Bill O Writes

My buddy Dan started a Facebook page called Everybody Writes: 100 Words on the Word of the Day. I’ve been an inconsistent participant, but on the days I took part, I decided to revisit historical moments, telling a tale in as close to 100 words as I could get. Be advised: These are my fictional accounts of real events (in the case of a famous murderer, I changed the day of the big event, just to have a little fun).

March 10 (word of the day = giggle):

Buzz watched as Neil stepped from the ladder to the ground. “I should slam the door and hit the engine button,” Buzz thought. He couldn’t help but giggle at the image of a quickly shrinking Neil waving frantically in a thick cloud of dust.

“Why’d that stiff goody-two-shoes get to be the first one? Everyone’s going to remember him. I’m the afterthought who’ll be forgotten.”

But Buzz was a West Point man through and through. He’d follow the orders, every last one of them. What the hell? Being the second man to walk on the moon wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

Feb. 5 (bitter):

“Hey, thanks for calling. What will I do next? People have been asking me that a lot the last few days. You, too, I bet. I’ll just hunker in for a while with the wife and the kids – catch up with some reading, watch some movies, maybe grow a beard just for the heck of it. Some people would be bitter, but that’s not my style. Yeah, things might have been different if you weren’t in the race, but don’t worry, Ralph. I’m not the type to hold a grudge. Tipper, on the other hand, you better steer clear of her.”

Feb. 4 (trick):

Someone was knocking at the door. She stopped and listened. Nothing. She went back to work.

Wait, more knocking. A loose wisp of hair tickled her nose, so she wiped her sticky fingers on her apron and tucked her hair back under her bonnet.

More knocking. Mother of mercy, what was going on out there?

Ax in hand, Lizzie walked to the front of the Borden home, threw open the door and saw three short figures on the doorstep: a fisherman, a nurse and a ghost.

The children shouted out, “Trick or …” and stopped, mouths open, eyes huge, as they stared at the warm blood dripping off the ax.

Feb. 3 (stand):

They were trying to get everyone gathered into the church tent, but there were too many people to fit in there all at once.

Two of the kitchen workers were lugging a big bucket into the tent. A guy with coke-bottle glasses tapped on the microphone and fiddled with a plug, as Rev. Jim stood behind the lectern, waiting for the right moment to speak. He looked agitated.

The pretty girl I liked, the one who worked as the nurse’s assistant, tapped me on an elbow.

“Don’t just stand there,” she said. “Hand out some of these paper cups.”

This entry was posted on Thursday, March 11th, 2010 at 5:09 am and is filed under Odds and sods. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.