Prudence cried for Samuel, “I can’t find her anywhere!”
Samuel stopped working on the bed he was making for their daughter and followed Prudence from the barn.
“I’ll search the trees, and you search the fields,” he told his wife.
The two separated, running in opposite directions, calling for the child they dearly loved.
As Prudence neared the pond, she heard a child’s laughter, and relief and gratitude washed through her. She slowed her pace to enjoy the moment. Her daughter was safe and happy!
As she turned the bend in the road, she suddenly froze, shocked by what she had witnessed. Rachel sat in the meadow grass, but she was not alone. Animals surrounded her, and her daughter laughed with glee as a doe came near and licked the child on her head. Fox kits laughed along with her baby and rolled on their backs. Chipmunks sat in Rachel’s lap. But the magic ended when Prudence shrieked!
The doe quickly sprang into action and bolted for cover under the canopy of the nearby sycamores. The kits ran to a thicket of blackberries, hiding in the brambles. Chattering, the chipmunks disappeared into the tall grass. As the animals retreated, Rachel began to cry, and Prudence ran to pick up her daughter. The mother could feel her heart pounding as she held the crying girl. Fear swirled, and she wished to know more about the child her husband had brought home to her.
Wishes can be a source of natural tension for a story—will the protagonist get their wish fulfilled or not? What are the consequences of that outcome? For today’s prompt, write about a wish.
For today’s prompt, write about a parent’s wisdom. It could be a physical key, a metaphorical one, or even something completely abstract—it’s totally up to you!
As she sat in her usual seat, I watched her. The quick lunch with a glass of Chardonnay, the quilt of drinking and returning to her job, the breath mint to cover any telltale signs.
Adrienne rarely displayed her emotions and lived a private life. She had few friends, and even her closest companions knew little about her past. But I knew everything, her painful struggles, and her losses. Wearily, I watched in fascination as she picked up the pieces of her life, time after time.
As a child, the girl lost her parents at such a young age she could barely remember them. Her parents died in a cross-country skiing accident in Colorado. The avalanche took her parents in an instant, and she soon moved in with her grandmother.
Over the years, she shared a happy life with her Gram. The woman doted on her granddaughter. The time the two spent together was a gift to Adri, and she treasured the grandmother who loved and adored her. Still, another life ended unexpectedly. When Gram passed, she took a piece of Adri’s heart with her.
And my Adri became another young girl locked into a heartless system of bouncing from home to home. Her fragile life became a series of heartache, one catastrophe after another. Then it settled into a life she found tedious and boring, hence the Chardonnay to get her through the afternoon.
A market research analyst sounded exciting on paper; however, the tedious research on women and their needs and wants left her frustrated. Inwardly, she screamed, “We can do better.” It became her daily prayer. She wanted to chuck it all in a world of face creams, the latest body sculpting techniques, diet crazes, how-tos on makeup, and how successful women juggle families and careers. Still, she did have one favorite research topic: the wines of Napa Valley.
Today, after work, she rushed to the corner bar and grill and ordered her classic chef salad with the ranch on the side. From her research, she knew an oak-aged California Chardonnay would pair nicely with her lean meal and ordered accordingly. Next, she pulled her tablet from her Bottegga Veneta, a gift from a client, and continued her research on Lost Alabaster. The shoe giant wanted to know the latest on a woman’s desire for mid-top sneakers. Colors, styles…oh, she sarcastically thought, maybe throw in comfort and support just for fun!
Sighing, she polished her drink and ordered another. She halfway picked at the salad. She pushed her favorite toppings to one side – the tomatoes, the homemade croutons, the pieces of boiled egg, the cubed cheddar, and small slices of grilled chicken. Always a picky eater, she learned to eat what was on her plate from her teenage years. Now she had the luxury to pick and choose, but old habits died hard. Three bites of the Romaine, one bite of cheddar, followed by the chicken. Three bites of Romaine, two bites of the croutons, after all, who could resist, followed by a cherry tomato. It would take a third glass to finish her meal.
Sighing, she shoved her plate from her and sipped on her third, or was it a fourth glass of wine? She decided to go with three; the one at lunch did not count. She wondered how her life had become so routine and uneventful.
After her Gram died, she lived in a series of foster homes. While living in these shelters, coping skills kept her going. Strange eating habits, listening to music on headphones to drown out the sounds of “family.” Keeping emotions in check. Applying herself in school maintained a steady stream of excuses to stay away from her current dwelling. That’s probably how she became involved in market research. In foster homes, wifi and cell phones were a luxury she lacked. Adri didn’t mind; it gave her the necessary pretext to stay away from the life she abhorred. She spent hours at the library researching school projects on various history, English, and Science topics. She liked the distraction that kept her from dealing with the missing pieces of her life.
At one home, she almost felt she belonged. Adri trusted her foster mom. Zoe tried to make her feel welcome. She never lied to her and even told her the truth. Money was tight, and she needed a roommate, ergo Adri. The two grew close, almost like sisters. One weekend the two binge-watched the entire series of Charmed and ate Ben and Jerry’s straight from the carton. Zoe was a faithful friend who ensured she had wifi for school, clean clothes, and decent meals, well, most of the time, anyway. She allowed Adri to bring home friends and talked to her about boys and birth control. At last, Adri felt she could actually inhale and breathe.
