5 silver

The first time I did word wars I wasn't sure what to expect so I decided to write on the prompt from ROF Forum (Realm of Fantasy) theis is what I came up with.

Five Silver and A Lock of Hair From Your Newborn Son
By
Zanna G. Dobbs



I walked into the shop just looking around Antique shops fascinate me and I don't know how I missed this one before. The smell of dust hangs in the air as I wander around the mostly junk filled room. Then over in the corner I spot a genuine Kerry Grandfather Clock just like the one that stood in my grandparents house when I was a kid. I haven't seen one in years and my families was lost in a flood. I moseyed on over and casually check it out. It looks exactly the same right down to the nicks and dings in the door from where I hit the one at my grandparents, when I accidently threw the baseball in the house. I absently rub my rear as I remember my grandfathers answer to my forgetting. How could it have the same dings? Suddenly I know that I must have this clock. There is no question. I look around for the shop keeper and when I spot her I am shocked. She is almost as old as her merchandise,and looks like a breeze would blow her over.
"Mam, can you tell me how much you want for the Kerry Grandfather Clock?"
She smiles and nods her head. For a minute I am afraid that her neck is not strong enough to get he head back in the upright position. But she manages and says. "Why that old thing I will have to look at it closer I don't want to gyp you or anything."
Slowly and painfully she walks over to where the clock is stuffed in a corner of the shop. For an instant I look at her face and she looks like she is surprised to find the clock there. Then a grin breaks out that seems to take over her entire face. "Ah yes, this is special clock. It only had one owner and holds many happy memories."
I caught myself nodding at her. Then I thought to myself why am I nodding? It looks like my grandparents clock but it can't actually be their clock. Suddenly I know I have to look inside the door. It's as though a giant hand smacked me on the side of my head and someone yelled in my ear. Check the inside of the door. I know that my grandfather bought it brand new for my grandmother for a wedding present and that they marked the height of each of their six children inside the door.
I reached for the door and the little old woman moved faster than I ever imagined she could to slap my hand "What do you think your doing?"
"I am just going to look at the inside I would not like to buy it and find out that the gears are jammed." I was pretty pleased with myself for coming up with that off the cuff.
She shook her head and open the door herself "No touching now you can look though."
To my speechless shock their were the marks that my grandparents had made all those years before.
Now I know I must have the clock."How much?"
"Well, I think that 5 silvers and a lock of hair from your newborn son aught to do it."
"What are you talking about what silvers? Do you mean dimes? And I am not even married so I don't have a newborn son."
She seemed to shake off a ton of dust from her shoulders. "Oh I forgot what year it was again, sorry. How about 500 dollars and a lock of hair from your son when he is born."
I think she is crazy but for some reason I really feel the urge to own this clock for my children. Wait I don't have children now the old biddy has me thinking crazy.
Then I realize that maybe this will work out after all I just have to pay her the 500 and never see her again.
She frowns as though she can sense what I am thinking. "Now don't you try to stiff me. The last person who did that ended up losing this clock and a whole lot more in a flood."
Now I look at her and shake my head. This can't be happening. She can't be talking about my grandfather. He never stiffed anyone in his life, and yet this was undoubtedly his clock. "I have a question before I agree to your terms. Why do you need my newborn sons hair?"
She just smiled and crooked her finger at me to follow her.then she lead me to a curtain at the back of her store. She shakily pulls it open, and there lined up in jars and zip lock bags are locks of hair. "It is how I keep track of where my stuff goes. And your family owes me one anyway for the years they held my clock."
I blink and stare. "How did my grandfather keep from giving you his newborn sons hair and keep the clock?" I am not sure what made me ask this question. In fact this whole afternoon was totally weird for me. My grandparents didn't have any sons only my mother and her 5 sisters.
She chuckles under her breath. "He was a sly one He told me that sons didn't run in his family and I would have to give him two generations to come up with a male heirs hair. I even let him talk me into not making it the first born male by a slip of the tongue as we bargained." She smiled and I grimaced at the gaps in her tooth line.
I don't remember exactly what happened next but when I got home that evening I had a grandfather clock sitting in the foyer and my wallet was 500 dollars lighter. Now I just have to wait until I have a son. I do have genes on my side though as grandfather is right. Our family only has sons about every 40 years. I am the first one after him this means one of those locks of hair on the wall should have been mine. I wonder what a difference that would have made in my life. Anyway this gives me a few years to try and figure out how to get out of giving that old hag a babies lock of hair. Maybe if I fulfill grandfathers bargain and send one of my locks of hair, no that would be too creepy knowing my hair is hanging on her wall. It is definitely a challenge, I need to think about. Absently I run my hands down the front of the clock and somewhere an old hag grins her gape-toothed grin. The game is on.

Anna Kashina and her newest book

Anna Kashina Trailer for Ivan-and-Marya:
http://www.annakashina.com/Ivan_and_Marya.html

RRCA

Last week I had a story come out in the Ruidoso Regional Council of the Arts Newletter. Here is a copy of the story.

Katie's Picture
By
Zanna G. Dobbs


Katie's red crayon jerked as she stabbed the paper. A bright red house with bits of red crayon all over it appeared there. She couldn't believe Jan had taken her bottle to school and broken it. Mom knew how much Grandpa's train-shaped bottle meant to her. How could she let Jan take it for show and tell?
Katie reached for an orange crayon. The next house took shape under it, big bright and angry. Katie sniffed as she looked at the broken bottle. She quickly turned back to her picture a deep purple crayon in hand. The purple house was small and dark. The sky a soft gray, a dark cloud formed right over the red house. Big blue rain drops surrounded the small purple house.
She turned burning eyes towards the doorway. There stood Jan, her voice shaking as she said. "I'm sorry."
Katie felt like the large orange house she had drawn, big and angry, until she saw the tears on Jan's cheek. Katie held out her arms to Jan and hugged Jan tight.
Katie's eyes were red from crying when she once more spotted the picture. Grandpa had loved her pictures, but Katie knew he wouldn't have liked his one. Katie opened her almost new box of 128 crayons and reached for the barely used green one. She had put these away when Grandpa died. Now she knew he would want her to use them. A green lawn took shape in front of the red house. A green shade tree by the orange house. Green, Grandpa's favorite color. The green color flew across the paper in an arc. Quickly the other colors surrounded the green until a rainbow brought a ray of hope to the angry house and sad sky. Grandpa would have liked that picture.

Who am I

I am a writer of all kinds of fiction and a little nonfiction as well. I am a mother of 7 children and have 3 grandchildren with another on the way in Sept. I work as a Deli manager in a grocery store in Ruidoso, New Mexico. Most ly I am going to blog about my writing.