Off-the-cuff writing on a given topic for 30 minutes (give or take a few). Sad, sappy, silly or serious. Always clean. Read, comment, join the fun and post your own.
You promised you would never raise your voice at me. You vowed that you would ever be my friend. You said you knew my heart was young and fragile. Your tenderness, you said, would never end.
You promised! What's more important? Keeping promises or playing baseball away from the windows?
You promised me some meatballs with spaghetti. You said I got to choose 'cause it's my night. And then you made black beans and yucky feta, And you insist I have to take a bite?
You promised! How will I learn to keep my word if you don't? Sure Roosters is closed but it's only 20 minutes to Lethbridge. You can buy meat at Superstore...
Kayla stomped her foot. “But you promised!” Dad’s face was hard as stone “No, I said maybe.” He wasn’t going to budge. Kayla tossed her head, it was time to try this from a different angle. “But, Daddy,” she pleaded, “I already bought the dress. You can’t keep me from going to the prom! It would be such a waste of money.” “I’m sure the dress will still fit next year.” “But it won't be in style next year!” His eyes flashed. “Kayla, you are being completely irrational. You are not skipping out on your brother's performance to go to a dance.” “It isn't just a dance, Dad! It's the dance! And Ryan asked me! You have no idea how hard it's been to get him to ask me out! He's the hottest boy in school! I've waited for this for years!” “I can judge by your frequency of exclamation marks that you are not going to think clearly on this,” Dad said, “You haven't used a single period in several paragraphs.” “You have no idea how distressing this is!” “Oh?” “Fine. There! I used a period! You won't catch me doing it again!” “Then you also won't catch anyone rereading this story.” “I'm better than you! You haven't used a single exclamation mark in this whole scene!” Dad rose from his armchair. “I think it is high time we end this conversation, Kayla. You can help your mother in the kitchen or you can go to your room.” “Da-” A tingling melody cut her off and she yanked the cell phone from her pocket. Her eyes widened as she stared at the words across the screen, then pasted on a smile and answered it. “Hello, Ryan.” There was a murmur of a male voice from the speaker. “Yeah, I need to talk to you about that...” Giving her father one final glare, she flounced out of the room.
Meg, I love your use of vivid verbs, like "flounced." My favourite line is “I can judge by your frequency of exclamation marks that you are not going to think clearly on this,” Dad said.
Anonymous, your little quip makes me laugh. Reminds me of the time my little boy (3) was knocking on the bathroom door while I took a bath. "Little pig, Little pig, let me come in!" he pleaded. "Not by the hair of my chinny, chin chin." I replied. "Please let me in," he asked. "No," I answered. "You want to eat me for your breakfast." "I do not!" His tone was indignant. "You ate my brothers," I pointed out. "I did not eat your brothers. They went to Church," he responded. A pause, then, "Church is in my mouth.
Does it count if I kind of went over the time limit? :P
I was sitting on my favourite bench, admiring the roses, when I heard the sound of hoof beats. It isn’t uncommon for visiting dignitaries to use the path through the rose gardens as a shortcut between their quarters and the Hall, but seldom had I seen any of them on horseback and I had thought that our current visitor, Gedafi Randella, was too short to ride. Curious, I turned to watch the approaching horse.
It was a large muscular gray I didn’t recognise, sides shining with sweat, its powerful neck blocking my view of its rider. My ‘Gedafi’s taking riding lessons’ theory quickly evaporated, only to be immediately replaced by a new one.
“Do you have a message for my father, rider?” I called out as the horse approached and slowed to a trot. The horse, lovely high-stepping creature, dipped its head and whinnied as it drew level with me and I got my first look at its rider.
He was young, only a few years older than I, I should think, with dark shaggy hair that fell almost into his eyes and a curiously mischievous grin. He was dressed well, obviously a person of rank. I felt my eyebrows rise on my forehead. What were the odds, I wondered, that a handsome young royal would come riding through my garden at just this moment, while I was here alone, without having been sent for by my father?
Watching him dismount from his horse, bow, and press a kiss upon my outstretched hand, I sighed. The odds were definitely not in his favour.
“Your Highness, allow me to introduce myself. I am Alfonso de Marguerite. ”
“I’m sure it’s my pleasure to meet you,” I said cordially, though I wasn’t sure at all. He smiled and bowed again. I rolled my eyes while his head was bent.
“Your Majesty looks lovely today,” he purred when he had straightened up, “A delicate butterfly amidst the flowers. If Your Majesty would be so kind—“
“Thank you, very good of you,” I interrupted. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, and not just from embarrassment. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with my father.” I tried very hard to retain a courtly tone, but my words ended in a growl. Turning away from my flabbergasted would-be-lover, I strode toward the Hall, feeling grim.
