This week’s prompts are at the bottom. Feel free to seize the prompts, twist them, form them, play with them as you will. All comers are welcome. The words below are just practice for me. I had a lot of fun writing them, and you know what I always say, “Practice makes perfect.”
Here’s how to play along, if you are unsure.
It’s Monday morning, and I drag into work, put my butt solidly in my chair, and cup my chin with my hand as I stare blankly at the unlit screen perched atop my desk.
It’s dark outside and dark inside; it’s that time of year when the nights are too long and the days are too short. I am blessed to see the sun only on weekends.
At 0750, I reach down and boot up the mini-tower computer that crouches below the desk. The monitor, at which I have been staring blankly, is next. After powering the flat screen, I spread some papers and files on the desk. Promptly at 0800, Mr Fraser, the boss, comes in and takes his place. He prefers his desk away from the windows and next to an inside wall. There’s nothing to see out the window, and the glass is always cold – ice forming on the inside.
I saw the sun yesterday, but only briefly before the snow flew. My brother, Kevin, lives further north, in Northern Quebec; he goes months without sunshine – and says, “If it’s dark outside, it’s Monday, and if it’s not Monday, then it should be.”
We have a staff meeting every workday morning at 0900 sharp.
At 0850, I rise and make my way to the kitchen for coffee, passing the desk of Catherine Levesque, the most beautiful girl in all Quebec who is, today, wearing a long-sleeved white cotton blouse that she has paired with a black leather mini skirt. She must have been cold on the bus this morning.
I know she has a rose and a dagger tattooed on her shoulder, just below her clavicle, and I wonder what it means.
“Good morning, Catherine,” I greet her.
“Bon matin, TN,” she replies and smiles at me. I almost pee my pants. Catherine guards her smiles closely. She is known to be stingy with them. Today, I am the luckiest man alive.
In the meeting, I dream of her smile when Mr Fraser interrupts my thoughts to ask me about a spending overage. There seems to be an overage on the Bumstead Locomotive account. I do not hear him; I am staring over his head at the point where the two outside walls meet the ceiling, but eventually, I jump about the third time he yells my name.
“Sorry, sir?” I query him and then bumble my reply after he reiterates the question.
“Come see me after the meeting, TN.”
I nod and make up my mind that this afternoon, I will ask Catherine out to Café Chez ma Cousine on the weekend. It is a rumour around the village that Marie-Pierre Leduc will be singing there on Saturday night.
I sincerely hope that Catherine could like folk music. Folk music with just a hint of anarchy.
This week’s prompts are:
- truth becomes imperative
- you wanted more
- we played Monopoly all night
You can start writing whenever you want, just write, get the words down – and have fun!