Storytime Sunday is a weekly event hosted by A Writer Named Charley. Anyone can join! Just 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 on social media!
Last Week’s Prompt:
Note: This prompt, again, resulted in a short story idea. The piece below is proofread very quickly before being posted here. I have no idea what the title will be yet, but if you have any ideas for it, let me know! Also, this is just the first part of the story, obviously. Thank you!
Title: (WIP Coffee Shop)
“Sorry, I think I grabbed your drink by accident.” I look up and see a guy, not quite a man but relaxed enough to be a guy, standing in front of my corner area on the second floor. The waitress was supposed to bring it up to me along with my lemon scone like she always does. “You seriously drink that,” he asks as he sets it on the table and slides into the booth. The strange guy begins talking as if we’ve known each other since childhood, telling me about his day and such. Inside I begin to hyperventilate from a chance in my normally tightly scheduled environment. Granted, the tight schedule is just me sitting here in this booth trying to finish a book I’ve been writing for seven years. “Sorry, I completely forgot to introduce myself.” The guy laughs at himself before finally saying his name. “I’m Rick.” I groan. Apparently it was audible.
“Seriously, a Rick? Ricks are always jerks.” The words fly out of my mouth faster than I could type them. And I have a seventy-five words a minute typing speed. For some strange reason, Rick smiles a grin like the classic kid in a candy store. “What are you grinning about?” I shut the laptop in front of me and pull my journal closer in case he has a mental breakdown or something.
“I finally got you to talk. Always works like a charm. Normally, though, the people start talking once I say ‘I grabbed your drink by accident.’, and they’re saying it’s okay up the wazoo. But you… you made me work for it.” He sits with his callused hand under his stubbled chin.
“Yes, well… my parents always did tell me not to talk to strangers,” I reply, copying his position.
“But then, how can you make friends?” His brown eyes begin to twinkle in anticipation and joy at my awkwardness in conversations.
“Well, you don’t. Goodbye.” I dismiss Rick by opening my laptop back open and typing. Rather I should say pretending to type. Writer’s block has had me in its grips for the past few years. And before that, life got in the way. I have a million and one reasons why this book has not been finished in its seven years of glory. He doesn’t budge. “I said goodbye,” I repeat, slower, making sure to enunciate each syllable sound.
“Oh, I heard you. But I made it my official job to make you like me now.” Rick brushes his long, curly, brown hair out of his face and behind his ears.
“Oh yeah, because long-haired Ricks is just my kind of thing to fall in love with.” My
cheeks blush at the idea of falling in love. “Plus, I already have a boyfriend.” I shrug my shoulders like it’s no big deal which by now it isn’t.
“Yeah? What’s his name?” Rick smiles, thinking he caught me in a lie.
“Caleb. Blonde hair. Green eyes. Works in an office building just off of Seventh Avenue.
He wears a suit everyday to work and makes big money.” I nod my head to the side and raise my eyebrows in an attempt to seem cool and like I have my life together.
“Caleb, huh? Calebs are jerks.” His smile never leaves his face, even when trying to be serious. I can see the corners of his rosy lips trying to curve down, but by sheer muscle strength his face never becomes serious it seems. Quickly, I glance away before he notices I’m staring at his mouth. “Actually…once… nope. Never mind. Never met a nice Caleb. Is yours nice?”
“Well…” I begin, trying to figure out how to not embarrass myself.
“If you have to start it by saying ‘Well…’, then he’s a jerk.” He tilts his head and purses his lip as if he was just proven right.
“My Caleb is different. He just takes a little bit to get warmed up to for some people.” I nearly gag at how ridiculous I sound.
“That is the most ridiculous excuse I have ever heard come out of your mouth,” Rick states, actually with a straight face. He acts as if we have known each other forever. “You could hear yourself say that, right?” His smile quickly returns before he looks at his watch. I glance across the room to a giant dialog clock and see, surprisingly, twenty minutes have passed. “Well, I have to go. I actually have a job. Hard to believe, right? That’s why I’ve been considering leaving, but the money is super good. But that is a conversation for another time, old friend, right?” Rick slides out of the corner booth and pushes back the curtains that have fallen down from where I tucked them up. He walks to the top of the stairs across the room, but he pauses before heading down them. “My full name is Maverick Johnson, by the way. In case you wanted to stalk me on Facebook or something.” He winks and begins to walk down the stairs, but I stop him.
“Wait!” I shout the word across the room before I can stop myself. “My name is Annabelle Matin. In case, you know, you wanted to do the same.” A smile bursts across my face and is mirrored on Maverick’s face as well.
“Will do, Annabelle Matin. Will do.” Maverick finally heads down the stairs, pulling his hair back into a bun, and a hop in his step.
Next Week’s Prompt:
Don’t forget to feel free to post this above post (NEXT WEEK) on your blog and/or share it on social media (#StorytimeSundayWriter). Also, feel free to email me with an attachment (or simply copy it straight into the email) with your story you want featured right on my blog! Make sure to share the news of this feature with all your writers!