Now, It's Your Turn...A Short Story

 

It's Time For Another Story!

Here are the rules of this little writing exercise:

1) Use the photo and the 5 words provided in your story
2) Keep your word count 500 words or less.
3) You have until next Tuesday to link up your post.
4) Add your story (Blue Link) at Leanne's or Tena's site.

5) Have fun, don’t stress, let those creative juices flow.

This picture comes from the “Back The Blue” Bash, put on by Arlington Police Foundation to support Arlington Police Officers and I want to thank Arlington PD for permission to use.

And Your 5 Words

Body

Person

Silky

Crack

Pleasure

Here's what I came up with this week!

Now, It's Your Turn

It's not everyday I think of Jim's old motorcycle, but when I see a custom bike fly by or one parked, with sun gleaming off the chrome, my mind travels back to a time when no superhero, no movie star was cooler than my big brother when he rode his bike.

When I was thirteen-years old when Jim, my elder by five years, bought a piece-of-junk bike chopper from his friend, a friend who owed him more than the old bike was worth. I remember asking him why he told that old bike and not money for a new one. Jim just laughed. "Sometime in your life, you're going to need to catch a break and you'll need someone to help you out. That's why you help people." I was still mad at him.

Jim worked hard almost everyday on his bike. It took months, but slowly the chopper took shape, first the engine was overhauled, then the rest. Jim took each piece to a shop for the custom paint job, and once painted, he placed each piece on one of my mother's white bedsheets he put on the garage floor. She was furious!

Finally the day came when every nut, every bolt, every piece fit perfectly together and Jim fired it up. I covered my ears as the roar of the engine seemed to shake the house off its foundation. He killed then engine then turned to me and said, "You wanna ride?"

"Are you serious?" I said, not quite believing his words as they filtered through my still-ringing ears. Jim just smiled. I hopped on and we were gone.

I've traveled over paved roads many times in my life, but never like that. The bike's engine hummed, its silky purr propelled us through neighborhoods, past homes and businesses, past playgrounds and schools. I wrapped by little arms around my brother's strong body and screamed at the top of my lungs, having never experienced such pleasure before (and seldom since...). I was in heaven.

Not quite a year later, we got the call. I saw the look on my mother's face turn from concern to horror as the police explained the situation. Passersby saw Jim lying in the middle of the road, not sure if it was a person or an animal. He suffered multiple broken bones, damaged both kidneys and the crack of his skull exposed part of his brain. They told us it would take a miracle for him to survive.

We rushed to the hospital and the doctor first talked to my parents, then to me. He told me Jim needed a kidney and they asked if I would be able to help. I told him I would. After some checks, they said I could donate my kidney and I did. When Jim finally woke up, he thanked me for what I did. "Now, it's your turn for a break," I said and we both cried.

Word Count:  494