Wednesday Writing Prompt (WWP) is a biweekly challenge for you and for me. I’ll post a writing prompt on Wednesday morning. Then anyone who wants to participate can write a 250 to 500 word scene or story in response to it. I’ll post my responses on Thursday. You’re invited to to post your scene or story in the comments of my response post. Let’s see where this wacky world of writing takes us!

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This week’s writing prompt was

I didn’t know what was happening at the time.

They say I should have known. But how could I have known? It was all so loud and crazy and the wind was whipping my t-shirt away from my skin and sending cold blasts down my spine and up my belly.

I didn’t know what was happening at the time. I look back now and I can kind of see what they were getting at. There were signs. There were signals. If I’d been paying attention, I might have seen them.

But I wasn’t paying attention.

I was lovestruck.

I was completely and utterly absorbed in him. I saw him everywhere, in everything. Tomato paste. Yup, there he was. Wine tastings. Yes, indeed. There he was. Bungee jumping. Of course he was there.

That’s what we were doing that day. We were expanding our horizons and seeing the vast and splendid view.

It was, actually, a really nice view. You could see so far from up there. The clouds were below us too. It was quite the sight. Blue sky above. Cotton ball cushions below, flitting past giving us scattered glimpses of rolling waves and shiny cars, and rustling green and yellow leaves.

And then the wind picked up.

He wasn’t worried. So I wasn’t worried. I mean, why should I be concerned. He’d done this before, hadn’t he? Or wait, maybe he said he’d dreamed of doing it… But it was all good, because our instructors had done this so many times they needed a crowded room full of fingers and toes to count their jumps…or was it to count the number of jumps the world had recorded…

They hadn’t made us sign a waiver or anything. When I asked about it, he had grinned that grin–oh goodness, THAT grin–and told me we were gonna have a freaking awesome time and would tell our friends about it over drinks tonight, so why did we need a stupid waiver? I smiled and laughed with him. I wasn’t sure who he was referring to as our friends, though. I mean, we’d only just met four days earlier.

I was solo-backpacking through South America. Just like the stereotypical college student that I was, I saved up my tips for three years so I could celebrate finishing my degree by spending four months as an unwashed greaseball drinking beers and taking selfies at sites of historical and cultural significance. He was also trekking somewhat aimlessly. We connected in that fairytale way. He had an amazing grin and a sexy voice. I apparently had a pretty good smile and a tantalizing hip-wiggle. We drank canelazo and talked and cuddled for hours. And then, we just started travelling together.

And that’s how we ended up on the top of that outcropping, high above a river, and trees, and a little road. And that’s where he jumped from. Everyone was screaming, cheering him on. He grinned that grin at me one last time before he leapt.

Then everyone started screaming even louder. They pulled me back before I could jump. We were all gringos. All of us except for the guide who brought us up there. He was screaming the loudest.

He was screeching at the guys who had recruited the group and sold us the opportunity from the back of their van. They were the guys who had hooked up the harness. They were the guys who hadn’t double checked the ropes.

 

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Okay, I admit, I edited that a little bit. I had to check a spelling. 🙂

Your turn! What did you come up with for this prompt? Share it in the comments.

 

  1. Aahhh that ending!!!! I started reading yours going ‘oh, this is so nice, why did I have to write such a horribly sad one,’ and then I got to the end and basically just went NOOOOO

    Great writing! I’ll post mine up for tomorrow 🙂

  2. I discovered this thanks to Annika (she commented above), and I have to say I LOVE this idea, and what you wrote. It’s such a great way to keep on writing even when we don’t have much time, I love it. Thank you for doing this, I might participate the next time 🙂 And what you wrote is so good, I love it!

    • Hi Marie, thank you so much for reading and commenting. (And thanks Annika, for helping spread the word!) I hope you do participate next time; I’d love to see what you come up with. ☺️

  3. I didn’t know what was happening at the time. My head drifted away from its usual orbit after a whirl wind of launch parties and packing, and repacking because someone gave me something that would help me so much, and repacking because I just wasn’t allowed to take it. The ground crew smiles plastered my last conscious moments, all was well, the mission was on schedule and on budget and my mates were in place for a rare blast of a space record.
    Nausea is always my first recollection after stasis. My empty stomach twisted against the gravity restrainer. Objects whipped past with indistinct edges, leaving a trail of diamonds in my stinging eyes.
    “AGh!” a voice cracked the doom of silence, “My head feels like a hot ariga after a night of mating.”
    A thousand light years after waking I stared into Orbi’s swollen pupils and frowned.
    Two thousand light years later we recognised each other as earthnaughts on a mission. But we took another several thousand to remember the plants and animals, and Yount.
    Where was he?
    Unbuckling my restraint for the first time, I floated over to Yount’s tank. Orbi misjudged the distance like a newby and rammed into my kidney. I swore and jabbed my elbow into his side.
    He cried out and tears spilled upward into his eyelashes.
    “Stop it, you hornsbat, and look at this,” I sneered, not really knowing what was happening.
    Orbi came to float beside me and together we stared into Yount’s empty and clean stasis bed.
    “Where’s his suitcase?” I asked, launching my self into the next chamber.
    Orbi clung to the rim opening. I glanced at him but was too busy to wonder why he wasn’t helping.
    Yount’s case rested in his locker, like ours, a collection of clothes and memorabilia, the remnants of our identity.
    I yanked at the clasps, my hands shook. Blood flowed in globules from a cut but I felt nothing, the chemicals still numbing my reaction.
    Orbi place his hands over mine with too much tenderness to ignore. I looked into his eyes that flowed in a lava bath of tears.
    I tore my hands free and opened the case. Parg fingers needled my spine and the roof of my mouth. My eyes swelled out of their sockets. I’m going to barf, I thought.
    I stared at the paper lining of the case, both sides. I shouldn’t be seeing the lining, I thought and looked up at Orbi with my jaw slack.
    “I wanted you to myself,” he whispered while he drew me into his arms. “I didn’t want to share our children.”

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