I completed a course on clear writing with Amit Varma, one of my favorite podcasters. As part of an assignment during the course, I wrote a short story based on an interesting prompt:

Pick up the nearest book of fiction.
Go to page 124.
Read the fourth complete sentence on that page.
Make that the first line of your story.

My sentence prompt was from The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck:

“‘Course I dunno. But seems to me I heard they’s hills an’ even mountains. Big ones.”

I tried to preserve the accent from the sentence in my story (and it was quite the challenge). Here’s my attempt!

Charlie and the Lottery Ticket

"‘Course I dunno. But seems to me I heard they’s hills an’ even mountains. Big ones." Ramsey replied drinking from a bottle covered in wet brown paper. Gracie yelled “Oh lord, how do a man not know where his own daughter live?”

A single bulb was flickering, struggling to light the two person trailer. The carpet, covered in dog hair. The air smelt of burned coffee, the lack of ventilation did not help.

Gracie Sykes, Ramsey’s niece, stood cross armed. The clothes line hid her less than pleasing double-chin, only showing the top part of her face. Ramsey did not get up from his chair. He only grimaced at her.

“Mammy didn’t tell me nothin’ about where she went. I saw beeg snow mountains in the picture she sent for Christmas. And that is all I know, I’m sayin’". Ramsey yelled back exasperated.

The three of them, and Charlie, Ramsey’s dog, cramped together in the trailer for three years. Mammy bagged groceries at the local convenience store. Gracie moved in with them after her mother passed away. G-z was her street name that she used when she dealt drugs to kids at the local high school. Ramsey spent his time with his barbershop brethren discussing the war in ‘Nam, and the good ole days.

“Well, you better damn find out.” Gracie said, sifting through the half empty cigarette packs in her bag. She found the crumpled piece of the lottery ticket she was looking for.
“Coz they ain’t gonna give us our dough without her part of the lottery ticket”.

The Minnesota raffle was their yearly ritual. Every October, Gracie would buy one ticket to the raffle and tear it into three pieces. They would then proceed to get drunk, discussing what they would do with the money if they won the lottery.

“I’mma start a restaurant”. Mammy would say.
“And then one day, the president gon come eat my ribs”.
“He gon ask, who made this?".
“I’mma walk through the door, say “me, Mr. president”.
“He gon make me the white house cook, baby!”

Ramsey and Gracie shook with laughter.

“Vegas is where I’mma be, start my own casino with that dough”. Gracie would say. “Get meself one of ‘em shiny yellow suits and walk my ass around the casino mindin’ everybody’s business-es".

Ramsey didn’t care about the money. He was more interested in the alcohol.

Gracie went straight for the kitchen counter. She dumped the trash bag on the stove top. The February gas bill covered in coffee stains lay there at the summit of the heap. At the bottom was the Christmas postcard Mammy sent. It was a picture of Mammy in front of a Scotty’s ski resort in Boulder, Colorado. Somewhere in the middle of the heap was Ramsey’s crumbled piece of the lottery ticket.

“You sayin’ this won?". Gracie nodded. “No Shit” Ramsey sighed.

“How ya been papa?” Gracie asked. They settled themselves outside the trailer under the streetlight.
“Whatdoya care about me?” Ramsey replied back slouching into his patio chair.
“Ah come on now, don’t be that way, I was young. I didn’t know better.”
“Where’s Timmy?” Ramsey was referring to Gracie’s then boyfriend Timmy Latham, who she ran away with.
“The hell do I know, we broke up six months ago.”

“You miss her?” Gracie asked. Mammy left a week after Gracie, without leaving a note. “The hale I do.” Ramsey replied looking away.

“I’m leaving in the mornin’ to find her in that Scotty’s ski place. Come with me?” Gracie asked Ramsey, as she patted Charlie on the head.
“Ah fine, I’ll come” Ramsey replied, dragging his feet on the road.

Mammy rolled the cleaning cart down the empty hallway. The Belsons were checking out. The last visitors for this season. She fidgeted the vaccum as she cleaned the paint crumbs chipped from dragging skis along the walls. The resort was closing for the season.

After her shift ended, Mammy shared a smoke with Sally, her co-worker.
“You know where yo gonna go, hon?” Sally asked.
Mammy shrugged her shoulders.
“What about yo daddy, you said he around?” Sally asked.
“Go back to that drunk ass of my dad? No thanks.”
“You know you can come home with me” Sally offered as she opened the door to their shared room in the workers quarters.
“I’ll think about it.” Mammy replied looking away.

Mammy put up posters of Iron Maiden that she bought at a yard sale on the wall over her bed. She hung the trinkets her mom made for her as a kid on the sides of her metal cot. She kept her three pairs of uniform neatly pressed in a dresser she picked up from the dumpster. She finally got the bedroom she wanted. A few years late.

Mammy gave Ramsey a cold look when she spotted him in the resort lobby. “What the damn hale are you doin’ here?” Mammy asked Ramsey flinching. Ramsey’s shoulders slumped as he looked at her with teary eyes.

“Baby girl, don’t be like that with yo old man”. He tried embracing Mammy but she veered away. “I missed you, Mammy”. Ramsey began shaking.

“We rich now Cuz!” Gracie yelled. Mammy gave her a cold look, shoulders crossed. She never forgave Gracie for leaving her alone when she ran away.

“What now?” Mammy asked her. This wasn’t the first get-rich-quick scheme Gracie brought to her. “The lottery ticket we bought in Pappy’s won! You got yo part of the ticket right, Cuz?” Gracie asked nodding her head in anticipation.

Mammy turned away to look at Ramsey. Her eyes began to tear up. Ramsey knew he should have written back. Her heart was pounding, Ramsey could hear it. Mammy threw her shoulders over Ramsey as he began sobbing.

Gracie tapped Mammy on the shoulders. “Cuz?”

Mammy sucked snot back into her sinuses. Her face was trembling.

“Cha….Charlie” Mammy stuttered. “Ya what about our boy Charlie?” Gracie asked biting her lips.

“That damn dog ate my lottery ticket”.