"Just finished it. Good stuff!!! Good job Jason!"
Wow! That was great to hear coming from someone of such stature! Just when I start to get down about sales lagging and the mistakes I still missed, I get a response like that and I'm back in the game! That being said, it's on to this week's Weekly Writing Prompt. As I discussed earlier this week, this was the prompt from writersdigest.com:
"Pretend you are a recovering alcoholic who falls off the wagon while attending your high school reunion. Start your story with “I hadn’t had a drink in nearly 10 years” and end it with “If only I could remember where I left my pants.”
There's some pretty decent short stories on the blog for this prompt. Most people took it more seriously then I thought. But I don't think any of them went as dark as I did. I went way over the word limit, again, but why cut a short story to absolute bare bones, when you can still have a good SHORT story at just over 1,000 words. So here's this week's free writing sample. Enjoy:
I hadn’t had a drink in nearly 10 years. In fact, the last time I let that disease
consume me had been a few weeks before my high school’s ten year reunion. I had gone out on what I had planned as a week-long
preparation to increase my tolerance for alcohol before the magical night when
I had been sure I would be consuming massive amounts of celebratory shots and
drinking away memories. I went a little
too hard that first night and was awoken by a police officer with my BMW in a
ditch. I was booked because I knew
better to blow. The judge still threw
the books at me. This was my third disputed
DUI and despite knowing my rights, I am a lawyer, the judge drew a line and hit
me with the hardest fines he could without solid evidence of my blood-alcohol
level. I had my bar license stripped
from me, my driving privileges suspended, and forced to pay fines. The wake-up call was the loss of my ability
to practice the job I had struggled so hard to obtain. And it became an even greater struggle to get
my license to defend back. Two years of
AA, rehab and kissing the judges ass got me that chance. And now I was never going to fall off that
wagon again. Never. Again.
As I ordered water from the bar, I felt great, no longer
getting the cold, clammy hands I used to when standing by a full assortment of alcohol. Still, her hand on my shoulder caused me to
jump.
“Jonathan Henry Barth.”
There was only one girl in my graduating class who had ever
had privilege in knowing my middle name.
Hearing her say it now brought back hot afternoons in Kansas corn fields
where her hand would be squeezing my neck and whispering my name, my whole
name, over and over again.
I turned, looking down, then quickly back up. Audrey Michelle, whatever her last name is
now, had hit another growth spurt since we graduated high school. She must have stood 5’10”, maybe 5’11,” no
longer sitting at chest level to me as she had done when we had fallen in young
love.
“Hello Audrey,” I said and smiled warmly at her. Her big brown eyes were filled with cunning
thoughts. Her mouth opened up to a
crooked smile revealing a gorgeous row of pearly whites.
“I missed you at our ten-year reunion,” she said
sultry. She held up her right hand
signaling for two drinks. She ordered “Jack
and coke, but easy on the coke,” just like I used to pour them when we would
drink out of the bed of my truck.
“Your husband like Jack too?” That was a loaded question, but I had to ask,
as I could not help but notice the rings.
“Don’t be silly Johnny, that drink’s for you,” she put her
slender right hand on my broad chest and winked at me. “And I would never bring my husband to an
event like this.”
I felt a flurry of activity around my loins. Luckily for my conscious, I had never
bothered with marriage. And I really
lacked a conscious, which was a sad thing for Audrey’s husband. And while I was not going to worry about the
moral ramifications of fornicating with a married woman, I would be doing it
stone-cold-sober.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t drink. At all,” I said confidently and smiled at her
brightly.
“I think you can splurge just this one night.”
“Last time I splurged it almost cost me my career.”
“This won’t cost you anything. I’ll take care of you if you get drunk.”
“Really, Audrey, I appreciate the offer, and that you still
remember my drink.”
“Our drink.”
“Yes,” I found myself suddenly blushing at her and her
uncompromising stare. “Our drink. But I can’t.
I won’t. Let’s just mingle and
see what everyone else is up to.” By now
the barkeep had slid the two drinks in front of her and she grabbed them and
turned to me, presenting my drink with her right hand. She used the drink in her left hand to block
my view of the huge rock and sparkling wedding band. She smiled a smile I knew all too well, it
was the smile that I used to get when she asked for “help with her homework.”
“Just one drink,” Audrey said. Her adult voice melting away to sound more
and more like that young, fiery 17 year-old who had taught me so much about
life. “For the memories.”
Just one drink. My hand reached out and grasped the cold condensation on the outside of the cocktail glass. I shook my head at her and we clinked
glasses. I brought the smooth glass edge
to my mouth. It tasted so good.
The water was cold and shocking. I could not tell up from down. I was in complete darkness. In water. Out of air. I swam, kicking my feet and my arms. Somehow I found my way to the surface just as my lungs could hold out no more. I took a mouthful of water and began coughing. My mind swirled around me. I was really drunk, but the cold water had brought me out of the fog of forgetfulness. I was in a pond, or a lake, or something. The water wasn’t as deep as it had originally felt. The rear wheels of my upside down car were slowly spinning to a stop. Another BMW. I pulled myself to the shore and my heart stopped. I stared ahead at the scene in front of me as I heard voices calling to me from behind, asking if I was okay, saying the police were on the way. There, floating next to the passenger side of my flipped car, were a pair of hands. I could recognize the pair of rings on the left hand. I momentarily thought about fleeing, but one thought keep me from running. If it wasn’t for this one thought I would have fled, reported my car stolen, and hoped no one saw us leaving together. But I was stuck. My life was over, but not as much as Audrey’s. If only I could remember where I left my pants.
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