A prompt disguised as making history…

Posted on February 6, 2012 | 6 Comments

Write about a memory that has stuck with you for ten or more years. But change the outcome. Change it to something more tragic, or witty, or adventurous. Anything you like! It would be interesting to have your change bring about unexpected consequences…

This entry was posted in A Prompt Disguised, Creative Writing, Homeschooling, Teaching, Writing and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

6 responses to “A prompt disguised as making history…”

  1. Elisa Nuckle | February 6, 2012 at 3:59 pm | Reply

    Do we write about this in a comment?

  2. Mark Mathia | February 6, 2012 at 8:11 pm | Reply

    You are very creative! Thanks for the great ideas.

  3. Elisa Nuckle | February 10, 2012 at 1:20 pm | Reply

    Okay, so I finally found this post again, heh. Here’s my little piece. It’s not exactly… happy. Heh. Feel free to delete it if it’s too dark for your blog.

    ***

    My two cousins and I were watching Aladdin when my aunt came out crying. The older one went into my grandmother’s bedroom and came out with her dad, my uncle, and he held her in his lap, said a few things, and then she started sobbing. That’s when I knew my grandmother was gone. My Nana. I stood up while my younger cousin looked at her mother with that near-puppy expression, head tilted, eyes curious. Ignoring what my aunt said to her, I walked down that suddenly long, bleak hallway to the door on the left. My mom along with my other aunt and uncle and a nurse stood at the edge of my Nana’s bed in a row. Crying, but I didn’t understand why.

    Because Nana opened her eyes and smiled at me, motioned me forward. “Would you like to know a little secret?” She held me in her lap like always, but her children kept on crying as if she never moved. I nodded my head. “You’re going to grow up some day and become a wonderful woman. Life will be something for you.” Her eyes twinkled as always. “The good and the bad, it’s all just an adventure, and death’s another part of it.”

    “What comes after?” I wasn’t following her very well. Being eight, these concepts were beyond me.

    She inhaled, chose her words carefully. Because they would affect the rest of my life, how I viewed the world. And I had no clue. “I want to tell you that everything will be perfect, that you’ll go be with your God, my God — and I sure do hope I get to see the Lord. But that’s the other part of the adventure, that not knowing. Don’t try to figure it out or worry about it. Live, my baby girl, live. And trust God will take care of you afterwards — hope that he will, know that he will, but never, ever set your heart into the sands of certainty. That’s when you sink. Understand?” Of course I shook my head. She kissed me on my cheek. “I love you a bushel and a peck.”

    “A bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck.” I hugged her, and she laid down. Just like that, she never moved from that spot with living breath again. But I never forgot what she said, or what she taught me in life, and I’m living my adventure on the rocks of faith.

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