Randall Poston swirled his glass, watching shards of ice melt in a whirlpool of scotch. He snapped off the radio. The living room hushed to the humming level of car tires on wet pavement twelve stories below. Somewhere between "Hey, Jude" and "Piano Man", the little girl fell asleep, a tiny bundle under the covers of his king size bed. The Lucite clock from Fortunoff's glowed a red 11:37. Should he call the child's mother? The thought made his fingers grope for the receiver and lift it to his ear. Moments later, it slid, unused, gently back on the cradle. Kimberly Addison slept peacefully. The griping of her overindulged stomach had subsided, even in his incapable bands. Randall glanced at the bottle of thick pink liquid squatting on the coffee table, recalling the pains that gave her such grief and caused his stumbling rush to the drugstore. A few short hours ago, both Pepto Bismol and a blue-eyed five year old had joined his household. His fingers curled around the medicine much the way they had curled around the handle of a battered suitcase, shoved at him that morning, along with a frantic medley of words from Nancy Addison. "... and it will only be a day or two. She's really no trouble. If her grandfather weren't so sick, I'd bring her along ... but, with my mother and her arthritis. And Kimberly ... well, she wouldn't understand her grandfather laid up in bed, and all. Now I know you're quite the bachelor, Randy. Not used to having children underfoot. But, on such short notice, I can't leave her with anyone else, and seeing that you're home all day anyway. As for school, she has to be there by eight forty-five. She absolutely won't eat carrots. Spaghetti though ... " Randall reme... ... middle of paper ... ...nhattan tour guide, how about dinner, say in two hours? Nothing fancy. Spaghetti and a bottle of wine." "No carrots, please," interrupted Kimberly. "I agree, midget," added Randall. "I hate carrots, too." "But Mama, you know what? Mr. Postman doesn't hate Cheerios no more." Hand-in-hand, mother and daughter left for their apartment, Kimberley crunching Samantha and Oliver under one arm. Randall stood in the open doorway. "I'll bring her things over later, Nancy. See you both at six." As he began closing the door, Kimberly shouted, "Mr. Postman, wait!" She ran to him, eyes wide and serious, a miniature replica of her mother. Randall dropped to one knee. "What's the matter, midget? Need another Oreo?" She wrapped her tiny arms tightly around his neck. He barely heard her whispered words. "I love you, Mr…. Mr. Randy."
Susie’s mother opened the door to let Molly, Susie’s babysitter, inside. Ten-month old Susie seemed happy to see Molly. Susie then observed her mother put her jacket on and Susie’s face turned from smiling to sad as she realized that her mother was going out. Molly had sat for Susie many times in the past month, and Susie had never reacted like this before. When Susie’s mother returned home, the sitter told her that Susie had cried until she knew that her mother had left and then they had a nice time playing with toys until she heard her mother’s key in the door. Then Susie began crying once again.
“Not. I mean no. I’m stuck,” she replied in a breathy voice. He laughed low and rough, warm puffs of his breath hitting her as his hands groped the waist of the skirt again. A few tugs, and it slid down her body to the floor. His blue eyes staring up at her, while her skirt lay puddled in a soft heap on the floor. She struggled to control her breathing.
“Mother what is happening?” I asked her as I looked at the crowd gathering. There were three women in shackles walking.
Mrs. Eleanor Madeline Branigan went on and told them how this was not her husband, but a lifeless man. Then she advised the men how she was going to murder him tonight with the weapons on the table, unless them men can stop her by the time the clock stuck 12, anytime passed 12 she would not kill her husband. At 10:10 she got up to reach for the amber bottle of, what they assumed, poison, but the men forced her back into her chair. At 10:20 Mrs. Eleanor Madeline Branigan rose up and headed towards the poison again, but was compelled back to her chair. She kept trying to revive the Amber bottle, but , like the other times, was constrained back to her seat. When the clock hit 10:59, Gregory's eyes twitched and he took his final breaths. Then Mrs. Eleanor Madeline Branigan stood up and announced that the amber bottle was his medication and that he needed to obtain it to survive. Next, she told them that the medication could kill anyone by speeding up their heart too fast, except for Gregory since his heartbeat was slower than the average
A preternaturally loud, eerie call pierced the air. Jay felt Allie's hand tighten around his.
“Well Timmy will have to wait until we move to play; we have a big day ahead tomorrow” George said in a happy voice ‘It’s a big adventure for all of us!” He cheered; Sarah picked Paige up and placed her in bed “Get some shut eye sweetie” Sarah cooed as she tucked her daughter in.
She walks up the stairs. The house is very noisy. The music is so loud that the floor vibrates. The smoke alarm is off and the little girl is coughing and sneezing. The living room looks cloudy. “What’s burning? What is up? Whose jacket is this?” Linette asks hanging her bag. “What has come over my son, God?” She asks rhetorically looking up the ceiling. “Didn’t we discuss this before I left for Dubai?” Linette asks Brian, her eldest son who is slowly becoming a drug addict. “What are you up to this time round? What are you smoking, my dear…pot?” Linette asks as she bends to pick pieces of what looks like packaging manila. “Oh my goodness!” She pauses. “Look at what you are doing to your sister. Can’t you spare her at least?” Linette wonders as she stretches her arms to pick up Kimberly, her youngest daughter. “Mom…” Kimberly utters. “I miss you!” Kimberly says as she reaches her mother’s ears. “I know ma’am! I am back and I missed you too. How are you?” Linette asks as she looks into her daughter’s eyes. “I am hungry. I ate lunch, though!” Kimberly
“I’m not the cook Marlene is, considering what she is going through, I won’t ask her to prepare something, but Mom, if you’ll help me, we can make something for us,” Jerry said ready to go the kitchen.
Peter dashed off to set up the tea and Wendy beckoned for Mr. McClean to follow her. She led the way in silence, striding down the hall. The energy-saving lights flickered on one by one as they walked further down the hall. The dim light cast an eerie glow throughout the hall, causing it to look endless. The natural sunlight was obscured by the thick curtains that were tightly covering the windows. Wendy’s footsteps reverberated against the floor with malevolent thumps.
“Som, wake up! Hurry and pack your stuff we need to go!” his mother yelled. He sat up in his bed and listened to her feet quickly hitting the floorboards as she hurried away before
“Smithy was not paying attention to the baby part. She was paying attention to the cancer part. Her mother had a 50% chance of dying. This baby, announced their mother, and she was smiling-Smithy always remembers that smile-is your brother or sister. A few days later, an ultrasound established that it was a baby boy. Mom was beaming. He’s healthy she said excitedly. You’re not, pointed the doctor. I’m tough. It’s only 5 more months. I’ll start chemo after the baby’s here. You’ll be dead by then. Mom shrugged.”
“I see mom,” she pointed in the direction of the gates where their mother was just entering, still in her uniform from work. Benjimin followed Hollands gaze, then quickly pulled his sister along to reach their mother, who looked relieved to see them.
"Rough night?" Jenny didn’t wait for an answer. ”Poor baby. At least your boy brought you home."
“Son,” Dr. James said. “Tell your mother I will be home soon. I am just leaving the office now.”
"I'll be right there, as soon as I take care of something. Now go before George catches us!" She orders. The child looks out across the lawn, then at her mom. She knew she should get help, but didn't want to leave her mom alone in the