FF - They met in a New York City taxi

Fast Fiction is fiction written fast. The object is to get your brain thinking about a given subject without interference from “reason”. Go for the 30 minute time limit.

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JillStar
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FF - They met in a New York City taxi

Postby JillStar » Fri Oct 28, 2011 6:59 pm

jillstar wrote: Fast Fiction is just that... fiction written fast. Please visit What is FAST FICTION for more information.

Look at the subject for today's Fast Fiction at the end of this post... once you have the slightest beginning to your story… begin to write. Don't stop to ponder the meaning behind your writing or try to "fix" it so it's perfect... just write.

If you want to include your Fast Fiction finished product on WordTrip, simply add it to this thread. We would love it!

REMINDER: Please keep your stories PG13 if posted on the site. If you want a critique after you are complete, please consider using your writing group for help in that area or send a PM to one of us.

... try to stick to the 30 minutes time limit... ready, set... WRITE!

SUBJECT: They met in a New York City taxi.
Last edited by JillStar on Fri Dec 16, 2011 11:11 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Fast Fiction Friday Blog 2011-2018: Additional FFF Prompts
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Postby timberline » Sat Oct 29, 2011 7:33 pm

Hey, Jill. Just caught this on the fly. WT has a good format for handling shorts and comments. Better than FB. (P.s., we can always woo people awaqy from FB. They're so fickle.)

I'm up in the Boston area for a few days, but let me give this prompt some thought. Cheers!
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Postby timberline » Tue Nov 01, 2011 11:20 am

Re "New York Taxi," this was done some time ago, but I'm afraid to send it out to snarly editors. You tell me if it's just a setup for the reveal or not. Jill can verify it took 30 minutes to write.

Nun on the Run
Sidney Berger was exhausted and still had two hours to drive the fleet cab before his shift ended. The container of coffee on the dashboard wasn’t keeping him awake, but he shook off the fatigue when he saw the nun flag his cab from the corner of Perry and Charles Street in Greenwich Village. Finally a fare. Probably a lousy tip coming up, but something indefinable excited him. She could have been Darcy McFarquhar—Darcy who graduated high school with him, went on to become a novitiate in the orders of Saint Somebody, and took his soul with her.

He wheeled the car to the curb.

“Where to, Sister?”

“West Eighty-Eighth Street, please. I’ll tell you the building number when we get there.” She slid in, tucked her habit safely inside the cab and closed the door carefully.

Berger couldn’t stop gazing at her in his rearview mirror as they cruised up Eighth Avenue. She had fair skin, from what he could see, and displayed an air of serenity that was missing from his life. What did Sidney have now but an equally tired wife, three squawling kids, rent receipts, a pain-in-the-ass brother-in-law.

“How long have you been in the service of the church?” he asked, hoping to start a conversation. The fantasy he had buried was coming to the surface. His palms were becoming sweaty.

“You’ve been staring at me,” she said in a throaty voice. “I know you have questions. Most people do. My name is Monique Arielle Johnson and I took the orders twelve years ago and it was for two reasons—God’s calling and the fact that my mother hated me. You can call me Sister Anne—or just Monique if that’s more comfortable.”

The cabbie was silent for a minute. Those were, generally, the questions he was going to ask. They crossed Forty-Second Street before he spoke again.

“I have another question, Sister, but I don’t want to offend you.” It was now or never, he thought.

The nun smiled. “My son, you can’t offend me. When you’ve been a nun as long as I have, you’ve seen and heard just about everything. I’m sure that there’s nothing you could say or ask that would surprise me.”

He paused, and then burst out. “Well, I’ve always had a fantasy of kissing a nun. It’s not perverted, just a kind of…of blesssing I’m looking for. Whaddya call it, closure.”

“I’m afraid I’ve never heard that problem.” The nun gave what might have been a laugh. “I’ll allow one kiss, but only if you’re single…and you must be Catholic.”

Berger felt his pulse raging and the blood pounding in his head. “Oh, yes,” he blurted, “I’m single; and I’m Catholic too.”

“All right,” Monique said with a small smile. “Pull over to the side of the avenue and I’ll give you a kiss.”

Sidney parked the car, got out and came around to the passenger side. Monique opened her door, stood up and put her arms around Berger’s neck. Their kiss was deep and exploratory and seemed to go forever. His heart pounded and he felt a release from the fantasies he’d had. Silently, his lips formed the word Darcy.

Stepping back onto the sidewalk, Berger felt a wave of gratitude. The wish he’d had since he lost Darcy, the daydream that never went away, had been fulfilled. He got behind the wheel and turned into traffic. As they drove north along the silent streets, a tear started to form behind his eyes, and then escaped down his cheek. Who was he kidding? Darcy was never coming back. In the back seat, the nun noticed as he snuffled and wiped his nose with his sleeve.

“My child,” she said, touching the Lucite partition that separated them. “Why are you crying?”

“Forgive me, Monique—Sister—, but I sinned. I lied to you. I have to confess. I’m married and I’m Jewish. I made believe you were a girl I once knew.” In the mirror, he watched a slow smile cross Sister Anne’s face.

“That’s all right, I knew it. I saw your name on the hack license.”

“You forgive me?”

“Not a problem, Sidney. I lied too. My name is Kevin and I’m on my way to a Halloween party. Except that my mother still hates me, and that’s the truth.”

# # #
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Postby JillStar » Fri Nov 04, 2011 11:21 pm

HAHAHAHAHA! Wow... I was not even expecting that ending! That's fantastic... I love this story Timber. You did a great job of drawing me in and keeping my attention. I really had no idea where this was heading... perhaps I truly am gullible. :) :wink:
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Postby timberline » Sat Nov 05, 2011 9:18 am

Thanks, Jill. This truly is a trunk story--2005 vintage--but my question will stands: Will editors gnash their teeth and scream "I was taken in! No more stories written around punchlines!" Do all editors suffer from hemhorroids or something?
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Postby funkywriter3 » Sun Dec 18, 2011 7:25 pm

(I just needed to write. I am not a fiction writer, but sometimes prompts just speak to us)


The first time they met was in a New York City taxi. Both had snuggled on a plane from Doha and both wanted to continue to snuggle in the back seat. He grabbed her around her shoulders and she buried her head into his chest. She hoped that he liked her and that he was not jet lagged, but all he could think was how he hoped she liked him and how hopefully she was not jet lagged. They observed Christmas lights from cold fog windows and she drew a heart with her chapped ring finger, but her window was too cold to leave a mark. She and he had seen romantic comedies set in New York City. She was skeptical. He was skeptical. He still believed in romance. She still believed in romance. To pass the cab ride, they talked about past relationships, ended up sharing ice cream, went to a bar, acted like they had dated for years, and finally she was climbing out of the car to say goodbye. She helped him unload his suitcases and did not want to let him go. She wondered if he would kiss her or if she should go for it and he wondered if she would like to be kissed. He leaned in and she did not hesitate. There were no literal sparks, but her stomach was a fireworks display. It reminded her of the family reunion—when the boys accidently set off a wheelbarrow full of bottle rockets and almost made the local news. She told him see you later. Their little love story began in Doha, but they met in a New York City taxi. It only cost them thirty three dollars round trip, but the kiss was worth the cab fare. A day later they really said goodbye as he stayed in New York City and she traveled back to Alabama. She thought of all the corny love movies and he thought of all the corny love movies. She wanted him to chase after her taxi and he wanted to chase her. They both waved.
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Postby timberline » Mon Dec 19, 2011 10:13 am

Very nice story, Funky. Especially glad this topic is still alive and there are real people out there in Wordtrip land.
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