The Assignment: Plant a Rose Bush

“Learn, so that you can teach others.” Helena recalled the last assignment from her deceased grandmother whose advice echoed and re-echoed through her mind, as she planted a rosebush beside the headstone in the country graveyard.

Suddenly, it started to drizzle.

“Even the sky is crying, but this is perfect weather for planting roses.”  

“I miss you so much!” she whispered. A tear rolled down her cheek. “How am I going to survive alone?”

“Helena, you must learn everything you possibly can, while I am still alive,” her grandmother had told her. “When I am gone, never stop learning. Please promise to do this for me.”

Helena knew the nature of her grandmother’s medical condition and made the promise immediately. She recalled her grandmother’s gentle face remembering how much she resembled her mother, who had suddenly passed away, several years earlier. Helena’s grandmother was seventeen years old when her mother was born. She had lost her life and that of an infant in premature childbirth.

“My time is short now, too,” her grandmother had said. Helena knew she spoke the truth. “Girls always have a difficult life in every part of the world. Even young ones must learn the art of survival. Remember everything I have taught you about how to survive on your own. Pass it on to other girls.”

Her grandmother’s words echoed in her mind. “A mother can only teach her daughter so much. Always seek the sisterhood of other girls, female relatives and other women from different levels of society, so that you can share what you have learned. Become sisters and you will never be alone.”

Helena carefully planted rosebushes for her own mother and deceased sibling.

“Now, there is a rosebush for each of you. I love you!”

Suddenly, she heard a sound, turned turned and spotted Monica, a classmate.

“Can you show me how to plant a rosebush, too?” asked Monica. “Our great-aunt passed away several weeks ago. I want to plant one in her memory.”

“I am so sorry,” replied Helena. “Sure, I will help you plant a rosebush. You can teach others girls. That will make us all sisters.

The New Father: An Unexpected Blessing

“This is not supposed to happen,” thought Blake, a young man who was about to graduate from high school. “Not yet, God, please!” Blake’s hand shook as he put down his Blackberry. Ramona, his sixteen-year old girlfriend had just called to tell him she was at the hospital in hard labor. “I am too young to be a new father!”

Blake and Ramona had been intimate during the winter. After having unprotected sex, a positive pregnancy test and a visit to her doctor confirmed that she was pregnant. Blake immediately decided to do the right thing. He was determined to become a proper husband to Ramona, as well as a good father for their baby.    

Ramona’s first instinct had been to run because her parents were very angry. They blamed Blake and demanded she have an abortion immediately. When she refused, they advised her she was no longer part of their family.

Blake and his parents convinced Ramona to stay in the city. They would be married after his graduation and become a family.

“Mom, I have to go to the hospital immediately! Ramona is in hard labor.”

“But, she is only seven months along!” his mother exclaimed. “Me, a grandmother already. Oh my! I will drive you there.”

Blake ran into the hospital, while his mother parked the car.

“Congratulations, Blake,” said Ramona’s doctor. “You have a son!”

“Is Ramona all right?” ask Blake. “What about the baby?”

“The delivery went quickly, but Ramona is fine. She is resting. The baby is in an incubator in the nursery. He is tiny, just four pounds, but he is a strong, healthy baby.”

“Thank God!” replied Blake. “May I see Ramona?”

“Sure can, Blake. Then, I will take you to the nursery to see your son.”

The doctor was amazed at how well Blake handled the situation.

“Congratulations with respect to your graduation, Blake. My daughter is graduating, too! By the way, I am looking for a young man to train as a doctor’s assistant. If you are interested, come by my office and we can talk about it.”

The Controversy: The Argument

“Daddy, I don’t think parents and children can have a fair argument, do you?” ten-year old Meggie, asked her father. “Parents always win.” 

“Parents don’t always win,” replied her father, “That is a controversial statement, to say the least. Where is my daughter coming from?” he wondered. “She’s growing up too fast!”

“See, right away, you used a big word that I do not understand. That is not really fair, as there is no way I can win unless I understand what you are saying,” replied Meggie. “Daddy, what does controversial mean?”

