It’s [Fiction] Friday again. Woop! Today’s prompt is:
A man aspiring to be a pro bowler loses to his young daughter.
My (unedited) story is here:
‘Woo! Daddy, did you see that? I’ve won now haven’t I? Have I? Really?’ Sally looked up at her father expectantly.
Derrick turned away from his daughter, unsure he’d be able to sustain the happy face she was expecting. How had that happened? It wasn’t that Sally was any better than she normally is, it’s that he was a lot worse. Seriously a lot worse.
He looked back at the screen, Sally had 98 points, he had 96. 96. He’d not got as little as 96 since… he couldn’t remember when.
‘Daddy? Did I win?’
‘You know how to read the screen, you tell me,’ he snapped at her before shaking himself, it wasn’t her fault. Now she looked hurt. He knelt down to her level, her huge blue eyes that reminded him so much of her mother’s were full of sadness and were strained on the floor. ‘Sorry honey. Yes, you did very well, you beat me, that’s brilliant.’ He hoped his enthusiasm sounded genuine.
‘I’ve never beat you before have I Daddy?’
‘No, no you haven’t.’
As Sally went back over to the screen to see the scores, Derrick moved to the seat at the side. What had happened? He’d not played for a while, but surely he couldn’t slip that much in what, three weeks? It would take a year or two of not playing to make him that bad.
His mind crept back to that last game, and the woman at the bar. God, she was gorgeous – long silky black hair to her waist, golden tan and sparkling amber eyes. He wouldn’t have done anything – he was sure of it. Well, he kept telling himself he wouldn’t anyway. Who knows what would have happened if Terry and her friend hadn’t have turned up?
She hadn’t believed nothing was going on. He couldn’t really blame her, she was whispering something in his ear when they walked in, she had her hand on his arm, she was standing so close to him he could smell her shampoo. God, no wonder he hadn’t let himself think about that night.
Terry had left without a word. Her friend had stayed longer, mumbling something, pointing at him and the brunette, before running after her. He had no chance of catching up with them. By the time he’d untangled himself from the brunette, Terry’s car was speeding out the car park.
Once he’d talked Tom into driving him home, she’d already thrown his stuff out. The lawn was full of his clothes, CDs, books, his life. She’d not even listened to a word he said, and he’d tried. All night. In the end he left because Sally had woken up and was getting upset, he could just about handle upsetting his wife, but not his little girl too.
Maybe that’s why his game was off today – the memories of his mistake that night were putting him off? It didn’t seem enough, usually he could shut out the whole world and just concentrate on the ball, the ally and his arm swinging. No, there had to be something else.
Terry’s friend? Who was she? He’d met her before once or twice, she was a bit ‘hippy’ so he liked to stay away from her. Jayne. That was it. What if…? No that was a silly thing to think. But it would fit…? No. No? No! She couldn’t be? But what had she been mumbling at him? Could it be… A spell? Could she be a witch and put a hex on him?
As always, please let me know what you think.