Thank goodness, it's finally time for the November edition of 300 Words - the Paragraph Prompt featured in our monthly Just Write! enewsletter for writers. (If you don't receive Just Write! and would like to, just lick here to sign up or email Amy.) Let's see what we came up with for the last month's lovely line:
"Her heart swelled full of love and gratitude as she opened the box and saw what was inside..."
Her heart swelled full of love and gratitude as she opened the box and saw what was inside. Prior to that, he hadn’t thought about what to do, but instinctually fought the huge attraction of the blue green shiny balls and headed for the door. It was there that a white box lay with big letters carefully written in large and bold strokes. “Welcome Sarah, please open me!” A smaller box was inside.
She stopped for a moment to reassess. She didn’t know much about farms, but everything seemed normal. The sheep were so close that she could smell them and the sheepdog was barking at their heels. The bright sun made the rolling grass seem almost alive.
Then she heard it. A tiny voice was saying something that she couldn’t understand. It didn’t seem that far away. So she walked toward it and realized that it was a tiny chorus of voices that was coming from the grass. She got on her knees and looked and listened. Each blade of grass had a tiny human like head and they all seemed excited. She put her ear as close and she could to them and could clearly hear what they were all yelling. “Don’t open the box!”
It was then that the farmhouse door opened and two giant distorted beings with three eyes looked around in a way that made her realize that they couldn’t see very well. She decided to not move. Maybe they wouldn’t see her.
One of them took the box and threw it right over her head, with no apparent knowledge that she was there. The other one grunted something that was unintelligible but troubling. They both slobbered so much that here was a trail of liquid next to them. (to be continued).
From Amy (at Forsooth & Forsythia):
Her heart swelled full of love and gratitude as she opened the box and saw what was inside.
The last time she had seen this tiny, beautiful, chiseled lady, Dory had been just six years old.
“She saved it for me. For all these years.”
Her mind raced wildly, trying to comprehend how it was possible. After Grandfather died, Grandmother was forced to come live with her son, Dory’s dad. Always the practical matriarch, Grandmother only brought the most necessary items, plus a few family heirlooms: the copper teapot that had been a wedding present from Grandfather, the handmade quilt passed down for four generations, a set of silver spoons passed down from Dory’s great-great grandmother. But the brooch – well, Dory had never once seen it again after Grandmother moved into the small back bedroom of their brownstone.
At first, Grandmother had kept meticulous care of her treasures. For years. Until she no longer could.
As Grandmother’s mind slipped away, all her beloved belongings did, too. The teapot suspiciously went missing after that visit from Aunt Anne (who had always admired it so). The quilt was claimed for Cousin Edward’s new baby. The spoons reluctantly handed down to Aunt Bessie after months of guilt about her not getting the quilt or the teapot.
All the items were gone now. And Grandmother was too.
So when Dory was summoned to the will reading, she thought it was a formality. She never expected the small white box or the cameo wrapped carefully inside it. Grandmother had hid its existence for decades. By keeping it quiet she kept it safe for her beloved granddaughter.
Dory sat awestruck, remembering the first time she had seen the brooch, when she had admired it wholeheartedly, claiming in that charming awestruck way only a child can that it was the most beautiful thing in the whole world. Remembering the look on Grandmother’s face as she smiled back at Dory. Remembering her words.
“Then one day it will be yours, my love.”
from Mary Jo (at maryjoartist.com):
His heart swelled full of love and gratitude as he opened the box and saw what was inside. There it was, the tiny piece of wood that looked like a monkey’s finger. How old was he when his brother told him it really was a monkey’s finger? Six or seven?
That kind of trickery went on all those years. Love and distrust don’t mix. But the love he felt during those torturous years was stronger than the misery. Or was it adoration like towards a cartoon Superman.
His big brother did pull him out of the neighbor’s pool when they snuck in the rich people’s yard late at night. They could see the house lit up, no regard to expense.
The lights go out; we bolt. He followed every order of his superhero with no mind of his own. He stripped down to his shorts and with terror got into the dark giant pool.
Chlorine stung his nose. “Oil man. They owe us. Didn’t Robin Hood take from the rich and give to the poor?”
So cold and so small, in a second, he slipped under. He didn’t think he would come out alive until he felt his brother tug at his shorts. He shot up. His gasps echoed off the tiles.
Worse than that time, he remembered, was when he was accused of stealing their Mother’s Sees’ candy. He almost peed watching his adored brother point the chocolate covered finger at him. So many years later and he still trembled. Tears rolled down his face. He stared at the stupid monkey finger. Then as quick as a flash he tossed the thing into the wood burning fireplace.
Now, himself an old man and the big brother in the funny farm. Serves the bastard right.
The fire continued to flare.
Thank you for reading (and/or participating in) this month's 300 Words! Hope to see you back next month. If you haven't already, sign up for the Just Write enews so you can always know about our writer groups, resources, classes, activities, and the like. Tell your friends and write on!
Questions? Comments? Ready to submit your 300 Words? Email Amy@villagebooks.com!