The prompt for this exercise was that it had to include: a fanatic sailor, a roller-skate, and a swimming pool
Dr. Spears approached the mansion on a sunny day. The building was massive and solid, made of cement-stuccoed block which made it look more like a cluster of warehouses than a family dwelling. Appropriate, since his new patient’s family had left him after his delusions had nearly drowned the youngest child.
The front door opened as he neared it, creaking loudly, to reveal a short, balding young man wearing shirts and a t-shirt. He offered his hand to Spears, the one that wasn’t holding the rusted roller-skate.
“Dr. Spears?” They shook hands. “Welcome. First visit, sir?”
“Indeed,” said the doctor, mopping his forehead dry with a large cotton handkerchief. He began looking through his notes.
“Joseph Farmouth. I’m the nurse’s aide.”
“Has the patient been medicated today?”
“He has, sir,” said Joseph. “but it doesn’t help much. That’s why nurse Finney asked that you come to see him.”
“Okay,” said Spears, still reading his notes. “James Kilmer, 42. Classic PTSD. He served as a younger man, didn’t he?”
“Navy, sir, in the last war. His ship went down and he lost all his men but one, other than himself. He’s sort of…well, never stopped serving, sir.”
“What do you mean by that?” The answer came in the form of a bellow. Spears looked out the back where there was a swimming pool in the center of which was a small inflatable boat, a child’s toy. James Kilmer bellowed again from inside it.
“Helper Joe! Hoist the mainsail!”
“Coming, Captain,” Joseph yelled back. He gave Spears an apologetic glance. “It’s easier to just go along with it,” he said.
“Helper Joe! Report!”
Spears watched Joseph walk toward the pool and leave his flip-flops on the side. “Dare I ask what the roller-skate is for?” the doctor asked Joseph’s back.
“Sextant, sir,” the aide said, jumping into the water.
***
Here, the writing prompt was: ‘We held hands’
The jeep was unsalvageable after the crash. Jessica despaired. They were never going to make it on time. If they didn’t get the straw crown to the king of the Silone tribe by sunup, her sister would be sacrificed to ensure the benevolence of the god the Silone prayed to.
“We’ll never make it,” she said.
“We must try,” said Derek putting out his hand. She looked at his face, now encouraging when he’d done nothing but complain about having to guide her through the jungle during the rainy season.
She wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. They were lucky to be alive. She put her hand in his, concentrating on the contraction of the muscles of his forearm as he pulled her out of the ravine. One of her sandals got stuck in the mud and she stepped out of it. Derek reached down for it and handed it to her; her face was a sea of tears.
“We’ll get there,” he said.
“How can you be so sure?” Jessica was starting to lose it. She was grasping the ridiculous crown of straw in her free hand. This piece of garbage was what her sister’s life depended on. She didn’t know how long they had until dawn and she didn’t want to know.
“I’m sure,” said Derek, “because you’re the most stubborn woman I’ve ever known.” He was raising his voice. “You’ve been a pain in the ass every step of the way. I never would have brought you here otherwise. Through the jungle. In tribal territory. In a rainstorm. But you made me do it through your refusal to take ‘no’ for an answer.”
Jessica stared at him.
“Now, let’s go get your sister,” he said pulling her forward.
