Writing to a prompt

For years I struggled with this, but lately I have found it to be a fun challenge

Have you ever tried writing to a prompt?

For many years I would challenge myself sometimes, I would spend hours searching for a good prompt and then write for more hours- but I was always frustrated. It never felt like “me.”

The funny thing about back then was that I was always picking prompts that I thought spoke to my writing style, not choosing a writing style to fit the prompt. Which I guess sounds different than I mean it, but I digress…

When a couple of friends started a writers group twice a month a few months back, I JUMPED at the opportunity. What’s funny about that is that I knew I would be challenged the most because one of the rules of this writers group was actually sharing what I write and being ready for feedback. (It’s also the part that excited me the most- I know, I’m a writer that actually likes constructive criticism, thrives on it even.)

So anyway, I figured I would share here some of the pieces I have written to a prompt. If you want to write something to the prompt, feel free to share it with me. If you just want to read mine and go about your day, I’m good with that too.

This prompt is: One thousand words on a confession. Enjoy!

“The candles are too much.” I breathe out as I hurry over to blow them out. While I watch the haze of smoke I wipe a tear from under my eye.

Candles usually signify calm in my life, and I am anything but calm as I ready for him to walk in the house this evening.

All week I have been preparing myself for this moment. If I’m honest, it's been a long time coming, but only last Saturday did I have the resolve to pull off the proverbial band-aid.

Exhaling, I place my palm flat on my rounded stomach and feel myself breathe in again. “You can do this.” I whisper to myself.

The door cracks open and the tell-tale sound of his shoes on the tile, keys being hung up, and bag being set down all mark the end of the normalcy we used to have. After tonight I won’t hear those sounds any more.

I ball my hands into fists and roll my shoulders back as I sit down on the sofa, seconds before he calls out, “Lonnie, I’m home!”

“In here, Artie.”

When he rounds the corner and sees me sitting on the grey couch we bought last year I feel my chest tighten. The way he casually drops down on the opposite end of the sofa reminds me of how little he has paid attention over the years.

“What a week.” he says flatly, running his hands down his clean shaven face until he reaches his tie, which he proceeds to loosen.

Our house is eerily silent when I say nothing back. The silence only bothering me as made evident by him reaching his hand towards me.

I pull my hand from my lap, to my chest and turn slightly to face him. “Yes. It has been.” I’m amazed at how calm my voice sounds while my heart is beating a mile a minute and my skin heats up.

“What shall we do tonight, love? I was thinking dinner at Oswego’s sounds nice. We deserve a good bottle of wine and a good steak.” He turns his face and looks at me. “What…What is happening? Why are you so rigid?” Arthur sits up straight, concern on his face.

“I don’t feel like going anywhere. We need to talk.” I swipe a rogue tear from my cheek, cursing it for appearing out of nowhere.

He stands, and moves himself to sit on the coffee table in front of me. “What do we need to talk about, Lonnie?” he asks quietly.

“Everything, Artie. Everything.” I look to the floor where his feet are straddling mine, and will the tears to wait a little longer.

Arthur leans towards me and places his large warm hands on my thighs, slowly rubbing his thumbs back and forth—a move that used to calm me, but now makes me want to recoil. I won’t let it deter me.

While he tries to get me to look at him, I prepare myself for the words I’m about to say with a deep breath.

“I need to say what I’m about to say and not get interrupted. Can you handle that?” for the first time tonight I look at him. Worry is all over his face, a face I know almost better than my own. Slowly, he nods, his mouth pulled down at the corners.

“Our life has been a good one. We balanced each other for many, many years. I have a lot of fond memories through the years and I will always be grateful for that.” I pause, taking another breath and lowering my gaze again, unable to face him as I say the next part. “It’s no secret that I miss the kids. This house is too big for me to dawdle around in, alone all day. I have worked with my therapist to try and find things to fill my time, but nothing is working.

“I’m ready to live my life, Artie. I have been something to someone else for so long that I don’t even know anything about myself beyond what I see in the mirror. My likes have always been whatever makes you and the kids happy, my wants only for you and the kids to be happy. I don’t know ME.”

Arthur pulls his hands back to his own lap, sitting up straight as he does so, and opens his mouth.

I raise my hand before I continue, “There’s nothing you can say to change my mind…”

“I bet there is, Lonnie. If you’d let me say something right now.” His voice interrupts, filled with a sternness I have only heard him use when the kids were little.

I look at him and nod, “Okay, go ahead.”

As if he didn't expect me to allow him to speak, he looks stunned. Running his hands up and down his thighs I watch him take in a deep breath and speak on the exhale, “I have a confession.” he breathes out, his eyes filling with tears suddenly.

I don’t know what he's about to say, but my entire body is filled with a deep dread that I can't explain. I was so sure of how this conversation was going to go that I never considered him saying anything beyond arguing with me to stay. Hesitantly I lock my eyes on his and tilt my head, “What?”

Arthur’s tears spill down his face, “I never thought I could be this man, Lonnie. Please know that.”

I am suddenly cold and hot all at once, my hearing seems to fade. “What kind of man?” I ask, not wanting to hear the answer.

“The kind of man to ask his wife of 30 years for a divorce.” he breaks into sobs.

My tears finally fall freely, and I welcome them. Allowing myself to soak in this turn of events.

Let me know what you think.

Until next time