Writing Prompt by Cheyenne

You’re in a coffee shop when the door chime shakes. Who walks in?

Write for 10 minutes. Post your piece to comments.


Posted on January 28, 2014, in Writing Prompt. Bookmark the permalink. 5 Comments.

  1. I looked up from my book in my lap. There was a new customer walking through the door. I stood up and put on a smile. “H-Hello,” I stammered. The person glanced at me, but he started to make his way towards the counter. He looked distracted, so I didn’t speak.
    “I will have a vanilla bean frappe. Okay?” he ordered.
    “O-Okay,” I said softly.
    I grabbed my card and swiped it, pressing the digital buttons to put down his order.
    “What s-size?” I asked.
    “Whatever size. I don’t care,” he replied.
    I nodded and put him down for a medium. Most people got mediums. I didn’t say another word.
    The man cleared his throat.
    “Are you Kiyan de Mitana?” he asked. I jerked my head up in surprise. ‘He knows my name?’ I thought. I chewed my lower lip before nodding slowly. The man let a sly smirk cross his face. He pulled out a slip of paper, sliding it across the counter towards me. “Call me,” he said. I frowned, wondering why this odd man wanted me to call him. My little cat ears twitched in annoyance. The man reached out and patted the top of my head, pushing my feet against the floor. I let a childish pout cross my face, and the man chuckled.
    “You’re still the same Kiyan. Ah, you haven’t changed,” the man said.
    “T-That will be fi-five dollars and t-ten ce-cents,” I said, “sir.”
    The man held out a shiny card, and my eyes widened in surprise. On the side, it said Raymond del Futtana. I knew who this was now. I took the card in a shaky hand and swiped it. I watched as the computer thought for a moment. The card was accepted, and I handed it over to Raymond del Futtana.
    “H-Have a go-good day, s-sir,” I stammered.
    “You’ll see me later.”
    That’s when the strange man left.

    I pondered his visit later while I was closing up my coffee shop. I put my apron down on the counter. The tell-tale bell rang again, and I looked up in surprise. The sign said the coffee shop was closed, but I hadn’t turned off the lights or closed the door yet. It was the same man again.
    “C-Can I help y-you?” I asked softly.
    “I guess you can,” he said.
    He quickly strode over and grabbed my collar, lifting my feet off the ground. I gasped softly. The man smirked, looking into my eyes.
    “You remember me now?” he asked.
    “Y-Yes,” I replied.
    “Why aren’t you fighting me then?” he snapped.
    “B-Because, sir, your ki-kitty has ch-changed,” I replied.
    The man dropped my abruptly. He tsked at me, rolling his eyes.
    “Pah, what type of ‘kitty’ are you to leave your master?” he asked, looking at the menu boards.
    “A…A smart one,” I replied.
    I saw an opening past the man and smiled slightly. “H-Have a good d-day,” I said, waving at him. My old master yelped as I dashed by him, escaping him. I pulled out the golden key that locked my shop and stuck it in the lock. I turned it to the right and locked Raymond del Futtana inside. I glanced at the looming white library up ahead. I gulped. The head librarian wouldn’t be pleased. She wouldn’t be pleased at all.

  2. The president. you are suddenly overwhelmed with excitement and you look like a nervous wreck. You have no idea what to do but let out a small, “EEP!” The president then says hello. No doubt in your mind, you know he just said your name, but you can’t believe it. A million thoughts come to your mind. Why is the president in Florida? How does he know my name? Am I in trouble? Am I in danger and the president has come with personal bodyguards for me? Do I look presentable? Then all of a sudden, he comes and sits at your booth. More thoughts. Should I leave? Should I stay? Why is he in THIS diner? Why is he in MY booth? What is going on? All you can do is wait. Wait for a sign? Wait for Someone to say this is a joke? Wait for the president to say he is the doppleganger from vine? Wait for yourself to realize it’s a dream and none of this is even happening. Then you realize. I’m not a big fan of the president. Why would I be dreaming about him. That’s when you realize it isn’t a dream. You sit up straight, try to fix your hair, swallow the rest of the food in your mouth, and say, “Hello, sir.” More thoughts. You close your eyes and hope for the best. Why did I keep him waiting so long? Am I the worst person ever? Can this end? Then the president lets you know everything is okay. He knows you. You met when you were little, before he was even known as running for president. Turns out, he’s an old family friend. He asks about the family, and just as he said he’s a family friend, he asked about Grandpa Will, Aunt Maggie, Cousin Philip and everyone else. Turns out he’s just a normal guy handling America’s work. In the end, you realize he’s not the big person who you MUST be perfect in front of, but just like any other older man, just trying to help out the U. S. A.

  3. I’m not good at continuing stories but there it is!

  4. I looked up from my cash register as soon as the door chimed. In walked a man with a black suit and a hat on. He wore dark sunglasses that covered his face. I shivered and pulled back a strand of my long blonde hair from my face.
    “Welcome to the Koffee Korner!” I smiled. The man ignored my welcome and walked up.
    “I want a mocha latte. Have you seen a woman wearing a shiny black jacket with jet black hair?” he asked me. I gave him a puzzled look.
    “I haven’t seen any woman like that. Your mocha will be right out,” I said while swiping his credit card. “May I see your ID, please?” The man seemed hesitant at this, but he finally let me see it. Something odd was going on, I could tell. I looked at his ID and memorized the name: Fredrick Smith. I gave him his latte and he went to sit down. I noted where he chose his booth. He chose the booth in the corner farthest from the door and in a spot where he could not easily be seen.
    Then, the door chimed again. This time, in walked in a woman in a shiny black jacket. She had black hair and wore large sunglasses, just like the man. She must have been the woman that Fredrick was looking for. She walked up to the cash register.
    “Welcome to the Koffee Korner! What can I get for you today?” I asked her.
    “Nothing, thank you. I am just here to meet someone,” she said.
    “Yes, a man the man in the black suit is over there in the corner waiting for you,” I told her. She looked shocked that I knew and then walked over to sit down with the man. I followed them.
    “Can I get you anything?” I asked. The man glared at me. I watched as he desperately tried to hide something in his jacket. I saw it and saw that it was an FBI badge. This man was an FBI agent.

    I hope that you enjoyed it!

  5. A middle-aged man walked into the café, huddled over himself. He slid into an empty chair at the farthest table. He had a nervous air about him, constantly shifting, and glancing towards the cashier counter. Something was familiar about him, but then again, I had met nearly every person living in Covington.
    He noticed my once-too-many stares, and signaled for me. What did he want?
    Motioning for me to sit, he surveyed me. This was getting ridiculous. Either talk to me, or I’ll kick you out.
    “Look, sir, I have a job to do. Now, if you don’t order something, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. The lunch rush–”
    He stared me in the eyes. “You look just like her.”
    Rubbing his forehead, he leaned closer to me. “I never thought I’d see you again, Trevor.” I wasn’t even wearing my name tag; I’d forgotten it at my apartment.
    “What are you talking about? I don’t even know you.” This man was verging on crazy.
    “Trevor, I…I’m your father.”
    I jumped up from the table so fast, I knocked the chair over. “My father’s dead. Died in a fire nineteen years ago. Who are you?”
    He removed his hat, and I saw the scar running horizontally across the top of his head. Dad’s hockey accident.

    Timer up! Still trying to get faster in ten minutes…my wp10m in NaNoWriMo last year was under 300 (I need to stop editing myself…). Sorry I had to stop here!

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