I was at her school the day when her social worker, Ana, arrived. The woman took her to the counselor’s office and methodically and rather coldly told her that Zoe had died on I-80 earlier that morning. The foster mom had been the victim of road rage, and while the shot was not meant for her, she had unknowingly driven into the line of fire. The shooter fled the scene in a silver Volvo or was it a Hyundai? No one glimpsed the driver’s face. Hell, no one even knew if the driver were female or male. Safe to say the shooter was still at large.
That night Adri slept in her first group home, the Kinship House. Two nights later, she woke to a frenzy of wails and screams. One girl in the dorm had slit her wrists and was rushed to the emergency room by ambulance. I watched as that girl recovered, and the girls at Kinship House did not.
A week later, against Adri’s wishes, Ana found her a new placement. A tired couple with grown children took the bewildered girl into their home. Adri’s latest family included two foster siblings, a 14-year-old boy named Isaak and a 12-year-old girl named Nevaeh.
“I saved the lower bunk for you,” Nevaeh gushed.
“Whatever,” sighed Adri as she hopped into the sanctity of the upper bunk. She slipped on her earphones and blasted some Wolf Alice:
She needs a lover to escape her father and mother
She hopes for some other way out of the hole
She’s overachieving, chasing her dreams
And coming down slowly, yeah, it’s out of control
I watched as she navigated life at the Clay residence. It was tolerable as long as she was home by curfew and did not complain about the endless stream of boxed mac and cheese. Still, East Oakland was not the safest place. After Isaak was knifed, the Oakland Tribune rushed an article about foster homes and safety. Social workers scrambled to find new homes for the children. Nevaeh went to a house somewhere in Eureka, Isaak to Stockton, and Adri landed with a young couple in Sausalito.
The Canes were kind, but Adri kept them and everyone else in her life at a distance. Senior year stay on the path – apply for scholarships – no distractions – no commitments – no attachments – no more deadly situations. Did death really seem to follow her?
College at UC Berkley came and went. But, after a brief affair with a married college professor, Adri stayed on course with her mantra of zero involvement.
After college, her business management degree landed her a place with Samuel, Inc. near North Point in San Franciso. Thus, her life of endless tedious research. “Life,” she laughed, could not become any more dreary.
On her days off, Adri made the most of her time. She decorated her apartment on Pierce. On the weekends, she rode her bike along the Presidio or visited the galleries or the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park. San Francisco had really become her home.
But she knew she would eventually have to give it all up if she wanted to remain semi-sane. Her research gig paid the bills for her lifestyle, the apartment, the clothes, and the weekends in Napa, but she knew she would have to find another job soon. Life was too short to work from nine to whatever and chase after the empty ads of false promises and dreams.
One day after scanning work sites, she read a job ad that caught her eye.
Save our planet!
Wanted: Research Assistant for an upcoming global sustainable company. Pay
negotiable. Nice perks. Interested?
650-523-1900.
She scanned the requirements and knew a pay cut would be in order for any save-the-world type of employment, but she sent in her resume anyway. Two days later, she received a call from the owner. It really was new and upcoming. His office was in a spare bedroom in his North Point apartment. Still, she agreed to meet him, not at his apartment but at a nearby pub. Her meeting was in two days.
Although she was nervous about the new prospect, she was also excited. I noticed she smiled a little more for the first time in a while. She laughed a little more and drank slightly less wine. I hoped the tide had turned.
The night before her interview, Adri unexpectedly had to work late. As she finished her menial tasks, she couldn’t wait to leave. She wanted to get home, kick off her shoes, and sip on her favorite Zinfendal from the valley, another gift from a client.
After calling for a ride, she slipped on her Versace Sneakers and a light Moncler jacket. It had been a long day, heels were out, and it was dark; she laughed. Who would know? Grabbing her tote, she headed out of the office and took the stairs, not waiting for the elevator.
Once on the street, she lingered in front of the building for her ride. Watching from across the street, I smiled. Adri looked happy. Tomorrow was her interview, and I hoped her life would become more enjoyable for the young woman that had known so much heartache. Whistling, I walked to the corner, for I was still on the clock. This old soul enjoyed walking the streets of North Point in the evenings, something Adri and I had in common.
Suddenly, I had been summoned. “Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!” I cried. I recognized the address. At full speed, I rushed to my next destination, and as I feared, Adri sprawled on the sidewalk. People were screaming; others called 911. A woman sat on the cold walk with Adri’s head in her lap. She uselessly pleaded with my girl to stay with her. But the bullet from the driveby found its mark. Senseless slaughter.
Taking Adri’s hand, the young woman looked up at me and asked, “Do I know you?’
I smiled, “No, not really. We never formally met, but I have wandered in your life from time to time and marveled at your persistence to make it in your world.”
She gazed up at me, rightfully confused.
