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Posts Tagged ‘writing from a prompt’

january-snowfall-nighttime

photo by Sarah Potter

Susie headed toward the door. She had allowed just the right time to run across the street and through the yards five blocks down to her house. She would climb up the tree and into her bedroom window with just enough time to get into her nightgown before her mother came in to wake her. Susie always had perfect timing.

Opening the door of her boyfriend’s apartment building, Susie couldn’t believe her eyes! It couldn’t be. It hadn’t been in the forecast. Now her secret outings would be uncovered.

If the snow didn’t, her mother was going to kill her!

100 Words, Fiction

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#FridayFictioneers is a weekly blog link-up hosted by Rochelle and dedicated to 100 word stories to go along with a photo prompt. Check it out and give it a try!

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This story, fiction at that, is a result of the one word prompt found at oneword.com.

I couldn’t believe it. What had been a well planned getaway had turned into a nightmare. First i had not been able to sleep the night before my trip then, sleep deprived as I was, I stopped for coffee and as I took my first sip, I scalded my mouth and it blistered right away. I ended up having to spit the hot coffee all over myself. Then I jumped on the freeway only to find that there was an accident and then I got a flat tire. No way! I had just had them checked a few days before but sure enough, it was flat. I had to wait  auto club to come rescue me and by then it had started to rain and the traffic was all backed up.

When the tow arrived, they couldn’t change the tire because the spare tire I had wasn’t good enough so they ended up having to tow my car into the tire shop and I had to buy a new tire. Just what I didn’t need as my funds were quite low!

Once the tire was fixed I ended back on the freeway behind that accident. I found an alternate route, courtesy of my cell phone’s GPS, only to discover five minutes late that it was not an acceptable alternate route.

By the time I got it all sorted out, I had to deal with a torrential downpour and a multitude of accidents caused primarily by the bad weather.

When it was all over, I just wanted to go back  home. Forget about that condo at the beach which I was supposed to stay at. Forget the beautiful sunsets over the Pacific Ocean that I would be missing. Forget the delicious Margaritas at Don Francisco’s where I had planned to enjoy my favorite beverage with an order of pollo en mole. I just wanted to go home.

So much for that careful planning.


Oneword.com gives you a single word as a writing prompt and then they time you to sixty minutes. What you put into it is what you get out. Give it a try!

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This was originally published on this blog on October 2, 2015 as part of Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers (100 word fiction). Today I republish it as part of the Throwback Thursday Link Party in which participants re-post something that was originally posted a minimum of thirty days prior.

She did it right there.

For several years she had been emailing an old beau from a previous lifetime. He had found her at a moment when she was feeling alone, unwanted. The email subject from the strange address read “Is that you?”

It was. That was the start. That relationship had made her smile and feel wanted. For years.

It took a long time and a lot of excuses but she finally realized this was no relationship. So, right there, in the middle of the library, she clicked on “Delete Forever”. The entire “relationship” was gone.

Word Count: 100

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Originally published on this blog on October 17, 2007, this is my post for the first #ThrowbackThursday Link Party which asks bloggers to post a blog post that is more than 30 days old. Go check it out!

When I was a little girl, my mother would take us to all the parades in town.  My mom didn’t drive so we’d all walk together, all seven of us kids and our mom.  Downtown was about two miles away but we didn’t mind because we all loved parades.  Sometimes there were programs at the civic auditorium after the parade.  Those programs were always even more fun than the parades plus we’d get to sit down instead of having to stand up out in the cold.

One of my favorites was the Christmas parade.  It was the longest and the most fun and Santa Claus always gave out candy at the end of the parade.  After the parade, my family would go to the civic auditorium for the show they always put on after the parade.  There was music and little skits and at the end we got presents.  My mom would get tickets for the show and the presents ahead of time.  My dad didn’t make a lot of money working at the cannery and there were nine of us so we got to be one of the families that got to go to the special program and get the presents.

What was it about parades that made me eager to go?  I think it was mostly because it seemed to me that everyone was happy at the parades and I liked to be around happy people.  There were clowns, too.  I loved clowns and balloons and crowds.  Sometimes, if my mom had extra money, we might get a treat to share.  Usually, if we did get a treat, it was popcorn or caramel corn.  She’d get two of whatever she could afford and we’d all share.

