Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff for hosting the Friday Fictioneers — Flash Fiction of only 100Words. I’ve combined with the 3ThingsChallengeand the words: mattress, golf ball, and green.
We stroll as winds of cooled-heat kiss our skin. The scorch of daylight has faded and twilight means relief, a chance to escape the apartment. Even with a fan, the heat stifles me above my mattress.
I hurry, trying to match the boys’ strides, as mint chocolate chip dribbles down my chin. In the harbor, fishing boats and small yachts reside. To our right is the country club, and an immaculate golf course with greens.
Come dusk, the club turns into the local bar. Sleek design, can’t hide embellished tales, years of laughter and midnights carousing. At night, the patrons care not for decor or social status, but to forget. At night everyone has a story worth telling — even the small.
Kathy walked into TheCorkScrew. During the day it had masqueraded as a cafe with coffee, tea, hot chocolate, soft drinks, and any alcohol you felt like adding. At night the old place truly came alive as the beloved town bar where everyone met to have fun and catch up.
However, the building no longer met fire code regulations. It hadn’t when she started working here as a bartender when she was sixteen, having procured a fake ID. But twenty-five years later the place was so terrible it had to be torn down; even renovations couldn’t save The CorkScrew.
At the front of the bar were bottles from years gone by. For some reason one could still get an ancient bottle of 7Up to mix with lime juice and Vodka. There was original Coca Cola and original Pepsi, whatever you preferred to have with your Rye or Rum.
Kathy along with neighbors, patrons, and friends — some she’d known all her life — had come to the bar one last time to watch as The CorkScrew was boarded-up. Oddly enough, even the rats seemed to be leaving the building, which only made Kathy cry harder.