I tend to take my writing too seriously, so this is how I mix it up a bit and get the creative juices flowing on a daily basis. Feel free to join in and throw in some prompts too. (I will mostly get these shiny ideas from the Writer's Digest vault of creative writing prompts. Hardly any will be original ideas.)
I want to try to do this weekly, and if that goes well, I'll increase it to daily prompts.
*Make each post under 1,000 words, and copy the prompt you're writing from in your page. T
You call an old flame from high school whom you still have feelings for and ask to meet up. The flame says, “Sure, how about noon at the pub by your house.” While waiting at the pub, your flame walks in—wearing a wedding dress (or tuxedo). The flame looks at you and says, “I’m supposed to be getting married today, but …” What happens? Write this scene.
I sat at the bar stool in the pub idly playing with my straw and turning the chair in circles, making a horrible high-pitched squeaking sound. The lights were dimmed, which I was grateful, and I prayed to nothing that my high school beloved wouldn't notice the garish pimple on my cheek. I ran out of face cream months ago and never bothered to reorder, and my makeup bag was at my lover's house.
Every year on the day Tina broke my heart, I called her asking to get together, and every year she declined so I was surprised when not only did she agree to our date but that she was still local.
Sitting on that stool, I tried to calculate how many years had passed since high school graduation, but my brain was fuzzy from too many whiskey shots. I looked down at my girly Cosmopolitan and shook my head. The doorbell chimed but I hardly paid any attention to it and scrolled down the messages on my phone to confirm the date.
"Lizzy? Is that you?" an all too familiar voice behind me asked.
I swiveled around to see my beloved, her shining face, her flawless makeup, and her all-white wedding dress.
"Tina, darling!" I stumbled to slide down from the stool. It's great to see you, but why on earth are you wearing that dress?"
"Oh, trivialities. Let's catch up first. I haven't been to this bar in years. Mark, my fiance, wouldn't allow me to drink in public." She paused, meeting my eyes. "You know how I get. Barkeep! Long-Island."
As I led her to the darkened corner of the pub, she launched in a story that encompassed her life from high school graduation through a decade of accomplishments and heart breaks. I tried to keep up, but she was talking too quickly and my mind was muddled.
"Tina, you still haven't answered my question. Why are you wearing that dress? It's beautiful, but that's usually reserved for, uh, special days."
Tina sighed and looked at me. "I guess it's time to stop stalling. I'm supposed to be getting married today - to Mark, of course - but I couldn't go through with it. It was a beautiful outdoor wedding. The weather was perfect, everybody came, and everything was running smoothly. Then I looked from behind the hedges that concealed me, and I saw Mark standing there looking proud. I couldn't go through with it. I took the veil off and left it as my token of love to him and I ran here to meet with you."
I looked at her with utter disbelief. "But why couldn't you go through with it?"
"I had been doing some soul searching the last few months. I've been with Mark for six years, Lizzy. Six years! And not one time have I really enjoyed him. You know, how two people are supposed to enjoy each other. Sure, it was sexual but it wasn't sensual, and that's what I craved the most. After several therapy sessions, I couldn't deny the one fact I had been trying to cover up all my life."
I waited for this revelation, this secret that not even I knew about, but she stopped talking and it didn't seem like she was going to divulge.
"Which was," I prompted.
"I'm gay, Lizzy! I'm not just bisexual or curious. I'm gay. So, you see, I couldn't possibly go through with the wedding any more than Mark could have changed genders. I hope he's not too terribly disappointed though. I've been hinting at this for weeks now."
I sat and looked at her. I had known this so-called secret of hers for over a decade and could have told her that what we had wasn't some teenage experiment. It was real. It was love. And we found ourselves back in each other's lives once more, and I wasn't going to let her go again.
I stood up and offered my hand. "Let's get out of here, shall we? We have lots of exploration to do."