Bring On Lemons

It's been a while since I wrote much of anything...so be gentle with your critiques but please leave some feedback. I'm considering using this piece for an upcoming flash fiction contest. Hugs, ~Crystal Boxes By Crystal J. Casavant-Otto I didn’t read the directions as carefully as I should have, but nonetheless the lifeless plastic stick is lying flat on the vanity in front of me. I’m still sitting on the toilet with my pants around my ankles. Yup, leader of our church youth group, preacher’s kid, most likely to friggin’ succeed. No one would suspect I’d be worried about anything sexual, much less teen pregnancy. Daddy is one thin wall away. He’s working on his fire and brimstone sermon. (I can hear the tap tap tapping of the pencil while he ponders just the right words to say.) If only he knew. This is seriously the longest three minutes of my life. Wipe. Flush. Wash. Wash again. This hand soap stinks; what was my mom thinking? Dry. Close lid. Check teeth. Brush teeth...

Just a few hours ago I was nestled in bed with my broad shouldered handsome husband Mark. I was warm and cozy with one hand on my tummy feeling our baby kick. It would be a few hours until the alarm went off and I remember listening as our older children tossed and made sweet noises in their sleep. I was thinking about how the next few months would fly by and soon we would have three little people in our home. Just as I was rolling my pregnant self over, my cell phone rang. I looked at the time: 2:32am and then noticed the caller identification "unknown". I'm an only child so I couldn't just ignore the call. After all, what if my mother was in ICU or there had been a terrible accident? "Hello?" I slurred into the phone. "This is Officer McGregory from Brown County PD. Is this Crystal Bennet?" asked the gruff voice on the other end of the line. "I haven't been Crystal Bennet in over a decade, but yes - this is Crystal. What can I do f...

This is possibly the final draft for the genre contest - any last minute feedback? I stretched as I stood up from my seat on the small aircraft owned by The Manitowoc Company. I was accustomed to the short flights between Michigan and Wisconsin. This particular flight was a bit longer and I was cramped and uncomfortable. I was eager to sit down with my older brother and tell him about my upcoming date with the pretty, young, girl from the greasy spoon. We had arranged it before I left and I hadn’t had time to share the news. I grabbed my things off the plane, thanked pilot Joe and headed for my car. I opened the heavy door of my 1972 Chevelle SS. She was the first automobile I had purchased new and the smell of leather hit my nose immediately bringing a smile to my face. She was ascott blue with white wall tires and a she didn’t blow smoke or rattle down the road like the cars I’d had before her. I had worked for The Manitowoc Company for a decade and last year they went publ...

Genre Contest - Take II (and now we have a name)...what do you think? I stretched as I stood up from my seat on the small aircraft owned by The Manitowoc Company. I was accustomed to the short flights between Michigan and Wisconsin. This particular flight was a bit longer and I was cramped and uncomfortable. I was eager to sit down with my older brother and tell him about my upcoming date with the pretty, young, girl from the greasy spoon. We had arranged it before I left and I hadn’t had time to share the news. I grabbed my things off the plane, thanked pilot Joe and headed for my car. I opened the heavy door of my 1972 Chevelle SS. She was the first automobile I had purchased new and the smell of leather hit my nose immediately bringing a smile to my face. She was ascott blue with white wall tires and a she didn’t blow smoke or rattle down the road like the cars I’d had before her. I had worked for The Manitowoc Company for a decade and last year they went public. I didn’t ...

I finished this short story a few days ago (in a notebook with a pen - specifically a fine point pen, because they're so much nicer to write with) and it just took a while to get it polished up enough for the blog. I'll be showing it to my writer's group next week which will mean even more changes and hopefully it will be my next submission - and the winning submission I hope - for an upcoming flash fiction contest. Please share your thoughts on the blog, or with a private message/email. Thank you as always for your support! "Honey, are you sure you're feeling okay?" "YES. Why do you keep asking?" "Oh...no reason really...you just don't seem yourself." ...silence... ...furnace kicks in with a whirrr... ....plip...plop...the faucet must be leaking again... The same conversation that always leaves the room feeling large and empty. I imagine that most couples start the day with a good morning kiss or enduring exchange. We did...

a little flash fiction for this brisk Wisconsin evening - enjoy "May your paths be abundantly filled with lemons, sugar, sunshine, and explanations you can grow from." ~Crystal Eyes Wide Open How one question explained an entire childhood and helped me realize what I didn’t want… I remember spending a lot of time with Dad when I was growing up. He taught me about things he enjoyed – gardening, reading, cooking, and he instilled in me a great love of nature and the outdoors. Mom is in my memories but not in an active role. I can see her sitting on the couch knitting, but I don’t remember DOING anything with her. There was arguing about what I would wear to school, and I remember Mom forbidding me to wear lipstick, hair spray, or perfume…but as much as I try to, I don’t remember shopping trips, baking cookies, school field trips, or anything with Mom. They’re both gone now and there are a handful of photographs showing Dad and I (in the sandbox, at the beach, ...

