Daily Prompt · writing

Daily Prompt: Sounds Right

Daily Prompt: Sounds Right

 This is clearly subjective, but some words really sound like the thing they describe (personal favorites: puffin; bulbous; fidgeting). Do you have an example of such a word (or, alternatively, of a word that sounds like the exact opposite of what it refers to)? What do you think creates this effect?

Lucy dealt the cards around the table and said to no one in particular, “I just don’t know what I’m gonna do with that girl of mine. This morning I think she was trying to play hooky, stay home from school. But I made her go anyway. She didn’t fool me.”

“What happened, Luce?”

“Well, y’all knew that she dyed her hair pitch black a while back. She says it makes her look pensive and goth, whatever that means. I think she’s just trying to look mysterious. It’s that new crowd at school she’s fallen in with and that new boyfriend calls himself ‘Dawg’. He wears more makeup than any girl I ever met. Just weird, I tell you. I would never go out with a man who wore more makeup than me. ‘Cept maybe that weather man on channel 13 – you know, the one in the morning.”

The other girls all nodded and Bea even licked her lips. They all agreed that was one fine looking weatherman.

“Well, she got up and sulked through breakfast then went upstairs to get dressed. That ‘Dawg’ came to pick her up for school. I heard the doorbell but I figgered I knew who it was, and it wasn’t for me, so I didn’t bother. I heard her run down the stairs and open the door. Then ‘Dawg’ says, ‘Wow, baby. You look sick!’ so I rushed out to see what was wrong.”

“Was she OK?” Bea asked, clearly caught up in the story.

“Well, she did look kinda puny but I could tell it was just too much white makeup on her face and I told her so. I told her, ‘You do look a bit ill but you can’t fool me. I can tell it’s just white makeup and too much eyeliner. Go wash your face and get your ass to school.’

“She and ‘Dawg’hightailed it outta there and she yelled back at me that she’d have to wash her face at school. Didn’t want to be late you know.”

The other girls clucked their tongues and shook their heads. Such a transparent attempt at trickery, what are these kids thinking?

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The texture of things. As revealed by the judicious application of shadow.

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Daily Prompt · writing

Daily Prompt: Think Again

Daily Prompt: Think Again

 Tell us about a time you made a false assumption about a person or a place — how did they prove you wrong?

A day late.


Thirty-five year old Marie Escobar came out of the Jiffy Mart with a pack of cigarettes and a candy bar. She was on her way home from school and the kids had been intolerable today. They were fidgety, inattentative, uncontrollable, and talkative. She had no doubt that she would have to re-cover a lot of information tomorrow or they would all fail the quiz she had planned for the end of the week. Well, except maybe Donna.

Donna was the smartest kid in the entire fifth grade. She just seemed to understand things intuitively. That girl was going to go far.

Marie paused by the trash bin in front of the store to open the pack of Marlboros. She removed the cellophane and foil from the top and dropped them on the ground next to the bin. The breeze immediately picked them up and sent them tumbling along the front of the store. She watched as a young man came around the corner of the store and bent down quickly to pick up the rolling sliver of foil. He was one of those hippies. Get in the car quick.

Hurrying to her five year old Chevy Impala Marie slid quickly behind the wheel, shut and locked the door. Those hippies are all on drugs, she thought. It makes them erratic and unpredictable. She shoved the key into the ignition and turned it as he dropped the litter into the bin.





The hippie turned and looked at her. The fringe hanging from the sleeves of his leather jacket waved in the wind as he pulled his hair back and behind his shoulders.

Oh no, he’s coming over here.

He signaled her to roll down the window using the universal hand sign, moving his hand in circles, emulating the operation of the window crank. Feeling trapped, she lowered it about an inch.

“Problem?” he asked.

“It won’t start.” She replied.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back.” He turned and walked into the Jiffy Mart.

Oh my God. He’s probably going to kill me. Or worse. He’s probably crazed on pot. What am I going to do?


Damn this car.

He came back out with a bottle of coke and opened it with something he had on his key ring. He took a big swallow, and smiled at her as he lifted the hood on her car. She couldn’t see what he was doing and it made her nervous. She leaned down and peeked through the bottom of the windscreen using the opening formed below the raised hood.

That hippie was pouring coke onto what looked like green moss clumped on one of her battery cables, right where it hooked on the battery. She watched as the mound of green melted away. He poured a little more, then leaned his head around.

“Try it now.”

She turned the key and her beloved automobile started right up.


The hippie lowered the hood and closed it gently. He came around to the window and speaking into the narrow crack said, “You probably want to clean those battery terminals when you get home. Nice car.”

Miss Escobar sat in the idling car and watched him walk away. She closed her mouth and realized that she wasn’t dead. Or worse.

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