Summertime Movie Set

Stephany Luithly

The summer before our fourth-grade year, my best friend Jenna came with me to visit my dad in Fayetteville, Georgia. Of course, she wasn’t going to be there for the full three months I would be, but three weeks seemed like a good amount of time for her to go on a vacation with me. My older brother, Jeremy, was going into his sixthgrade year, so it was the first summer we could all stay home during the day while my dad and stepmom went to work.

Our daily routine started with waking up (usually around noon) and then going through the list of chores that were left for us. After that, we would usually eat lunch and then we had the rest of the day to ourselves. One afternoon, we decided that we were going to write and create a murder movie. Well, Jeremy decided to take advantage of the recent news of Jenna’s commercial audition in Colorado being successful in finding her a talent agency. Jenna was excited about his idea to freshen up on her acting chops and me? I was along for the ride because what else was I going to do?

In this production, Jeremy was the murderer who snuck into the house, killed the mother (played by me), and Jenna was the teenage daughter who would find her mother. I admit it’s a little dark for three kids, but it was our plan that day.

The first few scenes went perfectly. Then, things got really interesting. I was playing my part, ketchup for blood and everything, laying on the floor, and Jeremy said to Jenna in his directing voice, “Okay, now you’ll call the police to report it and we’ll go from there.”

Jenna picked up the receiver of the old, only for looks, rotary phone in the kitchen and physically dialed 9-1-1. She spoke into the receiver, even though there was no dial tone on the other end, “Help! My mother’s been murdered!”

“Wait, wait, wait . . . ” Jeremy interrupted, “That wasn’t convincing at all. Let’s try it one more time with a little more scaredness.”

His eleven-year-old brain was moving like Quentin Tarantino’s. So, she followed directions, and picked the phone up once more. The fact that the dial tone wasn’t present made us believe the phone didn’t work at all, but I had a weird feeling in my stomach about her nonchalantly dialing 9-1-1 anyway.

“Jenna . . . I think you can just pretend to dial the numbers. That phone might still end up calling the police.” Jeremy’s irritation at me interrupting was obvious as he side-eyed me.

“Steph… it’s fine. The phone doesn’t work,” she insisted.

“But what if it does and it’s just the ear thing that’s broken?” I knew I’d end up losing the argument—I was the little sister, after all.

So Jenna physically dialed the three numbers a couple more times after I laid back down in my ketchup dead position as the scene was perfected. After several more takes though, I was sick of just being a prop and cleaned the ketchup off and let them keep going. I walked by the front windows and noticed a couple of police cars parked along our lot. It was a corner lot and they were parked on either side of the corner.

“Jeremy! I think the police are here.”

He came to look out the window and rolled his eyes at his younger, paranoid sister and said, “Mind your own business. They’re probably doing something with the neighbors.”

I pushed the nagging gut feeling I had aside and went into my bedroom upstairs to try and find some clothes to change into since my pajamas were now stained with red from my work in the movie. When I walked back downstairs, I looked out the window again, except this time, the gut feeling was more than that. There were four more police cars, facing our house, parked in the street, and all six police officers were perched between their windshield and drivers’ doors with their weapons drawn and ready for whatever would come next.

“Uhm . . . JEREMY, THIS IS DEFINITELY OUR BUSINESS!”

Jeremy and Jenna ran up to the front window and all of us fell completely silent aside from our deep, fear-dripping breaths. The “fight-or-flight” instinct kicked in shortly after, and for me, flight was the move. I ran upstairs to Jeremy’s room to look out his blinds stealthily while Jeremy and Jenna walked out slowly with their arms up. Picture an eleven-year-old and eight-year-old walking out of a house that could be a murder scene, Jeremy in his basketball shorts and oversized t-shirt, and Jenna clad in her matching plaid pajama shorts and tank-top set. My shallow breaths picked up as I watched them talk to a police officer who slowly approached them after putting his weapon back in the holster. A few minutes later, after they had seemingly explained our movie to them, they both walked back into the house with shoulders that were no longer carrying the threat of being shot.

The police just packed up and left. They didn’t come into the house; they didn’t call our parents and explain what had happened and none of the neighbors ever said anything if they ever saw anything. A few years later, Jeremy and I were talking with our dad and his wife about it, and they were shocked to hear this had happened.

“We just figured you didn’t say anything to us to torture us,” I snickered.

“It’s actually kind of concerning that they didn’t come into the house to check that the coast was clear. What if there really was a murder that took place, and you were threatened to walk out there and explain it to them?” My dad’s face was crunched up with worry.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing there wasn’t, and everyone turned out alright,” Jeremy said with a shrug and a blank face.

Golden Coat

Matthew

Bratsch

Your fleece golden coat once Bounced with joy and adventure. You jumped upon The soft couch where we sat. From a

Cheerful plea for fun outside. To be awoken at midnight

By your cries for comfort and cuddles. You always watched over the dreary Street, calmly waiting for us while

You rested. Remembering the moment, you, and I

Shared on the dock. When we looked out to the lake and pondered

What our future would be. Then came the day you left, my heart weak

And choking. I thought I could move on and

Forget the hole you left. Now my mind wonders, dreaming and weary.

Autumn

Leaves fall silently, Time is spent in pure color, The wind carries our gentle souls.