I remember thinking that I just needed a little more green paint. That was right before I felt the tingle at the base of my spine. It felt like someone was watching me as I painted. I turned to check my surroundings and nearly tripped over a very large man with gorgeous green eyes. He was attractive, but I was annoyed and gave him a look to tell him as much. He smiled and gave me a nod before walking away. I had been commissioned to paint a mermaid on a yacht. I had done that, and more…I created a topless mermaid with black hair, hazel eyes, full breasts, and a tail that reminded me of the ocean. She was a permanent resident of the vessel they called Obsession; the yacht was a 300 some foot Lurssen whose owners were paying me a handsome sum to paint her. I didn’t ask questions. After the first ten hour day working on her, I decided to give her a name. I called her Claire Aslin meaning bright future. Claire and I shared many moments together during the three weeks it took me to ge...

Chilly Friday afternoons in Wisconsin seem to bring out my imagination - so here's a little flash fiction to start your weekend off. Enjoy - and may your paths be abundantly filled with lemons, sugar, sunshine, and friends who understand you. ~Crystal I Get It “I get it Michael; I’ll see you in a few days.” I grumbled into the phone before slamming it down on the desk. The husband with the growing empire, I get it…he had a business to run and things that needed his attention in Florida. In the meantime, here I am, stuck in Wisconsin’s Northwood’s for another weekend alone. Good thing he bought me a nice house on the lake and a boat so I could enjoy myself with absolutely no one to talk to for days at a time. I slammed my coffee cup on the counter and rolled my eyes as the tears streamed down my cheeks. Good thing we are three hours away from my friends and family. I decided to take a walk. We really did have a beautiful home, and I really liked Rhinelander. I thought a...

I'm not in love with this...but I'm also not feeling well at all. I am trying to write a flash fiction piece that is good enough for the fall flash fiction contest and I thought 'first date' would be a great idea...and it has to be 750 words or less... I really need some feedback on it - love it or lump it? Vibrant Her headline on Christian Mingle was “Vibrant Teacher Seeks Great Communicator” – I remember rolling my eyes. Why would I even bother putting myself out there, much less with someone ‘vibrant’? I was picturing someone way too pretty for someone like me. For some reason I clicked the profile anyway. Yup, another dead end…she wasn’t just pretty. She was way out of my league. A cheerleader coach and an ex-cheerleader, flowing blonde hair, great smile, twinkling eyes…of course I was drawn to her. Somehow we were a match (at least according to the computer software or something). I scrolled down. Favorite actor – Kevin James Religion – Lutheran ...

A little flash fiction for this Sunday evening - enjoy (and there's  a bit of a lesson at the end if you're into that sort of thing)  ~~~~ I dug my nails into my arm hard. I was hoping to draw blood. I wanted the physical pain. They were fighting again on the other side of the door. Daddy asked me to wait outside as things escalated. He knew I would be upset and he was trying to make things seem as normal as possible. Normal? Really? Even he didn't believe that anymore. Tonight the fight began over the color of curtains. Mom asked Dad what color he thought would be nice. He chose blue and she responded by telling him how hideous blue would look. He threw his hands up in the air with a sigh "Why do you even ask? You know you couldn't care less what anyone else thinks anyway." ...and they were off... She was upset because this and he was upset about that and they dredged up all the past fights and problems of the last few decades. Truth be told he gave ...

This is a rough draft at a flash fiction piece - comments are appreciated. It needs to be shortened considerably to meet contest requirements. A Suitcase of Bitterness and Sacrifice Her favorite silk panties were in her hand. They sent a chill up her spine. The day she bought them she marched confidently into Victoria Secret with the gift card from her husband. That day she felt like a princess. Today, the panties brought her no delight. She thought about all the sacrifices she had made and every gift he gave her made her bitter. She felt dirty and alone. The lavender panties with lace details were no longer beautiful and soft in her eyes. To Veronica, they were dirty and shameful. Instead of folding them in her suitcase, she tucked them between two pairs of boxers in Charlie’s underwear drawer. “You’ll miss me you son of a bitch” …Veronica muttered… The dress she bought on the cruise they took in celebration of five years of wedded bliss. The dress weighed practically noth...