Young Writers Society

Jimmy stepped into the truck with a case of beer in his hand.

Not that it was difficult - there wasn't a consciousness to the decision, nothing to worry him. He concealed the bottles by his left foot; nobody would see him take a sip from one. He wouldn't be drunk by the time he got home. No, it would take longer than that. He told himself that he knew what he was doing.

Lifting the bottle to his lips, Jimmy's other hand was positioned in the middle of the wheel, going through the motions that weren't even conscious anymore. A foot on the brake with a sudden burst of another car's lights in front of him, a glance into the rear-view mirror. It was habit; the car was a part of him. His shoe went to the accelerator as the car in front of him sped up, and a deep rumble sounded from within the truck. He smiled, took another swig of beer.

Light shone from behind the closed curtains of the living room when he pulled into the driveway. The door was locked when he turned the knob. He reached for his key; it wasn't there. He hadn't thought he would need it.

The front door was always unlocked for him.

Jimmy knocked a few times and waited. A shuffle of footsteps, and Melissa was behind the door. The lock didn't click open for him, but he could hear her there.

"You been out drinking?" she asked.

"Just one beer, on my way home. Mel, Let me in, come on."

"That's illegal, I told you that last time. I dunno if I want to let you in. You're mean when you're drunk."

"Dammit, Mel, I'm not drunk. Just the one beer."

"But you bought more, didn't ya?"

"Well, yeah, but I didn't drink all of 'em."

"But you will."

He slammed his fist into the door.

"God dammit, let me in. This is my house."

"Come back when you don't have that shit in your system."

Jimmy turned and stared at the street, at his truck. Then he twisted around and flung the bottle towards the door. A noise, almost a whimper, sounded from behind the thin slab of wood, from Mel.

"What the hell was that?" Mel's voice was more distant, as if she had backed away.

"Shit."

Ten seconds later, Jimmy was back in his truck, a bottle resting in his left hand as he pulled out of the driveway. Beer dripped down the front door into a small puddle.

***

"Momma, where are we going?"

A tiny, freckled face stared back at her as the woman twisted her head in the driver's seat.

"Didn't I already tell you?" She smiled, but the look was forced on the tired lines of her face. She turned back to face the road.

"I think you did, but I forgot."

"We're going to visit Grandma at the hospital."

"Didn't we just visit?"

"Yes, but we're going again. Don't you want to see her one more time?"

"No. I wanna go home and sleep."

"Close your eyes, then. It might be a while."

"Okay." The child's eyes were already closed, and the word was lost halfway through.

Ten minutes passed, twenty, thirty. Few cars drove past, only the occasional late-night bus or worker going home to their family.

"Momma, are we there yet?" The sound startled her, and she turned to see her daughter staring back once more.

"No, but almost. Be patient."

The light settled for a moment on yellow, then it switched to red.

"Look at the pretty lights, Momma."

"Do you remember what the red light means?"

"Stop?"

"That's right. And what does green mean?" she asked, just as the light ahead changed.

"Go!"

It was an answer and a signal, and the woman smiled when she pressed her foot to the accelerator.

"Momma, look!"

The girl's mother didn't have time to look before the truck rushed through its red light and pulverized the left side. First the mother, then the daughter felt the full force of the impact. Windows shattered, airbags flew open at breakneck speed. The minivan flipped, once, twice, a third time. Helpless limbs flew around the vehicle, uncontrollable with the tumultuous spasms of the car as it flipped through the intersection.

All fell silent and still a moment later. Two bodies hung upside down from their seat belts, pressed up against the ceiling, arms and legs contorted into broken angles. Blood dripped down from their silent figures, soon forming an impossible pool of liquid. It could have been a small puddle of rain.

If only rain were colored red.

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This is for a project of mine. I'm given a random word, and then I base a story off of that one word. This is the first, and obviously it's pretty short. By the time I was finished it was around 11, and I had school the next day. :)

Word #666 from wordcount.org: Easy.

First off I want to say I really loved this story. I think that maybe it could have some more fluidity/transition easier by having more details. For example, Jimmy pulls into the driveway and then all of a sudden he's trying to open the door. Maybe you could include a bit there about him getting out and trying to hide the beer or make sure he doesn't smell like it and then going to the door, but other than that I thought it was great.

I really like how you show us that Jimmy knows he shouldn't be drinking without directly telling us. He's trying to hide it like it's no big deal when he knows it's wrong. Also, you didn't even need to say much about Melissa because you showed us so much about their relationship with the sentence "That's illegal, I told you that last time. I dunno if I want to let you in. You're mean when you're drunk." You are able to point out the tension between them, that they have a history together, that Jimmy has issues with drinking and that it only leads to problems with that one sentence.

