Have Another Cookie

Hello, Blogger World! I have been eaten up with guilt that I haven't been able to update with any kind of regularity. The fact of the matter is that I do not have internet at my house, so I have to all of my surfing at the office. I have justified checking other people's blogs while at work, but I just cannot justify updating during work hours. Hopefully, I will be getting internet in the next few days (keep your fingers crossed for me), but in the mean time, I would like to share some fiction writing with you.

My friend Gale has introduced me to Flash Fiction in the form of a weekly contest. Each Friday she posts a random word and the contestants have to enter a 350-word piece of fiction containing the word of the week. The word for Friday the 13th was "puppet," and my story "Have Another Cookie" tied for first place. So I am sharing it with you. Hopefully you will get a real post soon! Love to all!

Have Another Cookie

"Here, sweetie, have another cookie."

"Thanks, Mrs. Puppet. Your cookies are as good as ever."

"Oh, Paul, I will never forget when you were a boy. Everyday, after school you would be tapping on my door, pleading for cookies. But that was a long time ago. Now it seems that I never see you! Where has my Paulie been?" Mrs. Puppet's very being exuded cheerfulness; everything about her smiled. Even her gentle chiding was done with pure love.

Paul shrugged guiltily. "Mrs. Puppet, I come as often as I can..."

"I know, dear. How is Amy? I still say she was the loveliest bride I have ever seen."

"She's as lovely as ever." Paul's broad shoulders sagged as he forced the words out, but managed a slight smile.

"When are you two going to have children? They need to taste my cookies!"

"The... The timing isn't right, Mrs. Puppet."

"You can at least bring your beautiful wife by. I haven't even seen Amy since the wedding day. How long has it been now?"

"6 years, 5 months, 14 days." Paul bit his lip ferociously and stared determinedly at the ceiling.

"That long? My, the days do fly! Why haven't you brought her to see me?"

"Mrs. Puppet..." He hesitated on the verge of baring his soul to her. Everyday he sat in her apartment at the Green Valley Assisted Living complex and told her the same story, and it never got easier.

"My dear, you look so distressed! Here, have another cookie and tell me what's wrong."

The newspaper clipping Paul took from his pocket was discolored and well-worn. He handed it to Mrs. Puppet and held her hand as she read the article, dated exactly 6 years, 5 months and 14 days before. ...accident resulted in tragedy... woman in passenger seat died on impact... driver in critical condition...other passenger unharmed...

Silent tears ran down Mrs. Puppet's face. Paul allowed his tears to claim him as he sat down next to her on the bed and welcomed her hug.

"Here sweetie," she choked, "Have another cookie."