I Have not written ( or mor accurately I have not shared) a short story in ages. I am taking an online Master Class and I thought Why not put it here and see if anyone comments. Short stories are, frankly, not something I have ever done particularly well, but I have been doing a lot of reading and find myself thinking "hey I could do this" ( It's something I remember my Creative writing teacher Don Wulffson doing with us in class, showing us work and asking if we could do this or better) So I present (and hope you enjoy) my short story "Salsa" It's probably still a work in progress, but take a look at the draft. Comment, but don't break my heart!
Sally Southerby took her cup of coffee and sat out on the
picnic table on her
patio that looked out over her small garden. Sally enjoyed the peaceful time
she had in the morning, before going to work. If
she were quiet, she would not
wake Ralph at all and her day could be a good
one. Ralph was still asleep,
"recovering" from his nightly visit to his "watering hole" (
Sally thought of it as
his second job)
She had planted a garden this year, alongside the oleander
hedge, that blocked the neighbors prying eyes and
ears from what went on at
the Southerby house.
Sometimes, Sally wondered if they heard, but
refused to get involved. Sally
resigned herself to the fact that there was no
point in wondering and looked
again at the garden. Yes, everything looked ready
to pick and Sally still had a
little time before she had to go to work. She would finally make that salsa she
had been creating for so long in her mind. Today was the day.
Sally walked along the oleander hedge that bordered the garden, carefully
selecting all the items she would need for the special salsa. Once in her kitchen,
she worked quickly and
quietly and placed the finished product in a ceramic bowl
her mother had
given her when she married Ralph. Her mother had high hopes
that Ralph would be good to Sally and Sally was glad her mother had not
lived
long enough to see the results of
Sally's bad choice.
Sally quietly put on her uniform and went off to
the Rattlesnake Cafe, where
she worked from seven to two in the afternoon. The pay wasn't much, but the
tips were decent and Sally got to see people. It was better than being trapped
in the house all day.
The regular crowd was there and Sally was quickly
taking orders for eggs and
omelets and filling coffee cups. She was joking with Harry and bussing his
table
when the sleeve of her uniform slid up to revel the
huge bruise that wrapped
around her wrist.
Quickly she yanked the sleeve back down, but she was fairly
sure Harry had seen it and she knew Jesse the
cook would have caught the
motion and known that Ralph had been Ralph again.
Jesse had been angry
when he saw the last set of bruises. He told Sally to get out. "In my own time"
she assured
him.
Sally stopped at the store on the way home. Tacos.
Ralph loved her tacos and
would eat at least eight or nine of them in one
sitting. Sally hoped the salsa
would come out the way she dreamed it would.
Ralph came home from the bar at Sally's urging
"I'm making tacos" she said
"and I know how much you love them
hot." He had been at the bar long
enough to
have a few under his belt, but not be the blistering angry drunk his
usual night at the place made him. Sally was pretty sure the bartenders who
made a good wage on Ralph' bar tab had no idea what the results of their
nightly ministrations meant for Sally. Ralph was a professional drunk, the life
of the party in public. It was only behind closed doors that the
angry monster
poured out of him.
Sally was grateful to see Ralph eat nine tacos and
generously spoon the new
salsa into the shell. "This is some GOOD salsa, Sal" he
said more than once.
Sally smiled back and told him it was a new recipe.
Ralph soon staggered off to bed, waving off her
reminder to take his heart
medication and
leaving Sally to clean up. She
smiled to herself as she scraped
the rest of the
salsa down the garbage disposal.
Sally always
cleaned the kitchen after dinner was done. She looked out the
window over her garden at the oleander hedge and
smiled.
Tomorrow was
going to be a good day.
