Spot Writers: The Ring

Welcome to the Spot Writers. This week the prompt is to use five of the following words in the story: shadow, mountain, shell, sunlight, hammock, bottle, chain, wheel

Today’s contribution comes from RC Bonitz, author of A LITTLE BIT OF BLACKMAIL, A LITTLE BIT OF BABY, and A BLANKET FOR HER HEART.

The Ring

by R.C. Bonitz

Fresh out of the shower after cleaning up some poison ivy, I was sitting down to lunch with my Granny Annie. Sunlight streamed in through her kitchen windows. She stood at the stove making her fried egg bacon sandwiches I loved so much, drowned in catsup and her secret blend of spices, yum.

“We have visitors,” she said suddenly, staring out the window at the wagon wheel gate beside the road.

Now unannounced visitors made for an event. You see, Granny lived in the shadow of a mountain, half way to the summit. The only way to get to her place was by the dirt road up the mountain. I stood up and joined her at the window.

I saw the woman first, did I ever. A twenty year old Kate Beckinsale she was, oh boy. Standing by Granny’s wheel, she was talking to a man perched on the big flat boulder next to Granny’s mailbox. I took in that much of the scene before Granny shoved me out the door and down the path. Not that I needed much shoving.

“You folks lost?” I asked, grinning like a fool at Kate.

The man spun around and smiled. “No, we’re hiking up the road. To the summit.” White haired, Granny’s age, he gave her the once over. “Just thought we’d take a break on your rock here.”

“It’s a long hike to the top,” Granny said.

“It’s not bad,” the man said, smiling.

“You must be an athlete,” Granny said.

The man laughed and shook his head. “I go dancing a lot. That keeps me in shape.”

“Would you like a drink of something?” Granny said, friendly as all get out. I stared at her. I mean, Granny’s not one to welcome strangers over much. She likes her privacy. That’s why she stayed on the mountain when Pops died a few years ago.

I caught Kate’s eye. She gave me a dazzling smile. It was time I found out her real name. I offered my hand.

“Greg Hawkins. Nice to meet you,” I said.

“Lois Ryder. Thank you. If you could fill our water bottles, we’d appreciate it.”

“Be glad to,” I said and took the bottles she offered. I started back to the house, but she didn’t follow, darn it.

“Do you like to dance?” the man asked Granny as I strode up to the house.

I didn’t hear Granny’s answer but I didn’t need to. She and Pops used to go dancing all the time before he got sick. I scooted into the house, filled the bottles and hurried back outside. Granny and the old man were deep in conversation by the gate. Lois met me on the path.

“Thank you,” she said as I held up the bottles.

“They seem to be hitting it off. Are you related?” I said with a nod toward the old folks.

“He’s my Grandpa. They’re making a date to go dancing.”

I took a deep breath. Time to try my luck. “Do you like to dance?”

“I love it.”

“Would you like to go?”

Her eyes twinkled, then she frowned. She held up her left hand, palm down. A ring sparkled on her fourth finger “Sorry, I’m spoken for.”

The Spot Writers- our members.
RC Bonitz

http://www.rcbonitz.com

Val Muller

https://valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie