HI,
below is one of this week’s writing prompt exercises. I had to write for 20 minutes and include 5 random words. I haven’t added or changed anything since except to get rid of typos and smooth out a couple of cases where the tenses didn’t match up.
I include the list of words below. I think the car came from an episode of Narcos (second season, Blackie leaves the car and its contents in Bogota), which we’d been watching the previous evening.
I pushed the door. The Ford’s driver-side door swung out silently. The car was turquoise, an old model but riding it was still heavenly. It was heavy and sat low on its wheels as we purred around the streets of Cincinnati. There was always that beautiful moment when we stopped: the weight of the metal swung forward in response to the brakes. And then held. Perfect control.
I stood and closed the door behind me, the mechanism ratcheting closed. Beautiful.
There were a couple guys across the street watching me. Watching my car. They were in vests and tracksuit pants. Massive sneakers. Bellies just starting to hang over the waistbands. I watched them till they looked away. The car did that for me. Riding a machine like this. Only a real bad-ass would do something like that these days. Leather jacket and pimp’s car. I knew I looked like a cliche but fuck it. I was able to pull it off. No more Mr. Nice Guy.
I knocked on the door of the brownstone I’d pulled up in front of. No response. I hammered on it with my closed fist. There was no way these people weren’t home.
A man opened the door, kept the safety chain on. “Can I help you?” He tried to keep his voice level.
“I’m looking for someone.” I pulled the photo out of my back pocket, let him catch a glance at my piece as I do so. Helps with the answers, you know?
He looked at the photo. “My God!” His face went white, all the blood disappearing into his sweater, hiding in case there was trouble. “Maria!”
I took a step back and charged the door. The guy went down on his ass, the safety chain snapped and the door burst wide, letting out a quick shocked squeak before it banged into the far wall.
He cowered, one leg half raised, both arms up in front of his face. “Please!” he said.
I didn’t have time for this. Maria was just one of the names on my list.
I stepped over him. There! A door swung shut ahead of me. I ran and busted it open. “Maria” was there with her younger brother and their mother. She stared at me wide-eyed, a stuffed giraffe in a choke-hold in her left arm, her right thumb in her mouth in cotton pajamas. Her brother hung around his mother’s neck, looking back over his shoulder at me with his face ready to scrunch up into a bawling fit. Mom screamed and the guy — at least he wasn’t a coward — came running toward me. I stepped aside and pushed him. He fell again sprawling into his family. Mom tried to say something, her free hand fluttering at me, her other hand holding Baby tightly. I checked my pocket to discover another photo. Baby Billy. Looks like this family had recently enjoyed some expansion. Made no difference to me.
I walked up to them. Dad made to get up and I just shook my head, moving my arm to where the gun was. He understood.
I pulled out a box, neatly gift-wrapped. Then another one. Then two more. “Happy Christmas,” I said. “You’ve been good this year. Congratulations!”
I left.
Maria spoke just as I pulled the front door closed behind me. “Thank you, Santa.”
The prompts were:
heavenly
squeak
giraffe
discover
fluttering
expansion
If I could only change one thing it would be the horribly confusing: ” her right thumb in her mouth in cotton pyjamas.”
