silverflight8 | Fiction: April Mini-Contest

He stood in the doorway clutching a bouquet of daisies in one hand, staring at the doorknob. This was not going as planned. He rang the doorbell again; behind him, his mother sat in the car, waiting for the door to open so she could leave.

It swung open suddenly, and a lady looked out. She blinked at him, then called over her shoulder: “Melly!” He heard the purr of an engine and looked back to see his mother back out of the driveway; she gave him a swift wave and was down the street before he could wave back.

“Melly!” shouted the lady again, and gave him a look of resignation. Melanie came down the stairs in a hurry, nearly tripping on the magazine that sat on the lowest step, and dodged around her mother to smash into him.

“Melly!” Her mother grabbed both of them as they tottered on the porch step. When they had disentangled themselves, he discovered he had acquired a paint stain in a lurid. But by this point, she was dragging him through the entryway and into the house. “Come on! Daddy bought me paints and we’re making a bird feeder!”

“What bird feeder?” he asked, following her at a trot.

“Oh, we made one,” and pulled him into the room. Newspapers were scattered over the floor along with paints and birdhouse itself. The daisies he were holding were now crumpled, and he threw them on the table before joining Melly, who had dipped her fingers into the paint and was painting. A little horrified, he gingerly tried it as well; by the time his mother was back, he looked a mess, and his mother looked surprised, but it had been an entirely enjoyable afternoon.

Of course, he thought a little bitterly, that doesn’t help me now. He was again standing outside the door, except now it was painted a deep brown. He rang the doorbell, his other hand full of roses, and wondered what sort of reception he would get this time.

This one was a struggle. Hope you enjoyed it.