There were some great prompts this week:
Freddy MacKay offered:
"...We've come so far..." "...I think/feel I'm entitled to your body..." "...got a problem with personal space..."
Use the following elements in your story: knitting needle, motorcycle, dripping paint
I had several ideas for Freddy's sentences but at the last minute the elements popped in. This work is so far untitled, but since I intend on continuing it I hope something comes up. Enjoy! And please stop by to visit the other great Flasher's of this week!
“Sweet heart are you okay in there?”
“Yes, Grandma.” Amanda smiled to herself as she heard her grandmother’s feet shuffle back to the living room. She waited a moment until she heard the traditional sound of her knitting needles steadily clashing against each other.
Amanda sighed. She’d come back to town a week ago to help her grandmother tidy the house before selling it. Now, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to get rid of the old building. There were memories buried in here. Memories of when she was a child: camping in the back patio, running around the kitchen while her mother and grandmother baked a cake, bike riding with her friends... they had spent so many summers at the old town house.
When she became a teenager she stopped coming for a while, convincing her parents that the city was the best place for a 15 year old. Amanda smiled. They allowed it for a year. The summer before her senior year in high school they’d come back to the house. Most of her friends from town had either moved away or gotten into activities of which she had no interest, so she’d spent the summer in the house, reading, drawing, writing, helping out her family…until he came.
Her gaze fell on the window seat. She remembered it as if it had been yesterday.
Amanda was curled up against the window, her knees hugging her chest and her book too close to her face to her mother's liking. She was engrossed on the favorite passage of her favorite book, “Gone with the wind”. Scarlett had just laid eyes on Rhett Butler for the first time when
VROOM VROOM VROOM.
She jumped in her seat and her book fell to the floor. She pushed back her glasses which had slipped to the edge of her nose and looked out the window. Immediately, her eyes fell on the source of the noise: A motorcycle. It was a black and silver killing machine whose motor kept revving loudly and then dying with a sputter. A young boy, probably her age, stood next to it, staring at it intently as if by looking at the thing he could discern what was wrong.
Amanda glared at the young man through the glass. She could clearly tell he was a good for nothing. He had long black hair, badly tied back with a red bandana. He wore black leather trousers and a matching vest. No shirt underneath. If he’d had broad shoulders and a firm chest with a stomach riddled with muscles, then she could have appreciated the effect, but he didn’t. He was too tall, too thin and too lanky. He looked like someone who had grown too much in too little time and hadn’t spread out properly. Amanda narrowed her eyes as she watched his gloved hand grip the bike’s handle.
VROOM VROOM VROOM
A man came out of the house, by his facial expression and raised arms, she could tell that he was chastising the boy. They argued for a few minuted until the young man slumped his shoulders and followed the elder back inside. Amanda smiled, relieved. Peace at last. Picking up her book she returned to Scarlett and Rhett and forgot all about her new neighbor.
Amanda forced herself to look away from the window. She bent over to retrieve the dripping paint brush. Unfortunately, that had not been the last time she'd seen the young man.
To be continued...