When Sarah gave me this prompt last week, the foundation of my story immediately came to mind. Unfortunately, life got a little crazy and I wasn’t able to spend as much time with this as I wanted to. Maybe I’ll revisit this story again and really give it the attention I couldn’t now, but in the meantime, I’m pretty pleased with it and hope you like it too.
When the curse descended over the country, it brought a whole new level of meaning to ‘anything you say can and will be used against you.’ After all, it’s hard to take your words back if they’re written on your skin for the entire world to see.
Yet in a way, it was the curse that helped my family, my friends, and my neighbors rise. We found a loophole, paid the cost daily, but at least we could afford to feed ourselves now. Because we remembered something that those rich, spoiled, proud, loud people couldn’t seem to grasp.
You have the right to remain silent. Continue reading
The fun with prompts continues! This story immediately popped into my head as soon as I saw what Sarah assigned me last week. And because of the weird way my mind works, I used this as an excuse to rewatch My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Read on and enjoy!
“What part of keep that thing away from me are you having trouble understanding?” I open my bedroom door just wide enough for me to duck inside, then lock it before anyone else can follow me in.
For the past 15 minutes, Aunt Moira has been chasing me around the house with the tattered little book and refusing to listen. “It is our heritage, Nia! It’s not like you didn’t know this existed.” I slide down the door and put my hands over my ears, but it’s not enough to block out the sounds of my entire family on the other side doing a really poor job of whispering.
“Of course I knew,” I say again. “But just because it’s written doesn’t mean I have to read it. Nothing says any of us have to read our Plans.” Of course it went without saying that choosing not to read it was a highly unusual choice in our family, but there was very little about our family that wasn’t unusual in the first place.
As if growing up isn’t hard enough, try being the descendants of the Fates. That’s right, they’re real, hanging out on Mount Olympus or wherever, and once upon a time that was definitely not discussed when we had our Greek mythology unit in freshmen English class, they had kids. Continue reading
We’re back to using writing prompts here on Stories by SaM, and I am glad for it! Do I love coming up with my own stuff? Of course! But Sarah and I agreed that prompts are helpful to keeping us on track and challenging ourselves. So this is the picture that Sarah gave me as my prompt, and here’s the story I came up with to go with it. Read all the way to the end to see the prompt I am challenging Sarah with for next week and Stay Radish!
The winter of 1933 was one of those times when the best thing that could happen to you was dying. Of course, every season had felt that way since the stock market crashed in 1929 and the Great Depression descended like an unforgiving, immovable storm.
Yet for the Setterfeld’s there was always a reason to hope. It was simply how they had always been. Maybe it’s because Thomas was a young doctor who had graduated at the top of his class and was always determined to find the best in people or a dire situation. Or maybe it was because Gertrude, his effervescent bride for almost two years now, was the complete embodiment of sweetness and sunshine. Together they were a perfectly balanced scale, yet hope was hard for them to find that Christmas Eve in the face of so much gray. Continue reading
As we pulled up to the immaculate mansion, my stomach dropped. Any hope that I had been holding onto that this was a false tip was gone. The grounds were well kept. The only sounds were wind bustling through the leaves and a nearby creek. You could barely catch a whiff of the zombies under the smell of lilacs that stood on either side of the front door.
Of course it was a real tip. There were so few of us left, so prank calls and practical jokes were a thing of the past.
I pulled the gun out of my holster and clicked off the safety as Akio parked the car just inside the iron gate at the end of the driveway. We got out of the car and when he noted my piece, he pulled out his own.
“You brought yours?” Ambassadors were supposed to show that we came in peace, which to Akio usually meant no guns. I guess after losing more of our people the week before, I shouldn’t have been surprised.
His dark aviators hid his expression, but his tense shoulders and the fact that his finger stayed on the trigger the whole time we trekked up the gravel path said it all. The metal in his hand looked at odds with his diplomatic suit, but he was so sure about both. “My job is to be reasonable with them. Sometimes reason needs some extra incentives.”
I scoffed. “Just don’t sound too intelligent otherwise I’ll be having to find a way to rescue your sorry ass today, too.” Continue reading
Prompt: I’m ignoring it today because I got my own idea that I wanted to try, inspired by a traumatic experience that takes place annually: shopping for shorts.
It all started when I was feeling sick of being so plain and average and unhappy. Granted, this is how I’ve been for the majority of my life, but last year I finally decided to do something about it. I ran. I did the elliptical. I swam, did reps, made a progress chart, all of it. I sweat until there was nothing left. I literally worked my ass off which sounds like a good thing until the warm weather finally came around and all my ‘new’ shorts from last summer no longer fit.
Which brings me to ye olde local chain fashion store in pursuit of an item of clothing that it’s basically impossible to get through a Midwest summer without: shorts. Not like my running shorts I work out in or my ancient high school gym shorts I sleep in, but actual I-can-wear-these-in-public shorts.
Armed with a coupon, I’m feeling pretty good. I take my time roaming around, eying some bold, colorful shirts that just came in and a few super cute dresses that have a bit of a 50s vibe to them. Finally I get to the part of the store dedicated to the lower half of the body and get to work.
My index finger deftly flicks the hangers down the line. Sizes 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-2-2-2-2-2-2-4-4-4-4-4-8-8-8-8-10-10-10-10-12-12-12-12-12-12-12-12-14-14-14-14-14-16-16-16-16-16. Seriously? Every size but a 6? The size I need (finally!)? The size most common size on the planet? Continue reading