Tag Archive | fictional story

CeCe and a Shore Thing

Multi-colored pendant with accents of blue, green, and ivory

Multi-colored pendant with accents of blue, green, and ivory

 

CeCe wished she knew how to swim.  Then maybe she could join in on all the revelry down by the water.  Instead, the prone-to-sarcasm teenager stayed up by the blankets and umbrellas, listening to her friends’ parents drone on and on about irrelevant topics: “Did you hear that so and so got a new car?” , “I’m thinking of dying my hair blue tomorrow.”, “I don’t believe that cats really have nine lives.”

She grabbed the nearest beach towel and plopped back down on the tattered blanket to tune out the nonsense.  Day one of her week-long vacation hadn’t turned out nearly as interesting as she’d hoped.  Was it too much to ask to just lay on the beach, read a book on the balcony, and play some video games?  Why were her friends insistent on visiting every single shop in this rundown beach town?  If you’ve seen one store filled with broken shells, boat replicas, and corked bottles you’ve seen them all.

“CeCe, you’re not seriously just going to lay there all afternoon are you?”

“I am,” her muffled response.

“Get up.” Monica pulled off the beach towel and tossed it aside.  “Come on.  You don’t have to actually get in the water, you big baby.”

The bad part about having friends who know you so well is that they know you so well.  CeCe glared at her best friend and attempted her most serious of scowls.

“Not working,” Monica retorted with a wave of hand.  “Let’s go.”

“Fine,” CeCe relented.  She rested on her forearms and sighed.  “What?  Am I not moving fast enough for you?”

Monica raised an eyebrow.

“I hate you sometimes.” CeCe brushed the sand off her body, taking a little longer than normal to do so.

“No, you don’t.  You may not like me but I can deal with that.”

CeCe laughed and gave a half-sincere smile.  “Better?”

“Yes.  Okay,” Monica yelled to the girls kicking water at one another down by the shore.  “I’m coming!”  Her I-mean-it glare only made CeCe laugh more.  “Two minutes, Cecelia.”

As her friends played, the shrieks of laughter  extinguished some of CeCe’s annoyance.  She listened to the waves crash against the shore, the seagulls call from above, and children giggle behind her.  She wrung her hands in an attempt to calm her fears, and took a few deep breaths.

“OMG, I saw the funniest video about a dog playing the piano yesterday…”

“Wait for me,” she called. CeCe tossed her hands in the air and ran towards a new adventure.

 

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Katherine and the Opera House

Inspired by The Phantom of the Opera

Inspired by The Phantom of the Opera

Katherine stared at the opera house, a mixture of awe and trepidation keeping her standing in place while the crowd hurried around her.

 On the eve of her twentieth birthday, Katherine stood poised for a new beginning. And what more perfect place than this? She’d prepared herself for this day – she’d be confident, excited, and ready for what the future may hold. Standing here, with the weight of her dreams resting on her tiny shoulders, Katherine doubted her strength.

 “Don’t stand there gawking, child. You resemble those horrible gargoyles.”

 Her grandmother’s inclination to speak her mind stemmed from years of sub servitude in a marriage she never wanted nor embraced. Once her husband died, Katherine’s grandmother made up for all the “Yesses” and “Of course, dears” with forthright and most times unwelcome frankness.

 “And stand up straight,” the elder instructed while primping Katherine’s hair and cloak. “You don’t want to look weak and unsure of yourself.”

 “Yes, Grandmother.”

 “Ah, my beautiful girls,” Katherine’s father declared. He took the arm of both his elder and younger companions, escorting them towards the massive ornate doors.

 Katherine’s amazement only intensified upon entrance inside the centuries old theater. Her mind fluttered with wonder at each new detail noticed. The light bounced from every angle. The intricate wood detailing revealed dedication to the artisan’s craft, and luxurious fabric adorned each piece of furniture.

Her heart pounded in her chest as they ascended the red velour staircase, and she welcomed the myriad of sights and sounds around her. When they paused at the landing, Katherine knew that any lingering fear had evaporated the moment she entered the building so rich with artistic inspiration. She was keenly aware that her companions conversed around her, but she was entranced with the hums that reverberated from nowhere in particular. The energy was palpable, a clear indication that entities long-since passed still remained in a place they once loved.

“Katherine, are you ready?”

 She grinned at her father to calm his worried expression. “Yes, Papa. Absolutely!”

 “Good. You should be after all those years you pleaded with me to bring you here.”

