Flash Fiction / Blogging / University of Pittsburgh
A light snow was falling. It was night and I could see that further down the avenue the commercial section was all lit up. I was glad I had decided to stay in Pittsburgh to go to school. I wasn't so happy about joining the frat I had joined.
Well this time I wasn't going to take any more guff from Tom. It didn't matter that he was drunk. It didn't matter that he was my fraternity brother. If he had been sober I'd be in trouble. He was too big to mess with, but that night I could take him. I was well into the commercial section when someone spoke to me. The person was past me and I stopped and turned to see who it was and it was Joyce Lynn Summerton.
"And where are you going in such a huff?"
"To kick some butt!" I didn't like the anger in my voice and she heard it, too.
She was in my Monday, Wednesday and Friday ten o'clock. I looked at her hair, eyes and mouth. Her complexion had a slight glow from the chill in the air. There was something in her shoulder bag. I shifted my books to my other hand.
"You don't make it to any of the parties anymore."
"Not like I use to," she said. "Some of the guys get too rowdy for me."
"Me too."
We stood in silence for a moment. Her gloved right hand came up and squeezed her coat together at her throat even though her muffler must have kept out the chilly air. She smiled at me and looked away.
"I'm headed back to the dorms to sit in front of the boobtube," she said. "On a Friday night. You believe it? Just made a run for some popcorn."
I nodded and smiled.
"Well, have to slide."
"Joyce?"
She turned back to me.
"Do you think I could come up and watch some TV too?"
"In my room?"
"I won't stay long. I mean just for a little while. I'm not trying to make a move on you or anything."
"Frank, I don't know."
"You're not seeing anyone, are you?"
"It's nothing like that."
There was a display window near us. Several mannequins in swim suits were on a sunny beach. She was looking at the window.
"I'll have to sign you in," she said.
We started for the dorms.
"So." She took a deep breath. "How've you been?"
"Fine," I said.
****************************************
Author's note: I think you can tell I don't have complete control of this piece but it sure made me feel young again.
The interaction between the narrator and Joyce was well executed. I thought her initial resistance followed by her acceptance was a great moment. You painted a fine portrait of a youthful meeting.
"Well have to slide" needs who said it although you figure it out in a minute. But it's nice not to have to. i too think u r fairly in control. it's a bit different. funny u say u don't plan to make a move. she's trusting. it's good thought you got detoured from the fight or whatever it was going to be.
I think that you were in complete control of this story! You have me wondering about his decision to bypass the fight to spend time with this girl...will they fall in love or become very close friends or....nothing? In my mind, I've decided that they become the closest of lifelong friends. That evening is spent discussing everything from Plato to grilled cheese. The TV is never even turned on!
Been reading your work for a while now, and found that the bit and pieces, like morsels you have feeding us with, are starting to form a life's jigsaw-puzzle.
Intriguing, shrouded in many what ifs, pieces that are coming at random.
Bits from old notebooks share with us secrets don't said aloud.
Well done!!!
Georg
The true story of Cheryl Pierson Cuccio who made headlines in 1986 and her husband Rob Cuccio. Cheryl was abused sexually and physically and Rob died for 43 minutes on Cheryl's 43rd birthday.
Sherlyn Powell opens up about her love and devotion to her family and the overwhelming repercussion when communication breaks down. Heartbroken and distraught she learns to release her prayer and realize with faith God would reunite her family.
TRUE STORY. Bella survived an abusive powerbroker father with organized crime ties, a drug-addicted mother and a physically/sexually abusive brother. Shocking & inspirational. When she couldn't cry, she tattooed a crying angel to cry for her.
Brett
God Bless
Michelle~
Intriguing, shrouded in many what ifs, pieces that are coming at random.
Bits from old notebooks share with us secrets don't said aloud.
Well done!!!
Georg