written by dan
Good day/night to you all! this is just a small little short story-thing, but even so I hope it's enjoyable. Please enjoy!
The only memories I have of them from when I was just a small child. He would rock back and forth contently in that old wooden chair on the porch, whereas she would sit on the chair swing smoking that big pipe of hers.
I would be here and there and everywhere, a regular hyperactive kid in a summer world of endless possibilities. There were the forest groves just beyond the tilled soil, and a little babbling stream full of crawdads and little minnows and, if you were lucky, bullfrog tadpoles. Of course, being a little bit on the spoiled side, I'd just naturally thought I was big stuff for having this cool book, or that new toy. One day I had apparently gloated about this or that at the school playground and the school office had called them as a result of it.
I had worried the rest of the day what my punishment would be, and I dawdled on the way to the bus, and then from the bus stop down the long dusty road to the house, a small squat building that seemed to lean slightly to the left in a strong wind.
"Laura! Fill that bucket with water and bring it here!" She barked from her regular spot on the front porch as soon as she saw me dragging my feet through the dirt and gravel, jerking her arthritic hand to where the rusted pails rested just under the sagging porch. She had always be a disagreeable sort of woman, though I suppose this time an harsh words were warranted.
It was full of rain water, they all were, really, but when I had edged to one of the lighter ones, she jerked her hand to the largest one. Grabbing both edges of it, I pulled and dragged it up the creaking wooden stairs and finally dropped it in front of her.
As soon as I let go of the sides, she grabbed my hand by the wrist. "You think you're pretty hot-stuff, don't ya? If you think your so important, stick that little hot hand in that water and see if it leaves any hole."
That was when he spoke up in that soft quiet voice of his, worn by age. "You forget..." He paused suddenly. Him speaking had always seemed like a momentous occasion, so silence reigned, so both of us were looking at him, I with hope, her with a downward frown. He cleared his throat and continued, "You forget dear, it might not leave a hole... But it will cause the water to ripple throughout the bucket..."
Thus, my meager little story... I would appreciate any reviews, but since this story isn't going to continue, I suppose reviews aren't really necessary? haha In either case, thank you for reading. (low bow)