This week, we're back in the Supers Universe with Stanley West and his mentor, Ms. Truseau a few weeks after "Meeting Ms. Truseau." You don't have to have read that one or be familiar with the Supers Universe to understand the story though.
Or you can listed to the audio version.
“How long have you been standing there?”
Ms. Truseau smirked. “Longer than you’d like.”
Stanley could feel a blush spreading up his neck all the way to his ears. It was like the shame itself burned.
Truseau rolled her eyes and waved one wrinkled, ringed hand in the air. “Enough of that,” she said. “A bit of self-talk is healthy. It’s our mind’s way cementing information.” The old woman shrugged. “So you speak out loud instead of in your head. It’s all the same.”
Stanley fidgeted as his mentor stepped into the room. He knew everything she said was true. He’d studied it in psychology last year, but it didn’t make being caught talking to himself any less embarrassing. The closer Truseau came, the more Stanley dropped his eyes until he found himself staring at a pair of bright pink shoes that matched the woman’s garish nails.
Truseau went up on her toes and grasped his chin, using it to make him look her in the eyes. “I know I tease, but you do what you need for the lessons to sink in, little Lee Lee.” She released his chin and patted his cheek the same way she’d done to his dad and chuckled. “What happens during your lessons is confidential,” Truseau said. “I will speak of this incident to no one else.”
“Thank you, Ms. Truseau,” Stanley mumbled.
The old woman grinned at him and gestured wide with her her hands. Rings and bangles rattled until she clapped, covering over the minor cacophony caused by her expressive adornments. “Good,” she said as she turned and started back out of the room. “Go change, eat some breakfast, and we will begin today’s training.”
“What’s wrong with this?” Stanley asked, tugging at the tee he wore with a pair of athletic shorts he’d used in gym last year. “It’s what I’ve been wearing to train in for the past two weeks, and I washed it yesterday. So don’t say it stinks.”
“Those rags are fine for here, but we’re moving beyond the compound today,” Truseau answered.
Truseau stopped just outside the door and turned to give him a lopsided smile over her shoulder. “You’re taking me to the market.”
Stanley felt his forehead scrunch up as he tried to figure out what market she was talking about. Ms. Truseau lived in a town hours away from Adensville, and her compound was miles away from anywhere big enough to have more than a gas station and dollar store. She’d had him studying pictures of a farmer’s market in a town upstate, but he didn’t have a clue how to get there aside from bamphing.
Eyes going wide, he looked back to the older woman.
“Yes, that market,” she laughed.
“I’ve never gone that far,” Stanley protested. “I’ve never been there, and I can barely side along!”
“Have faith in yourself,” Truseau chided. “And in me. Haven’t I proven I can tell when a bamph will go badly?”
Each story in this series is 500 words or less and is prompted by a first line taken either from a random first prompt like this one or reader suggestions like "Don't Forget Me" and "Culture Shock." I much prefer working from reader suggestions over generators, but to do that, I need to hear from you.
If you have a prompt you'd like to see done, comment below, send it to my Tumblr asks, Tweet it at me, or leave a comment on any of the audio stories from this series. I'll screen shot it, write it, and post it for you.
In addition to working as a freelance writer, A. B. England is a novelist, all around geek, avid crafter, and a homeschooling mother of two.
She is an autistic creator with a love of mythology, fantasy, and all flavors of science fiction.
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