Write a brief bit of fiction involving running.
Friday Fiction is your opportunity to write a short (short, short, short) story. Many participants use more than one minute for Friday Fiction prompts, and I open up the One-Minute Writing of the Day contest to entries of various lengths.
One-Minute Writings of the Day:
Writers: Roderckdhu and Marc
From Roderckdhu:
The sales lady came straight out of central casting, big, brassy, with teased hair and lacquered nails. She slide one hand down the front the vest, slate gray, bulky looking, a conglomerations of pouches and straps and boxes and gizmos, all connected by serpentine coils of slick gray wire sheathing. "Does it run? The heart of this little package is a 221 multiphase non-localized quantum inducer. They don't make them like this any more. Why, with a little loving care, this thing can put you in three places at once, so quick you'll be more worried about violating the laws of space-time than whether or not she runs." Joey swallowed carefully. If only she knew why he really wanted the 221 MNQI this would be an entirely different conversation. It would involve a lot of screaming, shouting, and the sound of approaching sirens. Joey smiled. He had gambled that his ex-wife would not recognize him at 19, since they had met years later. It was going to pay off!
From Marc:
"What are you running from?" he yelled from the platform on the other side of the train tracks.
He had guessed I would go west and I had gone east. It wasn't the first time he was wrong about me - but it would be the last.
"What are you so afraid of anyway?"
If I thought he deserved an answer, some closure, I would have told him that just because I was running it didn't mean I was scared.
But I owed him nothing so I remained silent.
His chest heaved in ragged waves as he glared at me. Other passengers were staring now but he didn't seem to notice. Noticing others was never one of his strong points.
I turned my head to see my train pulling in to the station. The smile was on my lips before I could stop it.
It was the last thing he saw before the train came between us, just like his words had that morning.
As I stepped on board I knew that the life I was running towards would never see a scene like this again.
Congratulations, Roderckdhu and Marc! I enjoyed both of your entries so much that I named both of you as winners. Roderckdhu, not only was the sci-fi element of yours fun, but the characterizations and descriptions were also fantastic. Marc, your story was compelling and beautifully-written. You both know where the winner buttons are if you'd like to put them on your blogs!
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legs:
pumping
arms:
winding
breaths:
gasping . . .
I could hear him behind me. I didn't dare look back but I could sense him gaining ground. Not sure how much longer I could keep up this pace, my eyes constantly scanned ahead of me. I was searching for a hiding place, assistance, some sort of escape from my relentless assailant.
As I rounded the corner, I spotted my salvation. Daddy! I jumped into his arms, giggling as our new puppy bounced at Daddy's legs, unable to reach me. My pudgy little toddler legs may not be that fast but as long as Daddy was there to save me, no way would that puppy steal my ball!
I love running! ---fiction!
I responded to this with writing on my own blog here:
http://mymeanbean.com/Blog/?p=2829
I just realized I haven't checked the posting guidelines, so off to check them now!
-K
Despite the fact that, as a family we used to go to the local high school track and jog, I was never good at it.
My father followed my brother's football coach in a training method - divide the track into 4 segments, run a segment then walk, run then walk. My father, despite his cigarettes was an easy and efficient runner. I loathed running.
The dream of my childhood was to have a horse. I loved them beyond any sense for a suburban girl. And my father had promised me one before I turned 12. But he came to me before that time and said that I could have my horse, or the family could have a swimming pool. Despite my screaming heart I picked the pool. For everyone.
One day, he came to me and said if I could run a mile without stopping he would go get my horse that day. Once again, as a family we headed to the track. Just four laps. For me it would be hard but so worth it!Running gave me a stitch in my side and made my lungs wheeze desperately for air but I knew I had to do it. I jogged onto the track and tried to pace myself. Probably got 2 laps into it-halfway- before I felt I wouldn't make it. I was so mad! Trying to breathe and fighting back tears. I was still moving forward, but not in any fluid way.
