?

Log in

No account? Create an account
cherry

Precocious, and the game of Pentanque

He stood. “This your daughter, Irene?”
“She is. Sweetie, you should let me introduce you to people. You know that.”
“All she said was she didn't know how to play petanque,” Nick explained.
“Oof...neither of us do.”
“So you need an experienced person on your team,” Nick smiled down at Shasta as he said it. “That's only fair, isn't it?”
“Oh, well...,” Mom looked to Simone for help, but she had started talking to someone else.
“Come on,” Nick picked up two boules and went to the edge of the square. Shasta followed with small steps, checking her own stability, hoping she wouldn't spoil it. She felt mom's fingers run down the side of her head to smooth her hair.
The game was simple. The goal was a little white ball called jack; you threw your boule to get it close as possible. If anyone got between you, you threw again to knock them away.

***********************

It has just dawned on me how pentanque is a symbol of the game Shasta is trying to play. She wants to knock out all other competition for Nick's affection, and get her mother closer. See, and I think I make these choices randomly! The creative process works without me, I swear, all those myths about receiving inspiration from muses would be laughable if they weren't eerily close to truth.

Comments

January 2015

S M T W T F S
    123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
25262728293031

Tags

Powered by LiveJournal.com