Got up early to take the son to the doctor, but they cancelled on the poor kid again. Here I am with all these extra hours in my day now. Hours in which I should probably be sleeping because I start my new job with a 10 hour shift this afternoon.
What does a writer do when she has extra time in her day? I could read. I’ve been reading Anxiety Girl by Lacey London. Or, I could write. My creativity has been itching lately.
We went grocery shopping yesterday. We were walking past the school/office supplies section. I had no intention of stopping there. It wasn’t too long ago that I picked up my last notebook. (notebooks are my metaphorical shoes).
I think I heard my name. Maybe it was more like I felt my name. Sensed a presence seeking my attention. All I know is it was calling to me, and I was powerless to ignore it. I turned and looked. There, amongst the boring old everyday notebooks (all of which were on clearance) I found this little gem.
I couldn’t resist its charm. Then, I opened it up, and I knew that it was mine. Inside there are 200 pages full of writing prompts. Along with the suggested storyline, there is a list of ten words to be included somewhere in your story. What writer could resist such a fun little challenge?
Which brings us to today’s post. I have this extra time I wasn’t expecting to have today, an empty beginning of the week in my blog because I just hadn’t filled those days, a creative side with an active imagination itching to come out to play, and a brand new notebook full of writing prompts to play with. It seems pretty obvious to me.
Piccadilly told me that I should have fun with my new notebook. So. I’m going to open it up to a random page and select a writing prompt. But, for this first time, I’m going to share it with all of you. Then you can take the prompt and write your own story.
Write the story: A New Love Blooms in Old Age
Include the following in your story
►inheritance ►walk ►dust ►dapper ►husky
►squirrel ►plantation ►berry ►silk ►shovel
A New Love Blooms in Old Age
She was out for her evening walk. The sun wasn’t quite setting yet, but it was casting off the most beautiful hues of orange as it clung to the sky in its final hour. She basked in the sounds of the neighborhood.
There were children playing in yards. Their laughter carried on the air. It brought a smile to her face. She heard the distant sound of a lawnmower. The smell of fresh cut grass hung in the air. It seemed like one person came out to mow their lawn, then another would begin, and before long the entire neighborhood was freshly cut.
She loved to remember that this whole neighborhood was once a plantation. She, herself, lived in the old plantation house. It hadn’t been passed down through some beautiful inheritance story. Her late husband had bought it for a steal and moved them out of their tiny apartment in the city.
She was lost in her memories of him when a squirrel, running at full tilt, ran out in front of her as it headed for a nearby tree. Hot on its tracks was a playful husky pup. Its barks still held the sound of innocence.
She paused to watch the encounter. The puppy planted its paws on the trunk of the tree and barked playfully at the squirrel. The squirrel stood safely on a branch, shaking a fist at the dog and chittering angrily.
“Baxter, leave him be,” she heard from behind her.
She turned and found herself face to face with a tall silver-haired gentleman with crinkly brown eyes and a smile that lit up the universe. Her breath caught. The shovel in his hand bespoke of the yard work he’d been doing, but the dapper way he was dressed belied it.
She smoothed out her sundress. The cool silk beneath her fingers was centering. The bright pink berry pattern had seemed like a happy choice for a summer day. Now she felt like an old woman in a child’s dress. What had she been thinking? She patted at her coifed hair self consciously.
They fell into easy conversation as he settled in beside her. They watched as the husky pup grew bored with the squirrel. The squirrel watched wearily as the pup wandered off to sniff a tuft of grass in the neighbor’s yard.
He switched the shovel to his left and offered her his right.
“Name’s Winston,” he offered.
“Beatrice,” she shook his hand.
She brushed her hands together to knock off the dust he’d left.
“Oh sorry,” he said abashedly.
She really didn’t mind. Her husband had been a weekend gardener.
“Would you care for a glass of tea?”
She hadn’t realized how dry her throat was until that moment. She was delighted to accept his offer. He showed her to a beautiful wooden swing on his front porch and slipped inside. The husky came running from the yard. He placed his paws on the screen door and began to whimper.
“Baxter,” she cooed at him.
He bounded over and put his muddy paws on her lap.
“Oh dear. What have you been into?”
She ruffled him behind the ears. He leaned into her attentions. He awkwardly lapped at her wrist. She lifted him into her lap. His claws caught and pulled at the silk of her dress, but she didn’t care.
He was showering her face with kisses. She hadn’t had a dog since she was a young girl. She was halfway in love with Baxter already.
“Looks like you’ve found a new friend,” Winston observed.
“Isn’t he just perfect?”
“Don’t be silly. I couldn’t just take your dog.”
“Actually, he’s the last of a litter, and I’ve been looking for a home for him.”
“Really?” she sounded like that little girl who’d once owned a dog.
“Honest,” he held up the two fingers of the boy scout promise.
She nuzzled the puppy against her cheek. He nipped at her chin.
“What do you think, Baxter? Do you want to come home with me?“
Now it’s your turn to write a story based on A New Love Blooms in Old Age then post your links in the comments section.
Enjoy reading Tiffany’s stories?
If you enjoy reading Tiffany’s stories, you can show your support with a one-time, monthly, or yearly donation to support her work.
I earn nothing from purchases made through links on this site [except royalties for my own books]