Welcome to the sixth edition of Friday Night Write!
The Challenge
- 1 Song
- 48 Hours
- 500 Words
The Basics
- New prompt posts at 5pm pacific on Friday
- Listen to the music here
- Let it stir up a story
- Post your story (or story link) in the comment box below
Comments will close at 5 pm pacific on Sunday- UPDATE: Closing time has been extended to MIDNIGHT PST!
The Details
- The story does not have to contain any reference to the song.
- The music is merely the catalyst for your muse.
- The story you create is entirely your own and Sweet Banana Ink makes no claim to it.
- You are free to post your story on your own blog.
SPECIAL NOTE: Next week, Friday, August 3, we'll make the jump and have a judge and a winner's badge!!
Speical thanks to J.D. Wenzel for this week's song choice.
Questions? Give us a holler via email (sweetbananaink@gmail.com) or twitter (@bullishink). We look forward to writing alongside you this weekend! Can’t wait to see what stories Beck stirs up!
C’mon Talk
It was three o’clock in the morning and Vasquez’ wedding was over.
My best friend Vasquez, resplendent in his topcoat and bermuda shorts, and Luisa, the bride, stunning in a white sarong, married barefoot on the beach with three hundred of their nearest and dearest.
Annette and I were by the fountain outside the hotel bar.
I thought back to the night six years ago when Vasquez and I met her at our favorite Alphabet City dive bar, the first time I saw her in a haze of smoke and booze. The first time I watched her eyes follow Vasquez across a room.
It was so long ago, but the memory hadn’t faded.
Not even a little bit.
It had been one hell of a wedding, happy and sappy, and I danced all the slow numbers with Annette like I promised her I would.
I held her close and pretended not to notice the way she looked at Vasquez when she thought no one could see.
All things considered, Annette put a damned good face on it, flitting and flirting her way around the room, laughing when it was called for and, despite what it cost her, smiling through the entire day.
She was still smiling and was just a little drunk as she danced around in the fountain.
The bass and just a hint of the vocals from the music bled out of the bar.
Bernhoft’s ‘C’mon Talk’. The universe had a sense of humor.
Annette looked at me and smiled as Bernhoft gave way to a Nina Simone ballad.
“You promised, Jake.”
“Lilac wine is sweet and heady,
Like my love…”
She put her hands out for me and I helped her out of the fountain so we could dance.
“Lilac wine… I feel unsteady…”
Her eyes fluttered open and she looked me in the eye, watching me watching her. The eye contact lasted no more than a couple of seconds but it was enough.
Our lips hovered just millimeters apart. I could feel her need to be kissed. The ache was as keen as my own. But it couldn’t be. Not then. Not like this.
Annette shuddered against me.
She pressed her face into my chest and whispered through her tears. “I fooled them all, didn’t I, Jake?”
I bit my lip and held it until I tasted blood.
“Yeah, baby. You fooled us all.”
405 Words
@JTsuruoka
Oh Jeff. So good. I have fallen madly in love with Jake.
Well done.
So many emotions. I think Jake is wonderful!!! Nicely done
Such a terrific noir feel here – really wonderful!. Has me wondering if this is Jake of the Redemption or Bust series!
This is one of about a dozen Jakes I’ve created over the years. I just like the name & keep using it.
That is so lovely..x
Coming into this a little late in the day and when I listened to the music it made me think of a post I wrote a little while ago. I hope it’s not too out of the spirit of things to post it again here:
Sitting cross legged on the bed she was bathed in a pool of golden moonlight flooding in from the uncurtained window. Like an enchanted ring of fire it kept her safe from the whispers. She could hear them circling, trying to break through. Fragmented sentences, single words, whirling in the dark like leaves caught in a maelstrom. Sucking her down into the vortex of truth.
She drew her legs further away from the edge. She wasn’t ready to accept their truth just yet.
