I found a writing prompt the other day and decided to challenge myself. A prompt is when you are given a story setup and must complete an X number word count story. For example: Your a little girl, whose mother sent you on a journey to your grandmom's house. Along the way, you come face to face with a big, bad wolf...see? Anyway, I got a prompt and wrote this little quickie in about half hour. Let me premise though...I haven't mastered endings.
“I don’t know why it’s so hard to clean week-old spaghetti sauce from marble kitchen floors. But here I am, scraping away on my hands and knees. God Dylan! Can’t you learn to wipe your spills when they happen?” A 10-year old Dylan sat atop the counter island watching his mother utilize all her fancy yet impractical clean up gadgets, while licking the last of his Snickers ice cream bar.
“It makes absolutely no sense I tell you!” She said then removed her smock and gloves. She pushed her hair back, out of her face and straightened her dress before answering the doorbell.
“Good afternoon ma’am, are you Lila Wright?”
“No I’m not, sorry.” Although she noticed the stretch Maybach and at the end of the driveway, it didn’t peak her curiosity enough to let this tall, dark suited man continue his conversation. She shut the door. He rang the bell two more times.
“Yes?” She asked irritatingly.
“Does Lila Wright live here? I’m sure we are at the right address.”
“And I’m sure I know who I am. What is your business anyway?” She peeked behind him at the window of the Maybach slowing rolling down but it was too far away to make out the figure exactly.
“It’s confidential and Mr. Washington does not like to wait. If you know where we can find this woman, perhaps she is a neighbor or something?”
“Mr. Washington who?” Now curiosity was getting the best of her.
“Denzel Washington.”
“Wait. Did you say Lila? I’m sorry, but it’s pronounced Lee-la. The ‘i’ has an ‘e’ sound.”
“It does?”
“Yes, yes, I’m so sorry that you had to play such a hard game of name that girl.” She giggled. “It’s just that people always mess up my name and I never know who to trust. Why don’t you come in, or do you want me to come out?” She was clearly winging it but thoroughly enjoying it. Denzel Washington! Imagine that! If what was happening was seriously a reality and not the outcome of cleaning chemical fumes floating around in her brain, then Lila…Leela…Wright was who she was about to be.
“Since you and Mr. Washington are scheduled for a 12:30 lunch, if you’re ready then we can head out.”
“Oh. Oh, okay, yes. Let me grab my things and I’ll, oh my, lunch? Okay, give me a minute.” She left the door open and bee-lined for the stairs. Dylan had come around the corner, down the hallway and witnessed the whole thing before taking the last bite of his ice cream bar. The tall man returned to the car and informed that “Lila” would be out soon. Upstairs, she could be heard stomping, yelling and flinging things about. Three minutes later, Dylan met her at the bottom of the stairway with sticky hands and chocolate on his cheeks.
“Honey, oh my god! Do you know who is in that car out there? Do you know this is mommy’s dream come true? All that praying has finally paid off and that $200 I gave the church last week…woohoo!”
“But mom you’re not the girl they’re looking for.”
“This is a good time to teach you a very important lesson.” She bent down and grabbed his shoulders. “Sometimes, like that spaghetti sauce, you have to enjoy what’s in front of you and worry about cleaning up the messes later. Even if I don’t get any further than down the block, I will never regret this lie. Ha ha!” She kissed his forehead and rushed out the door.
**By the way here was my prompt:
The person of your dreams shows up on your doorstep, asking if you'd like to go out for coffee. You are suprised and confused, but you say yes. At the coffee shop as he/she is talking, you discover that he/she thinks you are someone else. Instead of coming clean, you go with it. - The Writers Digest
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