Sunday writing chat prompts for 31 Oct 2021

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    • #7684

      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: canvas, skate, plaintiff, auditor, thinker. (10 min)

      2. Use the phrase, “Which one is it?” (10 min)

      3. Write about an absurd challenge. (10 min)

    • #7685

      “What,” Jen said, “am I going to do with you?”

      She seemed to ask that a lot. At work, she could avoid me, or not, just as she liked. After work, she could always leave, I suppose, but she didn’t. “Is this where I say ‘Anything you want to?’ Or is that still coming.”

      “You’re sort of acting like a blank canvas, waiting for something creative to happen. For somebody creative to happen by and paint.”

      “I was thinking in terms of a balance sheet, ready for the auditor. A rap sheet for the plaintiff.”

      “I think you mean prosecutor,” said Jen.

      “Yeah that,” said Sam.

      “A cartoon bubble awaiting a thinker, that’s what you are.”

      “Think me,” said Sam. He laughed.

      “What time is it?”

      “Eleven thirty.”

      “The party is just getting started. You wanna change before we go?”

      “Where…” Sam was confused. “I sort of have classes and stuff tomorrow.”

      “Sort of,” Jen said. “This’ll be edumacational. You’ve been riding bicycles since you were six. Now it’s time to try skating, see if you like it better.”

      “I lost you at paint,” said Sam.

      “Lock your door,” said Jen. She was holding his hand, tugging toward the outside entrance.

      “Okay okay okay okay,” said Sam. He pulled out his keys.

      “So there’s a rave,” Jen murmured into his ear. “They have it different places, so you have to know somebody who knows somebody.”

      “I kinda don’t, like, smoke or whatever,” said Sam.

      “You’re thinking of hippies. This is not your father’s party.”

      This struck Sam as immensely funny. “I don’t think my dad’s been to a party in my lifetime,” he said.

      “Metaphor, my literal business-minded boy,” said Jen. “I never met a four, uh, foursome I didn’t want to… uh… Wow, that took a left turn in the middle of coming out.”

      “This is where I repeat that you lost me at paint,” said Sam.

      “C’mon. I’ll show you. We’re almost there.”

      Wherever there was, Sam was thinking, when a door opened in the otherwise featureless wall that was around the corner, kind of behind the Orpheum. He figured the space must be used for something… And besides the wall wasn’t exactly featureless, it had old windows in it that had been bricked up and painted over, besides the one functional door.

      The lobby of the old theater had two rest rooms, marked “We” and “They.” Sam turned around to make fun of that into Jen’s ear.

      She turned him around again and someone had replaced the signs with “Gays” and “straights.” She giggled.

      He did not.

      “Which one will it be?” Jen asked.

      “I… uh…” said Sam.

      “You say that a lot,” said Jen. “C’mere.” And she grabbed his elbow and pulled him in through the door marked Gays. “See? Just like the other one. Nothing going on except people using the facilities.”

      Ooookay then, Sam was thinking, and not for the first time since Jen had tumbled into his life. “And you know about the other one because…”

      Jen shrugged, and dragged him out of one restroom and immediately into the other one. “Folks are just folks,” she said. “Besides, probably somebody will change the labels before we come out.”

      “Come out of the water closet?” Sam said, and laughed at his own joke.

      “There actually is a rave here tonight, if we ever make it past the lobby,” Jen said.

      The main floor had been cleared of seats and a DJ was playing music that was way too loud. People were dancing. At first Sam thought it was total chaos, but it turned out that most people on the floor were with someone. Or sometwo, Sam told himself, watching such a group go by.

      “Heyyyy,” said a remarkably buff guy taking ahold of Sam’s other elbow. “Don’t just stand there with your hands in your pockets, dance!”

      Sam checked him out, but he vanished, leaving… an odd taste in the air in his wake. He turned to say something to Jen but she had vanished. “Well, like, whatever,” Sam said out loud, but nobody’s ear was close enough to hear. He recognized some of the music, but beyond that, his feet recognized the beat and the sprung rhythm, and they started moving without consulting him.

    • #7686

      I was hoping my move would provide me with a blank canvas where I could easily avoid these women. Honestly, I had no idea of the appeal. Sure, I’m decent enough in the looks department and am a doctor, but the West End is full of doctors and these girls don’t seem to be the type to let a little thing like a wedding ring stand in their way.

      I wasn’t extravagant with gifts when I was dating Denice, or anyone, for that matter. My auditor says I’m in good financial shape but I’m not a rich man, especially after buying my house. Vancouver housing isn’t cheap.

      Even my car is a few years old and not very flashy. Although, I did rent that Lamborghini last summer for my birthday. But that was after I broke up with Denice. Maybe that’s what gave them the wrong idea?

      None of the women seem to be thinkers. They would have realized I’m not that great a catch if they were. They seem to be hoping to skate by on their looks and snag a sugar-daddy.

      Well, that will not be me.

      I settled back behind my desk, prepping for my next appointment, when Andrea knocked on my door.

      “Hate to bother you.”

      “After dealing with those three, you deserve to be able to bother me whenever you want.” I wiped my hands down my face, exhausted by the day already. “What’s up?”

      “They left, and then one came back alone.”

      “Crap on a cracker, which one is it.”

      “Trini,” she rolled her eyes. “The vampy one, and in that group, that’s saying something.”

      “What does she want?” I was almost afraid to ask.

      “She says she won’t leave here until she talks to you, privately.”

      “This has to stop.” I stood and strode past Andrea. She’d already stepped out of the way. “If she is still here in after I’ve said my piece, call the police. We have her on tape acknowledging she understands she’d being recorded.”

      I’d barely made it out of my office when Trini came barreling down the hall toward me. Quite the feat, considering the ridiculous stilettos she was wearing. “You are toying with us.” She accused like a lawyer for the plaintiff. “You are playing with our feelings and I will not stand for it anymore.”

      She was smarter than I’d given her credit for. She’d moved away from where the camera and microphones were set up in the reception area.

      I brushed by her, forcing her to follow me back out to the front of my office. There would be no private, off camera, tete a tete.

      “Trini, you have been asked to leave. Why are you still here?”

      “I left.” She giggled and reached out to stroke her fingers down my chest. “I just came back.”

      I side-stepped her outstretched arm. “Why?”

      “Because I want you.” She tried again. “Why are you being so mean?”

      “Because I don’t want you. Any of you to be honest. I’m tired of avoiding you.”

      “Then just give in. We’ll take good care of you. I bet, if you gave us a chance, you’d like it.” She pouted, “I bet a big, powerful guy like you could handle all three of us with ease.”

      “That’s absurd. Get out.” I pointed to the door. “Get out of my office and if your shadows as much as cross the threshold, I will have you arrested for trespassing.”

      “You don’t mean that.” She said with a pout that looked too well practiced to be genuine.

      “Get. Out.”

      Her expression changed from pout to fury. “You’re going to regret rejecting us.”

      “I doubt it, my big regret is ever meeting you.

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