“Let me explain it to you. Say you and I are having an argument, or disagreement about something. You take one side and I take the other side. That is also a dispute.”

“Like when I say parents and children can never have a fair argument?”

“That is right. I disagree with what you said, because I think that parents and children can have a fair argument. Disagreements of any kind can turn into heated arguments, or public arguments that lead to controversy, which may involve other people and then, they take sides.”

“Like the king and the king’s men, siding together against a person like Robin Hood?”

“More like when you and I have an argument and all of your classmates side with you, while your mother and brothers take my side.”

“Like if I say ten year old girls are smarter than ten year old boys?”

“That could be a good example of a controversial topic that might involve the opinions of others. The ten year old girls in your class might agree, but I don’t think that the ten year old boys in your class would.”

“What side would you and Mommy take?”

“That could turn into an interesting debate.”

“See Daddy, I cannot win an argument because you always use words I don’t understand. What is a debate?”

“Maybe we should ask your mother to buy a dictionary for you?”

“We don’t need to do that, Daddy. There is a dictionary on the computer.”

The Mysterious Envelope: The Delivery

The mysterious, large, white envelope was delivered to Zeke’s home around suppertime. A deliveryman pounded on his front door when no one answered the doorbell. A concerned, next-door neighbor watched to see what the deliveryman was going to do.

“Maybe I should go over and get it?” he thought. He waited as Zeke who was a partially crippled, elderly man, finally answered the door. “Oh no, he is walking with a white cane. His eyesight must have become compromised.”

“I need a signature, sir,” the deliveryman said to Zeke, as the neighbor listened from his own yard.

Zeke signed for the envelope with a large ‘X’ and tried to grab the envelope.

“I need your name, sir!”  

“It’s about time you got out of here!” Zeke shouted, angrily. “You have my signature. Is that not enough?”

“May I see your identification, too?”

“There’s no privacy any more,” said Zeke, as he dug in his wallet for his senior’s card. “Invasion of privacy is a criminal offense, you know.”

“I know, sir! Thank you. I am sorry to have troubled you.”

Zeke grabbed the envelope and tossed it in the house.

“I think I had better check with Zeke and see what is in that mysterious envelope,” thought the neighbor.  

“What is delivered here is none of your business!” yelled Zeke, when he attempted to find out what was in the envelope.

“I am only trying to help,” replied the neighbor, apologetically.

“Can you give me my sight back?” Zeke retorted. “Get out of here, right now!”

Later that day, the same neighbor called an ambulance, when he realized Zeke had fallen off his front step and was unable to get up. The mysterious, white envelope was exactly where Zeke had tossed it. 

“It is an application for the ‘Home for the Blind’. I should have insisted on looking at that envelope earlier.”

“I don’t need your help!” insisted Zeke. “You are not putting me in that place."

”You have a fractured hip,” said the ambulance attendant. “We are taking you to Emergency.”

The Mysterious Doorway: The Old Mansion

“Congratulations on the purchase of your first home.” said Jonathon, an elderly, gray-haired, real-estate agent to Melanie, a young doctor setting up a clinic in their town. “That is quite an investment, but I think you will love the old mansion.”

“His hands are arthritic,” thought Melanie, as the realtor reached over to hand her a set of cast-iron keys. “Maybe he will become my first patient.”

“Expect the unexpected in that mansion.”

“I wonder what he means?” thought Melanie, smiling at him. “Perhaps you’ll come over later for a glass of wine?”

“What is this key for?” The old-fashioned, rusty key was unlike the others and looked like the key to a wall cabinet or cupboard.        

“I don’t know,” replied the realtor, looking away from her. “Maybe there's a mysterious doorway in the attic?”

“That could prove interesting. Thanks for all of your help, Jonathon. See you later.”

The realtor nodded, but did not speak. 

The hair stood on the back of Melanie’s neck stood up as if she had received a warning.   

“What does he know?” she wondered, as she drove to the mansion. The huge, oak front door creaked like an old coffin, when she opened it. “This place is dark and needs airing out.”

Melanie left the front door wide open.

