Romance, Writing Prompts

Short- To A Fresh Start

  • Word count: 700
  • Genre: Romance
  • Character: A heart-broken lover
  • Material: A pencil
  • Sentence: “I don’t want to ask for too much.”

Bonus: Your character is loved by everyone.

 

“I don’t want to ask for too much…” He trailed of unable to continue speaking. His fingers  continued turning and twisting the pencil in his hands. His green blue eyes stared at the curtain rippling from the A/C unit. He didn’t really see anything at this point. The whole situation had overwhelmed his mind and emotion to such a degree nothing was processing. “I mean. I had just…hoped.” He stopped talking again.

Hope was all he had at this point. A fragile thing glinting on the edge of a cliff teetering between falling into the abyss and rolling back to a lush forest.

“I…” He turned his gaze up at the woman standing there in her yellow sun dress. She was beautiful by anyone’s standard. Her brown hair  fell around her face curling lightly on her pale shoulders. While her make up was flawless, and her clothing well chosen, her beauty did not extend beneath the surface. Her narrowed blue eyes cut deep into his hair sending the glimmer of hope off the cliff. He swallowed hard. “Ok.” He whispered standing up from the wooden chair and tucking it into the table.

The woman folded her arms and turned from him effectively cutting him off. It wasn’t even as if he had asked for anything. He only wanted them to work out. She didn’t even want to be with him it seemed. This was it. The end. He didn’t think he could take any more of the cold shoulders, the ignoring and silent treatment.

Carefully, he set the pencil back in the cup so expertly arranged with the other items on the dining table. This place had been his home for three years. It was beautiful like the woman he had shared it with.

“If this is the way you want it.” She didn’t respond to him like she so often did. “I’m done with this.” That barely caught her attention. Perhaps, she thought he would be crawling back to her because tto her they always did. “If you won’t act like an adult.” He shook his head and took a deep breath. This had long been in the planning stage. It was spur of the moment, but now was as good a time as any. “I’m done with being treated like you should be worshiped but treat me like crud. I am a man.”

“I wish you would act like one.”

The words stopped him but only for a moment. “I am a man. It’s not because of sex like you will tell everyone, but because of your behavior. Your coldness.” He could tell she was pretending not to listen, and maybe she really wasn’t, but this part was for him. “You refuse to support me even on the best of days. Only when I present you with the appropriate gifts will you then maybe do something for me. I need someone that will be there for me.” He turned facing the door. “I’m actually glad you refused to marry me.” He could see her twitch from the corner of his eye. “Now I don’t have to serve you papers. “

He started for the door no longer hesitating. Only once he had all his things, he faced her again. “There will be no more gifts, no more money. I have cut you out of my life.” Now he had her full attention. Even as he stood there, she began screaming at him. She threw vases, bowls, or whatever she could grab. He had waited until he was at the door so he could use the door as a shield. He wasn’t even sure what she was saying at this point, or if she was saying anything. At first, he had intended to say more, but it felt done so he closed the door. His suitcases were in his car. Soon, her place of luxury would be gone. He would sell his house and move somewhere else. Some place that wouldn’t remind him of the long term mistreatment.

 

 

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Writing Prompts

Writing Prompt – 500 words

I’m trying out a new writing prompt site. I’m kinda liking it. The site seems to have everything I need for writing. Lately it’s been really crazy over here. My computer got locked, so I couldn’t do anything with it. It was so frustrating, but luckily someone was able to help me out. Now I can get back to writing!

Word count

500 words

Genre

Suspense

Character

A bank counter

Material

A fridge

Sentence to use

“I can’t see you.”

“I can’t see you.”

 

The words drifted out filling the dining room dropping the temperature. Willard stopped writing on the paper. The numbers, facts, and figures blurred in front of his eyes. His throat convulsed reflexively. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. The voice just didn’t go away. He thought if he could make it leave him alone. If he could hide. It hadn’t worked.

 

“Where did you go?”

 

The voice drifted out again almost making his eyes roll back in their sockets. It didn’t sound like a child, or a woman, or anyone he recognized, but somehow all of them. He thought he felt in the voice he could hear someone he knew, but also there wasn’t anyone who sounded like that. The sound seemed to change every time he listened like it was trying to find the correct voice to use. Its indecisiveness was his only relief. It hadn’t found a voice that worked well enough yet. As long as it didn’t, he could continue on.

 

“Why are you hiding?”

 

He steadied his hands so he could keep writing. His work needed this in by tomorrow. At first, he hadn’t wanted to, but he didn’t finish at the office in time. What else was he supposed to do? He really needed this job. This company gave him security and good pay. The work wasn’t demanding most of the time and he got sick leave.

His thoughts were abandoning him. He found he was having a harder time thinking now that it was 10 p.m. The voice only called out at this time. When he had first moved in, he had asked about it but no one knew what he was talking about. Not wanting to be the resident crazy, he had kept it to himself.

 

“Are we playing a game?”

