So, let’s be honest. Sometimes we write and nothing works out. Ideas don’t flow. We’re trying to meet a deadline. You know what I mean. That’s what happened to me this week. The prompt was “For this week, your story should incorporate the concept of spirit in some way. (See what I did there ).” I liked that. I couldn’t find a good story, but since I like this contest, I tried anyway. Things just didn’t work out. That being said, here’s my entry:
He was feeling flush. The money was burning a hole in his pocket. He was ready to head out and spend it. “C’mon, Fred!” he yelled. “Let’s go.”
Fred shouted back, “It’s too early. You dragged me into this, so at least follow the plan!”
He glare back at Fred.”That was the old plan,” he said. “We have a new one now.”
“We?” Fred’s raised eyebrows showed his disdain. “Any plan that involves heading outside and spending the cash now is worse than the old one of stealing it in the first place. And why did you rope me in anyway?”
“Just doing you a favor, man,” he said. “I gotta way to make it right.”
“You stuck up the St. Peter’s church bingo parlor and you have a way to make it right?” Fred asked – the disbelief dripping from his words.
“Sure, we go to St. Paul’s and drop a couple of hundred in their offering box. It’ll be cool.”
Fred looked at him, aghast. “Tell me you didn’t say that!” He was yelling now. “Hey God, bless this money we stole from St. Peter’s because we gave part of it to St. Paul’s. Do you really think God will give you a pass because you gave back some of the money you stole from His church?”
He nodded his head and smiled. “Pretty neat, right? The Bible talks about giving ten percent of your increase. I give ten percent and I’m good.” He started out the door. “You coming or not?”
Fred decided to follow him. “I’m coming. I’ve never actually seen lightning strike a person before.” He threw on a coat and followed him out the door. “You’re messing with God man. That is just so not cool.”
He laughed in my face. “And you’re not? You helped me.”
Fred toned down his voice now that they were in public, but he could still feel the rage. “You tricked me into helping you. I’m not keeping any of the money. Don’t count me in.”
He nodded his head. “I see,” he said, “so if you aren’t with me, go talk to that cop right there.” He pointed at the cop heading towards us.
The cop saw him point and he approached the pair. “Anything wrong, gentlemen? Can I help you?”
Fred took a deep breath, and then he faltered. “Nothing wrong, officer. He was just a bit nervous,” Fred pointed at him, “and I was helping set his mind at ease. He was happy to see that you were around.”
The cop looked at him. He beat the cop to the punch. “First time in the big city, officer. I’ve heard too many stories.”
The officer laughed. “Have a good…”
I re-read what I had written. “This stinks!” I said to no one in particular. For some reason I just can’t get in the spirit of writing now!” I highlighted everything and pressed the delete button. I’d try again, just not now.
Interestingly enough, the word count was exactly 500. I also couldn’t find a good way to differentiate the story inside. Any suggestions on formatting?