Prompt 29

“The meanest thing anyone has ever said to you”

I pride myself in ensuring that I am surrounded by wonderful and kind people in my life. I have little patience for people who enjoy being mean to others.

As such, the meanest thing that I remember being said to me, or at least the one that had the most impact, was in highschool.

There was a boy. Of course there was a boy. And I liked this boy. He was a couple of grades ahead of me and we were working on the same play. Him onstage, me behind the scenes.

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Prompt 13

 

“You have just swallowed your pride and done something you didn’t want to do. Your friend wants to know why. The two of you are driving around an almost-full parking garage looking for a space for the friend’s oversized pickup. Write the scene.”

Lucas kept glancing over at me as he was driving us around in that massive pickup of his father’s, disapproval emanating from him like a dull, repelling heat.

He was right to disapprove, of course he was right. I wasn’t too happy with myself either at this point. If I’m honest, I knew I could have said no. I knew deep down that I didn’t really have to join Casey and Clara in spray-painting Mr. Teeger’s house last night, I had gone against everything I thought I stood for in doing that. But I really, really wanted to fit in.

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Prompt 10

 

“The long-lost roommate”

She hadn’t seen Lisa in over a decade; since graduation, really. Beth was having a hard time imagining what she might look like after all this time. Would the years have been kind to her? Or would they have taken a few choice moments to break her spirit a little, just as they had with Beth?

Beth was sitting in what Lisa had termed her ‘favourite spot for a good cappuccino and the best biscotti in town’ in their e-mail exchange the previous week. She looked around the place, trying to get a sense of her boarding school roommate from the coffee shop’s decor and music.

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Prompt 9

 

“Describe your best friend”

My best friend is honest. She’s a person that doesn’t hesitate to tell me what she thinks about what I’m up to. She’s also honest about who she is, and I’ve been lucky enough to have been entrusted with different pieces and views of her.

She is my literary companion. Not only that; she is also my literary muse. I aspire to be able to read as much as she does. And there are multiple occasions where I have read a book or a poem just to be able to talk to her about it. Ishiguro, Murakami, Neruda, Dumas, are all authors that I have gotten to know a little bit better due to her encouragement. I still have to catch up. I’m way behind on Cortazar, for instance, but I know she’ll never have an issue offering a new literary world for me to discover.

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