fff#42

my flash fiction friday #42 (inclusion)trigger: religion, superstition, tradition, vision, collision.


i see collision coming. and let it happen. is not for me to alter the course of the universe; i here to record+retell…events, people, places…i am the repository, the vision and action not mine except to store for collective memory of who and what we becoming. my place in the world is we time, watching we story unfold, writing we history, creating the mythos of we heroes…
the clash in gallifrey start building when they let woman come between them, usual story…
drops+cutthroat find theyself last men standing by gallifrey one friday night saturday morning so he dropping her home- that eh nothing out of the ordinary, whoever riding when she want to go does drop her, she’s one of the boys but she still we gyul- and the old talk so sweet, when they reach by she, they go inside for a next drink. next drink, next drink, some stale pelau and 2funk later, they find theyself wrap round each other, unwrapped of clothes, and glad enough to keep going.
tha’s how they start. quiet quiet, drops checking she once or twice a week, sunday the sacred day in their private religion. but they couldn’t get enough. drops practically move in by cutthroat, and when you miss one in gallifrey you could be sure the next one ducking the lime too. all then tings was still nice. but when they done bad, tings get sour. cutthroat+drops cyah come round each other and their vex vibes jumbieing the lime. then some night cutters+frank get away because frank open he big mouth and say how cutthroat move stink with drops, like she forget alla we is bredrins, and cutters jump in to defend her. first was just old noise, them two arguing about who do what to who and i trying to keep them from getting too heated because everybody drunk and i done see it go end bad. then frank make a mistake and push he hand too hard and rock the whole table so the 3beers end up on cutters’ shirt+lap.
cutters move so fast frank never see the right hand coming, he just find heself on he back on the floor, still in the chair, watching up at cutters’ screw-pan, beer dripping on him from cutters’ shirthem. i get between them, telling cutters call it a night, time to go. frank pull heself up from the floor, and eh say a word to nobody, he just stumble out.
we eh see frank whole week, then the next friday by gallifrey when he still eh come through, i telling cutters i feel he should check for the man and talk to him, alla we is bredrins, liming by gallifrey every friday night so long now we’s a tradition, gallifrey come like we office, it have people doh know the place if we not there…
cutters say he getting the next rounds and as he get up i make eyes with jestina entertaining she foreign man in the corner, but insteada smiling back at me, she looking confuse at something over my shoulder. i start to turn just as frank come flying past foot first to jumpkick cutters in he back so hard cutters faceplant right there on the floor. another step and he woulda open he forehead on the bar instead.
now cutters might be ninja an’ ting but he get rush from behind and mash up when he hit the ground so he eh get up good, eh catch he breath yet, and as he still staggering to he feet, frank pull back and return the right hand he collect the week before. cutters’ nashy frame spin like m.j. and hit the ground again. this time frank walk out cool cool. i gather up cutters and carry he home, studying how to fix this mess.
i pass by cutthroat same night to talk, and i feel it in the undercurrent, what it is need to happen. me eh tell her my plan but inveigle her with, lewwe have a rockback sunday, nah, and her face light up, eat, drink, smoke, lime…i rope in drops, cutters+frank same way next day.
sunday when i hear the door, i say i going and pee and let drops walk in on cutthroat alone in the livingroom.
silence.
then soft words. hesitant but friendly. i smile to meself, walking off to my room to give them a little space before part 2 of the healing. i fall spreadeagle on the bed, macoing the murmured reconciliation for her laugh as the sign it safe to come back, wanting to be out there for the next arrivals. when i hear her snort, i shake myself and rejoin to find them two sharing the couch, jibbing like nothing ever happen. she watch me and smile, and frank appear in the doorway. cutthroat+drops watch he, watch each other, watch me, and laugh.
frank just inside the door trying to feel out the vibes in the room when cutters bounce in behind him. frank look round then turn round and suddenly the crickets and breeze and birdsong stop. the only sound in the room is cutthroat+drops catching kicks on the couch, and that make frank+cutters look up, watch them two laughing together, and watch back at each other so long i start to hear the cowboy-movie music in my head. then cutters raise a fist, for a bounce. frank watch me hard hard, and put knuckles to cutters’ own.
i pull the bottle from on top the fridge, crack the cap and pour some for the spirits before i swallow and hand frank. this time cutthroat eh say a word about wasting good alcohol on stupid superstition; she cyah make words around her grin at the bredrin gathered again.


walk good.

fff#41 + flash fiction friday #42 trigger

i'ma trigger a new flash fiction, even though as far as i know, nobody else completed flash fiction friday #41, trigger (december30, 2011): dare, dear, deer, fair, fare, fear, hair, hare, hear, here; i suspect it was too hard. but here's my attempt, followed by fff#42 trigger...


