1.1           The Broken Ceiling  

Prompt:  Only the sound of the rain could be heard just before the ceiling plaster cracked.

Example:

The old mansion stood on the hill abandoned ever since I could remember.  The aging stone walls and untended gardens hinted of a time of prosperity and pride.  No one ever went there out of respect for the long gone owners in hopes that someone from their lineage would reclaim the fading beauty. 

Until yesterday, I often I daydreamed of what it must have been like to live there.  Things changed when the letter came.  Its content was unexpected and alarming.  I was informed that the old mansion had fallen to me, a distant and nearly forgotten descendent certainly unwanted by the aristocrats who had lived there.  Back taxes it accused. 

So now the rain soaks into my thin dress as I tomboy my way through a broken window into the house of my dreams.  Standing there in the middle of the ballroom marble floor, awed by the massive fireplace at one end of the room and the lavish draperies with their satin rope cords, I felt transported into a time when the crystal chandeliers gave off a golden glow and the fragrance from the garden roses enchanted the people who lived here.

I opened the entry doors and the rain poured down the edges of the wrap around porch.  Standing in the doorway, I heard a loud sound behind me.  The ceiling was dripping water from it's dome two stories up.  The plaster cracked and large chunks of the ceiling fresco began falling onto the marble floor.  It fell just where I had been standing moments ago.  All I could think of was running away from this old house, its taxes and maintenance costs.

1.2 Perception

Prompt:  She looked into the mirror, watching all the dancers twirl around her but she cast no reflection.

Example:

It was getting late and soon they would come for her.  They would have to find her first as she hid under the stairwell in the shadows next to a parlor table.  She could clearly see into the next room through the open pocket doors as dancers twirled all around the parquet floor.  Their dresses were of many beautiful colors.  She especially liked the yellow satin skirt of Miss Josephine’s dress and the lavender lace on Miss Deborah’s collar.

“Young lady, what are you doing here?” whispered Mr. Calvin.  “Why, it’s well past your bedtime.”

I sprung from my hiding place and ran into the room with the dancers, touching every dress I passed.  The ladies, gentlemen, chandeliers, paintings and everything in the room was reflected in the mirrors on three walls above the chair rail.  Someday, I would dance in this room and be tall enough to see myself in the mirrors dancing in a beautiful yellow dress with a lavender lace collar. 

1.3 Clean Up

He put the old mop and pail in the musty closet.

“Cleanliness is next to godliness”, my Mama used to say.  She was always washing clothes, dishes and floors.  She liked for things to be bright and shiny.  No dust anywhere was her big thing.  She didn’t want to see it or touch it.  For years I thought she had a germ phobia or an obsession with cleaning. 

Now, every other day I visit Mama in the Senior Living facility a couple of miles away.  She looks a little more fragile every time I go there but her eyes light up and her spirits are high when we talk.  I take the time to dust a little and straighten up her room which she seems to delight in.  Once she complained about the dirty floor in her room so I found a mop and bucket and cleaned it for her.  She frowned a bit and asked me, “Where did you get that moldy mop”.  “It was in the musty closet”, I replied. “Well, take it back”, she demanded.  I returned the old mop and pail to the closet.

Finally, I asked her why she had worked so hard to keep the house clean.  She touched my hand gently and said that when I was a baby, I was very sick and the doctor told her I was allergic to dust and dust mites.  From that day forward, she did her best to keep me safe and healthy by keeping our home dust free.  Now that I think of it, I don’t remember having a sick day when I lived at home. 

Yesterday I visited Mom just as the nurse was leaving.  Carrying a new mop, pail and a bottle of her favorite lavender essence, I began my clean up.  Putting just a drop of the lavender in the water, I mopped her floor just the way she liked it.  Clean, dust free and with a hint of lavender.

Thanks, Mom.  Cleanliness is next to godliness.

1.4 Memories

Prompt:  The spiral notebook was all that was left.

Example:

Hauling boxes of books into the newly purchased old Georgian style house created a strain on David’s back.  The stairs creaked with each step as he climbed to the second floor.  He wondered why he didn’t use smaller boxes.  It would have meant more trips but it would have been manageable.  Too late now and thankfully, this was his last trip to the room he claimed as his library.

David placed the box on the seat of his desk chair and proceeded to unpack his friends.  From previous trips with boxes, the book shelves were nearly filled.  The last box contained family photo albums and journals from years of preserving memories.  He carefully rested each book in its new home.  The books fit snugly.  There wasn’t room for anything else but he still had one spiral notebook.  Because it wouldn’t fit, maybe he could get rid of it. 

David moved the box off of his chair and sat down.  He opened the spiral notebook and leafed through the pages.  Memories of high school, fishing trips, hiking in Montana, whitewater rafting in Colorado, picnics on the farm and even a water balloon fight brought back smiles from times he spent with his family.  They were all there, his brothers, sister, parents and even their cat, Slippers. 

It was too much to let go of because these are the memories that would help him get through tough times.  It is his feelings of being connected to people who love him that would always bring a lift to his spirit.  No, he would not get rid of the spiral notebook.  He looked through the books on the shelves and spied a book on Shakespeare’s Masterpieces.  He pulled it off the shelf and placed it on the desk.  Tomorrow he would donate it to the library.  The spiral notebook easily filled   the space.

1.5 Message

Prompt:  The message was written in sand.

‘Travis, Meet me at the lighthouse.  Jesse’ was written in the sand outside of our condo.  I wondered what she was up to.  I slipped out of my shoes and walked along the white sandy beach, stopping to pick up shells and avoiding the seaweed and jellyfish that had been washed up.  It was only about a quarter of a mile away but I am easily distracted.  A few people are out, enjoying the morning sun and getting their feet wet as the waves tickle the shore.  They pass with a nod or a smile and then move on with their eyes looking off in the distance at some sailboat on the horizon or a sandpiper running to and fro.  The sounds of the gently crashing waves and calling seagulls make me want to stay here forever.

I finally reach the lighthouse, spying Jesse with her camera as she snapped a shot of a red and white boat moored at the pier.  She waves and shouts, “I thought we could have breakfast at the little restaurant over there.”   I smile and we set out in that direction.  It was only a quarter mile away but we are easily distracted.