~*~
“He’s a wonderful boy; polite, affectionate. Are you saying you dislike him? You hardly even gave him a glance!”
“That’s beside the point, father. You promised. No more suitors ‘til I feel ready for them.”
“I know and I’m sorry, but I had already talked to his mother when I made that promise. She’s concerned that he is not ready to rule, wants him to marry first. She thinks it will steady him, help him mature. Having him court you is just as much for his sake as yours.”
“But you promised! You said—”
“I know what I said, listen to what I’m saying now!” Father’s face was red. He puffed out his chest, reminding me, somewhat distractedly, of a frog. “Whether I promised to have no more suitors come here is currently irrelevant. Ah ah ah,” he said, raising a finger warningly as I made to interrupt, “Alfonso is our guest. He is going to stay here for two weeks. You need not listen to any declarations of love or give him any attention romantically, but you shall be a good hostess! If at the end of two weeks, you still can’t wait to be rid of him, his stay shall not be extended and we can tell his mother we tried. But, if, at that time, your views on romance have changed—“
“Which they won’t,” I muttered. Father continued as if I had not spoken.
“—then he will be asked to stay as long as he likes, and you shall allow his attentions. Are we agreed?”
I sat, watching him sullenly. This is the problem with having a king for a father. Finally, sighing, I shook his outstretched hand.
I love it. Alfonso de Marguerite! The very name gives me shudders. I like Father's puffing out his chest in a way that calls to mind a frog, and the hasty escape our heroine makes, trying to be courteous but failing to surpress a growl.
So, of course, I want to know the end of the story. My vote is that he leaves.
Well... perhaps there will be another installation sometime. ;)
Can I just say, Meg, that was hilarious.
“I can judge by your frequency of exclamation marks that you are not going to think clearly on this,” Dad said, “You haven't used a single period in several paragraphs.”
HA! I was thinking it was just your typical dad/daughter fight and then you sprang that sentence on me and I was quite tickled.
“Fine. There! I used a period! You won't catch me doing it again!”
You promised you would never raise your voice at me.
ReplyDeleteYou vowed that you would ever be my friend.
You said you knew my heart was young and fragile.
Your tenderness, you said, would never end.
You promised! What's more important? Keeping promises or playing baseball away from the windows?
You promised me some meatballs with spaghetti.
You said I got to choose 'cause it's my night.
And then you made black beans and yucky feta,
And you insist I have to take a bite?
You promised! How will I learn to keep my word if you don't? Sure Roosters is closed but it's only 20 minutes to Lethbridge. You can buy meat at Superstore...
"But you promised!"
ReplyDelete"No. I promised not to eat people. As I remember, Little Red Riding Hood was not a people."
Kayla stomped her foot. “But you promised!”
ReplyDeleteDad’s face was hard as stone “No, I said maybe.”
He wasn’t going to budge. Kayla tossed her head, it was time to try this from a different angle. “But, Daddy,” she pleaded, “I already bought the dress. You can’t keep me from going to the prom! It would be such a waste of money.”
“I’m sure the dress will still fit next year.”
“But it won't be in style next year!”
His eyes flashed. “Kayla, you are being completely irrational. You are not skipping out on your brother's performance to go to a dance.”
“It isn't just a dance, Dad! It's the dance! And Ryan asked me! You have no idea how hard it's been to get him to ask me out! He's the hottest boy in school! I've waited for this for years!”
“I can judge by your frequency of exclamation marks that you are not going to think clearly on this,” Dad said, “You haven't used a single period in several paragraphs.”
“You have no idea how distressing this is!”
“Oh?”
“Fine. There! I used a period! You won't catch me doing it again!”
“Then you also won't catch anyone rereading this story.”
“I'm better than you! You haven't used a single exclamation mark in this whole scene!”
Dad rose from his armchair. “I think it is high time we end this conversation, Kayla. You can help your mother in the kitchen or you can go to your room.”
“Da-”
A tingling melody cut her off and she yanked the cell phone from her pocket. Her eyes widened as she stared at the words across the screen, then pasted on a smile and answered it. “Hello, Ryan.”
There was a murmur of a male voice from the speaker.
“Yeah, I need to talk to you about that...” Giving her father one final glare, she flounced out of the room.
Meg, I love your use of vivid verbs, like "flounced." My favourite line is “I can judge by your frequency of exclamation marks that you are not going to think clearly on this,” Dad said.