nothing hard, a small push; nothing more needed, he was already hers. she see the moment it take hold and take pleasure in the thrill of her power. no reason beyond testing herself, she needs nothing, this is sport.
like any skill the push is smoother with practice, and she want to be effortlessly steady when she pull her chosen one. when the moon full she’s come out to play, to practice, to torture, moving in swift like the hare, tortoise tactics saved for the long game still to come.
this one so sweet she almost change her mind; when he meet her eyes the smile she reward him with freeze him mid-gaze, not quite a deer in headlights, a puppy, joyfully oblivious, assuming oncoming cars play fair…she almost release him then, but the night’s fare was discouraging; his fate destined by nothing more than wrong place, wrong time.
she start slow, building desire in his peripheral vision until he dare look directly at her, and timing it so their eyes make four. squashing the urge let him go, she pull tighter, working control, trying to read in his expression how clearly he could hear her subliminal whispering in his ear. she smile at his furtive, longing looks at her lips, her hair, her hands…knowing he was hers, she entertain herself, pushing, pulling, enjoying equally her effect and his ignorance of it, tickled to think he thought his mind his own, watching him debate the approach, knowing he wouldn’t, couldn’t, until she call him to the endgame.
she tires of toying with him and he find himself next to her, offering her a drink, a smoke, whatever she might want he want to provide, but what she want she can’t take here. she push the idea gently, a small push, and the sudden fear of letting a beautiful opportunity slip away makes him bold. he offer to take her home and her pretended pleasant surprise quickly become real as she realise she deep enough in his mind to catch his mother’s voice in his head, “my dear! that is woman!”
she wishes him less endearing as they leave, feeling the smallest guilt over wasting a fine specimen for sport when everyday good women crying and asking where the good men are.


flash fiction friday #42 (inclusion)trigger, with a nod to consecutive good/black fridays: religion, superstition, tradition, vision, collision.
rules of engagement:
you will send in your suggestions for flash fiction friday triggers (starter sentences/phrases, closers, titles, inclusions, etc.) anytime during the week up to 11.55a.m. friday, trinbago timezone; i will post the new fff trigger by noon friday trinbago timezone.*
if your trigger is not chosen and you think it is too brilliant not to be chosen, you will send it in again the next week.
you will write an anecdote, short story, or novel length prose poem using the trigger provided.
you will add comments and appropriate linkage to my trigger-post indicating your desire to participate and the completion of your piece (don't need a blogger/gmail account to comment on my blog).
you may join in at any time prior to the deadline.*
you will display your piece as a post on your own blog (or as a comment on my trigger-post or fasbook note or whatever, once we can all read it- please make sure we can all access the link to read it, not just those who are your friends on fasbook; there's a way to create public links for that, right?).
you will be done by monday noon trinbago timezone.*[in light of collective busyness and my general mentality, i not pressed about these deadlines 'cause i'd rather have fun reading late than never, so if you want to fff past deadline, go through hard, just make sure you comment on the appropriate trigger-post so we know which it belongs to, and if is a real old trigger, comment on the most recent post as well so we know something new to back-back+read...if nobody fffs i'll leave the same trigger up until at least 1person other than myself writes a piece]*
write fresh!
walk good.

20 common grammar mistakes and a few other tings

the few things that impacted my mind enough to actually pause, open tab, find my way here and note during weeks of no time or energy for anyting but absolute survival responsibilities, plus a flash fiction friday story and new trigger posting tomorrow...
as promised in title; especially liked this for "moot" and "nauseous" entries: 20 common grammar mistakes that (almost) everyone makes.
abbigail ajim's carnival is not woman.
einstein's theory of relativity; i knew short had its advantages...
bes' carnival moment: carnival tuesday afternoon panadigm's rhapsody coming down the avenue on the truck beating sweet sweet kaiso, erasing the lingering reticence from the earlier, lame carnival moment, jumping out llew's car to have him tell me on the walk to cut+clear that the food sharing the backseat with me had clearly spilled and i had a huge, damp brown smear on my pants from asscrack spreading over my left bumsee cheek. thankfully, after a speedy walk and shorts-washing in the production office sink nobody could tell except for the lingering, savoury aroma of geera rising from my nethers, which i maybe eh sure was such a terrible ting...then pan play and it was all gravy...
walk good.
ps: simply because i cyah resist the absurd; worst album covers of all time; the variety of awfulness is quite surprising...

cockenhen/cock'n'hen?

big-up coreysan for finding 1 to photo and big-up nickolai salcedo for the jersey he painting me now that we have the image...walk good.