24-hour writing contest

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24-hour writing contest

Post  trickynik on Wed May 11, 2011 7:16 pm

Well, recently I entered in a 24-hour short story contest. I had to write a short story no more then 900 words in 24 hours. The story had to be about a blind fruit vendor and his #1 customer. Anyway here's the story I wrote, it's titled "Forgotten":



The vender was always forgetting. So many forgotten memories… so many forgotten moments. His eyesight was worse then his memory. He was almost blind in his left eye, and completely blind in his right. The vendor couldn’t see where he was or what he’d done. Everything the day before was a blur. He would forget what he was thinking at the loud honk of a car or the jingle of coins from a customer. Everything just… faded.

The vendor often thought of getting a real job and leaving his fruit stand behind, but he enjoyed the time he spent at the fruit stand and he would miss the smell of fresh peaches in the morning. The vendor thought about it twice and concluded that he made enough to pay his rent and that was that. Besides, he thought, how many jobs are there that are fit for a blind man?

It was a slow Wednesday morning. The vendor had only had a few customers, and the day was almost through. To make things worse, it had started to rain. The vendor was now humming to the soft pitter-patter of the heavy drops colliding with the pavement. He expected no more customers today. He was about to start packing up his stand when he remembered Caroline. Caroline was his #1 customer. She came there everyday for a carton of peaches. The vendor always wondered why she needed those peaches, but the more he thought about it the more he forgot.

So the vendor waited. He waited until he forgot what he was waiting for and began to pack up. Then he remembered Caroline. He waited longer this time. He retrieved a blade from his pocket and began to cut rotten peaches to pass the time. Juice spilled onto the table in waves. He couldn’t see how unprofessional his colorful fruit stand had become. Peach pits littered the table. The table, once a smooth surface, had now been swallowed by the sticky fluid.

Finally the vendor grew tired of this and just waited. The rain was gone, and it had taken the pleasant aroma of peaches with it. All was still. He forgot all about the ruined peaches and waited. Suddenly the silence was broken with the loud clicks of the spring in Caroline’s steps as she approached the stand. The vendor, remembering his lack of cash in the day’s earnings, began to smudge out the prices on his chalkboard. By the time Caroline got to the stand, the price for a carton of peaches was gone, with the only evidence a big white smudge on the vendor’s elbow.

The vendor reached under the table and felt around for a carton of peaches. At last he found the carton and handed it over with a sly grin. “I’m here for my daily dozen.” She said with a smile forming. “Here you are,” The vendor said, setting down the blade and handing her the peaches. “12 ripe peaches.” She took the peaches with one hand and removed her wallet with the other. She tried to open the wallet while asking, “How much?” The vendor told her the price with a greedy smile. Caroline struggled getting out the cash. Upon hearing her struggle the vendor said, “Here, let me help you.” He slowly took her wallet and removed the money with his nimble hands. “See you tomorrow morning, friend.” She said as she laid a gentle hand on the vendor’s shoulder. He didn’t know she was gone until he heard footsteps off in the distance, and even then he wasn’t sure.

The vendor was packing up when he heard the shot. He grabbed his cane and ran in the general direction of the noise. The shooter was still there, he could hear him breathing. The vendor ran up so fast he tripped and fell flat. His face was cut and bruised, but he was determined to get up. While using his hand as an anchor, he felt something. Peaches. He was surrounded with peaches. He realized he had tripped over Caroline’s body. He reached around for his cane. He found it and pulled himself up. The killer was about to turn and run when the vendor jumped on him and pulled him to the floor. The vendor delivered some hard punches to the ribs, but the killer was younger and stronger. With a single punch to the face the vendor was out cold. The killer brushed himself off and with a few steps he was gone, engulfed by the night.

The vendor woke up a few hours later. He shook his head wishing he could see, but all he saw was black. His memory was a blur. He thought hard about what had happened, but it only came to his mind in quick flashes. A gun shot, a few peaches on the ground, a punch to the face, the vendor couldn’t make sense of it. The honk of a car horn sucked the images away, and he remembered nothing. He got up and felt his way back to his stand. He packed it up and counted his earnings. “Dang,” he said in a tired voice. “Not enough. Guess I’m not taking the bus home today.” He said, and the vendor whistled the whole way home.


In case anyone else cares, the contest was at WritersWeekly.com and there's another one in the summer.
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trickynik
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Re: 24-hour writing contest

Post  BobShmob on Thu May 12, 2011 9:02 am

Wow... that's really cool. And kind of sad Sad
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