OLWG#141- I Finally Understand

This was written for OLWG#141



I slowly raised my head and waited for the dust to settle. The ringing in my ears was deafening but I could hear the thump, thump, thump of heavy artillery somewhere nearby.

I felt alone and looked over where Harry lay on his back in the dirt.

“That one was close, huh?”

He didn’t answer. Looking closer, I noticed a thin trickle of blood running from his ear. The concussion must have been stronger than he was. He wore a smile and his eyes were open, but unfocused. He looked as if he’d died happy.

I had met Harry in Primary School. He was an Army brat whose dad had been transferred to Fort Munson, nearby. I think we might have been in third grade, maybe fourth. We became fast friends and grew up together. We learned to smoke at the same time; we learned to drive at the same time. I dated his sister, Katherine, for about six months in high school. That didn’t last but my friendship with the both of them endured. Harry and I were like brothers; we fought with one another. We gambled; played cards for cigarettes, pitched pennies, snuck across the border to Mexico so we could bet on the dog races, drink tequila, and go to the strip shows.

I pulled out the small spiral notebook I always carried in my pocket and the small stub that served as my pencil. Sitting in the cold damp dirt I studied my friend. After a while I began writing down some thoughts:

Lying here on this blood soaked ground
So far from home
I finally understand
I never hated them – I merely feared them
I finally understand

I ripped the single page from the wire rings that bound it to all the other pages, folded it twice and slipped it in Harry’s breast pocket. Then putting my hand on his shoulder, I let the sounds of the battle fade. Maybe I said a prayer, but probably not. I’m not much of a precant.


The prompts were:

  1. throwing pennies
  2. when the dust clears
  3. watch me go

OLWG#140- Ole Miss Pearlie

This was written for OLWG#140



“Who’s that lady sitting in the yard across the street? And why does she look so sad?” Melissa asked.

“That’s Ole Miss Pearlie,” Ellis told her, “she’s ‘bout a hunnerd an fifteen years old. She’s not really sad, but she’s blind as a bat and her eyes is all white. If it’s not raining Momma goes ‘cross in the morning and helps her out to her lawn chair underneath that big Poinciana tree. She sits there and enjoys the weather and gossips with the neighbors who might be walking past. In the afternoons, in the summertime, Momma sends me over with a big glass of iced sweet tea and I’ll visit with her for a few minutes. She’s lived here in Tishomingo County here whole life. She can tell a lotta really good stories about the old timey days. Wanna go talk to her?”

“Is she scary?”

“Nope.”

“We should take her something; maybe a glass of tea? You said she likes tea.”

“I got something even better than that. CORNBREAD, ” Ellis almost yelled it out, “Wait here a minute.” He jumped up and ran into the house, the screen door slammed as he disappeared into the gloom off the kitchen hollering for his Momma.

Melissa sat on the stoop and watched Miss Pearlie across the street.

“What’s yore name girl?” Miss Pearlie hollered from over the street and under the Poinciana.” Melissa flinched – she was supposed to be blind.

“Melissa.” The girl called back.

“Are you a friend of Ellis’?”

“I’m his cousin.”

“Course you are. Course you are. Why don’t y’all come cross the street and let me get a look at you? It’s OK, I’ve known Ellis and his Momma for a long time so I’m not a stranger.”

“How are you going to see me?” Melissa asked.

“Oh, Ellis told you I was blind, did he? Well, he’s right, but I can see with my fingers. I can see with my nose and my ears. I can also see with my tongue, but don’t worry none; I won’t eatcha.” The old lady smiled at her own joke.


Well that took all of my twenty-five minutes and maybe a little bit more. Probably a good thing too as I don’t know where I was going with it!

The prompts were:

  1. jump
  2. sad eyes
  3. Mississippi corn bread

OLWG#139- U & I

This was written for OLWG#139



You and I are somewhat industrious, but less than efficacious
We try hard, but are seldom successful
Like fishermen pulling up stones.

Catching a lot, but nothing we can eat.
At least we have each other
We cling together and carry on.


