Tuesday Tales - When a Bracelet Causes Havoc

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.

A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. This week we share the prompt "bracelet".  You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds.  This will be an excerpt from my brand new yet-to-be-named WIP.

Enjoy!~

Sitting in the living room watching mindless reruns, I contemplated how comforting television scripts actually were. People became involved in what seemed impossible circumstances, yet they always miraculously worked things out. I liked how in roughly twenty-five minutes major life crisis situations resolved themselves and everyone smiled absurdly at the end. This unrealistic montage of catastrophes turned to bright shiny successes, and I craved such fiction in my own life. A doorbell chime jingled me back to my reality. “Mom, are you gonna get that?” I didn’t want to move from my permanent dent in the couch.


The doorbell pealed urgently again. How did a damn doorbell do that- become more incessant with each press of the button? Hell, it’s probably someone just selling wrapping paper or promises to save my soul. I didn’t want either one right now- living on the edge of wrapping paper depletion and eternal damnation felt edgy, feelings I could actually sink my teeth into.

I swear the doorbell emitted a sing song of, “answer meeee, answer meeee.” Third time’s a charm, I could no longer stand it. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” Followed by whispered, “get some motherfucking patience.”

Swinging open the door with more force than necessary, I found a small, meek woman. She definitely didn’t look like the type of behemoth who could make the doorbell- and the house inhabitants- her bitch. But, she did today.

“Can I help you?” I looked around desperately for the no solicitor sign I prayed my mother had posted. I wasn’t in the mood for any lengthy conversations with a stranger, no matter the topic. Why was I looking? My mom welcomes the entire clan of beseeching misfits.

“Hi, I’m Heidi Forrest, I’m sorry to bother you.” Shuffling her feet, Heidi looked down as if inspecting invisible shoe laces.

“I attend church every Sunday at the Methodist church here in town. I really don’t need saving.” Who the hell was I kidding, I hadn’t been to church regularly since that fucking tornado. But, Heidi doesn’t need to know that.

“What, the Methodist church? I’m confused.” Shaking her head, and blinking a few times, Heidi gave me a look of total misunderstanding.

“Never mind, hey, my mom isn’t home, if you’re needing the homeowner.”

“Well, actually, I was looking for someone named, named… Rachel.” The words sputtered out, almost undiscernible.

I finally noticed the tiny gift box she fiddled with between her two small hands. “I’m Rachel.” Even as I uttered the words, I almost wished I hadn’t. I couldn’t take surprises, or wrong turns, in my life right now. Rachel needed a break today.

“This got swept up in that tornado and ended up in our pasture. It landed in a feed trough, of all things.”  Quickly projecting her hands forward, the battered box became more visible.

I finally noticed how dirty the jewelers’ box was, the dirt stains scuffed the sides of worn metallic silver.

“I don’t understand, I’m not familiar with that box.” The roaring in my ears was the sound of my heart beating wildly out of control. Blood rushed to my head, making it ready to explode. No more surprises, no more unexpected reminders. I couldn’t do this. Crossing my arms tightly against my chest, I pressed my hands into my armpits. I wouldn’t take that damn thing into my grasp. No. Fucking. Way.

“It’s a bracelet.” Heidi whispered, her head bowed again.