Posted in Challenges and Contests, Flash Fiction Pieces, Parenting, Story a Day May Challenge, Writers' Resources, Writing in Freedom, Writing Samples

Rainbow Sprinkles for Story A Day May; Day Ten

Public Courtesy Warning: This story has some adult language and references, and might not be suitable for work or reading where younger kids might peek over your shoulder.

“Rainbow Sprinkles”

“Tell me a story.”

Marilyn knows she’s begging. She knows she’s acting like a child, making her own sister – her younger sister – take care of her.

And it wasn’t even like Ophelia is really and truly her sister. She’s only half – because Dear Old Daddy couldn’t keep it the hell in his pants or boardshorts, or whatever the hell it was they wore in fucking Hawaii, where he’d told Mom he had “business” – but the “business” turned out to be putting his into Ophelia’s Mom’s, even though he was already married and had a little girl he pretty much ignored…

Maybe Ophelia needs to pay for that. Maybe it’s only fair.

Maybe Marilyn doesn’t even care.

“Tell me a story!” She demands it this time.

“What kind of story?” Ophelia sounds so damned sweet, but it was her who took Dear Old Dad away from her. And Mom, too. What Marilyn is now – that’s her fault. If she’d never been born, Mom never would have known.

Life would be perfect.

“One that’s sweet and romantic and has a happy ending.” If she can’t get perfect one way, she’ll get it another.

“All right….let me think….okay, there’s this girl on the beach. She’s young – your age, I guess. Maybe a little younger. Say between you and me. She’s happy – she’s just out of school for the summer, and she got really good grades. She’s got two weeks off before she starts her summer job, and she’s going to meet a friend on the beach for ice cream cones, something they do the last day every year.”

Ophelia stops, her eyes closed. Marilyn can’t tell if she’s making it up, remembering something she’s heard about, telling her own story, or even if she’s fallen asleep. She nudges the other girl with her foot. “What comes next?”

“Oh – sorry. I got distracted. Okay, where were we? Well, her friend was late. She’d just gotten her license, see, and she had a minor accident. Nobody was hurt, and she just dinged her bumper, but it made her late enough to get stuck in traffic – lots of other people had the same idea about that beach that day.

“So this girl was alone. Her friend said she should go ahead and have ice cream; she wasn’t going to feel like company once she got out of this mess. She was disappointed, but that’s what she did, because her friend said that’s what would make her happiest.

“She’s just gotten a double scoop pistachio – her favorite – with extra rainbow sprinkles. Those aren’t her favorite – but they are her best friend’s, and it feels like a nice way to include her and brighten up the day.”

“She’s had exactly three licks and one nibble before someone bumps her from behind – a little boy in a hurry to get his own end-of-school-year treat.”

Ophelia goes quiet again – Marilyn jumps a little. She forgot it was just a story – her sister is a really good storyteller. She can taste the ice cream cold and smooth, the pistachios natural and an earthy counterpoint to the mild sweet, and the strangeness of the rainbow sprinkles that would of course go everywhere…

“Then what happpens?”

“The little boy bumps her, and her cone jolts right out of her hand – and lands upside down on the foot of a sandaled boy. She’s so embarrassed, she wants to run away, but she’s too polite to do that while he’s wearing her ice cream. So she looks up at him – and he’s the most beautiful boy she’s ever seen. And he’s smiling at her. She manages to mumble that she’s sorry, but he just laughs, and bends down to help her clean up the mess of ice cream. The rainbow sprinkles are everywhere – and, when their hands touch, it’s magic.

“Once they’ve cleaned up as much as they can, he buys her a new cone, and they talk and talk and talk – all night, and into the next morning, without ever leaving the beach.” Ophelia makes a little swipe at her eye. “He calls her ‘The Pot of Gold at the End of The Rainbow Sprinkles.”

“And did they live happily ever after?”

Ophelia sighs. She opens her eyes, but they’re still faraway, on a beach somewhere. “Let’s say they did. That every day was as sweet as that ice cream, and the nickname.”

That’s when Marilyn knows.

Her sister’s not making up a story.

That’s how Ophelia’s Mom met Dear Old Dad.

Is Marilyn right about Ophelia’s story?

How close to the truth is the story?

What happens next?

Any guesses?

Come back tomorrow for another installment, and we can explore this new story seed together!


I am myself. I own my life, and live with three other people who own theirs. My intention is to do only those things that bring me joy, and to give myself wholly to those things I do. Writing has been my passion throughout my life, and this will become the home for my writing life...because it brings me great joy!

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