I know that many of you look forward to these Friday Prompt's, and we would hate to disappoint. Once again we bring you two prompts by the amazing Comicfan. Both of these look quite interesting and I might even try one out myself. Don't forget to share your prompt in the Writing Prompt Forum.

Prompt 156 – Creative
Cue – Nightmare
You haven’t been sleeping lately, In fact you have been having this really horrible nightmare nearly every night. The only problem is, you are pretty sure you haven’t gone to sleep and everything is starting to happen like it did in your nightmare. What is happening?

Prompt 157 – Creative
Cue – No Good Deed
You met them on the side of the road. They had just had a flat tire and no spare. You gave them a lift up the road to the nearest gas station where they could get help. Six months later, a cop comes knocking on your door to ask you about that day. Seems someone slit their throats and the owner of the gas station. Seems your good deed might end up with you facing a murder conviction. What happened?

Now that you have the Prompts for this week, it's time to look back at a past prompt response. Since there were no responses to last weeks prompts, today we're going to look at a response from Prompt #134 written by Podiumdavis and called "A Heart of Gold". Enjoy!

Prompt: 134
Use the following words in a story.
Gravesite, balloons, pregnant woman, cold cereal, and an old book.

Today was the day; the one I’ve dreaded most these past few days. Today was going to be the day I put my father to rest. A heart attack, of all things, my mother had informed me over the phone a few days previous.

 

How could this be? My father, Jerry, was an ex-Olympian. He’d competed in the summer Olympics as a swimmer twenty years ago, he was strong, had a good heart; or so we believed. He won a gold medal for our proud nation that year and would show it off proudly to anyone who’d ask about it.

 

That morning I dragged myself out of bed, shaved, showered and headed towards the kitchen. I quickly found a note from my wife, Sharon, saying that she’d left to help my mother with some of the arrangements, flowers, food, and the likes. Sharon was always the type to find a place where she was needed and would jump right in; one of the things I loved about her, so kind and generous. Beside the note laid a bowl of cold cereal waiting for my consumption, with a glass of orange juice and milk.

 

I took a seat, poured some milk onto my breakfast, and stared off into blank space. It was in that moment I saw a photo of my father resting on the wall, proudly holding his gold medal upon the podium of which he won it, smiling. It was then that it hit me like a freight train; the weight of losing my father was heart wrenching for me. I tried to tell myself to remember the good times, just like we’d talked about two weeks ago, him and me.

That's just a snippet, to read the rest go to A Heart of Gold