At the beginning of last week, I edited together all that had been added to a new collaborative short story effort and then handed it over to you readers for a second week to contribute whatever you’d like. So far, we’ve had some great additions!
Below, I’ve edited together what’s been written thus far and hope you readers will continue to add to the story for this final week. Think you can wrap it up, create a title and finish off the saga of Tex, Clyde and Becky? I’m rooting for you and have faith that you can. Here goes….
It was a balmy July night. Cooler than the last few, but the thermometer still read 78 degrees at nine. Becky smiled when she parked the 1950s Chevy pick-up truck high on a bluff, overlooking the city lights below. Then, turning, her ponytail making a flicking motion in the air, she took in the view before her. It went on endlessly.
Despite the lateness of the hour, the full moon cast enough light for Becky to note how there were no mountains to block her view, well…not mountains to most people’s standards. But the residents of Missouri embraced their hills, manifesting them to mighty mountains in their imaginations.
Becky blinked, as if breaking a trance, before pulling the door handle and getting out of the vehicle. A gentle breeze kissed the lower half of her calves, made bare by her rolled up blue jeans. It felt good against the cashmere sweater that hugged her curves.
She walked to the front of the truck and then climbed atop the hood of the car. Scootching herself back, Becky leaned against the windshield.
She was finally free. Free of her abusive boyfriend, free of her crappy job and free of her debts. Everything she owned was in the small tweed suitcase in the cab of the truck. Becky was tired, but still too wired to sleep, so she sat there on the hood of the sun-faded red pickup, thinking about what tomorrow might bring.
What would tomorrow bring?
Becky stared at the stars, daydreaming, wondering and hoping for a new day.
She didn't know how on earth it could have happened, but she fell asleep there on the hood of the old truck. Exhaustion was the best answer, of course.
She was surprised when she woke up and saw a meteor shower overhead and noticed that her neck hurt from the angle of the windshield. Becky climbed off the truck and into the cab, smiling at Clyde who had arrived as she slept. Locking the door and lying her head down in his lap, she fell back into a fitful slumber.
Clyde wrapped a protective arm around her. She stirred, brought slightly out of her sleep by the pressure of his arm. When Becky felt him stroke her hair lovingly, she half smiled and mumbled, "Thank you," before falling back asleep, content that she was now safe. That this man would allow no more harm to befall her.
***
In her dreams, Becky relived what had happened. How earlier that night, her boyfriend, Tex, had flown into a rage, one of many he was prone to, and had threatened to kill her. Other times, Becky had been overwhelmed by the beatings she took from Tex. But this time, she'd been truly frightened. As she tried to block the blows from her boyfriend, she seriously wondered if he might make good on his promise to kill her.
Then, like her personal guardian angel, Clyde had appeared in the apartment. He later told Becky that he'd stopped by for a visit, but once at the door, overheard the commotion inside. He explained how, when he'd heard Becky's strained voice cry out, "No! No more!" he'd forced his way in.
The rest was a blur to Becky. One minute she was her boyfriend's punching bag, the next, she was broken free of him, placed off to the side in a protective gesture and then watched as Clyde knocked some sense into Tex. By the time it was over, Becky's boyfriend was on the ground, rolled in a ball on his side, moaning and holding his nose, from which blood poured freely.
Clyde came to where Becky was and helped her gather a few belongings into her tweed bag. "You won't be back," he said.
Becky didn't respond, least not with words. Instead, she allowed herself to lean heavily against Clyde and be escorted from the apartment, never to return.
While seeing her to his truck, Clyde told Becky he'd meet her out at Make Out Point. He admitted that it wasn’t a very nice place but would likely be the last place Tex, her so-called boyfriend, would look, if he tried to look at all.
Becky threw her belongings into the truck and headed off to Make Out Point, knowing Clyde would meet her there...eventually.
***
"Where have you been?" she asked groggily, her head in Clyde’s lap.
"Taking care of business," he responded.
"What kind?" she asked.
"The kind that needed to be taken care of a long time ago, Becky."
Becky was pretty sure Clyde was in love with her, but he had never made a move on her, never said a thing that would lead her to that conclusion. He was her friend, always sweet and always available when Tex went into one of his rages.
How she ended up with Tex wasn't clear to Becky. They’d met in a bar. She was drunk. Not much more to it than that. She knew from the start he was a problem and yet there was very little she could do to fix it.
So, where will you readers take the story this final week?
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