Hello again everyone! It's that time again. Are you feeling like your thoughts come up blank? Can't get that pen to paper... This writing prompt may just help you out! It's a fun and short one today since I'm strapped for time.
Prompt Four
Finish this thought and create the rest of the story. A paragraph or two long, make sure it's concise.
He turned the key in the lock and opened the door. To his horror, he saw...
My response...
He turned the key in the lock and opened the door. To his horror, he saw the back end of some man hovering over his daughter. In shock, he stood in the doorway, trying to grasp what the hell was going on. Realizing that his daughter was being mauled by her teenage boyfriend, he lunged for the bare assed brat.
"What the hell!" Maggie, his sixteen year old daughter exclaimed, clutching the sheet to her chest. Thank god for the sheet, he thought to himself. The look on her face was mortification and her creeks were a deep red delicious.
"Get the fuck out of my house." He yelled, picking up the young boys pants and throwing them at his face. The boy stumbled on his not so graceful exit but it hardly mattered. The damage was done and life would never be the same.
He could never look at his baby girl in the eyes again. She was a woman now, at the young age of sixteen. It wasn't fair! He crumbled to the ground, his face in his hands, tears streaming down his face.
"Why, Maggie?" He cried out, stuck in a state of disbelief. The room was silence except for both of their loud cries.
"What's going on here?" His wife asked, walking into the war zone unknowing the bomb that just exploded in the entire families face.
Great prompt and love your response. Will get to work on mine.
ReplyDeleteThanks Rochelle! I can't wait to see what you write.
DeleteWell done. As a father of four girls, this is flat out terrifying. So is mine. For a different reason. Here you go...
ReplyDeleteHe turned the key in the lock and opened the door. To his horror, he saw nothing. Not a damn thing. The furniture was gone. All of it. The plush suede couch, the recliner, the end tables, television cabinet, DVR and Blue Ray player, dining room table and chairs, the pure oak, one hundred year-old hutch (how in the hell did she manage that one?).
It took a good thirty seconds before he realized he was standing on plywood. The fucking carpet? Seriously? Even the baseboards? How in God’s name?
He felt as if he walked into a renovation job. At that moment, he knew. His became as brittle as glass and his blood ran cold. No. Not that.
With stiff legs and a rapidly increasing heartbeat, he crept into the kitchen. He hung his head like a teen caught watching porn. Everything was jammed in here like some life-sized game of Tetris. The couch, with the ottoman and two end tables on its cushions, guarded the fridge. The hutch was parked in front of the pantry. In between both were the rest of the great room’s belongings.
Before he even saw the note taped to the fireplace, he knew. He grabbed the paper, closed his eyes, and sighed. Finally, he read the words he’d been dreading.
“Laying the hardwood down is easy, honey. It’s the prep work that takes the time and effort we don’t have.”
Sound familiar, sweetheart? The kids and I will be back tomorrow night. That should be plenty of time to lay down our new bamboo floor. Oh, and since it’s such an easy job, you should be able to put everything back. Right?
Love you.
Awesome, Steve. Thanks for trying it out. I can honestly say I had no idea where your story was going to lead as I read it. It was really cool. Love the ending, too!
DeleteThanks, Taylor. It was a spur of the moment thing. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Great prompt, btw. Write on.
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