A short story incorporating three random words, written in 20 minutes.
by Marcus Jonathan Chapman
Through the peep hole, all I could see was that big blue window into her soul. I smiled and knocked again. She opened the door but the chain kept the door open just a crack. Maybe she didn’t recognize me. Maybe I had the wrong house. Then her head peaked through the crack.
I smiled a little wider this time.
“Hi, it’s me.”
She only stared. Not saying anything. I could hear the sounds of a house full of living. Pots, pans, yelling kids, a TV.
“Is this a bad time.”
“What are you doing here?”
Now the words caught in my throat. I folded my hands behind my back and cleared the uncertainty welling up.
“Well, I wanted to be the first to tell you that I got that movie made. It was purchased and now there’s some director looking for actors and…well, I just wanted to tell you. You were always so supportive of that.”
She looked at me. Then closed the door. I heard something scratching and then the door opened all the way. She stepped onto the porch, shutting the door behind her. It took every ounce of social conditioning and domestication that had been thrown my way to not instantly through my arms around her shoulders and pull her head into my chest.
She crossed her arms slowly and then looked up at me.
“You couldn’t have called or texted?”
My cheeks flushed. I knew she could see that.
“I’m sorry, you’re right, this isn’t fair of me.”
“No, look, I think it’s great. That’s what you’ve always wanted. It sounds like you’re on your way to something great.”
I knew she was just extending a guilty hand. I looked around the yard and spotted chains and a lock on the lids of their trash cans.
“So you keep a pretty tight lid on your trash now, huh?”
“What?” She looked where my gaze held then laughed. That sweet laugh. “Oh, yes, well we have some pretty tenacious little bandits that dig around and spread it out every night if we don’t.”
She uncrossed her arms but took a half step backward.
“I’m sorry, again, I should have called, I just thought it would be cool for you to know when the trailers came out and stuff. You’d see them on TV and know who made the movie.”
She looked at me for what seemed like a full moon cycle. It was only a few seconds before she spoke but I could see that familiar glint, somewhere buried back behind her new life.
“Well, it’s just that, it’s hard to see…”
Another pause. I knew what she was going to say, something to the effect of it’s hard to see me but it wouldn’t work, it never worked. Despite what I thought to the contrary.
“Alright, well it sounds like you’re busy in there with the little ones. I just wanted you to know and now you do. It was great to see you.”
“It was great to see you too.”
I turned to go down the steps. She turned to go back inside.
I thought about the most memorable people in history. The presidents, kings, bishops, popes, captains, outlaws, revolutionaries and wondered how their greatness was shaped. I wondered if they didn’t have their own broken hearts and so turned the world into their anvils, beating it into the shapes that suited their desires.
As I got to the gate, she yelled out to me.
“Hey, I’m gonna see your movie the day it comes out.”
I smiled and thought about an empty theater playing my movie with only her big beautiful eyes to watch it.