Friday Night Write: There She Goes

August 24, 2012
By Bullish

Welcome to the tenth edition of Friday Night Write! 

 

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.

NEW THIS MONTH:

  • Twelve more hours to write! 
  • Judging for Winner, Pet and Honorable Mention

 

This week's judge is JD Wenzel.


 


    18 Responses to Friday Night Write: There She Goes

    1. LE Jamez (@LEJamez)
      August 26, 2012 at 5:17 am

       

      Fire

      Rachael wasn’t sure when she became aware that she was special; untouchable. Her grandad had always hinted that she was destined for greatness, but even back then, no one could have predicted just what her life would become. On the most wanted list of every major government agency; FBI, CIA, Scotland Yard, DRM, ASIO-every country knew her name, her face, her deeds. The world knew her and feared her, yet couldn’t stop her.

      No job was too large or small, no price too high or low-on occasion if the mood took her she had worked for free, just for the pleasure of watching the fires she had set. That was her signature. No matter the job, they all ended the same way-flames consuming a building or two. The only thing she hadn’t yet done was kill, her work was her life and if she killed she would never be the same; her luck would leave her, of that she was certain.

      Flames tore through the building, stopping for nothing; no one. It was supposed to be empty, a simple insurance job, but amidst the crackling of burning timber, the odd scream could be heard; to those outside watching, those screams tore through their hearts, the realisation that life is short and not always predictable staying with them forever. No one would know how many had died until the fire had run its course, but by then Rachael would be long gone-murder finally added to her list of accomplishments.

      She made it across the border into Canada with hardly a glance by security, despite her picture on every computer terminal. It seemed that killing hadn’t affected Rachael as much as she thought it would-her conscious was clear, her luck still held.

      The world was a harsh place, people and governments were always getting it wrong, with her new found belief in herself, Rachael could achieve more with her life. Her conscious having given her permission, she could now blaze her way across the world with no fear of retribution.

       

      (338 words)

      • Lillie McFerrin
        August 26, 2012 at 2:32 pm

        My goodness, they better watch out for Rachel now! Great writing!!!

        • Lillie McFerrin
          August 26, 2012 at 2:33 pm

          Ahem, Rachael*

      • Jeff Tsuruoka
        August 26, 2012 at 5:53 pm

        This is good.  Real good.  Very tight & written with intensity. Nicely done.

    2. Pingback: There She Goes | My Soul's Tears
    3. Lillie McFerrin
      August 26, 2012 at 2:27 pm

       
      He rotated his hands slowly, side to side, watching them as though they were not his own. In the glaring light of the bathroom the bright red covering his hands gleamed. On a curvy woman, it would be a beautiful color for a dress.
       
      An instant later his fixation broke. Furiously, he jabbed at the soap dispenser hanging on the wall, greedily coating his hands. He rubbed his slick palms together, as he paced the small confines of the room. Flipping on the water, he laid his hands in the sink to allow the cleansing stream to run over them. He watched the crimson bubbles wash down the drain, but that wasn’t good enough. His hands still itched with fear and rage, hatred and agony. So, he washed them again.
       
      “Trent, what’s taking so long, man?” His friend shouted, banging on the bathroom door.
       
      Trent considered the lifeless form on the floor beside him. He cleared his throat. “I…I uh…just give me a minute.”
       
      “Whatever, just hurry up. We’ve got a bus to catch.”
       
      He needed to get himself together. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to deal with this sort of bump in the road, but he was just usually more prepared, more of a planner. When she’d looked at him from across the bar though, he knew she was there for him.
       
      Slamming his palm against his forehead again and again, he berated himself for being so senseless. It was the alcohol. No booze was rule four; he’d broken that and he would now pay the price. As he picked her skin out from under his fingernails, he allowed himself one more moment to admire his handiwork. His was an art that no one understood, though. She hadn’t appreciated him either, even when he tried to explain how lucky she was to be chosen, what an honor it was to become his canvas.
       
      He kicked her in a burst of rage. He had been forced to rush when she had begun fighting him, screaming.
       
      Enough. He didn’t have time for this. Reclaiming his focus, he stepped on top of the toilet, pushing aside one of the ceiling tiles. When he picked her up, he was thankful she was small. After shoving her through the ceiling and replacing the tile, he went to work cleaning up the mess she’d left on the floor.
       
