The aim of Words for Wednesday is to use one or all of the prompts to write something - ie, a story, a poem, an essay or any forms of writing, fiction or nonfiction, basically write anything you want.
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Fiction: The Perils of Kidnapping a Tired Witch
Della was exhausted from lack of sleep and from all the work to keep her hotel from going kaput. If her stepmother, Hillary, her siblings, Jacky and Didi, didn't fall ill at the same time and then decided to take a month's vacation away and if their housekeeper, maid, cook's helper, assistant manager didn't quit, maybe Della wouldn't have minded it as much. At least their cook, Mrs. Tides, didn't quit but only because Della doubled her salary though she was a cousin of her stepmother's.
Even with ten guests, it was hectic. And winter season meant Della had to switch out all the beddings, get the heating working and other matters her siblings, stepmother and employees should have done. Thank goodness for her assistant, Mason. Della wouldn't have been able to getting everything done without him.
After one exhausted evening, Della was bidding two guests farewell by the front entrance of her hotel, when a van halted. Two men came out, grabbed Della, shoved her into the back of the van and drove off. As she lay on the floor, she fell asleep but was wakened when the van screeched to a stop and she bumped against the wall. The doors clapped open, a fat hand grabbed her and pulled her out. It was nearly midnight, most of houses were dark and the sidewalks were empty.
Della slumped to the ground. The street lamp just a few feet away fell on her abductors. They looked like brothers, each had a Roman nose and short chin but one was tall and the other was about a foot shorter. She glanced up at the short one, met his icy-blue eyes and said, "If you're going to kidnap me, you have to carry me. I'm too tired to walk."
The short one picked her up and hoisted her onto his thick shoulder.
"What are you doing, Baloney?" said the tall one.
"I'm carrying her," said Baloney.
"I can see that. What are you doing it for?" said the tall one.
"She— I— I have no idea." Baloney put her down. She looked at Baloney and again met his eyes. "Either carry me or don't kidnap me. I'm not going to walk," she said.
Baloney picked her up again and put her onto his shoulder.
"Baloney!" shouted the tall one. "You're doing it again. You do not comply with the kidnapped victim's request."
"But I—" Baloney put Della back down. He scratched his full head of curly black hair. "Flapfoot, I think I'm going mad."
Flapfoot smacked him on the arm. "You fool!" He gripped Della's arm and shoved her forward. "Walk or I'll put a hole in you."
Della turned to meet Flapfoot's eyes. "I'm sorry but I'm really tired. If you'll just carry me for bit and let me rest, I'll be able to walk later." She smiled and lightly tapped his arm.
Flapfoot picked her up and hoisted her on his boney shoulder. Della thought Baloney's shoulder was much more comfortable but the important thing was, she was off her feet.
"What are you doing, Flapfoot?" said Baloney.
No reply came. Della couldn't see Flapfoot's face but she was sure it was one of control but maybe in his mind, he was muddled. Her power to persuade people into doing what she wanted was always useful but she preferred not use it too often, not when she was tired.
They walked for a bit. Della tried to nap but Flapfoot's shoulder blade dug into her stomach and besides that, Baloney was chattering like a busy bear.
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Inside the house, everything had floral patterns - the walls, floors, carpets, furniture. Della couldn't understand if the patterns meant to confuse people or distract them or both. A large chandelier lit the room with scarcely a shadow about.
Flapfoot plonk Della down on the carpet in front of a floral-pattern sofa which sat an old lady with a tiny, fawn and white chihuahua on her lap. Her dress pattern nearly matched the sofa where a can was learning against. She put her teacup down on the coffee table. "I'm Mrs. Flowers. I owned Home Away From Home. So you're the owner of that wretched hole The Modish Hippo. I warn you, if you don't close down your hotel immediately, we'll close it for you."
Mason had alerted Della there might be trouble since their hotel was ten blocks from the Home. Della had not intended to steal Home's business but she couldn't help it if people chose their hotel instead of Mrs. Flowers'.
Della suppressed a yawn and got to her feet. "May I sit down? I'm awfully tired." She sat on the armchair to Mrs. Flowers' right.
"How dare you sit without my permission!" spat Mrs. Flowers. Standing to her left, Flapfoot and Baloney snickered. They bowed their heads when Mrs. Flowers glared at them.
"Miss Whatever-your-name-is, don't you know what going against me would mean?" said Mrs. Flowers.
Della shrugged. "No, I don't. I'll give you the pleasure of telling me."
Mrs. Flowers cleared her throat and took a sip from her cup. "You will lose not only your little hotel, but I'll make sure your stepmother and siblings suffer as much as possible. And you'll live in poverty for all your life along with a broken leg. Do I make myself understood?"
"No. Maybe you can expand on all that you said. Could you get me some tea first?" Della smiled and met Mrs. Flowers' small eyes behind frameless glasses. The chihuahua lifted its head and barked. "Shush, Mushi!" The dog wilted. "How dare you command me!" She pointed at Della and toward the men. "You two, give her a beating at once!"
Baloney and Flapfoot grabbed Della and flung her to the floor. She looked up at them. "Put me back on the armchair, step back and beat the crap out of each other."
