Welcome to the thirteenth edition of Friday Night Write!
NOTE: We are currently running amuck without a judge and writing just for the fun of it!!
This week's song was chosen by Five Sentence Fiction founder Lillie McFerrin! 
The Challenge 
- 1 Song
- 60 Hours
- 500 Words
The Basics
- New prompt posts at 12 pm pacific on Friday
- Listen to the song HERE
- Let it stir up a story
- Post your story (or story link) in the comment box below
- Submissions open Friday @ noon EST and close Sunday @ midnight EST
The Details
- The music is merely the catalyst for your muse.
- The story does not have to contain any reference to the song.
- The story you create is entirely your own and Sweet Banana Ink makes no claim to it.
- You are encouraged to post your story on your own blog as well as posting in our comments box.
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 are stirred up!
From A to Z (OR “Angel & the Z-28”)
Another hundred miles and he’d have collected a pay check and had enough cash to get a mechanic under the hood. Didn’t pan out that way though, cause the moment he merged onto Hwy 371, the trannie took a dump and he was lucky to get it onto the shoulder without causing a wreck.
There wasn’t much of a balance left on the credit card, but enough to pay for a tow. After that, he was flat busted. The company would cut his pay in half because they’d have to dispatch another truck to retrieve his load. Hopefully, that would put a roof over his head and food in his belly until he could get back on the road.
He made the call, and waited for help to arrive. Didn’t expect it to come in the form of an orange and black 1970 z28. Or a pair of long legs in tight jeans and thigh high black boots.
He dropped from the cab. “Can I help you?”
“I think it’s the other way around!”
“How’s that,” he asked, letting himself take a nice long look. Olive skin, long black hair, big brown eyes. Heavy makeup, large hoop earrings and snug black t-shirt.
She didn’t flinch under his inspection. “Name’s Angelica Ramirez. I’m here on behalf of Bridgeport Tow. Highway Patrol called my brother out for an overturned tractor and trailer south of the I-16 interchange. Going to be a couple hours before he can get to you. He sent me to bring you in out of the rain.”
“You’re a little overdressed for the welcome wagon.”
“Just got off work.”
He smiled. “That car. Those boots. I’m afraid to ask what line of work you’re in.”
She flicked her jacket open so the badge on her hip was visible.
“Interesting. Not much love between cops and truckers.”
“You hauling dirty, Mr. O’Malley?”
“You can call me Cameron, and no, I’m not. Just not sure what’s in my best interest at the moment, officer.”
She nodded towards the car. “Don’t see how a good meal could possibly ruin your reputation. And if we’re going to break bread together, you might as well drop the ‘officer’ shtick and call me Angel.”
“Okay. Food does hold a certain appeal. Maybe on the way you can tell me about the car.”
“Not much to tell,” she said, getting into the driver’s seat. “My brother and I rebuilt her from the ground up. Just got out of the paint booth. He’s gonna kill me for taking her out in the rain but when he called, only car in the shop that was drivable was the Z.”
He buckled up in the passenger seat. “You usually dress like that for work?”
She laughed. “Couldn’t let it go, huh? How about I tell you I drew the short straw at the office today and we leave it at that?”
He nodded. “Yeah, that’s good enough for me. Gotta tell you, though … never thought a cop would get my pulse racing like you do.”
A radio in the center console beeped.
She looked over at him. “There go my plans for an evening off. You want to wait here or ride along?”
“You’re not getting out of dinner that easy.”
She keyed up. “This is Adam 13. Go ahead.” Soon as she signed off, she said, ‘Nothing like a rainy day high speed chase to work up a good appetite, right?”
“Guess I’m about to find out.”
She put the key in the ignition. “I’ve seen your driving record, Cameron. You’re no stranger to speed.”
“True, but usually it’s with a cop on my tail, not sitting beside me looking like the cover of Cosmo.”
“Smooth talker! But considering what you’re used to, my 396 big block is going to be something of a disappointment.”
“Let’s review. You’re wearing five hundred dollar leather boots, sporting a lawman’s badge that I suddenly find hotter than Texas in July and driving a classic 1970 Chevy Camaro. No chance of disappointing me, Angel!”
She turned the key and the car rumbled to life. “Hope my driving skills don’t tip the scales.”
His response was drowned out in the squeal of high dollar rubber sliding across wet asphalt.
- – - – - – - -
(707 words – yeah, I blew past the 500 word limit this time!)
My entry is over at my blog: <a href="http://www.oddparticle.com/?p=328">Have You Ever Heard the Rain</a>. Will be back to read the other entries!
Oops. I messed up the link, but I think it still works…
Yep, your link works! I left my comment over there – and I"m using this reply box to direct folks to click over there because your story is absolutely fantastic!!
I love all your hotrod honnies!!
