Ladies and gentlemen, i present to you my entry for Erica's Blogfeast. Honestly, i do not know what to think of it. I 'm just following the rules and trying to keep up with the deadline in conjunction with a gazillion other things i must do. Soooooo.......
The story is set in the U.S. No specific town is used except for Maple Boulevard which i don't know if it exists or not. But i am sure i've heard the name somewhere. I don't want to delve deeply into the plot and what not, as i don't want to spoil the story for you.
Please, be kind. I had to write the entry between weekend and today. Ofcourse, be honest. That's the only way for a budding writer like me, to grow, right?
And for those that are not aware of this blogfeast, i suggest or rather insist you check it out
here.
It's a blogfest with interesting prizes. And, i admire the cute turkey badge. I wonder where Erica got that from. I have forwarded my food which in my previous blog, i mentioned that it is Jollof rice and Spicy fried chicken.
Without further ado, here is my entry:
TITLE: BETRAYAL BY MAIL
With one flicker
of the dust pad, the dust particles left the wooden framed portrait, Melanie
Buchanan held in her lithe hands. The picture held a very special memory for
her. Floods of nostalgic memories enveloped her mind, making her smile in the process.
Her husband of almost two years had been drafted to Iraq, leaving her to
literally raise their daughter, Amelia. Gosh!
I’ve missed you so much. I can’t wait to hold you, my love. So much has
happened since you left...
“Mummy, you promised to teach me how to weave Darlene’s hair”
interrupted Amelia, her frizzy hair, shielding her face as she clutched a doll.
“Give me a second, baby”
The little girl
trudged off from the bedroom. Melanie arranged the portrait, along with others
in her carry-on suitcase for her trip to her in-laws for thanksgiving inclusive
of eleven other military personnel under assignment. When Melanie had heard the
news, she had been elated at the prospect of re-uniting with Craig. The
electronic media had been awash with the news of the military personnel’s
arrival.
During the meeting
she had had with the other army wives at the barracks, a cake was prepared
amidst sparkling champagne to celebrate with her...or so it seemed. Majority of
them couldn’t contain their jealousy for the simple reason that her husband was
the only one among them that was being sent back to the country, except for
Sophia, whose husband had arrived a few weeks earlier.
Suitcase packed,
she joined Amelia in the simply furnished living room. Grabbing the doll from
her hands, she slowly began to weave the synthetic hair into braids.
“You put one here and loop the second one through here plus
the third. See. Then you keep doing it over and over again.” she said, showing
her how to achieve a weave. “Okay. I told you that we’re going to see grandma
and grandpa today because its what?”
“Thanksgiving” answered Amelia
“Good. So we’re leaving and you can continue Darlene’s hair
in the car.”
“Okay, mummy”
On the way to the
Buchanan’s residence at Maple Boulevard SW, Melanie’s thoughts wandered, behind
the steering wheel. For the umpteenth time, she checked the rear-view mirror to
see if her makeup was in its proper place. Though, she hadn’t heard from Craig
directly, the information she had received at the barracks was that Craig would
be arriving at his parents’ home for thanksgiving. She hadn’t given it much
thought why Craig didn’t communicate with her directly. She believed it did not
matter as long as he was coming home.
*
The Buchanans
which comprised of a middle-aged couple, gave her and her daughter, a warm
reception. Half an hour later, Mr Buchanan was helping to push Amelia’s swing
in the playground as the two women got down to business in the kitchen.
“I’ve already done most of the cooking before you came” said
Mrs Buchanan, bending over to examine the turkey in the oven. She rubbed some
seasoned oil on it and closed the oven door.
Melanie scooped
some mashed potatoes into a casserole from a mixing bowl, grinning from ear to
ear. Her mother-in-law observed her.
“Don’t worry, dear. He’ll be here soon. I can see how excited
you are.” the elder woman said, assuring her.
“I do love surprises but I can’t understand why he hasn’t
called me. But hey, if he did, then it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore, would
it?”
“Let’s wait for Craig, okay. Please help me with the wine
from the cellar”
The cellar was
replete with aged alcohol from whisky to red wine. Remembering Craig’s
favourite, she picked two bottles of 1950 Vintage whisky and glanced at the
remaining forty or so left. She quickly added another under her arm, afterall,
she and her husband deserved a private celebration in their room, when the
ceremony was over.
Within minutes,
the bottle was safely tucked under her mattress before joining her
mother-in-law at the dining table. Mr Buchanan was inside, washing his and
Amelia’s hands, in preparation for the meal. Melanie looked at the clock
chiming on the wall. 4 o’ clock. Her senses began to go on red alert.
“He’s not here. Where is he? I truly hope he’s okay” she
panicked, reminiscing on the video chats they previously shared on how he
complained of the nights of bedlam, he experienced daily. “What if something
happened to him?”