They placed her back, stood back and started smacking each other.
"What the hell are you two doing? I say beat her, not each other!" shouted Mrs. Flowers. Her face had turned a bit crimson. Mushi growled. "Bite her!" She put the dog down. It ran toward Della. She stared into its brown eyes. "Go and take a long nap." The dog barked and ran to the corner toward a doggie bed and lay down. "Useless animal!" grumbled Mrs. Flowers.
Animals are easier to persuade than people. This woman was making Della doubly exhausted. She reached out and touched the woman's arm. "Mrs. Flowers, if you don't mind, I don't care for a beating or getting bitten but I do like some tea and sandwiches, preferably turkey with two slices of tomato and a dash of mayo. We can't have a discussion on empty stomachs."
Mrs. Flowers' lips twitched. She blinked in quick sequences but then she smoothed out her features and said, "Of course, my dear. We can't have a discussion on empty stomachs. Flapfoot, tell the cook to prepare new tea and sandwiches per Miss— What is your name, dear?"
"You may call me Della." She leaned back on the armchair. As much as she like to deal with situations the ordinary way, sometimes it needed a nudge of her power.
"Get Miss Della her tea and sandwiches and be quick!" said Mrs. Flowers.
"Yes, Mrs. Flowers," said Flapfoot. He punched Baloney in the face and the fellow crumbled to the floor. Flapfoot disappeared through a door somewhere far back from where they sat. In no time, he returned carrying a tray with a teacup, a pot and some sandwiches. Before stepping back, he gave Della a glare. His face was all bruised.
Della smiled at him. Slowly, she savored the tea and sandwiches which tasted much better than the ones made by Mrs. Tides. "As you were saying, Mrs. Flowers, what were you going to do to my family?"
"Oh, dear, I didn't mean it. I usually use a threat and most people just automatically cowed." Mrs. Flowers tucked at the hem of her dress. "But not you. I like that about you. But I have to ask, why would you work yourself to death for two dimwits with no relations to you and a silly woman your father married? Even I wouldn't have tolerated them."
No relations? Was it why Hillary always favored the twins and kept telling Della being the oldest, she should look after her siblings who were only two and a half years younger than her?
Three years ago, on her father's deathbed, he had begged Della to take care of his son and daughter because they were Della's last blood relation. That was the first and last time she had seen her father. Leaving her his run-down hotel and three people to take care of was probably the only thing he had ever done for her.
For three years, Della had worked nonstop to resurrect the hotel - giving it a new name, remodeling, changing this and that. Hillary often complained about every one of Della's decisions. The twins, too dumb to think for themselves, simply agreed with their mother. And hiring her stepmother's relations would have been fine if they weren't careless and lazy. "Keep the business in the family, it was what your father wanted," said Hillary countless times.
"You didn't know? I knew Hillary since grade school and she never did anything that didn't benefit her. She probably tricked your father into believing the twins were his. I don't know any man so gull..." Mrs. Flowers cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, my dear."
Della nodded. "I have an idea. Instead of closing my hotel, why don't you purchase it from me. I'll run it for 50% of the profit." If the hotel was no longer hers, her stepmother and siblings will have to fend for themselves.
Mrs. Flowers merged her lips into an oval. "That isn't bad but 50% is a bit much. How about 20%? You'll have my guarantee no one is going to cause trouble for you or the hotel and you can run it however you like. And you have the benefit of my expert hotel management skills."
Della could persuade her to agree to 50% but if Mrs. Flowers was the owner, it would solve a lot of problems. Besides, Della didn't need that much money. And the woman had experience in running hotels while Della barely knew what she was doing.
After more discussions, it was settled that Mrs. Flowers would purchase Della's hotel and Della will get 35% of the hotel's profit for running it with no interference from Mrs. Flowers or her cohorts. They had everything drew up on paper with Mrs. Flowers' lawyer, Mr. Scott. He appeared astonished but made no protest and left after all the papers were signed.
Della stood up and stretched her arms. "I don't suppose you have a room for me to bed down for the night? I'll only stay one night." She would have gone back to the hotel but she was tired and Mason would have taken care of things without Della there.
"Of course, my dear. Flapfoot, show Miss Della the third guest bedroom on the second floor." Mrs. Flowers smiled. "Good night, Miss Della."
"Good night, Mrs. Flowers." Della grinned. Flapfoot led her up the stairs, down a short hallway and stopped at the third door. Inside, the only pattern in the room was the wall's pale pink florals.
As she lay down on the queen-size bed with the signed papers tucked beneath her pillow, Della thought of the tasks she needed to do. The foremost was, she must raise early tomorrow and leave the house before anyone wakes up.
Another was to tell her stepmother she had sold the hotel to Mrs. Flowers. Della will give them a share for her father's sake but if Hillary complain it is too low, Della will tell her to go and negotiate with Mrs. Flowers.
A third was to test her power on the twins and found out if they were her father's children. Though she had a suspicion they weren't. Her power didn't work on blood relations and it was one of the reasons she never tried it on them but she also never wanted to force any of her family to do what she wanted.
Too exhausted think more, she fell asleep.
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"To practice any art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow. So do it."
- Kurt Vonnegut