      Ten minutes later, he exited the bathroom.
       
      “Yo, what the hell?”
       
      “Man, what can I say? I’m a lightweight,” Trent said, hanging his head as though shamed.
       
      His buddy slapped him on the back. “No worries. Let’s get out of here before we miss our bus. This time tomorrow we’ll officially be surgical interns.”
       
      449 words

      • Laura (@LEJamez)
        August 26, 2012 at 3:59 pm

        Loved the opening to this, bit scary that Trent has done this before but usually better.

      • Jeff Tsuruoka
        August 26, 2012 at 6:02 pm

        Such vivid imagery… you always create the most powerful visual images.  Very nice.

    4. Mark Ethridge
      August 26, 2012 at 2:29 pm

       

      As a guy, let me be honest. There are times when guys disgust me. Like when they gather in a group. One thing always comes right out. Sex. I mean, for example. Three or four guys at work go out to lunch one day, as a group. What do they do? Sit at the table, stuffin’ their faces, and commenting, quietly of course, about the women they see. Especially the ones waiting on tables. “Did you see the ass on that one? Momma! The way it moves from side to side when she walks?” And “Day-yum, how’d she get them jeans on?” And “I’d love to hug her ass that tight!” And there’s always that guy that says, “Oh, baby. Come sit them buns on my lap. I’ve got something for them.”

      ”Hey, guys! We have boobage over there!” Followed by the mandatory, “Come on, baby. Lean over. That’s it! Yes!” With one of the guys going, “Mmmmm. Now that’s what I call desert. A little whipped cream. A little chocolate. I could eat them.” And they all see the one that comes in wearing that barely there top, secretly wishing the buttons on it would give up the ghost. “Just to see those with nothing on ‘em would make my day.”

      When they watch a hot chick eat, things get even worse.“Aw, damn. I’ve got something you can eat.”

      There’s the body art guessing games. “Wonder how far that paint goes up her leg?” With his buddies going, “Wouldn’t it be fun to find out?” I mean, seriously. Trying to figure out if she’s wearing regular panties, a thong, or nothing? “She’s got a pierced tongue. Look.” As the guy next to him says, “I wonder what else she’s had pierced? Like maybe her knockers?” And the guy across from him adds in, “Maybe she has one of those rings?” One of them always asks the question, “Do you think she shaves?”

      Then there’s the ranking system. “That one’s bang worthy. Oh, yeah, dude. I could bang that,” or “Cute, but not good enough. Wouldn’t bang that one.” As they all stare while one walks by, “Look, guys! Look! There she goes! There she goes!” As they all moan, “Awww, baby. Don’t leave.”

      And they all know they’re never gonna a get a piece of any of ‘em. That women are too smart to play that game. That they’re just dreamin’.

      And you say you wanna be a part of that? One of the guys? You want to belong? Boy, you just enjoy being the odd man out, ‘cause I’m tellin’ ya. You don’t know at all how lucky you are that you don’t have to play that stupid male game.

       

      . 475 Words @LurchMunster

      • Laura (@LEJamez)
        August 26, 2012 at 4:02 pm

        This is inspired, really great, I could just see and hear the guys round the table.. It's perfect

      • Jeff Tsuruoka
        August 26, 2012 at 6:13 pm

        Great pacing.  The structure really helps move the story along.

