Laps
Mommy put my cake down. It said my name right on top of the bright red racetrack. Or I think it did. There was a big T and the circle that Jane said makes an Oooh and showed me with her mouth. I counted four candles that Mommy lit. "What about for good luck?" I said.
Jordan started singing "Happy Birthday" until Leah elbowed him and hissed "idiot". Daddy gave them dirty looks. Mommy stared at the cake. "Stupid fucking design."
"Tommy loved cars," Daddy said.
"No I don't. Cars hurt."
Then I cried because they couldn't hear me anymore.
I had to read that three times before I got it.
I know. I may have rushed this piece a bit. Kind of wanted to get it out so I could move on to something else.
Even at 100 words, I'm lazy.
No, I think it was a limitation of the form, there's only so much information you can give out. I can't think of what you could do with that POV in so few words to get that scene more clear.
I kinda guessed what was coming; I love ghost stories and have used that trope from both sides. It's very Sixth Sense (and I didn't get that one until the very end, it's easy to sucker a person in when they get invested in the inner life of the protagonist-ghost.)
Wolfram, that's great. You're on a tear with these.
I thought I'd try doing one of these a day this week, like a writer's boot camp. Not sure I can keep it up.
Maybe I'll try one that's more upbeat.
This entry for Burn is not personal.
Even now, many years and thousands of drinks later, she can still remember both her gap-toothed, eager eighth-grade self and the way that first sip burned when she drank that first glass of whatever brown liquor someone scavenged from their parents’ liquor cabinet. At first, it burned so much, she didn’t understand why adults drank, but not wanting to be a wimp, she boldly drained the glass until the burn felt like love and friendship. Sometimes, as she gets ready to face how that became her longest relationship, she wishes she’d had the courage to be a wimp.
