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Posts Tagged ‘writing from a prompt’

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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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© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Some vacation!  Others go south to warm, sunny places..They go back to school with pictures and post cards; souvenirs and stories of the places they visited. Suntans. Sunburns. They might even go back to school with new romantic interests. Others have adventures on their vacation.

Me? I went north. I get to sit in a motel, watch the rain, and wait for you to come see me.  That’s what I get on my vacation: minutes with you; a view of the parking lot; rain. It’s my fault. I’m the one that settled for the stolen moments, tucked away like this.

Word count: 100

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This is in response to Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneer photo prompt. Each week she posts a photo prompt and challenges her readers to write a 100 word story.  It’s fun!  Give it a try!  Go here to get the rules and link your 100 word response.  

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PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

I stood watching the tall swings going round and round.   I just watched. White knuckles.  Heart racing. Panic. I just watched.

“Employees ride for free!  Just show your ID!”  I knew it was a free ride.  I had been on every ride in the park but that one.

When I was 10, I had been in line to ride such a thing, then it broke.  Utter chaos followed.  Screaming, crying, things falling from the sky.  Sirens.  It had taken me a long time to return to a carnival, longer to get on a ride.  This one was not going to happen.

Word count: 100

This post is part of Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneer blog hop.  Each week she gives a photo prompt and challenges readers to respond to the prompt in 100 words.  Give it a try.  It’s fun!  You can find Rochelle’s post here.

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1966 was an interesting year for me. I was in fourth grade and not the most popular person at the school.  We had just moved to that neighborhood during Spring break.  On my first day of school, I was walked to my classroom which was empty and told that my class was on a field trip that day so I would have to spend the school day in another fourth grade class. I did and when school was out, I still hadn’t met my teacher or any of my new classmates because the field trip was an out of town one so the bus wouldn’t be back until later.  Not only did I not get to meet my class and teacher, but I had to go through the “first day” twice.  And to top it off, I missed a field trip to one of the California missions.

I had left a school where I had a lot of friends and good teachers so to come into a school where I had no friends and no history with any of the teachers was frustrating.  It stayed that way for the rest of the year and then through sixth grade.  I never made many friends.  I was the odd one out.  I knew a few people but they were in other classes and they didn’t play with me or hang out with me at school.  My older sister’s friends accepted me so I knew them but they weren’t in my class either.

I’m pretty sure the girls in my class didn’t want to hang out with me because something horrible happened.  It was about a month after I started attending that school. I was sitting in class and when I got up to go to recess, I felt the back of my dress stick to me.  I pulled it away then I felt it was wet.  I didn’t know what it was.  I knew I had not wet myself.  So I stood against the wall all during recess.  The rest of the day went on like normal, but I was aware of everyone staring at me. Even my teacher stared but she didn’t say anything.  I went up to the board during math to solve a problem.  No one said a word to me about my dress. Then it was time to go home and I walked home.  When I arrived home, I went into the bathroom and realized that the wetness I had felt was blood.  I didn’t know what was going on.  No one had told me anything to let me know that at some point I would bleed.  After that day, I wore my heavy coat in class all day.  I even wore it during P.E. to run around and to play ball in. I wore it every day left in fourth grade and every day in fifth grade until we saw the movie that explained what was going on. Then I knew to count the day.

To this day I cannot get over the fact that the teacher said not one word about it.  Not that day.  Not on any other days after it happened.

Inspired by a prompt in The Daily Post: Dig through your couch cushions, your purse, or the floor of your car and look at the year printed on the first coin you find. What were you doing that year?

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© Marie Gail Stratford

© Marie Gail Stratford

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

Thank you to Rochelle for the photo prompt at her weekly Friday Fictioneers post. She gives a photo and challenges readers to come up with a 100 word story to match the photo.  Give it a try.  It’s fun!  

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PHOTO PROMPT © THE RECLINING GENTLEMAN

PHOTO PROMPT © THE RECLINING GENTLEMAN

I’m So Tired

100 Word Fiction

I’m so tired. I know I should stop but I have to get there. I can’t believe it. When the phone rang at 11 last night, I knew it could be bad news. Yet I answered it. I should have let it ring. Some things can’t be put off. I’m so tired. I have to stop. My eyes won’t focus anymore. It’s 6 in the morning. Others will be on the road soon. I have to stop or there will be two coffins, not one. I expected it to be him, not her. Okay, I see that…Rest Area 1 Mile.

THIS FLASH FICTION PIECE IS IN RESPONSE TO ROCHELLE’S FRIDAY FICTIONEERS PHOTO PROMPT.

