Saturday's Surprise: Open the Envelop...
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Saturday's Surprise: Open the Envelop...
| Sat, 04-27-2002 - 11:27am |
Saturday's Surprise: Open the Envelope (m)
Write a short story (500-1,000 words) that contains confrontational dialogue between two characters and has a surprise ending.
Happy writing,
Mac

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My SS: Life's Detours (m)
Brandy walks at a quick pace past a group of tourist, looking down at her watch. She has fifteen minutes to make it across town for her three o’clock meeting.
From behind, she hears someone say, “Baby, you’ve got some fi-n-n-n-ne legs. The kind of long legs, I’d like wrapped around me.”
She stops in her step, turns around quickly and points a finger in the man’s direction. “The only part of me that’s going to be wrapped around you is my fist upside your head if you keep that trash talk up.”
“Whoa, calm down. I was just giving you a compliment.”
Brandy shakes her head and at the same time rolls her eyes. “Compliment, my ass. It’s insulting. How could I ever derive flattery from what you said?” she says, then turns and walks away.
“Now, come on, baby. Let Ernie be your daddy. I’ll take care of you.”
Again, she turns to the man, who by now is smiling. “If I haven’t needed a daddy in the eighteen years I’ve been on this earth then I don’t need one now.” Then sarcastically adds, “Thank you, but no thanks.”
The man’s smile fades and he throws his hands up, giving her a “no problem look” and she’s on her way again. Glancing down at her watch, she sees that she’s wasted several minutes talking about nothing.
Luckily, there’s no one in line waiting to pay the parking lot attendant so Brandy tosses the ticket and five-dollar bill on the counter and drives off. But her luck is short lived. A minor car accident has the southbound lanes of Commerce Avenue blocked so she detours down a side street. It’s a residential area with four-way stops at every corner. Brandy consciously stops at the first few signs, but notices that the clock is ticking closer to her appointment time. For the next few stops, she coasts through when no cars are seen. She’s so concerned with watching for cars that she doesn’t notice the cop car tagging closely behind until she hears his siren.
“God, this can’t be happening!” she yells and pulls her Toyota Celica to the curb.
The officer walks up and taps on the window, instructing Brandy to roll it down.
She does so, then innocently says, “Officer, is there a problem?”
“I’d say so. Ma’am, I’m sure you realize you didn’t make a complete stop at the last three stop signs.”
“I, um…I didn’t?”
“I agree, you didn’t,” the officer says, smiling. “May I see you license and registration?”
Without argument, Brandy reaches into her purse for her license and then into the glove compartment for the car’s paperwork.
After studying them for a moment, the officer says, “Is Caldwell your married name?”
“I’m single, but what does that have to do with a traffic ticket?”
“Nothing. Does your dad have a sister named Mary Jo Caldwell? I dated a girl named Mary Jo Caldwell,” he says.
Brandy scrunches her eyebrows together. “That’s used to be my mom’s name until she got married last year. Finally, after nineteen years she got over the bastard that broke her heart.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, I don’t remember you. I must have been pretty young when you two dated.���
“Oh, she didn’t have any kids when I knew her.”
“So when did you date my mom?” Brandy asks.
“A long time ago.”
Brandy pushes him. “How long?”
“I don’t remember exactly. Let me see, I went--”
“Were in the Army?”
“Yep, I was stationed at Fort Bragg when I met your mom then I got transferred to San Diego.” He rubs his forehead. “I suppose you’d say I was bastard. I left town and never called her or nothing. She wrote a few letters and I wrote back but then I met someone else and I started ignoring her. In fact, I didn’t even read her letters after a while,” he says, removing his sunglasses.
Brandy’s looks up at the officer, her mouth drops as she looks into his “eyes bluer than a Bluejay” eyes. That’s how her mom had always described Brandy’s father’s eyes. They had only dated a few months when he got transferred and by the time Brandy’s mom found out she was pregnant he’d stopped writing. After a while, she stopped writing him too. “That’s sad because she really loved you.”
He hands her license and registration back to her. “I’m sorry that I hurt her. I didn’t really know we were that close.”
Brandy glances at his nametag, then extends her hand. “Officer Doheny, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard about you all my life.”
He grips her hand. “Nice to meet you too. Now, you drive safe and take care.”
Nice work mac. I was (m)
thinking she might tell him who she was, but I like the fact that she didn't need to.
