Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt: May 14, 2018

 

OPENING LINE(S): “I’m not going to let you drown,” he said, spitting out salted water. His/Her/My limbs felt like sinking lead in the water but the stranger’s grip on his/her/my collar was more than enough to keep them/us afloat. Solid ground was just in the distance promising safety, explaining why they’d/ I’d jumped in the water in the first place was another problem in and of itself. 

RULES: 

  • Using the above line and the picture provided, (Or a line of your own choosing) create a story (or even a poem) within up to 20 minutes.
  • Once you have finished your super awesome masterpiece, add a link in the comments section of THIS POST to your story for others to read, as well as a link on your page back to this original post for others to follow along and write with as well. In your “tags” section, add the tag “MondayMuse.”
  • To get the Above Image follow this LINK

If you do not have a blog of your own, leave me a comment and send me an email to icameforthesoup@gmail.com and I will post your lovely words here on my blog.

(PLEASE KEEP ENTRIES THAT NEED TO BE POSTED ON THIS SITE WITHIN A PG13 RANGE. THANK YOU.)

*Originally posted on June 13, 2016

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

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Dinner Plans: Short Story by Candice Coates

Dinner Plans

She sat perched on the edge of the table, the tight fold of her interwoven fingers expressed the nervousness that had been concealed in the even tone of her voice and the placid look on her face. Turning fully towards her, he paid closer attention to what she was saying. 

For a brief second he hoped he’d heard her incorrectly, but gazing into her eyes he knew he hadn’t been mistaken. “Hannah, you didn’t.” He, unlike Hannah, didn’t try to hide his nerves, they flashed in the pale grey of his eyes and radiated clear to the tip of the butcher knife in his hand.

“Dad, the knife. The knife!” Hannah hoped off the table and pried it from his hands placing the parsley coated blade on the chopping block. Tanner wondered by her sudden stillness if she felt as if she were on the chopping block. He was certain she did. He had asked her to be at her best tonight, nagged really, and had been doing so for weeks.

It had been eight years since Claire, Hannah’s adoptive mother, died. He and  Claire had only been married for a little over three years. They’d dated for two. When he’d first met Claire he hadn’t thought he was ready to be a father, but Hannah warmed to him so quickly and got into his pores like the best of anointing oils. He loved the girl on sight as if she were his own flesh and blood.

Now she was barely twenty and he felt as if she were his whole life, his precious little girl…his precious little girl who’d gone against his wishes and had been secretly meeting with her birth mother.

He rubbed his suddenly damp forehead with the back of his hand. His gut felt as if it were filled with gravel. He was already extremely nervous about introducing Hannah to the new woman in his life. He needed Hannah to like her. He’d already purchased an engagement ring even in the face of awkwardness.

Hannah had made it clear she had no desire for a new mother and had not been a fan of his dating someone. He suddenly wondered if her going against his wishes and finding her birth mother was a simple act of rebellion. He also wondered if his hopefully soon-to-be financee was having similar problems of her own.

She had mentioned that she had been estranged from her daughter for years but they were making headway into a healthy relationship. She too had wondered how her daughter would react to him.

“I can’t believe you did this, Hannah.” Tanner whispered.

“Dad, why is it such a horrible thing that I want to know my own mother?”

“Your birth mother.” He corrected, suddenly feeling as if he needed to defend Claire’s right-hood to the title ‘Mom’. Hannah rolled her eyes. He touched her shoulder. “Honey, I am not trying to make this a difficult thing for you, I am just worried is all. She may not be good for you.”

“Us, you mean. You’re afraid that she will wreck your plans for a new family, aren’t you?”

He couldn’t resist frowning. “And I suppose that is why you not only contacted her, but then invited her to dinner tonight when you know how important today is for me, for us.” He wiped his brow again. He was already nervous, now he was just petrified.

What if the strange woman showed up at the door, right when his new love did? “Lord help me. Hannah, I love her. And I want you to at least give her a chance. I just want things to go smoothly tonight and if she shows up-”

Hannah took a bite of parsley. “It doesn’t matter anyway Dad. I invited her and she said she couldn’t make it, said she had a date or something.”

“Well, that is a relief that that person won’t be coming,” Why had he suddenly turned so territorial, defensive? He’d seen this behavior in characters in movies, but never thought it would happen to him; jealous of his daughter’s birth mother.

