Trifecta Word Challenge: Hollow

Trifecta’s word this week is hollow with the definition: : lacking in real value, sincerity, or substance : false,meaningless <hollow promises> <a victory over a weakling is hollow and without triumph — Ernest Beaglehole> These are so fun, gotta go to the site and link up!

He knew her threats were hollow. Like every time she’d threaten to vacuum up all his Legos.

“I’m not finished,” he’d tell her, about some Lego project long since abandoned, its pieces left scattered across the playroom. Even ones so tiny, he could barely see them against the carpet’s mottled pattern.

She could see them. She’d nudge one with the tip of her slipper.  “One day, whatever is left here will wind up with the dust bunnies.”

This caught his attention away from the tiny brilliant Nintendo DS screen. “Dust bunnies?”

“Sure. Like under your bed. You know, where we find all your unread overdue library books. Then I suck up the bunnies, sometimes even along with your tooth fairy money.”

That may be true. He tends to toss the dimes he finds under his pillow, and they probably wind up on the floor somehow. The tooth fairy leaves whole bills under his friends’ pillows and all he gets are stupid coins.  If he suggests some disrespect toward the “fairy,” his mother rants on about some children not having enough coins even for a hot meal.

He forgot about the bunnies; Batman was after the bad buy on his tiny screen.  “Whatever….”

But the bunnies came back to him. In a nightmare a few nights later. After his mother’s threat, this time, didn’t turn out to be so hollow: when he came home from school, the playroom carpet was devoid of a single Lego.

Even the Lego bin was gone.

When he asked her where the bin was, she was too-carefully folding his old jeans out of the dryer.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t actually suck them up. But I did give them away. To some child who might not own a single Lego. And might actually appreciate them enough to put them all back when he’s done playing with them.”

That night, a large dust bunny ate him whole.

 

 

 


About Sandra

Author;editor of The Woven Tale Press at thewoventalepress.net; mother; weaver
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14 Responses to Trifecta Word Challenge: Hollow

  1. kgwaite says:

    Oh, the battle of the Legos. And the Bionicles. How many can you have?

  2. draug419 says:

    This was me as a kid–I never picked up my toys unless threatened. But dust bunnies were my friends lol

  3. Papparaci says:

    This was funny and a wise lesson to all of us, don’t anger Mom.

    • Sandra says:

      You bet — jut call me hurricane Momma (I actually do have an old post with that name) but this is ficiton:) I didn’t actually go so far as to get rid of the Legos. I just suck them up.

  4. Roshni says:

    Have you been to my house?!! That’s similar to a conversation I had with my son!! 😀

  5. Anne says:

    Oh yeah, this brings back so many good memories of my mom looking under my bed for my worldly treasures 🙂

  6. rashmenon says:

    i love the the way the story flows and of course, the dust bunnies

  7. Jennifer says:

    I loved this. I loved how I started out firmly in camp mom and then ended camp son. This was such a great theme of the hollow becoming real, the threat to give the legos away, the dust bunnies. I loved that both things came to pass. Nicely done!

  8. Brian says:

    Ah, a familiar battle – although usually I relented, thus saving my toys from the dust bunnies and the dust bin. Nice story!

  9. stephanie says:

    Loved it. It made me laugh. Those darn dust bunnies, watch out.

  10. I am aware that I should be banished to a desert island with dust bunnies, tiny pieces of mismatched legos and small annoying children, but I so love that a large dust bunny ate him! Thank you.

  11. The last line made me laugh (and now I’m wondering if that means I’m a terrible person…a part of me senses I shouldn’t laugh at a child being swallowed by a dust bunny.) I actually do throw away what the kids leave on the floor. Sometimes they miss it, sometimes they don’t.

  12. Arnel says:

    Oh I remember those days! And train pieces! Such truth in this writing!

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