Linda
cl-ozarker
"We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master." - Ernest Heminway
Okay, I'm shamelessly cheating with this, but(m)
this is a scene from the last chapter of my novella. Daniel has just come home from the war, after losing one of his best friends in battle. Livy has just lost her best friend, Lucy, in childbirth after they (the three wives of Daniel and his two friends)and Daniel's family, who they were staying with are robbed and burned out by bushwhackers who earlier beat up her friend and killed Daniel's little brother. (I know, its complicated but it IS a novella after all -- LOL.) Anyway, I'd like some feedback because this is the one scene of dialog that was hard to write. P.S. The wedgewood platter was the last piece of her grandmother's wedding china and had gotten broken when she was moving in with his parents right before he left for the war. She saw it as a bad omen, and buried the platter outside their cabin, until the would be reunited. Whew. This is almost as long as the scene.
Linda
The next evening, Daniel and Livy walked along the fence row in the cool early evening air. "Where were you and Ezra? After the battle, I mean."
"We went home, lookin' for you all." He stopped and swallowed. He sucked in his breath and went on. "It was all gone, Livy. We thought ..."
She touched his hand. "I know. We didn't know if you were dead or alive either."
"There's nothin' left. They even burned the fields."
"We'll rebuild." She looked into his eyes. "That is, if you want."
He searched her eyes. "What do you want?"
She turned away, wondering how to tell him what she wanted. Unsure, herself. "I killed a man," she said, at last.
"Mam told me you saved her life."
She turned back to him, her face pale with anguish. "Daniel, I killed a man that wanted to shoot your mother. He wanted to kill her because she shot a man that had already robbed and beaten Lucy, and murdered your brother ..."
"I know Livy ..." He reached out to her, but she pulled back.
"You don't know, Daniel." Her voice rose in anger.
"Livy --"
"No. They murdered Mr. Sanders and his boy. Burned them out. They left women and children with nothing. Not even food to put on their plates ..." Her face was twisted with rage. "You weren't there. You don't understand. We were at war too." Tears slid down her face; her voice shook. "But we never knew, from day to day, who our enemies were. Or when they might come flying down that road or out of the woods, stealing and murdering. It killed Lucy. As surely as if they'd shot her ..."
"Do you want to live somewhere else?"
"No." She felt frustrated. "No. It's our home, Daniel."
"Don't know when the war'll end. They'll be guerillas and bushwhackers ..."
She nodded. "I know."
He reached out and cupped her face in his hand. "What is it, then?"
"It won't be the same, Daniel." She searched his face for understanding. "I'm not the same."
"Oh, Livy." He hugged her. "None of us is. How could we be?" At last, he said, "I have somethin' for you."
She watched as he went into the shed, and took something out of the saddlebags. He smiled as he handed her the brown paper-wrapped package.
She opened the wrapping paper and gasped. "Where did you ..."
I found it outside what was left of the cabin. Couldn't figure out what was buried there."
She ran her fingers over the fine, dark line where the Wedgwood platter had been repaired, her face twisted with grief.
Finally, she let out a soft, bitter laugh. "It's sort of like us, isn't it?"
cl-ozarker
"We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master." - Ernest Heminway
Good scene (m)
I could feel the tension between Livy and Daniel and was happy when he gave her the repaired platter.
Thanks for sharing part of your novella with us!!!
Mac
Thanks Linda (m )
I contemplated whether Brandy should tell him or not so I'm happy you liked the way I did it.
Thanks for reading and your comments.
Mac
Thanks mac.(nt)
cl-ozarker
"We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master." - Ernest Heminway
How remarkable...
to find one's birth parent like that? Just imagine. I really felt for her when she had those rude guys taunting her. How rude.
I liked the feeling in this story, the delicious unravelling of a secret.
Take care, Eyewrite
Livy sounds like a fighter...
how awful a time she's had. Murders and fires and general pillaging - yikes. That repaired platter was a nice touch. I can't really find anything here that needs polishing - it sounds super the way it is.
Take care, Eyewrite
My SS: Cutting Remarks (m)
It’s four pm and I just now manage to get my lunch break. Today that buzzer on the front door has been going non-stop, what with our sale and all. Typically a haircut and blow-dry costs fourteen dollars; but for one month we have a five-ninety-nine special and let me tell you, it’s been just crazy.
“… What were you thinking? Were you gawking out the window while you were cutting?â€
Uh-oh. Some customer sounds upset. I dry my hands and leave the washroom. It’s not hard to find out which person’s annoyed – I just follow the shrieks.
