This the first story I attempted earlier this year for a project I am working on for my sisters. My quick read this morning leaves me wanting to make changes; however, I am going to post as a draft anyway. Roxie Story It is a few days before Halloween and Roxie is digging through the massive pile of as yet unaddressed clothes needing ironing. She finds a skirt gathered at the waist in a flowered print and sets it aside for future consideration. She then explores the bottom of the various closets and discovers a discarded pair of dungarees which are torn at the knees and puts them with the skirt. Up in the attic she discovers an old white coat which might be used to create a medical costume and takes it down stairs to consider with the other options she has found. She lines the three garments up on the scratched surface of the window seat and ponders what to choose. Should she go as a doctor, a gypsy or a hobo, as her mother would refer to this choice. Calling the character a bum would just be rude. She finally settles on the skirt which she can use with a white shirt, a shawl and beads. Because it needs ironing, she plugs in the iron, fills it with water and sets it for cotton and impatiently waits for the iron to heat up. The board is always set up for the rest of the family’s use, in other words for persons who are right handed. Although she could make an adjustment she once again chooses not to and picks up the iron with her right hand which has multiple small burn scars on the back from previous encounters with the tool. The iron makes a whooshing noise as the steam rolls out onto the surface of the polished cotton as it glides along. She rolls the skirt around the end of the ironing board as each section is pressed and manages to complete the task without doing further damage to her hand. Halloween finally arrives and the chilly wind whips her gypsy skirt around her ankles as she moves swiftly with the swarm of neighborhood kids as they gallop from house to house across the neighborhood. There are a lot of pirates, ghosts and tramps in the group as these are costumes easily made from clothes that are available. Occasionally, a ballerina, princess or some other character will be there as well. These are usually the kids whose parents “have money” or are participants in activities that will lend themselves to costumes like dance classes or team sports. The kids are gathered around the door of a favorite stopping place which is only a couple of doors West of Roxie’s family home. The elderly couple who live at this tiny, but clean white house annually make homemade donuts. The real prize is the donut holes which none of the kids have ever seen or even know exists and therefore are considered a delicacy in a kid’s universe in the 1960s. The kids crowd on the porch under the soft yellow glow emitting from the single light bulb as some brave kid at the front of the pack knocks loudly on the door. The door swings open with a screeching sound, the light from the living room making a silhouette of the old man standing in the door. “Trick of Treat”, yells the group in unison. The old man stands leaning slightly to the left and scans the group slowly with his twinkling, milky blue eyes. His cotton-haired wife stands behind him in a large floral printed housedress holding a tray of delectable glazed doughnuts she has made for the occasion. The old man takes a deep breath and begins his patter, “Anyone who does a trick will get a donut hole and those that don’t want to do a trick will still get a regular donut.” There is immediate whispering among the kids about what kind of trick to perform for the coveted doughnut holes! The children begin doing a variety of “tricks” including, rubbing their heads and patting their stomachs at the same time, hopping on one foot or reciting a poem. The definition of “tricks” is quite loose and therefore any attempt to entertain the old man and his wife will result in the receipt of the anticipated donut holes accompanied by exaggerated complements on their various feats of cleverness. Finally Roxie is left standing alone in front of the old man, staring at the toes of her patent-leather shoes beneath the polished cotton skirt of her costume. The old man looks at her, leans down and says, “Well young lady, do you have a trick you want to do?” She cannot bring herself to look at him and only shakes her head slowly from side to side. “Well, that is alright sweetie, here have a donut.” She reaches out her hand and snatches the donut, whispering a barely audible “thank you” while quickly meeting the man’s gaze, turns quickly and runs after the rest of the children. As the group moves along the uneven “Don’t spit on the bricks” sidewalk under the tall, looming street lights they cross the street in masse picking up other kids along the way including the Mosier boys, Candy McKay and others. They visit each lighted house on Belmont street, across from McKinley School and round the corner heading towards Broadway where they are joined by Lynn Nichols and Marcia Hoffman. They round back on Broadway moving in a disjointed, unruly fashion, yelling, pushing and shoving in a playful manner intent on the mission of collecting the most goodies. They pass Roxie’s sister Judy taking her rambunctious sister Gail dressed as a hobo and her brother Ricky who is dressed as a pirate around the block to get their “booty”. The kids really look forward to the houses passing out homemade goodies like chocolate chip, peanut butter or snickerdoodle cookies, popcorn balls and marshmallow treats. Even apples and oranges were more welcome than “store-bought” candy. As they move down Broadway they meet a group coming from the opposite direction. “Hey, see that house on the corner! They are giving out full-sized candy bars, you better hurry before they run out!,” yells a kid in passing. Roxie’s group picks up speed and makes it to the mentioned house before the candy bars are gone. It is totally dark now and all that can be heard is the rustling dry leaves under their feet and the murmur of voices from other trick-or-treaters in other blocks. The temperature has dropped making the wind blow like icy fingers against her exposed neck. She decides to turn for home running most of the way dodging the tidal wave of kids pounding up the steps to the old green bungalow and moving past Judy who is now at the door handing out candy to kids impatiently shifting from foot to foot. She flops down in a stiff backed dining room chair at the table and dumps the contents of her brown paper grocery bag onto the table separating the “booty” into distinct groups. She puts the popcorn balls, prized donut, cookies, candy bars and fruit in one pile, penny candy in a pile and the dreaded peanut butter toffee wrapped in black or orange and the candy corn in another pile. She picks up the popcorn ball unwrapping it as she leans into the back of the chair and takes a bite of the creamy, crunchy ambrosia and closes her eyes lost in the moment.
Posted on: Thu, 31 Oct 2013 14:28:48 +0000
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