Storytime Sunday is a weekly event hosted by A Writer Named Charley. Anyone can join! Simply do the following:
- Write from the NEW writing prompt. (May be stated as “Next Week’s”)
- Feature the piece on your blog or submit to email@example.com before midnight on Friday!
- Make sure to use the image above!
- Share, read, and repeat on Sunday with #StorytimeSundayWriter!
Last Week’s Prompt:
Written by: Charley
Title: The Porch
Donna sits on her steel wired porch chair staring at the clouds rolling into the colorful city. The city covers itself in drab gray as if scared its brilliant colors will run away with the raindrops. A morning peace descends upon Donna’s terrace outside her dingy apartment, the only apartment she could afford a few months ago. Now, Donna prays each day for a new one. The once glamorous, adventurous Donna Caddahou hit rock bottom in May. Her mind wanders back to the day she dumped her green canvas army duffel bag onto the sunburnt orange tiling in the apartment. Just a fixer upper she told herself. Now, as she sits upon the cold metal chair outside, she tells herself to just pack up and run away. Run again. Run away from her problems, but not far from her loves of adventure and danger. The past few months, however, she forgot to tell herself this past phrase each morning. Donna tries to remind herself now, but her heart is too far gone from the careless years to return.
Donna closes her eyes and leans back as far as she dares in the creaky old chair towards the quickly darkening sky. Just a few minutes she tells herself. But her mind does not allow her to stay in the present. The sky reminds her of the day in May that once was sunny.
May flowers! People yell up and down the streets. Her New York accent allows Donna to become a magnet for the merchants lining the cobblestone lanes with the towering houses surrounding her making her feel like a caged lion about to be let loose. Hello there many a man’s eyes seem to say as her body is forced to brush against their own. Donna keeps her head down but one man decides that will not do. Roughly he grabs her arm and drags her down to the stones. Thrashing her head about her eyes do not see a friend in the crowd. Instead, the other men lean towards her as if they became the towering buildings caging her in. A final thought arrives before Donna can see no more: Never will the lion be released.
Jerking herself upright in the porch chair, Donna pushes her trembling body up from the cold seat. Just leave she tells herself, repeating it until she believes she actually will. Breathing in and out to release the tension from her limbs and muscles, Donna leans against the loose railing around her terrace. She takes a final glance towards the clouds now above herself and makes a final prayer: Let my lion roar. As if the heavens hear Donna, finally the rain pours down. The water covers her skin and her body, rinsing her mind of the horrors her brain became overtaken with a few months ago. Quickly, Donna pulls herself out of her mind to go inside. She closes the glass doors behind her before climbing into the newly-made queen-sized bed she bought with last month’s pay. Before Donna falls asleep a final thought arrives: I find peace in the rain.
Next Week’s Prompt:
Don’t forget to use this prompt for next week’s post! And please do use the prompts instead of the titles of my piece of writing! I’ve seen a few people do this, but I still love to see all the wonderful pieces everybody writes.
~ A Writer Named Charley~
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