How the Cookie Crumbles

Life and scribbles on the far side of SIXTY-FIVE


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Sunday Snippets Blog Hop

Jennifer Eaton of http://jennifermeaton.com/sunday-snippets/ has initiated this Critique Blog Hop. Check out the rules and join us. Other submissions are at the bottom of this post.

sunday_snippets2These are the next 250 words from Whatever Will Be. The beginning can be found here . I’ve made some changes as suggested, but will not waste your time by reposting revised content.

~ * ~

A go-cart race; something to look forward to, she thought, heading towards Barney’s for an ice-cream cone. Rosie took a grateful breath of the fishy summer air and closed her eyes. She loved life in this village and had been delighted when her father moved the family from North Bay to Raven Lake. Fishing and swimming were practically at her doorstep, and she’d fallen in love with the eerie and mournful cry of the loons. If only Jerri came to her senses instead of mooning over The Dog.

At the bottom of George Street, Rosie spotted the image of her sister’s delusion draped languidly across the hood of his blue Chevy like a hood ornament. The Dog, hatless but wearing sunglasses, saluted a fellow limping in his direction. Rosie slipped behind a worm-hollowed telephone pole. She held her breath and strained to eavesdrop.

“Well, speak of the devil. Cowboy! Where ya been? What’s going on, eh? The Dog folded his arms and rearranged his limbs on the hood as if posing for a centerfold.

“Hi, Dog, been to Toronto to visit my ma. She’s in hospital, but in good hands.” He swept off his cowboy hat and wiped his brow with the rolled up sleeve of his off-white shirt. Dark hair matted and damp, curled at his neckline. For a short, slight fellow, Cowboy knew how to carry himself large. Favouring his weaker leg, he two-stepped closer to The Dog but didn’t touch the car. The breeze off the lake, within spitting distance, blew an inconsequential breeze now and again, but wasn’t worth notice.

~ * ~

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Sunday Snippet – Critique Blog Hop

Jennifer Eaton of http://jennifermeaton.com/sunday-snippets/ has initiated this Critique Blog Hop. Read the rules and sign up. You’ll find the other submissions at the bottom of this post.

sunday_snippets2

This is the opening from a short story with the working title Whatever Will Be. I did run over the 250-word count because I couldn’t break off at that point. Please pardon the imposition.

~ * ~

Twelve-year old Rosie stamped her feet and hurled the stuffed bear to the floor. “Jerri, grow up.” She gulped air, skinny hands on narrow hips. Her sister glanced up, blowing a whopping pink bubble. The gum stuck to her nose like a deflated parachute. Unperturbed, Jerri picked it off and poked the sticky goop back into her mouth. With a dramatic sigh she flicked another page of her magazine. “You’re gonna catch it—sneaking around again.” Jerri chewed and snapped her gum hard. With a languid hand she patted her drugstore blonde hair.

“He’s so hunky, don’t you think?” She tipped her head towards Rosie. “The way his baby blues fit snug around his hips and those cowboy boots—nobody in this rat’s nest town has anything like them.” Jerri hugged the True Confessions magazine, scrunching its pages to her remarkable teenage chest. “He’s a dreamboat and he’s mine.” She melted into the burgundy sofa, and the mountain of pillows, eyes closed.

“You’re impossible.” Rosie stamped out of the living-room. The door all but ripped off its hinges as she slammed it. Yeah, I’m familiar with The Dog. What a name. Ich.

She sprang up the street towards town, a three-minute stroll with her long legs. “Hey, Willis. Hold up. Whatcha doing?”

“Hi, Rosie. Gotta pick up some nails for my dad. We’re building a go-cart for next Saturday’s race. See ya.” Willis flew like a bullet up the hot mud-packed shoulder, holey runners kicking up dust against his well-patched pants. Rosie blinked startled eyes; her hand in mid-wave before he was gone. “Bye…Willis.”

~  * ~

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