Discussion Thread for "Looking for America"

[Maid of Marvels]

The woman perched on the barstool, an antiquated goddess on a red Naugahyde and chrome pedestal, and crossed her legs. She tipped the shot glass up and swallowed, her mouth a rictus as she reached for the icy bottle of beer to stanch the molten heat, like lava, flowing down her throat to her belly. "I'll have another," she said then, pushing the empty glass across the bar with one crimson-tipped finger.

How many would end up like her, she wondered; working from nine to five and drinking from six til the clock struck pumpkin. Later on weekends when she brought Jack Daniels home to warm her in that lonely double bed. It wasn't a bad life, she thought, taking another drag of her cigarette. At least it was something.

Anyone know this dame? I know there's a story here.

And what about trains? I know there's a story there - even if it isn't for "America". *nods Yep. I've got one. Ask me about it.

 

[chris2c4u]

"I'll pay," he said, waving his shot glass. "Leave us the bottle." He didn't look at her but into the mirror at the back of the bar, where he caught her eye.

"I saw you. In our building. I'm Jimmy." He drank the shot and coughed, sounding more confident than he felt, older than he was. "I like your work on the society pages."

 

[Maid of Marvels]

One corner of her mouth turned up, though she was certain Jimmy wasn't aware that she might be laughing at him. What kind of person would call someone writing Obits a reporter for the Society Pages. This guy could fund some psychoanalyst's early retirement fund.

"So... " she began, eyeing the bottle and letting her forefinger slide sensuously around its rim. "Do you come here often?" He seemed mesmerized, his eyes frozen in the depths of her décolletage. She gave the shot glass a nudge.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Hey, Jimmy? This story is too long for here, but....

*sits down on a bench*

 

[chris2c4u]

Look up the rules, guys. You know you wanna have a go.

 

[chris2c4u]

Here's our idea... Pick a partner. Pick a place in America. Pick a time. Tell a story about a person, a family, a business -- even a place.

Sounds easy? What if it has to be told in a specific number of posts? Four posts total. Can you still do it? How about in eight days? We think you can.

I quote my esteemed colleague, Marvelington.

Do it, you know you want to.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Do you come here often? What's your sign? Do you believe in love at first sight? Hang on and let me walk past you again.

Uh huh. You know you want me. I mean... erm... You know you want to. Give it a try. It's easier than you think.

*waggles eyebrows

 

[Maid of Marvels]

They sat across from each other in the café; he drinking tea, she coffee. They were a study of comfort, of familiarity that had bloomed and flourished over time.

She rested her chin lazily on her hand and watched him pick up the shortbread from the small plate beside his cup. Lost in thought, he turned the cookie this way and that, examining it closely as if it were a cuneiform tablet, before lifting it to his lips and lowering it again.

Lower. Lower still. He held it delicately between forefinger and thumb until... It hovered over his cup for a millisecond before he plunged it into the amber colored brew.

Their eyes met, hers widening in astonishment as she fought back a gasp of shock. He had done it! He had actually done it! In PUBLIC.

"My god, Professor. You've dunked!"

 

[chris2c4u]

He ate the crumbling biscuit, letting the crumbs drop back into the cup as he looked across at her. The traffic outside honked every New York minute.

"Yes, I dunked. I had to show you what I thought that last tablet meant. You realise what this means? Dunking goes back to Mesopotamia."

The Professor quivered, barely able to contain himself. From under the table came a steady beat, as from a drum.

Despite his demure houdstooth jacket, beneath the table he was clad in speedos and a pair of flippers, one of which was rapidly rapping out a tattoo.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

This is too silly. Everyone knows I color AND number code your apparel so that you don't go outside half dressed. No one appears in public without snorkel gear these days. How gauche!

Molly was the last to leave her office building that evening. The others had long gone - off to husbands and wives, to get ready for dates or simply to wash their socks. She alone had remained. Oh, not to finish work, mind, but to think. To think about what she was supposed to do.

But now it was late, and unless she hurried, she was going to miss the last train home. Molly began to walk a little faster, the sound of her heels clicking on the pavement echoed eerily in the oddly empty city. Gooseflesh rose and she pulled her coat tighter - against the chill or was it something other?

Pausing for a moment to listen, Molly startled, suddenly illuminated by the red glow of a neon sign above her. She looked up.