“Let me explain,” I continued. “I first met you when your parents passed. The next time we crossed paths was when Gram and Zoe died, a terrible tragedy. Then I was summoned twice again, once when the girl from Kinship House slit her wrists and again when Issak was stabbed. Thankfully, the two survived.”
I nervously laughed before I continued. “My career is rather bleak. I am summoned all hours of the day and night. I find my client and leave. After some time, you caught my attention; you were often present at my appointments. I watched as you mourned for your parents, grandmother, and friend. After those occasions, I watched over you, hoping your life would improve. But then, after the girl from Kinship house and then Issak, I worried. Plus, your job at Samuel was so insanely mortifying.”
I rambled on, “And I will have you know I literally jumped for joy when you called Ron about the new job. You would have loved it!”
Sighing, I hung my head before I continued. “I was warned about getting attached to the people left behind, but here I am, my dear, mourning you like I would my own child if I were allowed to be a father.”
“Wait!” She screamed. “Am I…am I”
“Dead?” He finished for her. “Yes, my child, I am afraid so.”
Writing Prompt:
For today’s prompt, write from the perspective of a guardian angel. Whether that’s a supernatural being or just an angel on Earth, let your creativity soar!
Burrowed beneath the many layers of blankets, the pair sleeps. The frosty morning surrounds the room, and a chill lingers. Earlier, one braved the cold for a fire in the woodstove pops and crackles, and the aroma of brewing coffee fills the morning air. As footsteps approach the room, a nose peeks from under the covers and then another. Mama laughs and calls, “Wake up, you two lazy bones.”
The two shake off the covers in anticipation. They know Mama has brought them breakfast in bed. Mitzi yawns, and Max smiles. Always the gentleman, Max waits for his sister to be served first. After a long slumber, the starved siblings gulp down their morning treat. After eating, Mitzi quickly scrambles beneath the covers once more. Max follows, but first, he gives his Mama a quick kiss on the cheek.
Laughing, the woman never imagined she would one day be waiting on two spoiled babies while serving them breakfast in bed. “Oh, the life of a Doxie mom,” she tells herself. But, of course, no one listens to her declaration. Her furbabies are already dreaming about chasing rabbits and wondering what mama will serve for lunch.
Writing Prompt:
For today’s prompt, write about a lazy weekend morning. Maybe it’s one that stays lazy or one that gets interrupted by something surprising.
In the spaces between our busy lives, we found love in fleeting, precious moments. John’s work kept him traveling across the country, sometimes around the world. It wasn’t ideal, but his job was important to him, and I reminded myself that I had known this when I married him. Still, I missed him fiercely when he was away.
That evening, he slipped into bed late, weary from his travels, and drew me close. “Annie, my love, I just want to hear your laughter and stay in your arms,” he whispered, enfolding me against his chest.
I smiled and nodded in agreement as I pushed in closer to his side of the bed, savoring the warmth of his body.
“I wish I could always be with you. This job demands too much of my time. We need this week away.”
His work was demanding, but he always made up for lost time. Drowsy, I let my mind drift to our past escapes together. The last trip, we had fled to a cabin in the mountains in spring, nestled among towering pines. We slept together in a hammock beneath a blanket of stars, breathing in the scent of blue spruce and lodgepole pine. I remembered our spontaneous dance in the rain, splashing in puddles like carefree children, so in love that the world seemed to shrink around us.
Each journey we took left an indelible mark on our hearts; love laced to the regions we visited, each place gifting us its flavor, a token of its beauty.
“Where are you taking me this time?” I questioned playfully
“A surprise, my love, a surprise.”
It didn’t matter. John could take me to the moon, and I would be happy. He always surpassed my expectations, filling me with a love that reached deep into my marrow.
Before we drifted to sleep, he whispered, “Do you remember the storm in Sedona?”
I smiled, recalling the silver flashes cutting through the desert sunset. Thunder rolled like a symphony, and rain misted beneath the pergola, caressing our bare arms and legs as we shivered in the desert heat.
“Or the sleepy ocean at Assateague Island with wild horses roaming the beaches?” I murmured in return
He laughed, ‘You were smitten with the blue of the sea and the splendor of the wild mustangs. Two of your favorite things.”
“You do know how much you mean to me, right?” He earnestly questioned.
“Tell me,” I whispered.
Brushing the hair from my face, he traced my lips with his fingers. “I would give my life to you. I long to drown in your laughter. I want to always be with you.”
Life with my love was an adventure—an intimate voyage traced in breath, laughter, and the secret currents that moved between us. As he murmured his tribute, I quieted him with the softest touch. ‘Shh,’ I whispered, drawing him into the sanctuary of my arms. ‘Come… let me love you.’
The night unfurled around us like silk, gathering us into its dark, shimmering hush until the world dissolved at its edges. And in that drifting, where desire and tenderness wove themselves into something almost sacred, I understood: the heart of a partnership is not simply in the moments we share, but in the way we surrender to them together—choosing, again and again, to meet each other where wonder lives
For today’s prompt, write a story inspired by a favorite song. This could be an old song you still love, a new one you can’t get out of your head, or maybe a song your characters can’t get away from. The choice is yours!
