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Sit-In
There was a flash on the western horizon outshining the sun, like God Almighty taking one last vacation photograph before packing up and heading home. Billy Fisher didn't look up. Didn't need to. That was Greensboro, which had lasted six minutes longer than Raleigh.
Billy did look up when the diner's door creaked open, letting in the dirge of the civil defense sirens. Then he did a double-take. It was Franklin Smalls—one dark hand holding the door just above the WHITES ONLY sign, the other pushing his glasses up the bridge of his broad, flat nose. Franklin hesitated for a moment as he met Billy's stare, and then took a single step forward, smoothed down his dress shirt, and let the door swing shut behind him.
Billy leaned forward, wrinkled hands on the counter, lips curling into a sneer under his graying mustache. "My God," he said, "you got balls comin' back here."
Franklin shrugged, splaying palms to the sky, and wryly flashed too-white teeth. "Why not? We're both dead men walking. Six thousand Russian nukes in the air—that's a hundred twenty per state, and there's no way Durham's not on that list." He took languid strides up to the counter and slid onto the stool in front of Billy. "Reckon I wouldn't mind a last burger before I meet God."
"We closed with the sirens." Billy flicked his chin at the empty restaurant around them. "Git."
Franklin laughed, less humor than pain. "You think I'd be here if I had anywhere else to go?"
"Away's a place to go," Billy said—then added more softly, trying to be charitable, "You leave now, you might make it outta Durham before the bomb hits. Drive out into the woods. I hear there's some big nigger farms near Hampton."
"Don't own a car," Franklin said. "Why aren't you driving out?"
Billy stared silently into Franklin's unflinching gaze, then turned to the grill, reaching into the cooler for a hamburger patty and tossing it on. After a moment, he pulled out another for himself.
"I'm just cookin' this cause it don't matter any more," Billy said over his shoulder as the meat juices started to crackle. "I hope you ain't fixin' for an apology."
"I'm fixin' for a burger," Franklin said. "Reckon the rest is between you and Jesus, now."
Billy whirled around, pointing a finger. "And you don't think you've gotta answer to Him? All your kind's lawbreaking and riots? You don't think this is His judgment on America leavin' His word behind?"
"Course I've gotta answer to Jesus," Franklin said quietly. "And I'll tell Him, I listened when He said He watches how we treat the least among us. And I listened when America said all men are created equal. And I sat down at this counter until you called the cops on me because I believed that America could do better at both jobs."
Billy scowled. "And look where that got us."
"Fighting with each other instead of Khrushchev."
The grill hissed in concert with the muffled sirens as Billy paused to think about that. Then he reached under the counter, brought up a bottle of Tennessee whiskey, and poured two shots into water glasses, sliding one to Franklin. Franklin nodded, lifted the glass, and clinked its rim to Billy's. They drank wordlessly.
Franklin set his glass down, put his elbows on the counter, and leaned forward, head in hands. "You think the burgers are gonna be done before the end?"
"Don't reckon so," Billy said. "I'll serve 'em red, but right now they're just raw meat."
Franklin closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "At least we've got the smell."
In the corner of his eye, Billy imagined he saw a shadow flit down the street, long and thin and impossibly fast. He, too, closed his eyes and inhaled.
Billy did look up when the diner's door creaked open, letting in the dirge of the civil defense sirens. Then he did a double-take. It was Franklin Smalls—one dark hand holding the door just above the WHITES ONLY sign, the other pushing his glasses up the bridge of his broad, flat nose. Franklin hesitated for a moment as he met Billy's stare, and then took a single step forward, smoothed down his dress shirt, and let the door swing shut behind him.
Billy leaned forward, wrinkled hands on the counter, lips curling into a sneer under his graying mustache. "My God," he said, "you got balls comin' back here."
Franklin shrugged, splaying palms to the sky, and wryly flashed too-white teeth. "Why not? We're both dead men walking. Six thousand Russian nukes in the air—that's a hundred twenty per state, and there's no way Durham's not on that list." He took languid strides up to the counter and slid onto the stool in front of Billy. "Reckon I wouldn't mind a last burger before I meet God."