    5. Jeff Tsuruoka
      August 26, 2012 at 5:55 pm

      You haven't lived until you've woken up face down in a puddle in an alley behind a Manhattan fish market in July.
      I reared up and scrubbed my face with my sleeve.
      I tried to stand but had to settle for all fours. My ears rang and the back of my head hurt like someone took a ball peen hammer to it.
      The surrounding buildings swayed like slap-happy revelers singing, “New York, New York”, at the end of a bar-mitzvah. I focused on to the red bricks of the building to my right. All windows were shut tight against heat and stink. Air-conditioners rattled and whined.
      There was a rusted gray door ten feet in front of me with the words “Fish Market” were stenciled on it. Trash cans lined the wall next to an cruddy dumpster. I could make out “Fish” on the side of the dumpster. “Market” left town long ago.
      The stench made my eyes water.
      Rotting fish guts blended with urine created an olfactory medley New Jersey or Staten Island would've been proud to call it's own.
      I fought to convince myself the metallic tang in my mouth was blood.
      My fingers brushed against something warm and squishy and it took me a second to realize that I'd planted my hand right in the middle of the puddle my mug had been in just a couple of minutes before. That puddle wasn't entirely liquid.
      I traced the puddle back across the blacktop to the dumpster and a fresh wave of nausea hit me.
      In my mind I let loose a manful stream of profanity as I snatched my hand out of the foulness and jumped into a standing position. In reality I screeched like a little girl who stepped on a bug in her bare feet.
      My pounding head protested the sudden movement and damned near put me back down but now that I was up I planned on staying that way.
      A quick check of my person revealed my wallet and keys where I'd left them. I checked my watch and swore some more. It was cracked and waterlogged.
      The sky was as blue as it ever got over Manhattan so I couldn't have been in that alley for more then an hour or so.
      “There she goes…” I repeated the words, the last thing I heard before getting knocked out. What do they mean?
      I took a couple of deep breaths and decided to give walking a shot. The headache made a comeback with my third step but I beat it down and kept going. After six or seven steps I had the hang of it. The sounds of city traffic cut through the fog. I followed the noise out to the street.
      75th Street, just off Broadway.
      I didn't know who dumped me behind the fish market but my suspect list was short. I knew one thing was for sure. Someone was going to pay.
       

      • Jeff Tsuruoka
        August 26, 2012 at 6:07 pm

        Oops… 497 words.
        @JTsuruoka

      • Laura (@LEJamez)
        August 26, 2012 at 11:36 pm

        You captured his feelings and surrounds really well, Wouldnt want to be the guy who dumped him behind the fish market thought

    6. Jeffrey Hollar
      August 26, 2012 at 6:28 pm

      Lucky Dog
      I’m not ashamed to admit I’ve had my fair share of one night stands. That’s always just worked better than getting’ tied down but I never forget a woman. That’s what was so weird about her. 
       
      She slid right up with a drink SHE bought ME and that was that. I don’t recollect what we talked about but no sooner did I finish my drink and call for another and…she was…gone. It was like she never existed. I didn’t see her anywhere and no way she walked out that fast. Or did she?
      Well, there I am all confused and shit when this weird little dude plops down right where she just was. He was bald as an egg with thick glasses and a foot shorter than me. He gave off a really creepy vibe and I was definitely going home…until, he started talkin’.
      “Amazing. You appear unaffected. Well, a bit disoriented but still in possession of all of your faculties, eh? Amazing.”
      All I could do was nod. From the way his face lit up you’d have thought I just confirmed I was an alien.
      “There’s only one possible explanation. You’ve never had a single serious, long-term committed relationship in your entire life, have you? I know, theoretically, such men exist but to actually meet one! No high school sweetheart, college live-in, no summer fling…none of that. It simply HAS to be so. That is the case, yes?”
      Again, little dude was freakin’ me and no words would come, only another nod.
      “You don’t know how lucky you are, sir. You simply have no idea. I’ve been tracking her for nearly twelve years and have never found an anomaly like you. She’s not human, you know? No, nothing of the sort; though she wears the disguise well enough I suppose.”
      “My best guess is she’s a succubus or some sort of related being. Suffice to say, she’s the ultimate sexual predator. She reaches into a man’s mind and does…things to it. She draws out the memory of that one special woman who made all the buttons click in your life but that got away. She becomes her so fully, so completely you’d do anything to spend just one night…one hour with her. Of course, in the morning you’d be dead and she’d move on. That’s how it always goes.”
      “But you don’t HAVE such a memory. It’s the only conceivable explanation. She reached inside of you and came out with an empty hand. She had no choice but to dissolve your memory of her entirely and look for other…prey. Oh, I’m sure that must have really irked her. She’s not fed since Racine and that was nearly three days ago. Well, sir, you’ll understand if I have to dash. Simply amazing!” With a clap on my shoulder he was off into the night.
      I had several more very strong drinks before heading home…alone. If you think I had commitment issues before then how do you think I feel now?!?
      500 words  @klingorengi

    7. Laura (@LEJamez)
      August 26, 2012 at 11:43 pm

      Enjoyed this a lot, thought the 'little dude' was great, I could hear the excitement that he had found an anomaly, got excited with him

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