Image: We Heart It
I was told his name is Sam and he "held forth" at the bar downtown every Saturday night. Other nights were random, but Saturday was a sure bet he'd be there. He's an old school story teller, a word weaver never using notes or reading from something. Regulars swear he's the real deal retelling his life story in his whiskey smoked voice. Others say he makes the stories up as he goes along depending on the crowd that's gathered.
Other advice for me was that I needed to be sure and have a drink in hand. Also, he would know if it had a shot or just something trying to look like the real thing. As a recovering alcoholic, I would be pushing it just being in a bar smelling that wonderful smokey scent of Kentucky's finest. I didn't dare order a real drink and just pretend. This whole adventure would be over before it even started with my first sip.
My boss said, "Go, listen, write."
Easier said than done. I'd also heard he could sniff out a reporter or writer the minute they put one foot into 'his' bar in downtown Lexington. Shaking my head knowing that the night was doomed before it began, I slowly went upstairs to get ready.
Standing dripping wet in my bathroom I had no idea what to wear so I wouldn't give myself away. I wanted Sam to think I was just dropping by for a drink and happened upon his little story telling session…wanting an invitation to the inner circle…the regulars who met every Saturday night to hear what Sam was going to say.
Drying my hair, I decided to go the simple sophisticated route - long dark hair in a messy French Twist, black pencil skirt, and my favorite frilly purple blouse. Black boots and tights with scaled down makeup completed the look…I hoped. Pulling on my favorite red coat, I struck out for the bar.
Getting downtown earlier than I planned, I took my time finding just the perfect place to park…not too far to walk, but not too close either. As I began walking toward the bar, there in front of me was an older distinguished man. Holding back my usual rapid pace, I observed him as he continued toward the bar.
Just as he reached the door, he turned and looked right at me.
"Come on kid," he said. "Nothing starts without me."
Holding the door open for me as a true Southern gentleman would do, I quickly met him in front of the bar.
"Hi kid, I'm Sam," he said. "It's about time you came to see me."
Copyright © 2013 Annie – Original Flash Fiction
Always…I wish you peace, joy and happiness, but most of all I wish you Love.
As Ever, Annie
This piece of fiction is a prologue to a poem I wrote a few days ago titled Amber Courage. You may read it at the following link:
http://anniesmuse.wordpress.com/2013/12/19/amber-courage/
Other advice for me was that I needed to be sure and have a drink in hand. Also, he would know if it had a shot or just something trying to look like the real thing. As a recovering alcoholic, I would be pushing it just being in a bar smelling that wonderful smokey scent of Kentucky's finest. I didn't dare order a real drink and just pretend. This whole adventure would be over before it even started with my first sip.
My boss said, "Go, listen, write."
Easier said than done. I'd also heard he could sniff out a reporter or writer the minute they put one foot into 'his' bar in downtown Lexington. Shaking my head knowing that the night was doomed before it began, I slowly went upstairs to get ready.
Standing dripping wet in my bathroom I had no idea what to wear so I wouldn't give myself away. I wanted Sam to think I was just dropping by for a drink and happened upon his little story telling session…wanting an invitation to the inner circle…the regulars who met every Saturday night to hear what Sam was going to say.
Drying my hair, I decided to go the simple sophisticated route - long dark hair in a messy French Twist, black pencil skirt, and my favorite frilly purple blouse. Black boots and tights with scaled down makeup completed the look…I hoped. Pulling on my favorite red coat, I struck out for the bar.
Getting downtown earlier than I planned, I took my time finding just the perfect place to park…not too far to walk, but not too close either. As I began walking toward the bar, there in front of me was an older distinguished man. Holding back my usual rapid pace, I observed him as he continued toward the bar.
Just as he reached the door, he turned and looked right at me.
"Come on kid," he said. "Nothing starts without me."
Holding the door open for me as a true Southern gentleman would do, I quickly met him in front of the bar.
"Hi kid, I'm Sam," he said. "It's about time you came to see me."
Copyright © 2013 Annie – Original Flash Fiction
Always…I wish you peace, joy and happiness, but most of all I wish you Love.
As Ever, Annie
This piece of fiction is a prologue to a poem I wrote a few days ago titled Amber Courage. You may read it at the following link:
http://anniesmuse.wordpress.com/2013/12/19/amber-courage/
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