Cam bells
Cam bells
Cam bells

That's funny, she thought. A bar? She'd never noticed it before tonight and yet she always walked the same way to catch the train. Twice a day. Five days a week. Surely it hadn't been there all along?

 

[chris2c4u]

The club sat and brooded, waiting for it's next story to tell. Just off the main strip, it didn't advertise it's presence but it was there when you needed it.

Away from the bar like islands, tables emerged from the sea of darkness in a half light or an off-white glow of a table lamp, illuminating hands that fiddled with drink or occasionally touched the fingers of the person opposite.

Sometimes it called out to those who passed by who hadn't noticed it before, like a siren.

He looked up at that moment when she came in, a look of confusion on her face, as if she hadn't meant to cross the threshold at all. He smiled and called for another malt.

"And one for her, whatever she's having," he said to the barman. The ex-con swivelled his thick neck and smiled, revealing a gap tooth grin, an enamel and blackness response. "And tell her this seat is free."

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Molly stood still, just barely two steps inside the door and peered into the room, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light. She really shouldn't have come in here. Maybe she should just turn around. The train...

Ready to bolt and run, she saw that she had caught the attention of not one but two of the bar's denizens. The customer smiled while the man behind the bar gave a half-wave and gestured her over with a tilt of his head.

Just one drink, she told herself, still shivering. Molly glanced at her watch. Yes. Just one. She'd still be able to make the train.

The light that hung over the bar advertised a brand of beer she'd never heard of - though the name tickled at the back of her brain like a fly buzzing and bumping against a window pane in a futile attempt at escaping. She crossed the room.

"Whatcha having?" asked the man behind the bar. He gestured again, this time toward the man who had pushed the stool out with his foot and was now wiping off the naugahyde with a handkerchief that had seen better days. "He's buying."

"Take a load off," said the man whose smile had broadened even further, making Molly think - uncharitably, she was sure - of the Cheshire Cat. "My name's Pete. Pete Stone. And yours is?"

"Molly," she replied brusquely, cursing herself for giving her correct name and searching desperately in her mind for a suitable alias to use as a surname. She heard someone order a drink. "Collins. Molly Collins."

Clutching her purse to her midriff, she raised herself onto her toes and slipped onto the stool. "Do you have coffee?"

 

[chris2c4u]

Pete sipped whisky until she settled down. He spoke so only she could hear his voice.

"So, you found the place. Not easy, some say." Pushing the picture across the table in its manilla envelope, he said, "here it is, Don't look." He glanced, met her eyes.

"Wait, for now and then decide what to do. It's never pretty, when it's done to you."

He made for the door.

"G'night Miss 'Collins'", he said with a drawl. He'd see her again. Yes real soon. Real name.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

One story set somewhere in America
(any genre, from any perspective)
Two writers.
Four posts total (two each).
Eight days to write it in.

Any takers? There's a link to the actual thread in the first post of this one. ​

 

[Maid of Marvels]

As always I am up for that but have yet to finish a thread with anyone, I must be too scary or something as they seem to vanish into the ether.

OnHarry

I'm sure there is someone out there who can stick around for two posts.

 

[OnHarry]

LOL you taking odds on that.

 

[chris2c4u]

Does a bump...2 posts with someone else? Somewhere in America. You can do it. Explore here and the main thread.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

*points up

What he said. *nodsnods

 

[Maid of Marvels]

*dust dust dust

 

[chris2c4u]

She should do a link to the main thread. She's good at that. Make it so.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Bossy!

The main thread can be found here:
"Looking for America" (apologies to Simon & Garfunkel)​

 

[OnHarry]

Still ready to do a one of these but I seem ro frighten people away, I am nice really, unless of course you want not nice I cam do that with some effort to.

ANYONE????????

 

[sharingfantasies]

Now that I am off for the summer I can let my mind wander to things other than eleven year old children.

So do you have any plot ideas?

 

[OnHarry]

I am pretty flexible and could write whatever it is that strikes you fancy.

MAybe just off the top of my head say a younger lady calls a tradesman to fix something say a plumber or electrician and she and he discover he knew her father before he died/divorced disapeared and perhaps knows secrets better left unsaid.

The first thing that has come to mind, given a day or so more may follow, what about you?

 

[chris2c4u]

Good luck with the new story!