Fantastic Reality

A couple of weeks ago, in my post "Spring," I lamented the fact that I didn't know how to post some of my awesome stories that I've written because they were just too long. Maddie made the comment that I should post them in sections, and I think that's a great idea. I'm going to start off with some of the stories I've written for my English classes.

This story is actually just a scene, not a full story. The assignment was to write a realistic scene that contained some fantastical element. I don't want to ruin the story, so I'm afraid that's all the background info that you get today. Enjoy!

My hand was on the doorknob when my dad came out of the kitchen, calling my name. I sighed and turned around to face him, but I left my fingers on the doorknob, just to show him that I had no real intention of staying for very long. He stood in the hallway with his shoulders hunched and his hands shoved in his pockets, and his uncomfortable stance made me shift in anticipation. Mom was breathing down his neck about something, that was for sure, and it was clear that that something had to do with me. I thought back over my recent grades, but the only thing I could think of was the B- that I had received on my last History test. I smiled and lifted my books encouragingly.

“Listen, Dad, I was just about to go study for History. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Can this wait until then? I have a major test coming up.”

“Are you going down to the duck pond?”

“Well, yeah. James said he would help me.” When Dad wouldn’t look me in the eye, I knew it was really serious. Then Mom appeared in the kitchen doorway. She just stood there, leaning against the doorjamb, with her arms folded and staring at my dad. Dad and I looked over at her, and we both gave a little gulp. She nodded slowly to my dad, and he turned back to me.

“Your mother and I would like to talk with you in the kitchen.” I opened my mouth to protest, but my mother cut me off with a glance.

“Abigail, we need to speak to you in the kitchen. Now,” she snapped. She didn’t even wait to hear my response; she just turned on her shiny black heels and clicked her way back into the kitchen. Dad shrugged and slumped in after my mother. After a moment alone in the hallway, I finally gave up and went to join them. I considered slamming my books, or tossing my chair around, but soon gave up on the idea. Mom was ice cold today, and if I acted out it would only prolong the agony before I could get down to James and the duck pond. I just sat down and addressed Dad.

“So, what do we need to talk about? If this is about my History grades, I just want you to know that I’m working on it, and I promise that I’ll have an A by the end of the year.”

“This isn’t about your grades, sweetie. We actually wanted to discuss the duck pond and your friend James. We think…we think it’s time you stopped going down there.” He said this last in a rush, and he looked down at his fingers. I sat back, not really understanding what he was hinting at.