I didn't go over this time, I don't think.

I did go over. I couldn't keep it short, but, with some struggle, got it down to 500 words.

Flip of the Cards

She flips the cards, King to Queen to Jack to ten. She ignores her burning eyes as she ignores the voices, fiercely.

"Tomorrow is another day!"

The cards snap, red to black to red to black, while her own voice whispers, "Just a little more peace, please. Just a little more."

The next: portentous, pretentious, deep, "Morning comes too soon and you won't be ready, but they will."

She grits her teeth and shuffles the cards. "Just one more game."

The Juju queen adds her molasses dipped opinion, "Lay 'em down, honey. You got things needing to be done."

Red. Black. Red. Black. "No."

The mother bustles in. "Laundry. Shopping. You really do need to bathe those babies every single day. I don't think it's right, they said every other day is better. I can't imagine it. In my day…" She bustles out, nasal whine floating after like a cloud of bad perfume.

King, Queen, Jack. "More time."

"When I was a boy, down in the bayou, I used to take my hounds out and go off in the swamp, do my hidin' thataway."

She snaps the cards down. "Well, I don't have a bayou, or hounds, and the babies won't care for themselves."

"Just sayin'. Maybe you could be writin' instead, or drawin'. You do that pretty well. Sometimes." The old man's rocker squeaks, his presence fading with his pipe tobacco.

The cards slip between her fingers, scatter on the carpet at her feet. She retrieves them slowly. Her eyes are gritty now, her hands shaky. She sips cold coffee and lays the cards again.

"You are so irresponsible." Him. Faded blue eyes, sagging lids and faint purple under-circles, they always find her. His jowls are sagging. "You know that, right? You know that you should be planning, PLANNING to sleep at least 8 hours. I have the perfect pillow for my head. It's just the right thickness to keep my spine straight. You need to go to bed. You have work to do. You're not going to accomplish anything tomorrow if you keep this up." He waits. She lays the next card with a snap, and he disappears with a disgusted exhalation.

The last voice. The one she's been braced for. "Okay. What is this? What's going on with you, really? Those babies need you tomorrow. They need you to be alert and aware. They need proper stimulation, exercise, healthy meals. Not only do they need those things, they deserve them. What are you going to do, feed them peanut butter off a spoon while they watch Teletubbies for the umpteenth time?

The cards falter. The voice changes.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid. Sleep for fuck's sake. Go get in that bed and sleep. You know if you just lay down and try, just TRY, you know you'll sleep. You don't get five minutes of peace when you have responsibilities. Go. To. Sleep."

She lays the cards down, heads for the stairs, wondering when her mother's voice became her own.

Oh, man, Deena. Powerbar, that is.

Third person.

Umph, love. The exhausting oneself so one has a prayer of going to sleep. Been there. Sisyphus should have been a woman.

I like the man in the bayou.

Man, Deena. You have your finger right ON that nerve. Um.

Damn, Deena. That's incredible.

Thanks guys, and thanks to Aimee, because I was having a horrible time thinking of something to write until I read her drabbles. They goosed my muse.

Connie, I thought you might like him. I think he and Otis may know one another. I'll have to ask him next time he shows up.

I think he and Otis may know one another.

Great, two old men leaning back in rickety chairs, shootin' the breeze and telling tall tales. I'll tell Otis to bring his own spittoon.

You know, I never got my voices names. I should name them. I think my Juju woman is, in some weird way, related to your puritan, except she's scary, though your puritan sounds scary enough.