Welcome to the New Benicia Ferry!
Yes, the New Benicia Ferry is full of information about community services and activities that you can engage with, but it’s also where you can find intriguing made up stories about the wild array of characters who make up our town. This is what the Main Street diaries flash Fiction Contest is all about. check out the menu tab above for more details on how to enter.
Here’s a favorite flash fiction story submission based on the prompts: Benicia, five hundred dollars, Main Street, and rain.
Hablar con un Abogado
By Michael Caleb Lester
It IS STUPID TO MEET IN BENICIA. Why not Vallejo, where we both live? All that crank, the jerk is paranoid. But there he is, on a park bench on the waterfront, pretending not to know me but, as soon as I sit down, he gets up, leaves an envelope on the bench and disappears. He’s so lame, I’m surprised he didn’t put my name on the envelope.
Inside are five Ben Franklins. The stash was worth more, but a deal is a deal. Take what you get. At the end of the day, the day ends.
I slip the envelope into a back pocket. It’s been raining and I don’t want those C-notes getting wet. But I miss my pocket and the envelope falls onto the wet sidewalk. I don’t know it. I’m walking back to my car.
NECESITO HABLAR CON UN ABOGADO. Todo el mundo me lo dice. pasaporte no es suficiente. Necesito documentación, pero me da miedo ir al juzgado o al ICE. Le pido ayuda a Dios y entonces veo el sobre. Lo cojo y miro dentro. Dios mío, es dinero caído del cielo, suficiente para hablar con un abogado. Miro a mi alrededor. Es Benicia. No hay nadie cerca. Gracias, Dios, oh gracias. [I need to speak with a lawyer. Everyone tells me this. My passport is insufficient. I need documentation but I fear going to the courthouse or to ICE. I pray to God for help and then I see the envelope. I pick it up and look inside. My god, it is money from heaven, enough to speak to a lawyer. I look around. It is Benicia. No one is nearby. Thank you, god, oh thank you.]
I OPEN THE CAR DOOR, get out my keys and reach for the envelope. It’s not there. Damn. Must have fallen out. I walk back to the bench by the water and see this spic girl on her knees like she’s praying. She’s got my envelope. I try to grab it but the dumb broad is squeezing it like she’s trying to choke it or something. I grab the envelope with one hand and slap her, hard, with the other. She slams against the pavement, but she won’t let go. I shout, “Give me the money!”
¿ES SU DINERO? ¿Por qué me hace daño? Es un regalo de Dios. Es para mí, no para este hombre cruel. Quiero gritar pidiendo ayuda, pero tengo miedo de que venga la policía, de que venga el ICE, de que me traten como a una delincuente. Debería huir. [Is it his money? Why is he hurting me? This is a gift from God. It is for me, not for this mean man. I want to shout for help, but I am afraid the police will come, ICE will come, people will treat me like a criminal. I should run away.]
THERE IS NO ONE AROUND and the stupid girl is just lying there. I stomp on the pavement next to the hand holding the dough. She knows what’s coming next, and that does it. I grab the envelope. Blood is dripping from her nose into a rain puddle on the sidewalk. Serves her right. It’s my money. Who is this guy?
ON MY EVENING STROLL, I turn the corner and see this thug kicking a poor young woman crawling on the sidewalk. I rush over and knock him down, his face scraping the sidewalk. I put my knee on his back. I take off my belt and tie his hands. I tell him, “You’re going to need a speak with a lawyer.”
Okay, that’s a sample of what’s to come with the Main Street Diaries. sharpen your pencil or stretch your fingers and get ready to send us your own Benicia stories. Click on the Main Street Diaries menu tab above for more information.