"We closed with the sirens." Billy flicked his chin at the empty restaurant around them. "Git."
Franklin laughed, less humor than pain. "You think I'd be here if I had anywhere else to go?"
"Away's a place to go," Billy said—then added more softly, trying to be charitable, "You leave now, you might make it outta Durham before the bomb hits. Drive out into the woods. I hear there's some big nigger farms near Hampton."
"Don't own a car," Franklin said. "Why aren't you driving out?"
Billy stared silently into Franklin's unflinching gaze, then turned to the grill, reaching into the cooler for a hamburger patty and tossing it on. After a moment, he pulled out another for himself.
"I'm just cookin' this cause it don't matter any more," Billy said over his shoulder as the meat juices started to crackle. "I hope you ain't fixin' for an apology."
"I'm fixin' for a burger," Franklin said. "Reckon the rest is between you and Jesus, now."
Billy whirled around, pointing a finger. "And you don't think you've gotta answer to Him? All your kind's lawbreaking and riots? You don't think this is His judgment on America leavin' His word behind?"
"Course I've gotta answer to Jesus," Franklin said quietly. "And I'll tell Him, I listened when He said He watches how we treat the least among us. And I listened when America said all men are created equal. And I sat down at this counter until you called the cops on me because I believed that America could do better at both jobs."
Billy scowled. "And look where that got us."
"Fighting with each other instead of Khrushchev."
The grill hissed in concert with the muffled sirens as Billy paused to think about that. Then he reached under the counter, brought up a bottle of Tennessee whiskey, and poured two shots into water glasses, sliding one to Franklin. Franklin nodded, lifted the glass, and clinked its rim to Billy's. They drank wordlessly.
Franklin set his glass down, put his elbows on the counter, and leaned forward, head in hands. "You think the burgers are gonna be done before the end?"
"Don't reckon so," Billy said. "I'll serve 'em red, but right now they're just raw meat."
Franklin closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "At least we've got the smell."
In the corner of his eye, Billy imagined he saw a shadow flit down the street, long and thin and impossibly fast. He, too, closed his eyes and inhaled.
Impending doom has a way of bringing people together, doesn't it?
I have to say, this is one of the best stories I"ve read so far. The catastrophe plays nicely as a backdrop to the conversation between the characters.
I was a bit confused at the end, when Billy mentions the shadow he believes to have seen. I'm not sure how that relates to the rest of the story, but it's a minor complaint against an otherwise great entry.
I have to say, this is one of the best stories I"ve read so far. The catastrophe plays nicely as a backdrop to the conversation between the characters.
I was a bit confused at the end, when Billy mentions the shadow he believes to have seen. I'm not sure how that relates to the rest of the story, but it's a minor complaint against an otherwise great entry.
>>ZaidValRoa I believe the shadow is being cast by a nearby explosion, hinting that they really don't have much time left.
This is a strong character piece, and it slipstreamed a large amount of information very neatly. It doesn't really make a strong point, character-wise, but it's got all the elements for it, and that's worth a lot; I just wish I had a better idea of what Billy's actions meant to himself. If that was a little clearer to me, I think I'd like this one even more.
This is a strong character piece, and it slipstreamed a large amount of information very neatly. It doesn't really make a strong point, character-wise, but it's got all the elements for it, and that's worth a lot; I just wish I had a better idea of what Billy's actions meant to himself. If that was a little clearer to me, I think I'd like this one even more.
>>Not_A_Hat Actually, I think it's meant to be the shadow of the nuke as it comes down. Their time is literally out.
The characters seemed a bit... typeset to me. The racist and the victim. It doesn't give a good reason why Franklin went there while waiting for the end. Why was the place where he was kicked out of the only place he had left? Was this really the only place he had left, or was Billy just less of a jerk to him than anyone else and he was his best option? No reason given, just... they are there. They sit together, the end comes, and it's not worth the effort fighting over anything now. Hatred doesn't mean much in the face of death. It's a very old lesson, and this is a weak iteration of it when considered thus. It was still interesting enough. If that was the prologue of a book, I would be interested enough to turn the page and keep reading.