After checking into the Coral Reef Inn, Jessie decided to grab lunch. The excited woman could not wait to explore all the local haunts she frequented when she was younger. After checking Google, the hungry lady decided on Pier 29 on Ballena Bay. She loved the little isle It was the perfect place to stretch her legs after her flight.
The young woman had flown out for her ten year class reunion. She could not wait to see her old high school friends. She knew Jenn and Trish would be there. Both still lived on the island. Jenn taught math at their rival high school. Jenn married her college sweetheart, Ryan, and the two lived in a painted lady on Santa Clara. Trish remained happily single and worked for a law firm in San Fransico. She lived in a little one-bedroom cottage behind her parent’s massive Victorian home on the east side.
Of course, Jessi could have stayed with her childhood friends, but Jenn and Ryan were renovating their home with two children, two-year-old Spencer and five-year-old Haley. She laughed and told Jenn, “I love you, but I think I will skip the chaos.”
“Wise move. Make sure you get a room with two queen-sized beds. I may just crash with you this week!” Jenn laughed.
Trish offered her the pullout couch, but Jess knew her friend’s place would be littered with law books and case notes as she often took her work home. Trish chuckled when Jess declined. “I know, just say it. I am still a mess.”
“But you’re a lovely mess, my dear friend.” Jess honestly told her friend.
The trio would meet later for drinks and catch up on all the latest news. In the meantime, Jess wanted to explore. After finishing her shrimp and veggie salad, Jess sipped on her Pinot Blanc. She sat on the patio facing the marina. She could smell the saltiness in the air. The seagulls cried as they flew towards the shoreline. In the distance, the San Francisco skyline loomed across the bay. The sea breeze caressed her bare arms, and it all reminded her of the boy she missed.
In high school, she spent many hours at this marina. She worked part-time for the boatyard for Jonathon’s dad. She answered phones, filed, and helped with the billing. Jonathon. She pictured the tall, lanky teen. He was a year older than her. His long wavy sun-streaked locks reached just below his shoulders. Since he worked at the boatyard with his dad, his tan remained year around. She wondered about his boyish face with the spattering of freckles. Did he still look the same? She still remembered his warm brown eyes with a touch of gold. When he smiled, his eyes smiled too. His face was an open book, and a person could easily discern Jonathon’s current mood with just one glance. She could still picture his emotions: his joy when his dad surprised him with his sailboat, his heartache when his mom died, and his sadness when he discovered she had been accepted into Columbia. Although he tried to cover up his emotions, she witnessed how his pride had changed to sorrow when he realized they would be living on separate coasts.
“It’s only four years. I will be back before you know it. I will come home for holidays and summer breaks,” Jess told her love on that day so long ago.
Jonathon tried to smile, but it did not reach his eyes this time. He pulled Jessi into his warm embrace and softly murmured, “I love you.”
Jessi sighed at the memory. It was the beginning of their ending. She tried to shake off the sudden gloom that overpowered her. Jonathon was in the past, and she needed to focus on her present, like her two best friends she would meet later that night.
That evening, the three women gathered at the Preacher’s Daughter on Park. They ordered three BLTs, and each ordered an adult beverage.
“I am excited about the reunion this weekend,” Jenn told her friends, “I wonder if Danny will be there,” she gushed.
“Jennifer Lynn Andrews! You’re a married woman. Do you still crush on Danny Myers?” Trish scolded.
“Oh, come on. You know Danny was fun to look at. We all had crushes on Danny,” Jenn laughed.
“True,” Trish sighed, and the three women giggled like teenage girls, just like when they were in high school.
The three women adored each other and looked forward to their weekend plans. Suddenly, Jenn sighed loudly, wishing she didn’t have to leave on Tuesday.
“What’s up, girlfriend?” Trish asked her friend. Both women looked so concerned Jenn laughed.
“Oh, I’m fine, “ Jess explained. “I just wish I could stay. I miss this, the three of us hanging out.”
“Well, the Bay Area reports the news too. Have you thought about checking out the newspapers here?” Jenn asked her old friend.
“Ya know, I have thought about it off and on over the years but always pushed it to the back burner because I have been so busy at The Seattle Times.”
“Jon still lives on the island and works with his dad at the boatyard. His dad made him a partner in the business.” Trish blurted out without thinking.
Jenn kicked Trish under the table and gave her a dirty look. Jessi’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name. She still missed him after all these years. And while she dated after they went their separate ways, no one quite measured up to her old flame.
Her friends witnessed the sadness that crossed her eyes. They knew she never quite got over him.
“Well, that’s definitely old news!” Jess protested. She lied and told her friends, “I closed that chapter years ago.”
Jenn and Trish glanced at each other. They knew their dear friend still missed her first love. And both women fretted over this bit of news.
To change the subject, Trish told Jess, “I have an idea! I will have my new intern search for jobs at local papers! She can scour ads for apartments too! Where do you want to live? Sausalito… San Francisco…”
Before Trish could finish, Jess and Jenn smiled at one another, and in unison, they proclaimed, “On the island!”
