P.V. suffered from small man’s disease. He was so short, he could have made a good butt doctor.

Dad had been drinking coffee in Rotan’s cafe, trying to sober up a bit before he came home. After the waitress brought him his sugar she said, “I’ll be right back with a spoon.”

“Don’t need no spoon,” Dad said. Then he reached into the back of his britches, brought out his pistol and started stirring his coffee with it.

Needless to say, that waitress called the sheriff. When Dad walked outta that café, P.V. was pointing his own gun straight up at Dad’s forehead.

Dad was smart enough not to put up a fight. Instead he put up his hands and told him where the gun was. P.V. took the gun then took his time, patting him down. Then P.V. got real low like he was checking Dad’s ankles, but he was really getting down out of the line of fire. That’s when Dad noticed one of P.V.’s deputy’s standing behind a truck about a hundred feet away and cross hairing a rifle straight at him. If Dad wanted to, he could have plucked up his gun and killed them both before they’d had time to blink. Instead, Dad just nodded at the deputy and smiled as if to say, “If ya planned on ambushin’ me, ya should’a Hidden yourself a little better.”

Excerpt from No Hill for a Stepper, my father’s story

 

Daily Word Prompt: Hidden

Can’t beat it with an ugly stick

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Cono and his sister, Delma 

At least we are together, Delma and me. It’s just another place that I plan to watch over her. I want to keep her close by, so nobody can snatch her away again. As long as I can do that, it doesn’t make no difference where we are.

The car keeps humming slowly down the highway. I try to sleep but I can’t. Instead, I think about Mr. Ed Rotan and decide right then and there that “Cono, Texas” has a real good ring to it. Cono, Texas won’t just have snow gypsum under the ground and a railroad on top of it. It’ll have oil underground and derricks on the top, pumping night and day. I call them jacks “grasshoppers” because that’s just what they look like when they’re pumping up and down. They’re grasshoppers trying to hop away, but they’re stuck and have to settle for hopping up and down in the same place.

My town will have at least two good cafés that serve T-bone steaks and tea iced in clean tin jars, free to me since it’s my town. I don’t know much about T-bone steaks since one’s never been in my mouth, but I do know about cold iced Tea. A while back, Pa and I went from farmhouse to farmhouse following the thrasher and it was the first time I ever got a swaller of iced tea out of a fruit jar. A couple of them farm ladies knew how to make it real good. But the best was when one of them lady’s had cleaned up an oil can good and shiny. She poured the tea in the can with a bunch of ice and sugar and when I tasted it, it was the coldest and best drink I ever had. Ice is few and far between, sometimes as scarce as food. So when Pa took a sip he said, “Aye God, ye can’t beat that with an ugly stick.”

Excerpt from No Hill for a Stepper

Daily word prompt: Tea

The Stench of Betrayal

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photo credit

Goodbye Beatrice and take the smell of betrayal with you.

Why was it the people who left were the ones Sofie truly cared about? First her own father, then Kat and her brother Timothy. Now Beatrice. If her mother were the one who’d left, she would have danced a jig on top of the Clower Building, looking down from ten-story roof top at the peons on Houston Street.

Sofie took her time walking back to the bordello. Spring, the time of renewal, was now another season of betrayal. The beauty of the pink Mexican Buckeyes and the White Hog Plum trees on her route home were gone. Even the usual Fragrance of Mount Laurel smelled like hot tar beneath revengeful feathers.

Excerpt from my novel, Naked, She Lies

Fragrance– Daily word prompt

What Grandma Says

(I left out some pictures to tickle your imagination)

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Grandma says she visits Mollybird land.

But Grandma is silly.

She plays in the sand.

She hops in a chair,

I see her eyes glisten

She tells me to sit down

and carefully listen.

“There’s a place,” she says, “where

popsicles grow sideways,

where Lollipop trees

sprout only on Sundays.

Where cows milk the garden

The doggy yells, ‘Moo,’

And the carrot pops up

and says, ‘Howdy Do!’

 

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The dragon blows fire

to light up the coals

so miniture rhinos

can climb from their holes.

At lunchtime,

oh, we’re too busy to eat.

We paint with the squirrels

and then take our seats.

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We sit by the ocean

and blow seahorse bubbles

Our thoughts disappear

but our vision, it doubles!

If Tina the Tiger finds you,

don’t worry.

She’ll tickle you fast

then run off in a hurry!

Old Peter Parrot

doesn’t like peace and quiet

He prefers to squawk loudly

and dress like a pirate.

Then, when it’s time,

the Queen steps on her chair,

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and the bicycling frog

is the first to be there.