Hannah scowled. “Her name is–”

Ding dong! The front door rang, bringing the conversation to a halt. Again, Hannah rolled her eyes. It was going to be a long night.

“Going to get it, Dad? Wouldn’t want to keep your beloved waiting.” Hannah’s tone was laced with sarcasm and void of the former nervousness that had ruled her demeanor just moments ago.

He gave her a warning gaze before pulling the door open. Right then Hannah continued her previous statement, her tone shifting to shock that laced over Tanner’s joy right as his beloved passed the threshold and entered the apartment. “Her name is…Beatrix?”

Hannah’s face bloomed with a smile as she rushed forward and took hold of her birth-mother’s hands, jerking Beatrix’s delighted gaze away from Michael’s. “I thought you said you couldn’t make it tonight! I thought…you said you had,” Hannah’s gaze shifted between the ashen expression on Beatrix’s face to the even more stricken look on her Dad’s. “…a date…”

THE END…AT LEAST FOR US

I hope you enjoyed what came of this story and the twist at the end. I wish I could have sharpened it up a bit more, but alas we do have a time restraint. I do however wish Dad, Hannah and Beatrix the best of joy and a happy future 🙂 These are my results from MONDAY’S MUSE WRITING PROMPT APRIL 30, 2018.

*Revised post from October 22, 2015.

~Dream. Image. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt: April 30th 2018

OPENING LINE (S): “She sat perched on the edge of the table, the tight fold of her interwoven fingers expressed the nervousness that had been concealed in the even tone of her voice and the placid look on her face. Turning fully towards her, s/he paid closer attention to what she was saying.”

RULES: 

  • Using the above line and the picture provided, (Or a line of your own choosing) create a story (or even a poem) within up to 20 minutes.
  • Once you have finished your super awesome masterpiece, add a link in the comments section of THIS POST to your story for others to read, as well as a link on your page back to this original post for others to follow along and write with as well. In your “tags” section, add the tag “MondayMuse.”
  • To get the Above Image follow this LINK

If you do not have a blog of your own, leave me a comment and send me an email to icameforthesoup@gmail.com and I will post your lovely words here on my blog.

(PLEASE KEEP ENTRIES THAT NEED TO BE POSTED ON THIS SITE WITHIN A PG13 RANGE. THANK YOU.)

*Originally posted on October 19, 2015

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Turning Point: Flash Fiction Results For Monday’s Muse Nov 30th 2015

Turning Point

Heat spread across my cheeks as Mama turned and gave me that look, the one that said, ‘Don’t make me turn this car around, mister.’ I choked on the angry retort that tickled my tongue and drew my clenched fist beneath my thighs in an attempt not to hit my sister, Harriet, across the back of her head.

Harriet snickered. 

She always seemed to find humor in making every waking day of my life miserable. Sure we had our laughs every now and again, but mostly it was war; war waged on me by the villainous troll that my parents had spent the last six years trying to convince me was actually my sister and not some rotten changeling that had crept in from the forest.

Changlings did that, came in and made people believe they were someone they were not. I read about it once in a comic, so it’s true alright. Harriet didn’t fool me. But Mama and Daddy, they were goners.

They would learn the truth one day. I would show them. But for now, it was obvious that they were too hypnotized by bouncy curls and rosy cheeks to see anything other than the enemy they tucked in at night.

So it was settled. I was going to make my escape and then show them all the truth later. My bags were already packed to go. I am going to become a changling.

Becoming a changling usually required that a kid be kidnapped and swapped out by the changling gang. I read that too somewhere.

Living in the forest wouldn’t be so bad. I loved climbing trees and creek fishing, and I could definitely do without having to stare at Mrs. Beezly another day. Life at nine was hard enough as it was let alone having to look at her all afternoon.

The only problem that I did have was not being rotten enough for them to change me out. I always managed to get the threatening look from Mama but I had never had the guts to cross…that line…never had the moxy…never…

WHACK! Cathunk!

“HENRY!” Mama screamed at me as the car yanked over to the side of the road spitting gravel, my guilty hand still raised in the air. Harriet was wailing like a stuck pig. She was going to have a nice knot where her forehead kissed that side window.

The shocked look in her eyes made my stomach burn as Mama actually whipped the car around and directed it toward home. Home and my future as a changling.

Far as I could see it, I’d earned my place today. I even managed to snicker. It was a real turning point.

