Yoked
Flash Fiction Written During Keyboard Catharsis Sessions
Note: Once a month I moderate writing sessions at Passenger Recovery Community Center in Hamtramck, Michigan aimed at getting people to express themselves through writing without fear.
Yoked was written during today’s session.
The Bicentennial essay contest won Jack Lorter a trip to Philadelphia, which was mostly three days of escaping the wandering hands of his stepfather only to develop a crush on the stern but statuesque chaperone from Wonnacot Elementary.
Miss Bridewell seemed irritated that Jack loudly stated his disappointment in both the size and condition of the Liberty Bell.
The educator tried to explain that it should be viewed for historical significance and not necessarily artistic splendor as Jack’s mind didn’t wander, but sprinted to what was underneath the extremely conservative and not altogether comfortable looking tweed skirt.
They found themselves at the zoo, which held no particular interest for Jack, until he read a sign at the porcupine exhibit apologizing for the fact that the animal was predominantly nocturnal.
Jack demanded that the group of young winning essayists be allowed to return to the zoo after dark, sounding far more like a dissatisfied citizen at a council meeting about basement zoning variances than a thirteen year old boy with hormones like an unbasketed cobra slithering on a stone.
When the bus pulled back into the Wonnacot parking lot, Phyllis Bridewell took Donald Currigan aside and informed him that his stepson Jack could probably use some professional help for his outbursts, though she did find them to be intelligent and well-crafted.
Donald, as was his nature, responded to the extremely discreet conversation by yelling.
“Kid won a damn contest. Don’t wreck it by telling me he has behavior issues.”
Jack, pulling his suitcase from the bay of the bus, shook from the base of his spine until his tongue went numb.
He turned and glared at his mother’s husband.
He wanted to tell Miss Bridewell about the man’s behavior.
He wanted to do it here, now, yell it, in front of everyone.
Jack Lorter felt like there was a bell in his throat that wouldn’t chime, and a porcupine in his home: a nocturnal creature whose spines he didn’t ever care to touch.
***
Oh man. Some kids have to go through some serious shit. "A bell in his throat that wouldn't chime."
A cracked bell can still ring. My money is on Jack for the win.
By the way, Jimmy, kudos to you for paying it forward at the Passenger Community Center.
I feel for Jack.
Hopefully, he is able to talk to someone responsible before his life is further wrecked.