Monday, April 20, 2009

MySixWriMo Day 20


I feel like I’m on a roll. Let’s see what today will bring.

Here’s today’s prompt from Robert Lee Brewer at Poetic Asides:

For today's prompt, I want you to write a poem (six) of rebirth. There are many different types of rebirth available, including the changing of the seasons, the beginning of the day, religious or spiritual rebirth, a reconfirmation of good in people, re-learning how to love, etc.

For our homegrown prompt, I offer another eavesdropped beauty plucked from Lin’s Garden:

And I said to myself, “That is the last time.”

You can use it however you want: dialogue, narration, or otherwise. Use it in the beginning, middle or end. Then post your masterpiece in the comments.


Stephen said...

Just a word of caution: I must be off my meds today. ;)

Clyde Boudreaux

“Well,” I said, letting the word hang out there so as to make them think I was taking it all in and really thinking about things—like the clock and my life and what it all amounted to.

I said, “Seeing as how I got here a real nice audience, who’s got nothing better to do tonight than to listen to little ol’ me, I guess I might as well give you something good for your money—not that you paid anything for those seats.”

I paused for moment to make sure I had their attention, and then told them I wasn’t always a bad boy; in fact, I was a good little boy, always doing what my daddy told me to, being careful to clean up my messes, so as I didn’t get strapped down before the night was out. I smiled as I thought about how funny that last line was, and then continued by telling those folks about each delicious victim—how I enjoyed the salty taste of their tears, the piercing pain of their screams in my ears, and the smell of everything left behind as I choked the life right out of each one.

Finally, I told them how the police caught me, just after I had finished my business with girl number eighteen, capping off the whole speech with: “And I said to myself, ‘That is the last time.’”

I then turned my head and looked through the plexiglas at all of the mothers sitting there—a few of them shaking with their hands covering their mouths—and gave them all a long grin, knowing it would be the last image of Clyde Boudreaux they would hold for the rest of their God-forsaken lives.

Greta said...

Stephen, this was downright SCARY. Mainly because there really are people in the world as f-ed up as this. And I ought to know; I hail from the hometown of Jeffrey Dahmer.

This is some kinda story. I hope you're planning to do something with it. It's really good.

Greta said...

Ok, now that we're all scared silly, here's my offering.

I cheated on many levels, sentence counts and rewording the prompt. :)

The Last Time

They jumped when they saw me, righting clothes that weren’t wrong, standing too close to one another and the guilty, rumpled bed as they shifted on their stockinged feet.

“I can explain,” Jay said, but his bullshit floated through empty air.

I ran down the stairs and out the complex door.

I’d been in the next room, playing cards with our friends. I wondered how they thought they’d hide it from me.

Now I stood shivering in the razor cold, no jacket, no ride, but I wouldn’t go back. I told myself that this was the last time.

We’d met at the bowling alley, me and Heather. She was the girlfriend of my then-boyfriend’s friend. Steve said she was a slut; a week later, she giggled on his lap. They’d looked so guilty. I wondered how they thought they’d hide it from me.

The first time should have been the last.

Stephen said...

Interesting thought while reading your story, Greta. There are two types of guys who say a girl is a slut: those who know for certain, and those who wished they knew. ;)

Good stuff. I enjoyed the line about his B/S floating through empty air. Nice.

J.C. Towler said...

Good grief, you guys have set the bar awful high for today. Greta and Jeffery Dahmler...who would have guessed it. What is there, about 2 degrees of separation there? Scary.

My effort:

Seeing the world upside down was the last thing I remembered before waking up outside the car staring up at the treetops. The pain in my back intense; I thought I was laying on a jaggged rock and tried to sit up, but a hand on my shoulder restrained me.
"You probably shouldn't," she said.
I never remember her name, but she sat with me as the minutes dragged by, keeping me awake, distracting me from the pain and even finding ways to make me laugh.
At some point, after the agony started becoming unbearable, I told her I thought this had happened as a punishment; I had lived a frivolous life and so a celestial finger had nudged my car off the road and I was going to suffer a painful end.
She said she doubted it very much, but that if it made me feel better, I should use this moment to redirect my life; to become that better person that I always wanted to be, just in case I did somehow manage to survive.
I did, and I have been a new man ever since.

I'm going to be out of action for at least 2 or 3 days: my wife is coming back from an overseas trip and I have to drive up to Dulles to pick her up and we're going to stay in the D.C. area for a day or two depending on how she feels. I'll catch up with you guys Thursday or Friday.



Greta said...

Even scarier is that I had brunch in his old neighborhood a few weeks ago :) (Real brunch, not cannibal)

You packed a major character arc into that 6, John. And you pulled it off.

Have a good trip to DC.