The next thing I knew my brother David, who was always an athletic boy, was beside me. He said.."You have to keep going!" and he positioned himself a little ahead of me and ran backwards every once in awhile saying "horse". I made the four laps. Not a great distance and not at a speed I guess my father considered running as we didn't head for a stable. I remember after completing the cir- cuits, and madder than hell, I wheezed off the track and ran down a grassy hill. My brother followed. I remember the second wind energy flooding my body and I felt that i could run another mile. Still wheezing but I felt capable. My brother stuck with me and I will never forget that. So many times he was there for me.
I didn't get my first horse until I was 27. She was 26. But I had the best brother in the world.
My hands caressed the dusty treadle sewing machine, and my heart swelled up with memories of my mother’s fondness for it. She had collected sewing machines from all over, had taught many people to sew (including me), and had sewn quilts for each of her children at their marriages and grandchildren at their births. But this machine had been special to her because she had inherited it from her mother. And now it was mine. Could I get it running again?
He was already out of breath, but he had to keep going. He had to go faster. She needed this medicine. She would die without it. She wouldn't die because his legs were too slow.
He ran until he couldn't feel his legs, over rocks and slopes, and then he saw the healer standing outside the house.
He stopped dead.
The sales lady came straight out of central casting, big, brassy, with teased hair and lacquered nails. She slide one hand down the front the vest, slate gray, bulky looking, a conglomerations of pouches and straps and boxes and gizmos, all connected by serpentine coils of slick gray wire sheathing. "Does it run? The heart of this little package is a 221 multiphase non-localized quantum inducer. They don't make them like this any more. Why, with a little loving care, this thing can put you in three places at once, so quick you'll be more worried about violating the laws of space-time than whether or not she runs." Joey swallowed carefully. If only she knew why he really wanted the 221 MNQI this would be an entirely different conversation. It would involve a lot of screaming, shouting, and the sound of approaching sirens. Joey smiled. He had gambled that his ex-wife would not recognize him at 19, since they had met years later. It was going to pay off!
Left. Right. Left. Right. Leftrightleftrightleftright. Each pounding footfall carried her farther from her past, closer to where she wanted to be. Her heart throbbed in time with her echoing steps. She could do this. She WAS doing it. He would never hurt her again.
Breathe! Breathe. Her lungs were burning as she ran. Breathe! They screamed. She screamed, then jumped. The water cooled her off, and she was safe. Breathe. The breath was soft now, and she was safe.
I'm running. I don't know why, or where, or what from. I just know I'm running. I hear pounding footfalls ahead of me, is there something behind me? My lungs ache and strain for air, my legs went numb long ago. There? Something, footsteps, behind me! We're being followed! A gunshot, a cry! a runner falls infront of me, I trip over the person. I'm on the ground, mud smears on my face, leaves scratch my cheek and lips. A hand grabs my wrist, I grab the thin feminine arm, she cries out. I feel the wound on her arm, no time! I shove her to her feet and push her ahead of me. I know we're thinking the same thing:" RUN, keep running, don't stop. If you stop they'll get you, you'll be a prisoner again. Run, even if it kills you." Another gunshot, a girls scream, no, my scream! A searing pain runs through my back, I fall. A yell, hand try to pull me to my feet, i wave them away. i can't run, no more running. I feel nothing, hear nothing. I watch as the shadows run away without me, my friends. As bigger shadows surround me, I see their glowing yellow eyes above me, my sight starts to grow dim. I stare off in the direction that the others ran, i don't know if they made it, I don't know if their safe, I just know that I saved them for now. Will they come for me, will they let me die, will they just keep running?
"Cara!" Anna yells. She bolts straight up in bed. It was all a dream. Her hand goes to the bulet hole on her arm. She remembers running, the feel of fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins. She remembered Cara pushing her forward, willing her to run, then refusing help. She saved Anna's life, as much as she can run from her enimies, that's something she can't keep running from. Like a race horse, to overworked to walk, Anna stops running. She must find Cara.
