Flash Fiction - five cards

Flash Fiction Five Cards

I.             Six Word Story 

Closed:  Inspection.  Unidentifiable infestation in the kitchen.

II.           Character:  a waitress

III.         Point of View:  A Physical Life

IV.         Complication/obstacle to overcome – fear of mayonnaise

V.           Setting/Time Period:  Slaves quarters @ 7:00AM in Georgia, 1860

II Character:  A Waitress

Joanne was always tired, pale, exhausted.  Even as a kid she was worn out being the oldest of seven, the only girl.  She probably got it from her mother who spent much of her days in bed, the depression like a heavy, hairy hand that held here down so she hadn’t the strength to get up.  It had to be Joanne who every school day shook the cereal into plastic bowls, mopped up the milk that got spilled.  In the rowdy, perpetual motion of the little boys as they slurped up their breakfast, she’d stand behind them, brushing each head in turn, sometimes applying a little spit to plaster down a ‘cowlick’.  This done, she’d then slap some peanut butter and jam on slices of soft white bread, all thumbs as she attempted to get a piece of waxed paper around them, then stuff them into bags.  She could barely get her own face washed, let alone brush her teeth, then pull on something, often the same dress she’d worn the day before.  The boys waited, jittering, jackets on, a blur of perpetual motion, shrieking and slapping at each other, the littler ones the first to cry. 

Then Joanne would bring her mother’s purse to her.  Mother, white as the none too white sheets on the bed, propped herself up on one elbow as she fished out the coins for milk money, praying under her breath that she had enough for all of them.  If she was short, guess who didn’t get milk with her lunch.  Then the boys were off like successive shots from a pistol.

By the time Joanne reached junior year of high school she was too worn out to make the effort to graduate so just stopped going to school.  Knowing this was wrong, her mother couldn’t help but be thrilled to have her around to help her during the day.  Then one day, fed up, Joanne walked down to the Center Café and applied for the waitress job that had opened up when her friend, Wendy had to stop working to have her baby.

Point of View:  1 A physical life

          When Joanne was born friends and family were somewhat relieved to see that the precious little pink , blue-eyed baby girl resembled neither her mother, a forlorn young woman not blessed with winning looks, nor her Dad.  She was as a reincarnation of her late Granny, her Dad’s Mom—same large saucer-round blue eyes, small full-lipped cupid’s bow mouth, and on her head a mere golden fuzz that in time would be the color of pulled taffy.  Her other living grandmother always called her her little dolly which, when she was small, she looked like a ‘kewpie doll’.

As the brothers arrived in rapid succession the kewpie doll was shoved aside, them pressed into service since her mother couldn’t manage them and their father, when he was home was no help.  He even trained Joanne when she was but four or five years old how to pull open the pop-top of a foaming can of beer.  (They were often dropped from the small plump hands.)

Joanne loved school, possibly for the peace and quiet that prevailed there.  She started as a good student, was praised by her teachers.  But as she approached adolescence the homework assignments were more than she could manage, what with all she had to do around the house.  Her marks fell lower as she more and more frequently failed to complete the assignments.  She just couldn’t do it all. 

Teachers requested meetings with her mother who was never able to come.  It was a shame for they knew she was a bright girl.  She was simply worn out and seemed to b e dragged down by the depression that had such a grip on her mother.

Joanne developed early and had a remarkable figure for a fourteen year old.  But eventually the soft curves became padding, her rear end and thighs, just like Granny’s, grew disproportionately wide so that her girth, adding to all her other burdens, weighed her down to a slow, lethargic, scuffing walk.

IV Complication/Obstacle to Overcome:

“fear of mayonnaise”

Came Betsy and Robert, Robbie, Junior and Kim

As neighbors ‘hind curtains watched them move in

To the spanking new bungalow, windows flashing back sun

A perfect young family should be such fun.

They could hardly restrain themselves, let the young family settle

While the newcomers hoped to halt them till all in fine fettle

But they just couldn’t manage to wait one more day,

Came up the front walk, some carrying trays

Baskets of sticky buns, toll house cookies, macaroni casseroles, assorted goodies.

Several neighbors, vying, each came bearing a platter, held up colorful Jello rings, quivering domes they took care not to splatter

Alternate layers, some brilliant, bright, clear, other creamy pastels that made Betsy feel queer

She gulped, asked ingredients, was then instantly queasy.  Her one real phobia was poisoning from food

Gone bad.  When  revealed it was ‘mayo’ she felt very sad.

Without a word she made up her mind to flush those creamy layers down the toilet

Mayonnaise at room temperature would definitely spoil it.

IV Setting/Time Period

Slaves quarters, 7:00 AM in Georgia

It was already blistering hot.  They should have been in the fields an hour ago.  There was bound to be trouble, bad, but they didn’t care.  The families gathered around the two men, neighbors who’d just ridden back from town and went straight to the Lewis’s cabin, first because Amos Lewis, the field foreman, should be the first to be told; and secondly, because their cabin was set deeper in the woods than any other so they were less apt to be spied, relaying this life and death news.

Despite the rumblings and rumors they’d been hearing for weeks, they could hardly believe what these men told them though, of course, they knew they were men to be trusted, that their word was their surety:  they told them that they were going to war against the Yanks, against the Union.   This filled them with fear, yet they were exultant, no matter what the outcome. 

Then hearing the manager’s horses hooves galloping towards them they scattered, fanning out through the woods, then to circle down separately into the fields.