The exercise:
Write about: the kidnapper.
Back in Vancouver for the night. Very tired.
Mine:
We managed to successfully catch the ferry off the Island this afternoon, despite arriving two cars too late to catch the sailing we'd aimed for. Thankfully they'd added an extra sailing just an hour later, due to the Easter long weekend, so we didn't have long to wait.
Added sailings tend to be much quieter than their scheduled counterparts, and this one was no different. Plenty of seats to choose from, a relaxed atmosphere - it's nice.
About five minutes after the boat left its berth, we met a woman who was sitting with a couple of male friends. She was gushing over how cute Max is (which we're kinda used to by now), but a little more intensely than I expected.
She was talking about how much she wanted to kiss him and eventually Kat invited her over to do just that. It was pretty cute. Then, after returning to her seat, she jokingly (I think) offered to hold him if Kat's back got tired. She said she was missing her kids (a three-year-old and a six-year-old), who were not with her on her current trip.
Or so she claimed.
A bit later, after Max kept smiling and making funny noises in her general direction, she asked if it would be creepy if she took a picture of him. No, of course not, we said.
Only just a little bit.
Then she started talking about how she wanted to take him home with her and how she had to go back to her seat because she just couldn't handle being that close to him and on and on. It was very sweet and Max definitely enjoyed the attention.
Thankfully it was a really nice day out so shortly after that we took Max for a walk on the outside deck and did not return to that area of the ferry.
While most of what I just shared was written with tongue firmly planted in cheek, she was definitely walking a fine line between acceptable and too much. I certainly don't think she would have actually tried to kidnap Max, but I think Kat and I were both more comfortable once we found a less... awkward place to spend the rest of the ride.
5 comments:
That sounds like quite an eventful trip, and I know what you mean about a stranger who is just a little bit too friendly. I'm sure there are genuine people out there who really are that friendly and find the rest of us a bit hostile and unyielding, but I don't know how you tell them apart from strangers who overstep social lines.
I like how your italics add just a spicing of menace to the piece; not too much, just enough to warn the reader that something might be brewing, ready to crash on to the scene.
And I'm glad you found somewhere else on the ferry to enjoy the rest of the trip. With a busier ferry that might have been harder.
The kidnapping
Lissajous stood on the threshold of the shop. This being Wesson Street the shopkeepers were quite particular about who they let in, and though Lissajous was straining to move, the air in the doorway had somehow solidified and was holding him at the threshold.
"We're closed! Go away!" The voice came out from the back of the shop, but a person to go with it never materialised.
"I'm looking for Stephanie!" Lissajous called back. There were several moments of silence, and then footsteps. A man appeared through a bead-curtain, crying, and carrying a large Chinese cleaver. Lissajous held his ground.
"Stephanie's been kidnapped," he said. The pressure on the door dropped suddenly, and Lissajous staggered through. Then he felt himself pushed forward as the pressure reinstated itself, now behind him. "What do you know about that?"
never ever let a stranger get that close to a child, no matter what the sob story.
i was in UK once babysitting and walking baby when a couple came up and wanted to me take a photo holding this bub. they were kind of foreign so i feigned foreigness and said no photo, no photo, and wheeled us well away.
in this day and age people shouldn't think of getting that familiar with kids, given that taking their photos is even virtually illegal now.
you and your child's comfort comes first, not the stranger's.
always remember that.
Greg - yeah, that's the thing. I hate being distrustful but also hate the thought of trusting the wrong person.
Ooh, I want a doorway that works like that!
Writebite - stories like that give me the creeps. Possibly innocent intentions, but just the thought of them being otherwise... ugh.
Marc, that's a creepy story. If I were trying to be nice, I would just tell the lady you all had the flu and cough in her face. If I were being myself, I'd say "excuse me, I'm not comfortable with strangers." Creeps sure do love babies.
As I grew, the restrictions in my upbringing grew too. By not being allowed to do anything, we can all thank my conservative Catholic parents for teaching me the art of sneaking in and breaking out of houses.
I am grown now, and I still want things. There are 3 beautiful children in that house. I have done this once before, but my adrenalin is pumping now. I don't want to wake them. The one on the top bunk is the hardest, but she's the one that is going first. I managed to slide her down the ladder and get her into the car with only a little sleep talk. The middle one on the bottom bunk never woke. The baby cried a little, but she settled down once she was in the car. 3 beautiful, perfect children. Mine. All mine. They all slept soundly until the hotel. I delivered them in the same way I brought them out. Only the middle started crying. He wants his mommy. He wants to know where he is. I slowly walked to him and I said,
"Hi sweet boy. I love you. Mommy's here. We are going to have breakfast with Mickey Mouse in a few hours. Go back to bed, Buddy."
"Where's Daddy?" he asked with a sob.
"I'm here, Bud. We're at Disney World to see Mickey again. I love you. Go to sleep." Daddy said.
After he fell asleep again, my husband turned to me with a youthful smile and said, "My God. I forgot how good you were at sneaking out of the house."
Mo - that's a well performed twist at the end there, you had my mind going in a very different direction.
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