The prompt for this week was "gear." Not much to say about the story here except that I had a lot of trouble deciding how to punctuate the story within the story. I think that the proper thing to do is use open quotes for each paragrap and only add closing quotation marks at the end of the story so that is what I have done. I would love to hear what others do under those circumstances.

Without further ado, here is my story...


Margaret and her brother, Simon, sat on the front porch of farmhouse where Margaret lived with her husband and children. Croplands stretched in every direction as far as the eye could see. Tall corn stalks swayed under the late afternoon sun as her husband supervised the harvesters in their labors. Margaret missed city life and was happy to see her brother, a Dragon Knight, lately come from the capital for a visit.

As they sat, sipping apple juice that had been chilled in the well, they talked lazily about the latest gossip from court. Suddenly, Celia, Margaret's oldest daughter, burst out from between the rows of corn. She came up the front steps and was about to go inside when Simon called her over. He hugged her close and then held her at arms length, examining her. "Well, well, Celia, you've grown so that I hardly recognize you."

Simon was alarmed to see that tears streamed down Margaret's face. Her cheeks were red and her lips were tightly clenched as though she was trying not to  cry out loud. "Why what is the matter?"

"Don't want to be a girl no more," said Celia. She scrubbed at her face. "Rob says that girls don't get to go to school and they don't get to be anything but mommies."

"That's not true, Celia," said Simon. "Girls can do lots of things."

"But--but, Rob said that boys don't hav' ta be nice to girls."

"Why that little brat," cried Margaret. She stood up and said, "I am going to remind him of how--

Simon held up on hand in a stopping motion and Margaret sat back down. "Even if you could change," he said, "why would you want to be a boy?"

"Cause boys are more 'portant than girls."

"Nonsense," said Simon. "Let me tell you a story and then you can tell me if you still want to be a boy." He leaned forward in his chair and took a long sip of his juice. "A long time ago, when Sir George, the first Master of my order, still walked amongst us, there came a day when he visited the village of Droflim."

"He was right near here?" said Margaret.

"Yes, he was here for some time before he went to the capitol and founded the order of the Dragon." Then he turned back to Celia and continued, "On that day, many, many years ago, he entered the village square and was shocked to see a man beating a woman who crouched on the ground, covering her head with her arms.

"He approached the scene and said to the people who crowded around the two, 'Why do none of you stop that man?'

"There was no answer at first, but then one of the men said, 'Why should we stop him? That is his wife.'

"'That does not make it right,' said Sir George.

"He approached the man and, just as he pulled back his arm to strike the woman again, Sir George grabbed him by the wrist and stopped him. 'How can you be so stupid?' he asked the man.

"The man stared at Sir George, obviously angry. He finally replied, 'What is stupid? She will not do as I say so I must teach her to behave.'

"'I say that you are stupid and I will show you how. But first, how do you make your living?'

"'I am a miller,' said the man.

"'Then you are familiar with the small gear that transfers the motion of the oxen to the plate that grinds the grain.'

"'Yes, of course,' the man replied.

"Would you smash that gear?'

"'No.'

"'And why not?'

"'It would be stupid. If I broke that gear, the mill wouldn't work.'

"'Exactly. And that is why you should not beat your wife,' concluded Sir George. 'You see, your wife is like that gear. It is she that is at the center of the family; she who makes things work within the home and without it. Break her, physically or mentally, and your home will no longer work.'

"As the man stared, Sir George reached down and helped the woman to her feet. Leaning closer to her, he said, 'If I were you, I would leave this fool and find a man who already understands your value.'"

"Did she leave her husband?" Celia asked. She stood with one hand on Simon's shoulder, leaning close so as not to miss one word of his story.

"The tale does not say," he said. "It ends there. But we all know that it is true that a wife is the heart of a home. Do you disagree?"

Celia shook her head.

"Do you still wish you were not a girl?"

As she opened her mouth to reply, her brother, Rob, came running out of the fields and onto the porch. He screamed with delight when he saw his uncle and threw himself at the man to hug him.

Rob glanced at this sister and saw the tear stains on her now smiling face. He looked from his mother to his uncle, eyes wide, as though waiting for a punishment he was sure would come.

"Rob, who told you that girls were less important than boys?"

"The overseer's son, Stefan," he said. "Isn't he right?"

"Take a look at your mother, children," said Simon. "Do you think your home would be a nice place to be if she wasn't here?" When they both shook their heads, Simon asked again, "Do you still wish you weren't a girl, Celia?"

"No, uncle." She turned to her brother with a mischievous grin and said, "Don't you wish you were a girl?"

The prompt for this week was "parasite." Speaking of "in the start" the only mood that the editor would allow me to select was "accomplished" when I would actually have seloected "happy."

Let's see if you can find the parasite in this little tale:


"Call me. I can help."

Martin Wayne, the tall, handsome host of "In the Stars," looked soulfully into the camera. He radiated confidence and compassion as the 800 numbers flashed across the screen under his chin.

