Write a brief bit of fiction involving a meal.
Friday Fiction is your opportunity to write a short (short, short, short) story. Many participants use more than one minute for Friday Fiction prompts, and I open up the One-Minute Writing of the Day contest to entries of various lengths.
One-Minute Writing of the Day:
Writer: Missmile
I was standing in line for my usual fast-friday-lunch.
I hadn't seen him since we last spoke, when we broke up and he slammed my door on his way out. I thought that was all.
I was standing in line for my usual lunch. I didn't realice he was there too, a couple of feet ahead of me.
He took his tray and started walking towards me. I started shaking. We couldn't stop staring at eachother. He looked me in the eyes. I started feeling strangely unconfortable and sweaty.
As he was getting closer and closer I stopped listening to the noises of the restaurant and music was in my mind. Everything became slow motion. I felt butterflies in my stomach, all over again, like the first day I met him.
He gently grabbed his drink; and again looked me in the eyes. I started smiling, imagining the movie-style kiss that was comming up.
He grabbed his drink, and at the exact moment I fell in love again, he threw the entire cup in my face.
Him slamming my door was nothing. Maybe me soaking wet in diet coke is going to be enough.
Congratulations on the win, Missmile! I liked the combination of suspense and humor in your story. Feel free to put a One-Minute Writer WINNER! button on your blog!
Monday Micro: Fashion confession
23 hours ago
13 comments:
Hungry...tried it...disappointing recipe...move on to the next!
Dan
i'll have to read up on how to link back to you, but i tried it and enjoyed it. thanks!!
http://itstrueimadeitup.blogspot.com/2009/07/friday-fiction.html
Summer Joy
My mouth fills with juicy ripe strawberries sucked from the stalk and rolled around my mouth. The remaining strawberry pips fill the gaps in my teeth, to be pushed out later by my insistent tongue. We play fight over the biggest fruit, each grabbing the most succulent, greedily pushing the smaller whiter fruit to one side. I know they will be tart and make me catch my breath as their sharpness seizes my taste buds. For now, the sweetness of summer strawberries, snatched untidily from the bush and scoffed hastily causes nothing but summer joy.
http://moggie711.blogspot.com/
Here's another adventure in the story of JADE:
My Muse and Me
It was no good. I couldn't fake it any longer.
I had been away to university for a few months and I'd come back home for Christmas.
My eyes had been opened to a number of new experiences in my time away, not all of them were suitable for sharing over the dinner table though.
I had looked forward to coming home just to catch up with everyone and share this new world with them.
It started with the welcoming party. I was a man now, in my own mind at least. My mum however had other ideas she ran over andhugged me, then she tried holding my hand to lead me in to everyone else.
Had she always done that? I subtly pulled my hand down to my side and followed her in.
One by one the family came over and told me how good it was to see me. Even Jimmy, my younger brother. He seemed to have aged years in a few short months. How must I seem to him?
With the pleasantries out of the way everyone sat down in the lounge. THere was some chatter but I found myself only half listening.
I felt like a stranger in my own home. I kept asking to use the loo, if I could have a glass of water.
What had changed?
We eventually sat down at the dinner table. I had been fortunate to get a roomie who did most of the cooking and he was actually quite good at it. He was like a zen Gordon Ramsay.
The food was served the same way it had been since I was a kid. I was starving and my anticipation was at its height.
I was given my plate Roast Turkey, Brussel Sprouts, Roast Parsnip, Swede, Roast Potatoes smothered in thick Onion Gravy. My heaven of foods. Why we only had it on special occasions I didn't know.
My first bite should have been a warning as I had some of the turkey with a sprout. it was only as I continued and made my way in to the rest of the meal that it came to me.
My innocence was lost. My mum's cooking was no more the pleasure it used to be. Everything was overdone and flavourless. It was an effort to eat it.
Afterwards, I made my excuses and went to the bathroom, the act of cleaning my teeth providing a cleansing in more ways than one.
Joining up with everyone downstairs I looked on again. I had to get to know all here as people, as if i'd first met them. Who I thought they were was now in the past.
Before plunging into it though my Mum came over and gave me a hug.
'It's good to see you again. How was dinner?'
I didn;t feel like faking it to her but I didn't want this first experience tainted with bad memories so I said it was fine. She seemed pleased with that and drifted off to the others.
Each following Christmas I found another excuse as to why I couldn't say something and she carried on in blissful ignorance.
Until, that is, I learned to do it myself and invited her over for dinner.
'mmmm, love. I have to say, I think this is better than my cooking.' she said on that fateful day.
I said nothing. Again.
Was trying to economise in France. The locals were collecting snails from a local cave. I thought I'd do the same, give the snails a try (great in a fricasee, apparently). You have to starve them for 3 days. After 1 day got so sorry for them I let them go. My daughter made them a little snail hotel out of some bricks. This is why we will never be gourmets.
Exhausted, we stopped to eat along the trail, perching on a fallen tree. He hasd a small jar with refritos and four handkerchief wrapped tortillas. I had the entree from an MRE - "Ala King, Chicken". We shared. I definitely got the better part of that deal.
I was standing in line for my usual fast-friday-lunch.
I hadn't seen him since we last spoke, when we broke up and he slammed my door on his way out. I thought that was all.
I was standing in line for my usual lunch. I didn't realice he was there too, a couple of feet ahead of me.
He took his tray and started walking towards me. I started shaking. We couldn't stop staring at eachother. He looked me in the eyes. I started feeling strangely unconfortable and sweaty.
As he was getting closer and closer I stopped listening to the noises of the restaurant and music was in my mind. Everything became slow motion. I felt butterflies in my stomach, all over again, like the first day I met him.
He gently grabbed his drink; and again looked me in the eyes. I started smiling, imagining the movie-style kiss that was comming up.
He grabbed his drink, and at the exact moment I fell in love again, he threw the entire cup in my face.
Him slamming my door was nothing. Maybe me soaking wet in diet coke is going to be enough.
Breakfast at my house is a pretty regular, painful ordeal. See, I hate breakfast. But it's important, right? So, I eat.
Yesterday my boyfriend came over. He made me eggs and toast, and nearly burned down the kitchen. It was so much fun. I was just finishing off my glass of orange juice when something mettalic and cold hit my lips.
"Whatthe-!!" I pulled it out. It was a ring, perfect in every way.
My boyfriend looked at me, took the ring, and got on one knee. "Rachel, will you marry me?" he asked.
He only laughed twice.
I said yes.
This morning, breakfast seems like something I will never again miss.
Oh, this was the meal. He smiled at her. She smiled back. He looked away. They were not together. They were each alone. Then, another came adn sat next to her. It was amazing!
Muffins crumble, which is the first reason buses aren't dining cars. The man in front of me looked hungrier than I. Digestion has seldom been so guilty.
Thanks for the prize!! This is my first time ever winning something!
I stood grasping the kitchen counter. I couldn't find the only can-opener for two days. I feasted on peanut butter sandwiches.
"It was your job to pack up the kitchen!" His gravel voice stoned me as he paced back and forth.
"Now.. with your refusal to get a job, I am forced to come home for lunch and eat t.v. dinners!"
I felt my tears drip off my chin.
"Oh, I get it, so now that you're crying and sorry, it's okay to loose a can opener and not get a job!"
Choking, my back shook violently.My blood-sugar was dangerously low. My lips trembled, and my fingers kept slipping off the counter as I tried to keep my balance. I was spread eagle when I collapsed on the floor.
"OH F*&^%!, OH F*&^%!" He got a bottle of blue Powerade out of the fridge. He crouched on the floor, gently tipping my chin, with his fingers, lifing up my head to give me a drink.
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