The Fiction Relay continues with a new chapter of Suzi’s ongoing saga… will she ever find happiness?
The throaty rumble of the motorcycle forced Suzi from the dream she had been battling. Wide awake with head pounding excitement, she swung from the bed to an alert stance as danger called her name. The past was a blur, her surroundings unfamiliar. She recalled fleeing her apartment with the man called Sam, but little else. The rich knotty-pine of the cabin should be giving comfort, she thought, but instead seemed to be saying ‘leave quickly’. Gathering her things she slipped out the back and disappeared into the woods, as the front door opened. Suzi had no idea where she was, but surroundings seemed familiar so she knew which way to find the road. ‘It always seemed to come to this’, she thought, ‘running’. But this time I know where I’m going, and what I need to do.’ Her watch told her it was after 2, and probably not much chance of catching a ride till daylight. Recalling the sound of the motorcycle bothered her, as she didn’t know who or what that would mean. She would have to be on careful.
Searching the house was a bust. While the others were busy with that bitch Melissa, Blue thought she could save her mom and finish the job, but now she can’t find her. Suzi was the only one that mattered and The Club would be pissed if she failed to deliver. She could imagine that prig Sanderson in her earpiece now. It had been smart to take her bike from the cave, and Blue decided to head for the highway and see if her sixth-sense could pick up a scent.
Suzi knew she had to head West, the map in her head had clearer focus than ever before. She knew what needed to be done when she got there. It was dark and lonely, but the walking was steeling her resolve as she kept her ears on alert. The fog was good for concealing herself if needed, but made it hard to identify friend or foe. The familiar gurgle of the exhaust put her in the ditch to hide, as the motorcycle slowly passed. Suzi was surprised at the small size of the figure on the bike, tensed in concentration. One thing was sure, she did not want to find out who it was.
The girl on the motorcycle went three miles and stopped, puzzled she had not ‘felt’ her mother. Deciding it was time to deliver the bad newS, she called Sanderson. “She’s disappeared.” ‘What about the others?” “They don’t know she’s gone yet, but they’ll be looking soon.” “Beat them to it, you must find her before she reaches New Mexico.”
Confining Melissa in one of the cells, Sam and Ephraim returned to the cabin. “No Suzi and no Blue. Great!” “Well the cars are still here, so she is either afoot or on the back of her daughter’s bike. We’d best go.” “Which way do you think she’d head, Sam?” “West, I’ve got an idea. What about Melissa?” “We just leave her there to join Raj, that’s what I say.”
The headlights were to high for a car, most likely a semi coming, this being a truck route. Thumb out… the hiss of air brakes. “Where you headed, Sister?” “Whatever way you’re going.” “Hop in.”
The Fiction Relay Started by The Reclining Gentleman, is now up to the 26th chapter of The Story of Suzi. Co-authored by seven writers, it takes many twists and turns, depending on the genre of choice. New voices are always welcome… just say the word and TRG will fit you into the lineup.
To see a summary of the adventure so far… SUZI’S SAGA.
Now it’s KC’s turn…
San Juan County Fair
Oops… This was supposed to go to http://tedbooksdailypics.com Have you been there lately?
“Ethel, there isn’t room to swing a cat!”
“I like my Smart Car. It fits me just fine. But, I’m not the one who could stand to lose a few.”
“Well, I never!”
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That’s what the Trifectas asked us to use this time. Here, I’ll let them tell it:
“This weekend we’re asking for exactly 33 words including an idiom somewhere within. Examples of idioms include – add fuel to the fire or wear your heart on your sleeve. You can find more examples and a definition of idiom here. Good luck! ”
To see some Idiom Driven Stories… click the trike.
IN A JIFFY… a story in 333 words
Jeff’s sneakers slapped the vinyl floor as he raced for the Jewel’s exit, clerks in hot pursuit.
“I tell you, I was almost killed!” “Ethel, don’t be so damn dramatic. You weren’t ‘almost killed’, what happened?”