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Everyone cheers

and why would they not?

She makes them remember

the fun they forgot.

Now, if you don’t believe me,

of course it’s just fine.

But my unicorn’s here

and I must leave on time.

How I get home?

It’s the best thing, no doubt!

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Oh, don’t forget.

If you whistle real loud.

My silly hippo

will float down from the clouds.”

I take hold of the whistle.

I blow super hard.

A hippo? Really?

Will land in her yard?

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© Carolyn Dennis-Willingham, CDW Creations

Lollipop- daily word prompt

Fearful trickles of a memory

Thank God for women like them. Unlike her own mother, the Disastrous woman she had lived with for seventeen years, Miss Fannie and Miss Reba were the mothers she always longed for, And then there was her father, the man who walked out and never returned when she was only a few years old.

The feather comforter provided her warmth. Sofie was safe. But then, why was she so cold? Too cold?

Her heart pounded, gaining in intensity. Moist palms. A forehead collecting beads of sweat.  How can I be cold and hot at the same time? Sofie wanted to yell for Miss Fannie or Miss Reba but her lips wouldn’t move. The only movement came from the image that darted through her mind almost too fast to catch. But she grabbed part of it.

A knock on her front door in Seguin. A girl of fourteen standing behind her mother at the front door. Another scruffy stranger from her past. “Go back to your school work, Sofie. Keep practicing, Sofie.” It was her mother’s voice.

Sofie pulled the covers over her head. Erase the thoughts, Sofie. Erase them! But they entered without permission, without regard. Just like the stranger had.

Excerpt from Naked, She Lies by CD-W

 

Disastrous – daily word prompt

Ashes to Ashes

It was Mother who told me about Gene dying. Dad had found out when he was in town but gave Mother the job of breaking the news to me.

“Cono,” she said, “I got some bad news fer ye.”

I thought that maybe we’d have to move away again, away from Ike. Or that Delma was sick again.

“Yer little friend Gene has died, gone to heaven.”

I remember staring at her for the longest time. I remember going to Uncle Joe’s funeral and hearing about Wort Reynolds going to heaven without a head. But this was different. This was MY friend. This was Gene Davis who was only a year older than me.

“He went to Roby to the hospital ‘cause he had a pain in his side.”

I saw Gene and me playing checkers, riding on his mare, making up stories.

“It was a bad appendix, burst before the doctors could git to it.”

I thought Dad was right about one thing. Doctors were good for nothing’s. Couldn’t fix Dad, couldn’t fix Gene.

“Mother?”

“Yeah?”

“When Uncle Joe died, why’d they say ‘ashes to ashes’?”

“I ain’t real sure, Cono. I think it has te do with the fact that we were born nothin’ and go right on back te bein’ nothin’.”

“So now Gene’s jes’t nothin?” I asked, getting upset that the world was going to pretend he never existed.

“Nah, he’s somethin’ alright. He’s jes’t back to being part of the Texas Soil ’sall.”

“That ain’t so bad, is it?”

“Nothin’ wrong with that.”

“But I don’t get te see him again?”

“Afraid not, Cono. I’m sorry,” she said.

And I still am.

I go into my room and pull out my box of specials. There’s the old lace from a boxing glove, the time when Gene put together that fight for me; my first fight with real gloves.

At school and in front of everybody Mr. Green says, “Cono found out that he’s lost a good friend. His name was Gene Davis and he lived in Rotan. Cono, I just want to tell you how sorry we are.”

I nod my head and look down at my desk.

I don’t quite understand it, doesn’t make no sense whatsoever that Gene is dead. I want to see him again. I want to laugh with him. I want him to pull me behind his mare in the red wagon. I want to beat him at checkers.

Mr. Green has told me I can do anything I want. He says I can. He says he knows I can. So I decide to write Gene a letter, send it up to God Jesus to give to him.

 

daily prompt: Soil

Unhinged

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Sofie was naked, of course, having stripped off her clothing as soon as she returned from the fabric store. She didn’t bother transferring the eggs to a plate. She stood over them, eating from the skillet. Besides there was no one to talk to but herself and, right now, the way she was feeling, it was good enough.

Perhaps it was the opium coursing through her that made them so beautiful. Little fried eggs showing up like new suns, waiting to be devoured. Her fork pierced the middle, the yellow sunrays spreading throughout the pan like a new day. The sight was so fascinating; she hesitated before taking a bite. But yes, eat the new day, Savor and enjoy. The egg slid down her eager throat. Taking the remaining butter from beside the stove, she smeared it on her arms, then her breasts. She was a new egg on a new day.

CD-W

 

Daily post word of the day: Savor