Huzzah! This is great… the dialogue is fantastic! Fun, fun read…
I enjoyed reading this so much! I smiled all the way through that snazzy dialogue!!!!
I remember that day. Just another beautiful day, with me walking through the roses. I still do that, you know. Walk through that rose garden. Always did love roses. Never could grow ‘em though. Always managed to murder ‘em, for lack of a better way of describing it.
That day was different. On that day, I began to realize, began to understand, how hurt I was. How wounded. You gotta understand. If you’re wounded bad enough. Hurt bad enough. You do things you wouldn’t normally do. Like turn on your friends. Turn on the people that want you to get better.
Yeah. I was hurt that bad. And I’d hurt her ‘cause of it. I’d never meant to hurt her. No. Really. It was a stupid thing to do. And I’ll never forget it. Ever.
See. I’d been banned from the workplace. Couldn’t go to work. Had to sit at home, and wait to find out what would happen next. And I kept seeing these pictures in my head. Where she was talking with them. You know. Them. The people you don’t trust. In this case, one of the program managers. Didn’t help any that during the previous week, they re-arranged the office. Put me in the desk furthest from anyone. So they could watch me.
Paranoid. I know. But, you know. I was that hurt. Been in that job too long. Didn’t leave when I shoulda. Stayed there, ‘cause I thought people depended on me. Thought they needed me. Thought I was helping them keep their jobs. Yeah. I was fuckin’ screwed up. To the point where I thought everything that happened was done to try to get rid of me. Hell, I still think that. Probably always will.
But that morning, I’d written a note to her. And asked her point blank if she was one of them. If she agreed that I should have been banned from the workplace.
Talk about an idiot. Yep. That was me. Died in the wool idiot. Standing there in the roses that day. Catching my first glimpse of how injured I’d become. And how responsible I was for that. How badly I’d hurt myself. I’d told my doc already, “It’s nobody’s fault.” Which was a frakkin’ lie. It was my fault. It was always my fault. Everything that ever went wrong had always been my fault.
She’d written back. “How can you say that to me?”
Yep. Time to take a big damn sword and cut my heart out. That’s what it was. And there I was. Walking in the roses. Wishing I could do just that. Knowing I deserved it. Me. Looking at the roses on a beautiful day. Clear sky. Sun. Warm. And me standing there. Cryin’. Like frakin’ rain was fallin’ from my eyes.
Sometimes, God. I’m such an idiot.
I never meant to hurt her…
498 Words
@LurchMunster
Such sad regret. Nicely done.
Good stuff, man. Nice visuals, interesting psychological insights.
I'm a sucker for internal dialogue and the voice here is excellent!
Nicely done with the internal dialogue. I like the way you emphasize his fragile emotional state with the short clipped sentences!
Stella rubbed a hand up and down her arm in an attempt to ward off the freezing cold. When she heard the news, she immediately grabbed her big red coat and headed outside to talk things out. No one listened to her in such bright silence as the stars.
“It’s just not fair,” she said.
Things in Stella’s life had been going really well. Three weeks ago Jake had proposed, so she was neck deep in chiffon and lace. She was gleefully driving everyone around her nuts with plans. Two weeks ago her sister had given birth to a blue eyed boy, whose gummy grin had Stella forgetting about wedding plans. Last week she’d finally gotten that promotion she spent the last five years working for. She had a hefty title and the shiny golden plaque to prove it.
Stella annoyed everyone with her ever cheery disposition. They just laughed at her, and eventually her excitement rubbed off on them; she was the sunshine wherever she went.
Things were good. Really good.
“It’s just not fair,” she repeated, unable to think of anything else to say.
Just before heading out into the cold, Stella got a call that her best friend from high school, who she hadn’t seen in ten years had been diagnosed with stage four cancer. How could she have everything and her friend be on the verge of losing everything?
Stella never considered herself to be special; she wasn’t better than anyone else.
As the big fat tears began to fall, a thumb appeared to wipe them away. She looked up to see Jake, the picture of love and devotion.
“I’m wrong to sit out here and make this about me, aren’t I?”
He shrugged. “You’re human, Stella.”
“That’s just the thing. The last few weeks I’ve felt super human. Happiness will do that to you, and then today I was reminded just how human I am.”
“Well, you can sit out here and feel guilty you have all of these things Lisa may never have, or you can honor her by living the best life you can.”
Stella smiled through the tears. “You’re so wise.”
“That’s why you’re marrying me, isn’t it?”
“Actually, it has more to do with you being wicked good arm candy,” she quipped, laughing heartily. When she realized she was laughing, she squeezed his hand. “You’re good for me.”
Stella knew life wasn’t always kind, and things wouldn’t always be this sunny for her, but she would grab hold of everything beautiful in her life and cherish it. She would shine through any rain.
432 words
This piece embodies that whole rain on a sunny day thing…well done Miss Lillie.
