Scrabbled Sensitivities
by Fred Osuna
She was forward, even though they'd met anonymously via the website's algorithm. Perhaps she just felt safe behind the monitor. She'd chatter like a nervous schoolgirl, not the sixty-year-old woman that she was. He'd win a game, then she would; he'd clear his tray and score two bingos one round, she'd produce oddities like squeg, zoftig and exosmic the next. It was fun, until he started winning every time.
Then, she'd disappear for months. During each hiatus, she played friends and new strangers. Once she regained confidence, she'd send a message. Meg has invited you to a game, the pop-up would read. He'd always reply Yes. He enjoyed playing her, and expected he'd learn some arcane words.
She became increasingly fragile with each loss. She'd title their games “I'm Feeling Brave Tonight” or “I Must Be Crazy.” He thought she was just being funny.
The Saturday night in question, he led by 143 points. He rose and mixed himself a cocktail. When he returned, she'd canceled the game.
Why'd you quit? he wrote.
I can't handle this massacre.
He criticized her form. You don't invite someone to a game and quit because you're not winning, he wrote.
She exploded. You might quit, too, if you were waiting to find out that your mother could die at any moment.
He extended his sympathies toward her mother's condition. Then he matter-of-factly unfriended her.
The next morning, she drove to the cemetery to clip the grass around her mother's gravestone.
Then, she'd disappear for months. During each hiatus, she played friends and new strangers. Once she regained confidence, she'd send a message. Meg has invited you to a game, the pop-up would read. He'd always reply Yes. He enjoyed playing her, and expected he'd learn some arcane words.
She became increasingly fragile with each loss. She'd title their games “I'm Feeling Brave Tonight” or “I Must Be Crazy.” He thought she was just being funny.
The Saturday night in question, he led by 143 points. He rose and mixed himself a cocktail. When he returned, she'd canceled the game.
Why'd you quit? he wrote.
I can't handle this massacre.
He criticized her form. You don't invite someone to a game and quit because you're not winning, he wrote.
She exploded. You might quit, too, if you were waiting to find out that your mother could die at any moment.
He extended his sympathies toward her mother's condition. Then he matter-of-factly unfriended her.
The next morning, she drove to the cemetery to clip the grass around her mother's gravestone.
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Author's Note
"Scrabbled Sensitivities" was written for week #22 of the 52/250 challenge - my first submission to them - and was subsequently published at their website (http://tinyurl.com/3qoqert). The theme was "the brutality of friends."
Other stories by Fred Osuna
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Wow. I think you've captured the easiness with which people are supposedly engaged with each other on-line and also completely out of touch. I think you've captured the cruelty, loneliness, and confusing nature of it.
Did you mean to say Scrabble when you said Bingo, paragraph one?
A fave.
-- Q
Amazing concept of story, executed skillfully!
Very well done!
(The Bingo part bothered me too.)
Thanks very much for the kind comments, everyone.
About the "Bingo:" In Scrabble, a bingo is when you unload your entire tray and play a word of at least seven letters (it's a 50-point bonus, as well). I lower-cased the word, as it indeed does confuse two games at once.
What a delightfully strange pair! Love the virtual aspect.
Great work, Fred - and a good fit for the challenge. Wonderful closing:
"He extended his sympathies toward her mother's condition. Then he matter-of-factly unfriended her.
The next morning, she drove to the cemetery to clip the grass around her mother's gravestone."
I like this piece.
Is it brutal of me that I don't think there's anything wrong with the guy's behavior?
Thanks, Kim, Sam.
And, Mark, I'm with you. This woman's pretty unstable, and a liar to boot. I envisioned her leaned into the computer monitor, grinding her teeth, talking to herself. But I was trying to shorten the distance between their pathologies (though the worst he does, really, is drink and possess a large vocabulary). It's tough to blame him for taking the easy way out.
Nice, Fred. What a great idea for a story. I love the crazy crash of emotion that can erupt when a benign board game is played over the internet.
Spot on, I believe they say.
As Quenby mentioned, you nailed the oddities of online society. I remember the first time I came across a virtual compulsive liar, and just a few minutes later, the compulsively naive. Wonderful idea & great treatment of it.