Writing Prompt: Day 78

78.jpgDay 78 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Your character is reunited with a childhood neighbor years after the family moved away.

Shannon: “Abigail,” a guy I didn’t recognize stood in front of me with a questioning look.

“Yes,” I nodded, not sure how he knew my name.

“I thought so, you still look so much like you did when we were kids. Do you recognize me?”

He gave me a familiar goofy face and suddenly it hit me, “Daniel? No way,” I exclaimed a little too loud for being in a library, and I immediately regretted the slip-up as I looked around at the annoyed faces.

He laughed, “You want to go outside, so we can actually talk.”

“Good idea,” I nodded and we headed to park bench outside the building. Once we sat down I couldn’t hold in my curiosity any longer, “So are you going to school here now, or are you just visiting someone?”

“I’m a student. I transferred here for my second year, because I change my major to Film Production, and the program here is amazing. What’s your major?”

“Fashion and Apparel Design. I always knew you’d want to do something with videos. Remember when you used to film those home videos and make me and my siblings act in them? That was so much fun,” I smiled, reminiscing.

“How could I forget, and you always wanted full control over putting together the costumes. You’re major is perfect for you too. Also, I still have those videos by the way,” he raised his eyebrows.

“Noooo,” I half-giggled, half-moaned. “Never show them to anyone please,” I begged.

“Too late, but they’re not as bad as you think, and admit that you’re a little curious. Even if watching involves a little torture,” he pinched his fingers together.

I rolled my eyes. He still had the same persuasive gift that he could always use against me in the past. “Ok, a little. And I’m even more interested in what you’ve done since then. I imagine the videos didn’t end when you moved.”

“Not a chance, so I guess we’ve got a lot a catching up to do this year. That is if you’re not just humoring me right now,” he shrugged.

“No, that would be great,” I agreed.

Erin: “Kat is that you,” I hear a random woman’s voice that sounded overly excited.

I turned around and my brain took a second to process what I was seeing. “DG,” I said once I realized the little girl hidden under the woman I was looking at.

“Yes, it’s been forever. Are you in the intern program too,” she was practically squealing. The little fireball I knew was not stolen from her with age.

“Yes,” I stammered not knowing what to say to someone who was such a big part of my childhood but then disappeared out of nowhere.

“It’s been too long, we’re going out. But first I have this meeting,” she ran off. And we did. She moved out at 10, but 10 years later it was like nothing had changed. We shaped each other’s childhood and we would shape each other’s adulthood. We learned our lesson, ten years of distance didn’t have to mean we couldn’t be neighbors. Closeness had nothing to do with miles, and we never forgot that.

Reuniting your characters could be fun?

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One thought on “Writing Prompt: Day 78

  1. Olive strutted through the door of the bar like she owned the world, her four-inch heels clacking on the newly-varnished hardwood. With a faux (at least, I hoped it was fake) fur hanging around her neck and a skin-tight alabaster dress, I wouldn’t have recognized the girl I knew. After glancing around for an available table, to no avail, she sauntered up to the bar and hopped up onto one of the faded leather stools. Slamming a studded clutch against the shiny stone bar top, she rooted around for a phone without looking up.
    Before I could say anything, her cell buzzed angrily against her silicone claws and she spun the chair around for a big of privacy, not that the open restaurant didn’t have gawkers. It must’ve been a cancellation since she argued heatedly for a moment, then her put together stance shattered and shoulders dropped. Twirling the squeaking chair back around, she sighed loudly and carefully slid the pink-cased phone into her bag.
    “I’ll have a scotch on the rocks, barkeep,” her voice didn’t match her getup; it was low and forceful like back when I knew her. When she finally glanced in my direction with her piercing olive eyes, she did a quick double-take as I was filling her glass, “Heather?” Recognition danced like stars in her eyes as she laughed to herself, “You look exactly like you always did; plain but gorgeous.” There was still no sugar-coating any opinion, or fact, when it came to Olive and I was pleased to learn that not everything had changed completely.
    Sliding the amber liquid across the short bar, I spoke in a shy tone, “Well, one of us had to keep to the status quo.” Last we knew each other, just after grade six, when her mother nabbed a millionaire to fill the hole her father left, Olive was a tomboy with short hair simply because it made her life easier. Now, the dirty blonde locks hanging about her thin face were nearly plastered to her head and the band-emblazoned t-shirts were a thing of the past.
    When she noticed my eyes, she just smiled like a fox and leaned forward, “Yeah, I know, right? Why in the hell did I ever put up with dirt under my fingernails when I could have all this?” pointing out her sleek outfit, the strange woman flicked her hair back and chuckled. “I left this rich idiot my stepdad thought I’d like for, hmmm, I can’t even remember his name,” wiggling her finger before my face to show off a set of diamond-studded rings that would make anyone drool, she gossiped. “Number four,” she mouthed silently with the same wicked smile playing at her lips.
    All I could do was smiled pleasantly, like I did with any inebriated clientele any night, and reminded myself that people change all the time. Even if I didn’t change, Olive had every right to become whoever she wanted to be, just as I could have. When she drained the whole glass, leaving the ice cubes to chase each other around the bottom, I nodded at her.
    “Yeah, another please,” her attitude was small, now, like someone who’d lost everything they had and hadn’t been given enough time to understand it. She gripped my hand as I touched the glass, forcing me to look into her brilliant eyes, “Heather, how do you look so calm and content? You have nothing compared to what I have.” Releasing me, she tapped her nails impatiently on the counter, glancing hungrily at the other patrons.
    Chuckling darkly, I poured her more scotch, letting the fiery liquid settle under my watchful eye before looking at her again. “I own this seedy little bar in the middle of a sketchy alleyway with no parking to be found. Three floors up, my two dogs are likely barking at the cat across the street whose owner is sitting in the far corner with his biker buddies. But I am alive and I managed to put a sliver of money away for a date with my boyfriend next week.” In awe of my boring life, Olive was mesmerised from her high and mighty throne. Staring into the unforgiving glass, I continued soberly, “I’m happy because I get to come to work every day and go home every night to the best pets I could ask for, and an apartment with everything I need to survive,” pausing, I looked one of my first real friend’s in the eye, “I don’t just survive; I thrive.”
    We chatted a bit about benign things after that; relationships, family and how our tiny town had nearly been blown off the map by a devastating fire. But when it came down to last call, Olive looked me in the eye and said her goodbyes with a tear in her eye for our lost years. I went to fill a regular’s glass, and she was gone. Left behind was a small stack of bills, enough to cover her tab several times over, and a note that read, “Thanks for catching up with me.”

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