Amateur writer: I've been working as a freelance writer for the past few months. These are some of my works of fiction.
Just like Ray
In a tiny room, capable of holding no more than a small bed and a plastic portable closet, Rob is surrounded by various magazine and newspaper cuttings of the music icon, Ray Charles. One, in particular, of the Icon leaning on a Grand Piano, his left hand pressed to his left cheek and the right gently resting on the keyboard appears to be his favorite judging from how well it has been framed and maintained.
What sounds like a conversation developing in the living room quickly escalates into a heated argument between Mr. and Mrs. Robinson.
As has been the case over the past few months, the boy can only fixate on his cuttings - The only means of a brief escape from the madness that has taken root in what could at one time have been described as a loving household.
Rob!? She loudly calls the boy after several curse words close the curtain to an otherwise short-lived, but heated argument.
Rob!!!? She calls a second time with a tone suggestive of consequences should she be forced to call him for the third time
Without much of an option, the boy sluggishly opens the door and makes his way to the living room - his face almost glowing with relief when he notices his father's absence
Here, sit... She intervenes before Mrs. Robinson has a chance to further vent out her frustration.
Rob takes a seat next to his Grandmother as she inspects his face and smiles - She has become his refuge.
Meanwhile, the clearly irritated Mrs. Robinson heads to the kitchen and emerges with a bowl of rice (To go with the beef stew (and potatoes) already set on the table): no dining room here
Get some glasses, baby. She instructs the boy as she starts serving dinner for three – Trying her best to be civil
Man with a High Pitched voice
The three have dinner with little exchanges here and there, mostly from the Grandmother.
Here, have some more... She urges the boy, steadily pushing the bowl of stew in his direction once she notices that he is about to empty his plate
Noo, Granma. I'm full. He retorts as soon as he swallows the last spoonful of soup from his plate
C'mon... She tries to press him, just a little more
Rob shakes his head to affirm his stand on the matter; All the while rubbing on his tummy. A gesture that causes the Grandmother to chuckle as Mrs. Robinson gently shakes her head with a growing smile- Both amused by the boy's peculiar behavior
This moment is immediately interrupted by two shy knocks on the door - A bit unusual at this hour, but not uncommon
Mrs. Robinson sets her plate on the table and heads to the door as Rob and the Grandmother direct their eyes in the same direction with anticipation
Sup Mrs. Robinson. ’s Michael home? A man with a high-pitched voice can be heard asking as soon as she opens the door - The safety latch in place
She immediately slams and locks the door upon recognizing the two.
Visibly infuriated, Mrs. Robinson starts pacing between the front door and the kitchen before marching to the living room and straight to her seat - Rob and Grandmother turn their attention to the television; fully aware that this has something to do with the father; regardless, no one will dare ask her about it.
Just like Ray
Mrs. Robinson starts stacking the empty dishes together as soon as Grandmother empties her plate
Get granny's pills. She instructs the boy as she takes some of the dishes to the kitchen.
Right there, baby. Grandmother points to a small wooden cabinet to the left of the television once it becomes evident that the boy is having some difficulty locating them.
Oh... He responds and proceeds to collect them.
Mrs. Robinson returns with a fresh glass of water and carefully places it on the table before returning to the kitchen with the rest of the dishes.
Having identified the right pills - In two small plastic pink and yellow vials - Rob returns to his seat and hands them over
Thank you, dear. She lauds the boy as she closely inspects one of the vials
Oh my! She exclaims... there must be over 100 pills in here. She comments - looking to engage the boy; she's always been exceptionally good at it
Rob turns his attention to the vial; giggling at the idea of so many pills fitting in such a small container. Noo Granma, a hundred pills would never fit in there. It's too small. He explains
Oh, no, no! She insists and passes him the vial. Here, you look. There must be at least 100 in there...
Rob takes the vial and audibly tries to count the pills. This, however, is interrupted by a somewhat forceful rattling doorknob.
Almost certain of who is working the doorknob, the boy momentarily thinks of retreating to his room, but immediately decides against it- Moving closer to his Grandmother instead
It's OK, honey! She reassures him - Patting him on the back
Mr. Robinson finally opens the door and makes his entrance - followed by the two men. He motions them to wait at the porch, but they will not budge: He hasn't any authority over them it seems.
Get the bag, man! One of the men commands Mr. Robinson with a soft but threatening tone as he nods at the boy and the Grandmother in the living room.
The other, with an oversized jacket and peculiar way about him, merely leans on the wall adjacent to the front door inspecting parts of the house with his beady eyes
© 2021 Kimani Maruge