Pixie (from the trailer park.)

Father Paul tries to help Pixie, but Pixie doesn't want to be saved.

The stoney walkway shone slick with rain, reflecting the community center lights. It was 1 am, and nobody was around to hear her scream. When her blood mixed with the downpour, and slid like goo into the mud, nobody was awake to watch her lose consciousness. A lone pale pink sedan flew down the freeway that crossed nearby, but he didn't see a thing, as he was fumbling with his side mirrors. Grumbling about the car behind him, travelling too close, he didn't see how close he was to saving the girl. He drove on by, headed to shoot his ex-wife for pinning him with alimony and taking custody of the kids. But that's another story. This story is about her. About Pixie. 

Pixie was a trailer trash mother of seven. She didn't give a damn about nobody but herself, not even those kids. She was commonly found late morning, asleep in a pile of empty nipper bottle caps and tabloid magazines. She was the type to believe that even when she kneeled down a sinner, she got up a Christian. She could be sitting at the park pool, right thumb in the mouth of her 3 month old son, left hand holding a brown paper bag holding a 40 ounce of Steel Reserve. That young boy was awfully adorable. His light brown hair was swirled like an ice cream cone and his eyes were blue like a bottle of Skyy Vodka. 

He would sit in the wet dirt that night, staining his blue nightie brown, hands red from playing in his momma's blood. He was a rainbow of affronts to God that evening. 

Who could be walking away from the scene but the local priest? Father Paul was the town's main appendage. His limp made the hem of his pants on his short leg soaked and soiled, while the hem of his long leg stayed dusty dry. His overcoat and his pants matched the color of a burnt matchstick, and they crumpled up on the left. His black button up, Priest attire, hid the blood he'd be covered in, but the white square on his neck was stained with one singular pink fingerprint. 

Father Paul was not a popular man. But he didn't care much. He just went to see Pixie. 

See, Pixie was a habitual liar. Stories spewed out of her miniature avon lip-stick stained mouth just as quickly as the breaths she took. She exhaled rumors and inhaled carnage like a junkie getting a fix. So when she called Father Paul, he almost didn't take the call.

"Hello FATHER Paul." Her voice crawled into his ear. Scratchy and textured like earthworms, her voice sung through the receiver tauntingly.

"He...Hello..Pixie. How may the good Lord help you find your peace today?"

"Do you hear them, FATHER Paul?? Do you hearrr all your children crying as your girls swallow them in the alleyway?? HAHAhahahAHAHAhAHA!!!"

The receiver clicked, dial tone resonating in the air like a long string of periods and commas. Father did not like what he heard, not one bit. Now, he could not say she was correct, nor could he say she was incorrect in her accusations, but he could say that he did not want another phone call from Pixie at the trailer park. So he paid her a little visit. 

There she was, crouched in the closet, covered in feces and food, making her calls. But nobody knew she was there. That’s when Father Paul showed up. Her screen door was swinging and squeaking in the wind, slamming like cardiac arrest every 20 seconds with each strong gust that followed. The front door behind it was slightly ajar, and he was vexed to find a VHS of him walking out of the adult bookstore on her boxy, black and white tv. There must have been a glitch because the tape kept pausing, rewinding, and replaying over and over. Laughing at him. 

She cackled the whole way as he dragged her from the livingroom to the front yard. It was dinnertime. Nobody was privy, because nobody cared about Pixie from the trailer park, in her moomoo with her Karen haircut and her watered-down half gallons of milk. Nobody wanted to get involved with whatever middleaged mustached man was packing up and moving out this time.He was unraveled to find she was smiling when he turned to face her, standing over her chalk outline of a body. His ghostly glare was meant to scare her silent. Instead she only giggled like a little girl then hackled and hacked like an old crone. 

"Father wet his pants! Father wet his pants!"

How could she know he had a bed wetting problem until he was 17? That he still occasionally wore adult diapers to bed, because he wasn't sure when a yawn would mean a change of piss stained tighty-whiteys?

"Whats the matter PAUL? Peter, Paul and Saul and Simon, sitting in a TREE??!!"

Her eyes turned cold in a moment and he swore he saw hellfire blazing behind them.

He doesn't remember how they got to the community center. But here they were. He was standing above Pixie, signing the cross, mumbling prayers he hadnt heard since sunday school. Vomit spilled forth onto her old lady clothes and she sputtered unpleasantries and curse words through the spew. 

"I saw you! I saw you with your dinger out! I saw you with that girl behind the thrift store last tuesday! I'll bet you didn't tell your WIFE!"

The air winged passed his arms with a whistle as he swung, and the crucifix dipped hard into her ribcage. Blood pooled like soup in her now concaved chest. Pixie from the trailer park was now Pixie laid out on the community center lawn. The grass shown like an ocean of emeralds in the rain, poor son of hers playing in the rain and the blood. Shaking her anti-psychotic medication in his hand like a rattle. Pixie from the trailer park should have taken her meds that day.

Reviews

[Sams]

I really like you're writing style! It started out really strong, lots of good imagery, but the second half sort of stumped me. It was a little unclear when the flashback started, and some of the stuff in the end just didn't feel like it fit with the beginning. The fact that Pixie saw the priest cheating on his wife was a great twist, but the stuff about having a problem with wetting the bed didn't fit the vibe of the story. Also, in the first half it mentioned that one of Pixie's kids was there when she died, but then didn't mention how they got there in the flashback? I could be interpreting that wrong, but it wouldn't hurt to clarify!
I think it's a great place to start! I really liked how you repeated "from the trailer park" through out the story, it was a really engaging call back and tied the whole thing together. The pacing was good and I liked how you spaced things out.
Over all, I think you just need some more practice with writing. This story shows a lot of talent and I think you have a great understanding of how to create a story. I'm really excited to see what you write next!