Creativity!?

In an effort to be more creative and spur some writing, my friend John and I have decided to get a collection of ten words each week and write a vignette, a little short story. Anyway, here are last weeks words, which we got from the woman who works at the local bookstore I frequent. I'm providing the definitions because some of them are really weird.

LIST:
argon: a colorless, inert gaseous element constituting 1% of the earth's atmosphere
perpetual: lasting for eternity
cupcake: a small cake
windcheater: a windbreaker
viscous: of a glutinous nature or consistency, thick, adhesive
Seder: a ceremonial dinner held on the 1st night of Passover
fitchy: the point of the sword at the bottom of the cross
spilikin: from the children's game 'spilikins and jackstraws' (involves throwing straws on the ground and trying to pick them up w/in a time limit)
checkrow: one of a number of rows of trees or plants with equal distance between each other
klatch: an informal, impromptu social gathering

And here's what I wrote when I used them in my story. I just started writing, and this is where it ended up. Definitely unexpected, but I was pleased with the way it turned out.

Strange Seder by Jennifer Foley

I had a feeling it was going to be a strange Seder. I knew something wasn’t going to go well before we even walked into the house. I mean, first of all, we never go over to Aunt Goldberg’s house. Her mom scares the kids, the way she lurches around and throws her wrist in everyone’s face. As if we all weren’t already transfixed by the faded tattoo on her arm. And, even worse, she always starts swearing at me in Yiddish—like I betrayed her and all the other survivors by marrying someone who wasn’t Jewish. He had nothing to do with the Holocaust and I decided a long time ago that the Jewish faith had nothing to do with me.

We pulled into the long, winding driveway and I stared listlessly at the seemingly perpetual checkrows of fir trees. They looked distinctly out of place without snow surrounding them and Christmas lights adorning them. I always did think it was ironic that my Jewish aunt and uncle managed a Christmas tree farm. I told Rick this, and he laughed, saying something about how people had to make a living as he slid into a parking spot in front of the bare ranch house.

The sky was churning above us, a viscous soup of storm clouds the color of a fresh bruise. There was a cool breeze coming from the direction of poultry plant, and I held my breath, an old habit. It took me a second to realize that I didn’t smell the usual fetid aroma that comes from such a place. I figured that maybe the owners were Jewish, and had taken off for the Seder.

“Don’t expect anything too remarkable,” I sighed as I grabbed my windcheater and stepped out of the car.

“Jude, don’t worry. What could they possibly dislike?” Rick grabbed the cupcakes he made and stood in front of me, smiling like an overgrown boy scout. I practically snorted with laughter when I looked at him.

“It’s Judith around my family, and first of all, you’re not Jewish,” I reached over to him and tucked his cross necklace under his shirt, “and that fitchy cross you’re wearing probably won’t go over well. I wasn’t kidding when I told you they’re religious. Second, you brought cupcakes to Seder.”

He just smiled at me, kissed me on the cheek and started for the door. I loved that he didn’t care about what my family thought, but I was nearly cringing just thinking about what they would say. I squared my shoulders and walked forward. I probably looked like I was headed to my last meal on death row.

We walked in and, strangely enough, it was quiet. The kid’s spilikins and jackstraws were strewn across the kitchen floor and there was still matzo scattered across the counter. I mean, this was just a klatch, nothing formal, but usually you couldn’t get a moment of peace in this house. I could hear the TV on in the next room, spitting out the usual blathering.

“An argon leak from a local poultry plant has affected nearly a third of Cook County. Please keep in mind this odorless gas is extremely dangerous and used as an asphyxiant…”

I stopped listening to the anchor on TV at the same time Rick let the cupcakes crash to the floor. There was the family, laying inert and lifeless in the family room, looking both peaceful and stricken at the same time.