When I set out to work with Monica on this post, I never thought it would be this much fun.
Yet fun has been only one of the positive aspects of this experience.
And I say this, because this exercise has proven how much unity there is in our blogging community.
It has also demonstrated that social networks are good for more than just posting updates and uploading photos.
Twitter has allowed us to spread the word, post reminders, and encourage fellow bloggers to participate in this group activity.
Through this activity, we have shown the beauty of team work, cohesion, support, encouragement, and appreciation.
It has killed me to not reply to comments, but doing so would have interrupted the flow of our story.
Nevertheless, I have cheered, applauded, and laughed out loud at the plot twists, character details, and the wonderful lines all of you have written.
This story has demonstrated that we love to write; that we love to create; that we love to have fun.
My hat comes off to every one of you.
Thank you for participating and for having made “One Shot, Two Stories” possible.
And to all of you who “tweeted” on behalf of the story, thank you!
We couldn’t have done this without you!
And now, as promised, here’s the story that developed at Monica’s blog.
If you want to see the story that took place here, at One Sister’s Rant, please visit Monica’s blog.
One Shot, Two Stories
Monica’s Tangled Web
On a misty February morning, barely a week before Valentine’s Day, Charlie opened the back door to let the cat out, then boarded his jeep and drove away.
He didn’t take a thing with him, save for the keys, his wallet, and the beaten up leather jacket he’d owned when she met him. He was driving away, leaving everything behind, his past and his dreams of a better future.
His timing was ironic, as it was on a Valentine’s Day a few years ago that this whole adventure started. Turning on the radio, he took a right turn and forced the gas pedal deeper not wanting any more delays. He excitedly imagined she’d be waiting for him on the other side, and he also wondered if the next door neighbor would feed that stupid cat.
It’s with that turn that things began to happen.
The wind drifted in through the open window and reminded him of how windy it had been the day he met her. Charlie reached into his jacket for a cigarette, and fumbling, took his eyes off the road for a moment, just long enough to slam into the back of a pickup.
The cat stretched and made his way back to the house and a lumpy love seat that was a better choice for his kitty dreams.
After a few choice words, Charlie, not bothering to assess his own pain, got out and walked up to the unharmed truck in front of him, only to find it empty. As he assessed the damage on his jeep, he wondered, when did it all go wrong, and why didn’t Pamela try to stop him? That’s when he started to reflect back, although foggy as his brain was after the impact, he wasn’t sure where exactly he was.
Gradually putting the pieces together, he wondered not only if she wasn’t just using him, but if perhaps she was the mastermind of the sinister plot he’d been suckered into—or was he just being paranoid? A bird’s loud chirping brought him back from his reverie and he walked over to the empty truck. Charlie buried his throbbing head in his hands but felt a sudden presence behind him.
He turned toward the morning sun and the silhouette of someone approaching. A voice took him out of trance, more honey than the anger he might have expected, when she tapped him on the shoulder,
“Excuse me, but it looks like you hit my truck.”
He squinted in the sunlight and waited several frustrating seconds before his eyes could make out her shadowed features. She was strikingly beautiful, and his pinball-esque thoughts of Pamela these last few years, and the dented bumper and fender in front of him, subsided.
“I’m sor…,” he started to apologize, but her honey voice and soft smile changed his apology into anger, and he finished with: “What the hell is your truck doing parked in the middle of the road?”
“What truck?” she said, her beautiful face unreadable. She laughed as confusion washed over his face, then said, “Honey, that is not a real truck and this is the private road to my ranch.”
Charlie knew this was a flash back since the Doc told him after the accident he would remember his life in bits and pieces. But parts of her could never be forgotten – unless you want to discuss that one thing….
It was the thing that had come between them, the thing they’d fought about time and time again, until finally he’d had enough and was about to–just then his cell phone rang, and he knew by the special ringtone it was Pamela. He answered, quickly saying “hello” into the receiver and suddenly heard, in a booming voice; “I’ve taken your beloved Pamela and, unless you finish the job I asked you to do, I’m taking her with me to Brazil and you’ll never see her again.”
Charlie didn’t know the resolution of getting rid of Pamela would come so easy, as he was in the middle of his life and wanted to recapture his playa days with the Giselle, who was sleeping in the bed of his truck strip-butt naked.
Charlie swiftly shook his head and wondered if the bump on his head was responsible for the random hallucinations that kept flashing before his eyes.The truck. The accident. The ominous phone call. Christ, even the cat. What was factual? What was merely half-truth? And what was pure illusion, the hazy ghosts of an overactive mind grasping for signs of his intangible reality?
Damn, he thought, I need a beer. He looked at his vehicle and saw it wasn’t drivable, the decision was made for him. He’d walk until he found help or a bar. If he found the bar first he’d drink until he couldn’t think any more.
Charlie peered into the darkness of Hank’s Dude Ranch Bar, the smell of cigarettes and chicken fried steak hung in the so-called air. He edged in slowly, and before his eyes could adjust, he felt several pairs of eyes turn in his direction.
Just then, Charlie’s cell phone vibrated, indicating a text had arrived, one from Pamela that simply read, “Charlie, I love u; come home.”
He couldn’t believe, after all they’d been through, she thought it would be that simple. “No!” Charlie thought to himself. “I need to visit my grandma Dottie, she will help me understand what is happening to me.”
Little did Charlie know that while Dottie had filled in the gaps of his life caused by his amnesia, she had failed to tell him that his real name was Ryan.
Grandma Dottie was the only person he had trusted since his accident. He was Ryan Gosling, Hollywood heart throb in the peak of his acting career.
Grandma Dottie knew she couldn’t just drop that bomb on him. No, she would have to ease him into the realization of who he was and how he had showed up on her doorstep here in Idaho just a few days before.
Grandmother Dottie arranged for someone to feed the damn cat. She got busy preparing her special chocolate chip pie. Some people claimed it was poison. What did they know?
Meanwhile, Charlie’s phone vibrated again: Pamela had sent him a picture of herself wearing his old leather jacket and red scanties.
The photo of Pamela filled him with repulsion and then excitement, for he suddenly remembered who he really was: “My name is Ryan and I’m in love with Olivia! Grandma, I must find her straight away!”
Ryan walked into the yard and smiled at the sight of Olivia’s yellow cat on the loveseat bench.
Memories began flooding back as his pulse quickened. He had Olivia back and all was right with the world!