Category Archives: Daily Prompts

Daily Prompts

A Normal Day…Great…

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Sun bathing on the beach in a cute new suit. I have nothing to do; I am now a carefree person. I just want to live in this exact spot and never move. I feel the warmth from the  sand as I trickle it through my fingers. It cascades back down onto itself. I hear the waves brushing against the coast. Its soothing sound makes me want to sleep forever. I am at peace…

“What time is it?” curious because I never have beautiful dreams. My hand stumbles around in search of my phone: my source of time, but it is also my alarm. I must have slept very well last night that I am waking up before it goes off. “That is awesome!” I think about giving myself a pat on my back.

Success, I found my phone. Pulling it close to my face as I gaze at it, I read…7:15 A.M….

“WHAT!?! My alarm didn’t go off. I am going to be late!” I push back the covers and sprint to the bathroom….but I can’t take a shower. I don’t have time. I have to be in class in twenty minutes. “Great. Today I will smell bad.”

Instead I head downstairs to waken myself with the best part of my morning…coffee…

“WHAT!?!” it’s all gone. “Why family did you need all the coffee?” shaking my fist at the ceiling. Thankfully they are all gone, because of this…”AHHHHHH!” I scream out of frustration. “Now I will have to make some. At least mom bought the pot that only takes six minutes to brew. Thank you Mom.”

My brain is cursing at me, because it needs its coffee. I am going to die…coffee…cabinets…must find coffee…coff…

“WHAT!?!” No grounds! No beans! No nothing. I want to cry….

Well screw this. Now I only have twelve minutes to get ready without my beautiful coffee. “This is going to be the worst day ever…”

Stumbling back upstairs to change clothes,“Well at least I get to wear a cute outfit with my new jacket at school. All my friends will be jealous. Where is it?” I was smart and prepared it yesterday, so I won’t have to think of what to wear. Destroying my room I pull up every piece of clothing more than once…”Where is it? I put in on my chair next to my bed…

Instead of my amazing jacket and outfit, there lies a paper…a note…from mom…

“Honey, I sent your jacket and clothes to the dry-cleaners because, don’t get mad, I spilled my coffee on them. So for it to not get ruined I rushed all of it there for you. I’m sorry my sweetheart. Mom.”

…”AHHHHH! WHY!?!” tearing up that paper with all of my anger so I don’t do something I will regret.

I throw on whatever, because I don’t care anymore. I smell terrible, no beautiful coffee, and now no cute outfit…great… I look like a nomad…with my sweatpants, striped shirt, crocks for shoes (because I can’t find my tennis shoes…), and a scarf swallowing up my face. Hopefully it hides my identity…

I have eight minutes to get to school, at least it only takes me six. “Oh right! I forgot!” recalling the new CD I purchased yesterday. “At least I get to listen to this great music on the worst day ever.” I gather up my backpack, my older brother’s puffy jacket (its cold outside, and the CD. Push the garage door open…

“WHAT!?!” my car is gone! I run to the front in search of my car. It’s nowhere to be seen. “The keys…they should be in the garage…” sprinting back to the door.

A note…from dad…

“Dear Lizzy, I am sorry for not telling you this before, but I need your car. The mechanic called and they accidentally put the wrong part in your car. I should have woken you up, but you looked so peaceful I didn’t want to disturb you. Love Dad.”

…”Nooooo!” I grab my gear together and I run towards school. Now with only five minutes to go I am for sure going to be late. “Whatever…”

I can’t breathe…gasping for air, but it seems like there is no air in my vicinity…Everything is blurry and now I smell like sleep sweat and sweat sweat…I’ll make sure to stay hidden today. I am late; therefore, I have to do the sad walk to the office to receive my pass to my class.

“I need a pass…” thankfully they were too busy to acknowledge my outfit and hopefully my smell. I trudge through the halls wanting to die. I don’t want anyone to see me. I should have just stayed home and “been sick”. However, I pull that door open and all the students are lined up awaiting…

Pictures… “IT”S PICTURE DAY!!! NOOOOOOO!” I want to run out of that room and make up my picture tomorrow.

Instead, “Oh, Lizzy you are here. Please come to the front of the line and take your photo. After you will need to write me an apology for your lateness.”

I very much dislike this teacher. But I do as she says and I make my way there. The whispers and giggles start and they continuously get louder. Not trying to be considerate.

I sit in front of the photographer, and his face says it all… “What happened to you?”

Great…this is the worst day ever. Slept in, No shower, no beautiful coffee, no cute clothes, no car, running sweat, and now picture…

“Okay,” the photographer says as he prepares himself for the worst picture ever, “One…Two…Three……….”

