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 firstname.lastname@example.org before midnight on Friday!
- Make sure to use the image above!
- Share, read, and repeat on Sunday with #StorytimeSundayWriter
Last Week’s Prompt:
Note: This piece is still a work in progress (WIP) and severely unedited. While the beginning of the story may not show the use of bottled emotions, they do come into play.
Theo flipped the bottles high into the air creating applause as he successfully caught the bottles of alcohol behind his back before shaking the flavors together in the silver container in front of him. He stood behind the bar, a place his father reminded him he didn’t have to work. Theo felt comfortable behind the bar, however, like a second home. A quick glance in front of himself left Theo’s mind an image many guys pay lots of money for, girls dancing on stages in next to nothing clothes. Except for a few “elite” girls, as his father called them, every female in the building danced each night on the two stages on either side of the double-door entryway.
“Boss kid,” a fellow co-worker, Jason, called down the bar counter.
“Hey now,” Theo said lowering his voice to a threatening tone, “You know how I feel about that.” The customers in front of the bar began whispering to one another before Theo flashed the dazzlingly white smile of his many girls swooned over. Not the girls in The Mansion, though. Never the girls from The Mansion. His father, Marcus, made sure his girls never felt anything emotional.
Theo looked towards the front of the the old warehouse his father made his business years ago to the girls dancing on the wooden stages. Hanging from the ceiling were white, twinkling lights creating the illusion of a night sky filled with stars. Varying skin and hair colors danced together, against each other, creating waves among the gentlemen sitting at white-clothed tables around the stage. With each move a girl made, a new gentlemen would stand up and move to put money in jars lining the edge of the stage. The girls moved with elegance Theo never saw anywhere else, not that he left The Mansion often.
Turning away at the sound of a fist pounding on the bar’s other countertop, Theo saw a familiar face with his eyebrows raised. “Theo, what did I tell you about working the bar,” Marcus Crawford, Theo’s father, nearly shouted. But Marcus Crawford never shouted. Marcus Crawford was always correct.
“Keep your eyes off the girls and on the drinks.”
“Good, now pour me my drink,” Marcus said, sliding his hands outwards across the glossed countertop. “You’ll get your tip later.” His eyebrows flicked upwards, hinting at what he considered “tips” instead of actual money before he turned away back towards the glass cages and the VIP section. Only a few other men in suits joined Theo’s father in the section behind the bar. The VIP section held Marcus’ elite girls, the ones he fancied to keep for himself at the end of the night. Laughter rang from their tables as the male servant on the side injected the girl with the chosen emotion of the night: Joyful. The yellowing label lit up as the spotlight moved up the elite girl’s tan legs to the smile on her face. Her blue hair fell down her back as she removed the hair tie holding it in a messy bun. Theo turn away before Father noticed and continued serving drinks throughout the night.
Next Week’s Prompt:
(Sorry for the lack of a picture.)
Start a story or poem with the phrase…
I SHOULD HAVE READ THE CONTRACT.
Have fun! What do you think of my WIP so far? I have a Pinterest inspiration board for it and a Twitter thread for all my updates. Check them out. Remember to share your pieces with #StorytimeSundayWriter.
Much love, XOXO,
-A Writer Named Charley