The following story received an honorable mention in the WritersWeekly.com Spring Short Story Contest. I had 24 hours to write a story based on the assigned topic in under 930 words.
This is the assigned topic: The cherry blossoms floated gently down, landing on their blanket. They had just started eating when a pigeon landed by their basket. They both stared wide-eyed as the bird walked closer, unafraid. That’s when they noticed a tiny scroll of paper attached to its right leg…
This is my story:
Snow and Smoke
Pink Snow
A cherry blossom landed on Daniel’s dark hair. I couldn’t have picked a more perfect picnic spot in Central Park. We looked around at pink blossoms drifting in the warm breeze like snow. A pigeon cooed in the tree above us. Daniel unwrapped a sandwich and took a bite. I smiled at him, leaned in, and picked the blossom off his hair. Nausea rose in me at the smell of pastrami. He handed me a sandwich and I shook my head.
“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked.
I swallowed, took a cleansing breath, and said, “I have some great news to tell you.”
“You got the job?”
I shook my head again. At that moment the pigeon swooped down landing near the picnic basket. We stared at it staring at us. A tiny scroll of paper was attached to its right leg. The bird walked toward me. I extended my left arm, palm up as my mother taught me to do years ago when she was still alive and raising homing pigeons.
“What’s happening?” Daniel asked.
I didn’t say a word. The bird hopped into my hand. I slipped its legs between my index and middle fingers. Using my thumb, I held its wings in place and cradled it against my stomach. With my right hand, I released the scroll and handed it to my husband. “Read it,” I said.
He took the paper from me. I stroked the pigeon while Daniel clumsily unrolled the scroll. It took two tries but he finally got it open. It was slightly smaller than the paper inside a fortune cookie. He held it closer to his face.
“What does it say?” I asked.
“It’s a boy.”
“What?”
“It says it’s a boy.”
“Let me see that.” I set the pigeon on the picnic blanket and reached for the scroll. My heart felt fluttery as the bird’s wings when I saw the words written in blue ink. I couldn’t stop staring at the slant of the b, the clumsy oval of the o, and the loopy tail of the y. It looked exactly like my mother’s distinctive, quirky handwriting.
The pigeon cooed and flew into the dazzling blue sky. We watched it until it was out of sight. I reached for Daniel’s hand. “I need to tell you something.” His eyes met mine and I squeezed his hand. “I’m pregnant.”
# # #
Black Smoke
Ryan sat in his high chair eating dry Cheerios one at a time. I scrambled eggs on the stove. Daniel walked into the kitchen and stole a Cheerio from his ten-month-old son; Ryan giggled.
“Breakfast is almost ready,” I said.
Daniel looked at his watch. “Babe, I’ve got to go. Today’s a big day.” He moved my hair out of the way and kissed me on the neck. “I’m meeting a new client this morning.”
“Sit down,” I said. “You can’t do your best accounting work with no breakfast.” I turned the stove off and steered him to the breakfast table next to Ryan.
“Dada,” Ryan said.
“Okay, I’ll eat but I’ve got to make it quick,” Daniel said. “Today is not the day to be running late.”
I put plates of bacon, eggs, and toast on the table.
Peck—Peck—Peck.
“What’s that sound?” Daniel asked. He took a bite of bacon.
I looked around the room.
Peck—Peck—Peck.
It was a pigeon on the ground pecking at the sliding glass door. A tiny scroll of paper was attached to its right leg.
The day was drenched in sunshine. I opened the door, stooped, and picked up the pigeon. After retrieving the scroll, I stood and released the bird. It flew away.
I gasped when I saw my mother’s handwriting. There was the slant of the h, two clumsy ovals, and two loopy tails. I stepped inside the house and closed the door.
“What does it say?” Daniel asked.
“Stay home today.”
“I already told you. Today’s a big day. I can’t miss work.”
“The scroll says stay home today.”
“Oh, you’re kidding,” Daniel said.
I handed him the scroll and walked to the counter next to the stove. My mother’s old recipe box was there. The box was full of recipes written on index cards in her handwriting. I pulled out a recipe for chicken spaghetti and showed it to Daniel. “I swear that’s the handwriting on that scroll. That’s the same handwriting on the first scroll we got in the park. Remember that?”
Daniel studied the index card and the scroll. “What an incredible coincidence.”
Ryan yawned and ate another Cheerio.
Daniel chewed a piece of toast and got up from the table. “I’ve got to get to the subway.”
“No, you can’t go,” I said.
“Jillian, I can’t miss work.”
“Please stay home.” Tears formed in my eyes.
“Babe, you can’t be serious.”
“Please,” I said. “Just stay home. I feel it in my bones. Something is very wrong.”
“I’ll stay a little longer but I’ve got to get to the World Trade Center before noon.”
Ryan was fussy. I got him out of the high chair and we all moved into the living room. I turned on the TV so Ryan could watch cartoons. We sat there about thirty minutes before the cartoons ended abruptly and a news anchor appeared. The anchor said, “We’re receiving reports that a plane has crashed into the World Trade Center.”
We jumped up and looked outside. The dazzling blue sky drenched in sunshine was full of black smoke.
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