Eyesore

“Open your eyes!  Would you stop squinting?”

Tears stream down my cheeks.  I force them open a crack, but am unable to keep them that way.  The world is a brilliant, blazing red. My eyes roll back up into my head to avoid the glaring onslaught.

“Open your eyes and stop squirming!” my impatient father growls.

I force myself to stand still and try for the fourth time.  The wretched sun undoes me again.  It drills painfully through my eyelids.  This time I don’t even have to open them for the tears to flow.

“I can’t!  It hurts!  The sun’s too bright!  It hurts my eyes!  Hurry!

“Turn a bit then.  No, not that much.  Move over closer to Shelley.  And stand still, would you?”

I reach out, groping blindly to find my sister.  I finally touch her shoulder and move to stand nearer to her. 

"Turn this way!"

Rotating, I grimace painfully in the general direction of the angry voice and force my eyes open. 

“Hurry! Take it!” I shriek, through clenched teeth. 

Ah.  A sweet memory to consider.  My brothers. Handsome devils they were.  All toothy grins.  My strawberry-blond, rosy-cheeked, adorable little sister. And me. Wild, curly white hair, skinny legs, knobby knees, two missing teeth, eyes squeezed shut in perpetuity, against the stinging rays of the sun.  

Another family picture spoiled.

There Was A Knock At The Door

"There was a knock at the door." How could she incorporate that sentence into a short story of 250 words?  She relaxed in the soapy water and considered possible scenarios.  “Maybe it could be about Jesus knocking at the door. The women are probably fed up with my “humorous” stories and would appreciate something with a spiritual bent.”  She immersed herself deeper in the bubbles. “Maybe a delivery man comes to the wrong house and an argument ensues?  No.  A policeman announcing they found a body in the neighbours’ backyard?  I don’t like any of those.” Closing her eyes she breathed deeply. “OH, I know…there was a nuclear holocaust and the protagonist is the last person on earth…and there’s a knock at the door.  Spooky and possibly funny.  I like that one!”

She bolted upright.  Someone was knocking at the door!  “Weird. Thinking about a story using ‘there was a knock at the door’ and then there’s a knock at the door!”  Another knock.  “Get lost!” she muttered, gritting her teeth, “I’m not answering.”  Settling back in the tub, she sighed deeply and tried to relax again.  The knocking began again, this time in earnest.  “I refuse to answer!  Go away,” she sputtered.  They were pounding now. “What the heck!”  

She clambered out of the tub.  Infuriated!  Water dripping everywhere she flung a bath towel around herself and stormed down the stairs. “They are going to get a piece of my mind!”

She threw open the door.  

“WHAT THE HECK DO YOU WANT,” she shouted at the three people standing on her doorstep.

“YOUR HOUSE IS ON FIRE!!!”