Nothing happens, and I stop my smile for a brief second to ask what’s wrong…

“Smile!” flash of light. “Next!”

“WORST DAY EVER!!!!”

…BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

“Huh?”

Just Another Day

Daily Prompts

Never Quite Done…

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Kick It

“Why, why, why?” I cannot seem to get this right. Why can I accomplish my other goals but not this one? I was able to go skydiving, falling without control. To travel to Paris and see the wonderful beautiful art. I was able to walk through the terrifying, dark shark tunnel at Sea World. I was able to dance the tango with a partner in a competition. I rode on the back of a motorcycle with my arms stretched out embracing the wind. I sang in front of an audience with judges; along with other things I have accomplished. However, this one is the hardest…I guess I will skip this one and move on to the next, which is number 12…survive a triathlon…

Time has passed, and I have accomplished everything on my list…everything…that’s a lie. There is still that one lingering goal I cannot and will not do. That would be embarrassing if it was not reciprocated. Anyways I have a great life. I have been courageous in every other outlook of my life. I have strived to be the best in my field, and I have gained the highest award…Boss. I am the boss of my own company; I earned every second, and I would not take any moment back…would I? No, every moment has been magical in its own way.  I accomplished 19 out of the 20 goals…that is an ‘A’. I have an ‘A’ in life goals and as well in life. My life is complete and I will live contently and happily to the limit!

Heartbreak, after heartbreak, after heartbreak. I have given my heart to every man that has loved me, but in the end they always break me. Again we danced, we ate dinner, we laughed the night away, and then the moment of which I thought he would love me he pulled away. The distance grew. Why do they keep pulling away? I give them everything my heart can give. I love them unconditionally without ever going too far. Why can I not find true love in this empty land? My heart is whole, and it is mine to give, but they pull away leaving me feeling empty and forsaken.

“Happy Birthday!” they all scream for me. I am 25 years old and I feel no different. I am living life as I have done through my many days. I have experienced much and I continue without truly knowing where I am going. But I continue. I search the room looking into all these faces and I see nothing. I feel nothing. Every hug I receive I feel nothing…Why do I…

…You?

Across the room stands someone I thought I would never see again. They look the same; they have grown taller and…more handsome. His eyes…he catches my stare and heads towards me. I can feel the warmth grow in my cheeks, and I imagine I look like a tomato with arms. I look to the floor trying to calm my face, as a pair of shoes enter my space. I look upwards and there is the smile that has always warmed my heart. His eyes are closed but I can feel the happiness in his face. “Hello,” I mumble out as I can barely speak.

His eyes open, those beautiful green eyes, “Hello.” And he brings me into a comforting embrace. And I feel everything.

We wander outside to relieve our faces of the warmth. The air is chilly and it soothes my burnt red cheeks. We sit on a wall facing the ocean. The waves crashing against the coast matches my heartbeat. He is sitting right next to me with his eyes closed soaking in the air. There is a small hint of blush still within his cheeks, making him more radiant than before…if possible…

“Happy Birthday” he whispers still with his eyes closed, but his fingers intertwining with mine.

“Thank you,” is all I can say without the tears spilling down my face. Years have passed, but it seems like only days. The warmth of his fingers sends electricity through my veins. I feel my heartbeat soar, and I worry he can feel my pulse through my fingers.

“Joseph…”

“Hmm…” he turns my way and his beautiful green eyes seem to pierce my soul.

“Do you remember how you helped me with my bucket-list?”

“Yes. Did you ever finish it entirely? Those were some good times.” His smile grew to fit his entire face. His eyes slowly drift back to the ocean, but his hand still holds mine. “Why?”

“I never did my number 11…I was not brave enough to complete them all…” tears welling up inside me.

His arm wraps around me, and he pulled me close. “Well I am here now, I can help you with that troublesome 11. What is it?”

I bury my head into his shoulder, wanting to soak up as much of him as possible… “You. You were my number 11.”

 

Daily Prompts

Needed…

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My Favorite

The girl stepped away from her precious home and turned toward the unknown. She understood this would not be forever, and what she was doing was for a good cause. Someone outside of her immediate family needed attention, and she would willingly give it to them if it would help them feel better. She piled her overflowing belongings into her small silver car and then she slammed the trunk shut. She gazes back at the house that has cared and loved her for many years, filled with her family, and she steps into her automobile and drives off.

A month has passed in this new house, and she craves the love she has left. This girl sits in her bed centered in a large room; she has no one near her and she feels alone. There is sadness. She misses her other home dearly.  But she also recognizes the good she is doing in this new home, which she has known since childhood. Still she yearns to return while her heart continues to call out. She collapses into deep sleep, clouded with whispers of tears.

