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:
Chapter One (PJ)
I peered into the cardboard box of treasures she’d squirreled away. In the computer age, why would anyone hold onto yellowed ephemera?
I snatched a dog-eared newspaper photo that stuck out from under a careless pile. “Why did you save this, Terra? It must be 2 decades old! Who the heck is it anyway?"
She removed it carefully from my hand and told me how she’d been brutally raped when she was 13, walking home one night. The man in the photo had saved Terra’s life.
She returned the photo to its rightful place and spoke reverently, “That’s why it meant so much to me.”
CHAPTER TWO (Vicki)
It was haunting seeing Karen unfold the clipping, attempting to open moments as delicate as the paper. Watching the distress in her eyes.
I hadn't told anyone. Mom said never to, it would bring the horrors ripping back through my mind. That no one would believe it.
Yet it's been there gnawing at my memory. Through the healing years of smiles hiding the wrenching heartache, laughter hiding the inner screams.
Karen is the only one I can tell. That’s why it meant so much to see the tears wavering in her eyes.
And my own; never to surface until now.
But will she believe me?
Chapter Three (PJ)
“Oh Terra, don’t cry! I’m okay!” Karen embraced me as I sobbed.
I took a step back and avoided her eyes, first trying to find the words, then trying to form them.
“R-R-Remember when I spent that year away to help my Gram out?”
“Sure.”
“Gram didn’t need help; I did.” She whispered, “I-I was date raped, g-got pregnant and my parents made me have the baby and give it up for a-d-doption.”
The floodgates of a lifetime opened up. Karen knew it wasn’t the time to speak. She wrapped me in her arms for hours and let me cry. That’s why it meant so much.