“YOU heard me, didn’t you? You heard me tell her I wanted layers, with wisps at the back of my neck?â€
A purple-faced, wet-haired woman shoves her stubby index finger into a beanpole’s face. Lars, a regular customer here, won’t be able to handle this. He’ll be phoning his therapist within the hour, I predict. My imaginary armour slides into place as I sweep over to meet my ruffled customer.
“Excuse me, miss. I’m the salon manager….†I’m about to give her my name when she lets loose with her verbal fury.
“…She just hacked my hair off! LOOK at it!â€
Angie’s face nearly matches the colour of her customer’s.
“I’m sorry you found the service unsatisfactory. I’m sure we can discuss this reasonably…â€
“REASONABLY?†Her shrieks rattle the brushes in the disinfectant solutions on each of my stylist’s tables. “Is it REASONABLE for a customer to expect a PROFESSIONAL haircut in your SALON?â€
Angie hands me a magazine open to an ad for Bed Head Ego Boost Leave-In Conditioner. “She asked for a cut like this.â€
“… But I SAID I wanted it more layered with wisps along my neck. Are you DEAF?â€
Every person in my salon soon would be deaf with the way this customer was carrying on. “I’m sorry that you find your haircut to be so unsatisfactory. Would you like another stylist to fix it up a little…â€
“How can you fix it? It’s too SHORT! You can’t FIX that!â€
All the stylists have long since stopped cutting; every eye in the place was turned our direction.
“I’ll tell EVERYONE I know about how HORRIBLE your SALON is. This ANGIE is an INCOMPETANT…â€
“Shall we step into my office to discuss a suitable solution?†I point the way. “Meanwhile, Jeff, could you please sweep up and tidy Angie’s station for us.â€
But this woman would not budge one millimetre.
“Don’t you DARE shove me into your OFFICE to keep QUIET. I want all those poor people WAITING for a HAIRCUT to HEAR just how AWFUL…â€
I’m sure that everyone shopping at the fruit stand across the street could hear this irate woman. “I would prefer us to discuss this in private so my customers can enjoy a professional haircut by my trained stylists. Follow me.â€
“I’m not going ANYWHERE until you MAKE this BETTER.â€
“I’m sure that Angie listened to your request and tried to match the picture in that hair products ad. However,†I’m amazed she hasn’t interrupted me, until I see her fiddling with her cell phone. She punches at the buttons.
“I’m calling the paper. I’m going to make sure the whole CITY knows what crappy SERVICE you have here.â€
“Again, my apologies for your inconvenience. Cynthia, my senior stylist, will work with you right away to meet your needs. Of course today’s service will be on the house. I’d also like to offer you two free haircuts and two styling products. If you’ll just come this way I’ll introduce you to Cynthia. She was trained in Milan.â€
A fly could have buzzed right inside this woman’s gaping jowls as my words sink in. She waddles behind me as we head to Cynthia’s station.
“Cynthia, I have a small favour to ask you,†I begin, ushering the purple-faced goon forward. We settle the customer into Cynthia’s chair as I explain the situation.
She coos at the customer and reaches for her comb. “We’d like a little more body, hmmm?â€
The entire time Cynthia works, the customer keeps complaining. “… The CUSTOMER is always RIGHT. The CUSTOMER is always RIGHT, dammit.â€
“There we go.†Cynthia reaches for a jar on her table. “Just a little volumizing leave-in conditioner to finish off with. I’ll massage this into the scalp for maximum effect. It’s made with papaya, smell?†She waves the jar towards the woman, who swats her arm with a snarl.
“Just get it over with. The sooner I’m out of here the sooner I can warn this city how LOUSY this entire ESTABLISHMENT is.â€
When Cynthia finishes, I hold open the woman’s faux fur coat. She glowers back at me. “You can be SURE I’ll tell EVERYONE how HORRIBLE this place is.â€
She stands out front of the salon jamming two of my most expensive shampoos into her stained satchel. As soon as she’s out of sight the entire salon exhales in unison.
“What a B– “
“Who does she think she is?â€
“How could you even look at her…â€
I catch Cynthia’s eye. “Thanks so much for handling her. I’ll clean up, you can go home now.â€
I toss the combs into the blue solution and grab the lid for the conditioner jar. As I secure the lid I notice the print is blue instead of yellow. That’s odd, the conditioner always has blue print. I hold the jar up to the light and burst out laughing.
That conditioner that Cynthia carefully massaged into our estranged customer’s scalp was actually a depilatory.
Guess we won’t see her around for a while.
Good for
Brandy to be strong enough not to tell the "bastard" what she thinks of him. I like how she speaks up when necessary (with the guy at the start of the story) and keeps her silence when it's best to hold her tongue.
jns
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