Free write: A friend

Free writes are sacrosanct on Tuesdays for my husband and myself, but hard-to-get haircuts derailed them. We decided to eat at a favorite restaurant after our cuts, but it was jam packed. We then went to Tapas Taverna for the best guacamole I've ever eaten. After finishing, we did our free write on a prompt from a novel. "How are you doing then, my old friend?"

Rick's Free Write

It was a long walk, arduous in fact, It didn't used to be, but then it had been a few years. Through the forest, along the stream, up the slope to the plateau that overlooked the sea. 

As he climbed, stopping a couple of times to catch his breath, he savored the autumn colors -- mostly yellow, some orange and the rare brilliant red.

His dog, Chester, loped along, sometimes racing after an imaginary rabbit, returning to his side, anticipating a "Good boy. Treat?" which he'd retrieve from his shirt pocket.

Finally he arrived and sat on a boulder worn smooth by a thousand bums over the years.

From here you could see the curve of the horizon and an occasional freighter, bound for the States or maybe Greenland.

Jack had been climbing to the summit since he and Ben were school boys, best friends.

The last time there were here, Ben's heart was starting to fail and not long after that he went into the hospital for the last time.

Jack rubbed Chester's fur and felt a warm breeze on his cheek. He thought he heard a soft voice voice in the wind, "How are doing then, old friend?"

D-L's Free Write 

"How are you doing then, old Friend?"

Craig wished he hadn't asked as soon as the words escaped his mouth.

Priscilla looked terrible. Her hair had not only lost its sheen, it was hacked and greasy. Her model-perfect skin was motled.

"Surviving," Priscilla said. "And you?"

Had she looked like the old days, he'd tell her about his great job with regular travel to Europe, his Mercedes and his condo on Beacon Hill. "The same."

"How long has it been?"

"A decade at least since graduation. How are your parents?" Craig has spent many a a summer afternoon in their pool. Her father with her father barbecuing at night. He was sorry he'd lost contact with them.

"Dead. Heart attack then cancer."

"I'm so, so sorry."

She shrugged. "No one thinks of me as an orphan."

A man was watching them. Priscilla excused herself. "Please wait. I'd love to have a coffee with you. Chat some more." She went to the man who gave her an envelope after she gave him some money.

It happened so fast Craig wasn't sure what he saw -- except he was. It made him feel sick.

When Priscilla returned to where Craig had been standing, he was gone.