This week, the Story Dam writing community challenged us with the following: (See the original prompt here.)
- Dam Burst – You get to play the part of the gift (Mwah ha ha!) Write a piece in which you, the gift, have fulfilled your destiny—to be given to someone… only they don’t want you. Good luck!
- Wet Feet – Write a piece (fiction or non) in which you or your character has either returned a gift received, or had that happen after a gift given.
Here’s my take on the prompt. Enjoy! Constructive criticism always welcome and encouraged!
“Mom, I’m just not ready for this.”
“No, there’s no one else… yes, I know I’m not getting any younger, but it’s not like I’m 30 either.”
“Mom! Stop it! Do not try to guilt me into this. It’s my decision.”
“Yes, I am fully aware that Bobby has been in love with me since we were kids. I was there, remember? He used to push me down in the playground and pull my hair; thinking he was flirting when he was really just being a jerk.”
“He never left home, mom. I don’t want to be one of those girls who ends up working at the Dine and Dash or Opal’s until I can’t walk anymore. I like being in the city. I like being away from cow pastures and dirt roads that will never take me anywhere I want to go.”
“I don’t care, mom. I’m not you.”
“I have the day off tomorrow. I’m taking it back to him.”
“Of course I will stop by… it has not been that long, mom.”
“Fine, yes. Ok, ok. See you tomorrow. I love you too.”
She pushed the ‘end’ button on her cell phone and slumped against the arm of the couch. Across the room on her entertainment center sat a small, felt covered, cardboard jewelry box. She hadn’t opened it. When she got home from eating a long fondue dinner with her friends, she saw the box on her doorstep and a note trapped between the screen door and frame.
Billy had been there. She didn’t know for how long. He had scribbled an incoherent, babbling note professing something about not liking her being in the city where it wasn’t safe, and asking her to open the box if she was willing to come ‘home’.
Typical of him not to just come out with it. She thought.
She had a three-hour drive back to Greenville. An hour and a half into it, she reached over and opened the box. She removed the tiny solitaire engagement ring and turned it over, and over, in her hand. She didn’t look at it. She just stared at the lines on the road.
What are you doing? He put a lot of thought into me. In fact, he was so nervous he almost didn’t get me at all. I don’t know your story, but I’m starting to wonder why he acted that way. True, I’m nothing fancy. I’m not be that big, but he chose me to be the sign of his devotion to you. He can’t say it. He’s scared. He talked me to death on the way back from Samuals.
Look! See the little scratch on my side? He accidentally dropped me under the furnace when he was practicing what he was going to say to you. Neither of us slept that night. Every few minutes, he would roll over and pick me up. His hands are as warm as his heart, but you don’t even know what they feel like.
Why won’t you give him a chance? I will never mean as much to anyone else. He chose me. That’s the way it works. We aren’t like dogs or cars. Anybody can own one of those. We are more like greeting cards. We exist, but we come alive once assigned. I belong with you. I can never truly belong to anyone else. I am forever attached to you. Just put me on and I will always be there for you. We’re destined.
“What the hell am I doing?” She yelled at herself; then hit the gas.
Ring image retrieved from ht tp://www.walmart. com/ip/1-3-Carat-Round-Diamond-Solitaire-Engagement-Ring-in-10kt-Yellow-Gold/17209689