Fiction Friday: July 14th

A Prompt Challenge

Recently a writer friend of mine shared a list of writing prompts with me. The list contained some really great and fresh ideas, which I loved. To challenge myself, instead of using one prompt at a time, I decided to see if I could combine three of the prompts in one writing sprint. The three I chose are below and a link to more can be found at the end of this story.

1. Give your protagonist an unexpected and unwanted haircut.

2. Have a character receive an anonymous letter asking them to be on a bench an hour before sunset. What happens next?

3. Embrace your character’s dark side. Have them make a decision that is morally dubious.

The chair spun around and suddenly Trent was looking at himself in the mirror. The reflection showed his mouth hanging open in shock. His hands came up to brush over the short bristles of near black hair left on his head.

“What did you do?” His voice was a low growl as he turned to the hair stylist.

She squeaked in surprise and tried to apologize but he waved her off and dropped a wad of cash on the vanity before storming outside.

As he caught sight of his reflection in a glass store front he had to admit, the shorter style suited him. That was his problem with it. He looked just like his brother, and that was the last person he wanted to be anything like.

He rubbed absently at the ink showing below the sleeve of his t-shirt. The twisted roots at the bottom of a large oak tree wound their way around his bicep and into the crease of his elbow. He remembered well the sting of the needle in that sensitive area and the laughter of his brother as he jeered at him from the next table over, where he was getting his own oak inked in.

Trent shook his head to clear the memories and ran his hand over his head again.

“Whatever, it’ll grow back,” he muttered unhappily as he moved further down the street.

Calling the dwelling Trent called home a cabin was a generous description. It was one tiny room with zero luxuries and a leaky roof. The showers and consequently the restrooms of the campground where he resided were a half mile trek away. More than once he’d been reprimanded for being too lazy to make the walk, choosing instead to urinate off his rickety front steps.

When he saw the white corner of an envelope sticking out of the wooden crate nailed to the wall that he used as a mailbox he groaned. He was off the radar as much as he could be. The only thing that was supposed to land in that box was a hand delivered bill for his monthly rent and that wasn’t due for another two weeks.

Snatching the offending paper up he cautiously opened his door and scanned the room. Nothing seemed disturbed but that didn’t reassure him. He grimaced, knowing he’d drive himself crazy if he didn’t read the correspondence.

Tearing it open he scanned the words.

Bench on the beach, an hour before sunset.

Trent cursed and the paper crinkled in his fist. He didn’t know what kinds of games someone was playing, but he really didn’t want to play. He would though. Curiosity was born and bred into him with a private eye for a mom and a detective for a dad. He briefly wondered if the letter’s sender knew his history. His chief concern though was what the hell did they want.

Having looked up sunset’s time one his cell phone Trent was five minutes early for the meeting. He didn’t sit on the bench right away. Circling it casually he took in his surroundings. He had taken a wild guess at which “bench on the beach” the letter had referred to. The one he stood next to was the closest one to his little hut and he often ran on this stretch of beach. Wandering away from the bench he approached the ocean, noticing the sun was starting to sink in the sky.

Sighing he decided it would look odd if he stood on the beach and stared at the bench with the raggedy campground as it’s backdrop, rather than looking out over the water’s gorgeous view. He didn’t want to be caught unaware though so with a glance at the people milling up the beach a ways he started back towards the bench, pacing and making a big show of looking at his watch. The sun was due to set in one hour and three minutes. He would give the mystery person four minutes to show then he was going home and forgetting about it.

Trent couldn’t say he was totally shocked when he recognized the figure striding through the sand towards him. It was eerie though. Having stopped in the communal restrooms on his way out, the image of his new haircut was fresh in his mind. It rendered him identical to the man approaching him.

A grin split Trevor’s face as he took in his twins’s new look. “Looking good bro!”

Trent sneered at him. “What do you want?”

Trevor pouted his lips. “You hurt my feelings, Trent. What if I just wanted to check up on my big brother? I see you’re still living the glorious life of a man on the straight and narrow.”

“I like my life Trevor.” Trent hated himself for the unspoken note of pleading that slipped into his voice. Please don’t screw my life up again. He didn’t speak the words, but they hung in the air all the same.

“You know for only being four minutes older than me you always did think you were so much smarter.” Trevor must have caught the bitterness in his words because he grinned to soften them. “How’s things?”

“Like I said, I like my life. Now what do you want?”

Trevor ran a tattooed hand over his own short black hair.

“Our dear sister,” he paused for dramatic effect. “Has pawned Mama’s engagement ring.”

Trent’s green eyes went wide and he felt the old anger start to bubble up. Memories floated across his mind. His mom’s gnarled hands with IVs stuck in them, the blue eyes and wild blonde curls of the woman he’d thought he would someday give that ring to. The somber black clothes of the parade of people who came to pay respects to his mother. The suitcases that had been packed by the door when he got home from the funeral.

“Why the hell would she do that?”

“Because she’s a cold hearted, selfish child?” Trevor lifted an eyebrow over his own green eyes.

“What’s it got to do with me?”

“Well I know what your plans for that ring were and you were always mother’s favorite-”

Trent cut him off, “I have no use for that ring.”

Trevor smiled but it wasn’t a pleasant expression. “But do you really want some sleazy pawn store to have it?”

Trent ground his teeth. That ring symbolized life before it went down the tubes and his brother knew it.

“Fine, what are you suggesting?”

This time Trevor’s smile was triumphant. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.” Trent just waited impatiently for his brother to finish gloating, saying nothing. “I want to steal it back,” Trevor finally announced.

“What? I’m done with that life and you know it Trev,” Trent snapped.

“Not even for Mom’s precious ring? Not even for a shot at getting Anabell back?”

Trent rolled his eyes. “I don’t know where Anabell is and I haven’t spoken to her since the day of Mom’s funeral.”

“Oh but I have and little Bell misses you terribly. Guess you shouldn’t have left town so quick big brother. She came back the next day to apologize and forgive you for losing your shit over mom’s death, but you were gone.”

Trent stared at him helplessly. He wanted to believe him, but he knew his brother. While their parents had upheld the law his siblings had made a game out of mocking it, eventually drawing Trent into that world. It had taken him a long time to escape it. He knew better, his brother was a liar and a manipulator, but if there was even a slight chance of seeing Anabell again he had to take the risk.

“What’s the plan?” he asked, quietly.

His brother let out a loud whoop and clapped his hands together. “I knew I could count on you big bro, let’s do this.”

More prompts can be found at: http://www.writerology.net/blog/post/2015/11/writing-dares-the-2015-collection