The characters seemed a bit... typeset to me. The racist and the victim. It doesn't give a good reason why Franklin went there while waiting for the end. Why was the place where he was kicked out of the only place he had left? Was this really the only place he had left, or was Billy just less of a jerk to him than anyone else and he was his best option? No reason given, just... they are there. They sit together, the end comes, and it's not worth the effort fighting over anything now. Hatred doesn't mean much in the face of death. It's a very old lesson, and this is a weak iteration of it when considered thus. It was still interesting enough. If that was the prologue of a book, I would be interested enough to turn the page and keep reading.
Ooh, from the first two paragraphs I can tell that this is definitely going to be a good read. Nuclear apocalypse and racial prejudice? Intriguing.
The dialogue's natural and flows seamlessly, with a touch of description here and there. It kept my interest right till the end.
I'd also like to mention the ending. I guess I'm a bit biased towards implicit endings like these, but something about Billy's acceptance of what's coming fits well with the rest of the story.
Anyway, that's my two cents. I'm looking forward to seeing this in the finals. :)
The dialogue's natural and flows seamlessly, with a touch of description here and there. It kept my interest right till the end.
I'd also like to mention the ending. I guess I'm a bit biased towards implicit endings like these, but something about Billy's acceptance of what's coming fits well with the rest of the story.
Anyway, that's my two cents. I'm looking forward to seeing this in the finals. :)
Back to my slate tonight for round 2!
Now that's how to set a hook. Nice historical nod in your prompt interpretation, too, though the civil rights angle gets somewhat overshadowed by the Cold War angle here.
There are some great lines here, too (like Franklin's bit about America). Which, I think, makes it a shame that Billy doesn't get any. The story seems like it's trying very hard to humanize both its characters, to each other and to us, but as others have already suggested, Billy ended up feeling sort of cardboard-cutout racist. I mean, yes, he has that moment when he suggests Franklin should leave and try to survive, but the contrast in motives we see is pretty stark: Franklin is talking about holding America to its ideals while Billy just tries to blame everything on Franklin. That's remarkably flat and shallow given the stuff in spoilertext, and especially his charity with the whiskey. Maybe that's there to illustrate an inner conflict (or a change of heart), but it's very hard to pin down any emotional resonance from this distance. I think, as >>Not_A_Hat said, this would benefit a lot from getting inside the character's heads (or at least Billy's).
Don't get me wrong, author: I already like this. It's very atmospheric and evocative. But in the character department it's not at its full potential yet.
Tier: Solid
Now that's how to set a hook. Nice historical nod in your prompt interpretation, too, though the civil rights angle gets somewhat overshadowed by the Cold War angle here.
There are some great lines here, too (like Franklin's bit about America). Which, I think, makes it a shame that Billy doesn't get any. The story seems like it's trying very hard to humanize both its characters, to each other and to us, but as others have already suggested, Billy ended up feeling sort of cardboard-cutout racist. I mean, yes, he has that moment when he suggests Franklin should leave and try to survive, but the contrast in motives we see is pretty stark: Franklin is talking about holding America to its ideals while Billy just tries to blame everything on Franklin. That's remarkably flat and shallow given the stuff in spoilertext, and especially his charity with the whiskey. Maybe that's there to illustrate an inner conflict (or a change of heart), but it's very hard to pin down any emotional resonance from this distance. I think, as >>Not_A_Hat said, this would benefit a lot from getting inside the character's heads (or at least Billy's).
Don't get me wrong, author: I already like this. It's very atmospheric and evocative. But in the character department it's not at its full potential yet.
Tier: Solid
I'm going to be strapped for time after this evening, so I'm going to try and whip through the rest of my reviews pretty briefly.