The prompts were:

  1. we cling together
  2. fishermen pulling up stones

Sorry That I Called Your Dad A Dick

TBP


I crushed another empty beer can against my forehead and snagged another handful of stale Cheetos when I realized I was getting pretty drunk. Across the room, the clock on the VCR told me that it was 1:37. The little red light was illuminated next to the time so that indicated AM. It was 0137 and I was drunk, eating stale Cheetos and rearranging house plants.

Before she moved out Clarissa had written directions for proper care of the plants. Each had a little card with directions saying things like “needs a lot of sun,” “needs only a modicum of water,” to wait, wha…what the hell…? This one says never water! It says to keep in a dark room! I can’t believe this… all the plants are all going to die now. I should chuck em out the window. She better never come back, ‘cause if she does I’ll probably have to send her away again. I wish she hadn’t left. I would’ve done anything for her; well anything except apologize to her dad, or get a regular job. I’m an artist, for cryin’ out loud!

She is something. I wonder how long’s it gonna be before she comes crawling back. Before she realizes that she never had it so good. When she calls she’ll most likely be crying and asking me to take her back… and then… and then I’ll tell her no. I’ll tell her I got three or four women over right now, but I may be able to make some time for her next week.

What am I saying? I wish she hadn’t left. I promise to try harder. I promise to get at least a part-time job. Hell, I’ll even tell her dad that I’m sorry. She won’t pick up when I call her though. None of her friends knows where she is. I’m getting worried.


I used your prompts verbatim, then I looked up V.E.R.B.A.T.I.M. I’m so confused!

OLWG#138- Insurgents

This was written for OLWG#138



Celia Santamana and Melba Sánchez joined the revolution when they were both 17 years old. They had grown up together in Pilón, on the southern coast and were assigned to the care of Haydee Hernández a slightly older and more experienced revolutionary. Hernández showed her young charges how to drink, smoke, and fuck. Along with a crash course in guerilla warfare, she introduced them to the care and use of all weapons including blades and firearms. The girls were naturals, but she helped them hone their skills. In fact it was Haydee who introduced Celia to Estéban.


The prompts were:

  1. when the revolution comes
  2. desperate and blue
  3. like old lovers

OLWG#137- Sugar

This was written for OLWG#137



I was leaning against the streetlight on the corner of Piedras Blvd. and Vista. It was cold and raining hard. My clothes clung wet and heavy. I heard the car long before I spotted it. It rolled up Piedras and slowed to a stop at the curb by my lamppost. The rear window slid down and a hand emerged to beckon me over.

“Why aren’t you working, Sugar?” a big guy whispered from the backseat.

“I’m trying, Diamondtrim. It’s the weather.” I said, “There’s hardly any traffic at all tonight. It’s just me and these streetlights.” I shrugged my shoulders and shivered from the rain.

“Don’t give up.” he said, “This is what Saturdays are for.”

The window buzzed shut again and the car pulled slowly away, a cloud of exhaust following. I moved back to my post and wished for a cigarette.


The prompts were:

  1. In the middle of the kitchen floor
  2. that’s what Saturdays are for
  3. just me and these streetlights

Time for a Change

Written for this challenge – Thank you Peter



Connie looked over her shoulder as Rick eased in through the front door. If looks could kill, he’d be dead now and he knew it, but he still had to try.

She growled at him, “You got a lotta damn gall, showing up here, showing up now.”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry, Connie…” Rick kinda let his apology run out of steam. He stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets and shrugged his shoulders. Tried to look pathetic. Tried a sheepish grin.

On her part, Connie started flinging everything she could lay her hands on at him. “Are you trying to piss me off?” she screamed, “Is that what you want? Just get out. Get the fuck out.”

Rick took a step forward.

She threw a big book. It mighta been a cooking book, or it mighta been Tolstoy; she didn’t bother to check which. It did the trick though.

Rick retreated back the way he had come. He went out the front door.

Connie leaned back. She needed to get the locks changed, and as long as she was changing things, maybe she’d she should go downtown tomorrow. Change her hair.