Were they right? She may never know, but it was time to acknowledge that not wanting the words to be true didn’t make is so.
The whispers intensified. Becoming louder, more insistent.
The whirling became faster and more frantic.
They knew they were winning. They could taste victory.
The moonlight flickered and faded, the circle was breached.
Rushing towards her the whispers enveloped her in a cloak of reality, refusing to be silenced any longer.
As she bowed her head in submission a glint of silver caught her eye.
Slowly, regretfully, she reached into the shadows and, closing the box, she hid the bangle from view
This is beautiful!! Thank you much for participating!!
BTW: If you have a twitter handle, let us know so we can tweet out your story!!
A really lovely piece!!!
Wonderful sad tension in that piece. So glad you joined in.
C'MON TALK
The noise in the bar fell to a hush when Lindsey walked through the door. Taking a seat by Graham at the end of the bar, she said, “We can’t let this go on. The town is about to turn on itself. When’s the last time you showered? Or ate for that matter?”
“Three days since I ate anything,” he replied, his voice rough and groggy. “Drank a lot, though. Had quite a few in your honor, too. All hail Miss High And Mighty.”
“If that’s all you called me, you’re doing better than I thought.”
He flicked her glass off the counter. “It wasn’t.”
“You want to split a deli sandwich with me? I haven’t eaten anything but soup for a week, and I’m going need some protein to get this through conversation.”
He got off the stool and stepped behind the bar. “No way. You’re not going to come in here and run the show. You’re finally ready to talk, fine, but we’ll do it my way, like I wanted to before you went off and poured your heart out to someone else.”
Her fist struck the counter. “Graham, that’s not fair –”
“I’ll tell you what’s not fair,” he said, pouring himself another shot. “Watching your brother die and not being able to save him. You pulling away and leaving me to assume that it was because I let Robbie die. My dad shouldering the blame as shift supervisor and then killing himself when he couldn’t handle it.”
She leaned across and caught his sleeve. “I was sick with grief, Graham. I wasn’t behaving rationally. And when I did get a moment of clarity, I realized that my parents were going to file suit against the factory. So, yes, I went and talked to granddaddy. I made him promise to secure the mill’s future. I couldn’t let Robbie’s death ruin your future or your family’s legacy.”
His hand closed around hers, knuckles white. “But it has! I lost my best friend, girlfriend and father inside three days. I can’t go back to the mill without reliving Robbie’s accident. I can’t go home because the living room is splattered with my dad’s remains. I can’t go to your house because you and your parents blame me and my family for Robbie’s death.”
“Come to granddaddy’s with me. He still controls my family’s finances and now you control the factory’s stock. If we work together, we can keep the factory running and the town employed.”
He let go of her and slammed a shot. “Screw finances, families and the factory.”
She got down and went to him, pinning him against the bar. “Okay, let’s start a little closer to home. C’mon, talk to me.”
His hands settled around her waist. “I need to know you forgive me. I tried to save him -”
She kissed away his doubt and blame.
The noise in the bar rose to a steady hum again as the locals saw their future was secure.
- – - – -
Bullish / 500 words
- – - – -
I have to say that this is the story that came to me with this song but it was much bigger than 500 words … sigh! It was hard to know where/how to end. :)
I am amazed at the many layers woven into such a short space. I get a clear sense of these two characters, along with a solid whiff of other that aren’t present. Excellent story!!!!
This is a great slice of life tale… I love how you’re just dropped right into it and get to experience some of the confusion and uncertainty that the characters are feeling. Using the frame of the bar is a nice touch -gives the feel of watching something unfold before your eyes. Excellent…
I want to read the rest of it. MAN…we have a lot of bad happening here in three days and wanna know the story. Well done.
No idea where this came from.. A bit hasty because I am always confused by the time thing..
****
“Can’t we just talk about this?”
Laura Flanagan looked pleadingly at the man before her.
He looked so austere in his black clothing and she could see he was starting to feel uncomfortable at her request.