“Are we really doing this?” Jenn asked. “Am I moving home?”
“It’s time,” Trish remarked.
The three women spent the rest of the night planning on Jessi’s return and, of course, what they planned on wearing to the reunion the following evening. The night flew by too quickly, and before they knew it, Jenn and Trish dropped Jessi off at her motel.
The next evening, Jessi finished her makeup and slipped into the little black dress she had saved for special occasions. Yesterday, while shopping at Southshore, she found a pair of black high-heeled shoes with the brightest red soles. It was love at first sight, so she purchased the pumps. It would be a cute addition to her reunion ensemble and a fun reminder of her trip to her island home.
Jessi had just slipped on her shoes when Jenn called her. “Okay, Cinderella, your carriage awaits.”
Jessi laughed, “I’m leaving now.”
The lovely lady in the black dress stepped out of her room and spotted Jenn’s Pilot. She quickly walked to the car, excited about the evening’s adventures. Trish rolled down the passenger window and whistled. Jessi stopped, twirled, and then curtsied as her friends laughed. The trio was happy to be together once more. Jess climbed in the back seat while scooting over an assortment of books and toys. She smiled and wondered if she would ever have a family.
“Hey Jenn, I will be the designated driver tonight, so you can get your party on,” she told her friend.
“No drinking for me, at least not for the next nine months,” Jenn told her girls.
Trish and Jess started talking and laughing at once, excited about the news. “When did you find out,” Trish asked.
“Today,” Jenn replied. “I haven’t even told Ryan. We planned on stopping at two.” Jenn chuckled.
Jess didn’t know Ryan well and asked Jenn, “Will he be okay with the news?”
Laughing, Jenn replied, “Oh yeah. We have always enjoyed surprises. I am just waiting until we can have a moment of peace. Then, I want to plan a night out and celebrate our happy new addition. So, ladies, you have a chauffeur for the weekend.”
Jess and Trish started planning Jenn’s baby shower on the drive to the O Club. Jenn asked Jessi, “Does that mean you really plan on moving home?”
“Absolutely! I miss my girls, and I need my little family. So Trish, you better have your intern start looking for jobs and apartments on Monday.”
“Wahoo! I’m on it,” Trish excitedly replied.
Once the ladies entered the club, the three were greeted by old pals, and they quickly joined a table with some of their favorite classmates. Quickly, the trio ordered drinks, Trish ordered a craft beer, Jess ordered a glass of Zinfindel, and Jenn ordered her favorite soda, a Dr. Pepper Zero. A DJ had set up in a corner and played dance music. People were laughing and talking, and couples were beginning to dance.
The three of them decided to dance too when one of their favorite high school songs began to play. A slow dance began to play when the song ended, and the girls took their seats. Then, suddenly, the music stopped. It was interrupted by a new song, “Just a Kiss,” by Lady A, and Jessi’s heart lurched. It was their song, Jonathan and Jessi’s song. Trish and Jenn sat across from Jessi and began smiling when suddenly, a familiar voice asked, “May I have this dance.”
Trish laughed and blurted, “Well, look who crashed the party. Aren’t you attending the wrong reunion?”
Trish’s distraction gave Jenn a moment to compose herself. She immediately recognized Jonathon’s voice when he asked her to dance. Turning around, she took his offered hand, and the two made their way to the dance floor. The couple slowly danced in silence, afraid to break the spell of being in each other’s arms once again. When the song ended, Jonathan asked Jessi, “Can we talk.”
Jessi nodded her answer. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to a corner table.
“I was an idiot,” Jonathon began. “I should have never pushed you away. After my mom died, I thought I was losing you too. I didn’t want to drag out the waiting like we had to with mom. She deserved better; the pain was awful. I felt like I should end it quickly, for both of us. But I was wrong, Jess. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you graduated from high school. I tried dating others, but they weren’t you. So when I heard about your high school reunion, I contacted the committee and asked if I could crash. Jessi, I want you back. Please forgive me. I will never push you away again.”
Jonathon gazed into Jessi’s eyes, silently pleading. Jessie took a deep breath before she asked, “Promise?”
“Promise!” Jonathan shouted. He jumped from his chair and scooped her up in his arms. “I promise I will hold onto you forever.”
Writing prompt: Write a short story that ends with a promise.
Often the two would fall asleep together in the yard hammock under a blanket of stars
Chloe quickly packed her bag with her papers to grade, grabbed her coffee mug and car keys, and raced out of her classroom. As the teacher left her room, she smiled at the lingering students and staff members in the hallways. The young woman couldn’t wait to get home, for she knew he would be waiting for her, and she couldn’t wait to see his smiling face and dark eyes. With just a glance, he let her know every day that she was his world. She sighed, content in the knowledge that he loved her.
Since it was a warm day, she decided to open the sunroof and windows. The spring air warmed her skin. On her drive home, she smiled as she passed the hiking trails they often walked. They both loved the outdoors, the vast expanse of prairie with its wildlife and mountain views to the south. In the evenings, they enjoyed lounging on the patio and watching the sunset behind the mountains. The Bristlecone pine scented the air, and orioles and sparrows would often serenade the two. On warm nights, they would often stay up late to watch the first stars shimmer as the skies began to darken and barn owls called in the distance. Often the two would fall asleep together in the yard hammock under a blanket of stars. Happily, she sighed. Life was perfect.
