Prompts Writing Prompts #256 & #257
Uh oh, is it Friday already? Where did the week go? I swear I was, well, never mind. So here we are again ladies and gents about to face another weekend. Some of us just keep right on going about our lives while others are preparing for school or have just returned. Before everyone is overwhelmed, well, I have a few things for you to look over and consider. Might you have time to write one more little story? It is prompt time.
Prompt 256 – Creative
Tag - List of Words
Use the following in a story – apple tree, broken fence, horse, phone, and a doctor.
Prompt 257 – Creative
Tag – Encounter
It has been years since you have even thought about your first love. However they were on the news today and before you had a chance to find out why there is a knock on your front door. As you answer you find yourself face to face with them. What brought about this encounter?
Last week we had takers for both prompts and someone even went back to dig out one of the older prompts and did a good job with it as well. However, I was touched by Sasha Distan's take on prompt 254. The original prompt asked you to use the first line "Since when is that acceptable?”
Biker Boys
“Since when is that acceptable?” Gary could barely contain the rage in his voice as he stared at his son, “At what point did you decide that that was going to be acceptable?”
Father and son looked at each other across the kitchen table for a long moment before Hadley turned around and stomped upstairs. He’d should have known. Things between them had been going so well. Hadley sat on his bed and stared at the Honda racing poster on the back of his door. He should have known that his father was just bottling up all the things that were annoying him about his son.
Hadley touched the pad of one finger to the cling film that covered his new tattoo and sighed. He loved the tattoo, the black and colours and the shading… it was excellent. He was really happy with it, and the three hundred quid it had cost. It wasn’t the money that his father was upset about, he’d saved up, it was his money to spend. He was nineteen, he could make his own decisions. Hadley laid back on his bed and stared at the ceiling.
When he had announced that he wasn’t going to university, his father had sighed, argued, tried to show him the advantages of campus life, but eventually relented.
When he had started working at the garage, working with bikes, coming home every day covered in oil: Gary had been cool, mostly, pleased that he was making money, getting on with his co-workers.
Then he’d found out about the racing.
Hadley had managed to keep the dirt bike racing secret, all through school. Lyall had been the one with the bike, then bikes after his fourteenth birthday when his parents had bought him a new Kawasaki dirt racer and the little Honda starter had been all Hadley had been able think about every waking moment from then on in. Lyall’s parents had been rather laid back about their sort-of-adoption of their oldest son’s best friend: and had taken him to races, paid his entrances fees, cheered him on and bought him burgers and chips afterwards. Lyall’s sixteenth birthday was in the same week as his, three days before, and there had been a pair of Aprilia RRV450’s sitting in the garage and one had been sprayed bright yellow. Hadley had spent the next two years winning and competing on that thing until the day he’d unthinkingly pulled up in the driveway to grab a different jacket and his father had been home.
Gary had hauled his arse over hot coals, shout, screamed, then not spoken to him for weeks. Like four whole weeks. He’d made Hadley give the bike back, even though the license and the registration had been in his own name and Hadley had walked out of the house. He couldn’t stay with Lyall, because it would be the first place his father would look, and had spent two sleepless nights kipping in the back of Ian’s purple and green racing mini. Going home with his tail tucked between his legs had not been fun.
And now this. Hadley couldn’t see what his father was so worked up about. It was a tattoo, and an awesome one at that. He’d had the artist do a slightly Japanese style rendition of his favourite photo; an image showing himself and Lyall on their bikes, riding into the sunset. The blood and flame colours that spilled up his shoulder from his shoulder blade made him gloriously happy. It was a picture of him and his best friend on the best day of his life. How could it be possibly be inappropriate?
Hadley spent a while clicking around the internet on his phone, sent the pics of the tattoo to Lyall, Ian and a couple of guys from the shop, checked on his email and read through the latest spec on the updated Kawasaki Ninja. It was a nice bike, but pointlessly overpowered for use on the roads. He found a second hand Ducati 749 online for a decent price and sighed heavily. It was a good bike, and he was qualified to have it. Hadley dropped the phone into his lap and pulled out his wallet.
There is was. It was awesome that it had come through on the same day as his appointment for the tat. It had been one of those things that you hoped would happen, but never actually do. He’d taken the test for the top class racing license, and now here is was in front of him. He could race, he could ride whatever he wanted, and he had a test run with the Ducati racing satellite team next week.
Now you know there is more to the story and I'm sure you want to read it. You can find Sasha's story and a lot more here - http://www.gayauthors.org/forums/topic/37497-prompt-254-creative/
Our other prompt from last week had a number of attempts as well and they can be found here - http://www.gayauthors.org/forums/topic/37498-prompt-255-creative/
Don't forget to read, review, and let the authors know what you liked about their work.
If you are feeling that you have grown and are ready to join the bigger writing crowd don't forget the Fall Anthology. The subject is Pandora's Box and has to be submitted by the 8th. So get cracking and create something wonderful for us all to read.
Till next week everyone, enjoy.
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