The first prize

I have won the first of the prizes (a book) that Velvet Verbosity now gives away in the 100 Word Challenge - which, by the way, has been running (almost) weekly for EXACTLY 11 months. The first one was on February 8, 2008, with the challenge itself having been issued during the previous week. This book is to be read and then "passed along" - left somewhere where someone else will pick it up and read it.

I did some checking in my archives, and although I missed a few of them, recently, I actually have published more than 30 of these 100 Word Challenge responses. That's a lot of writing.

What I would like to do today is repost one of those challenges - but this one was special. Jennifer suggested I should continue the story I started with that 100 Words. And so I did. And over the next two days I published a series of 100 Word segments that all tied together into one story - and yet each 100 words was a stand alone story in and of itself. Take a look - the word that started all of this was "City" and it happened in July of last year.

part 1
He walked into the cool dark of the corner bar, a refugee from the sapping heat and the Sun.
"What'll ya have?"
"Bud."
"Two Fifty"
He closed his eyes and let the cold beer wash down his throat.
"You out lookin'?"
"Yeah. Been poundin' the pavement for weeks. It's brutal."
"Want another?"
"Yeah."
"Hot out there, huh?"
"Shit ya! 'Specially when you're out in it all day. Last few days I've been in every store, factory and office building within ten blocks of here. I'm done."
"Nah, don't say that. You'll find somethin'. Just keep lookin'. It's a big city."

part 2
"Yeah, it's big city, alright. Big and hard."
"Sure, it's hard. Brick and stone, concrete and asphalt, the Sun and the heat - they make it hard. But there's a soft part to the city, too. The people. There's good people here, and they make a difference. That's why I know you'll find somethin'."
"Yeah, from your mouth to God's ear."
He finished his beer.
"Well, I gotta get goin', I guess. I'm not gonna find nuthin' sittin' here."
"Good luck."
"Thanks, man. Thanks."
"Here, have some mints. Big city or no, better not have beer on your breath."
"Yeah. Thanks."

part 3
It was as if time had compressed, somehow; like the last couple of hours happened in minutes. Details lost, images blurred, phrases came to him out of sequence, out of context. But one. "Be here Monday", she had said. "Eight thirty, sharp", she had said.
"A job. I've got a job."
He fought back the tightness in his chest. He took a deep breath and let it out slow.
"Damn."
He walked for a while. He really didn't know where he was walking to - he just walked. And then he stopped. He smelled something. Familiar. He looked up. The bar.

part 4
He walked into the cool dark of the corner bar; in from the heat, and the Sun.
"Hey, you're back. What'll ya have?"
"Bud."
"Here ya go. On the house."
"Thanks."
"So, did ya find somethin'?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I did."
And he told him; about seeing the sign, about walking in and asking for an application, about how he got an interview right away, about how he seemed to hit it off with the lady in the interview.
"So what did it for ya? How'd ya get the job?"
"You know? I think she liked the smell of my breath."

epilogue
He sat at the small kitchen table, nursing the last beer from the fridge.
He heard the rattle of her keys in the hall, and then the lock.
She walked in the door, a small bag of groceries in her arms.
"Oh, you're home. How'd it go?"
"Okay, I guess. What's in the bag?"
"Okay? What's OKAY?"
"A surprise. I got a job."
"A job? YOU. GOT. A. JOB??"
"Yes. I start Monday morning."
"Well ... I have a surprise, too."
"Yeah? What?"
She slowly crossed the room and pulled down the Murphy bed, turned around and said, "Me on top."

Ndinombethe.