Mom’s response to our writing challenge

Mom and Me

We had a little incident yesterday involving 911, the paramedics, and 2 fire trucks.  Nothing burned down and no one was seriously hurt.  (Thankfully) But I’m still recouping from the whole thing.I haven’t had time to prepare a post so I will leave you with Mom’s response to our Writing Challenge.

When Lucy finished her beer, she noticed the man staring at her from the bar for the first time.  He had on a long well loved duster over an old fashioned style of pants that reminded her of cowboys, complete with boots.  The only oddity, besides his quaint old fashionedness, was the palest green tint to his skin and eyes.  He met her eyes, letting her know he knew she knew he watched her.  Then he got up, and up and up.  Without boots he was close to seven feet, with them, he was.

He did not look threatening, and the bar was full of regulars like her tonight, so she let him approach.

” Was that really green skin?” she thought.  “Or did Dan mix her up a little ” special” of his?”.   The beer had tasted like beer tho, maybe a bit flat, but that was part of the draw for her.  The cowboy panned his hand out, asking if he could join her.

“Be my guest.”.   She shifted a bit in her seat, letting the sleeping leg wake as she shifted onto the other one.  All she thought now was ” Which line is this guy going to use?  And will I make it worth his time?”

“Walter said you would be here.”. He sat.   Lucy stared, waiting for him to go on.  He just looked at her, for all the world, like he was listening to some other music than the pop playing in the jukebox.  Not killing her.

Walter was the only man Lucy ever loved.  He was the only one patient with her crazy hours as a police detective, devoted as a dog, and wildly mad.  It was the madness that had her walking out 6 years ago, the sweet nutty man.

A local country band set up in the far corner stage while the cowboy watched her.  The smoke, the smells of fruit juice and alcohol were all she could focus on then, because the room started spinning.

The cowboy scooted closer, the grating of the wooden chair helping her focus.

“I only had one beer…..” Lucy told the cowboy.

“I know, Ma’am.  Better hold onto me until the room stops.”.

He felt warm, smelling like long grasses in a meadow somewhere in spring, not Autumn like it was now.

His hair was that shade of wheat blonde/brown, and the spin of the room lifted it up and out as if there were wind in here.  Her bottle shifted on the table and she grabbed it to stop it from flying off like at the other tables with things on them.  She heard clunks and bangs where things fell around the room, covering her head as a dust devil of napkins whirled into her.  She felt strong arms around her and felt the cowboy’s duster around her, protecting her from flying things.

He muttered, “I hate it when this happens…..”