Thanks, more of this particular story is slowly gestating.
Sci Fi & Fantasy / A Patio to play with.
I tripped my way inside. It was a disaster waiting to happen. Not the entrance, but the red fire engine truck waiting by the entrance. You know the kind, the monster variety … the type kids can crash multiple times over. Yes, I know. Good value and all that. I’m just saying, it’s the kind that when you step on, it carries your weight and there’s the disaster waiting. I mean who leaves a truck by the doorway? And then again there’s the doll, or whatever is left of the doll. I try not to look but morbid fascination drags my face up and there, hanging by a string, from the ceiling fan, a doll’s head is swinging on an axis. “Earth to Barbie, do you read?”
I brace myself against the walls, trying to make it through the hall. Mind the pictures because the whole family’s on the wall, even Jed who’s in prison and we don’t visit often. And there’s that familiar smell. The one which lulls me into a careless step and CRUNCH! Barbie’s body is not going to make it! Saronged as she is in dad’s navy tie. His beret on the floor filled with… plastic soldiers, wrong forces though. I’ve had this conversation a thousand times. Would it make a difference? I’ve now skirted by a smaller red truck, a yellow builder thing and countless Lego houses (yes I’m exaggerating, but who’s counting). There’s an action man caped in a lace doily. Does he know he’s lost his powers?
Then I’m standing and staring, waiting by that same old mirror. When did I have time to mess up my hair? It must have been between truck no.2 and crochet action man. Well, this house would do it to you. It always does to me. Hang coat on ancient oak rack, draped with scarves and that awful knitted hat thing she always wears. I try to lay my briefcase between the china cat figurines. My butt would not be worth dirt it if any of the cats should crash on the floor and not make it. They could be the real family in this house, those figurines –nasty smug things. Quick glance at the mirror again, order restored, at least on my head. Now follow the smell. Wait, when I say follow the smell, I’m not talking about that oven baked thing. We have the oven baked thing but what’s leading me by the nose is a different kind of smell. Dodge my last truck but find freshly painted signs on the wall. Right now I could be a commando but I’m ready for my close up.
“Candis” she shrieks as I walk through the door. It swings behind me as she does a sort of tip toe dance-walk dodging all the obstacles on the floor without even looking. Mama grabs me and pulls me into a hug. I can feel her bony body melding into mine. Her nose doesn’t reach my chin and I can smell smoked maple.
“Candisbe, what on earth are you doing here, why aren’t you at work, did something happen”? Questions pour out of her mouth and her small hand burrows into my armpit to check my temperature. I restrain the urge to crush her hand. All these years and you would think I would get used to it. Her other hand is checking the pressure points on my body and I rush in to the conversation to forestall an accompanying high pitch setting in.
“No mama, we’re having a half day today, training, I told you I would be coming by.”
“No, you said you might be coming by and usually you don’t, when you say that so, what’s wrong my child?”
Nailed to the floor with her reply, I try to dig myself out of this hole. But then mama’s already returning to her table to recover the Bunsen burner, smoking its way through the table. The acrid smell is Ferdinand. Not the cat, nor the neighbour’s son, who the cat is named after. And yes, the over-the-fence conversations after that revelation with the neighbours were not fun; but mama was not to be deterred. I try to skip round over to the table following her path, but I am less successful and have to steady myself from a near fall. Avoid landing on the Lego men whom are likely to do me more damage than I do to them.
Ferdie the teddy is being shorn by flame and I know that mama has some big plans for him next. You should have seen what happened with mine. My doll, her growing hair was never quite the same.
“So why are you here Candis?” mama asks, peering through her goggles. One eye is on the flame and I tell you, the other is fixed on me. As children, we figured out that this was not a test. I try to find a comfortable place in the wall and hug myself to it.
“Mama, you know I’ve been thinking about changing jobs a while now”
“Uh-huh!” She replies.
Ferdie’s just lost an ear. I don’t think she meant it. She says her control is nothing like when she was younger. I’m always glad I wasn’t alive then.
“Well mama, something’s come up”. She says nothing and I know she’s waiting. “I like it and it pays very well”. I want to tell her the rest but I dread her response.
Loomis my nephew runs in. I can see he’s the artist behind the painted signs on the wall. He ignores me and heads straight for mama.
“Mama, Lucy ill not let me play in de lange”.
He looks harassed and I don’t blame him. Lucy, his twin likes to colonise places and then enforce the boundaries relentlessly. Any empire would have done well with her; multinational companies? Hmm! it doesn’t bear thinking.
Mama switches off her burner. She’s always careful around the little ones. But then, she also never burns where her china cats are watching. Make what you can of that. She ruffles Loomis’ hair and whispers something to him. A huge smile erupts on his face and he’s running back through the swinging doors for his sis. Game on!
