Fiction Short Story

The Writer's E-Zine Home

Writers' Village University - F2K: Free Fiction Writing Course - ePress-online
Writers' Village University Membership Information

Fiction Short Story

by N.N. Nobes

The Lottery Ticket

"D'ja get what we needed?"

Ida Mae's voice pierced the tranquility of the hills. She dominated the front porch, hands on her hips, chest thrust out like a ship in full sail. Festus approached and held out the grocery bag as if offering a sacrifice to the gods.

"Yep. All you asked for, Sweet Pea."

He shifted from one foot to the other as she rifled through the bag.

"You forgot my movie magazine."

"Nope. Not really."

She gave him a withering stare. "You did too."

"Got us a lottery ticket instead."

Ida Mae glared. Festus lowered his head and drew the toe of his boot through the dirt.

"Humph." She thrust the bag back at him and marched back into the cabin.

Festus hesitated, then with a heavy sigh and heavier step dutifully followed her and caught the screen door with his foot before it slammed in his face.

"Ten million dollar jackpot, dearest." He gave her a placating smile and placed the bag on the kitchen table.

She whipped around, face dark with anger. "Why? Why waste our money?"

"Wanted to get you everything you've ever wished for."

"What I wanted was my magazine. What I wish for is to get away from you and these god-forsaken hills."

"You can't really mean that?" Festus's voice trembled.

He had loved Ida Mae from the first time he had set eyes on her. He had been standing with his friends on the porch of Trussler's Drug Store, chewing tobacco and the fat. She had sashayed by, her red-gold hair glinting in the sunlight, with her daddy, Pine Holler's new preacher. Without breaking her stride, she had given him a dazzling smile and a sly wink. He fell hard, and he didn't even know this angelic creature's name.

Town folk had been surprised when Festus, a lanky, plain-speaking man had married Ida Mae, the prettiest gal in Boone County, and took her to live with him in the hills. No one was more surprised than Festus himself, who couldn't believe his stroke of luck when she had proposed to him. What they didn't know was that Ida Mae had let a traveling salesman sample her own wares one night, and was convinced she was pregnant.

She couldn't bear to face her father's condemnations and saw Festus as her salvation from that hell and damnation. To her lasting regret, she discovered that, not only was she was not pregnant, she was now trapped in the hills, living with the dullest man she knew, one who worshipped the ground she walked on. She had always threatened to leave, but first lack of money, then lack of ambition, kept her in the Kentucky hills.

"Please Ida Mae, don't talk like that. You know how I care for you."

"Festus, if you cared, you'd have gotten us enough money so that we could be livin' in a big city like Evansville. At least we could have the good life there. They got stores and movie houses. Trouble is, you just don't have the brains or the heart to want something better."

He watched in mute despair as she began putting away the groceries with a vengeance. With a sigh, he went over to the fireplace and took his pipe and pouch of tobacco from the mantel. He scraped a match on the stone.

"Festus! Not smoking in here, are you?"

He quickly bent down and opened the damper. He held the glowing match to the kindling and watched the dry tinder burst into flame. "Just lighting the fire. Looks like it could get a might nippy tonight."

Shoving the tobacco pouch into his pocket, he went to the front door. He paused, hand on the doorknob. "Did you really mean what you said about living in Evansville?" He opened the door and looked out at the blue hills. "Mean, nothing's as beautiful as them hills, Ida...except maybe you." Festus still saw in Ida Mae's bloated face and wide hips, the slip of a girl he had married.

The bustling in the kitchen stopped. Ida Mae's voice softened with a sigh. "Festus, you're a good man, but I've always wanted more. Much more. I want to go to the honky-tonk, I want laughs...have a good time. You can understand that. Can't you?"

Festus hesitated, and without turning around said, "The lotto draw's in a few minutes. Maybe we could listen to it on the radio? What if we did win, Ida? What if we did? We'd have a good life then, wouldn't we?"

From the length of time it took her to answer, he knew in his heart that in spite of everything he had tried to do for her, she would bolt at the first opportunity and it frightened him. What would he do without her?

"Sure. 'Course I'd want to get me a facelift and some of that liposuction. My, oh my, I could be a real looker again. Be the belle of the ball." She continued on dreamily as he stepped onto the porch and shut the door behind him.

Settling down in the rocker, Festus filled his pipe and sniffed the fragrant aroma as he lit the tobacco. He reached into the front pocket of his overalls and pulled out the lottery ticket. Five numbers—five numbers for ten million dreams. He gently rubbed the ticket between his fingers. Five million dollars was still a lot of money if Ida Mae decided to take her half and leave. Five million could buy him a lot of happiness.

"Festus! Draw's on! Aren't you coming in?"

"Just going to finish my pipe, Sweet Pea." He took a long puff as he watched the sun begin to set behind the blue hills.

"Seven. First number's a seven." Ida Mae shouted from the cabin.

Festus looked at the ticket. Number seven.

"Four, it's a four. D'ja hear me?"

Festus looked again. Number four.

"Well, did we get any?"

"A couple, Ida Mae," he shouted back.

"Three!"

He squirmed in the rocker as he looked at the ticket.

"Eight!" Ida Mae gleefully called out.

Festus looked at the numbers, then gazed up at the hills with a sense of wonder, as the last rays of the sun washed the sky with crimson. His heart was full of love for this place, and he knew that he could never leave these hills anymore than he could live without Ida Mae.

He pulled out a match and scraped it on the bottom of his boot. The flame ignited the ticket and he watched it flare up, a tiny wisp of smoke curling above it.

"Nine! Did we get the number? Did we?" Ida Mae's voice was fairly bursting with anticipation at what the winnings would mean to her.

"You hear me?" She was at the door.

He dropped the paper as the fire singed his fingers, and ground what was left of the paper under the heel of his boot.

"Festus?" It was more a plea than a question.

Leaning back, he took a deep breath and blew out the match.

"Sorry, Ida Mae, we only got two numbers."

The door slammed shut.

Festus rocked, and smoked his pipe, and smiled.