Excellent. Strong, vivid narrative with emotional punch.
OH, I know this 'rock and a hard place' scenario – and you played it so well! Love that phrase 'wicked good arm candy' too!!
Word Count: 362
The Calm Before The Storm
Lucy looked up when she felt someone take the barstool next to her.
Sam nodded to the bartender, “Scotch neat and another Bushmills for the lady here.”
Lucy smiled at him as he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a brotherly side hug. “Miri and Selena sent me looking for you. When you weren’t at Greg’s, who is now also worried about you, I figured I’d find you here.”
“Lord, I’m surrounded by a bunch of mother hens” she groused fighting a grin.
“Well you shouldn’t miss Sunday dinner if you don’t want anyone getting on your case.”
“I guess” Lucy said sipping her drink “God help me if I ever decide to, oh I dunno, have a private life.”
Sam snorted a laugh, “Not a chance with Miri. She knew who I was taking to prom about a week before I did. You might as well give up now.”
Lucy smiled then slowly sobered, “The Council contacted me.”
“About Gabriel?”
“Yep. They didn’t want me to tell anyone but I made it clear that you and Miri would likely be involved in anything I did to deal with Gabe. I hope that was ok?”
“Of course. I told you we were behind you 100%. The Council doesn’t matter to me one way or the other. But I think it’s pretty shitty of them to sneak around getting you to do their dirty work.”
“Yeah well considering that their private feelings about us non-shifters doesn’t even come close to lining up with their official stance, it IS pretty shitty, but whatever. At least it means I’ll have immunity no matter how it goes down.”
“True enough. Still, it’s irritating. Do you have a plan as of yet?”
“Nope,” Lucy leaned her head on Sam’s shoulder “You got any ideas?”
“Nope but I expect if we have a few more drinks we’ll get real smart and come up with something brilliant.”
Lucy grinned, “See, that’s why YOU’RE the big brother” she raised her hand to the bartender, “Micky hit us again. Tonight we drink because tomorrow we…kick ass and make sure the other guy dies.”
Sam grinned, “HEAR HEAR.”
Nice little slice of these siblings' lives. Love the play between them.
I agree with Jeff!! Love the interplay – how they go through a volley of banter and serious subjects!
Great characters and dialogue!
Rain
Two blind men sat together at the base of the big monument in Columbus Circle.
They met there every evening so they could listen to the traffic.
One of them ventured his opinion on the make and model of a passing vehicle and they'd argue and laugh until the next guess.
After an hour of this the they always retired to a nearby Chock Full o'Nuts to compare their day's hauls.
They first met on the street. Each of them was trying to work the same three or four blocks. There was a fight for territory that first day but after the cops broke it up the two men came to an understanding and divided the area up so each of them had two blocks to panhandle.
Billy, the older of the two, finished counting his before Dominique did. The younger man liked to run his fingertips over the coins to determine their age and usage by the feel of the engravings.
While Dominique moved on to his last little pile of coins Billy drained their coffee mug– one of them always bought a coffee and they shared it, taking full advantage of the Chock Full o'Nuts 'bottomless mug' policy. He rapped on the counter to request a refill.
“Why don't you just buy a second cup?” asked the counter woman. She was a tall woman with a smoker's voice. “You got enough on that table to cover a dozen cups. More probably.” She refilled the mug.
“Love that perfume you got on, Linda,” said Billy.
Linda waved a hand in derision and even though Billy couldn't see the gesture he laughed and drank some coffee.
“How much you got there, son?” he asked Dominique.
“Thirty-one dollars and seventeen cents. You?”
“Fifty-four thirty.”
“Shit. We gotta switch blocks one of these days.”
“Wouldn't help. You just don't have my flair for the job.”
“Fuck it. Doesn't matter anyway.”
A tremendous clap of thunder overtook the street noise and then the rain started.
Billy and Dominique listened to the rain, listened to the rhythm of it as it hit the sidewalk and bounced off of the coffee shop's awning.
The sound of Linda's scurrying feet running to close the door broke the spell.
“Guess I'm sleeping wet tonight,” said Dominique.
“You could come to the shelter with me,” replied Billy.
“I could.”
Billy was well aware of his friend's truculence on the subject and didn't push.
“Have you ever seen the rain, man?” asked Dominique.
“Yeah, I have. Before you were born even. It's a sight to see, all of those clouds letting go from on high.”
“I can't even imagine. I can get my head 'round most things, but not that.”
“It's like washing up,” said Billy, “only everybody gets the chance to get clean if they want to.”
“Not many seem to want to.”
“I wonder why that is.”
Oops.
500 words.
@JTsuruoka
I always love your characters Jeff. They always have a patina of hard life to them wrapped around a fierce spirit.
I fell in love with these characters!!! Wonderful writing + terrific take on the prompt!!
Absolute excellence!!