Short Story

How It Happened

It happened one convivial day a long time ago.
She came into my room, sat in my
favorite chair, and ate my unfinished
plate of scrambled eggs.  And left
soon after I explained I had no money,
never to return.



TS


Bob's Sequel to "How It Happened"

She came in my door without knocking, looking at me with soiled eyes as if she knew me, I didn’t have time to react to this unknown woman as she settled into my lap. Silent …warm…soft….her hair smelled like straw and her hands were warm and firm.

I kissed her lips and they tasted like scrambled eggs, she saw my jar of coins on the bookshelf and said she would never leave me. I dandled her for hours and made her leave when “The Rifleman” came on TV, wondering if I would see her again.
 
Bob Thomas
Phoenix, Oregon
 
I invite all who read this post to submit a version.  Keep it short and email it to Round Bend (roundbendpress@yahoo.com).  Leave your name and city/country.  I'll post the best of the bunch, however many arrive.
 
 
Here we go, another entry to our "How It Happened" short story contest!  This one is a little long, not unlike a piece of neighborhood gossip that grows into an exaggerated, endless rehashing of what could have never possibly happened to begin with, but which nevertheless transforms itself into an excuse to stand at the bar and have one beer after another until the storyteller is staggeringly drunk and goes home before reaching the punchline--TS

Miguel's Sequel to "How It Happened"

It happened years ago, but the way it happened still seems like a dream. She came into my room. Sat on my favorite chair. I say 'favorite' but it was my only chair. She ate my plate of unfinished scrambled eggs. Except 'eat' doesn't begin to describe what she did to those eggs. She attacked them like a sabertooth attacking an unfortunate herbivore by the Tar Pits: a flurry of jaw muscles, teeth flashing, red drops everywhere...it took my brain precious seconds to understand that they were ketchup, not blood. And then...


What happened then, I can't tell you. The old adage about a gentleman never telling may be shopworn but part of me, buried somewhere under the rest of the rubble of my personal flotsam and jetsam, feels that some things should remain private. So, suffice it to say...certain events...transpired. And then? I think you can guess the rest. She wanted to be paid. When I told her I was broke, a dreadful look came into her eyes, and for an instant, I thought the scene and the Tar Pits would be repeated with myself in the herbivore role, with droplets of hemoglobin as the icing on my death cake. But instead she got up (yes, she had been in a prone position just before, I will share that much with you), gave me a final look, and walked out of the room...and out of my life.


The only part I still can't understand, all these years later, is why she didn't bother to get dressed before she left. I kept her clothes and sometimes, on dark rainy days like today, when I am eating eggs, I lay them out on the bed....and see her there, once again, as clearly as I can see you, right now. Would you pass me the ketchup, please?


Miguel Tejada-Flores
Talent, OR/Guadalajara, MX

The contest is heating up, boiling in fact! (TS)


John's Sequel to "How It Happened"

"1961" answering her question before she asked. I knew that I should not be driving. I had never heard anyone use the word hackneyed in a conversation before. It made it matter where she was from. I was very uncomfortable with everything in the near future except one thing. Anyone can cook eggs. That very bad feeling was now occupying all the space where I could rest. I kept driving. I laughed but could not tell if I made a sound or it was in my head. She should not be with me. Yes, yes of course. Hackneyed.

John Thomas
Ashland, OR

And Kevin Bacon (no not that Kevin Bacon!)

Bacon's Sequel to "How It Happened"

I have five dollars left after I buy the two eggs which I crack and empty into a cold bowl. As I swirl them with a fork, I hear the door creak, followed by soft footfalls. I cradle my cold bowl in the nook of my arm and, still swirling, peep around the corner just in time to see her reversing her steps quietly back out of the door. Only two of the five single bills remain on the table next to the manager's late rent notice. I owe her twenty dollars and still she leaves me enough for a cup of good coffee. Boy, that's a girlfriend worth her weight in calling myself a lucky guy. I wonder if I still have her key?

KC Bacon
Tacoma, WA

A woman enters!

Lily's Sequel to "How It Happened"

I went into the kitchen expecting to be consumed by his desire. Gabriel was such a huge disappointment! There on the kitchen counter sat a dish of Kate's greasy eggs. I was ravishingly hungry, so I ate them. Gabriel was drunk, beckoned me toward him. No, I thought. I do not want to live among the dead. Ireland will one day be free!

Lily
Dublin, Ireland


Tony's Sequel to "How It Happened"

“Where is the lady?” the little girl asked.
The man nodded in the direction of the hotel and then told the little girl a delightful story about a fish.
“Is she your wife?”
“Yes she is. That is a fact.”
“What is she doing?”
“Talking,” the man said as he adjusted the sash of his bathrobe. “Talking on the damned telephone and eating an omelet.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have some unfinished business to take care of in our room.”
“Goodbye, Seymour.”
“Goodbye, Sybil.”

Tony Carpenter
Brooklyn, New York


Lou's Sequel to "How It Happened"

What was she thinking? Leaning against the wall in the hallway listening for sounds around the corner that would indicate someone following. Her life wasn't going as planned but how could she be surprised with the choices she was making recently. As her thoughts went to the dimly lit room she just left, she burped, delicately, tasting egg deep in her throat, bringing a smile to her face. Yes, things were certainly going to be different.


Lou Thomas
Gilchrist, Oregon