So, one of the reasons that I decided to start blogging was that I wanted to get into the habit of writing every day and planning ideas and getting prepared to write a real novel. So, today I have decided to write a short, fictional piece (I really don’t know how long it will go) based on a writing prompt I found online at http://www.webook.com/911writersblock. The prompt says the following: A woman stands on the side of the highway, slowly walking, her used-to-be white wedding gown in tatters. The following is my creation from the prompt (minus italics at end).
A woman stands on the side of the highway, slowly walking, her used-to-be white wedding gown in tatters. Did people really believe that rain on your wedding day was a blessing? she thought to herself. If they did, she could prove them wrong. She would tell them her story and they would see that rain on your wedding day was definitely a curse, not a blessing at all. If only she could spot some lights on the dark, forlorn interstate. In the distance, she thought she heard the roar of an engine and within minutes she was sure that she saw lights. As the lights grew brighter and the car approached, the woman was excited that she would finally be getting out of the damp, cold air. Maybe she could even get the stranger to give her a place to stay for the night and some dry clothes that were in one piece. As the car pulled to a stop in front of her, she almost laughed at the irony.
“Well, well, well,” the man driving the car said, “if it isn’t the prodigal bride. What the hell happened to you?” he asked her as he pushed open the passenger side door for her.
She sat down, closed the door, and burst into tears; finally releasing all of the stress and horrors of the past 12 hours. “I didn’t think this place was so empty,” she said to the man.
“Tell me about it. Now, what happened to you and that pretty dress of yours?” the man prompted her on.
“Can we leave it at the fact that you were right about everything?” she asked the man.
“Now, I don’t want to be unfair to my step brother,” the man told her.
As she stared at her hands, the woman mumbled, “I picked the wrong brother.”
“What?” the man asked her.
“Nothing. If I tell you this story, you have to promise to give me some dry clothes and a couch to crash on tonight,” she said.
“I can do you one better,” the man said. “I’ll give you dry clothes and a bed to share tonight. You look like you need it.”
The woman drew a deep breath in and started talking.
“It all started last night,” she began. “You were in town, right?” Without waiting for a response, she continued. “The skies opened up and Dave and I were caught in the downpour. It got so bad that we pulled over because he couldn’t see a thing. I told him that I’d always wanted to dance in the rain with the guy of my dreams and since we couldn’t see anything, we decided to do it. What a mistake that was. We were fine until we got to the rehearsal and my parents started yelling at him. They told him that he was irresponsible and that we were both going to catch a cold and we’d hate ourselves and never be able to remember our wedding day because we were miserable with sickness. Luckily, we made it through the rest of the night. Later on, though, we got in this enormous fight. He stormed into the hotel without giving me a chance to explain or letting me apologize to him. He didn’t even seem like he wanted to make things better.”
The man started to slow the car at a red light and the woman took a breath. “Do you want any food?” he asked her as he pointed to a fast food joint just up the road.
The woman shook her head and continued with the story. “I tried to call him when I got to my hotel, but he didn’t answer. I wasn’t really worried because sometimes he got this way. We would fight and then we’d need to sleep it off before we were able to come to a solution and apologize to each other. Then, this morning, he didn’t show up to the hotel. I was convinced that he was just trying to make me worry. When start time came and went, and he still hadn’t showed up, I started to get angry. I grabbed the keys to the car that we were going to drive in later that day and drove off without telling anyone. I was headed to his hotel. I walked in and went up to his room, only to find out that he wasn’t there. The front desk had a note from him though, it wasn’t a note for me, but they gave it to me anyways.”
She showed the man the note that was barely readable from being soaked and destroyed by the rain.
“So I went looking for him. I decided the next logical place would be the hotel that we were supposed to be staying at that night, but he wasn’t there either. I tried calling him, I tried texting him, and I even tried to call his parents. No one would pick up their phone and I had no clue. So I started driving. The car broke down, just as the skies started to get dark again. I knew the only thing I could do was start walking. So I did. About ten minutes into my walk, the skies opened up and it started pouring again. It poured for two hours as I walked and it go dark and cold. Then, I slipped and fell down a hill.”
She pulled up her dress to reveal that she had no shoes on her feet. The man’s face held the shocked and comforting look that she had been looking for all day.
“I scraped my way back up, but ruined my dress in the process. So now I can’t even return it and get my money back. I kept walking, just hoping someone would see me. Then you showed up and here I am.”
As she finished her story, they pulled into a parking lot of an apartment building. He came around, opened her door, and offered to give her a piggy back ride upstairs to his apartment so she wouldn’t have to walk on the gravel. She walked anyways. When she got into the apartment, he gave her a quick tour, finishing with the bathroom.
“Why don’t you start showering,” he told her, “while I find some clothes that hopefully won’t fall off you.”
She smiled at him and started the water, peeling her once glamorous dress off of her in pieces. When she got out of the shower, smelling of his men’s shampoo and body wash, she saw the pile of clothes he had left for her and put them on. The shirt was at least three sizes too big and the boxers barely stayed up, but it would do. She opened the door and saw that he had made some food.
“You should eat something,” he said to her.
“I’m not hungry,” she managed to say as new tears started to run down her now clean face. “I just want to sleep.”
He enveloped her in a hug to comfort her and escorted her to the bedroom. He pulled the covers back and she got into bed, pulling him into the bed with her and wrapping herself around him as she balled herself to sleep, knowing that she would hate herself when she woke up next to him in the morning. Knowing that everything would seem so much worse tomorrow morning, but allowing herself to do it anyways.
I realize this is very rough and probably has no flow to it – just an exercise to get the creative juices flowing. Do you ever have the urge to write creatively? When was the last time you created a writing piece that you did for you?