Hump Day Kick Start – Runway Edition

Hump Day Kick Start – for your muse, a writing picture prompt, or just a visual treat.

trip

I found this pic intriguing. Maybe you will, too.

Who is our prompt? Is she a high-fashion model? A drug runner? Undercover law enforcement? A travel agent? A crazy loon who lost her way in the airport terminal? Does she know who’s flying the plane? A lover? Her boss? Both?  Is she coming? Going? In danger? Running from something or someone? Rendezvousing with someone special? What if she were playing chicken with the plane?

I noticed she’s walking on a crack. Could that be symbolism?

Give it a whirl. Let me hear your take.

16 Responses to Hump Day Kick Start – Runway Edition

  1. Will Graham says:

    “Store’s out of my Black and White Cookies *again*. I called William, he’s about to land, and we’re gonna straighten THIS nonsense out once and for all and you *better* believe that!”

  2. jbrayweber says:

    She’s a monster over those cookies! Will to the rescue!

  3. Marie says:

    Oh, thank the Lord. I knew Bobby Joe wouldn’t let me down. He promised he would come to get me after the crop dusting job and there he is. Lordy. I love my Bobby Joe.
    But it’s time to go. The call from American Idol has turned my life around. I’ll go and make my Momma proud. She told me I could do it. I could leave Kansas, go to Hollywood and become a star.
    Bobby Joe is going to miss me. I am gonna miss Bobby Joe.
    But I gotta try. I have to show the world that I can I can become the next American Idol.
    Here I come Hollywood.

  4. jbrayweber says:

    LOL! That was great, Marie! Poor Bobby Joe!

  5. Ruth kenjura says:

    Ok- so this is my story-

    He was late as usual. Hel pulled her luggage behind her as she walked toward the small private plane. The case contained all the necessities for her trip- three hand guns, clips, one small automatic weapon, twelve knives in various sizes, a syringe with an injectable homing device, and several other explosive devices, as well as three satellite phones she could hide in strategic places. She followed the Boy Scout motto—always be prepared.
    The mission was supposed to be a quick in and out- rescue the girl, kill the slime and then home again. She never believed Dante when he told her it was an easy mission. Normally she wouldn’t care, but she was on leave of absence, damn it. Her sister was in a coma and had been for the past month. She’d taken the leave to be there for her sister and to find and gut the bastard that did this to her, but the leads were few and far between. Maybe this quick mission would help her refocus or at the very least- release all her pent up frustration and anger.

  6. jbrayweber says:

    Hoo Boy! Love this, Ruth! Totally out of the box. Awesome! This would be a great start to a kick ass story.

  7. pibarrington says:

    That was one hell of a landing. Maybe I should have waited for the plane to touch down rather than leaping out wearing my heels and ending up on my ass. But time is a precious commodity and I knew there would be more than one rough landing when I accepted this job. At least I didn’t have to drag my tools through some airport checkpoint and try to evade being caught with murder on my mind. I keep telling myself that this isn’t my profession, that I don’t do this for a living. But the truth is I love it. I love the money, the action and the sense of achievement whenever I put someone down who needs it. Anybody else who goes down is just collateral damage. I dyed my hair for this one and like the new color a lot. Trivial but I need something to think about treading along the cracked tarmac of this non-descript tiny airport while planning out my next kill. The heels? They’re my one obsession and I’ll wear them till I’m the one down at last and I’ve left instructions to be buried with them on my feet like the cowboys in Tombstone were buried in their boots. Perhaps I’ll add a clause to go six feet under with my Dolce and Gabbana bag in my hands. I glance down at the crack that seems to be growing wider and deeper as I walk and wonder if the bastards I kill ever feel like they’re being sucked down into hell through a monster crack in the ground. Why the hell should I care? I ask myself, still watching the crack. They go where the hell they go and all I should care about is that they’re gone from Earth. I shake myself down and walk into the airport “lobby” where the crack ends at the threshold. I briefly wonder if the crack continues all the way under the building then stop. Again, what do I care and what the hell is making me suddenly wax philosophical? After another small shakedown I open the door and walk to the counter.
    Blue eyes, the palest I’ve ever seen stand out like jewels against the dusky skin and black hair, making me catch my breath. He smiles white teeth shocking me and I have to swallow my physical response to him.
    “Uh…I…need a…” Even blinking doesn’t rid my brain of his image. “A, uh…”
    “Plane ticket?” He offers still smiling but now amusement twitches the edge of his lip.
    “Uh…no…not that. A…taxi. Yes, that’s what I need, a taxi out of here.”
    “Running from the law?”
    “Not exactly,” I finally control myself and give him a suggestive smirk.
    “You should be.”
    My smile evaporates and suspicion narrows my eyes. I don’t respond.
    “I mean, it’s illegal to look as good you,”
    “Oh,” I breathe out relief. “I didn’t realize you were joking.”
    “I’m not.” This time he gives me a suggestive smirk. We’ll have to work this out later I tell him mentally and make a note to my own brain to follow up on this.
    “About the taxi,” I prompt, unable to stop staring at those eyes. “I need one fast.”
    “Sure,” he shrugs winking at me.
    If this doesn’t stop soon pal, I’ll need more than a taxi ride. I know he knows what I’m thinking and I give him one last smirk.
    “Just make it fast,” I say.
    He opens his mouth to reply but clamps it shut again, thinking better of what he was going to say. Now I wish I knew what he was thinking.

    Gots to go take my meds so I couldn’t think up another place to stop. This may be the intro to a new book idea I have.

