Daily Prompt: Moments to Remember

Daily Prompt: Moments to Remember

What are the three most memorable moments — good or bad, happy or sad — in your life? Go!
When I was born
Doctors still slapped you on the ass.
I don’t really remember her doing it but it has to qualify as a memorable moment.
Talk about culture shock!

When I fell in love
Folks still took their commitments seriously.
I don’t really remember the exact moment – I don’t think it was sudden – more like slow and self affirming.
Talk about life changing!

When I woke this morning
My eyes still opened.
I don’t really remember my dreams but I remember waking to a new day where anything can happen and probably will.
Talk about high expectations!

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The Clarity of Retrospect

Whirr, whack, whack, whack, whack. The 16mm film had run completely through the projector. Our Sociology teacher, Mr. Lincoln, turned it off and asked Amy to get the lights. Then he walked to the front of the class. He must have decided to pick on Jeff today. Jeff had come to class stoned but, that wasn’t really a surprise. Jeff always came to class stoned. It was the first class after lunch after all. “Tell me about the film, Jeff.”

“Wha? Who? Me? You mean me Mr. Lincoln?” He pointed to his own chest. Everyone turned to look at Jeff expectantly. This might be entertaining.

Mr. Lincoln nodded.

“Well, shit, it was a pretty cool movie, I guess.” He began.

Mr. Lincoln pressed, “Try to refrain from the use of profanity Jeff. What was it about?”

“Uhm OK… There was this chick, kinda cute, with like, really nice hair. And, she like, gets off a bus, and then later some little dude snatches her purse.” Jeff was getting into it now. Enjoying the retelling, “But she’s like, having none of it, ya know, and she takes off after the little dude. She’s all like, ‘Hey, little dude, that’s my bag. Give it back’ but, the little guy keeps motorin’. Up some stairs and through some alleyways. I couldn’t tell where they were, fer shure, but it wasn’t Santa Monica!” Jeff snorted and laughed. “Then she like, finds her purse man. It’s just dumped on a step. But the funny part is, her stuff is still there. Like her money and her hand lotion is all still there but, it’s like somethin’ is missin’. You can kinda tell by the way she is lookin’. I just didn’t know what. I don’t know what’s missin’.”

“So she packs her shit up and starts to leave but then she spots the little dude down another alley, writin’ in a notebook… Whoa, I’ll bet it was her notebook, huh Mr. Lincoln? Or maybe it was her pen? Wait, wait, I’ll bet it was her pen and her notebook.”

Jeff gets a contemplative look on his face and looks earnestly at his teacher, “Then, she just leaves, dude. She totally lets him get away with it. I guess she was cool with the little dude needin’ a pen and some paper. Huh?”

Mr. Lincoln smiles and nods his head, “Pretty good Jeff. Would you say that through the clarity of retrospect, the obvious conclusion would be that things don’t always turn out as planned?

“Yeah, Mr. Lincoln, dude. That’s exactly what I was gonna say. I was gonna say exactly that.”

“Well then?” Mr. Lincoln asked.

Jeff looked solemnly around the class blinked his eyes twice, swallowed, and said, “Through the clarity of retrospect, the obvious conclusion surfaced: things don’t always turn out as planned.”


Here are the rules:

• Your post must be dated March 23, 2013, or later.
• Submissions must be 750 words or fewer.
• Submissions must be fiction or poetry.
• You must include the following sentence as the LAST line of your submission: “Through the clarity of retrospect, the obvious conclusion surfaced: things don’t always turn out as planned.”
• You must also include a reference to the media prompt.
• The speakeasy is for submissions written specifically for the grid. Please don’t submit an entry if you intend to showcase it to another blog link-up. Such posts are deleted without notice.
• Please don’t post long explanations before your post. We want your writing to be the star of the show. If you need to clarify anything, feel free to do so at the end.

How Friends are Made and Kept


I understand your decision,
If only I’d found you sooner.

You allowed me in, we’re friends.

You introduced me to others,
Now they’re my friends too.

In this way you’re with me always.


