Distraught over her husband’s sudden death.
Written for Shweta Suresh’s Saturday Six Word Story Prompt, where the word is “death.”
Also for Your Daily Word Prompt (distraught).
“That’s the vellichor.”
“Is that an apparition?”
“No, it’s the smell of old books,” he replied wistfully.
(Exactly 48 words)
Written for Sami Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt, where the word is “vellichor.”
Also for these daily prompts: The Daily Spur (mate), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (costume), Word of the Day Challenge (horrific), My Vivid Blog (whisper), and Ragtag Daily Prompt (apparition).
By the way, I don’t really think the smell of used books is horrific. Just musty,
My bookie invited me to go to a Halloween bash out in the boondocks. He said there would be a lot of booze and babes. He said to think of it as a booty call. So I told him to book me for it.
When I got there, though, things seemed to boomerang. Most of the people at the party were aging baby boomers who were into kinky stuff. I saw one guy dressed like a boogeyman beating another guy with a bamboo stick. A woman was running around topless with the word “BOO” written on each boob. This party was not for me.
I searched for my bookmaker and when he saw me he yelled out, “Boom! You made it.”
“Yeah,” I said, “but I ain’t staying. This place is filled with old farts with strange fetishes. I’m not into the taboo games goings on here. Did you see the guy in the corner dressed like a baboon and masturbating? I’m outta here.”
“Listen to you,” my bookie said. “I thought you were a gambling man, but here you are with some bugaboo up your ass about a little bit of kink. Go on and leave before I give your ass the boot.”
“I will,” I said, “and I’m also going to reboot our situation and find myself someone else to make book for me.”
This silly bit of nonsense is sponsored by Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday, where Linda asks us to “find a word with the letters ‘boo’ in it or use ‘boo’ as is and base your post on it.
Pat was my best friend in high school. He had recently just started going steady with Mary and Mary thought it would be fun to fix me up with her friend Claire. I was never a fan of fix-ups, but Pat persuaded me to go along. “It will make Mary happy,” he said. “And besides, dude, Claire is totally hot!” So I reluctantly agreed to the fix-up. Big mistake!
The night of the big double date came. Claire was indeed a babe, but I didn’t really sense much chemistry between her and me, so I was kind of glad when the night came to an end.
Pat and I had just dropped off our dates and we were heading back to our neighborhood when a car pulled up next to mine at a quiet intersection. The driver honked his horn and both Pat and I looked over and saw a guy in the front passenger seat move his hand and arm in a circular motion, signaling me to roll down my car’s window, which I did.
“Are you the dickheads who were out with Claire and Mary tonight?” The guy asked.
“Oh shit,” Pat exclaimed. “Hit the gas.” I punched it, but the engine of my 1961 Chevy Corvair trembled and I felt the car lurch forward a few feet before the engine sputtered and the car came to a halt.
My stalled car was now surrounded by four rather large, thuggish-looking guys. One of them on Pat’s side of the car asked “Which one of you assholes was with Claire tonight?” Without hesitation, the guy I thought was my best friend pointed towards me.
“You, huh?” said a voice coming from my side of the car. I turned my head around to look at the guy who was talking just in time to feel a fist punch me hard in the mouth. “Stay the fuck away from her or next time you’ll wake up dead.” With that, he and his buddies jumped back into their car and sped away.
I was literally seeing stars. The pain was intense and I felt blood running down my chin from my mouth. I looked in the car’s rear view mirror and saw that I was missing one of my front teeth and the other was loose and almost hanging by a thread.
“What the fuck?” I said, looking at Pat.
“Yeah, sorry dude,” he said. “I probably should have told you that Claire’s married. The guy who hit you is her husband.”
“You probably should have told me? Are you fucking kidding me? Why would you and Mary want to fix me up with a married woman?”
“I dunno,” Pat said, shrugging his shoulders. “Mary said Claire wasn’t happy in her marriage. It seemed like, you know, a good idea at the time.”
This post was written for the Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver prompt in which Stephanie Colpron invites us to write a tale about a mistake and how we grew/learned from it even though it felt like something insurmountable. A true experience or a fictional story.
Sadly, this is a true story and I learned two things from this experience. First, never to go out on a fix-up date ever again. Second, always make sure, before asking a girl out on a date, that she’s not married.
Welcome to October 30, 2021 and to Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (aka, FOWC). I will be posting each day’s word just after midnight Pacific Time (U.S.).
Today’s word is “costume.”
Write a post using that word. It can be prose, poetry, fiction, non-fiction. It can be any length. It can be just a picture or a drawing if you want. No holds barred, so to speak.
Once you are done, tag your post with #FOWC and create a pingback to this post if you are on WordPress. Please check to confirm that your pingback is there. If not, please manually add your link in the comments.
And be sure to read the posts of other bloggers who respond to this prompt. You will marvel at their creativity.