Writing Prompt!

From Natalie: Write about your character describing his/her mother.

Write for 10 minutes. Post your piece to comments.


Posted on March 3, 2016, in Writing Prompt. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Mother had this distinct green color to her iris; there weren’t sparkling emeralds like most books would fool you into believing. They were a willow green, aged with stories and memories. They looked like they held such vast knowledge of her life; like looking at them would spoil her story and maybe even yours. However her eyes were not what made me think of her as a giver; it’s her hands that give you that premise. She has short but delicate fingers, plump enough to be gentle. Whenever she cleaned up my wounds I’d never even feel the obvious calluses from years of clacking away at a keyboard. Despite the outside hardness, her hands are always used for helpful nature. She dropped her book then, glancing up at me with her ample cheeks and subtle jaw; she always knew when I was studying her. Those willow branch eyes of hers sent a snark across the air; no stories from them today.

  2. She smelled of raspberries and ice. Her robes were soft, like the silken fur of a pup. She walked swiftly down the corridors of our castles, reminding me of my earliest memories of her. I ducked into a room as she passed. She had never been a fan of her cursed child. Her blind child with pure black hair while hers is golden like the sun. Her violet eyed child who does not hold any resemblance to her parents or siblings. The child who needs help with everything because she is blind.
    “Camari,” her voice, rough with age, called. “Come to me child. I wish to speak with you.”
    I stepped out from the room, Creed’s head sticking out, her ears back and her belly to the floor. The other’s had chosen to stay in my room, fearing the harsh woman as I did. I stumbled and she grabbed my arm, carefully pulling me up. Her skin had become wrinkled like a prune. One would not guess her young age, instead assuming her old.
    “My child,” she whispered. “I fear I have done wrong by you. I have been given time to think upon my actions while you were gone. I missed your presence. You were always a light hearted child despite your disabilities. You and that wolf would roam the halls if you remember. How I miss those days… I wish you would come home though I know you will not. Please. Give me your forgiveness before my wrinkled, sickly state gets the worse of me.”
    “Mother,” I pressed myself against her, surprised by how her arms went around me and she stroked my head, her chin on my head. “I never blamed you to begin with. I have missed you. I cannot come home but I promise I will write of my adventures. Not to worry you but to reassure you.”
    Her wrinkled hands cupped my face. “I would quiet enjoy that. What is it you look for?”
    I let out a little laugh. “How I’ve been asked that question? Still a question without an answer however.”
    “You will do fine.” I could feel the smile pulling up on her lips. I wanted to look upon her. Even just once. I wanted to look at the woman who suddenly loved me and see if she spoke the truth. For now I would just trust her. For now I will just leave believing my mother finally accepted me. For now I will let myself love her how I have always wished.

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