For the final challenge here at Trifecta, we considered some flash and dazzle, a wild prompt to send us off with a bang.  What we realized was the most achingly beautiful, haunting and dazzling words we’ve read from our brilliant community have been the ones you chose when you were given the freedom to write with abandon.  So we’re lovingly, and eagerly, placing the choice in your hands.  There’s no topic, no word, just a free write. Go anywhere your mind wants to travel.  Take us there too.  Just make it count, leave your blood all over this page.  Thirty-three words exactly.  Of course.  We couldn’t end it any other way.

Good luck and happy writing! – See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.CtrnNsVF.dpuf

22March 2014

22 March 2014

victoriansansalpha 760x100

The prompts are:

  1. It looked soft and supple
  2. Shortbread
  3. We all had to do it

Begin Writing
We had three prompts for the group today.  None of them were very inspiring but we all had the same ones.  We all had to do it.  We all had to write.

The first prompt was “It looked soft and supple”. I rejected this one almost immediately, too easy to get myself in trouble with this unless I wrote about water balloons or something.

The second was “shortbread”.  Now this one had some promise.  I decided to run with it.

So I did.

Little Mary Ann Johnston donned her green uniform and grabbed her order form.  She yelled as she headed out the door, “Bye Mom, I’m going to sell cookies.”

“OK dear don’t forget about your tennis lesson at one.”

“Got it Mom, have fun with your garden club.”

Mary Ann had mapped out her route in detail before she began.  Elm Street was where she was to start today.  She headed that way.

The first door she knocked on was the Jones house.  They were always good for at least three boxes of shortbread.

“Good morning Mary Ann,” said Mrs. Jones as she swung open the front door.

“Good morning to you Mrs. Jones.  Its cookie time again, our favorite time of year.  Shall I mark you down for shortbreads?  How many boxes would you like?”

“Oh Mary Ann, I just bought five boxes not more than 20 minutes ago.  I couldn’t possibly get more than that.  Why, I’d get as big as a house.  The girls were from your troop.  I thought you had sent them here.”

“That’s OK Mrs. Jones.  They must have gotten confused.  Thanks for supporting the scouts.”  Mary Ann smiled and turned back towards the street.

When she got back down the walkway she was steamed.  Somebody was moving into her territory.  This meant war.

Mary Ann went back to Third Street.  She decided to check the perimeter of today’s grid and find the interlopers.  She did not have to go far.  On Apple, just two streets down she saw them.  It was Helen and Barbie.  They were pulling a wagon with Barbie’s little sister, Skipper.

Mary Ann picked up a branch from beneath the Larson’s persimmon tree and headed towards the other girls.

Helen saw her first and elbowed Barbie in the ribs.  Both girls stopped and watched Mary Ann advance, slapping the branch into her open palm with each step.

“Hi Mary Ann,” said Helen with honey dripping off each word.  “What are you doing here?”

“The question is not what I’m doing here,” Mary Ann said, “It’s what are you doing here you snotty bitch?  This is my territory, you can’t sell here.”

“Can too”
Time is up. Put down your writing implements and step away from the paper.

Sleepin’ on Submarines

Daily Prompt: Mr. Sandman

 What kind of sleeper are you? Do you drop off like a stone and awaken refreshed, or do you need pitch black and silence to drift off to dream?


Electronics Technician First Class R.V. Winkle finished his breakfast, put his plate and cup in the window for the Mess Cooks to wash, and headed to upper level on the after ladder, to ESM.  He needed to calibrate one of the display units there and Chief Irving had promised to meet him, be his “Safety Watch”.  There was 15,000 volts running around in that display and RV didn’t want to be sticking his hands in there without a safety watch.

“Mornin’ Chief” RV said when he slid the door open and spotted his Division Chief snoozing on the bench.

“Hey Rip, how was breakfast today?”

“Pretty good, I guess.  Petey’s cookin’ but even he can’t fuck up powdered eggs any worse than they already are.”

The boat had been at sea for almost two months, and the crew had been eating powdered eggs for breakfast a while now.  Actually the boat had been gone from port longer than that, but they had been underwater for almost two months, this time.

“Who’s got the watch Chief?” RV asked.

“Beauford does,” Chief Irving said. “He stuck his head in here a bit ago then went to Control to plot the NavSystem offsets.”