Really she should just leave and accept that her need was out of the question. But she couldn’t.
Why wouldn’t any of them understand that she needed this. Just this one night.
“Please Mr Higgins. I do understand that it is against your rules. But it’s all I have left. All I will ever have left.”
“Mrs Flanagan I do….”
“Please. No one need know.” She fought back the tears that were choking her.
“Mrs Flanagan. This is a Chapel of Rest. There is no way that I can permit you to spend the night here, let alone sleep with your husband’s body. It is simply out of the question.”
151 words
@mrsnazilli
Wow. I just flashed on a photo I saw a while back of a soldiers wife spending the night next to his coffin. Just…wow.
Tantalizing… lots of possibilities here. I hope you develop the story further. I’d love to read more.
My entry for this week: http://lilliemcferrin.com/friday-night-write-cmon-talk/
Making Amends
Gulping down the last of her Vodka Collins and taking a firm hold on her clutch, she decided she’d waited long enough for him to show. The faint scent of Aramis reached her nostrils and a hand rested on her shoulder.
“Seventeen minutes, Chantalle? I remember when I used to rate half an hour. I’m hurt.” His bemused tone told her he was anything but.
“I remember we were still married then and you had the keys to our only car. I had to wait for you.”
Rather than reply, he motioned to the bartender. “The lady will have a very dry vodka martini with two olives, William. If you could, please have it brought to my table.” The barmen nodded and left.
“I don’t drink those anymore, Robert. I haven’t for nearly eight years.”
“Well, you’ll have one tonight…with me.”
She didn’t resist as led her away to the table. As he pushed in her chair, her drink arrived.
“Put that on my tab and please bring me another tonic and lime. And don’t be stingy with the limes, eh?”
He saw her upraised eyebrow and withdrew a brass disk from his coat, twirling it before her eyes. “Five years in July. I don’t drink martinis anymore either.”
Unable to resist any longer, she whispered, “Robert, after all this time why couldn’t you just –“
“Why couldn’t I just stay a forgotten shadow? I’m getting old Chantalle, old and tired. Things matter to me now that didn’t so much before.”
“So, I’m just one stop of many on your 8th step journey?”
He tried to shrug it off but she could see she’d scored a hit with that one.
“What you are is my wife. You’re the only woman I ever loved and the only one I thought would never give up on me. You did.” Score one for him, she winced.
“I gave up on the drinking and the not coming home and the damned…interminable…silence. I understood the problems at your office better than you think. I could have helped but you shut me out. You should have just…talked to me…let me be your wife.”
Sipping, he nodded. “Well, Stephen took up that torch for me there, eh? He may have been a total bastard to work with but he wasn’t such a bad guy, I suppose.” His thinly-veiled bitterness was palpable.
“He was good to me at a time when I needed someone to reach out to who reached back. We…we’ve not been together now for… almost three years”
“I know. I had no intention of bringing that up. I’ve kept track of you over the years, babe.” She flinched as he stroked the back of her hand. “Look, I’m not the man you married, the man you loved or the man you left. C’mon and talk to me. You may just find the man I’ve become isn’t such a bad sort either.”
She melted in the irresistible glow of his forgotten smile and talk they did.
I like the optimism in the ending; wasn’t expecting that. Very nice
Good work… You have a deft touch with changing emotions. The effect is that you get your readers twisting in the wind just like your characters are which makes the payoff at the end of the story that much more powerful.
http://stevenpaul-ashviper.blogspot.com/2012/07/friday-night-write-cmon-talk.html
Lucy sat dozing lightly as the soft beeps of the machines kept beat with her Mother’s heart.
“Gabriel?”
Lucy got up and leaned over the bed, “Mom? It’s Lucy.”
“Lucy? Where’s Gabriel?” she croaked her throat dry from the cool hospital air and artificially induced sleep.
“I dunno but you’re in the hospital. Do you want some ice chips?”