As she pulled into her driveway, she decided today would be a great day to walk the trails, and she knew he would not have any reservations about this idea. So she hopped from her car and grabbed her bag and mug. He greeted her at the door with a kiss. She dropped her bag and cup on the counter and turned to grab the leash before the happy duo headed for their favorite trail, another perfect day for the little family.
Flash fiction writing prompt: Write about non-romantic love
“For all you know, I may even be a common crook or a heartless murderess that slays unsuspecting men in their sleep.”
One was quite outspoken. The other hated crowds and any social gathering that involved conversation. The two were total opposites, and their closest friends often wondered how Felice and Markus ever ended up together.
To put it simply, the two loved each other. Markus secretly told his bride that he fell in love the moment he gazed upon her heart-shaped face. She had delicate features and dark hair that contrasted with her ivory skin. But her eyes piqued his interest. Large chestnut eyes, almost black, reminded him of the sea caves on the island of Staffa. One look, and he drowned in her liquid pools. Although a sensible man, he instantly resolved to have fallen in love at first sight.
Felice was more cautious and took her time when she met Markus. In the past, she had succumbed to words of honey. An overabundance of flattery caused heartbreak. And worse, a blithering fool harped on and on about the useless follies of this world. As time passed, she found flirting to be a dreary sport. She often longed to skip the formalities and dive right into worldly matters of civil concern. Those conversations allowed a woman to see a fellow’s true nature. It cut to the chase, so to speak, and she could find the true measure of a man.
On the day the two met, Markus had unwillingly accepted an invitation to his aunt’s annual dinner for charity. This year, she sponsored a local school and wanted to help provide books for the newly built library.
His Aunt Eleonor was persuasive and refused to take no for an answer. “Goodness, Markus. How will you ever find a wife if you stay locked away in that dreary little flat in St. Andrews? Even a teaching professor needs to have some fun.”
To him, teaching was enjoyable and engaging. In class, the introvert blossomed, and he relished his hearty discussions on matters of philosophy and divinity. Outside of his beloved university, he tried to limit his verbal exchanges since he lacked social graces. In fact, he found most conversations with the fairer sex dull and tedious. Some wanted to converse about fashion or the weather. Others tried to follow the advice of female advice columns on how to catch a husband. No, thank you to both sides. Besides, he was positive they would not know what to do after they caught their unsuspecting spouse. In truth, he knew he was not an expert on the arts of matrimony, and he didn’t care to learn. Women were odd creatures that he believed lacked intensity regarding worldly matters. He had no desire to find a companion in which he would be required to participate in daily small talk and conversations to keep her happy. In that setting, He knew he and his beloved would become miserable creatures, stuck in a world of dreary talks and uncomfortable silence.
Still, as his eyes fell upon Felice, all his boisterous mandates of the ills of matrimony immediately fled. Once the first course began, he could not take his eyes off her. He sat in close proximity to observe the fawning men that tried to wheedle their way into gaining her attention. Their polite conversational skills bored her. Once the dinner ended, she politely excused herself as the guests made their way to the parlor.
The woman sighed as she contemplated making an escape. She knew her mother would fret if she left Elenor’s party so soon after dinner. The two older women were inseparable and acted more like sisters than childhood chums. Still, she could not fathom one more minute of useless discourse. No matter that the latest gossip even centered on the upper echelons of government society and the Marconi scandal. To her, greedy, selfish men were not a new product. This latest faction just happened to get caught with their hand in the jar. She quickly decided to endure her mother’s wrath over the aridity of hearsay on the latest parliament disaster.
When a servant offered assistance, Felice asked for her wrap and carriage. She politely instructed the young girl that she would like to wait in the entry hall until her ride could be attained.
Markus had watched her slide from view and witnessed her exchange with Maggie, her aunt’s young maid. After receiving her cloak, the elusive woman made her way to the lavish hall. She stood next to the window while waiting for her ride to appear.
Surprising them both, Markus spoke. “Are you leaving so soon?” He inquired. He was unsure what he would say next to the lovely woman.
Caught off guard, Felice stammered, “Why, yes, I am.” She eyed the tall, lanky man. He had light brown hair and kind eyes.
“That’s a shame,” he stated, surprising himself. “I was hoping we could become acquainted.
After his comment, he blushed, and his embarrassment over his admission was not lost on Felice. The young woman smiled and bluntly asked, “Why would you be interested in someone like me? We have never met, and you know nothing about me. I could be an intolerable sort of woman. For all you know, I may even be a common crook or a heartless murderess that slays unsuspecting men in their sleep.”
Markus laughed partly at her wild tales and candor and the amusement of his uncomfortable and reckless pursuit of this intriguing woman.
Markus smiled and responded, “I am willing to take my chances. “May I offer you a drink?” He inquired, for he was lost on what he should say next.