ESM was small. The space for a crewmember to work was about six feet long and less than three feet wide.  The outboard side was all electronic equipment that the ET of the Watch would operate when the boat was at Periscope Depth.  The inboard side of the room had a three foot long bench, where the Chief had been napping, and a safe.  There was a work table that could be folded down from the inboard wall.  When it was folded down there was about fourteen inches between the edge of the table and the face of the arrayed electronics.  The bench was unusable when the table was deployed.

The Chief stood up, stepped aft and turned sideways.  RV slid forward, past him.  This was a dance the entire crew knew well.  You did it every time you met someone in a passageway.  Space is limited on these Anemone class boats.

The calibration did not take long and when completed they secured the equipment. Chief Irving headed to the goat locker to catch some rack time.  RV went to control to check in with Beauford and found him talking with the Quartermaster looking at the charts.  He looked at the depth gauge and saw they were deep.

“What’s shaking Beauf?”

“Not much man, I’m exhausted.  Worked on quals the entire time between watches but made some good progress.”

RV looked at him and could see he was tired. “Why don’t you go hit the rack, Beauford?  I’ll take your watch”

“I can’t do that to you Rip.” Beauford said, “You never sleep.”

“My Great, Great, Great, Great, Grandaddy got enough sleep for several generations of Winkles,” RV said, “I don’t need to sleep.”


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Daily Prompt: Young At Heart

Daily Prompt: Young At Heart

What are your thoughts on aging? How will you stay young at heart as you get older?


I opened the letter that had come in the mail and read the handwritten note that comprised the first page.  It was dated July 2004.

 Dear Professor:

I am writing to you because my father recently passed away and I was going through his papers.  I found this one sheet in an envelope with a notation to return the contents to Rick on 12 September 1996.  Rick was my older brother, and my dad had never given the envelope back to him because in 1969 Rick was killed in Vietnam.  Maybe my dad had simply forgotten about the envelope but I think he held on to it because it reminded him of Rick.  It was unopened.

I opened it last week. I am sending it on to you.  I thought you should have it.  Maybe you remember Ricky.


Jim Renton

I rubbed my hand across my face and remembered back. I did remember Rick Renton.  I remembered most of my students but especially the talented ones and the trouble makers.  Rick was both.  I looked at the second page but didn’t read it.  I already knew what it said.

I started the school term the same way every time.  I stood at the lectern in front of them and gazed at their eager faces.  The first class of a new semester was always filled with a herd of freshmen since my class was required for English majors.

They were always so young.  Some were naïve, some were wise already, some were slouches and some were attentive.  These latter were all business, their pencils sharpened, their new notebooks opened and ready. Some of them thought they knew what to expect from these next few years but none of them were really sure.

It was my job to teach them writing but I liked to mix it up a little.  Throw a little life lesson in wherever possible.  After all, I’d been around a while – I knew a bit about life.  I handed out the standard opening assignment.

“Alright class,” I said in my very best ‘Professor’ voice, “This is ‘Writing Theory, Linguistics and Composition 101’. If this is not what you signed up for then you are in the wrong place.” I paused; no one got up and left so I continued. “We’re going to jump right in and write something.  This is a three hour class and we have already used twelve minutes of it.” I glanced at my watch.  “Make sure you put your name, date, and the name of this class at the top of your page.”

“You have up to 60 minutes to write, no more.  I want you to write about getting older, but not just in a biological sense.  I want you to write about all the aspects of getting older.  I want to know about what you hope to learn as you age and grow, I want to know about how you plan to stay sharp.  I want to know about your career path. Your family, all that stuff that you dream about.  Write it down.  When you finish bring your paper to me.”  I set the timer and watched them go to work.

The first one to finish was a young man with jeans and a flannel shirt.  He had taken about three minutes.  His long dark hair was pulled back into a pony tail.  As he approached my desk I pointed towards the copy machine, “make one copy, give me the copy, and keep the original for yourself. Grab an envelope from the desk and go back to your seat.”

He did as I requested, came back, slid a single sheet of copy paper in front of me, returned to his chair and put his head down.  I glanced at the few lines he had written.  They read:

Richard Renton
September 12, 1966
Linguistics and Composition 101

I’m going to be rich and famous – a rock star. I’m going to live forever. I’m going to have people to take care of me.

