Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-24486291-20140531045834

Welp, I sat down and finally cranked out another story for review. Whether it's good or not, I'm not sure. It's pretty short (just over 550 words), but I think it's okay. It's certainly not original, but I'm hoping that you guys like it nonetheless.

Watching my little Evelyn run around on the playground always seemed to cheer me up. Now? Now, it only was making me irritated. That in itself caused me to be upset. Why should I be mad that my own daughter wanted to have some fun, even if it was fifty degrees outside and it was about to rain? I had to make some time for her.

She traveled like a whirlwind through the metal tube jungle, having to try every single activity. The playground, eerily devoid of all life, echoed with silence whenever Evelyn stopped squealing with joy. I almost offered to play tic-tac-toe with her on those cylinders that spin around, but changed my mind. I was developing a massive headache, and with every icy wind that came through, I was treated to a chilling stab right between my eyes, like receiving an invisible icepick lobotomy.

Without warning, a small middle-eastern child that looked a bit younger than my little girl flopped out from one of the slides. There was no one here, and Evelyn hadn’t been to that slide for at least five minutes. Where did he come from?

He collided with the mulch, sending dozens of shreds of wood scattering from under him. After sitting up, he brushed the seat of his pants with his hands, freeing the little shavings from his rear. He turned to look at me and made a beeline for the metal bench that I was lounging on.

“Excuse me, have you seen my balloon?” he asked as he seemed to come to a complete halt directly in front of me. “Umm, where are your parents?” I replied, ignoring his question.

He looked down at the ground with an ashamed look on his face. “Have you seen my balloon?” he questioned again.

“Balloon?”

“Yes. My balloon.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"ArialNarrow","sans-serif"">“Look, that’s not really important right now-”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"ArialNarrow","sans-serif"">“It looks orange from far away, but it’s really red.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"ArialNarrow","sans-serif"">I took a moment to look around the playground for any sight of it. Beyond the park, there was a small preschool, but it was closed on account of the weather. Ominous storm clouds overhead lit up with lightning, and after their light show cleared, the rumble of thunder bellowed throughout the sky. No balloons anywhere.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"ArialNarrow","sans-serif"">I turned back to tell the small boy that I didn’t see it anywhere, but he was gone. In his place, nothing but another spike of freezing chills from the east.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"ArialNarrow","sans-serif"">“Hey!” I called out to Evelyn. “Did you see a boy in the playground?” She finished making her epic journey across the short length of monkey bars before turning to me. She pointed to her left without leaving my eyes.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"ArialNarrow","sans-serif"">I slowly traced her finger’s destination to a bench on the far end of the park. In it, a middle-aged man sat forward, adjusting his pants slightly as he did so. He caught my gaze and turned to face me.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"ArialNarrow","sans-serif"">His button-up shirt, lightly wet by the drizzle which had now begun, stretched as he twisted his shoulders and adjusted his arms on his lap. His furry mustache twitched upward as his mouth curled into a grin. Behind his Windsor glasses, I could feel his eyes piercing into my very soul and beyond. In his hand, he held a tiny balloon by a thin string. It looked to be orange, but I think it was really red.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"ArialNarrow","sans-serif"">--

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:18.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"ArialNarrow","sans-serif"">So, that's a thing I did. Be honest with your reviews! <ac_metadata title="Excuse Me - feedback requested"> </ac_metadata>