Todd Loudin heard the shots below his office. They sounded close. He cocked his head to listen. Two more shots and screaming. He rushed to the window. A man dressed in all black ran away from the Glitter Gulch. Behind him, a half-dressed girl flailed on the ground with a hole in her leg. Another girl wearing only a bikini tried to help her. Green bills blew out of a broken grocery bag. A couple bills stuck…
A man dressed in black shifted his weight in the far booth with the girls. Feather hung on him like a white dishcloth and her breasts touched his shirt. She patted his arm when he laughed. The man chewed on a swizzle stick and a baseball hat hung low over his forehead. Cindy noted the corner of his eye when he smiled at Feather. “They seem full of energy,” Cindy said. Bill looked behind him. “The night…
Cindy counted the number of bubbles rising from the bottom of the aquarium behind Bill’s head. A black and white fish floated through the bubbles followed by a yellow and blue. The black and white was missing an eye. Otherwise, each fish looked happy to be swimming in a strip club. “You should add a clown fish.” Bill looked over at her. “Like Finding Nemo.” “You are an odd,” Bill paused. “No, make that a…
Bill DuPree kept an eye open on Fremont Street for fresh beauty to keep the Glitter Gulch filled with long legs and shapely thighs. If they had a nice set of breasts, well, that was cream on the stick. As the manager, he had seen them arrive and leave. A girl would need a firm foundation to attract the John’s, Dick’s, and George Washington’s stuck in the G-strings of their eye candy. Too bad each piece of…
Cindy stood below the unlit neon of Fremont Street and thought about where to go next. Her list, while punctuated with a final stop, still required a place to start. “I’m looking for an evil man,” Cindy said aloud to no one in particular. She stared up at Sally, kicking up a leg in glowing orange and purple. The tall cowgirl flashed a smile and rocked her outstretched leg. A glint of light sparked on…
A ray of sunshine poked up over Sunrise Mountain, snaking its way through the canopy of Fremont Street, falling downward to pause a moment in a puddle of beer, then reflecting upwards to land on the shoulder of Vegas Vic. “Quite a party last night Sally,” the large man beamed to his partner across the street. He attempted to adjust his cigarette. “Yes, Vic. Quite a party.” Sassy Sally tried to straighten out her leg.…
I am a big fan of story prompts whether they consist of a word, a sentence, an idea, or a photo. The story prompt serves as a launch pad for creativity and it prompts the writer to see inward, consider possibilities, and think how the reader will respond. On Steemit, the #freewrite group of writers tackles a daily story prompt provided by @mariannewest. Nearly 250 writers participate by writing whatever comes to mind in five minutes. Some…
Day 131: 5 Minute Freewrite: Tuesday – Prompt: solitude Prompt by @mariannewest. Words by @wordymouth. She walked passing only a few other couples on their way down. She smiled, waved, and appropriately nodded. Not too bad for a Tuesday. There could be more people on the trail. In the canopy, the limbs bustled together in a shallow breeze. At her level, the ground, rocks, and ferns stayed perfectly still. Everything was so green. She listened for…
A Conversation “She really doesn’t know?” “I haven’t had time to tell her.” “Don’t you think she’d like to know?” “It’s not like I’m keeping a secret. I need to time it right.” “I would think the moment you’re gone she’ll know something’s up.” “I doubt she’ll even care.” “Is it possible you’ve already let her know?” “I don’t think so.” “Maybe, the wedding ring has given it away.” “This thing? Well, yeah, maybe.” Other…
My personal writing routine centers around creating at least 500 words of thoughts and reflections everyday. This could be fiction, poetry, a chat-story, or just drabbles. Writing comes natural and I enjoy it. However, those 500 words of fiction writing provide a challenge. Think of writing with your non-dominant hand; the letters scrawl out, but they may not be easy to read. I am a professional writer of non-fiction, and even though it consists of…