“I’ve not forgotten you Candis” she says as she pulls the goggles back in place. I can see what’s she’s going for now. Interesting, it’s a full body tat-burn. I didn’t see one of those till I was eleven and she was practising for one of my uncles. I can’t remember whose doll suffered the practice run. Though I must say it looks better on Ferdie than I remember on the doll and possibly my dear uncle also. Anyway, time to jump in with both feet.
“It’s with the Forresters, they’ve offered me a job!”
Teddy’s hand gets it next. It’s dangling and I can see the rest of the foam burning up. You see a tat-burn is supposed to be like a little scorching, enough to scar but not real damage, which is why mama used a burner and not one of her handy blow torches. With tat-burns, a mistake is not good for any post conversation with mama, and if you inadvertently caused that mistake, then a quick exit is advisable. But I’m still here, without a mask, watching her burn things. Surely those fumes can’t be good to breathe in, you are thinking. What fumes? It’s Ferdie and he was never plush. Besides I don’t really suffer from fumes, except that there was this… Well that’s a different story, but I’ll tell you this, we are all used to it; even Loomis and his ambitious twin. My family has a long and distinguished relationship with fire. My grandmother comes from a long line of fire-starters and we all have her genes just not all have the proclivity. This is despite mama’s hopes of course. But then you have to factor in that Papa was a fireman and then again not all of us learnt well from him. Jed is the obvious case in point. I wait and watch while mama is trying to sear Ferdie’s hand, closing up the unplanned amputation. It’s an amazing skill to have, to mend with fire, not just burn away. And I admit that despite my desire to have a normal family without the crazy toys everywhere, I’ve always admired this gift. Though I have to admit, it’s probably not what you are thinking it is. Think blown glass, moulding metal and you might just have an idea.
“You know you could have broken this gently to me” she says.
At this point, it’s wiser to say nothing. You learn this also as a child.
Ramses walks in. he’s got Disco Barbie hanging by a thread and he wants Mama to help him string her up. Yes, disturbing, I know. Believe me when I say that my brother, Jerome, was much worse and Ramses is a fairly diluted copy of him. Mama walks him to the dining room where another ceiling fan waits ready. While she’s out, I try to get my story right. I practice on the collection of brass camels lined up on the window sill like they are trying to break out and I don’t blame them. It’s taken me eight long years to make it this far and now I’m back here again. Mama returns to the room and fixes the eye on me. It feels like having a magnifying monocle fixed on you, searching for the incriminating spot.. She is wearing her blue and maroon apron dress with matching gloves. Even the goggles hanging round her neck match her outfit and I want to tell her that she makes a pretty picture. Yes, it’s a delaying tactic, but it’s not like I’m lying.
“Forresters offer you a job huh? They pay good money, better than where you are?”
“Yes”, I reply.
“Hmm… And the package, fringe benefits, they pay your transport and all that? Have they offered you that?”
“Yes mama, It’s very good mama, very generous”.
“So what’s the problem, why are you trying to blend into my patio wall? Mind you it’s not a bad idea, portraits can be so… so flat, so two dimensional. I could do a cast from your mould and fire it”.
Her excitement is so palpable that I have to convince myself that it’s only humour. So, I guess I should also add that mama is an amateur pyromaniac which is very different from being a fire-starter I might add. She would agree about the amateur bit. First, she’s never done a big job. Second, she’s never been paid. Third, dear grandfather was a rules man and so she’s mostly worked at home, which meant lots of strange people visited, I think.
“How long is the contract” she asks with her unerring eye to find my pressure points.
“Five years, mama” I whisper and then try to hide in an uncooperative wall. It’s like one of those fight scenes where the crowd pushes you back into the ring. I don’t look at her and begin to will the camels out the window so that I can join them. The silence doesn’t last very long.
“They want FIVE years with you, five years and an option to renew” she says. “Five will become ten” she repeats to herself.
She switches the burner off, her gloved hand is now rifling through her hair, twisting the black strands with the greys. I’m not sure why, but the doll house on the shelf behind her is calling to me. It has scorch marks on its sides. Mama, on the other hand, is in full rant about the Forresters and their plan to steal away her family. From the wall, I can tell she doesn’t see this as a mere job offer. Can I blame her? The Forresters moved back to England years ago. It’s where I would work, more importantly where I would live.
The thing is when I was little, about Ramses’ age, there was a little fire incident with my parents; which in itself was strange because my mother did not inherit the genes or anything else much from mama. My uncle Sell once told me that my mother was all of grandfather right down to her love for the rules and marrying a fireman. Well, my parents died in this thing and the social workers came and took the lot of us. My brothers and sister got to stay with some poor farmer in the some countryside place. The farmer didn’t do too well from it. They placed me separately with the Forresters for some reason. I never found out why and the Forresters were happy to have me. They took to me as they described it. I was their first child, their only child and they had me for a pretty long while. That is till mama came to rescue all her grandchildren. I didn’t want to leave, but the Forresters never stood a chance as aliens and not against mama. I still remember my time there. Everything about their home, tidy, in perfect arrangement and you could walk in anywhere and be heard. There was no need for smoke alarms everywhere. Nor were there decapitations of dolls. Teddies made it with their fur intact. Best of all, there no horrible smirking china cats mocking you, threatening to report what you’d done. I didn’t want to leave the Forresters. It was not that I didn’t love mama or my family, but I was there a long time. Later I found out that mama had been looking for me for five years. The Foresters didn’t stand a chance against the romance of a family reunite. I came back home long after the others and have been waiting ever since to leave.
