In Which Yaya Writes

United States

^Tully My Chick^
Lil sis calls me Yaya
Dancing in Public
Moving to Africa

Message to Readers

Again, thank you so much!! I am so happy that y'all decided to review and comment even when I started SO late! But y'all are amazing!

Ay, Grammarly switched my tone from "Worried," to "Optimistic!" Wooh! And this is... "Admiring," :).

In Which Les the Possum, Timothy Legonawy, and Trini Abasolo Abel are Caught in an Attic

November 17, 2020

On the first of January, I, Timothy Legonawy was sitting in a stale attic on Meadowlark Lane in a small town in New York state, wrapped in blankets. It was a large house with multiple rooms, beautiful furniture, wonderful décor, and two stories, not including the attic. The Mrs.’ favorite item was a large family portrait that hung above the fireplace.  
   Mr. Farrington was a broad man with deep brown skin, a black suit and blue tie, and a shining, bald head like a watermelon. He rarely smiled- since he was a prestigious prosecution lawyer- unless his granddaughter, Patricia, was visiting, bringing drawings she made and a kiss. Mrs. Farrington was a short, slim woman with light brown skin, a tight, dark bun that remained on her head after she retired from the journalism business, and preferred floral print. Mrs. Farrington ran a Garden Club for the other wives on Meadowlark Lane. The couple was celebrating the New Year with a party, complete with wine and a 5-course meal. The guests invited were the Wells', the Dandridges, the Anworths, and the Winfields.  
   As the guests arrived, I began reading Anne of Green Gables to my dear friend, Les the Possum, although Les the Opossum is his full title. He was a lazy marsupial with a thick coat and a rather large middle, who preferred classic books over modern novels. I had brought him a large piece of fruit to nibble on as I read aloud. Les did not seem interested in this chapter, although I found it quite enjoyable. The most enjoyable thing he seemed to find up until this point in our evening was the fruit he was eating. In fact, it was rare Les seemed interested in a book, although in particularly emotional or intense chapters I swear I could see him emote. Granted, it is hard to tell with possums.  
   Eventually, I got distracted and began listening to the conversation happening below. Mrs. Farrington was chatting with Mrs. Dandridge, a blonde woman with a large fur coat, about her garden, and how her roses were flourishing from a dose of Frank Sinatra every morning. Mr. Farrington was talking about a particularly complicated case he was working, which involved the murder of Mrs. Jones and her pet boa constrictor. The details were gruesome, so I continued reading the cheerier book of Anne of Green Gables.  
   As one tends to do when sitting in an attic with a possum with no manners, I began thinking about the first time I met Les. I climbed into the attic of Mr. and Mrs. Farrington after a dinner of meatloaf with my grandmother. Her group of card players came, and she ordered me to my room to complete my homework. My grandmother was a short, bony woman with thin, frizzy white hair that revealed a pink scalp, and had pale skin. She was not a maternal woman and often sent me out in the cold to care for her garden. I dislike admitting it, but I look much like my grandmother. I am two feet taller than her but am also lanky and skinny and have pale skin. I also have thick, brown hair, which I wear in the same style every day. 
   Not wanting to stay in my grandmother’s house with the often-unruly cardplayers, I decided to take a trip to the Farrington’s. Knowing a possum lived in the attic, I wanted to make a good first impression, and looked up “Opossums,” in the Encyclopedia. They eat an assortment of things, including fruit. So, I brought some left-over honeydew from my fridge, sneaking past the card players, who were now drinking alcohol.  
  In the attic, Les pretended to die, which I had read is normal behavior for possums, but was incredibly impolite, since I had brought him some fruit to eat. I knew, of course, that he was not dead, but all the same, it was frightening. I knelt next to him, praying he would not bite me, and began saying “Wake up, little possum,” in a squeaky whisper, knowing full well he was not sleeping, nor was he little. He decided I was trustworthy enough to sit up after I repeated the lie for the hundredth time. He stared skeptically at the plate of honeydew. He must have decided it was better than the food he would have scavenged that night because he began to eat it- gorge it, I would say- as I pulled out my eleventh-grade math homework. Slowly, we became friends, and he let me name him. 
   Now that I was deep in thought and thoroughly cut off from the outside world, I did not hear a figure climbing up the lattice to the attic.
   “Hello!” She announced, sticking her green-eyed, snow-covered head inside the attic, avoiding the low beams. She startled me, causing me to shriek, and she startled Les, who pretended to die, fruit juice trickling down his fur onto his straw bed. “I’m Trini Abasolo Abel.”   
   “What was that?” Mr. Farrington said from downstairs. After months of peacefully sitting up in this attic, above the Farrington’s, without ever alerting them of my presence, Trini Abasolo Abel had caused me to shriek and startle the guests below.  