There’s an Inlinkz thingy to add your Friday Fictioneers post that you can get at Rochelle’s site.  I couldn’t figure out how to add it to my post, though!

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This originally appeared in February of 2008 in response to a weekly meme I used to participate in, 3 Word Wednesday, in which we were given 3 random words and had to write a story with them.  A bit long but I think it’s kind of fun.  The 3 words were t-shirt, unravel, and punch. See what you think…

I walked into the house and without looking at her face, I knew Karen was staring at the Slayer t-shirt I was wearing and wondering what the hell got into me. She knew I would never buy a shirt like that. And the micro mini-skirt I was wearing was totally not like anything I would ever wear. At least not in this century. I could feel her staring at me but I wasn’t going to explain. Karen wouldn’t understand. I made a beeline for my bedroom, pulled out some clothes and walked to the bathroom to shower. I had to get that clothes off of me.

I locked the bathroom door behind me and as I reached for the faucet, I heard Karen on the other side of the door. “Hey Mom. So what’s with the clothes? It’s a little early for Halloween!” I could hear her giggling.

Rolling my eyes, I couldn’t quite decide if I would acknowledge the question, let alone answer her.

“Go away. I’m taking a shower.” On came the water before Karen could even giggle.

I let the white Slayer t-shirt drop to the floor at my feet along with the micro mini skirt, the black bra and panties I had borrowed. I never wore a black bra with a white t-shirt but Sherry had only offered the black one so I had no choice. Well, I did. I could come home wearing no bra but that would be worse than having my teen daughter tease me about the clothes I waswearing.

As the steam began to fill the small bathroom, I relaxed against the cold shower tiles, closing my eyes. How did all that mess happen? It had started out so well. Just the two of us. Nancy and I were going to have a nice dinner, go to a movie, and then go for drinks. This was the one night a month we allowed ourselves to have fun. Single moms have it hard. We’re all alone. There is no one to help with the daily stress of raising a teenager. No one to help with the housework or paying bills or mowing the lawn. It is all on our shoulders. We never get to go anyplace to unwind. So Nancy and I go out once a month just to unwind. When we did, our kids were sworn to a quiet evening at home. We would spring for movie rentals, soda, and junk food and they would swear to stay home and keep out of trouble.

That didn’t happen tonight. Instead, after the movie when we both reached into our purses to turn on our phones, Nancy’s phone beeped repeatedly, letting her know she had a missed call and maybe a voice mail. She listened to the voice mail as we walked to her car. We were supposed to meet some of the others from work at Hank’s for a late, unofficial “happy hour” as we sometimes did. I heard her gasp. “Oh no! This can’t be happening!” Jumping into the car with the phone glued to her ear Nancy said we had to go straight home. There was trouble. The neighbor had called.

When we got to Nancy’s house, we couldn’t find a parking space. The street and driveway were lined with cars. Music was blasting and teenagers were all over. Nancy pulled her car onto the lawn, causing a dozen inebriated teenagers to scatter. Inside the house, we found kids packing every room, the staircase, and the kitchen. There wasn’t even standing room. While we looked for her daughter, Sherry, a very drunk young lady bumped into me and spilled her “potent punch” all over my white ruffled tuxedo shirt. Just what I needed. This was the first time I had worn the shirt and the girl didn’t even excuse herself. She just continued to bump into everything and everyone in her path.

Finally, Nancy and I restored order, got rid of most of the sober teenagers and contacted the parents of the drunken ones to come retrieve their youngsters. Sherry had been locked in her room, afraid to come out and face her friends and all the people she didn’t know. She explained that she had only invited four girls but they had each text messaged their friends and soon their friends had text messaged their friends and before they knew it, there were dozens of teenagers eager to have a good time without adults. Her daughter hadn’t been able to get rid of them. She had called the neighbor and asked for help. The neighbor had tried to break it up but his efforts had all been futile so he had called Nancy.

When everyone left, Nancy and I started to throw out the trash and straighten up. Nancy told Sherry that the clean up was her responsibility but some of the cleanup had to be started tonight. On my hands and knees, picking up some of the larger pieces of trash before running the vacuum cleaner, I snagged my skirt on a piece of broken glass. I didn’t even notice it until I kept moving and realized that my knit skirt had unraveled beyond repair. I was left in nothing more than my slip. Nancy is a full five or six sizes larger than I am but her daughter is my size. Sherry went upstairs and got me some clothes to wear home. I had two choices. Wear my punch stained tuxedo shirt and my slip or her SLAYER t-shirt and micro mini skirt!

But would my daughter believe me? No, it was better to just play deaf. I decided to let the shower run a long, long time before having to face her.

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