I am still finding what it is I want to work into the Friday post space. If you haven’t noticed yet, this site is all about stories. Somehow I find a way to hook a story in even on the days that I am talking about food or beer. But that doesn’t help me for my Fridays.
So far, Fridays have been more of what ever I can throw into the space to fill it. Sometimes a story, sometimes something else, always a matter of what ever I feel like doing. I am looking to change that. The story today is going to be the first in a new pattern of posts.
Right now, the make up of Friday posts I am considering will consist of a crowd sourced story, a discussion of story pertaining to a video, a story prompt, and finally a stand alone story. I will break down what these all mean.
1. Crowd sourced story. Like this story today, it is unfinished. This story may be a beginning, a middle, or even the end of a story. It is open to critique (though spelling and grammar errors are not needed yet). Basically, this story is something that we will write together. I start with the idea and then together we create the finished story. Now we will do this democratically. The changes that get the most votes will be the ones implemented. There is a caveat though. I will always carry the final vote for the story. In the event I don’t agree (no rainbows or puppies will ever work I don’t care what the vote is) I will make changes I deem appropriate.
2. video story discussion. I don’t really care to do reviews. They aren’t something I get into. But I do like to look for ideas and study stories as I find them. What I will do here is share a video I find on Youtube and we can spend some time talking about the good and bad of the story. For the most part I will be looking at short videos, usually less than 10 minutes.
3. Story Prompt. Pretty self explanatory, this is something where I will find either a picture or a snippet of words to prompt some writing.
4. Stand alone story. Just what it sounds like. This will be a day for a completed story.
So now you have a few jobs (yep I am making you work). First, you get to weigh in on the idea of the future Friday posts. Then you get to read the story bits and pieces below and weigh in on that. Nothing to strenuous really, but hey you get to play along in the strange world that is mine.
“You can’t sit out here forever,” she said. She swept the sidewalk around him. “Hell, I would love it if you decided to move now. Some of us have work to do.”
He picked himself up from the curb guard. “Cement was cold anyway,” he said. Timmy stepped around the sweeper and leaned against the outer wall of the store.
Obvious right, she pulled at his attention. “What now?”
“Loitering is a crime in this city,” she said. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere?”
He scanned both directions of the street. “Sorry, I’m waiting for someone.”
“This isn’t my problem. Maybe you should look to shopping somewhere else?”
“I wasn’t shopping…”
“Exactly, and this is why you are loitering,” she said. “Listen, if you are going to gum up the works in front of the shop you may as well put yourself to use.”
“He told me to meet him here.”
She pushed the broom toward him. “This isn’t really my concern. Tell you what, if you finish the sweeping and pick up the cigarette butts I’ll spot you a ten.”
In the early morning the street still held sleep in its eyes. The shops in the area were a few hours from opening. “Fine, but if he shows up soon I’m out of here.”
“Just finish the walk and such. I have a few things to do inside.” The gentle swish swish of sweeping cut off as the door closed behind her. “Kids, I honestly don’t know what else to do with him anymore,” she said.
“You should have culled him years ago.” The voice whispered through the shop like a soft breeze.
She chuckled. “You know that wouldn’t do,” she said. “The bloodline needs to continue.”
“But through him? You could have brought forth another…”
She watched him sweep through the shop window. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”
“Sweep, all I ever do is sweep,” he said. He scanned up and down the street again. “Where are you Eric?” Timmy counted the swish swish swish of the broom as he pushed the dirt beyond the perimeter of the store front. Of all the things mother asked him to do, this took the cake. At least she offered to pay him for it. But only a ten. Bah, his friends made more just for living with their parents still.
When he finished the walk he placed the broom in the storage shed off to the side of the shop entrance. Mother kept it locked at night, yelled at him the last time he forgot to lock it. Hoodlums, her words, stole her brooms and snow shovel. He neglected to tell her that Bobby Anderson was the thief. She knew he held the information back though, he could see it in her eyes when he lied to her. She didn’t call him out on it, so unlike her to hold back on something like that.
“Are you ready?” Eric asked. A year older than Timmy, tried to look older. Tall and lanky, he thought the wispy mustache and goatee he played at made him look like an adult. Mother complained about Eric and his facial hair on numerous occasions.
“Let me finish up right quick,” Timmy said. “Mother said I can have some money for cleaning up a little.” He bent down at the curb and grabbed a few stray cigarette butts.
Eric tapped his foot and crossed his arms. “Hurry, I want to get out there like yesterday.”
“Fine, I’ll be right back,” he said. He shut the shop door behind him. Friends were not allowed inside the store. Occasionally they were allowed in the upstairs apartment but mother kept work and family separate at the store. With that she maintained a policy of no one under the age of eighteen in the store. “Mother?” He called into the back room.
“I see you are with that boy again,” she said. The stare, hard eyes, pierced him. Her lack of approval hit him in the chest harder than a smack across the face.
“He isn’t so bad, mother. We have fun and stay out of trouble.” He focused away from her gaze, away from the weight of her eyes. “I finished the walkway.”
She looked out the front window. “I see,” she said. “I suppose I should give you the money then. At least you will take him away when you go.” She slipped a hand into her pant’s pocket, then took his hands in hers and hold his eyes with her own. “Be careful, you never know what might happen when you least expect it.” She touched his cheek.
“Yes mother,” he said. When she released his other hand she also released the money without another word.
“Ready now?” Eric leaned against the bus stop sign in front of the shop.
Timmy stepped out of the doorway, and shut the door behind him. “Where we goin’ anyway?”
Eric smiled, the wicked smile that Timmy’s mother complained about the most. “I found something in the woods I want you to check out with me.”