Posted by Mrs. Emery
From Cheyenne: Begin your prompt with the line, “Can’t you see how much this means to me?”
Write for 10 minutes. Post your piece to comments.
Posted on October 18, 2016, in Writing Prompt. Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.
“Can’t you see how much this means to me?”
He couldn’t answer, the words just wouldn’t come out. His stomach was full of butterflies and all he could do was stammer as he looked into those brown eyes that glistened like stars on a clear night. He had to fight the urge to cry.
She took his hand. It stunned him for a moment, but only for a moment. There was a sense of peace and comfort when she made the gesture.
“Don’t let me stop you,” he said finally. As much as he hated to see her go, he would hate it even more to see her unhappy. She smiled, and the butterflies came back.
“I’m gonna miss you, ya goofball,” she said shoving him playfully in the arm, which was something she did since elementary school. She stood, and with a single wave of the hand, she was gone. He was alone with his thoughts, and he could almost hear his heart strings being viciously tugged on by an unknown force called love. It didn’t make any sense. Whenever he would see someone with dark brown hair and those brown eyes, he thought of her. When he saw flowers in the spring, he thought of her. When he heard the soft sounds of music in the distance, he thought of her. Everything he did or saw somehow ended up revolving around her, but it would no longer matter because now she was gone.
That was adorable and extremely depressing at the same time… now I feel conflicted… Great job though!
“Can’t you see how much this means to me?!” I scream out into the barren space. My home away from home had been chopped into bits by corporate America. These trees were my safe place. When the tears fell from my face without halt, their roots were there to catch them all. When I smiled so hard I felt my face would fall off, the birds seemed to smile with me as they sang. When I needed to by myself and think, this is where I would go. Couldn’t they see how much this means to me?! I cry out to the barren land but all I hear back is deafening silence. There used to be the warming sound of wind through leaves and animals scurrying through the forest, but not anymore. Couldn’t they tell how much this place means to me by how I protested their every move, how I fought for each tree? I scream again as if I was screaming right at the people who took this place from me, “CAN’T YOU SEE HOW MUCH THIS MEANS TO ME!?” I sit there heartbroken waiting for a reply and I get one. The reply comes from the sound of bulldozers off in the distance. They couldn’t see how much this beautiful forest meant to me because their eyes were clouded by greed.
“Can’t you see how much this means to me?” Molly asks. It’s impossible not to. I mean with the black mascara water marks and the runny nose. Nodding I smile. I let her soak it in. She never met our Mother and Father. Well she met them, but she doesn’t remember them. She was three months when they passed tragically. I was four. So I sort of remember the walks to the ice cream truck and the giggling that came during late night Disney movie viewings that I wasn’t supposed to tell Ma about.. She felt lost, I mean we both did, but she felt robbed. When we were carted off to North Dakota to stay with Aunt Mari then continuously transferred family member to family member we lost what was supposed to be given to us. Stability, security, unconditional love. We became a burden. I have been all she has ever had. Standing on the cracked concrete path over grown with weeds we stare at the abandoned old house. Its ugly teal color with vibrant yellow trim. Ma had terrible taste. Its poorly hung porch swing with the chain on the left side being way to long. Papa was never the Fix It guy. Looking over to her I say “Are we just going to stand here and look at it all day? I swear if I drove 18 hours just to look at the outside of a house I am going to be pretty irritated…” letting out a quiet sob she gives me a smile. I must say it looked half as sweet as she thought it would look. There was snot, and tears and her face was red. She was still crying so it became a weird half smile half frown. Snorting I say “Come on water works, lets go in.”
January 18: 7-8pm EST
February 1: 7-8pm EST
Activities and Events:
January Book Discussion – January 18th
The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkein
Short Story Applications due January 26
Poetry Slam January 26 at 5pm EST
Submit a poem HERE
Current Activities and Information
CHECK OUT current participation point opportunities and TOP TEN Star Scribblers.
Becoming a Member
Interested in joining the Creative Writing Club? All current FLVS students are eligible. Click HERE to submit your application.
Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.