 

He took a deep breath. Why wouldn’t it leave him alone? Despite his best effort, he found himself responding.

“No. I’m not. I’m trying to work. Now leave me alone.” Willard said.

His hand ran through his dark thinning hair as he tried to compose himself. Talking into the air made him feel even crazier. What if this was a symptom of something? Was his mind breaking? His family didn’t have any tendencies.

 

“Oh? Aren’t we?”

 

His eyes unfocused off of the paper onto the fridge in front of him. He really shouldn’t respond. Yet, it enticed him. “No.” He shook his head dropping his gaze to the numbers that had once looked so familiar. He had moved the fridge in front of the wall to block where it was coming from.

The voice was deciding too quickly. Responding more often. It had once seemed like a friendly neighbor talking with him or at him. After a few weeks, he had noticed it sounded less ambiguous and more, familiar. He would swear he could feel it trying words in its nonexistent mouth. When it settled, he felt fear grip him. He had lost.

 

“I am.”

Writing Prompts

Writing Prompt – First Line 2

random word count – 445
First line – The house wasn’t the same to her any more

The house wasn’t the same to her any more. Sure, the paintings were all in the same place. The colors were the same. The entire layout was the same. Something felt strangely different. This was her home but not. She couldn’t quite place the feeling at first. The place didn’t feel the same.

She went about her day cleaning up after the little ‘party’ she’d had, but now she felt alone. It wasn’t like she always had to have someone around. There had always been people around once upon a time. After moving out, she had become accustomed to her house and the way it was. Now, it had changed for whatever reason. It felt empty now.

The party hadn’t been very big, so the clean up had ben brief. Whatever it was that had changed still bugged her. She went from room to room scanning, searching, but never finding whatever it was.

Whatever it was, she would have to deal with it tomorrow. She began making dinner, basic since she was put out from cooking so much the day previously. The smell of Italian food filled the air, but didn’t delight her like it usually did. The sauce came together. The pasta finished cooking. Putting it all together in a bowl, she took it into the front room plopping down on her fluffy couch. She smiled when the tv came on for once flicking to the her favorite channel. There she ate her dinner and watched her show without any interruption. It was relaxing. Something she hadn’t been able to do for quite a while.

Finishing up her meal, and episode, she cleaned up after herself without any issue. She hesitated once in a while, but nothing ever happened, so she continued. A knot was forming in her belly. Her instincts were telling her something was wrong, so so wrong. She hoped with a distraction she could place whatever it was.

Dinner was finished with everything cleaned up. The place was probably cleaner than it had been in a while. She didn’t have work today or tomorrow. Without cleaning, she felt her schedule would be free to do whatever she wanted for once. A happy little thrill shocked through her popping a smile up on her face. She could possibly paint. Turning on her heel, she went to the door leading to the basement.

The door was open.

The door was never open.

Her breath held. She swallowed hard. Had someone opened it when the party was going on? Her hand stretched out touching the doorknob but there was no electric charge stinging her hand like usual. This wasn’t good.

The demon was gone.

Writing Prompts

Writing prompt -First line

Random number- 1251

They’d had a lot of freedom back then and not just because their environment was safer – few children had been allowed to roam as much as they.

Perhaps this was the reason they had a certain fearlessness about them. Together they claimed they could conquer the world. The whole neighborhood had become their playground. No tree was safe from being climbed. No hole was left hidden. And when even their whole neighborhood had become too small for them. They turned to areas outside of their street. As long as they stayed together, neither felt afraid. They ran to the grocery store for Popsicle, or went to the park. No one ever bothered them. It was like something told everyone they were going to be okay.

Once in a while, they wondered why they were allowed to roam so far and freely, and the other children couldn’t. At first, they thought it was because they were so responsible. Their parents thought they were old enough, strong enough and good enough to be on their own. But as time wore on, they saw more and more parent with their children. More and more they began to wonder after their own. They would go home and there they would be wondering why they were back. There wouldn’t be much of an answer except for them to go back outside to play. In the beginning, there was no hesitation. With each year that passed, it was like something was screaming at them to stay, to yell at them to care if they were there or not.

They began to see their freedom as a lack of caring in their parents. Together, they postulated. What if something had happened to them when they were out? Would their parents notice? They began to test how much their parents cared.

At first, by just staying out too late, or leaving earlier. Their parents said no word. They brought home increasingly strange items. It would never matter what. The longer they stayed out, the happier their parents became. Or so they soon found out. One night, they even chose to stay in their treehouse all night. They watched to see if their parents would come out crying wondering where they were, but they saw adults going over. Bottles appeared in their hands. They laughed, watched the tv more, played games and did things they never did around them.

The morning after their night in the treehouse, they sat together thinking of what to do. Their parents didn’t care where they were here or there, home or not. They barely even acknowledged their existence. When they were there, they were sad. She even told him once, when she went home without him, she saw their mother crying. That had solidified it. They were going to leave. They weren’t ever going to come back. If their parents didn’t want them there, he told her. It didn’t matter. They would find someone who did want them.