No one else finished until about 45 minutes had passed.  Then they started to trickle up to the front.  I had each of them take an envelope, and make a copy to leave with me.  After the hour had elapsed I got the remaining students to turn in their compositions and gave them all a short break.

When they were all done and back in the class, I told them about the second part of the assignment.  I am going to have you put your composition in the envelope and address it to yourself.  I want you to give it to your brother, your sister, your parents, your wife, or your husband, someone who you will remain in contact with for a long time. I want you to give it to them with instructions to return it to you in 30 years.  So you can see how you did.


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Daily Prompt: Three Coins in the Fountain

Daily Prompt: Three Coins in the Fountain

Have you ever tossed a coin or two into a fountain and made a wish? Did it come true?


It was a full moon last night and it happened again.  It always seems to happen when the moon is full or at least damn close to being full.  I gotta get a new job, maybe.

This is how it played out.

The three kids came into the store about 10:00 PM.  They spread out.  I just knew they were going to steal something.  That’s how they work.  Why does this always happen on my shift?

The kid with the torn jeans and blue t-shirt headed back to the cooler where we kept the beer.  “Hey,” I shouted towards the coolers, “we always ID ya know.”

I shifted my gaze to the skinny girl with the dirty, stringy hair.  She was pacing up and down the candy aisle.  She turned on her attitude, looked at me and asked, “Do I gotta have a ID for a candy bar too?  Jeeze what a shitbird you are, can’t ya see we’re customers?”

I frowned and swiveled my head to the third kid.  She was just stepping around from behind the magazine rack, smoothing her oversized shirt. I knew she had just lifted something.  Probably something stupid, like a dumb fashion magazine. Or that other fish wrap that masqueraded as news.  I hoped she hadn’t taken that one.  It was our final copy and I hadn’t read about the Ohio woman yet.  I never read the articles.  I just get them for the pictures.

“I need to ask you to put that back, young lady” I said to her.

“Put what back?” She asked and raised her eyebrows.  “What are you talkin’ about?  Are you accusing me o’ sumpin?  We don’t need to take this from you” she said and turned towards the door.  “Come on Mickey, come on Mike – let’s split.”

“Don’t make me do this.” I said quietly.  I reached into my pocket and pulled out 75 cents, three quarters.

“Do what?” the skinny girl growled as she started walking towards me.  “What do you think you can do?”

I closed my eyes, made a wish and threw the quarters onto the floor.

It got quiet, it got still.  I opened my eyes and the kids were gone.  There were three cheap beers on the floor by the cooler.  Four Almond Joys were scattered between my counter and where the girl with the dirty hair had been. I came out from behind the counter and moved around the magazine rack.  There it was. “Ohio Woman takes Martian Lover” the headline read.  I picked the paper up and put it on the counter so I could read it later.

As I was gathering the candy bars I thought, Sometimes it’s good to work at Wishing Well Liquor.  You never know when you might need a wish to come true.


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  36. Daily Prompt: Three Coins in the Fountain- Psychological Reason of Why We Do It | Journeyman
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  48. Daily Prompt: Three Coins in the Fountain | My name is Ellie and this is who I am.
  49. When You Wish Upon a Coin | djgarcia94
  50. Wishing Anew | The Giardino Journey
  51. Daily Prompt: Three Coins In The Fountain | Chronicles of an Anglo Swiss
  52. Wish what you may | Emovere
  53. That Stupid Smile | Views Splash!
  54. Answers to Calls | The Word Trance
  55. The pond. | real talk and reverie
  56. Cinderella | U Be Cute – Follow the child inside of you…
  57. So where did the daily prompt go? | As I See It
  58. Daily Prompt: Three Coins in a Fountain | That Montreal Girl
  59. A Wish Upon A Fountain | B.Kaotic
  60. From the Horseshoe to the Singing Fountain | Never Finished
  61. Daily prompt: Forget the fountain, just gimme the wish | helen meikle’s scribblefest
  63. Daily Prompt: Three Coins in the Fountain | lessialiral
  64. Throwin’ good money after bad… | Willow’s Corner