Posted by: Dennie | October 16, 2013

My First Fiction

I had just stretched out to relax when she placed the thing directly into my line of vision,  and said in a stern voice,

“Don’t you dare touch that.”

“Huh,” I thought. Who does she think she is, using that tone of voice with me?

I lifted my head and gave her my best smile.

“I’m serious,” she said. “ You have to learn a little self-control and not touch stuff that isn’t yours.”

I sighed. We’d been down this road before. She knows this isn’t easy for me.

Resting my head back down on the couch, I closed my eyes. I could hear her moving around in the kitchen, banging pots and pans, starting dinner. The image slowly took form in my mind, taunting me. My eyes flew open in an attempt to make it go away, but there, right in front of me was the real thing. I stared.

“You stay right where you are, young man. I’ll know if you move one muscle. I can hear you.”

Her silhouette shadowed the door into the kitchen and I couldn’t see the expression on her face. Her voice was still stern, but I thought I detected a bit of amusement in her tone.

I didn’t want to push my luck. She was really angry the last time.

She stepped back into the kitchen, pots clattering again. Drawers sliding open and closed.

I shut my eyes once more and tried to relax, but the vision was still there.

“Think pleasant thoughts,” I told myself. “Remember your favorite place.”

My mind drifted to last summer. Lazy days on the beach, frolicking in the ocean surf, running miles along the shore. Lying in the sand, soaking up the July sunshine.

The door to the refrigerator opened and jarred me back to reality, back to the house, back to the temptation.

There it was. Big as life. I could feel it pulling me, like a magnet. I was quickly losing my grip.

“Maybe I should move into the kitchen,” I told myself, “away from the distraction.”

I slid off the couch. But when my feet touched the carpet, they moved away from the kitchen, propelling me toward the forbidden fruit, my weakness.

I was in trouble.

I moved as if in a dream. I must have blacked out because I don’t remember anything from that point on.

The next thing I knew she was over me, bent at the waist, her hands on  her hips.

“You did it again, you little sneak? I didn’t even hear you this time!”

I was on the bathroom floor, amid the mess I’d made. I felt ashamed and hung my head in disgrace.

John!” she called. “You’d better get in here. Your dog shredded an entire brand new roll of toilet paper. Again.”

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