Another thing I liked about parades was the music.  I loved to hear the bands coming down the street and leaving, going away from us.  But the one thing I didn’t like about parades was also the music.  When the bands were right in front of us, the big round drums that the boys carried in front of them, hanging from their backs, those drums made loud booming sounds and when they boomed, the boom was in my stomach.  It made me feel like my stomach was the drum and someone was beating on my stomach.  It made me want to cry.  I remember I’d try to hide behind my mother when the drums got close enough for my stomach to boom.  My sisters would cover their ears but that wouldn’t help me.  It wasn’t my ears that were booming.  I couldn’t explain to my mother why I didn’t like it when the bands got right in front of us.  She couldn’t understand why covering my ears didn’t make me feel better.

I wish there were still parades in towns where everyone could go and see each other and eat popcorn and caramel corn and watch the bands go by and the clowns and balloons.  If there were, I could just walk toward the back of the crowds when those great big booms came to my stomach.  That just might help enough.

tbt-option-2

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Three days passed before they found the body.

It had been a crazy night. What was supposed to be a fun night with my brothers and sisters had turned into a night of bringing up old wrongs and old hurts. Before anyone knew it, there had been too much drinking and too many accusations. Meg couldn’t figure out how things had gone wrong. She tried to salvage the evening by changing the subject to happier times. She thought that would make a difference and bring them all together again but it didn’t.

Meg’s sister brought up the year that the two of them had each gotten a Chatty Cathy doll. Meg’s had been a brunette with a blue dress and her sister had wanted it because her blonde doll with the pink dress didn’t look like her. She wanted a doll with brown hair and brown eyes, like she had but she was only five and didn’t know how to say wht she wanted so she was stuck with the doll. She didn’t like it and had left it in the box and had not played with it. Two weeks went by and Meg’s doll already had smudges on her face and a tiny rip in the back of the dress because she took the doll everywhere with her. She slept with it, ate with it, took it in the car and was never seen without it until one day when Meg woke up and Chatty Cathy was gone. She looked all over for it until she began to cry. Their mother helped her look and soon, the whole family was looking for Chatty Cathy. It was gone. Just gone.

Three days later, when they were walking back home from the park around the corner, Meg saw her doll. It was in one of the trash cans that were sitting at the curb waitng to be picked up. The eyes had been punched back into the head and there was red marker all over her arms and face. Chatty Cathy’s dress had been ripped to shreds. Meg started crying when she saw her treasured doll. She pulled her doll out of the neighbor’s trash can and cradled her in her arms as they walked home, tears flooding out of her eyes. Her sister put her arm around Meg’s shoulder and told her she could have her blonde Chatty Cathy. Meg thought it was so nice of her sister. She didn’t see the smug look on her sister’s face.

 

 

 

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Note: I know it’s not Friday but Rochelle posts the photo prompt on Wednesday to give people a chance to come up with a story. I’m posting this today because it’s 3:30 in the morning and I haven’t had a chance to write the post I was going to publish today. And I figured it would be good to have a break in the relatively “heavy” subject about which I’ve been posting.dale-rogerson

It started with a broken pipe; and ended with a broken marriage.

I waited for the plumber, hoping for a quick fix. It turned out that the plumber was not only very professional, he was kind, compassionate, and sensitive. I saw it in the way he interacted with the kids. There was more though; it was a feeling.  The way he spoke to me. The way he looked at me: understanding and knowing.

It was then that I realized what was lacking in my marriage; what I had settled for.

Then it was over.

A new start was in sight.

Word Count: 100

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Friday Fictioneers is a weekly blog hop hosted by Rochelle. She posts a photo and invites her readers to write a complete story using exactly 100 words. No more. No less. It’s fun. It’s challenging. Give it a try!

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copyright-ron-pruitt

I was happy for her. I was also sad that she was leaving but I knew that she was headed for new things, new places, new people. A fresh start. How many times had I wished that I could get a new start, only to continue the same daily struggles? No, not her. Not my girl. I prayed she would never live a life like mine where she was my only happiness. She was headed for college; a bright future. I was sure of that. Even the heavens were smiling on her as she boarded that bus bound for Happiness!

Word Count: 100

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Friday Fictioneers is a weekly blog hop hosted by Rochelle. She posts a photo prompt then challenges readers to write a 100 word story inspired by the prompt. It’s a fun challenge. Give it a try! Check here for the info then write your story and post it, link up and enjoy the other stories!

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