[Day 2 of 365]: Since this is my second day, I’m still filled with embarrassment at the silly things my brain throws onto the page. On the other hand there’s also hope that I’ll be learning something from the entire year of practice ahead. And I’d have to say that I truly enjoyed this writing prompt. I love mysteries, so starting with something that I could morph from mystery to dark humor to science fiction was a lot of fun. I immediately changed the name of the pizza place from Guido’s in the original, because the picture inspired me.
My Inner Critic, who I endearingly call DAEMON (grrr), tried to edit out the duck references, but my Dragon (also know as my MUSE) fought back with his fiery interest in all things yellow. However, once I hit Brick’s Pizzeria, the battle was over and I fell instantly into the flow of writing again. We’ll see how tomorrow goes, though. — LV
Writing Prompt: One week after attending the funeral of a close friend, you receive a postcard in the mail with the words, “I’m not dead. Meet me tonight at Guido’s Pizzeria. Tell no one.”
—(750 words or fewer) from Writer’s Digest Website
Today I got a postcard from Jerry. The odd part wasn’t the duck dressed in black fetish wear on the front, but the fact that Jerry died a week and a half ago. I even went to his damn funeral and shook his new wife’s hand. That bitch wore a black mini skirt and still got everything in the will. Jerry left me the time capsule, which I had to dig out of the back yard, and his old chainsaw. I was borrowing it anyway.
I didn’t know what to think of the 12 words scribbled on the back. “Taylor, I’m not dead. Meet me tonight at Brick’s Pizzeria. Tell no one.” Like I was going to run over to Mom and tell her that my brother had risen from the grave and my proof was an S&M duck joke. She already thinks I’m crazy for being a construction worker when I could have married a rich doctor and painted my nails a different color everyday, just like her. At least Brick’s was on the outskirts of town and served the worst pizza I’ve ever had. None of Jerry’s precinct buddies would be hanging around, hoping for a slice of my ass.
I picked up a burger on the way over to Brick’s at 6:30pm. I wasn’t going to chance food poisoning on somebody’s idea of a sick joke. Brick’s wasn’t packed, so I picked up a menu from the counter and plopped down into one of the back booths. The table was greasy but I was hoping Brick’s legendary lack of service would ignore me.
I watched the door and looked for anybody I might recognize, but there was only a couple of teenagers playing old arcade games in the back. The beeps and bops fought with the radio but nobody really seemed to care. I was staring at the door so hard I didn’t even notice the waitress wander over to my table.
“Are you going to order something?” Her name tag said Julia but her face said fuck off.
“Coffee and lots of cream.”
The front door opened and let in the October wind. I looked up from my fourth cup of bitter coffee as a black kid strode in, bundled up against the cold in a jacket way too big for his 15 years. I sighed. “Fuck this.” I pulled on my wool hat and turned to find my Drywaller’s Union hoodie.
“Tay” My brother’s voice echoed behind me and I spun around. My eyes met nobody and then dropped to the short form in front of me.
“Um, do I know you?” Not bothering to hide my disappointment.
“Tay, it’s me.” Again, my brothers voice came out of a stranger’s mouth.
“Look kid, it’s been a tough week & this practical joke is in really bad taste. Tell your brother or whoever put you up to this at the precinct to leave me the hell alone. OK.” He didn’t laugh or explain. He just pulled out his left hand and opened it. My brother’s cross and archers amulet sparkled in the dim light.
“Where the hell did you get that? Give it back. It doesn’t belong to you.” Tears started to well up in my eyes. I couldn’t believe some punk had found my brother’s necklace and pulled it from the wreckage. They said the train destroyed everything.
He closed his palm and tried to put it back in his pocket. I grabbed his hand, but he was surprisingly strong. “Tay, sit down. Let me explain,” he said.
“You’re going to explain all right. You’re going to tell everything to the cops.” I wasn’t about to be placated. I grabbed him by the shoulders. And then I looked into his brown eyes. Something wasn’t right. Jerry’s eyes were green, but I saw my brother looking out at me. As if he was wearing contacts and the best undercover disguise ever. Somehow, Jerry was standing in front of me. Things started to spin.
“Jer? How can that be you?” I let him push me back into the booth.
“Taylor, I don’t have much time. Do you remember the day we found the archer’s crest pendant in that dead spinster’s place? I never told you, but i went back there– before they tore it down and found something else. A book, with the same archer on it. Somebody killed me for it and you have to find them, Taylor. I’m afraid there’s something worse than drug dealers and pimps here in Hester City. And I think there’s more of them coming.”
What would you say to somebody you thought was dead? Would you question their sanity or yours? Share your writing in the comment section! |
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