The people have spoken and the stage is now set. On Monday, March 12th two WRiTER’s will step into the ring one last time for the ultimate showdown. Those contenders for the first ever WRiTE CLUB championship will be:
Casey Brooks and Anne Shirley
Each contestant will now have a week to submit a brand new 500 word writing sample, which should be emailed to my wife sometime before Monday. Once the bout starts the voting will remain open all week, closing at noon the following Sunday. The winner will then be announced…and revealed…on Monday March 19th .
Now, this is the part of the show where the MC typically entertains the audience while the competitors prepare for the final face-off. You know, like when Jennifer Lopez sings for the American Idol crowd or Tom Bergeron brings out The Black Eye Peas to perform during Dancing with the Stars. I won’t pretend to be anywhere close to that caliber, but I thinks it’s only fair that after 15+ weeks of asking WRiTER’s to put a sample of their work on display, that I do the same. At one point I actually considered creating a pen name and entering my own contest, but when I considered what might happen if I actually advanced through the rounds I quickly shot that idea down. But what I can do is offer up my own 500 word sample here, purely for entertainment, no voting involved. I hope you enjoy it…and we’ll see you back here next week.
“I don’t see a decent size town for at least a hundred miles,” Cami said, her head peering over the top of the map. “If you gotta go that badly you’ll just have to pull over.”
I stared out across the barren country-side on either side of the interstate. Not a tree or bush even a mangy dog could consider using.
“I’ll hold it for a while longer.”
Cami started folding up the map. “Suit yourself. I guess somebody should’ve gone when we ate lunch, like I suggested.”
I let her dig just hang there, refusing to retaliate. I knew she was right, but admission went against every guy rule there was and only serve to egg her on anyway. It didn’t work though; the playful smile I saw out of the corner of my eye told me she was satisfied her point had been made.
At least the dull pressure from my bladder would help keep me awake. I had been warned the I-80 drive across Nebraska could challenge one’s consciousness, but this bordered on the brutal. Miles and miles of nothingness. As I reached to hit the seek button on the radio to find music with more tempo, my attention was drawn to something out of place on the road a couple hundred yards ahead. It appeared to be some sort of rolled up sheet, or light blanket, but still big enough to worry about running over and fouling the under carriage. Out of habit I checked the rear-view mirror, but the group of semi's we recently passed was still a ways back.
"What's that in the road?" Cami asked as she returned the map back to the glove compartment.
I didn't bother to answer, instead wondering why the sheet was remaining stationary despite the never-ending breeze blowing outside. I flipped down the turn signal and started pulling into the left-hand lane as our vehicle quickly approached the hazard.
An icy chill ran down my spine when the surface of the sheet suddenly seemed to ripple and flex. Something was moving inside. We were right on top of it now, about to speed by on the left side when I thought I spotted something else lying on the ground next to the sheet. It couldn’t be.
Cami must have seen it at the same time. "JASON, THAT'S A PACIFIER!" she screamed.
Instinctively, I stood on the brakes. The screeching tires were deafening, seeming to last an eternity, drowning out the sound of my breath being forced from my body as the seat belt prevented me from colliding with the dashboard. I struggled to keep the car heading straight, but instead it pulled slightly to the left and into the center medium. No sooner had we jerked to a halt I heard the passenger door fly open.
In the rear-view mirror I watched in horror as Cami sprinted unfazed towards the semi-trailers thundering down on her, and the blanket.