Her laughter warmed him, but she declined his offer. “I cannot go back to that party and listen to the men try to make small talk and polite conversation. I will simply die of boredom,” she honestly confided.
Could it be true? Was this woman a kindred spirit? Did she despise chit-chat and small talk as much as he? He knew he could not let her get away now! “Well, then, may I offer you a warm brandy before you leave? It is a frosty night, and my aunt would be upset if you caught a chill. We could, however, escape the dinner party and have a drink in the library.”
Delighted and intrigued by this gentleman, She stated, “So Aunt Eleanor is your auntie too. I will take your offer of brandy, so I can get acquainted with my newfound cousin.”
Laughing, he guided Felice into the library. He was ready to battle and discredit any notions of family and cousinhood. Yet, at once, he knew their conversation would be anything but idle and senseless. And though she knew she may be out of practice, she actually looked forward to flirting with this curious man. As Markus guided Felice to the library, the two began talking at once. Smiling, the couple knew they would enjoy an exciting evening with a captivating exchange meant for two.
Flash Fiction – Writing Prompt – Write a story about a couple.
What exactly is Flash Fiction, you ask?
While the definitions vary, flash fiction maintains three distinct types of writing. But as this writing genre grows and changes, don’t quote me! Tomorrow may be a whole new ballgame. I love, love writing!
Four days. In four days, I must conjure words of thought-provoked meaning. A sweet conversation that explained just how important his existence meant to me. My younger brother, my partner in crime, had days, hours to live, and for once in my life, phrases escaped me.
Four days. In four days, I must conjure words of thought-provoked meaning. A sweet conversation that explained just how important his existence meant to me. My younger brother, my partner in crime, had days, hours to live, and for once in my life, phrases escaped me.
He calmly watched me, his eyes searching my face as he read my expression, and he understood.
“Don’t worry, Sissy,” he gently encouraged, trying to reassure me while using the pet name he used when trying to soften a difficult situation. “I will be okay.”
Jerking away from the hospital bed, I grimly stared out the window and gazed at the foothills and the Sangre De Cristo Mountain range that loomed beyond the small bluffs. White clouds hovered over the southern mountains. Wiping away the tears that formed and quietly slid down my cheeks, the mountain range’s name cut through me—Blood of Christ. Closing my eyes, I still longed for a miracle. “Please,” I inwardly begged as I implored the skies above His namesake.
Whirling around, I retorted, “I know you will be fine. But I will never be okay. I can not even fathom how bleak this world will be without you!” Selfishly, I wanted to hang on to my little anchor that always calmed my seas.
He gave a crooked smile and softly laughed and reminded me, “I was always your favorite.” Laughing, I hurried to his side and laughed, “always.”
The rest of the family left earlier in the evening. The visit had tired Dylan as he worked his magic to ease their burden at his soon-to-be departure.
When his nurse, Courtney, entered the room, she hovered over my brother. She straightened his covers and fussed. Dylan smiled at her attention. His eyes crinkled in the corners, and his handsome face glowed. At that moment, he looked so healthy and young. Life filled the room, and I smiled at my brother, wishing time would stand still once more. The nurse’s movements broke the spell, and I remembered that death lurked; time hastened. I sighed, and although I hated to leave, I walked across the room to grab my bag.
“Wait,” he called. “Stay with me until I fall asleep.”
I slid the recliner closer to his bed, eager to give him what he wanted, just like when we were kids. The nurse smiled and brought me a blanket from the closet. She started to turn off the lights as she left, but Dylan stopped her.
“Please leave on the lamp. I want to look at my sister.”
Once again, the tears began to flow, but I smiled up at him.
“Remember the island?” He questioned.
I nodded my answer.
“Remember my seagull?”
“How could I forget?” I replied. “Without a word, you suddenly jumped from the sea wall, fully clothed, and swam to a jumble of fishing line floating in the bay. It took me a minute to realize you were on a rescue mission.”
“He sure put up a fight, didn’t he?” Dylan laughed.
“Yeah, you had battle scars to prove it, and I got grounded, too, for your little stunt.”
Dylan laughed, “but it was worth it. We saved him.”
“Correction. You saved him.” I grinned. “I was just an innocent bystander.”
Dylan rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Innocent that time, maybe.”
We laughed, and Dylan yawned. In no time, his eyes closed, and he rhythmically breathed. Fear returned; I watched his chest rise and fall like the gentle crest of ocean waves on a sun-splashed day. He had reminded me of our childhood days spent together along the Alameda Shoreline as we played in the sand or ran into the chilly waters of the San Francisco Bay. As memories flooded, the sweetness wrapped around me and warmed me. In time, my peaceful sleep took hold. Soon, I rested in the comfort of my childhood dreams when siblings laughed and played and enjoyed the adventures of each new day. Death never dared to skulk among us.
The following day, Dylan pleaded to go home. He wanted to spend his final days in familiar surroundings and with Marnie, his treasured German Shepard mix. The hospital staff did not believe it would be possible. Staff members were not sure he would linger long enough with the upcoming holiday. Setting up with Hospice might take longer since the 4th of July was just days away. Still, his hospital staff rallied, and his Hospice team diligently worked to fulfill his last request.