He led her into the house resolving to get their things and leave.

“Last night, was the first good night we’ve had in a long time.”

They heard them talking.

“I felt like I was finally free.”

The relief in their voices brought them both to tears. They didn’t have to ask if they really wanted them or not. To them, it was clear. Their parents never did want them. That’s why they were always drinking from those bottles when they were near.

“Come on, Ellen.” He beckoned her. As they walked down the hallway to their bedrooms, they froze in the door way. There was nothing there. Their beds. Their toys. Nothing was there.

As they turned around, trudging towards the front door. He tried to console her as she sobbed in his chest. Their parents must of heard them because they stopped talking.

“Bye, Mom. Dad.” He managed to say as he went back out the front door.

What had they done? Did they do something wrong? Were they not good enough? Maybe they just didn’t want kids and they had come along by accident?

Standing out front of the house, they looked back at the house. They both quietly said good bye again before wondering off down the street. Now, they felt confused as to why they had such freedom. Why they hadn’t been wanted. Why they drank from those bottles when they were around and celebrated when they left.

That night was the worst. They sat all alone in the park swinging not sure what to do now. The days prior had been filled with such happiness, but now nothing seemed to hold the same thrill. A stranger walked by looked over at them before going wide eyed and hurrying on. That seemed to be the reaction to them these days.

“Sam.” Ellen whispered almost not daring to ask. “Why do think everyone seems to hate us? Did we do something wrong?” She turned her head to look at him on the swing next to her.

“I don’t think so.” He replied trying his best to be strong, for her at least. “I think it’s the same reason it’s always been.” Jumping off, he spun around trying to be enthusiastic to make her happier. “We’re responsible. We don’t do anything bad. Ever. We don’t hurt any animals. The police never have to worry about us. We don’t damage people’s stuff. We’re good kids. Now, come on, Ell. Let’s go find somewhere else to play. This place is gloomy.”

Turning on his heels, he began to lead her from the park, but seeing a woman standing there unnerved him. He put his sister behind him wary. They had never been afraid to be out at any time of day or night, but this woman scared him and Ellen. He puffed up trying to appear bigger than he was. It was his job to keep his sister safe.

“What do you want?” He asked in his strongest voice.

The woman came closer to them. Her greying hair tied back in a tight bun. The clothes were covered in flour, but had recently been patted with wet hands. Her blue eyes were soft and loving. The wrinkles on her face told of countless hours laughing and smiling.

“You look lost, Little Ones.” She said.

The girl clung close to him not sure what was going on. He tried his best to step away but now it felt impossible.

“What happened?” She sat on the stairs to the playground not coming closer as if sensing their distress.

“We…We can’t go home.” He told her, though he wasn’t sure why. “Our parents don’t want us any more.”

She nodded knowingly, even sad. “Why do you think that?”

Taking a deep breath and steeling his upper lip, he told her everything they had seen, all that had happened.

“Oh, Little Ones.” She went over to hold them both. It was a feeling they hadn’t felt in a long time. A glimmer of memory stirred in their heads.

“Grandma?” They asked. When she nodded they held onto her even tighter.

“My Little Ones.” She said again kissing their heads. “Come. Let me tell you about what happened.” Drawing them close, she sat down on the stair. “Your parents love you very much. It isn’t because they don’t want you. You see, there was an accident. They don’t see you because they can’t.” They looked up into her face somehow understanding now.

“It’s time to come home.” She smiled.

Letter from the Author

Sorry For the Lack of Writings

Hey Everyone,

 

Sorry for the lack of posts, stories or otherwise. This year has been a real tough one for me. Someone I thought of as my best friend used, abused and in so many ways misused me. I have forgiven the debt she owes me just to end that connection. She took as much as she could from me and took advantage of my trust. She hurt my dog, my son, my other, and myself. Who knows what else she did.

I think the worst part was when she did it. I would have been ‘ok’ had it been most any other time, but my dad passed and it was the anniversary of that date. She had promised to be there for me and in the end hurt me in the worst way possible on one of the worse dates possible making the cut extra deep then had the gall to tell everyone how it was all my fault because she couldn’t possibly stand to have it be her fault.

In the end it was a huge mess, with lots of fighting, arguing, and lots and lots of bitterness. I’ve worked through most of it, but seeing her in such a terrible way now doesn’t make me feel any better. Not that I did any of it, despite her blaming me for anything that goes wrong.

She had been my best friend for 17 years but she’s become someone I don’t know. Or maybe, I just didn’t realize how easily she justified manipulating and using people was for her.

In any case, it has been hard getting my creative writing down on paper. I have lots of ideas and lots inspiration. I’m feeling a lot more excited about things. I wish things hadn’t happened the way they did, but with the support of friends and family. I’ve begun to move forward again. It makes me especially grateful for true friends and family.

Thank you for your patience.