Literati! No pussy-footin’ around: Midnight your entries must roll in on little cat’s feet to the towers that are A Word with You Press. As expected, there has been a litter of last-minute entries, and meow is the time to send them in, or firever hold your piece. Monica’s entry, by the way, is exactly what the theme of the contest is all about, as she scratches Beneath the Surface. (One calm, summer night, think Richard Cory)
by Monica Brinkman
My mom, Ginger Ann Williams was the envy of her friends. If you were painting a portrait of the perfect life, her face would grace the canvas.
I often heard the women whisper what a dashing image my father, Judge Earnest Williams, possessed with his long muscular physique, dark piercing eyes, and chiseled features. Of course, Mother complimented him well with her fair skin, green eyes and golden-red hair. Both relied on bicycling with family to keep their bodies fit and flexible. Every afternoon you’d see the familiar silhouettes of the Williams family; four bicycles cycling past the three-mile stretch of houses in suburbia USA.
Our home was a massive three-story gray stoned structure, complete with wrap-around porch and glass enclosed patio. The prize-winning gardens lavishly lush, a Brunswick green, speckled with colored plantings, were the product of Mother’s green thumb.
Lisa and I, Jeremy, are twins, though you would never know this from appearance. She took after Father, and me, cursed with the reddish toned hair and fair skin of Mother. How ironic it seemed for a young man to have features his thick raven-haired sister silently longed for, yet we were a striking pair.
Mother’s friends envied the eloquent, sweet, respectful and loving persona we presented. Lisa and I giggled with pride to hear the cackle of praise bestowed upon mother in raising such perfectly mannered children. Oh, how they wished their own would behave half as well.
They say twins possess a deep bond that no one may penetrate. Perhaps that is truth, for we treasured the time spent together in the shed. Lisa placing her hand around the mouth to muffle the cries, as I felt bloodied fur hit my face and life ebb from the little kitten’s body.
We shall obey you dear Mother and Father. We shall be the perfect children you badgered and beat us to become. We shall portray outward beauty.
In remembrance of each welted bruise, you, dear Mother, placed upon us, we secretly hold power over the weak and glorify within its grasp.
You taught us well.
Editor’s note: Meow that I have your attention, please remind your friends who intend to vote for you that all votes received thus far are DISQUALIFIED!. The rules are that they must wait until ALL stories are posted(hopefully late Saturday or early Sunday) and then each person who did not enter the contest but wants to help select the winner must post comment on at least THREE stories, in order to earn TWO votes, and may not cast both votes for the same author. Please, do put your stories on FB and encourage your friends to vote for you, but to keep this from being based on your social standing with the media, your friends are required to be full participants as readers of other stories, and ONE of their votes is going to be for someone OTHER than you!
Oh, sometimes I long for the days when I was the sole judge and I could base my decisions solely on the merits of bribes proffered!
Kitties like tuna. What about mermen? Here is a peek again at the trophy: