Welcome to the Spot Writers. The prompt for this month is to use the following five words in a story: candy, whistle, ferry, ring, and kitchen. This week’s contribution is by Kathy L. Price.
She blew into the candy whistle again and again, enjoying the high-pitched sound as well as the delicious taste. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend to hear the seagulls and smell the salty air of the sound.
“Kathy,” her mother called from the kitchen. “Stop that or I’ll take it away from you. Have you finished your homework yet?”
Kathy quit blowing into the whistle but kept it in her mouth, savoring the sweet, cherry flavor. It wasn’t long before the candy had dissolved so much there was no whistle left. That was a huge disappointment because she’d been pretending she was riding on the big ferry which carried them across the water from Fort Myers to the islands. Daydreaming about sunny skies, warm sun, and sand between her toes was a lot more fun than doing math homework.
The two weeks they spent on Sanibel and Captiva every summer, barrier islands off the west coast of Florida, were the absolute best of the whole year. She got to play on the beach every day. She got to see real live dolphins swimming in the ocean; collect perfect, pretty shells which were just lying all over the sand; wade in the water and pretend she was a mermaid. She knew when she was old enough, she was going to get a job at Weeki Wachee Springs and be a real mermaid. Mermaids didn’t need to know anything at all about math. Or maybe she’d be a water skier at Cypress Gardens. There were so many possibilities.
The years passed and the dreams changed. A bridge was built to connect Sanibel Island to the mainland and the ferry service was discontinued. At fourteen, Kathy and her family moved to California, a long, long way from Weeki Wachee Springs. College graduation, marriage, and children of her own changed the course of her life. Many years later, when her little boy blew into his candy whistle, she remembered the ferry and the childhood dreams long dead. She didn’t tell him to stop. She let him blow his whistle for as long as he wanted.
The Spot Writers – our members.
Catherine A. MacKenzie