Category Archives: rsg

Kicked-Uped Kid

Below is another short story I wrote based on a writing prompt given to me from my friend.

Prompt: Write about a kid who’s a tourist, but told from the shoe’s perspective.

With a rumbling thud, we finally land. Everyone unstraps themselves from their seats as the bay doors open. It seems that everyone else on this ship got ready to leave before we did. We are still tucked under our cubbyhole, as our family of inserters is still strapped in. They’re not even packed.

Toby, our master inserter, throws a fit, adding another to his many during the expedition to get to this newly terraformed planet Dentalia. His Momma and Poppa finally unstrap him, letting him run free. He runs for us, as fast as his little feet can carry him. Toby falls to his knees and crawls into the tiny cubbyhole and pulls us out. He straps us on one at a time, me first, Righty, then my younger sister, Samantha. She technically came off of the assembly line before I did, but my sole was stitched together first. I will always have that on her.

His parents want to help, but Toby bats them away. He’s a big boy now, or so he tells them, all 3 years and a few months of him. His toes stretch and wiggle inside of me, feeling my familiar cavity and finally settle in. I tighten around his foot, securing our familiar bond. Samantha does the same. Now we’re ready.

One leg, then two, Toby is finally up. He jumps up and down, clamors to his parents and pulls on them.
Let’s go! Come on, let’s go!

Patience honey is all Momma manages to say as she continues on with Poppa.

Should we pack everything?

Let’s pack what we need right now.

We don’t even know what’s out there. Maybe…

Toby’s attention drifts away to what’s beyond the bay doors. The brightness of the outside world beckons him. What adventures await us outside? He taps Samantha on the metal-grated bay floor, up-down up-down up-down. To say he’s impatient is an understatement and I totally understand why. I’m excited too.

The Sisyphus started its expedition to Dentalia five years ago. It was aboard this ship that Momma and Poppa met. For his entire life, the Sisyphus is Toby’s home. The cold gray hardness of the ship has been Toby’s everything. Momma and Poppa would tell him stories and show pictures of their long ago home. There were mythical creatures almost as big as the Sisyphus, and celestial balls that shine and warm us whenever we bathe in their light. Is that waiting for us out there?

Soon we’re led away with Toby’s hand wrapped tightly in his Momma’s. Toby’s feet scuttle Samantha and I along, three of our jumps to one of his parents. Each step brings us closer to the new world. I stepped into it first, the warmth of the closest star shining down on this world, then my sister. We wait until our many eyes finally adjust and then we see it, the world. Even the vast vocabulary of educated adults like Momma and Poppa can’t put into words what beauty lies before us, let alone those from my laced tongue. Gasps of awe are all that we can manage and quite simply, that is enough.

Chasing Strength

Below is a short that I wrote. It’s based on a writing prompt that I had someone give me.

The prompt was: Write about a girl following a balloon in a park.

There she goes/There she goes again/Chasing down my lane…

I escaped from her. I’m freed from her greedy little grasps but there she goes, chasing me down, running, tumbling on the soft patch of turf. She has her eyes on the prize and nothing is going to stop her from getting it. The prize, me. The skinned knees, the scraped shins, the falls that she took from chasing after me had no effect on her. She’s unstoppable.

I was tied to her all morning, all two-feet-eight of her, and then most of the afternoon. I was dragged, sandwiched between doors, thrust into walls, literally abused. She had no respect for me. None. Zero. I was just a plaything to her; a rubber ball with no heart, no feelings, no soul. Maybe she’s just too young to see that I am ALL heart, ALL feelings, and ALL soul. I am a spirit in the real world, floating through the ether. To her, I was only a distraction that her parents bought to keep her busy from the arguments that they were having. But now, I’m free.

Her parents call her Sweetie or Baby and sometimes Ruby, but she’s a Bitch or a Cunt in my book. She comes after me with all she can muster. She should die. Maybe, just maybe, if I’m fast enough and if I work the breeze just right I can maneuver my way to the busy street and hopefully she’ll follow. Just maybe I would be doing her a favor, putting her out of her misery, taking her out of the world before her parents start to abuse each other in front of her, divorce, or even the typical murder-suicide. I would be saving her life.

The pounding of her tiny feet echoes behind me as I move my way through the mostly empty park. No one is chasing after her; she’s off on her own. No one is chasing after her. I’ve been floating off for quite some time now and there’s just no one. Where are her parents? Do they just not care? Then I realize, I’m the only thing that she has to hold onto. She has nothing else.

Ruby has lost her parents to the strife that most marriages suffer from. Nothing can save it. That institution that she has known all of her short life will eventually fizzle. I’m all that she has to hold on to and she mistakenly let me go. Now she struggles to grab hold again; to hold on to something that has given her some semblance of joy.

I slow down, dragging my tail, eventually wrapping it up in a small bush and give into her small hands. I can feel it; the tightness of her grip. She doesn’t want to lose anything else. Young Ruby sits there, hugging me and I hear it, the familiar giggles of warmth and joy that anyone at this age should be filled with. I hear it. As she holds me tighter and tighter, I know I am near my end.

Squeezing, tightening, and eventually I go, released into the ether. As my soul dissipates , I finally hear it…cries…