 “This is the best birthday gift I’ve ever received, Papa. Thank you.” She kissed his cheek before following the uniformed attendant to her seat. As she relaxed into the plush high-back chair, Katherine readied herself for a night that would start her on a new journey – one that involved romance, adventure, and music!

 

*These jewelry pieces and the subsequent fictional story were inspired by The Phantom the Opera.  No endorsement from anyone involved with the musical is implied.  Please visit the musical’s website to learn more about this brilliant show!*

Rea’s Family Tree

Rea“What’s the point?”  Rea kept her gaze upon the tree ahead of her.  “Grammy, why put plastic eggs on the branches?  You don’t expect us to climb up and get them anyway.”

Eighteen going on ten, Rea found this entire tradition to be nothing short of ridiculous.  Why couldn’t her family be normal and fill eggs with money and candy?  Instead, for the first week of Spring, her family adorns a tree in honor of their ancestral lineage.

“Why can’t we start using different colors,” she asked.  “I’m sure Granny Kate wouldn’t mind being purple this year.”

Her grandmother smirked and coughed to cover a laugh.

“Blue for the men, pink for the ladies.”

Rea stared at the multitude of eggs on the bottom few branches and pondered aloud.  “I’m surprised you can find any more room up there.  Especially if Justine keeps popping out kid after kid.”

I need to go help your mother in the kitchen.”  Her grandmother kissed her cheek and return inside the one-story rancher. 

This was Rea’s first year as the  “Tree Keeper”, the one to manage the family history records and photos.  It was her task now, as the eldest female in her generation to maintain the list and plan the family reunion.  The worn books were cool to look at; the dresses were so different then and the furniture so detailed.

Even though this was a responsibility of honor and importance, Rea didn’t want it.  After all, she was heading off to college next month.  She didn’t want to be saddled down with tattered books and binders full of cemetery records.  She’d need room for her theatre programs and photo collages of her best friends.  All of this “stuff” would only keep her locked in the lives of people in the past instead of focusing on the ones she loved in the present.

Rea plopped on the wicker chair and stared through the intense sun glare.  “The tree does look beautiful,” she had to admit, “but next year I’m definitely putting a purple egg in Granny’s Kate’s spot.”  She smiled and joined the family that were still there.

 

 

Bridget: Eire She Goes

Bridget Bridget sat on the bench and cried.  Not three hours earlier, she waved goodbye to her parents and grandparents as the ship left County Cork.  She didn’t know what to expect when she arrived in America.  Had no clue whether the photos her aunt and uncle sent were accurate representations.  She was going to care for her young cousins, be their nurse and caretaker.  Her aunt recently got involved in societal organizations while her uncle worked very long hours.  

It didn’t take much convincing for her parents to agree to their daughter emigrating to America.  In fact, they’d have one less mouth to feed, body to clothe, and person to house.  She’d miss them and they her, but this was best for all involved.  Didn’t mean she wasn’t terrified of the choice she’d made.  As she sat alone on the massive ship and stared out at the water, she wondered if she’d chosen correctly.  

“Bridget Keily.”  

The brash male voice stumbled over a last name that was common in Ireland.  It will take some getting used to, she realized.  She clutched tight to her woven satchel and walked toward the stairway.   

“It’s Kelly,” she explained.  

“What?” the man replied, clearly uninterested.  

“Kelly.  It’s pronounce Kell-ey.  Not Keel-ey.”  

He merely looked at her over the rim of his glasses and jotted down a note on his pad of paper.  “This way,” he said.  

Bridget noticed every detail of the damp, cramped stairwell.  Dark and dreary, the light faded more and more with every descent.  The wooden stairs creaked and the boat swayed, causing the young emigrant to grab hold of the cold, metal banister.  

“In here,” he instructed.  He pointed towards a stark, white room filled with cots and medical equipment.  “Hand the woman at the door this,” he said as he put a folded paper in her hand.  “Then, wait your turn until the doctor calls for you.  When you’re done, someone will direct you where to find your luggage and then your room.  Safe travels.”  

And with that he was gone, as distant a sight as the homeland now so far away.  Bridget sensed the emotions building inside of her and shook them away.  She was seventeen years old.  Old enough to get married, according to her grandmother.  Definitely old enough to travel by herself to an unknown land.  “You’re pretty enough,” her grandmother told her before she left.  “You’ll marry someone decent.  Just don’t ruin your reputation before then.”

 Bridget laughed at her grandmother’s “advice”.   “Marry someone decent,” she repeated with a shake of her head.  She walked towards the door and slammed right into a handsome doctor.