No Time for Games
& Other Stories
By Amanda Lawrence Auverigne
Copyright © 2011 by Amanda Lawrence Auverigne Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
“Dad, it’s way too hot to cut the grass now. Can’t it wait till tomorrow?” Louisa Radcliffe asked.
“No it can’t,” Dan Radcliffe replied.
The middle aged man kneeled on the heated patch of asphalt in front of his teenage daughter.
The narrow walkway was situated in between two plots of moderately sized grass that served as the front yard. The grass in each plot of land was filled with thick tufts of overgrown grass.
Small flecks of yellow could be seen interspersed between the tall blades of grass where hundreds of flourishing yellow dandelion blossoms hovered.
A large house of pale gray stone lay a few yards away from the grassy area.
A large oak tree jutted from the grass on the right side of the house.
The front porch of the dwelling was composed of concrete and a small wicker couch, two chairs and a table rested on the far corner of the platform a few feet away from the closed steel door.
Several brass wind chimes hung from the ceiling of the porch near the door and the metal hangings released low tinkling sounds as a faint heated breeze passed through the quiet space.
The sun shone down brightly from overhead and the illumination from the star bathed the entire neighborhood in near blinding yellow light.
Dan Radcliffe wiped at the sweat that had gathered at his brow while he kneeled on the walkway.
A large red lawn mower rested on the ground in front of him. A small dented can of motor oil lay on the stone path a few inches away from the mower.
The middle aged man held a large red plastic container of gasoline in his hand. He poured a small amount of the clear sharp scented fuel into the circular opening that rested on the right side of the mower. He lowered the fuel container to the ground before snatching a large black cap from stone path.
Dan leaned forward slightly and he twisted the black cap onto the opened fuel spout on the grass cutter.
“Alright, Louisa. The mower’s all filled up and ready to go,” Dan said.
“But Dad, it’s supposed to be like two hundred degrees today,” Louisa said. “I’ll get the heat stroke of if try to push that two ton thing around the yard.”
“You promised to mow the grass, Louisa.”