Hey everyone,

Welcome to (or welcome back to) Writing Prompts &, where I shared with you a prompt from one of the many writing classes I’ve taken and the zero draft it inspired. All writing shared here is a true first draft, created in the span of ten minutes, and has not been edited or revised.

For this one, we need to go all the way to back to August 9, 2020. A Sunday afternoon. I had spent the day working on my first novel and took a break…to do a writing class because why not.

I don’t know that there’s any story surrounding the day itself, but I remember, specifically, the writing really flowing that day. Don’t you love that when the thing that you’re doing gets you into a serious flow and you lose track of time? It’s true magic.

But this day was one of many that summer that made me feel as if leaving teaching and pursuing a writing career was possible.

So, let’s get into it. Shall we?

Prompt: Games

This is what I wrote.

That’s how Joey chipped his front tooth.

We were playing tag when the street lamps came on. The sun, not quite set. The fireflies danced on the lawns, dodging our little hands as we tried to catch them, even though we were running from imaginary danger.

Our parents stood on their porches, yelling our names like sirens calls. But we weren’t ready to go inside.

My lungs burned as I ran and tapped the giant oak in my front yard that we designated home base.

Joey stepped out from behind the tree and stood in front of me, his hands clasped. His jeans were worn at the knees and covered in mud.

“Whatcha got there?” I asked, leaning toward his hands.

“A gift, for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” I was so gullible back then.

He opened his hands and the fire fly flew into my face, bumping my nose. Joey laughed the hearty, deep throated chuckled of an 8 year old boy. The dust chased his heels as he ran away. I followed him as fast as my 6 year old legs could carry me.

“I’m gonna get you, Joey Fischini,” I yelled.

He turned back, his face taunting. And that’s when he fell. Tripped on a branch. His feet tangling up in one another. His face hitting the lip of the uneven sidewalk.

I froze. All the mothers ran from their porches and shooshed and soothed poor Joey.

I couldn’t help but feel like it was all my fault.

Final Thoughts

That’s it for now, folks.

Feel free to use the prompt for your own writing. And, as always, have fun!

Wishing you a week of words that flow freely and stories that feel as though they tell themselves. AND FLOW! I wish you flow!!