Please Don't Throw Tomatoes

     I am so sorry to hear about DL's baking fiasco, although it was honestly quite entertaining to read about...
      Like DL, I've read The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (1 and 2) but I haven't seen the movies, and I'm mad! I want to see the first one at least!
     Well, today I'm going to do something a little out of the ordinary and that is post a short story. I know that DL is the short story/poetry blogger, but I don't have anything to talk about today and I've been considering doing this for a while, so I'm going to go ahead and do it. I entered this 750 word short story into a Writer's Digest competition a few months ago. The prompt was to write a 750 word or fewer short story with the beginning sentence being, "If you can guess what I have in my pocket, you can have it." I didn't win, or even get in the top ten, but that's okay. I can still force the Internet to read it through this gem of a blog. ;) Well, here goes.

"If you can guess what I have in my pocket, you can have it," Mateusz says, a half-smirk stuck to his face.

                  I keep my arms crossed and tap my dirty shoe against the ground. A barbed wire fence separates me from Mateusz. It slices his grey eyes in half. I narrow mine at him and say,

                  "How do you know I'll want it?"

                  Mateusz smiles.

                  "Zaufaj mi," he says. "Trust me."

                  I shift my gaze from Mateusz's split-in-half eyes to his hand, shoved into his trouser pocket.

                  "Candy?" I guess half-heartedly.

                  Normally I wouldn't dare to even hope, but Mateusz has forced me to play his game.

                  He shakes his head.

                  I shrug.

                  "I don't know."

                  "Guess again," he urges.

                  But there's no time. Shouting in the distance. We have to go.

                  "Tomorrow!" Mateusz calls over his shoulder as we run in opposite directions.

                  I catch up with Alicja. As we hurry towards the yelling, she whispers to me, "Someone stole something."

                  Alicja is thirteen, four years older than I am. She's always calling me siostra- little sister. I don't mind. She reminds me of Irena, my real sister.

                  When we reach the source of the shouting, I lean closer to Alicja.

                  "What did they take?"

                  She shakes her head and shrugs.

                  The czarownica- the witch - is screaming and spitting. Globs of foam roll out of her mouth as she accuses us of stealing a loaf of bread. I imagine on the boys’ side of the fence they're being accused of the same. I know it wasn't me, and I know it wasn't Alicja. She would never do something so stupid.

                  And then I think of Mateusz. His pocket. He is stupid enough. He would do it. He'd take a hunk to the fence; tell me to guess what was in his pocket. He'd leave the loaf somewhere everyone could see.

                  "Idiota, Mateusz, idiota," I whisper.

                  "What did you say?"

                  The czarownica spits the words into my face.

                  I had breathed out the three words precisely when the witch paused in her tirade to heave air in through her blubbery lips.

                  I stare at the scabs on my feet. I don't speak.

                  "What did you say, filth? Did you steal it?!"

                  I shake my head.

                  "Answer me!" the witch spews, striking me across the face.

                  "No."

                  My voice does not quake, nor does my body. I stand still and take it.

                  But the witch only spits in my face.

                  "You're not worth it, filthy schlampe."

                  I wait until she is gone before wiping the spit from my face.

                  "You okay, siostra?" Alicja murmurs as we start back to work.

                  "I'm fine."

                  Alicja squeezes my arm before we part.

                  I imagine what Mateusz will look like when I see him again. If I see him again. Only then do I allow myself the littlest shiver.

                                                               *                  *                  *

                  The next day, the sky is the color of overused bathwater. I look over my shoulder before scurrying to the fence. Mateusz isn't there.

                  I feel each second tick away in the pit of my stomach. I know I can't wait any longer. I have to go. I'm going to get caught.

                  But I stay. It's my fault if he's dead. He got the bread for me. I get to pay for it.

                  I slump down in the dirt and grab the wire.

                  "Nadzieja?"

                  It is a small voice that comes from above me.

                  I look up. Mateusz watches me, one hand in his pocket.

                  I let go of the barbs and stand. Mateusz gestures to his unmarred face. The welt on my cheek.

                  "The czarwonica," I answer.

                  "I'm sorry."

                  "It's nothing."

                  Mateusz's face alights and he pulls out his dirt-darkened fist.

                  "You'll never guess."

                  "You didn't steal it, did you?" I whisper, "The bread?"

                  Mateusz laughs and whispers back,

                  "Only an idiota would steal a whole loaf."                  
                   I smile despite myself.

                  "What is it then?"

                  "Close your eyes."

                  "Why?"

                  "Zaufaj mi."

                  I glare at Mateusz but close my eyes.

                  "Hold out your hand."

                  I reach out my palm until it grazes the fence. I feel something feather-light touch my skin and open my eyes.

                  I let out a hiccup of surprise.

                  "Where did you find it?" I ask, tracing the clover.

                  "Just outside the fence," Mateusz says.

                  I can hear the pride in his voice.

                  It's not just any clover. It's a four-leaf.

                  "Thank you," I say.

                  Through the wire, my copper eyes meet Mateusz's steel eyes and I smile.

So yeah, that's it.

Day 119 Song Recommendation: "Lover Is Childlike" by The Low Anthem. Another beautiful song from The Hunger Games soundtrack.

So I've been wondering... what kind of music have you been wishing I would recommend? I know that I'm basically just asking AB and DL, but I want to know. I know that I like the songs I recommend, but what about you guys? Do they make your ears bleed? Do they bore you to tears? Are the videos distracting? Do you guys listen to the 8tracks? Let me know in the comments.
-SE Wagner