ReplyDeleteAnonymous, your little quip makes me laugh. Reminds me of the time my little boy (3) was knocking on the bathroom door while I took a bath. "Little pig, Little pig, let me come in!" he pleaded.
"Not by the hair of my chinny, chin chin." I replied.
"Please let me in," he asked.
"No," I answered. "You want to eat me for your breakfast."
"I do not!" His tone was indignant.
"You ate my brothers," I pointed out.
"I did not eat your brothers. They went to Church," he responded. A pause, then, "Church is in my mouth.
Does it count if I kind of went over the time limit? :P
ReplyDeleteI was sitting on my favourite bench, admiring the roses, when I heard the sound of hoof beats. It isn’t uncommon for visiting dignitaries to use the path through the rose gardens as a shortcut between their quarters and the Hall, but seldom had I seen any of them on horseback and I had thought that our current visitor, Gedafi Randella, was too short to ride. Curious, I turned to watch the approaching horse.
It was a large muscular gray I didn’t recognise, sides shining with sweat, its powerful neck blocking my view of its rider. My ‘Gedafi’s taking riding lessons’ theory quickly evaporated, only to be immediately replaced by a new one.
“Do you have a message for my father, rider?” I called out as the horse approached and slowed to a trot. The horse, lovely high-stepping creature, dipped its head and whinnied as it drew level with me and I got my first look at its rider.
He was young, only a few years older than I, I should think, with dark shaggy hair that fell almost into his eyes and a curiously mischievous grin. He was dressed well, obviously a person of rank. I felt my eyebrows rise on my forehead. What were the odds, I wondered, that a handsome young royal would come riding through my garden at just this moment, while I was here alone, without having been sent for by my father?
Watching him dismount from his horse, bow, and press a kiss upon my outstretched hand, I sighed. The odds were definitely not in his favour.
“Your Highness, allow me to introduce myself. I am Alfonso de Marguerite. ”
“I’m sure it’s my pleasure to meet you,” I said cordially, though I wasn’t sure at all. He smiled and bowed again. I rolled my eyes while his head was bent.
“Your Majesty looks lovely today,” he purred when he had straightened up, “A delicate butterfly amidst the flowers. If Your Majesty would be so kind—“
“Thank you, very good of you,” I interrupted. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, and not just from embarrassment. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with my father.” I tried very hard to retain a courtly tone, but my words ended in a growl. Turning away from my flabbergasted would-be-lover, I strode toward the Hall, feeling grim.
~*~
“He’s a wonderful boy; polite, affectionate. Are you saying you dislike him? You hardly even gave him a glance!”
“That’s beside the point, father. You promised. No more suitors ‘til I feel ready for them.”
“I know and I’m sorry, but I had already talked to his mother when I made that promise. She’s concerned that he is not ready to rule, wants him to marry first. She thinks it will steady him, help him mature. Having him court you is just as much for his sake as yours.”
“But you promised! You said—”
“I know what I said, listen to what I’m saying now!” Father’s face was red. He puffed out his chest, reminding me, somewhat distractedly, of a frog. “Whether I promised to have no more suitors come here is currently irrelevant. Ah ah ah,” he said, raising a finger warningly as I made to interrupt, “Alfonso is our guest. He is going to stay here for two weeks. You need not listen to any declarations of love or give him any attention romantically, but you shall be a good hostess! If at the end of two weeks, you still can’t wait to be rid of him, his stay shall not be extended and we can tell his mother we tried. But, if, at that time, your views on romance have changed—“
“Which they won’t,” I muttered. Father continued as if I had not spoken.
“—then he will be asked to stay as long as he likes, and you shall allow his attentions. Are we agreed?”
I sat, watching him sullenly. This is the problem with having a king for a father. Finally, sighing, I shook his outstretched hand.
“Agreed.”
I love it. Alfonso de Marguerite! The very name gives me shudders. I like Father's puffing out his chest in a way that calls to mind a frog, and the hasty escape our heroine makes, trying to be courteous but failing to surpress a growl.
ReplyDeleteSo, of course, I want to know the end of the story. My vote is that he leaves.
Well... perhaps there will be another installation sometime. ;)
ReplyDeleteCan I just say, Meg, that was hilarious.
“I can judge by your frequency of exclamation marks that you are not going to think clearly on this,” Dad said, “You haven't used a single period in several paragraphs.”
HA! I was thinking it was just your typical dad/daughter fight and then you sprang that sentence on me and I was quite tickled.
“Fine. There! I used a period! You won't catch me doing it again!”
Hahaha, love it. :D