OLWG #85- Nigh on Noon

 This week’s prompts are at the bottom. I wrote the story below for practice.  Practice makes perfect. Let me know what you think.

Here’s how to play along, if you are unsure.



It was nigh on noon that Sunday and a thin black man, with a black hat, and a black suit leaned a folding chair up against the hot, white stucco wall of Mr. Lieberson’s Conoco station on U.S. Route 425. He sat right next to a old Coca Cola machine that sold dime bottles of Coke. At his feet sat a ceramic coffee mug with the handle broken off and a chip on the rim. Next to that was a clear bottle ‘bout half full of brown whisky. Man’s name was Ricky J. Parker and nobody knew what the J stood for. He’d lived in these parts just about as long as folks could remember. My daddy used to tell me stories about Ricky Parker from when he was a boy.

Old Ricky Parker glanced at the Coke machine, against which he had leaned his new, hollow-bodied guitar. He pulled off his black fedora and wiped his hand across his brow as he looked up at the sun; squinting through dark, dark glasses. He waited, waited for Sonny and Ray.

After a while he nudged his open guitar case with the toe of his Italian shoe and decided he ought not to wait any longer. He, Sonny and Ray had a deal with Mr. Lieberson. Mr. Lieberson would let them play in front of his gas station for ten percent of the take; they could play all day, every day if they wanted. Some days Lieberson would get a dollar, some days he could get as much as fifty dollars. Ricky, Sonny and Ray would split the rest.

That morning, Ricky picked up his guitar and began to play softly. After a extended intro, he started to sing.

“Boom, boom, boom, boom.”


This week’s prompts are:

  1. need to see an ID
  2. Some of them, with work and polish, can regain their former shine
  3. when your eyes are closed

Go ahead and dive in, set your imagination free!
Write something
Ready, Set, Go – you have 25 minutes, but if that is not possible, take as long as you need and, have fun!

 

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OLWG #84- Murder, Most Foul

 This week’s prompts are at the bottom. I wrote the story below for practice.  Practice makes perfect. Let me know what you think.

Here’s how to play along, if you are unsure.



Katrina squeezed the contents from the eyedropper and into the glass. Keeping her back to him swirled it with a straw. She slipped the clear plastic tube into the pocket of her sundress and turned, handing him the drink. He took her wrist and stared into her eyes.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, Katrina, after that thing with your sister,” he said.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she replied. She rose up to her toes and kissed his earlobe, pulling it between her lips. “I’m drawn to you, Leonard. I’m not sure if it’s because you’re a cad or in spite of it.”

He took a long pull on the drink and swallowed. Katrina smiled. The man had told her that the drug acted fast and she was anxious to see just how fast. Leonard put his arm around her waist and drew her in. She tried to pull away, to no avail. She could only hope that the man had been right.

When his grip loosened and he put his hand to his head, she smiled again, “What is it, dear? What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know. My head… I need to sit down.”

“Of course,” she slid from his grasp and when he stumbled towards the chair she drew her leg back and kicked him viciously between the legs. He crumpled to the floor, writhing in pain. Katrina moved to the chair and sat, watching.

“Katrina? How? What?”

“I know, honey. Right?” her eyes were smiling, “I’m a bit disappointed in the drug though. I thought you’d be vomiting blood by now.”

“Katrina, I loved you. How could you do this?” Leonard gasped and clutched his chest.

“You never love me, Leonard. You only loved yourself. You never loved my sister either. Now I’m going to watch you die. And, as for how I could do this – they named a fucking hurricane after me, Leonard. How could I do anything less than this?”

Katrina sat in the chair and watched as Leonard struggled. She watched as he slowly stilled. She watched until the sun dipped orange into the ocean beyond the picture windows. When it was well and truly dark she rose, collected her coat and bag, picked up her car keys from the table in the entry and left the house. Turning right she walked south for three blocks where she got into her car and drove down the coast highway. She traveled six miles and turned inland heading for the freeway on-ramp. She felt like celebrating.


This week’s prompts are:

  1. shush, listen
  2. legs akimbo
  3. Jack and Jill

Go ahead and dive in, set your imagination free!
Write something
Ready, Set, Go – you have 25 minutes, but if that is not possible, take as long as you need and, have fun!