THE END

These are my results for Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt May 23rd, 2018, originally posted on December 3rd, 2015.

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt: April 23rd 2018

OPENING LINE (S): “Heat spread across my cheeks as Mama turned and gave me that look, the one that said, Don’t make me turn this car around, missy/mister.’ I choked on the angry retort that tickled my tongue and drew my clenched fist beneath my thighs in an attempt not to hit my sister Harriet across the back of her head. Harriet snickered. 

RULES: 

  • Using the above line and the picture provided, (Or a line of your own choosing) create a story (or even a poem) within up to 20 minutes.
  • Once you have finished your super awesome masterpiece, add a link in the comments section of THIS POST to your story for others to read, as well as a link on your page back to this original post for others to follow along and write with as well. In your “tags” section, add the tag “MondayMuse.”
  • To get the Above Image follow this LINK

If you do not have a blog of your own, leave me a comment and send me an email to icameforthesoup@gmail.com and I will post your lovely words here on my blog.

(PLEASE KEEP ENTRIES THAT NEED TO BE POSTED ON THIS SITE WITHIN A PG13 RANGE. THANK YOU.)

*Originally posted on November 30th, 2015

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

 

What He Said: Flash Fiction Results for Monday’s Muse August 15th, 2016

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What He Said: Flash Fiction

It was just one interview, one, and yet she felt as if she were trapped in a room filled with flashing camera’s and buzzard-like reporters, all out to take their bite at her. 

Really, she was all alone in an empty cafe, a stupid ball cap squeezing her head a scarf wrapped around her neck like a noose with Lyle in front of her.

Lyle Ready was the head editor for an indie publication that had been gaining a lot of traction lately. Emory couldn’t have cared less about his work, truth was she hardly knew him. Actually, she only knew him through a lost acquaintance. That acquaintance being the girlfriend of her ex’s brother.

Her name was Wren, Wren Ready. Wren was  a sweet girl who Emory owed a huge favor to, and as fate would have it, Wren’s older brother needed a big push in order to take his craft to the next level.

Of course, Wren called Emory. What had been her words, “Hey, lady. you need to clear your name. You need an unbiased platform to do that on and Lyle has that platform. Talk to him. Tell him your side of things. It will be like killing three birds with one stone; you will have cleared your name, Lyle will get a greater boost for business and I will free you from your debt. It’s a win-win-win! At least that’s what he said, and I happen to agree. Lyle that is, that’s what Lyle said.”

At the sound of Lyle’s surprising baritone voice, Emory snapped out of her mental drifting. His caramel eyes stared widely into hers expecting an answer.

Emory ran her finger’s between the noose-scarf and her throat. It’s only one interview. “Sorry, can you repeat the question?” She gave him a half smile, noticed the caramel of his eyes darken a bit before he jotted down a few words in his notebook.

Emory read them upside down but she got the gist of what he’d written. Throat going dry she took a long gulp of the glass of water beside her. He’d basically written that she was too flakey to have done what she was being accused of…at least in his estimation. He’d also said that she was a classic beauty.

She shrugged her shoulders. She was innocent, but at least someone else had come to that conclusion and used his own words. She also appreciated being called beautiful.

THE END

*These are my results for Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt, August,15th, 2016. Follow the link to see the original post with rules and give the prompt a try yourself or share it with a writer friend!

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

It Was A Start: Flash Fiction Results for Monday’s Muse May 9th 2016

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It Was a Start

He glanced at his watch and choked on a nervous knot. He was already running late and yet he’d still not written a thing. They were just simple words, should have been and yet his mind remained as blank as the page before him.

How in the world did a man who had been forced into the ‘friend-zone’ by his own request, tell the woman he’d kept at arms length that he was madly in love with her?

Acknowledging that truth, chewing on it in that moment with the same bite that he put to his pencil made his palms sweat.

He loved her. He loved her beyond fleeting feelings and lies that potential partners often told each other just to make a good ‘sale.’ No. he genuinely loved her. The thought of not being with her, not being able to hold her hand or taste her rosy lips made his heart ache.

He was oh so curious to find out what Grape jelly Pizzaz lip balm tasted like.

He’d even found himself imagining a starter home in the burbs with a dog called Rocket and a little girl that had her freckles. He felt like a sap, but a determined sap.

What was  a relationship if it wasn’t founded on friendship?