I think the greatest part is how you used two different points of view. Doing that really helped me looked at the story from different angles and even have more sympathy for the woman and her daughter at the end. This story really sends a powerful message. I can't wait to hear more from you or see where you take this story in the future. Great job!

*tsk* shoulda stayed home. I wonder why they didn't call the police, but considering stupid decisions advance the story I won't harp on it. I think you did a good story here, but I feel obligated to ask the stupid questions everyone asks, like:
How did Jimmy know where they were going?
Why didn't they just go a different way if it was so obvious where they were going?
Was it actually Jimmy who bulldozed into their truck, or was it some other dipwad?
Why is the pool of liquid "impossible"?
What sort of door was it if the bottle broke on impact? (beer bottles take a lot more to break than in the movies)
I feel obligated to give you a hard time, since I hate 5-star reviews and this is that essentially. It's sad they didn't escape though. I mean, I know there aren't many happy endings in the real world, but still.

Clearing up things that may have been misconstrued:

I wonder why they didn't call the police, but considering stupid decisions advance the story I won't harp on it. I think you did a good story here, but I feel obligated to ask the stupid questions everyone asks, like:

Why did who not call the police? Why did this question even pop into your mind? The characters in the second part of the story aren't aware that anything is going to happen. They just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Unless you meant something different. In that case, I'm highly confused by what you've inferred from this. D:

How did Jimmy know where they were going?

Again, his actions were random. He couldn't go home, he didn't think about the fact that he had been drinking, so he drove. Jimmy isn't even partially related to the characters in the second part.

Why didn't they just go a different way if it was so obvious where they were going?

No idea what you mean by that. ^^

Was it actually Jimmy who bulldozed into their truck, or was it some other dipwad?

xDD I love this. I'm not going to answer.

Why is the pool of liquid "impossible"?

I'm sure my meaning there was "impossibly large."

What sort of door was it if the bottle broke on impact? (beer bottles take a lot more to break than in the movies)

-Hides "thin slab of wood" underneath a rug-

Pfft, it's some kind of metal. Of course.

I mean, I know there aren't many happy endings in the real world, but still.

.. That would ruin the entire message of the story.

Ah, I misunderstood the character shift there. I didn't notice that the characters in the second half were different people. I kinda would've thought Mel might call the police, but that part does make more sense now that I know that the lady in the minivan was not Mel and some unintroduced child.

Jimmy turned and stared at the street, at his truck. Then he twisted around and flung the bottle towards the door. It shattered into a thousand pieces.

That whole thousand pieces part is a bit cliche for me.


A noise, almost a whimper, sounded from behind the thin slab of wood.

"What the hell was that?" Mel's voice was more distant, as if she had backed away.

"Shit."


I'm confused here. I'm probably not reading something right. But what was the whimper?

The writing itself is good, nothing I see wrong there. I'm not going to lie, but I was somewhat bored. Maybe it's partially due to the fact that I'm tired right now. But after I read it I just thought, "Ok, so the drunk guy killed a mom and her daughter. Ok. So what? Crap like that happens all the time." I'm a heartless bastard, so that might be the other thing coming into play. But you see what I mean? I felt almost as though this were a story written for a program for teenagers to avoid drinking and driving. Ok, no, wait, maybe that's the wrong analogy. There needs to be some more beef in this, let's put it that way. It was too simple. I want more feeling. When that drunk guy's truck hits that mother and daughter, I want my reaction to be, "OOOOH SHIIIIT. THAT SUUUUCKS. OH MAN. AWWWW GOD. DANG. DID NOT SEE THAT COMING." In order for that to happen, you have to really develop something bigger. Maybe a series of events that just so happens to lead to the crash, if it weren't for some minor split-second decisions of the characters. Or no. Wait. We see a lot of that nowadays. Nevermind. I'm going nowhere now, I'm just throwing stuff out there. I tend to ramble on how things could go further. Point is, for me I wasn't affected by the ending. But at least you write well.

I was also confused by the character shift, and assumed the mother and her child were Mel and her child, who I thought was the one who whimpered when the bottle hit the door. If there wasn't a child, maybe a yelp would be better there, or some other exclamation of surprise? The way you wrote this gave it a sad, almost this-is-the-way-it-is-but-shouldn't-be mood and I thought you included the bottle shattering into a thousand pieces cliche for support, like this situation were being repeated by different families often. I liked the first sentence, Jimmy stepped into the truck with a case of beer in his hand , because it really helped set the mood, plot, was almost a foreshadowing, and introduced a little of the character. The last sentence If only rain were colored red really drove home the sad mood for me. Great job, really good overall!