This was written for The Red Dress Club, a virtual writer's society.
Concrit is always welcomed and appreciated!
Someone has stolen something from you (or your character). Something of tremendous value. What will you do to get it back? Or will you give up?
Word limit: 600 My count: 451
“Where IS it? It's GONE! Someone STOLE it!” Voice increasing in volume and pitch with each word, he is rapidly losing control.
“I left it RIGHT HERE and now it's GONE! It's STOLEN!” He runs around his cluttered bedroom, lifting half-built Lego projects and moving wads of clothes, both clean and dirty… searching.
“Jesse! YOU stole it! I know you did!” He spins around to face his brother, who upon hearing his name, pulls the pacifier out of his mouth and grins.
“Das me! Desse!” The barely intelligible speech of the younger boy simply enrages his brother.
“MOOOOOOOOOM! I need you! It's been STOLEN!”
Her singsong voice echoes down the hallway from the kitchen. “What do you need, Logan?”
“It's GONE! I think Jesse STOLE it!”
“Sweetie, your brother is barely two! He isn't going to steal anything!”
“Then where IS it? I've been looking EVERYWHERE!”
Logan goes to his toy box with the trains on the front and leans all the way in, so he can reach the furthest corners. Pulling toys out one at a time and throwing them back over his shoulder, he keeps searching.
A sudden screech from the doorway makes Logan freeze mid-toss and their mom comes sprinting down the hallway towards the boys' bedroom.
Jesse is crying, his pacifier on the floor in a puddle of drool, and he holds his hand over his eye.
“What happened?” Their mom rushes to Jesse's aid and kneels down to examine the toddler. “What's wrong, Peanut? Let Mommy see.” She gently pries the distraught boy's hand from his face and sees an angry, red Hot Wheels sized welt already forming above his eyebrow. “Logan. Here. Now.” Summoning him to her side, leaving no room for interpretation. Logan is in Big Trouble. “Tell me now what happened.”
Logan's solemn face and quivering chin belies the brave front he tries to put up. “I don't know what happened, Mommy…” he looks around the room, hoping someone will appear to take the blame. “I was just looking in my toy box and some stuff was in my way so–”
“So you were throwing the toys to get them out of your way,” his mom finishes.
“Uh huh. I didn't mean to hit him, I promise Mommy! Besides, he STOLE it!”
“Logan? He stole what?” She locks eyes with him, willing him with all her might to tell the truth.
“My video game! I can't find it anywhere and I know he took it!”
Their mom's shoulders relax and she laughs softly. “He didn't take your DS, kiddo. I did. Remember? It was your punishment for throwing a toy at your brother. You'll get it back on Sunday.”