When we arrived at his apartment, Marnie jumped and barked, happy to see her person. A volunteer wheeled him into his bedroom. A hospital bed had replaced his old one, and his nightstand held his medical supplies and medications. Once he settled into the bed, he sighed, visibly relieved to be home. He looked at me and grinned; he remarked that he needed a bell to ring when my services would be required.
“Do be a dear and fetch a bell for me sometime today,” he demanded in a terrible attempt at an English accent.
I raised my eyebrows at my sinister little brother, and he gifted me with his raucous laughter. When amused, his laugh always exploded in loud guffaws and often made those around him jump in surprise.
Jenny, his Hospice volunteer, jumped and swore like a salty sailor. Her response delighted my little brother, and we laughed at Dylan’s wickedness. Before Jenny left for the day, she gave me last-minute instructions on caring for my brother. That afternoon, my brother and I shared childhood tales as Marnie lounged on the bed with her favorite human. The day was perfect. Almost.
Although his final days grew in number, Dylan’s decline rampantly progressed.
“We need to talk,” Jenny gently stated as she touched my arm.
I glanced down at the tiny woman that showered us with her gentle spirit. Her no-nonsense attitude provided comfort; as always, her strength and determination fortified her little frame. She had just left Dylan’s bedroom and sauntered into the living room, where I stood peering out the window into the parking lot below. The buzzing from the air conditioner muted our conversation, but she motioned for me to move to the kitchen. She did not want Dylan to overhear us.
“It’s time to let him go. He is hanging on for you, ya know. He worries about your well-being after he is gone. He should not be here, but he wants to know you will be okay. So you have to let him know you will be okay.”
I dropped my head in shame; I still had not talked to him about leaving. Four days had turned into nine. Wasn’t that my miracle? Wasn’t this my gift to have more time? She saw my hesitation, and this gentle soul uttered, “He’s ready.”
I knew this. I had known since we first received the news. Cancer. Such an ugly word. When he could speak, Dylan’s faith reminded me of his courage and strength in knowing that he felt safe in his final destination, even if I were not ready for him to leave.
I responded, “I will talk to him.”
She smiled and patted my hand before leaving.
I walked into Dylan’s bedroom and sat beside his bed in the hard kitchen chair. Marnie rested at his feet. My brother had lost weight, and his face was drawn and grey. Guilt attacked and hit me as I watched his labored breathing. I knew Jenny had given him another dose of morphine for the pain. Our conversations, which I had longed for since hearing of his diagnosis, had ended the day before. My exhausted brother slept in a drug-induced coma, and I knew I had to let him go.
I took Marnie to the park across the street early the following day. Sitting on a bench under an elm tree, I watched the sunlight dance and sparkle on the leaves and branches, and I watched Marnie play in the grass.
“Soon, you will move in with your Auntie,” I whispered to the fun-loving pooch.
Sadness flared as I wondered about Marnie’s life without her beloved caregiver. Dylan’s faithful companion loved him. After saying a quick prayer, I called her and hurried back to sit beside my brother.
He still slept when I returned, and I picked up an old newspaper and settled into the kitchen chair. The small town paper reported the daily happenings, but I couldn’t concentrate on the stories. My world had stopped days ago as I stood vigil by my brother. I stretched and walked to the window, gazing at the parking lot below. I wished I could see the park and the dancing sunlight on the tree that offered a glimpse of hope. As I turned, I noticed Dylan eyeing me. He tried to smile but grimaced instead. It was time to talk.
After our final conversation, I gave my little brother one more dose of morphine. I straightened his blankets and decided to grab a cold drink of water. Crying at the kitchen sink, Marnie caught my attention. Dylan’s dog barked as she ran back and forth from the bedroom to the kitchen. At that moment, I knew Dylan was gone. Slowly, I walked into his room and slumped into the bedside chair. Marnie rested across him and softly whined.
Dylan’s labored breathing had ended. I raised my hand, stroked his cheek, and looked into his open eyes. They were the same, soft and gentle and light brown. I couldn’t close them, for I knew I would never look into his eyes again.
Weariness washed over me. Four days had lingered to ten, yet at that moment, it felt like a lifetime had passed. Then, in an instant, I broke, and grief burst like a winter squall beating violently against rocky shores. I howled like a storm-driven wind and slowly drowned in heartache. How I wished at that moment that I could sail with him on one final journey. I longed for one more childhood excursion, just two kids racing into another day full of hope, one more lingering adventure along a sandy shore.
Thinking of home, loneliness spread through him, and he longed for his family. Time away from those he loved caused him to regret his decision. More than once, the wood runner wanted to be under his own roof, with his wife and children.
“There are two lasting bequests we can give our children: One is roots, the other is wings.” Teaching children values and giving them the opportunity to excel is essential to good parenting. However, I feel I must also provide my children (and myself) insight into the ones who came before us: our ancestors whose lives and stories have shaped us into who we are. This is my journey; these are their stories…
Tales of a Family 