New Year Giveaway

I’ve got my prompt in, cross your fingers and hoping to win. What an awesome light and one can always use a coffee mug, filled of course to the brim with goodness.

The Daily Rejection (A Writer's Woe)

Hey Guys!

Just want to let you know that I appreciate each and every one of my readers. To show you just how much, I’d like to share something with you on this Share it Saturday…. A giveaway! What we have here is a pretty sweet writer’s gift basket that was assembled thanks to ample holiday generosity.

The $100 value gift basket includes a “Writer’s Block” notebook, a “Writer Emergency” card pack, an “I write, what’s your superpower?” mug, and a USB color-changing “book” light (it’s made of wood and opens and closes like a real book).

Since my posts have been slightly more sparse thanks to a hectic start to the new year, I’m looking to my readers for inspiration. So, to win the gift basket, the rules are simple:

  1. Be a follower of The Daily Rejection.
  2. Send me a 1-2 sentence story prompt by Friday, January 20th. Anything at…

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Summer of Love-Gold #writephoto (Thursday photo prompt)

I remember nervously twirling the frail gold bracelet around in circles on my arm. I hadn’t worn it in quite some time, feeling awkward having moved on with my young life when he had left that hot summer day, but as I ran up the stairs with this latest letter, I put it back on once more with shaking hands. My arm would turn a bit green below it but I decided I owed him at least that much.

The last time I had seen Adam was months ago behind the skating rink. It had been a warm balmy summer evening and the sun was setting in the distant sky as I gazed over his shoulder. He was leaving for the Navy and wouldn’t be back for many months but my tears continued to fall. I knew when he left, it was going to be forever, I don’t know why, I just did. He held me with tears in his eyes, promising me he’d write often, or as often as he could between training and the unknown expectations, he had been so excited but now, not so much. I told him I’d wait, I was sixteen and thought he was my world but somewhere inside me I felt the familiar fear that often surfaced. He was eighteen and had just graduated in June, a beautiful blonde boy with the anchor tattoo he had gotten in anticipation for his upcoming enlistment, still looking a bit raw and red and bumpy, as I traced my finger over it lightly, I told him it would be ok, that I’d be here and that I wasn’t going anywhere so told him to just write when he could. He smiled then and just held me as the gold sun slipped down over the horizon.

The letter was dated seven weeks ago, was a bit ragged as if it had been lost somewhere in the bowels of a post office in a far away country, but I knew he had never made it to the gulf, to any war for that matter. Adam had died in a car accident three weeks ago on a weekend leave. His Mom Beth had called to let me know what had happened and his obituary had been in the paper for days, local boy gone, and my soul didn’t feel anything except for an emptiness, because I had always known he wasn’t coming back, had always known. Beth had told me softly through tears over the phone the details about what had happened. Adam died driving down a long narrow road in Virginia on his way to celebrate with Tiffany’s family, his cassette deck playing the mix tape that I had made for him for Christmas the year before, and that his car had swerved for some unknown reason as the sun shone down on the curve, blinding him. The car overturned on the soft sandy edge of the road, the song Gold Dust Woman blaring through his cars speakers when the police arrived. The local blonde beauty queen with the shiny new engagement ring who had sat beside him was thrown from the car and was pronounced dead on scene and Adam died on route to the hospital.

I read the letter, feeling calm as his words filled me. I realized he suddenly seemed so grown up, someone I no longer really knew. He apologized for falling in love with someone else but letting me go as tenderly as he could, he didn’t want me to be angry, that I should move on with my life, always Adam to the end. I undid the clasp on the bracelet and let it fall to my lap, folded the letter and tucked it back in the ripped envelope, leaned over and looked out the window at the cold snow falling beyond. Somewhere in my head a song started playing, Gold dust woman and I quietly sang along.

“Well did she make you cry
Make you break down
Shatter your illusions of love
And is it over now, do you know how
Pickup the pieces and go home.” Fleetwood Mac Gold Dust Woman

This is my piece for the Sue Vincent Thursday #writephoto challenge-Gold

Thursday photo prompt – Gold #writephoto

 

Sweetness

Life in its delicate self

sweet yet so very tender

easily bruised by the things

not quite careful of the flesh

of being.

We gather the colors of thoughts

reds and blues of natural hues

to taste the essence of sun

captured in the seed

joy released drop by drop.

In seasons of cold winds

the basket of goodness overflows

when embraced in remembrance

of days gone by

when summer found toes in sand

and hearts hanging by the clouds above,

the setting of a gorgeous fireball relaxing into sea

and as the balmy air blows through,

the skin felt the humid peace of gentleness

the night falls on a quiet spirit,

I bite into the small moments to taste

the spirit of life.