Devonne Brown

I’m guilty of letting life happen around me. Goals have never been my strong suit unless I’m doing something stupid. I buy ridiculous houses, interview for jobs I’m too old for, or marry the worst kind of narcissist.

The goals of mine that worked out I set for my boys. Make good grades, be involved in school, graduate from college. They did all of those things. Sometimes their involvement in school took a bizarre turn. When they were in the ninth grade, they both ran for president of their class. There was one winner, the other brother wasn’t happy. Weirdness reigned in our home for about a week until the other brother realized the responsibilities of class president, and he became glad he lost. 

The older of the twins finished college in four years with many scholarships. The younger of the two finished college in six years. They both had private graduations on a beautiful island in Canada. The last of my goals had been realized.

Now, at nearly 65, I must set some goals about retirement. When will I retire? What retirement package will I choose? What will I be able to afford? The boys’ dad managed to take my retirement many years ago, so I have a very small pension and only social security. I suppose my goal is to die before I get too sick or immobilized to afford to live.

My present goal is to sell my real estate for a profit. I’ll let my brother-in-law, the smart one of the family, handle it. He’ll sell the property see it’s diversified, and distributed as monthly income. There is however, a glitch. Dad’s ex wife still lives. As long as the bitch lives, my sister and I cannot sell the property. Is it terrible that I look for her obituary on a regular basis? When I report the news to my sister, she expresses the same dismay that I experience. Is it a goal to wish to read her death notice?

So, what does this have to do with the WV Writers conference? I want to learn the best way to turn these words into flash fiction and have it published under my name. Of course I’d explain why I called her a “bitch” and why I look for her death notice regularly. I won’t get into that here. I can’t do the story justice in this short amount of time we have. 

Her kids intend to fight us for the property, but the deed is already registered, the legal work done, the agreement made. We’re signed, sealed, delivered. Our LLC, our family CPA protected us. Bring it, bitch. You’re going in a story.