“Yes.” Lucy picked up the cup with the ice and slipped the chips into her mother’s mouth gently one by one.
“Is that better?” she asked putting the cup down and brushing the older woman’s hair back from her face.
“Yes, but where is Gabriel?” she whined. Lucy sighed.
“I don’t know Mom. I left some messages on his cell phone. He hasn’t called back or shown up. How do you feel?”
“Tired and my chest hurts. Why does my chest hurt?”
“You got sick Mom, very sick. The doctors put you under for about a week so you could heal.”
“Sick? I’m a Were Lucy, we don’t get sick. Where’s Gabriel he understands this stuff.”
Lucy gritted her teeth to keep from snapping, “You apparently contracted a rare form of TB that affects humans and wolves. If you had been doing the regular hunting run with a pack you probably would have healed on your own but you don’t shift often enough these days. You were delirious when I got to the house last weekend. You had a fever and it looked like you hadn’t eaten all week. Scared me to death.”
Nell finally seemed to focus on Lucy, “Fever? Wait…I remember…Gabriel said he would get me some Sprite at the store, I didn’t feel good. But he took so long.”
Lucy felt that familiar cold rage rising into her chest, “Mom was Gabriel with you last week when you weren’t feeling good?”
“Yes, but he has so much on his mind. He’s a good boy but you know he loses track of time. I’m sure he would have come back if you had been there to help him. Lucy please find him he needs to be here to talk to the doctors.”
Lucy closed her eyes, took a deep breath and pushed down the bitterness, pain and sorrow.
“Sure Mom, I’ll go find him.”
Lucy stood in the hospital parking lot staring into the setting sun. It seemed like she’d spent her whole fucking life chasing after her brother. She got in her car, lit a smoke and headed for The Knox.
Neato! Lycanthropes having to deal with everyday problems (and not-so-everyday ones, like serious illness) just like the rest of us. I dig it…
Seriously love that.. I am getting more and more into werewolves..x
Mona – can feel the emotions running through this – really enjoyed it!!
Come on, talk – a beat poem
Coming from when and how, the past and now. I’m buying, trying and closing it down. I’ve been down so far I might not get back up. You can’t tell me what to do, or to say, whether it’s today or tonight or tomorrow – your sorrow won’t change my mind. I’ve tried to be kind, but we can’t be blind to what’s been going on. Down to the day we met, I regret, I couldn’t get to the heart of the matter. It was strong, I didn’t belong and it’s the wrong song I’ve been singing all along.
It’s a sign, this rhyme, for time, it’s all mine so bump one more line, and get the hell out of here. Come on and tell me, sell me, repel me, push me through the pain and then the door.
Where does love go when it’s cast aside, tossed off this ride, pitched far and wide? I can’t see it any more. When I look in your eyes, I despise all my cries of sadness in the night.
Why won’t you speak and tell me the truth, it’s not our youth – we’re old, behold the golden years. But the tears, the fears, the mirrors that shine our reflections back don’t do us any favours. The labours, the ups and downs of life, all the strife, cuts like a knife sometimes, doesn’t it?
Oh love, if just this once, you made a sound, said words profound, I’d listen, I’d hear, I’d pull you near, whisper softly in your ear, wipe away your tear – that one solitary tear that falls when you are real. I know you feel, so seal the deal, come over here and tell me what you’re thinking. What are you feeling? I’m reeling from the nearness of you. It’s true. Let’s kiss. I miss your touch as much as your voice. Make a choice, and make it the right one.
320 words.
Jo…this is so fantastic. I’d LOVE to hear this performed. Really excellent.
OH!!! I adore this! And, I completely agree with Miss Bliss, it would be amazing to hear performed. You rock my socks once again
Thanks Lillie and thanks Mona! Thought it was fun to try something a bit different for this particular inspiration.:))
Thank you – I am on Twitter @sarahmac_1