No Surprise

“I can’t believe you got so drunk at the homecoming dance last night,” Linda said. “What were you thinking, Steve?”

Steve groaned. “Leave me alone, can’t you see I’m in agony?”

“And well you deserve to be, you cheater. I saw you leave the gymnasium holding hands with that hussy, Lisa Bloom. And to think she was once my best friend.”

“Oh stop, Linda,” Steve said. “She’s planning a surprise party for your eighteenth birthday and wanted to talk with me about how to pull it off.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s not all she wanted to pull off behind the gym.”

“Oh my god, Linda,” Steve said. “You’re so insecure. You need to learn to stop being so quick to run to judgment. Now I’m going to have to call Lisa back and tell her the surprise party is out.”

Linda reached over and hugged Steve. “Don’t call Lisa. I’ll pretend to be surprised.”


Written for these daily prompts: Your Daily Word Prompt (drunk), Ragtag Daily Prompt (homecoming), The Daily Spur (agony), MMA Storytime (cheater), and Word of the Day Challenge (bloom).

#writephoto — The Prodigal Son

After Richard graduated from high school, he realized that, unless he followed in the footsteps of all the males in his family for generations, he had no prospects for employment in the small company town in West Virginia. He could not abide by the thought of working in the coal mine, the town’s only real employer for able-bodied young men.

Richard’s departure had been sudden and unexpected to all but himself. Even though he didn’t know where he would go or what he would do, he did know that he needed to embark on his journey of self-discovery. And so Richard quietly packed up his meager belongings and disappeared before dawn one morning.

He figured that no one would miss him. He was, after all, a loner. He had few friends and even his parents complained that he had been a cold, aloof child. He was never quite sure if he was that way because it was just in his nature to keep his distance from others or if he acted that way because that’s how everyone told him he was. In the end, though, it didn’t matter. He left and didn’t look back.

Although he vowed that he would never return, Richard found himself standing on the ridge of the hill looking down at the small town where he had been born and raised. It was hard for him to believe that five whole years had passed since he’d last been to the place he used to call home.

During his absence, Richard had finally discovered who he was. He was still a loner, still aloof, but now he was okay with being that way. Those were the characteristics that gave him the self-sufficiency and confidence to make it on his own. And now it was time for the prodigal son to go home for a long overdue homecoming. It was time to reintroduce himself to his family.

If they would have him.


Written for Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt. The idea is to use the photo above and this week’s prompt word, “return,” to write our story. And speaking of return, I’m so happy that Sue is feeling well enough, after having been seriously ill, to return to posting brand new #writephoto prompts.

FOWC with Fandango — Homecoming

FOWCWelcome to May 30, 2020 and to Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (aka, FOWC). It’s designed to fill the void after WordPress bailed on its daily one-word prompt.

I will be posting each day’s word just after midnight Pacific Time (US).

Today’s word is “homecoming.”

Write a post using that word. It can be prose, poetry, fiction, non-fiction. It can be any length. It can be just a picture or a drawing if you want. No holds barred, so to speak.

Once you are done, tag your post with #FOWC and create a pingback to this post if you are on WordPress. Or you can simply include a link to your post in the comments.

The issue with pingbacks not showing up seems to have been resolved, but you might check to confirm that your pingback is there. If not, please manually add your link in the comments.

And be sure to read the posts of other bloggers who respond to this prompt. You will marvel at their creativity.

Sunday Photo Fiction — The Homecoming

“It really looks pretty much the same as it did when I was last here thirty years ago,” Chester told his wife. “Blakes, the restaurant and B’nB is still here, I see. But I don’t recall the place next to it being a bridal shop.”

“It’s kinda bleak looking,” Charlotte said to her husband.

“Well, it’s cloudy, it’s late on a Sunday afternoon, and it’s the middle of winter,” Chester said, somewhat defensively. “It’s more alive during the week and during the warmer months.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Charlotte said.

“I thought you’d enjoy seeing the town where I spent my formative years,” Chester said.

“I do, actually,” Charlotte admitted. “It’s quaint and almost storybook-like, perhaps like something out of Dickens.”

“That’s great,” Chester beamed. “I’m so glad you like it. I loved growing up here.”

“Yes,” Charlotte said. “It also explains a lot to me about who you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re so, well, Dickensian, like you should have lived in the 19th century,” Charlotte said.

“Dickensian as in Charles Dickens?”

“Exactly.”

“Well,” said Chester, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”

(192 words)


Written for today’s Sunday Photo Fiction prompt. Photo credit: A Mixed Bag.