I'm participating in Saturday Centus, hosted by Jenny Matlock.
Each week we are provided a writing prompt and charged with the task of using that prompt and an additional 100 words to create a short, short, short story. It's an exercise in using your imagination and having a good time.
This week I'm collaborating with my good friend Vicki @ Change In A Bottle to create what I like to think of as a rolling work, done in multiple chapters. The prompt in each chapter is blue:
Charlotte hummed “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” as she sat down to grade her students’ papers.
Their assignment had been rainbows. Charlotte left essay topics open for the kids; she never wanted to stifle creativity.
Melissa’s paper was first. “Rainbows are pretty and they have all the colors except not as many as my crayon box at home. In real life you can see straight through a rainbow to the other side not like the rainbows in stores and I don’t know why that is. Real life rainbows are too big to fit in stores.”
Charlotte chuckled and sipped her tea.
Melissa has the same attitude her mother did at that age.
The next paper was Sean's.
" We're suppose to write about rainbows. But that just makes me think about thunder and lightning and rain and mud and pushing people in it. Stupid rainbows are for girls."
He sounds just like his dad, the obnoxious bully.
Another sip of tea awakened memories of being that age herself.
Growing up in this same town, wanting to be popular, and what the three of them did to achieve that goal.
Sandy's favorite song then was "Somewhere Over The Rainbow." That's how they came up with the idea...
Chapter 3 (PJ)
Charlotte inhaled deeply, shaking her head…"Somewhere Over The Rainbow", indeed. Robert’s paper was next.
“Rainbows remind me of different stuff all added up to make something better like all the colors are nice alone but they look really cool right next to each other. That could work for people too if they would do what we do. Everyone is a different color like me and Tony and Becca and Carlos and it’s more fun together on the playground than when I’m alone and there’s nothing to do.”
“Ah,” thought Charlotte, “an eight year old who sees a big picture…”
