Working with my writing workshop friends, we played around with an exercise from the excellent book “The 3 A.M. Epiphany
Although my original short, ‘Only Connect’ was a mere thousand words, I liked the strange world we’d come up with between us. A mix of mutants, aliens and prostitution, I knew it could go further. I expanded the story to around four thousand words. This is now available as a podcast – click here to listen or download.
Our Fathers Eyes
Fluffed up blonde hair, baby blue eyes and lips red like the cherry she still has, Britney’s working that street corner as if she’s been doing it for years. Fifteen going on twenty, she has the pimps wrapped around her finger so we can stake out this spot no trouble. My best friend since infant school, she’s always been the leader, she doesn’t feel the fear that crawls in my gut. She sticks out a skinny hip and wiggles at a lone car as it cruises past, swinging her bulky shoulder bag like a flag.
The streetlight flickers, illuminating the broken down houses, the street littered with rubbish. Peeling posters decorate the brick walls, photos of missing children with lank hair and dead eyes – a black triangle symbol sprayed over them, a red five inside the shape.
Another car crawls past, slithering like a slug, the driver not liking what we’re selling. Rainbow neon disguises the colour, but not the age. Rust drips, a geriatric skin disease. Everything here is old, except us.
Britney turns her back, heading to the woman standing further round the corner. Mercedes reminds me of my doll, Pointy-Tits Barbie, I used to call her. Until I met Mer, I never believed a woman could have boobs that shape. It’s all I can do to keep my gaze on her face.
“Bum a smoke, Mercedes?” Britney holds up her hand and flicks it like a trigger. Sparks fly into the sky. “I can light it myself.”
Listen to the podcast for the whole story as read by Rachel Beveridge.
