Sudden Fiction Prompt Response – Key West


The Zac Brown Band song “Toes” inspired a sudden fiction piece that follows.

Here’s the link for the song if you want to listen while reading. I highly recommend a vacation of the mind. It’s almost as good as the real thing when you let your imagination take flight with the seagulls. I smell coconut and rum. Do you?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eiL_beZtiQc

Key West

by Fay Moore © 2012

So what do you want to be when you grow up?” he asks, as he places a rum punch in her hands. The savory scent of coconut and rum beguiles her. She touches the rim to her lips and sips before answering. She is a decade older than her new friend. He is ripped, tan, and used to the company of older women.

I’m thinking maybe the pirate life isn’t so bad,” she replies, looking out over the cockpit rail, admiring the sky blue waters through which she peers to watch a conch crawling across the white sand bottom under her sailboat. The boat is riding on anchor a quarter-mile off shore.

They laugh. He sits across the cockpit from her, a teak folding table attached to the helm between them. Both recline with their backs against the dog box, feet pointed aft, and drink in silence.

Silence—what a gift, she thinks. In the real world, she spends her day talking, talking, talking or listening to others talk. The only jabber I want to hear is from the parrots, the seagulls. . .

At that moment, she hears a cock-a-doodle-do from somewhere on the shoreline.

Oh, yes, and the famous Key West chickens. I’ll listen to chatter from a cockerel all day long—as long as I have a drink in my hand, she thinks.

Her cockerel in the cockpit begins to babble about something.

Life is good today.

One response »

  1. Silence…

    “There are all kinds of silences and each of them means a different thing. There is the silence that comes with morning in a forest, and this is different from the silence of a sleeping city. There is silence after a rainstorm, and before a rainstorm, and these are not the same. There is the silence of emptiness, the silence of fear, the silence of doubt. There is a certain silence that can emanate from a lifeless object as from a chair lately used, or from a piano with old dust upon its keys, or from anything that has answered to the need of a man, for pleasure or for work. This kind of silence can speak. Its voice may be melancholy, but it is not always so; for the chair may have been left by a laughing child or the last notes of the piano may have been raucous and gay. Whatever the mood or the circumstance, the essence of its quality may linger in the silence that follows. It is a soundless echo.”

    Beryl Markham

    Great short story!!!

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