Parade

I waited for a stately parade of cars trapped behind a slow moving school bus to pass, then I ran across the street. I punched 911 into my phone as I approached her. Jeanette lay on the ground beside her house, the hose in her hand spurting crazily in the air like a fountain gone mad. “My friend needs an ambulance,” I told the 911 operator. I threw the hose aside and felt Jeanette’s neck for a pulse. “She’s breathing, but not conscious,” I said and gave directions to our location. Jeanette was soaked from . . .

Leave a comment with your first 50 words about “parade.”

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

4 thoughts on “Parade”

  1. Jeanette was soaked from ….

    …head to toe. Frantic, I grabbed her by the shoulder.

    “Jeanette! Jeanette! Can you hear me? Jeanette!” Her head rolled slightly with each shake I gave her shoulder, but she didn’t respond. What could have happened? I had seen her not ten minutes before, waving at me from across the street as we both watered our newly sprouted Spring bulbs.

    Could it have anything to do with the man I had seen over here yesterday, the man who brought….

  2. the man who brought …

    …a big basket full of fresh fruit. After he left Jeanette called me over to see her bounty. It was a birthday gift from her son in California. The basket held a fresh pineapple, several other fresh fruits, some crackers, sausage, flavored coffee beans and other yummies. The thing that attracted Jeanette first was the summer sausage, which she cut open and started eating with crackers the minute she finished unwrapping the basket. She put aside the coffee beans for today’s breakfast, which she must have drunk before she came outside to water.

    She groaned, which gave me hope, and clutched her . . .

  3. and clutched her ……… head.

    “Gigantic, the size of a melon,” she said. She looked at me, eyes unfocused. “Have you seen Ken?”

    “Ken?”

    “My son. He brought me fruit, right? Melon?”

    The ambulance pulled in and the yard was full of men and women with clipboards. Within minutes she was loaded onto a gurney and heading downtown. About this time, I called her son.

    “Steve,” I began ………..

  4. Hi, Mothergoose, and thanks for playing. I’ll keep it going 🙂

    “Steve,” I began, “your mom’s on her way to Westside Hospital in an ambulance. She’s okay, but very confused.”

    “What’s wrong?” His voice was tight with concern.

    I explained what had happened. I heard him stirring and his aside to his secretary telling her he was leaving. “Physically, she’s fine,” I assured him again.

    “Steve, if you don’t mind me asking, do you have a brother named Ken?”

    “No, I’m an only child” . . .

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