Ramses returns to the kitchen patio. He’s hungry and Mama makes some toast for him. Another silence stretches between us and I can’t help but fixate on the doll house again. There‘s a large crack on the side from when Jerome tried for his version of a tornado. I reckon it’s where Ramses gets the idea of stringing up Barbies and Kens, he likes velocity. Mama lets him get away with it. Everyone gets away with it. Their moms would complain if they could, but my brothers would never allow it. Ramses’ mom wants custody but I don’t think she’s going to get it, even with Mama’s not so clear history with fire lines.
“No” she says.
I want to cave into the wall. I know how much I want to live in a normal world with steady people and no toys. I want to wear suits and carry a briefcase and look like I belong to anonymous faceless people. I want … My eyes stray again to the doll house and I can’t help it, the scorch marks have my attention.
“Three years” she says.
Stunned, I calculate that I will be twenty two by then. Come on! I’ll be able to choose where to live, if I want to travel, be my own person. I can’t take it any longer, I ask about the scorch marks on the doll house. You see, I know it’s not her work.
She beams. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?”
“Yes Mama”, I’m puzzled because I can’t recognise whose work it is. It’s not the boys and the little ones haven’t started yet. And Ramses’ mom is worried, she’d better hope – I can ‘t believe how mama’s capitulation has lost such magnitude with me already. Three years! Three years is better than a solid nothing. I can leave this house behind, but she’s looking at me.
“Candisbe, you really don’t remember”. She turns away when I shake my head and switches on the burner again.
Just like that, the conversation’s done. The patio is not a place to wait about. Grandfather built it for mama to have a place to practice. I don’t remember my parents much, but Mama says when we visited, I used to play on the patio with her. I leave the patio, skirting whatever I can. Some smaller toys just don’t survive my hasty exit. A million things run through my mind as I visit the prospect of moving to England, so far away, so very far from the family. Briefcase ready at the mirror, I stare at this tanned face soon to be pale and uninteresting. At the door, right by the red fire truck, it hits me. Well two things hit me, the truck by the entrance which I step on and as it carries me, I remember. I guess I inherited far more from mama than I thought. As my head crashes to the floor, I reach for something to grab and horrified I see the scorch marks I left on the doll house. The doll house I played with at my parents’ house. I can see the same scorch marks now on the wall, burning through the door as I try to reach for something on my way down. I remember the fire. You know mama nicknamed me ‘Candisbetheone’. My name is Jane.
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DragonRider reviewed Version 1 -
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I tripped my way inside. It was a disaster waiting to happen. Not the entrance, but the red fire engine truck waiting by the entrance. You know the kind, the monster variety … the type kids can crash multiple times over.
Good begining
Nailed to the floor with her reply, I try to dig myself out of this hole.
This doesn’t sound right to me.
This doesn’t sound like scifi/fantasy to me. Its a good short story and all, but i don’t see the fantasy of it.
Work on these thimngs and it will be better.
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SwordMistress reviewed Version 1 -
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This has the potential to be a good story. I liked the ending. But a lot of it was confusing. You did a good job with characterization. I got a good idea of what mama and Candis. See my notes below. I think if you clear up a few things this could be a great story.
“I mean who leaves a truck by the doorway?” Just off the top of my head, any child.
“Right now I could be a commando but I’m ready for my close up.” I don’t know what you mean by this.
“accompanying high pitch setting in” This isn’t clear. DO you mean her voice is becoming high pitched?
“Avoid landing on the Lego men whom are likely to do me more damage than I do to them.” Not a complete sentence. Parts of this are hard to follow.
“in de lange”. I have not idea what this means. The period should be on the inside of the quote.
I am half way through now and I have no idea what would make this Fantasy. The reader should be told as soon as possible.
“Five years, mama” mama,”
“to renew” renew,”
“Well, my parents died in this thing” This is confusing. I thought she was talking to her mother.
“That is till mama came to rescue all her grandchildren.” Is she talking to her grandmother? Does she call her grandmother mama? This doesn’t make sense. You need to make these things clear to the reader.
“the Forresters never stood a chance as aliens” What do you mean by aliens? Extra-terrestrials? People from another county? Be clear.
“of a family reunite.” Reunited. There are a lot of typos.
You mean she started the fire with some sort of power? Is that what a fire starter does? This is never made clear.
I like the use the fire truck at the beginning foreshadowing the end.
poetking reviewed Version 1 -
Read 10% of the Item
great, can i see more please?
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