Friday, December 26, 2014

flash fiction friday #45

flash fiction friday#45 [inclusion]trigger: [sea cockroach and the sand dollar band]

usually, an inclusion-trigger (as opposed to a specific starter, like fff#43's before the fall of the snake oil empire...) is a batch of seemingly unrelated words that must all be included in the piece (eg. fff#23+24; probably going so nex' week) but i put this one [inside] because the phrase isn't to be separated into its word-components for inclusion, but maintained+used as written.
big-up nickolai salcedo for the trigger; like allyuh-self!

rules of engagement:
you will send in your suggestions for flash fiction friday triggers (starter sentences/phrases, closers, titles, inclusions, structural challenges, 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.


Blogger sweet trini said...

just saying i still in, just eh done yet, but my fff#45 sooncome...walk good.

11:37 am  
Blogger Frostblaze868 said...

Trinidad, is not the kind of place where people go mad over celebrities, us trinis, we just too cool for that garbage. Say for example a well known soca singer were to pop up by the doubles man and shout "haaaaay HAAAAA!!!! " hardly anyone would pay notice... Except maybe to let him know: road march title or no, the back of the line is STILL that way.

So after recording label contracts that spawned 4 albums, a tour that spanned 5 continents, forays with models that only wore certain designer's clothes, a drug abuse stint that included only certain designer drugs and a car crash on the Nuremberg while driving the world's third fastest production car... when sea cockroach and the sand dollar band jump out that blue panel van with nothing but the clothes on they back, and a few empty Guinness bottles in hand, on the block that chiseled their talent for percussion out of their habit of beating on random objects, the only reaction to their appearance was one random old man who ask them if they had a spare cigarette.... Which they didn't.

They were ignored until they started gathering a random assortment of items: a tree stump, the drum from the rear brakes of a datsun 280 c, a discarded piece of bamboo, half a plastic barrel, a short piece of 3x3 angle iron and so on which they arranged in a loose circle. They looked around at each other as they produced various drumsticks from special pockets sewn into their levis, and with an unseen signal started simultaneously beating an intricate percussive pattern on the collected items.

With their backs to the crowd, all facing inward, focused only on their 'instruments' they payed no attention to the bacchanal that slowly evolved around them: women gyrating, the men in their close proximity who weren't gaping were buying drinks by the case, cold enough to be wearing jackets of frost, Johnny, white oak, puncheon, sweat and weed smoke mingled in the 7 pm air and nobody was interested in the news, only the RIDDIM.

They didn't even pay attention to the players

Five broken hearts with bodies attached. The beat they played was an ode to the pain they experienced on foreign shores and seas. A drumroll to the glory of musical fame, a bass kick to love lorded over and lost, a rushing twisting tribute to the autobahn, and a spiraling low beat into oblivion to the depths of drug addiction. It was quite the goodbye to the life of debauchery they had dragged each other through, kicking and screaming

No one noticed that all five of them were crying til the bottom of the half of the plastic barrel buss.

They threw the sticks in the closest drain, downed the closest offered beverage and went back from the block that bought them together, to the homes that raised them, to live out the rest of their lives as modest men. Because, as sea cockroach himself said:

"dis music ting go kill me wi, better I did had stay on de block and sell hard weed!"

11:35 pm  
Blogger sweet trini said...

yay for people fffing!
my fff#45@
walk good.

8:12 pm  

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