    Patti

  8. jbrayweber says:

    This absolutely could be the beginning of a new book, Patti. Make it happen!

  9. Sarah Andre says:

    Be back with a gooey Valentine story. 😉

  10. jeff7salter says:

    I’ll be back later — can’t concentrate with the radio in the other room

  11. pibarrington says:

    Waiting with bated breath for you two!

  12. jeff7salter says:

    Okay, here’s Pricilla’s story.
    Prissy began the day in a horrid mood. Leave it to everybody to forget her 21st birthday. And leave it to Norman to cancel out on her birthday trip at the last minute. Who wants to go o a cruise to Cancun alone?
    Well, at this point Prissy does.
    Left high and dry at the airport, with just the single bag and a nasty attitude, Prissy counted her resources. If she cashed in both her expensive cruise and airline ticket (and the one she’d been holding for Norman), she’d have enough for a “puddle jumper” fight to the Yucatan … plus about $1300 to spend while she was there.
    That would give her nearly a week on the peninsula instead of “cruising” with 4000 strangers on the boat.
    Something else about that week in the Yucatan — “Remember that exchange student — Alexandro — from your final semester at college? Remember what he said that night we were up on the levee til dawn? Remember his embrace and his kisses, and his promise that if I were ever down his way to look him up?”
    She patted the address book in her hip pocket.
    “Well, I just got a new letter last week from Alexandro….and now I’ll get to see where he mailed it from.”

  13. jbrayweber says:

    Prissy, huh, Jeff? I’m willing to bet she’ll do just fine on her birthday. 😉

  14. jeff7salter says:

    plus, she has a whole week to work it out

  15. Sarah Andre says:

    All he meant to do…and all he’d been paid to do was fly supermodel, Jenna Carrington to a remote landing strip on one of the British Virgin Islands.

    What actually happened is Johnny Preston fell head over heels. Oh, he’d seen her barely-there photos in the February Sports Illustrated swimsuit additions and the Victoria Secret Angels fashion show on TV, but nothing prepared him for the jaw dropping beauty of Jenna in person.

    Figuring they had nothing in common and that she would never stoop to speak to an average looking schmoe who flew a prop plane named Bessie, he merely tipped his Red Sox baseball cap before assisting her into the passenger seat.

    He got Bessie airborne and glanced surreptitiously at Jenna over and over. The scenery never changed. A spectacular lottery winner of perfect physical DNA sat frowning and texting on her cellphone. A beautiful woman like that should never have cause to look so upset. He cleared his throat to remind her of his existence and asked if anything was the matter.

    Much to his surprise she erupted in sobs. Having four older sisters he knew enough to hand her the tissue box from behind her seat and then keep his mouth shut while she blurted her woes. A shipping tycoon had asked for her hand and everyone: from family, friends and work associates thought she was an idiot to even hesitate. But hesitate she had–asking him for one week to think about it. The week was up and she was on her way to meet him at one of his compounds.

    Johnny didn’t speak his thoughts aloud, but if you needed a week to decide, you probably have should said no immediately and saved yourself 6 more days of anxiety. But his four older sisters had trained him well, so he asked her to list the good points and bad points of marrying the guy. Extreme wealth, being the wife of someone so powerful and a biological ticking clock were the pluses. The negatives were his subtle signs of cruelty- oh not to her- but to his house staff, employees and a stable of horses. He was also 20 years older and had four ex-wives.

    Frankly, Johnny thought the guy sounded like a douche and none of the positives were important enough to put up with those negatives. But shut-it-and-listen were valuable sisterly lessons. Even when Jenna repeated over and over “I just wish I knew what to do. I wish I knew what I wanted.” He knew exactly what she should do. Say no to the asshat-billionaire. Take a chance and date a schmoe who owned a beat up prop plane and would worship her on a pedestal the rest of her life. Yeah right! So he just nodded like a bobble-head and handed her more tissues.

    The trip ended all too soon and she fixed her makeup as he collected her heavy roller bag. If she was going to say no to the shipping tycoon she wouldn’t have brought this much luggage. He handed it to her and wished her well.

    As he turned to climb back in the plane, she touched his arm and asked his name. “Johnny,” he said. “And this here is Bessie.” He handed over one of his business cards. He didn’t know why, maybe so she knew she had one friend in the world who didn’t pressure her to marry the SOB for all the wrong reasons. He told her to text if she ever needed anything, but that he had to get ole’ Bessie over to Florida to pick up some supplies for a humanitarian mission in hurricane-ravaged Bermuda. At her raised eyebrows he explained further: on his downtime he flew personnel or equipment for Doctors Without Borders or shuttled sick kids to their fantasy destination in the Make a Wish Foundation.

    Jenna looked at him strangely, but said nothing. They shared an awkward wave and a ‘nice meeting you’ from her and a ‘good luck with everything’ from him. He waited, with a heavy heart for the future that awaited her, until she was in the island terminal before starting Bessie up and easing her to the end of the runway. As he gained speed for liftoff he thought about her sad, striking face and shook his head. Funny how pretty girls made the all wrong choices for the all wrong reasons.

    Just as he lifted off two things happened simultaneously. His cellphone vibrated a text and he saw Jenna walking straight at him in the middle of the runway. He lifted Bessie up, tilting her wing as he grabbed his phone and looked at the text.

    “You and Bessie and humanitarian missions. That’s what I want. Rescue me.”

  16. jbrayweber says:

    LOVE this! This sounds like it could be a movie, Sarah. At the very least, a novella. Get after it, girl!

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