48 Hour Short Story Contest

Clara watched with disdain through her window as a Blue Pick-Up truck sped past her house followed instantly by the blaring siren and flashing lights of a police car. So much for a silent Sunday afternoon, she thought with a dispirited sigh as she retreated into her kitchen.
“The world’s gone crazy, Boots,” she lamented, distracting the well-fed black-and-white cat from lapping up the last few drops of his milk.
“Meow,” he replied, cocking his head slightly before returning his attention to his liquid treat.
Clara, removing from her stove, a tea kettle on the verge of screaming, smiled at, what she felt, was her cat’s request for further explanation about the world.
Carefully pouring the kettle’s tea into a mug, she continued, “Years ago, Boots, people observed the Sabbath. They attended church and, then, they joined God in a day of rest.” She signed again. “Now, even Sunday is a day for running a mock!”
“Meow,” he agreed, circling around her ankles.
“Now you know that I am not much for religion, Boots, but…” Blowing gently on the steaming tea, she searched her brain for the words to continue. “Can’t there be just one day of silence? Can people not just take one day to rest? Think of how much happier everyone could be if we could all just have a day to relax! Yes, Boots,” she declared proudly, “that just might be the key to happiness!”
Satisfied that her thoughts are had been justly explained, Clara returned to her parlor with a smile of triumph.
As soon as she was able to situate herself comfortable in her favorite chair, however, the siren of the police car ripped through the silence. “Humph,” she grunted as Boots climbed into her lap. “I swear, Boots…” she began, but her declaration was quickly interrupted by the ringing of her doorbell.
Sighing once more, she gently pushed Boots off of her lap and then stood up and walked to the door.
She stood hesitantly in front of the door for a moment.
“Clara,” yelled a strong, deep voice. “It’s me! Open up!”
“Henry?” she questioned excitedly as she swung open the door to find the toothy grin of her dearest friend. “Come in! Come in!” she ushered him happily. “Where have you been?”
Henry let out a hearty laugh as he stepped inside. “Working,” he responded cheerfully, “…Always working.”
“What have you got to show me this time?” Clara questioned playfully as Henry took a seat on her sofa (with Boots immediately jumping onto his lap).
“Well,” Henry began, his hand gently stroking Boots as Clara returned to her chair, “I have learned quite a valuable lesson on this assignment.”
He watched in amusement as Clara’s eyes widened with intrigue, and then, distracted, looked at her front window at the sound of a police siren.
“My latest assignment,” he described with happiness, “Was to capture the element of surprise.”
“And did you?” Clara inquired as the siren faded.
Henry smile. “Oh, yes!” He let out a soft chuckle –a chuckle which appeared to fall upon deafened ears as Clara listened intently for the return of the siren. “They sent me to Peru,” he divulged, “In hopes of capturing someone reacting to one of their earthquakes.” He let out a hearty sigh. “When that failed, they flew me to Hawaii, hoping that a recent rumble in one their islands would amount to something.”
“No such luck, I take it?” Clara commented, her attention now wholly returned to the conversation at hand.
Another hearty laugh burst from Henry’s mouth. “No, it was a great success!” he announced.
“You mean the volcano actually erupted?” she asked, her body filled with excitement and intrigue.
“Not quite,” he sighed, filled with disappointment.
“Then how was the assignment a success?”
Suddenly, a brown blur passed through the corner of Clara’s eye. Immediately, a yelp of fear passed through her lips as she jumped up, following the blur into her kitchen.
With the blur out of sight, Clara panicked, reaching for the first weapon she could find –an old broom that, after years of cleaning, was mainly bald of its bristles.
“What’s wrong?” Henry called from the parlor.
“A rat!” Clara exclaimed. “I saw a rat!”
Stifling laughter, held his camera to his face. “Relax,” he instructed. “I’m sure you’re wrong.”
Clara returned to the parlor, still armed with the old broom, and still shaken by the fear of such a creature being in her home.
Without hesitation, Henry quickly pushed the button on his camera, forever immortalizing the fear within her eyes.
Stunned and confused by what was happening, Clara remained silent, staring blankly into Henry’s friendly eyes.
Still holding his camera steady (and remaining ready to click its button for a new picture at any moment), Henry laughed. “Clara, my dear…” he began as an uproariously laughter erupted from with him. “It’s only a toy!” Instantaneously, he pressed the button, capturing the surprise in Clara’s eyes. “Tha---“
Filled with anger and humiliation, Clara immediately began swaying her broom across Henry’s chest. “The element of surprise, huh?” she screamed angrily.
Henry, pained by the degradation of his dearest friend (and of the coarse bristles of her weapon), sprang to his feet. “I’m sorry,” he cried as he ran toward her front door. “It was only a joke!”
“Get out!” Clara wailed, chasing him through the threshold of her home, her broom still swinging back and forth as she chased him.
…And then, with return of the police siren, she paused.
Henry, however, kept running and, in his hurry, tripped over the remote control Blue Pick-Up truck, his body crashing to the ground and the small police car smashed into the back of the truck.
“Put your hands up,” a young boy instructed harshly.

Clara, standing solemnly beside her friend, let out a soft giggle as she hovered over him. “Get up, Henry… It’s only a joke!!”

Only moments later, Henry awakened to the sounds of crying children. “My twuck,” one cried…
“My p‘lice car,” whined another.
Henry sat up, still trying to straighten out his own thoughts.
All of the sudden, a bright light flashed before his eyes.
“The element of surprise, huh?” laughed Clara.
Henry merely nodded.
“And what did you learn?” Clara questioned.
“That, no matter how far you go, haw far you travel--- there is always surprise waiting right outside of your door,” Henry explained.
Clara smiled, agreeing, as Boots nudged Henry’s arm with his nose, scarred long ago with the same remote control vehicles that had made his mistress jump with curiosity and fear.
Henry, helped to his feet by Clara, smiled wearily. “Who needs travel?” he questioned. “Every emotion anyone could ever need is right at his door!”