They were gaining on him as he pushed through the door and collided with the woman.
“Listen to me, Cheryl. I don’t know why you have to be so negative all the time.” Cheryl sipped her tea, waiting. “I was going into the Jewel, you know how I don’t like the Jewel, but I just needed some cornbread mix. Now don’t you go rolling your eyes like that. You know I like to bake!” Cheryl stopped rolling her eyes and tried to stifle herself. Ethel didn’t bake. In fact, Ethel didn’t cook, she ate out or got take-in. The only thing Ethel ever made was Jiffy Cornbread or Jiffy Popcorn… Ethel liked everything jiffy, the woman had no patience.
Ninety pounds of blond had laid him flat on his back. The beer he’d been trying to steal went flying as angry hands yanked him to his feet. The woman had fire in her eyes, and took over.
“So, there I was, on the ground with beer bottles everywhere. People lifting me up and thanking me for stopping the thief. A crowd had gathered, you know how I don’t like to be the center of attention.” Cheryl held her eyes still.
The manager had called the police. The woman Jeff bumped into was familiar. She was the one always complaining about something. It had been suggested she shop elsewhere. Now he would have to be nice to her, as she started in on him.
“Well, I tell you, the ingratitude of some people. They didn’t even offer me a reward.” The phone rang. Cheryl answered and thanked the caller for letting them know.
Jeff had slipped away during the ensuing ruckus.
“It’s your lucky day, Ethel. They want to give you the Jiffy you left on the counter.”
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The prompt this time is the third definition (as always) of the word LUCKY (adjective). To read more “Lucky” stories of 33 to 333 words, click on the trike.
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Everything you will need to cook like Ethel…
HORSE SENSE… a 100 word story
There had been a fire at the barn, most likely started by a idiot cigarette. Got the animals out first, then set hither and skither to attack the blaze. Even that old fool of a circus horse got into the act by bringing me a garden hose. I squirted it a bit, then thought stronger measures were called for and filled buckets from the trough. It wasn’t much, just a little scarring in one of the old unused stalls. I’d spent time there with some of the girls. Now that damn horse, she looks at me with one eye raised.
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The Scriptorium had been an easy mark. At the subway, the sack broke, sending words cascading down the stairs to the platform. People helped. A tiny girl brought three over, in cupped hands… Remember, Rain, Rebellion.
SAINT PATRICK’S DAY REVISIT…
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IT’S BEEN 1 YEAR SINCE I WROTE MY FIRST FICTION PIECE… HERE IT IS…
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KEEP ON PUSHING!… another 100 word story
It was hard dirty work. He thought, when reaching this stage of his life, he could just rest. But, it hadn’t worked that way. Not only was he in a dark and confined space, but just a few days ago they put in a new guy next door, he was making a lot of noise every time he pushed. It bothered him, affected what little sleep they were allowed.
“Hey there! Stop groaning, you’re waking the dead!”
“Sorry, can’t help it. I’d heard they said we did this, but these Lilies are heavy.
“It’s supposed to be Daisies, you idiot!”
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HER HEARTS… A 33 word story
I got a call. “I need your help making something.” “Okay, what?”
“A stone heart for Sammie.” “Sammie’s a dog.”
“I know, I want to honor him.” “Okay, then let’s do Buddy too.”
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A dear friend in Sacramento had two miniature poodles. They were brothers, and had been show dogs… Sammy had died. She wanted to make memorial stones to place in her garden. She had studied how to make stepping-stones, so we went to the hardware store and got a bag of cement. Buddy was still with her, so we got him to ‘autograph’ his stone… he was not pleased about that. Susan was so happy with them (and we had a lot of cement left over), that we ended up making some more for past and present dogs. Later, a friend who saw them, asked us to make one for her sister who had loved Betty Boop. It’s a nice idea, I think… Garden Art with a Meaning.
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