   “Heavens, it could be a rat!” Mrs. Farrington screeched as Trini continued talking. She said she was gloomy because her classmates had made fun of her hand-me-down clothes and large glasses, but she thought I would not, since I spent most of my evenings in an attic of a house which I did not live in. Oh, and what was my possum's name?  
   “I’ll see what it is,” Mr. Farrington announced.  
   I quickly grabbed my book, Les, still lying belly-up on the floor, and the arm of Trini, trying to drag her out of the attic. But before I could, Mr. Farrington opened the cobweb-covered hatch to the attic and called for someone to dial the police.  

   There were two robbers and a dead possum in his attic. 
Draft #: FINAL (I'll change the title soon)
Word Count: 1,000

This is based on my November Grab Bag entry "A Bag of Stories Involving a Possum and an Inter Dimensional Letter, Among Other Things" where Les the Possum and the interdimensional letter from Dimension 2 Yaya were the most popular. But I really had no idea what I could write that would be (semi) realistic until I thought of this and I was like "YES!" I introduced a few new characters and went in more depth on who the characters were, hopefully.

I was playing around with a different style when I originally wrote this; I was trying a Roald Dahl style. Now I added some style from I book I read called Lake Wobegon Days (although I wouldn't recommend reading it unless you're cautious, because there was cussing and a few inappropriate scenes), which parts of were really funny. Hopefully, this is too. 

Thanks so much for the reviews from musicmaker, Lata.B, V-Rose, and Cosomogyral! Y'all were so, so helpful!! And thank you so much to those of you who commented and liked!

Thank you for reading!

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  • Rachaelgrace

    Hiiiiiii!!!!! :) I love this story! I also LOVE your Isaac Newton quote <3

    6 months ago
  • Stone of Jade

    re: haha that is soo funny! Legit i was shocked when i read the street name. I love the name of my street Meadowlark just sounds so peaceful. plus we have an awesome view of the mountains behind us so its super nice.
    Alsooo Im so glad you liked the story! I am going to publish the rest of it in chapters-- if you want to be updated when I post I can add you to the list!

    6 months ago
  • Rose A(hiatus)

    Re: Yay! We can be co-founders or something. Anyone who spells opossum correctly gets an invitation.
    Snow days are fun, but the next day is torture. In the morning, the roads are icy and brown and gross. I might be writing about them, but we don't get much snow where I live. I also agree that you don't get too old for Halloween. Most people I know have "outgrown" it, though.

    6 months ago
  • Anne Blackwood

    Re: Thanks! Based on what you just said about the small town you were in, it's probably about the same size as the one I live in now. Our biggest accomplishment (imo) is getting a trendy coffee place before either of the *somewhat* bigger towns near us did.
    Yes, I'd love critique on any of my potential competition entries (I'll probably post a couple more today).
    Um no, I actually had him read this one (the possum one) because it's hilarious, adorable, and it feels like a storybook.

    6 months ago
  • Anne Blackwood

    I had my dad read this aloud to my brother and I like when we were little, and it was such a wonderful experience. Good luck!

    6 months ago
  • anemoia (#words)

    This is still hilarious, but with depth and the intrigue of a murder mystery! " I swear I could see him emote." XD XD Best of luck!
    Re: thank you! i guess that's kind of what i'm going for on those pieces. i like how it sounds and looks all jumbled together, and i hope other enjoy it in whatever way strikes them. as for the thanksgiving song... exactly! i mean, thanksgiving is way more important and beloved then halloween (i think.) family gatherings, coziness, feasts and comfort food, sometimes football... and there's only one song about it?! i mean, i realize that thanksgiving is anything but enjoyable and cozy for some people, and i hope that improves and is used for good, and this year is looking a little different, but yk what i mean. ;)

    6 months ago