Sunday writing chat prompts for 5 Dec 2021

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    • #8253
      Broker
      Participant

      The Sunday Brunch Prompted Writing Chat is an opportunity each week to test your skills at writing under pressure — or to have some fun without the need to be brilliant — or both!

      The prompts are intended as both as a challenge and a starting point, open to creative interpretation. You can use these as an excuse to write anything that comes to mind, whether it’s fiction or creative non-fiction or a mixture of both. You can write a separate piece for each prompt, or try to link them all together in a single story.

      If you join in the chat, you can add “an excuse to complain about unfair prompts” to the entertainment, too. But even if you can’t attend the chat session, feel free to give the prompts a try anyway (and leave your responses, comments, or complaints in this thread if you like).

      This week’s prompts are posted below.

      1. Use the following five words: confession, pony, welcome, distant, elect. (10 min)
      2. Use the phrase, “Is that the beer talking?” (10 min)
      3. Write about walking away from something familiar. (10 min)
      • This topic was modified 1 month, 2 weeks ago by Broker.
    • #8254
      Sue
      Participant

      I couldn’t believe I asked her where we went from here. I cursed myself as soon as the words left my mouth. Yet, I needed to know. As soon as I saw her again, I wanted her in my life as more than just my son’s mother. It was like a puzzle piece I didn’t realize was missing just clicked into place.

      It was like a ‘duhh’ moment. Suddenly, it was clear why no one ever seemed to be suitable. I’d always assumed it was because I’d been so hurt by my fiancee’s desertion. But the way I felt at seeing May again left no doubt. I was the memory of her no one else could measure up to.

      Now that I know this, how could I make a confession to May without sounding like a kid who just got the pony he’d asked for Christmas over thirty years ago. Yeah, that wasn’t the form of “Welcome back into my life.” statement I wanted to make.

      But I did want her back in my life. That wasn’t a question.

      Did she want anything to do with me?

      Did our distant past together help or hinder my chances?

      Would Chris be all right with me attempting to pick up where were left off?He knows I didn’t desert them on purpose but could he have lingering resentment that he had to go through life without a father.

      So many questions and they weren’t going to be solved with me lingering on May’s front porch like a lunatic.

      I shook myself out of my stupor and got into my truck and drove away. I elected to head back mo my hotel after stopping at NB Liquor to get a six pack of beer. After the past couple of weeks I felt I needed a beer. I’d refrained until now because I wanted to make sure my mind was clear while dealing with all my emotions about learning I had a son. I didn’t want to regret a word or action there I had to ask myself, “Is that the beer talking.”

      This whole situation is rife with potholes, no sense trying to navigate it with stumbling feet.

      At the hotel, I wondered about what I would have done if I’d given in and went to see her after our tryst. For the millionth time in the past two weeks, I wished I’d followed through on my impulse to see her again. Instead I’d convinced myself it wasn’t that special. It had just been a weekend when we were both vulnerable. Had I gone back, I convinced myself it would ruin the illusion of magic.

      I’d just had my dreams dashed, there was no sense killing the fantasy surrounding May, too.

      Even back then, the day I walked away from May it felt like I was walking away from something familiar. She’d filled the aching hole with comfort, leaving another one that I didn’t realize was so big until I learned I had a son. It wasn’t much different today when I left her home. She felt so familiar, despite only knowing her for forty-eight hours, thirty-odd years ago.

    • #8255
      Broker
      Participant

      “Seriously,” Stephan said. He stopped to take a swig of his beer. He examined the label. “Red Pony. Should be some kind of rabbit, it’s so hoppy.”

      Becca laughed politely. Jim and his household were gathered on the other side of the patio.

      “But I interrupted myself,” said Stephan. “Where does all this wisdom about queer relationships come from? Ours is almost straight.”

      The younger folk tuned in again. Not that they’d been all that distant, but if Becca was about to dispense some wisdom, they all knew they should listen.

      “Well…” said Becca. “A few little stories first. Junior high school. We had this class on chemistry and physics and I was totally eating it up. Like, welcome to the secrets of the universe eating it up. And my teacher came over before class one day and looked down at me. I was tiny, grew up later than most people. Little flat-chested kid in tights and a miniskirt, hair nearly to my waist, which Mom still braided every morning. It might have been coming apart by then. He told me girls shouldn’t do physics. Maybe chemistry.”

      “Ruh-roh,” said Stephan.

      “‘Why is that, do you think?’ I asked him. ‘Is it hormones or something genetic?’ What I didn’t tell him is… Well, maybe it’s true confession time after all. Anyway, I aced all of his tests and never looked back.”

      “You’re not just wiser than anybody I know, you’re smarter than I am, and I’m happy you let me bask in the glow,” said Stephan.

      “Is that the beer talking?” said Becca. “You’re no slouch yourself.”

      “I guess I’m sort of hoping the beer I fed you will do some talking,” said Stephan. “These Becca as young girl stories are always fascinating.”

      “Curated,” said Becca.

      “OK,” said Stephan. “I’m getting more interested by the moment. But only if you elect to share.”

      “Thank you,” said Becca. “I… kind of don’t talk about it much. Like, maybe at all. My folks were pretty enlightened for the 1970s. Mort and Naomi Grossman. They were real lifesavers for a kid growing up queer.”

      Stephan took another sip on his beer, and set it down on the table between them, still half full.

      “I was… well, five, I think. Maybe six. And Mom wanted to know what was wrong so I sat them down at the table like a business meeting, and told them there was something I needed to tell them and that I needed them to believe me. I was afraid they wouldn’t, because… Well, who knows. I was five. “I’m a girl,” I told them.

      And the world didn’t end, I wasn’t sent to bed without my supper or anything. It was just… like… okay, how are we gonna help our kid out? I’m still amazed. Because I was pretty despondent, as I remember things. Figuring out that boys grow up to be men and girls grow up to be women and just how wrong it felt.”

      “I want to hug that little girl,” said Stephan.

      “You do hug her older self a lot,” said Becca. She picked up her beer, drained what little was left, and took Stephan’s.

      “I don’t think I knew you were trans, Mom,” said Jim. “So where did I come from?”

      “You’ll remember our former next-door neighbor? The one with the fertility clinic?” said Becca. “I don’t really talk about it, because it’s not relevant to my life now. People change a lot from age five up, whether they’re queer or not. It was the perfect time for it; they’d figured out enough about puberty and hormones and stuff to block all that until I was old enough to decide things for myself. There were a few things that were awkward, but I’m happy with my life the way it turned out. Couldn’t ask for a better relationship. The kid’s pretty wonderful, too.”

      “Thanks,” father and son said together.

      “Is there more beer?” Becca asked. “I’m feeling kind of wrung out or something.”

      “Fair enough,” said Jim. He looked around and got nonverbal orders from the family. “Huh. We really are a family,” he said. “All five of us.” And he let himself into the house in search of beer.

      “Thank you, my son,” Becca said when he handed her another.

      “Thank you,” said Jim, “for everything you’ve done, becoming the person you are, sharing it with all of us. Helping us younger folks figure out what living queer in a straight world is about.”

      “Paying it forward or something,” said Becca.

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