Short story / Uncategorized / writing

Improvisation is Maximization

For those of you who read the previous post, I’m sorry it ended so abruptly. WordPress doesn’t seem to work well with library computers and the To Be Continued I put in was cut off. I edited it back in now. Anyways, the story continues!

Mrs.Ymes smiled, but she didn’t look look like she completely believed Jenna. Holding the milk bag Jenna ran back to her house and entered through the backyard. 

Jenna’s mother, Katelyn, sat alone in the living room. She could think clearer now that the tears have stopped flowing from her eyes. She knew that she was a wreck, allowing her daughter to take care of her when she broke down. The situation seemed hopeless no matter how she looked at it. When money is a problem the richer player wins, and the Sand Org were a very wealthy organization.

Katelyn reached for the television remote with a shaking hand. She turned on the television. There was a festival of some sort happening downtown. The weather network said there was no rain today. Global News was talking about a war somewhere, she didn’t know.

Jenna came out of the kitchen. She was holdling a bowl of cereal. She gave it to Katelyn.

“Here, momma!” she said. Katelyn took the bowl and stared blankly at the television screen. Jenna ran back into the kitchen and returned holding a bowl of cereal for herself. She hopped onto the sofa next to her mother.

“Momma? Can I pick the show?” she asked. Katelyn gave her the remote control. Jenna flipped the channel to a children’s network and ate her cereal. Katelyn looked at the TV screen, not really knowing what she was watching. The two sat together for a while, eating the cereal. Jenna’s eyes moved to her mother every now and then. She saw that her mother was thinking un happy thoughtd, she could see from her face. She had become familiar with that expression over the last two years. At first, these quiet moments were worse than when her mother cried. It was painful knowing that there were things your mother didn’t tell you that would upset her that much. But soon, when the silence became more frequent and lasted longer and longer, Jenna became accustomed to it, it became preferable to when she cried.

“Jenna, honey,” Katelyn said, after a long while. Jenna looked up at her mother.

“Jenna, do you have any homework to do?” Katelyn asked. Jenna shook her head.

“Well then, there’s a celebration going on downtown,” said Katelyn.

“I know, Mrs. Ymes told me.” Jenna said. Then she remembered, her mother wasn’t supposed to know about that.

“Did she?” luckily for Jenna her mother didn’t notice anything wrong.

“Yes, yesterday.” Jenna said quickly.

“Well, do you want to go?” her mother asked. Jenna looked up at her mother’s face. There wasn’t much joy or excitement in her expression so Jenna believed she didn’t want to go. But Jenna remembered going to festivals before. The town was always filled with performers and amazing sights. There was eating, and games to play. Festivals were fun, and Jenna remembered her mother laughing at one they went together.

“Yes Momma, I’d love to go!” Jenna said. Katelyn smiled at Jenna, but her smile was shallow. She got up.

“We’ll go in a second. I’ll go pack a backpack,” she said, and walked to the kitchen. Perhaps it would be nice to visit the festival for a little while. Make Jenna happy.  Tears were flowing again, and she knew Jenna didn’t like to see her cry.

*****

 There was much traffic on the road entering Closetknit Town. One of the vehicles stuck in the traffic was a privately owned RV making its way to the city. It was a rather large RV with large windows that if one looked through would see a complete kitchen and sleeping quarters. One side of the RV had the words “Do You Believe in Magic?” painted on it. In the RV was a tall black haired man, the driver. He was frustrated with the traffic. He had actually begun his journey to this city a week ago, after securing a location to perform at the Closetknit Festival. However, he was just arriving now because he and his son had thought it would be a good idea to do a few street performing gigs on the way in the cities they passed by. Now they had to endure this long traffic disaster.

Said son was in the sleeping quarters of the RV. To be fair, he was fairly comfortable in the traffic thanks to the spacious RV. The boy was around eight or so years old. He had blonde hair, blue eyes, and was relatively short. He sat up on his bunk and read hardcover book on his lap. The book had strange writing on the cover and a piece of cellulose tape on it. Written on the tape was the words “Candiler’s book, do not read”. The boy looked towards his father in the driver’s seat.

 “Dad?” he said, “are we near Closeknit yet?”

“Near? Yes. Getting there? I don’t think so,” his father said. “You can see the border if you look out the window.”

“Really?” The boy poked his head out the tallest window in the RV. He could see the city close, covered with cars coming in. It seemed like a high density traffic.

“You know dad,” the boy said, “If you don’t want to drive in this traffic, I could just-”

“No Candiler, we are not doing that!” the man said firmly. He looked out the window. the RV moved at a turtle’s pace.

At the rate they were driving,it would probably be another two hours before they even made it to the town. The father looked at the car clock. it was nearly noon.

Candiler flipped a page. He had read through around two pages of his book since the traffic started. It doesn’t seem like an impressive amount, but the book Candiler held was special, with impossibly small font. It usually took an hour to finish a page. Suddenly, Candiler heard music. It was rap music, his father’s least favorite variety of sound. Candiler dared say it was one of his father’s least favourite nouns. He smiled knowingly at his father’s back.

The rap music was louder. The car that played it was a convertible with the volume raised to maximum. Candiler watched his father remain stoically focused on the road. For a few moments, it seemed that he wasn’t going to give in, but Candiler noticed the increase in times his father’s head shifted to face the clock. A telltale sign of irritation.

At last he gave up. “Fine, you win Candiler,” he said “Do your thing.”

Candiler smiled and waved his finger around lazily. From the outside of the RV the traffic was great. After a minute, a large space appeared in the middle of the traffic, large enough that an RV could have fit in it. For some reason, nobody noticed anything wrong.

*****

“Jenna, I’m waiting,” said Katelyn. Jenna came running down the stairs. 

“You forgot to pack me a thermos, mom.” Jenna said. She put on her shoes. Katelyn looked out the  window. 

“Let’s Go!” Jenna said. And then they were off.

[To Be continued! Let’s say…two posts from now? Sure]

And that was mostly improvised. I hope nobody was thrown off by the sudden change of genre in this story. Bye now! Until next time

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