Some great stuff today, One-Minute Writers!
Roderckdhu--You've unknowingly discovered my love of sci-fi. Love yours!
I'm enjoying reading everyone's responses. I especially like Merriam's and I love the scifi element in Roderckdhu's.
I posted mine to my blog:
http://blythe025.livejournal.com/201714.html
STOP!
ow my poor ankles, gotta get in better shape...
HEIDI STOP!!
ow, ow, ow, shin splints...
HEIDI, HERE, HERE!!
ok gotta walk for a second...one, two, three, four, five...okay running again...
HEIDI! gasp STOP! gasp HERE!
oh, thank heavens, there's someone...
MA'AM, MA'AM gasp gasp CAN YOU PLEASE GRAB MY DOG?!!
(confession - this story is actually non-fiction)
@ Kristen: "I love running! ---fiction!"
Ha, love it. I'll do mine in a sec.
"What are you running from?" he yelled from the platform on the other side of the train tracks.
He had guessed I would go west and I had gone east. It wasn't the first time he was wrong about me - but it would be the last.
"What are you so afraid of anyway?"
If I thought he deserved an answer, some closure, I would have told him that just because I was running it didn't mean I was scared.
But I owed him nothing so I remained silent.
His chest heaved in ragged waves as he glared at me. Other passengers were staring now but he didn't seem to notice. Noticing others was never one of his strong points.
I turned my head to see my train pulling in to the station. The smile was on my lips before I could stop it.
It was the last thing he saw before the train came between us, just like his words had that morning.
As I stepped on board I knew that the life I was running towards would never see a scene like this again.
This was her first follow-up visit. The doctor had turquoise blue scrubs with yellow trim, and a funny little hat with balloons all over it. He looked a lot like a clown. Addie clung tightly to her mother's blouse and the doctor raised her pants leg to look over the incision site and take measurements. Momma blushed, and so did the doctor, as they realized her bra was hanging out. "Addison Joy, let go of my shirt." Changing the subject the doctor said, "Looks good. We're right on track. Here's your temporary prosthesis for Addie's leg." It looked like it belonged to a baby doll. For twenty months, the family had waited for this surgery, for the time when Addison Joy would stand on her on two feet, climb a ladder, pump a swing. Addie's momma wiped a tear from her eye as the doctor said, "Before you know it, ol' girl will be running circles around the house, and it will be all you can do to get her to sit down."
Every day I wake up, feeling as if I’m running from myself. Running away from who I am, what I look like, how I act. I don’t want to be me, the me I am right now. When I was a child, I envisioned myself as someone more powerful, more sure of myself, thinner, prettier, more traveled. But here I am, running after four children, after the future I wanted but haven’t worked for, diverted as I was by diapers, bedtime stories, tricycles, lost teeth.
Now I’m running away, toward an indefinable future, toward myself.
Running
That takes me back... way back to all the bad jokes we loved as kids. 'Is your refrigerator running?... Better go catch it!'
And the best part is, this generation of kids has never heard those old chestnuts, so you can tell them again!@
The ringing telephone intruded in her dreams. Startled and groggy with sleep Wendy leaned over and groped for the receiver in the darkness. Bringing it to her ear as she laid her head back on the pillow she exhaled an exasperated, "Hello."
She could hear a quiet snickering in the background as a young voice asked, "Is your refrigerator running?"
Dang! I just saw the post right before mine.
He ran as hard as he could, his feet pounding against the asphalt. The wind whipped past his face and caused his hair to flip madly.
Just a few more yards he told himself. Just a few more and it will all be over. He pressed on urging his legs to keep moving
Suddenly he broke through the ribbon and the cheer that went up was like thunder in his ears.
“It’s Kimball in first place!” There were more words from the announcer but he didn’t hear anything else. First place.
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