The couple
exchanged glances.
“Why don’t I show Amelia our spider collection?” joked Mr
Buchanan, dragging his grand-daughter along with him.
“Spiders! Eww” she replied, scrounging her face.
Melanie paced
around, wringing her hands and momentarily biting her fingernails, ruining her
newly manicured nails, in the process.
“Calm down, Melanie. He’ll be home soon” said Mrs Buchanan,
helping herself to some whisky. She looked the picture of calm.
“Are you sure he’s really coming home? I mean, he...he should
have called me.”
“You saw it for yourself on the news. Your husband’s picture
and eleven men, totalling twelve in number. Besides he got in touch with me and
he specifically said he’ll be here for thanksgiving”
“I’m so worried. It’s been about 5 years and I just...” she
said, anxiety weighing her down as she broke into a sweat. Her armpits were
glued in a sticky entangle with her cotton blouse.
“Here, have some. It’ll help calm you down”
Her mother-in-law poured some whisky in a glass and handed it
to her.
Half an hour
later, she was having a nervous breakdown until a car pulled up in the
drive-way. Melanie jumped up to peer through the window. Two uniformed soldiers
got down from an SUV and pulled out a wheelchair from the boot. The wheelchair
was assembled before the car door flung open. A man, whose view was obscure,
was assisted into it. Melanie covered her mouth as she backed away from the
window. Mrs Buchanan kept silent, feeling sorry for her. The door opened,
revealing Craig in the wheelchair, a sombre expression etched onto his face.
Melanie shook her
head, the tears dripping down her cheeks and smudging her mascara, she had
painstakingly applied.
“No” she screamed, running upstairs into a room and slamming
the door behind her. She buried her face into the pillow, wailing, unaware that
her mother-in-law had entered the room.
“Melanie”
“Go away” she sobbed. “That is not Craig. I want Craig back”
“Oh, don’t be childish. Is that the reason why you ran away?
You said it yourself that it’s been years since you’ve seen him and now he’s
here.” She sat beside her on the bed and placed a hand on her back, caressing
her. “He was ashamed to tell you of the injury he sustained in Iraq. You should
be thankful, he wasn’t killed. Now, wipe those tears and come, embrace your
husband”
After an extra
coaxing, Melanie sat upright and dabbed her face with powder on the bedside
table. Downstairs, Craig was chatting with his father, while Amelia sat on his
laps. Craig looked up to see her, the sadness revealing itself in his brown eyes.
He hadn’t shaved for a few days, though his hair had been cut low. Everyone
watched her, waiting to see her next move as she stood frozen, looking at him
and avoiding staring at his legs.
Craig handed
Amelia to Mr Buchanan and wheeled himself close to her.
“Baby” he began
“Shhh” interrupted Melanie, crouching to hug him. The flood
gates of tears bristled through both of them, their emotions at a fever pitch.
Craig caressed her hair as he held her.
“I’m sorry I failed you. I couldn’t...” he said,
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I was the one that ran away
when you came instead of supporting you. I’m so sorry. It was very stupid of
me. Please, forgive me. I didn’t know how to react”
The Buchanans
exchanged glances once more, each with a tear in their eyes. Amelia looked on.
They decided to give them some privacy, aware of something dire to come in the
future.
Craig held his wife’s face, clutching a few strands of blonde
hair as he gazed deep into her blue eyes. Their hearts were competing in a
beating frenzy.
“I’ve missed you so much. I can’t believe I’m seeing you in
the flesh and not through a video. I have so much to tell you.” he breathed
She was about to
speak when he planted a long kiss on her mouth. Her lips felt so soft, so
succulent under his as he kissed them, teasing her mouth to open further. Gosh, its been so long since we’ve
experienced this. He captured her tongue, conquering it. A moan escaped
from her, as she thought of how so, so long she had been with her husband and
the wonderful sensations that within her body. He was far from rusty as he made
her shudder. A feeling of warmth flowed through her, emancipating her in the
process. Someone cleared their throat, disengaging them slightly.
“The food is getting cold” declared Mr Buchanan, smiling
mischievously. The two lovebirds reminded him of when he and Mrs Buchanan were
very naughty, back in the day. “And Amelia is starving”
They smiled in
response. Melanie wanted to push the wheelchair for him but he wheeled himself,
instead. Mr and Mrs Buchanan again exchanged glances, communicating
non-verbally to the other. Yesterday, they had had a heated argument about
their son and daughter-in-law. If their daughter-in-law knew the real reason
why her husband came home, it was going to be the end of their marriage. Sitting
at the table, Mr Buchanan said grace.
Brought to you courtesy of:
as opposed to this above: 