As has already been said, this painted a lot of detail as to the world, and the people within it, with very few words, and did so evocatively and thoughtfully. I would echo the point that Billy seems little more than a foil for Franklin and his thoughts which, as a character study between two individuals, weakens the piece as a whole. But this is still going to rank highly on my ever-increasing slate. Thanks for sharing.
As has already been said, this painted a lot of detail as to the world, and the people within it, with very few words, and did so evocatively and thoughtfully. I would echo the point that Billy seems little more than a foil for Franklin and his thoughts which, as a character study between two individuals, weakens the piece as a whole. But this is still going to rank highly on my ever-increasing slate. Thanks for sharing.
Interesting take on an (not so old) American past. Atmosphere, as the others pointed out, stands out here.
There are some strange images (‘languid strides’ was one, it sounded almost oxymoronic to me) and maybe some words lost into descriptions that are secondary to the plot.
But I agree that character development is unbalanced, between the proprietor and the patron. It's hard to strike the right balance with so few words — reason why perhaps you should've been a little more skimpy on the descriptions and used the freed amount of words to develop the white guy's part.
Nothing that can't be fixed by a light edition and an further expansion.
There are some strange images (‘languid strides’ was one, it sounded almost oxymoronic to me) and maybe some words lost into descriptions that are secondary to the plot.
But I agree that character development is unbalanced, between the proprietor and the patron. It's hard to strike the right balance with so few words — reason why perhaps you should've been a little more skimpy on the descriptions and used the freed amount of words to develop the white guy's part.
Nothing that can't be fixed by a light edition and an further expansion.
"Close only counts in handgrenades and horseshoes...." and nukes.
I think decent attempt at showing something grand about the nature of humanity. Unfortunately, I had the distinct impression that the author has not been on either side of the lunch counter in question.
I say that with all humility. I am, as a white dude in his 30s that was raised in Colorado, nowhere near the civil rights activists of the 50s and 60s in the south. But... I think I can recognize like. This subject matter—racism—is very, very touchy and poignant. If you don't get it just so, it feels farcical. We (america and/or whites) did horrible thing to our minorities and outcasts during the period portrayed. As such, stories that appear to simply glaze over that or "solve" it in a short time are hard to interpret as realistic.
This story does a great job trying for that. If there was anything to ever bring about the realization that we are all equal, it would have to be a nuclear war. But it still feels... forced. I don't know how else to say it. I just don't feel there's enough shown in the story to make previously "hateful" individuals come to some sort of peace. I feel that's most likely due to the severe word limit here, but, "them's the breaks" as they say.
Overall, a great attempt in potentia, but feels like it lacks believably due to the short length.
I think decent attempt at showing something grand about the nature of humanity. Unfortunately, I had the distinct impression that the author has not been on either side of the lunch counter in question.
I say that with all humility. I am, as a white dude in his 30s that was raised in Colorado, nowhere near the civil rights activists of the 50s and 60s in the south. But... I think I can recognize like. This subject matter—racism—is very, very touchy and poignant. If you don't get it just so, it feels farcical. We (america and/or whites) did horrible thing to our minorities and outcasts during the period portrayed. As such, stories that appear to simply glaze over that or "solve" it in a short time are hard to interpret as realistic.
This story does a great job trying for that. If there was anything to ever bring about the realization that we are all equal, it would have to be a nuclear war. But it still feels... forced. I don't know how else to say it. I just don't feel there's enough shown in the story to make previously "hateful" individuals come to some sort of peace. I feel that's most likely due to the severe word limit here, but, "them's the breaks" as they say.
Overall, a great attempt in potentia, but feels like it lacks believably due to the short length.
Racism and Nuclear Apocalypse... This story has it all!
I actually really liked this one. I think it really conveyed the atmosphere... Both of the time period and the circumstances. And the way the latter makes the tensions of the former irrelevant. Definitely one of my favorites.
I actually really liked this one. I think it really conveyed the atmosphere... Both of the time period and the circumstances. And the way the latter makes the tensions of the former irrelevant. Definitely one of my favorites.
