Shadows

Today is Northern Migration Day (finally!! it’s been two weeks of delays and chaos), so I’m cobbling together this prompt post! Here, you get a peek at my process, completely unedited. My apologies! 😉

Commute

After many false starts and some significant drifting away from the actual prompt, I finally got a few words down:

She sat on the hard, molded-plastic subway seat with her hands gripping the handles of the overnight bag in her lap. Around her, bodies rocked and swayed with the movement of the car. With each stop, the space between passengers decreased until she had briefcases and hips, grocery bags and butts pressing in on her from all sides.

A hugely pregnant woman sat across from her, one hand on a novel and the other pressed against her rounded belly. She exhaled impatiently as she turned the page.

*6/23 prompt “When he tried to attack me with _____, I couldn’t help but _____.

No Such Thing as Haunted

There is a crooked house wedged into the fork of the old oak tree in our backyard. It was there when we moved in. My sister won’t go up there. She thinks it’s haunted. She’s a dumb baby.

I know there’s no such thing as haunted.

Perfectly Normal

I felt perfectly normal right up until the last challenge.

That’s when the dizziness and hot flashes set in. I tried to ignore them as I listened to the Game Master describe the rules of the game ahead, but it took all my concentration to stay upright. If any part of me other than my feet touched the pad during the sharing of the rules, I’d be automatically disqualified. I certainly wasn’t going to let that happen after all I’d overcome so far.

Part of the Family

I was fifteen years old when the judge finalized the adoption papers. We ate at my favorite burger place after the signing ceremony. I’d already finished my double cheeseburger and started in on my extra-large side of fries when Dad turned to me and said, “You’re officially part of the family now. It’s time you truly understood.”

Battlefield

The victors trudge off the battlefield, no less aching and injured than the opposition. Blood dries brown and sticky on armor. Swords and axes imbued with the power of the righteous during the fight, now sap the remaining energy from the arms that wield them. Heads bowed and faces somber, the soldiers who can still walk make their way through the field—once green and full of life, now strewn with muddy corpses—looking for survivors. Those wearing the colors of the king receive what rudimentary medical services available. Those wearing the colors of the traitor receive the sharp end of a sword.

Backseat Driving

Gigi climbed reluctantly into the back seat of the old Chevy, slamming the door behind her. She watched as her mother settled herself into the driver’s seat and fiddled with the light controls. The windshield wipers flicked back and forth twice. Headlights switched from high to low beam and back, illuminating the yard ahead.