Suddenly he said, "Susan in Carpenter's Point, I'm sorry, but you're right, he is cheating. I have good news though, so call me."

"Must be a put-up job," Susan muttered. "They probably saw the engagement notice in the paper. Don't know why I watch this show anyway." She turned off the television. as  Jack, her fiancé, burst through the door waving a bunch of red roses.

"I brought you one rose for each hour of the day I spend thinking about you." He paused and then continued helpfully, "There are two dozen."

Susan found this speech annoying rather than romantic. Somehow, Jack's behavior struck her more and more often as phony instead of endearing. "I just can't imagine spending the rest of my life listening to speeches like that," she thought.

Jack was distracted and barely heard anything she said. He ate quickly. As she was serving the coffee, he said, "Did you get that money?"

"I did," she replied. "But, Jack, are you sure this is a good investment?"

"Of course," he replied. "Don't you trust me?"

"The money should be in my account tomorrow," she said.

He scribbled his account number on the back of an envelope. "Got to work late tomorrow," he said. "Just transfer the money to this account."

He left without kissing her goodbye.

The next night, she lay in bed, watching the late-night episode of "In the Stars" opened. "We have a great show for you tonight." He gestured at the audience. "We've got Cathy from Syracuse, New York, George from Miami, Florida, and Paul from Everett, Washington." The camera turned to show the surprised faces of Cathy, George, and Paul.

As the music swelled to a crescendo, Martin turned to the audience and said, "Susan, I'm disappointed that you didn't call me." He paused. Then looked directly into Susan's eyes and said, "Don't worry, Susan, it's not a scam"

As though in a trance, Susan leaned over and picked up the phone. When she heard Martin's voice, she said, "Where did you get my name? Why do you want to talk to me?"

"Let me explain how this is going to work," he said. "I will explain who you are, that you are the one I talked to yesterday, and then I will explain everything."

Susan reached behind herself and plumped up the pillows. She lay quietly, listening to the sounds in the studio. Then she heard the fanfare, followed by Martin's voice, "I've got something special for you. For those of you who don't know the story, Susan's name came to me yesterday as I was closing out the afternoon episode. I told her something that she probably didn't want to hear, and asked her to call me.

"Susan, tell the audience what I told you yesterday."

"You said my fiancé had been cheating on me." She stumbled over the words, her face flaming, despite the fact that the audience couldn't see her.

"Was I right?"

"I don't know. I find it hard to believe."

"He brought you flowers, didn't he?" After a pause, he said, "Do you know anybody who wears perfume that smells like roses?"

As she opened her mouth to deny it, she heard Kathleen's, voice in her head saying, "Yes, it is nice isn't it? Essence of roses."

"Well..."

"That's who he's seeing. Call her. He's there now."

"But he's working late."

"Go ahead and call," Martin said. "Then call us back."

Feeling numb, Susan hung up the phone and dialed Kathleen's number. The phone rang two times, three, four, then Kathleen answered.

"Kathleen? Sorry to bother you so late. I'm looking for Jack and someone said he was at your house."

After an eternity, Kathleen said, "Why would he be here?"

Susan heard a man's voice whispering and then the sound was muffled as an indistinct, but obviously heated, argument ensued.

"Susan, what made you think I'd be here?"

"Why are you there, Jack?"

"I asked you a question. Now please answer me. What made you call here looking for me? Have you had me followed? Don't you trust me?"

"I trusted you one hundred percent until yesterday, Jack." Her heart began to pound. Her voice sounded funny in her own ears.

"Susan—"

She slammed the receiver down, breaking off Jack's protest mid-sentence. She sat, frozen with disbelief, for several heartbeats, and then burst into tears. Hands shaking, she dialed the television show.

The staff person who answered told her that Martin would be with her shortly. Gradually her tears subsided and her breathing returned to normal. After another click, she heard Martin's voice. "Was I right?"

"Yes. He was there."

"I'm sorry. I wish I could have been wrong."

"How did you know?"

"The same way I knew that you were watching yesterday afternoon, not watching earlier today and that you are watching now." Susan heard the audience gasp.

She glanced at the screen in time to see a close-up of Martin's face. Either he was a really good actor or he really sympathized. She suddenly became aware that he had the most amazing green eyes she had ever seen.

"You said you had good news for me too. What is it?"

"I'm sure you will find this unbelievable as all the rest of it but, when I heard your voice a little while ago, I realized that you are my soul mate." The audience gasped again. Before Susan could answer, Martin continued, "I won't rush you. Let's get to know each other but I ask you to start by having dinner with me tomorrow night."

"I might as well," she thought. "What do I have to lose?"

"Yes," she said aloud.

Martin called her after the show was over and they talked for hours. The last thing he said as he wished her goodnight was, "As sorry I am about Jack, I'm glad you called. Our meeting was foretold in the stars."