From Erin’s tag. This is ver’ ver’ exciting. (I am not procrastinating: I have already finished both my lab reports this week.)
The deal here was to write a story in the time it takes to listen to a song. This is the song (I didn’t choose it, and it sure didn’t give much time to write!):
And this is the story:
Peace Corps – the very name suggests you don’t spend all that long in a war zone. But… things happen. And in a city in a Third World country, with bullets zipping past your head, and I think that’s an RPG… I didn’t sign up for this.
But I had to get out, had to do something better with my life than just follow in my father’s footsteps and stay in one town all my life, maybe die in a crucible spill at the Foundry, maybe get killed in a bar brawl, maybe turn to crime on the side and get shot by some cop… so I joined the Peace Corps because the Army wouldn’t have me. Not that it makes all that much difference here – there’s a War Corps out here too, supposed to be looking after us.
And their sergeant’s a girl – not what you expect, a pretty girl on the front lines. I can see everything, and everything’s moving so slowly… that kid hiding under a porch, trying to look after his little sister, he’s about to get killed the instant the RPG fires and collapses the columns holding the porch up. I’m not superhuman, I can’t get to the kid in time. I’m no hero. I’m a steelworker in the wrong place at the wrong time. Let’s face it, it’s Superman who’s the man of steel, not me.
And then the girl sergeant, her red hair all but blazing in the dusty sunlight, takes aim with her sidearm – with a blue-steel pistol, for God’s sake, when I couldn’t do it with a rifle – and takes out the RPG. And I run over and scoop up the kids and pull them to safety with us. I’m scared spitless, and it’s not a good look, a steelworker saying some skinny redhead girl is his hero because she saved his life and she’s everything a real heroic man should be – but if it’s true, why not say it?
I don’t find out until much, much later who she really is.
So that was fun. Loved the pressure of getting words in fast. This was pretty thick with typos I didn’t have time to go back and fix while I was writing – so I fixed them after I was done. But that’s proofing, not writing – so all sereno, Erin?
Thanks for reading.