“It's dusty in here, too. This living room is so elegant. I suspect the Victorian furniture has been here ever since the place was constructed. It will have to do for now.” Melanie pulled the heavy drapes open, tied them back and turned on an old radio that stood at the far end of the room. Its raspy music boomed throughout the huge mansion, but any sound seemed better than dead silence. “No television.” 

Just then, Melanie heard a door open and close. The noise it made echoed and re-echoed throughout the mansion, above the sound of the music.

“Is this place haunted? I think I may have the key to that doorway. Maybe it is time to launch an investigation?”

Just then, the front door slammed shut.

The Mysterious Caller: Matilda's Friend

“Matilda might be missing?” said the police officer. “She has a mysterious caller?”

“We see him regularly,” said Barth, a city transit driver, who was growing increasingly concerned about her whereabouts. “Bernie and I do the evening run, seven days a week. That man is in and out of her place almost every evening. He takes the bus to her condominium and catches the last bus, at midnight.”

“Others on the bus have seen this caller too?” continued the police officer. “And Matilda is about fifty-five, you say?”

No one suspected anything was wrong, until Barth realized that no one had seen Matilda for a long time. They assumed the mysterious caller was Matilda’s friend.

“He always wears a black leather cap, jacket, jeans and boots. He carries a black leather backpack, too,” said Bernie. “We would have captured him on the video camera had we suspected something was wrong.”

“Do you think Matilda is being robbed?” asked Barth.

“She might be,” replied the police officer. “Do you know who her relatives might be, or where they live?”

“If she has any they never come to visit her.”

“But, we only work evenings,” replied Bernie, apologetically.  

“It may not be too late to catch him,” suggested Barth. “It's my day off. Bernie and I could make a videotape of him when he is on the bus tonight. I could sit down beside him and ask him some questions.”

“He might recognize you and suspect something was up,” responded the police officer. “I have a better idea. A plain-clothes, city transit officer will ride the bus tonight.”

That night, the plains clothes officer began to question Matilda’s mysterious caller, as soon as he entered and sat down on the bus.

“Hey, I know you. You are Matilda’s friend. How is she doing, anyhow?”

“Matilda does not like meddlers,” the man responded, angrily. He immediately stood up, pulled the cord and got off at the next bus stop. 

“You were right to be concerned,” he told Bernie. “There is something wrong.”

This time, the mysterious caller was captured on video. 

The Mysterious Messenger: To My One and Only Love

***Here is something to think about. The following articles are classified as flash fiction, as they are under 400 words and have a surprise ending.

“This love note is the last thing I expected to receive tonight,” said Dwayne to himself. “Who on earth dropped it off in our mailbox?” It appeared that Dwayne had a suitor, but he had no idea who it might be. His heart skipped a beat. “Whoever this is sounds really serious.”

Dwayne had just come home after band practice, where they had been preparing for the holiday parade. He put his trombone away, made a cup of hot chocolate and turned on the television, just as the eleven o’clock news came on.   

“A mysterious messenger has been delivering love notes to mailboxes in the Bartley Street area,” the news reporter stated. “To date, at least twenty-seven people have received them. They all say the same thing, “To my one and only love.”

“That is our area. This message is a hoax, not something meant especially for me! This mysterious messenger has to be off his or her rocker!”

“Anyone who has received one of these love notes is asked to contact the local police department, immediately,” the reporter continued. “It appears that this mysterious messenger may be targeting young teenage girls and boys.”

“I’m not that young,” thought Dwayne. “I am sixteen.”

“Everyone under the age of sixteen is asked to stay off the street after eleven pm, on the holiday weekend. 

This is not a mandatory curfew, but it may become one if it appears there is a sexual predator in the area. Young teens should be under parental supervision, or only go out in pairs. Do not go out alone. Report anything or anyone who appears suspicious immediately.”

Dwayne stood up and looked out the window.

Suddenly, he a horrible thought occurred to him.

“What if the messenger intended this love note for my younger sister? Where is she anyhow?” Dwayne 

started to get worried. “Dad, Mom, why did you choose this holiday weekend to go away?”

“I had better report this love note,” Dwayne decided, picking up his cell phone. “I’ll alert the police that my sister should have been home by now, too.”

Just then, there was a knock at the door.