Is anyone surprised I’m combining prompts again? This week, it’s Lillie McFerrin’s Five Sentence Fiction prompt of “DELICATE,” as well as Julia’s Place’s 100-Word Challenge for Grown-Ups (week 75, for those of you counting). The 100WCGU prompt is this picture:
Full photo can be found at Julia’s Place
Additionally, Julia asks us “…to close your eyes and imagine you are one of those figures looking out over the Grand Canyon. Your 100 words can either [be] the conversation that might happen or your thoughts as you look and experience the scene.“
First-person pieces are not my forte, and I didn’t exactly follow the rules. But, this could be one conversation that might happen, just not to me….
“At the Edge”
We approached the edge side by side, but not together; I was only supposed to be his guide, after all, a familiar face to show him some wonders on his American holiday, nothing more.
“Beautiful,” I murmured when we reached the rail; there was his hand, settled so close, but who knew what might be said if anyone noticed. “It always makes me feel insignificant, like a snowflake in a storm.”
“Singular, perhaps,” he said, “but, hardly insignificant.”
Something in his voice made me look up, into his face, just as he took my hand, whispering, “I’ve left my wife.”
(forgive the rushed job on the hands, please; I did this one in about an hour)
As indelicate as this situation is, it’s one close to my heart. Am I venturing too much into reality? Or, does this still smack of fiction to you? I feel like I’m blurring the lines more and more, these days.
What conversations did you have as you looked out over the Grand Canyon this week? What did you think? Something DELICATE, or not? Feel free to let me know!
I’m doubling-up on prompts again! (Why not start the year off right?)
Lillie McFerrin’s Five Sentence Fiction prompt is “ENDING” and week 71’s prompt for the 100-Word Challenge for Grown-Ups over at Julia’s Place is “…as midnight struck….”
As a side note, I rarely put forward for Julia’s challenges anything I personally would deem above and/or beyond the PG rating certificate (Lillie’s challenge comes with no caveat about rating, though I think we police ourselves well enough), but I’m rather liberal about mature subjects, myself. I leave you to be the judge if this is inappropriate.
The first time they heard midnight strike together, there was just the job between them: script, soundtrack, timecode, a story due by deadline.
The second time it happened, though, they passed between them their own stories, of husbands, wives, and wanton regrets, kept secret until that moment.
By the third, between them there was nothing at all, save the taste of wine on fevered lips…and prospects of forever whispered in his dark hotel room.
So, on the fourth, while still wrapped around each other, he asked the question smoldering between them. And, in his bed, as midnight struck, she answered with a kiss.
I’ve stayed away from Robb and Emma for a while, but this double-edged sword of a mixed prompt plucked at my heartstrings a bit too much to ignore.
What ENDING did you create? What happened when midnight struck? Let me know!
For week 53 of the 100-Word Challenge for Grown-ups, Julia has given us a specific text prompt:
… would seven prove to be too much? …..
As usual, you have 100 words to add to these 7 making 107 in total to produce your piece.
I tamed things down a bit from my initial idea for this prompt, though I still stayed close to some characters with whom I’ve spent some time in the past….
“One More Night”
One, two, three were honest. Even four was believable. Five was unlikely, though, making six worthy of suspicion. Would seven prove to be too much?
“You’re not coming home?”
“I’m sorry,” he said into the phone, again. He nearly meant it, too; he could almost hear the obliging, unwitting smile in her voice.
“That’s all right,” she said. “I know your work is important.” More mundane pleasantries then, followed by vanilla farewells.
He closed his phone with a click, echoed by the snap of buttons.
“You think she suspects?”
He turned, took her in his arms, and smiled. “Don’t know. Does yours?”
She smiled, too. “Don’t care.”
By Virginia Frances Sterret [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
There’s always a complication with these two…! Like most of my characters, though, the more I write them, the more engrossed I become in their deeper stories.
Did seven prove to be too much for someone in your story, this week? I’d love to know!
For week 51 of the 100-Word Challenge for Grown-Ups, the prompt is, simply:
…together the flames…
We have 100 words to produce a creative piece from the prompt. It doesn’t say we have to use those words exactly, but I did, as you’ll see.
They’d danced what felt a slow forever: circling, stepping, narrowly avoiding, their movements never too close…nor too far. Just enough distance to stay safe, to stay mellow, to stay simply teasing and contained.
But even embers, left alone, will glow, and crackle, and burn.
That’s what they did, at last, one night. Flared fiercely in the dim dark as they met for the first time, feeding and devouring each other both, with each kiss and lick growing stronger, brighter, until they burst, together, the flames forming a consuming conflagration.
His wife fled.
Her husband wept.
And the fire raged on.
“The Lovers’ Boat” by Albert Pinkham Ryder [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
What kind of flames did you stoke for this week’s prompt?
Week 49’s 100-Word Challenge for Grown-Ups is another text prompt:
….Murray was just about to serve for the Championship when…
As Julia says, you have 100 words plus those in the prompt making 110 altogether. The prompt must be in the piece and not split.
Okay, then! I revisited an earlier vignette for this one, inspired as I was by that trailing “when…”
“Sad to Belong”
(With apologies to England Dan and John Ford Coley.)
They left the hotel television on, simply for the noise: noisy rooms were less likely to be disturbed. And they couldn’t be disturbed. Not now. Not after all the cooped-up days they’d already wasted, yearning for each other’s touch.
Robb’s arms were around her, but, still, Emma had to ask: “You’re certain about this?”
He nodded, nearly desperate. “I can’t go another minute without you,” he said, before crushing his mouth to hers.
They tumbled to the bed then, the television’s chatter covering their moans, and the snap of buttons and belts. Apparently, Murray was just about to serve for the Championship, when Robb’s mobile rang.
It was his wife.
I’m likely alone on this, but I don’t see Emma or Robb as bad people. Perhaps because I see their situation as a case of Right Love, Wrong Life.
What glimpse into another life did you take, with this week’s prompt?