Prompt Fiction, Relationships

Focusing on What Was Important

The assignment was: after you have died, your daughter/son will be given the gift of seeing a single five-minute period of your life through your eyes, feeling and experiencing those moments as you did when they occurred. What five minutes would you have him/her see?

Choosing five minutes of my life to share with my boys was really hard. I’ve had so many wonderful moments in my life that settling on a mere five minutes seemed impossible at first. But I thought about it. I patiently inserted slides of my life into the projector and this was the slide that made me smile; this was the moment I knew my life had changed forever.


“Grab your camera and let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” I asked while grabbing my camera. I didn’t hesitate. I was ready to follow him anywhere. I trusted him. I liked him. I looked forward to spending time with him. I might even have loved him.

“To the lake. Let’s take some pictures. I’ll teach you some techniques.”

So, we left. The day was chilly, but I was warm enough in my jean jacket. I worried that the wind would mess up my hair because I wanted to look good for him under all conditions. I wanted him to be proud of me; his opinion meant something to me.

Which was weird for me. I was confused, but it was a pleasant confusion. My entire body felt like it was standing at the edge of a cliff, my balance precarious, my arms outstretched and grappling for something to hang on to. But I wasn’t scared of falling into this relationship; it was more of an eager anticipation.

We explored the lake that day. We took a lot of pictures – most of them were mediocre, a few of them were even great. I learned a lot about photography, and about myself that day. I felt comfortable with him. I began to imagine my life with him.

We each brought different strengths to our relationship – he brought clarity, determination, motivation; I brought whimsy, nonchalance, and careful abandon. We both shared an intense imagination.

And we laughed a lot.

Though our relationship was still fairly new, it felt like we had known one another our entire lives. There was the initial awkwardness of getting to know one another, but it only lasted mere days instead of weeks and we soon fell into an easygoing, pleasant and fun relationship. We were honest with one another and after several weeks of being with him, I began entertaining the thought of maybe, just maybe, we could live a lifetime together.

They say you “know” when you have meant the right person and forgive me, but I have to agree. There simply wasn’t one thing about him that sealed the deal for me, it was so many little things and then nothing at all. He simply stepped into my world and staked a claim on the plat of land in my heart that was reserved for that special someone.

I hadn’t even known that piece of real estate existed until he came along.

This should have scared me – the thought of committing to one person had always scared me up until that point. But I think because he was able to step into my world so effortlessly, so quietly, with very little fanfare, that it caught me off guard and I let my defenses down, just for a moment, but long enough for the damage to be done.

I was in love.

I realized my feelings as we took turns posing for one another. I felt free to be myself and I enthusiastically alternated my poses: from goofy to sexy all in an attempt to make him laugh and look at me, to really see me as a person and a possible life partner.

Though my feelings had sort of taken off without my permission, I forced myself to think about the reality of our relationship. Was he someone I could respect? Was he responsible? Did he have goals? Could I live with his bad habits?

And most importantly – could he put up with me and all of my irrational moods and faulty personality?

I had high hopes.

Though we were together at the lake that day, we also took time to explore on our own. The fact that he felt comfortable enough to give me my space was really what clinched the deal.

He was secure enough in himself, and in me, to give me room to breathe.

I knew there would be times that I would crave isolation. I required his understanding.

I sensed his understanding.

We arrived at the lake mere boyfriend and girlfriend – we left the lake that day soul mates.


Prompt Fiction

Romantic Encounter: The Wrong Conclusion

Ready for this week’s prompt?

You inadvertently run an important paper through the shredder.

Want to play along? Check out Romantic Encounters. 😀


“I came over as soon as I could. How is she?” Donna threw her bag onto a nearby chair; her eyes remained focused on the teenage girl in front of her.

“She’s … out of it,” the girl said, her dark blue lipstick shimmering in the late afternoon sunlight. “She’s depressed. She’s shocked. She’s pissed,” she suddenly poked herself in the chest. “I’M pissed. What the hell was he thinking?”

Donna had known the girl her entire life. She could see the hurt lurking behind the brave mask. She put an arm around the girl’s bony shoulders and held on tight even when the girl tried to initially throw her support off. After several long, tense moments, the girl broke down and began to cry, burying her head into Donna’s shoulder.

I’m going to have makeup all over my blouse,” Donna absently thought as she stroked the girl’s blue-streaked hair. She continued to hold the girl for several minutes as she cried out her emotions.

Betrayal was never easy to deal with, let alone when you were a 16-year old girl.

“I’m sorry,” the girl said, her voice muffled by Donna’s blouse.

“Don’t be. You’re justified.”

She sniffed. “I need a tissue.” She pulled back and went over to an end table to snag a tissue from the box decorated with hearts all over it.

Donna suddenly had the urge to rip that box into several tiny pieces.

The girl blew her nose then spat out a bitter laugh. “This is the worst Valentine’s Day in history. Love SUCKS!”

Donna gave her a few minutes to compose herself before quietly asking, “Where is she, Alexandria.”

She shrugged a shoulder toward the back of the house. “In the office. But I warn you, she won’t come out. I’ve been trying to get her to open the door for the last hour and …nothing.”

“What is she doing in there?”

“I don’t know. I heard some crashes earlier. I thought maybe she hurt herself. But when I pounded on the door and demanded an answer, she just said to leave her alone – she needed time to regroup, or some shit like that.” Alexandria wrapped the soggy tissue around her nose again and gave a noisy honk.

“Right. Tell you what. Why don’t you make some coffee, or maybe some sandwiches –“

“None of us are hungry, Aunt Donna.”

“I know that, sweetie. But just do it, okay? I’m going to try and get her to open the door.”

Alexandria snorted. “Yeah. Good luck with that.” She stomped into the kitchen, her combat boots heavy enough to vibrate the floor.

She took a moment to gulp in some fresh air before heading down the hallway. She passed several family portraits – Mary had always made sure they had had their pictures taken every year, without fail, even when Alexandria had vehemently protested – when she stopped in front of the door leading to the office.

She lifted a hand and rapped her knuckles sharply against the door. She paused to listen. All she could hear was the steady hum of some machine.

“Go away, Alex. I don’t want to talk right now,” her sister’s voice ground out. She could tell by the tone that she still had a tight rein on her anger.

“It’s Donna, Mary. Let me in.”

She wasn’t sure what she had expected. Mary wasn’t exactly an open book. She had always been a bit unpredictable, even growing up, so she wasn’t sure that she would even talk to her in the first place, but she jumped when the door suddenly flung open and Mary reached a hand out to drag Donna quickly inside the room.

“Hey!” Alexandria’s voice could be heard coming down the hallway. “No fair! I want to come in, too!”

“Later, honey! I need to talk to Aunt Donna first,” Mary slammed the door and then turned her tear-streaked face toward her sister. “That low-lying piece of pond scum,” she hissed. “Can you BELIEVE he would do something like this to me?”

Donna blinked at the mess in the office. Her sister was rather anal about keeping things tidy. In fact, she remembered trying to convince their mother that she was OCD when they were little and that she had needed help, her obsession for order was so outrageous growing up. But the otherwise spotless office was in complete disarray. Papers were everywhere. The cushion on the office chair had been ripped and fluffy, white stuffing peeked through the jagged leather edges. The fax machine had been pulled off the table and was lying in pieces on the floor. The curtains had been shredded and several pictures had been ripped off the walls, the glass cracked, but not broken, like she had stomped on the faces of her loved ones.

A cold chill suddenly went up her spine at the sheer destruction around them. She had never seen her sister this upset before.

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