Posted by Mrs. Emery
From Olivia: What was your main character’s favorite childhood toy or object? Write a scene where they reminisce.
Write for 10 minutes. Post your piece to comments.
Posted on February 7, 2017, in Writing Prompt. Bookmark the permalink. 6 Comments.
Jake grew up loving science, I mean LOVING it. His room was always full of science stuff, even today at 16 years of age, he still fills his room with posters about supernovas and Newton’s laws. While he was quite reluctantly cleaning up his room today he found something that made him go back in time. His very first model of the solar system. This was no ordinary model, his dad had helped him make it before he died. It was one of those things that are so terribly made, but is still the best because of all of the memories made building it. He remembers his fathers laugh, his proud smile. Sitting on the floor that day spinning the solar system he remembered something he hadn’t in a long time. He remembered what it was like to have a father be proud of you.
Good job, Alexia 🙂
Sparkling blue tears dripped down the ridges of Carter’s cheek as she stared at the bone-shaped dog tag resting in the flesh of her palm. It used to belong to her best-friend. It used to belong to Zeus. The most unorthodox and memorable thing to ever exist in Carter’s life and heart.
Carter encountered Zeus when she was passing by Petco on her walk to a nearby Barnes and Noble. Zeus, just a small golden fleck in the corner of her eye bounced up on his hind legs and begin howling like a maniac as Carter passed by. Carter immediately bounded her feet together as she stopped walking due to the commotion the tiny golden-retriever was making and she began staring at the drooling creature as he smiled wildly at her and wagged his tale like a maniac.
The other puppies in the small kennel were too busy having an afternoon nap to care if the sweaty and tired Carter was passing by, but not Zeus. Something about the zany creature made Carter think the golden hyper-ball of fluff never took naps with his amount of playful energy.
“Would you like to adopt him?”
The question floated in the air as Carter pondered over the responsibility of having a pet. Carter was very lazy and she didn’t think she had enough energy to adopt a puppy, especially one as hyper as Zeus. But the dog’s big brown eyes staring at her while smiling caused Carter’s heart to flicker in a way it has never done before.
This thing. This strange, strange thing.
Danny held the thing in his palms. This thing. He was knee deep in nostalgia, which didn’t happen often. Rarely have his feelings been so strong for something so dumb, so…useless. This thing. This darn thing was going to make him tear up and he didn’t understand why.
Danny found himself sniffing. Every inhale damaged his chest, and every exhale was shaky. It was like an earthquake was brewing within him. It was like a deadly venom was creeping through his bloodstream. It was like a hurricane had wrapped itself around his mind. All because of this thing. He hated this thing, but he loved it all at the same time.
A bent key. A bent key you wonder. All of these emotions over a bent key. A bent key that made Danny stand knee deep in nostalgia, which didn’t happen often. A bent key that made Danny’s feelings become so strong for something so dumb. So useless. A bent key was going to make Danny tear up, and neither him, nor you understand why.
This key was not always bent. It once unlocked a door with a happy family behind it. A family that gathered around the table and laughed at the strangest things. A family that had a future in mind. A family who’s future did not follow their plans that they had in mind. A family that is now broken.
This key was not always bent, that family was not always broken, and Danny was not always knee deep in nostalgia.
Good job! I love this 🙂
It was a day like any other, sitting on the porch in the morning sunlight of an early 5am. The creak of the rocking chair reminds me of sitting here as a ten year old, feeling like my elderly granddad with old ankles to match the sound of the creak as they lifted to rock the chair. A childhood filled with many annalyzations, which has transitioned and grow exponentially since becoming an adult. I remember the specific thing that triggered this brand of thinking that would mark me through the rest of my life; the emerald flower. I remember first seeing it at age eight; I walked out onto the porch of our first barn house, basking in the 5am dew. On the banister surrounding the porch was a brown pot filled with an arrangement of odd plants. Some were made of cotton, some glass, some wire. All unique, twirly embodiment of the plants they were meant to resemble; except one. For whatever reason, to this day at the age of twenty-five I still don’t understand the reason for, the flower glowed. I mean really glowed; at 5am with little to no sun, no other plant in this pot managed to catch even a flicker of light, but this one little emerald colored plant -one I swore looked like some kind of flower- encapsulated all the light that existed in the morning time and seemed to hum a green glow.
Fascinated, I awake every morning at 5am from the age of eight to fifteen; no one ever awoke that early, and I always felt like the world was at peace during that time. The silence let me bask in the green glow every day. One year, two days before my sixteenth birthday, my mother had arised early -around 4am- to prep presents she’d hidden around the house and start wrapping. It was a Friday, and we always celebrated the Saturday of my birthday week. As a fifteen year old me looked into the emerald plant, I felt at ease, like I could resonate with this inanimate object. My mother walked onto the porch, a sight to this day she still says surprised her. She laid a hand on my shoulder, “Now, why on Earth would be here so early, my Ema?” I looked up up at her, always forgetting her hunter green eyes were as mesmerizing as what she had passed down to me -a fact I wouldn’t appreciate till later in my life. I glanced back at the plant, “I come out here to look at that middle plant, every day.” I shyly pointed to the middle emerald plant. She grinned, and smiled down at me and said, “Figures, it’s meant to represent you.” She burst into laughter then, as my look of shock that must’ve appeared on my face needed hilarious feedback. She caught herself and continued, “See how it’s the only one that glows in the morning time? In the silence of the morning? That’s because all beautiful things shine brightest when left to themselves.” I thought about it briefly in the moment, saving it for later. For years I thought about it, and sitting here now the irony is clear. I wrote my best pieces of writing out here looking at this plant, I made the biggest decisions of my life in a 5am delirium staring at this plant. And here again at 5am, this emerald flower still glows unlike anything else in the pot, while I sit here reading the letter of acceptance for my first published book.
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