Odd, how he’d spent so much time praying the Lord would send him the ‘one,’ when all the while she was right there, across the hall in apartment 8. They’d known each other for almost a decade, met in youth group.

Well, she was the youth at sixteen, he was the too cool for his own good twenty-year-old youth leader.

It wasn’t until their paths crossed four years ago that they’d started being friends, real friends. Then she dropped the news about her teenage crush, one that had followed her to that moment.

He gently shut her down, still seeing her as the girl who sat in the back of the room with the oversized hoodie and black frame glasses, and a messy bun on top of her head.

She’d agreed to be friends, just friends when he pestered her into it. She’d begun to avoid him, but something in him wouldn’t let that stand. He needed to be her friend. He realized he was being selfish.

But he truly enjoyed her company. He simply liked her, but now he more than liked her. He wanted to give her all the things she desired in life, laughter and joy, happily ever after.

He wasn’t even a romantic that way, but somehow between laundry nights, cartoons on lazy Saturday mornings and conversations about each other’s work days, he’d grown deep roots for her.

Glancing at his watch again, he blew out a breath and put the pencil to the paper praying that his words would be enough. He wrote her name in all caps, followed by a comma and simply began with ‘I love you’.

It was a start.

THE END

* I hope you enjoyed my results for Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt, May 9th, 2016. To read the original prompt with rules, and even give it a try yourself, you can do so by following this LINK.

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt: May 9th 2016

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OPENING LINE (S): “He glanced at his watch and choked on a nervous knot. He was already running late and yet he’d still not written a thing. They were just simple words, should have been and yet his mind remained as blank as the page before him.”

RULES: 

  • Using the above line and the picture provided, (Or a line of your own choosing) create a story (or even a poem) within up to 20 minutes.
  • Once you have finished your super awesome masterpiece, add a link in the comments section of this post to your story for others to read, as well as a link on your page back to this original post for others to follow along and write with as well. In your “tags” section, add the tag“Monday’s Muse.”

If you do not have a blog of your own, leave me a comment and send me an email to icameforthesoup@gmail.com and I will post your lovely words here on my blog.

(PLEASE KEEP ENTRIES THAT NEED TO BE POSTED ON THIS BLOG WITHIN A PG13 RANGE. THANK YOU)

My results will be posted by Thursday.

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt: April 25th 2016

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OPENING LINE (S): “S/He wished he would pour faster. The cold had already seeped down into his/her marrow making her/him tremble. Part of her/him felt like the trembling was more from anger. S/He hated that s/he was helpless from the fall and hated more that he was the one who came to help her/him.”

RULES: 

  • Using the above line and the picture provided, (Or a line of your own choosing) create a story (or even a poem) within up to 20 minutes.
  • Once you have finished your super awesome masterpiece, add a link in the comments section of this post to your story for others to read, as well as a link on your page back to this original post for others to follow along and write with as well. In your “tags” section, add the tag“Monday’s Muse.”

If you do not have a blog of your own, leave me a comment and send me an email to icameforthesoup@gmail.com and I will post your lovely words here on my blog.

(PLEASE KEEP ENTRIES THAT NEED TO BE POSTED ON THIS BLOG WITHIN A PG13 RANGE. THANK YOU)

My results will be posted by Thursday.

Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt: February 8th 2016

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OPENING LINE (S): “I didn’t care what anyone had to say. She deserved it, every icy, pin-pricking sting that hit her face and made her stupid blouse crinkle. I especially enjoyed the way her glasses sat eschew on the bridge of her nose, a nose that was begging me to sock her one.”

RULES: Using the above line and the picture provided, (Or one of your own choosing) create a story (or even a poem) within up to 20 minutes. Once you have finished your super awesome masterpiece, add a link in the comments section of this  post to your story for others to read, as well as a link on your page back to this original post for others to follow along and write with as well. In your “tags” section, add the tag “Monday’s Muse.”

If you do not have a blog of your own, leave me a comment and send me an email to icameforthesoup@gmail.com and I will post your lovely words here on my blog.

(PLEASE KEEP ENTRIES THAT NEED TO BE POSTED ON THIS BLOG WITHIN A PG13 RANGE. THANK YOU)

My results will be posted on Thursday February 11th under the FICTION tab, then the WRITING PROMPTS AND EXERCISES, then MY WRITING PROMPT RESULTS.