Welcome to The Spot Writers. The prompt for this month is to write something write about a picture frame from a thrift store with a message scrawled on the back.
This time, it’s
Cathy MacKenzie’s turn. Her writings have been published in almost 400 print and
online publications. Check out her website (www.writingwicket.wordpress.com)
for further information on her works.
Cathy is continuing with more tales about the
Grimes family.
***
by
Cathy MacKenzie
“Mom!” Jimmy yelled. “I thought all the Christmas
decorations were put away.”
Elise’s voice echoed from the top of the stairs.
“They are. What are you talking about?”
“You’ve got a Christmas picture on the
table, and it’s February.” And it’s of that damn
Sprite, Jimmy thought.
His mother appeared at the bottom of the
stairs. “What picture?”
Jimmy pointed to the dining room table.
“That one.”
“Oh, that. Picked it up at the thrift store
yesterday. Two ninety-nine. They’re trying to clear out Christmas stuff, I
guess.”
“We don’t need it. We have enough pictures
of that guy.”
“Jimmy, such language!”
“I said ‘that guy.’ I didn’t swear.”
His mother waved him off. “Even if I didn’t
want Sprite’s picture—which I do—the frame’s worth at least nine ninety-nine.”
“We have enough frames. Boxes of them in
the basement. Dad’s gonna be pissed when he sees another one.”
Elise laughed. “Then it’ll be our little
secret.” She gave him a sly smile before heading back upstairs.
“Jeepers,” he muttered. “Why...”
He went to the dining room. Hated touching
the thing but picked it up anyway. Sprite stared at him with that expression.
That knowing look. Like he could see everything Jimmy had ever done. Sprite’s
mouth was weird, though. His lips were pressed tightly together as if
physically holding words back. Jimmy was glad the thing was behind glass.
All the sprites looked that way. Every.
Single. One.
What was it with these things?
He turned the frame over. The backing was
loose. “Cheap,” he mumbled. “Not worth nine dollars. Not even two.”
He picked at the tape holding the backing
to the frame. His fingers kept going—peeling, peeling, peeling.
The cardboard fell off.
A small envelope dropped onto the table.
Jimmy picked it up. Glanced around. Made
sure his mother hadn’t come back down.
He felt something inside. Tore open the
side.
A small card. Heavy stock. About two inches
by three. Green.
He flipped it over.
I still watch
what you do!
Jimmy dropped the card. Looked back at the
frame on the table.
Sprite’s expression had changed. Still that
“knowing” look, but now he smiled.
***
The Spot Writers:
Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/
Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com
Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com
Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/
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