I want to see what y’all can come up with.
“And what are you doing now a days, Kylie?”
The question came from our next door neighbor, Mrs. Goodman. She moved in month three weeks ago and Mom they needed to be friends. It was something about pottery and robots.
When she asked, the other two guests turn their attention to me. It was suppose to be some sort of book club but they never spoke about books. They talked about the armor suits their husbands were working on. Sometimes they talked about dinning in space and how there was a ten year wait line. Today they were talking about children.
I swallowed the last mouthful of my lemon cake. Like always, it scratched my throat on my way down. Why was it that every time I ate lemon cake, the same conversation returned.
“I’m working at a cake shop,” I told her. “Business is good. Very busy.”
“That’s good to hear,” Ms. Lawman supplied. “My Joshy started up his tenth business just last week. I’m sure you girls have seen him on TV.”
Mrs. Goodman rolled her eyes and took a sip of her pink lemonade. “Good for you Helen,” she said. “My daughter is too busy running a tourist empire to appear on TV.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Ms. Lawman shot back. “Doesn’t that mean she’s no good at management? If she can’t make time then there’s obviously something wrong.”
The way Mrs. Goodman looked I was glad there was a coffee table between them and they were sitting on opposite sides of it.
“Wasn’t your brother on TV?” Mrs. Taylor asked me, quickly interrupting. “You look so much like him. I’m sure you’re trying to follow in his footsteps.”
I cleared my throat. Why did she have to bring me in to this? “Um, not really,” I told her. “I like baking. It’s nice and quiet.”
Mrs. Taylor frowned. “What about your sister?”
“Rebecca like working on her own,” I told her. “Plus it gets too cold in her lab and she’s anti-social.”
Mrs. Taylor’s frown deepened. “Surely the twins,” she began.
“Kylie is very good to me,” Mom said walking into the living room. “The others don’t have much time to visit. Kylie visits all the time. She goes shopping with me and helps me bake.”
I gave a grateful smile to my Mom.
“That’s nice dear,” Ms. Lawman piped up. “All our children are off somewhere saving lives, helping society, they make the true sacrifices.”
If I wanted shade, I would have sat outside. However, my mom’s smile never wavered.
“That’s true,” she said, “but at least I’m not lonely and my home isn’t empty.”
I hid my smile behind an empty glass of lemonade. Ms. Lawman shifted in her seat.
“I’m going to get more cake,” I muttered and bolted out of there.
Regardless if my siblings were more successful than I was, at least I had Mom. They didn’t get to eat her dishes like I did.
I’m going to leave this right here.
Long ago, the legendary sword Excalibur was melted down and lost to history. The mythical’s blade steel ended up in your butter knife, with all its magical purposes.
“Honey, can you wash those silverware?” my mom called out from the kitchen. “I just got them from a garage sale. Margaret down the street is selling all her antiques.
“Apparently, she got them from her mother-in-law who lives . . . somewhere in Europe. They’re suppose to be ‘magical’ and – Jessica, are you there?”
“Yeah?” I called out the living room.
“Don’t you hear me talking to you?”
“I heard.”
“Then why haven’t you washed the silverware? What are you doing?”
“Learning how to escape quicksand.”
“Hurry up and wash them.”
“Alright, alright.”
Sighing, I peeled myself off the leather couch and headed into the kitchen. My mom was just closing the pantry door when I entered.
“Your Aunt Lucy is coming tonight. I want downstairs spotless. Tell Carmen to help you.”
“We’re having a bar-b-que. We’re not going to be inside.”
My mom gave me a look. “Why don’t you ever do anything I ask? My hair is going to turn green because of you.”
“Never mind,” I muttered.
I turned to the counter. There weren’t any silverware. I looked at the dinning table. Nothing there either.
“Mom, where are they?”
She clicked her tongue. “Look for them,” she said before heading out the kitchen.
I went through a couple of drawers before finally finding the ‘new’ silverware in a grocery bag on top of the fridge. Opened the bag and looked inside. They looked like regular silverware to me. What’s so antique about them?
Oh well. I took the bag over to the sink and dropped them in the sink.
‘Ow. Watch it.’
Frowning, I looked over my shoulder.
“Mom?”
No reply.
“I must be hearing things,” I muttered.
Grabbing the sponge, I squirt some dish detergent on it and picked up a butter knife. It was a simple butter knife. There wasn’t anything strange or abnormal about it but the metal was warm. There were strange markings on the handle but I couldn’t tell what they said.
“Antique? Yeah. Right. Couldn’t she get some silverware that wasn’t scratched? Aunt Lucy is going be throwing some shade tonight.”
I soaked the sponge and started scrubbing.
‘You’re scratching me. Stop it.’
I whipped around. The heck?
“Carmen, is that you?”
My sister didn’t reply.
“Mom?”
She didn’t answer.
No one else should be home. And it couldn’t be the television either. I had that on mute. Was my house haunted? I looked down at the butter knife.
Maybe I was a werewolf and allergic to silver and now I was hearing things. Hmm, could be.
“Get a hold of yourself Jessica. Ghosts don’t exist and you’re not a werewolf.”
‘Could have fooled me.’
Yelping, I dropped the knife and ran out the kitchen straight into Carmen. With an ‘oof’ we crumbled to the floor.
“What the heck?” she groaned.
“Carmen, our kitchen is haunted.”
I rushed to my feet and pulled her up.
“Look, you have to listen.” I grabbed her arm and pulled her into the kitchen.
Carmen yanked her arm away. “Are you sleep walking?”
“Don’t you hear it? There’s a voice.”
“Yeah, yours and it’s annoying.”
‘Hey! You dropped me. Pick me up.’
“Did you hear that?” I asked. ‘The voice spoke.”
My sister gave a glare. “Dude, you’re weird.”
Before I could stop her, she walked out.
‘There’s some moldy cheese down here. How long do I have to stay here?’
My gaze fell on the butter knife. It was wedge between the floor and the counter. Could it be . . .? Warily, I picked up the knife.
‘Finally,’ the voice said. ‘You really need to clean underneath there. How haven’t you died yet? It’s so unsanitary.’
I stared at the knife for a long time. Yeah, this was a dream. I opened a drawer, dropped the butter knife, and closed it.
‘Hey! Hey! It’s dark. Don’t leave me in the dark! I hate the dark. Do you realize how long I was stuck in stone? Hey!’
I quickly scrubbed the rest of the silverware and closed the faucet. This was all a dream. I was going to ignore the voice and sit back down. When I woke up again, there would be no voice.
‘Hey! Hey!’
“There would be no voice.”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“Then stop looking.”
“Jasmine, this is no time for you to pretend you’re fine.”
“I’m not pretending.”
Anna sighed and joined Jasmine by the kitchen sink. “Girl, come on. You were vomiting this morning. Do you really think I wouldn’t notice?”
“It’s nothing to worry about.” Jasmine grabbed the only cup in the sink and started washing it.
“I know this competition is really important to you – ”
“Yeah, it is.”
“-but that doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice your health. I’m sure your parents will underst-”
Jasmine swirled around. “No, they won’t. Okay? I can’t just drop out. Just don’t worry about it. Go back to your room and ignore everyone like you usually do.”
Anna opened her mouth then closed it. “Fine,” she forced out. Her throat tightened.
She walked up to Jasmine and touched her arm. “But if you feel sick or anything, call me. I’ll come pick you up.”
Jasmine shrugged her hand off. “Don’t bother. I won’t feel sick.”
Dabbling in the Art of Writing 