Wednesday's Words on a Friday

On Wednesdays, Delores, from Under The Porch Light, has a meme which she calls

“Words for Wednesday”.

She puts up a selection of six words which we then use in a short story, or a poem.

I’m hopeless at poetry so I always do a story.

It’s a fun challenge…why not join in?

This week's words are:

1. cardboard

2. variety

3. raspberry

4. trounced

5. inflamed

6. gangrene

aaand...... 

1. frenetic

2. feisty

3. fiendish

4. fabulous

5. fairy

6. fragrant

Here is my story:

As a child, Cordelia Silkie had been stubborn and strong willed. That is one determined child, her mother would say, her Dad called her feisty.

She would lead her younger siblings with fiendish glee into all kinds of minor troubles and fabulous adventures. Like the time they had all sat in trees along Watson Avenue and dropped water balloons on the heads of people walking by.......

Once she became a teenager, the frenetic pace of life in the Silkie household increased exponentially. Not only were the siblings involved in a variety of experiences new to them, but there were the boyfriends as well. Cordelia seemed to have an army of them, taking her out for ice-cream, going to the movies, holding study afternoons when there was to be a test at school the next day.

The younger children looked on in awe as Cordelia ruled the roost. She knew what she wanted and somehow always managed to get it. 

Not that she was selfish or mean in any way; Cordelia simply mapped out her life, then forged ahead with those plans. 

In grade five she had been determined to be the Fairy Queen in the class play, with bouquets of fragrant roses pinned to the skirts of her costume and by the end of term, Mrs Clarkson had been convinced that Cordelia was the best person for the role. 

In the spelling bees, Cordelia had continually trounced her rivals for top place all year.

By the end of high school and throughout college, Cordelia's plan had been to marry Angelo Carmine.

This attitude to life was now playing a part in keeping her spirits up and making little jokes with the nurses.

Cordelia, known as Grandma Silkie, (although her name was now Carmine), was 75 years old, sitting by the bed of her husband Angelo, watching as his chest rose and fell, rose and fell, while machines beeped and hummed on the other side. The heart monitor showed a steady pattern while maintaining a constant blip, blip, blip, sound which was immensely reassuring.

Angelo had been gardening in the zucchini patch and somehow managed to hack into his foot with the hoe, while Cordelia was away visiting Nicholas and the newest great grandbaby, Daniel. By the time she came home three days later, the wound was badly inflamed and festering; they'd had a furious argument about why hadn't he immediately gone to see the doctor and why hadn't he been wearing his boots?

"It's just a cut, it will get better soon," Angelo insisted. He'd always had a not-quite-fear of doctors, saying all they ever wanted to do was sell you pills and stick you with needles unnecessarily. 

The next day, Cordelia was alarmed at how black his toes were looking and began to worry about gangrene. Angelo had woken up feverish and feeling quite ill; he could no longer deny the need for a doctor. Cordelia drove him to the emergency department at the hospital.

After a very short examination, Dr Johns had called for a gurney and Angelo had been taken to an operating theatre. Cordelia had been right to worry, Angelo's toes were a lot worse off than he'd thought. Two of them had been amputated to save the rest of the foot; now Angelo was in this tiny recovery room, hooked up to machines while Cordelia sat quietly waiting for him to wake up. 

Dr Johns had been in a few minutes earlier and spoken to her about antibiotics and how to care for the foot once Angelo was home again. Cordelia had taken notes and determined that this time, Angelo would be following doctor's orders, right down to the smallest detail. 

While she thought about the telling-off he was going to get from her, Cordelia picked up the large cardboard box of chocolates her daughters Angela and Georgina had brought in.

The panicked looks on their faces at the thought of losing their Dad, all because he was too stubborn to seek help, had quickly been replaced by relief when hearing that Angelo was going to be fine. His heart and lungs were strong and he should wake up from the anaesthetic in another hour or so. 

Cordelia rummaged through the variety of chocolates in the box and selected her favourite, a raspberry cream.