Days pass, and the girl continues her good work. She does this work out of love; the love for family. However, she still feels lonely. She has always been surrounded by  unconditional love, but now in her moments of free time she is alone. She has no dislike towards this house which needs her, but she wants to be in her real home.

Weeks, it has been almost two months and she has hit her breaking point. She dreads another night alone. She dreads another meal alone. She dreads another night where she will not hug someone she loves goodnight. She dreads not saying, “I love you” in person, because she has for these two months said it through text. Of course the work she has done has been highly needed and extremely wanted, but she feels she needs to return home. There were some good times in this new house, but the ache for her home is a greater need.

“Good bye, Grandma. I am sorry for leaving before you are better, but…”

“All is fine my dear. You have been the greatest ‘at home nurse’ I could have asked for,” the loving old woman says as she pulls her in. Whispering into her ear, “I understand who you need…go…”

With tear filled eyes she hugs her grandma back and runs to her car. She travels away from this temporarily house and back to her true home. She pulls up to the curb and there outside the front door stands the woman she needed most. Mother.

Daily Prompts

Whom Do You Hear?

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Can’t Stand Me

The lights are blaring into my mind, and the chattering of people engulfs my essence.  There is just an audience of strangers ready to judge and comment on my performance. “Why am I doing this?” I question my reasoning’s as I stand behind this curtain about to take the stage. The curtain hides my figure and my fears. I have never wanted to be a singer; I have always been the girl who just quietly hums to herself. In my head I sound like this musical angel and there are no cracks or squeaks in my voice; I just hear soft, smooth, lyrics pour from my mouth without much thought.

The curtain is a stiff material and smells of alcohol, grease, and an unmentionable. I step away from the curtain, but then I feel revealed and less safe.  Because if the moment came that the curtain would rise I could clutch onto it and disappear into the darkness above. But I stand there, cowering behind the curtain, almost center stage, waiting for…

“Next up we have, Emily2Jane! Clap for her it is her first time here!” Thunderous applause erupts after his last syllable.

My hands are sweating and I drop the mike. The echoing sound causes my head to pound and ache. I snatch it up and the assistant off to the right gives me questioning look of, “Are you okay? You can give this up now if you still want to.”

I ponder this choice. Give up…that is not in my vocabulary. New Year’s resolution was to try and be courageous no matter the result. Although, if I leave now I could still keep this as a daydream…No do this for yourself. I answer with a firm shake of my head and the assistant cues the curtain to be raised.

Again I am flooded with light. I can see no faces. That makes this bearable, until the light dances off to my side and I see every face staring at me. The machine to my left brightens and the music begins to play.  My chance is here and everyone is waiting. I pull the microphone to my mouth and…squeak! I stop dead not wanting to continue. “I already accomplished my fear. I stood in front of an audience and put myself on the chopping block.  Can this be enough?” Looking back to the assistant. He is bright red but he circles his hand, telling me to continue.

I continue, but it is awful the whole way. I cannot hear my own voice, but I imagine it is what everyone usually experiences.  My throat is dry and weak with nerves as I continue; I imagine I must sound like I am just mumbling the words off as they appear on the screen. Nerves are not a fun thing to have; they make everything twice or three times as bad.

The song ends and I hear nothing. I want to run off the stage and through the door into my quiet life. But of course, I freeze with fear and my feet are glued to the center part of the stage.

“Well that was great, wasn’t it?” the announcer tries to diffuse the silence. If we were outside you would hear crickets. Nothing. Silence. And every eyes still trained on me. Mouths gaping open with wide eyes. My hands are sweating again. I feel the microphone slipping and I clench its handle tightly spraying sweat over my knuckles. I can hear a mumbled voice speaking, must be the announcer, only my heart beat is penetrating the silence. A hand opens, pointing off stage, trying to lead me out the right side back behind the curtain. Still there is silence. I reach the curtain and there is a small clap. It is slow and steady; then another clap joins in. Until the audience is clapping in unison. I stand halfway behind the curtain and half on stage. I thank them with tearful eyes and a small reassuring nod and exit to my right.

I have no idea if they clapped because they liked me or because I was brave. I have no recollection of my performance and I couldn’t describe it to you now. I only slightly remember the squeaking and this could have been my imagination. I am drenched in sweat and smell terrible. I need a bath and a large bowl of chocolate ice cream to help me recover. I move towards the exit and many hands congratulate me with a small pat on my back. I wish they wouldn’t because I can feel the sweat dripping off of me. I reach the coat rack and move towards the exit. The announcer calls back, “Come again, Emily2Jane!” and I leave.

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