"Jim's Folly" by A. Craig Newman © 2012
Writer's Notes:
I take writing classes when I get the chance, though I haven't had much opportunity lately. This story came from a prompt from one of those classes. The prompt was to write a story involving an envelope that holds three fingernails and a note. The resulting story has been well received, but it is too light and short to be seriously published. Still it's a good story and I hope you enjoy it. -ACN
I take writing classes when I get the chance, though I haven't had much opportunity lately. This story came from a prompt from one of those classes. The prompt was to write a story involving an envelope that holds three fingernails and a note. The resulting story has been well received, but it is too light and short to be seriously published. Still it's a good story and I hope you enjoy it. -ACN
The waiters at Hank's Town Tavern had just finished singing their Birthday Song, deposited the bowl of ice cream with the flaming sparklers, and whisked away the dirty dishes, when Jim proudly handed over the card envelope. Though embarrassed by the attention, Anne Marie's blush was barely noticeable under the foundation which was starting to flake. She smiled and slipped open the flap, hoping the Lee Press-On Nail from her home manicure set would hold. Jim leaned back, confident and excited. Bigfoot and Gravedigger were headlining the Southern Alabama Monster Truck Super Rally this Sunday (Sunday SUNDAY). It had sold out weeks ago, but he had managed to secure two front row seats in a high splatter section. After the incredibly busy week he had had, it felt good to know that one of the things he had been working on was about to pay off.
As soon as she slipped the card out, Jim felt something was wrong. Later, he realized the missing barcode on the Hallmark card he had purchased seemed peculiar, but at the moment, the specifics eluded him. Puzzlement on her face removed the smile from his. She stared at the card for a moment before peeking into the envelope and then looking back at him.
"Jim, sweety?" she said, her typical twang tinged with confusion. "What the hell is this?"
Anne Marie flipped the card around to reveal a note of letters clipped from magazines and newspapers and pasted to the page. "There are more where these came from" the note read and was signed with a bloody fingerprint. He knew the envelope held three fingernails without having to look.
"What the hell is this?" Something more akin to anger and aggravation had seeped into her voice.
Jim stared silently, mouth agape. Suddenly, he jumped out of his seat and emptied all of his pockets onto the table. Wallet, watch, lighter, coins, paperclip, lint - he continued digging in his pants and shirt and jacket until he knew there was nothing else to find. Defeated, he sat down and placed his head on the table in the midst of the debris from his search. "I mixed up the envelopes", he mumbled to himself, oblivious to his companion's shocked and bewildered look.
Across town, another woman stood in the middle of a room, holding another open card envelope and staring at a different man. Light from a crystal chandelier hanging from a vaulted ceiling revealed a ballroom large enough to hold Hank's Town Tavern as well as Jim and Anne Marie's double wide and still have room for the squad of detectives who had turned it into their command center. The woman had made no attempts to disguise her haggardness with makeup and her unusually unkempt hair was stuffed under a baseball cap. For the first time in a week, the grief, worry, and anger she had grown so accustomed to feeling had lifted, only to be replaced by shock and confusion. She looked to her husband who stood by her side. He had taken off his glasses and was rubbing his nose, so the only face she saw clearly was that of his Rolex. He replaced his glasses and looked again at the contents of her hands, but he could only reply with a blank stare, his face a living question mark.
They both looked to Detective Holmes who stood across from them. He took the items from the woman (both were wearing gloves, careful not to pollute the evidence). He flipped through each item carefully. First, a standard size Hallmark card envelope - unremarkable in any way that he could see - addressed to the Smiths. Second, a birthday card taken out of the envelope which was made out to someone named Anne Marie and signed by a Jim. Last, two tickets to the Southern Alabama Monster Truck Super Rally also taken from the envelope.
Detective Holmes stared at the items deeply before looking back at the troubled couple.
"What does this mean?" the wife asked.
"Well, I'm going to have to confer with my colleagues on this, ma'am. But, at first glance, this seems to confirm our worst fears, Mrs. Smith. Your daughter was kidnapped by an idiot."
As soon as she slipped the card out, Jim felt something was wrong. Later, he realized the missing barcode on the Hallmark card he had purchased seemed peculiar, but at the moment, the specifics eluded him. Puzzlement on her face removed the smile from his. She stared at the card for a moment before peeking into the envelope and then looking back at him.
"Jim, sweety?" she said, her typical twang tinged with confusion. "What the hell is this?"
Anne Marie flipped the card around to reveal a note of letters clipped from magazines and newspapers and pasted to the page. "There are more where these came from" the note read and was signed with a bloody fingerprint. He knew the envelope held three fingernails without having to look.
"What the hell is this?" Something more akin to anger and aggravation had seeped into her voice.
Jim stared silently, mouth agape. Suddenly, he jumped out of his seat and emptied all of his pockets onto the table. Wallet, watch, lighter, coins, paperclip, lint - he continued digging in his pants and shirt and jacket until he knew there was nothing else to find. Defeated, he sat down and placed his head on the table in the midst of the debris from his search. "I mixed up the envelopes", he mumbled to himself, oblivious to his companion's shocked and bewildered look.
Across town, another woman stood in the middle of a room, holding another open card envelope and staring at a different man. Light from a crystal chandelier hanging from a vaulted ceiling revealed a ballroom large enough to hold Hank's Town Tavern as well as Jim and Anne Marie's double wide and still have room for the squad of detectives who had turned it into their command center. The woman had made no attempts to disguise her haggardness with makeup and her unusually unkempt hair was stuffed under a baseball cap. For the first time in a week, the grief, worry, and anger she had grown so accustomed to feeling had lifted, only to be replaced by shock and confusion. She looked to her husband who stood by her side. He had taken off his glasses and was rubbing his nose, so the only face she saw clearly was that of his Rolex. He replaced his glasses and looked again at the contents of her hands, but he could only reply with a blank stare, his face a living question mark.
They both looked to Detective Holmes who stood across from them. He took the items from the woman (both were wearing gloves, careful not to pollute the evidence). He flipped through each item carefully. First, a standard size Hallmark card envelope - unremarkable in any way that he could see - addressed to the Smiths. Second, a birthday card taken out of the envelope which was made out to someone named Anne Marie and signed by a Jim. Last, two tickets to the Southern Alabama Monster Truck Super Rally also taken from the envelope.
Detective Holmes stared at the items deeply before looking back at the troubled couple.
"What does this mean?" the wife asked.
"Well, I'm going to have to confer with my colleagues on this, ma'am. But, at first glance, this seems to confirm our worst fears, Mrs. Smith. Your daughter was kidnapped by an idiot."
