It was clear that Bianca, the nervous patient fidgeting in the reclined chair, didn’t remember her. But Lauren, Dr. Asher to all of her patients, certainly remembered every cruel word Bianca had ever said, despite the intervening decades.
“Is it going to hurt much? No offense, but I hate coming to the dentist,” Bianca squeaked.
“It won’t hurt a bit,” Lauren said with a placid smile as she wielded the drill. She asked her assistant to shut the door.
The Six Sentence Story prompt this week is Drill.
“Take your order,” the gum-popping waitress said impatiently, flipping her curly hair out of her eyes, a slight smile forming on her lips. Her table of young male customers looked at their beautiful server in awe, tongue-tied; they’d been planning to pull one of their classic pranks, dine-n-dash.
“Four waters, please,” said one of the boys, finally regaining his ability to speak. She rolled her eyes but dutifully brought the waters, keeping their glasses filled as she served her other tables over the next few hours. At the end of the night, they pooled their funds and managed to leave her the most generous tip she’d received all evening.
“Come back anytime,” she called after them with a wink as she put the cash in her pocket, thinking she’d splurge and treat herself to a nice dinner on her way home.
The Six Sentence Story prompt this week is Order.
I open the back door and step onto the deck, the sticky summer heat moistening my skin, and step gingerly into the refreshing, frigid, pool. My mother insists that babies are too young to swim; I didn’t learn until I was in my twenties. I clutch my six-month-old daughter to my chest, her head resting in the crook of my neck, until the water is chest-level. I carefully let her go, my arms outstretched to catch her, just in case. Fearlessly, she ducks her head underwater, her tiny legs fluttering like a bird’s wings. I dive under and rise to meet her under the rippling blue surface, kissing her cheek.
The Six Sentence Stories prompt this week is Deck.
“If you hate them so much why are they your friends,” Jim had asked as I prepared to leave our cozy little bungalow on a rainy afternoon, headed for brunch with the girls. It was a monthly tradition, every third Sunday, five of my old sorority sisters and I met at a restaurant in the city to pick at dry salads and compete in the clandestine game of frenemies everywhere – Whose Life Is Better?
I’m thinking of Jim’s question again as we begin the sudden death round of our ridiculous little competition – Who’s Skinniest/Healthiest? The salad ordering kicks off with each woman trying to one-up the last – one asks for dressing on the side, another asks for no dressing, yet another asking for no protein or dressing, just limp salad greens. Camilla thinks she’s won, as she has countless times before, when she just asks for a hot water with lemon, claiming not to be very hungry when she looks smugly at me.
“Burger and fries,” I say to the waiter confidently, drawing glares from my companions as I realize it’s time I took myself out of the game.
The Six Sentence Story prompt this week is Draw.
She hid, breathless, checking to make sure the Prince was no longer in pursuit. What a mistake it had been to lie her way into the ball, and what a disappointment so-called Prince Charming had turned out to be. He was an arrogant, spoiled daddy’s boy who’d dominated her attention the entire night. She’d wanted to mingle, make some new friends, this being her first night out in years, but, no, he was “enchanted” by her, he said, refusing to allow her to leave his side. Good thing she’d given him a fake name so he’d never be able to find her, ha! It was only when she arrived home that she realized her shoe was missing.
The Six Sentence Story prompt this week is check. I must have sideways Cinderella stories on the brain!
The first 22 years of my life have been a frantic race for this day. I dreamed of it as a girl, talked about it endlessly it as an adolescent, and after I met him, started planning it in secret.
The car stops in front of our new address, a gorgeous showstopper of a home. I stand in our mostly empty living room, my heart slowly falling into my belly as my new husband tromps up the stairs. The decades in front us stretch endlessly into the unknown as I slide to the floor. What happens now?
The six sentence story prompt this week is Address.
They returned to the ocean as it seemed to all be slipping away. It was to be their final goodbye. She felt the wind swirling around her, remembering reciting her vows at that very spot. The sun had turned the green flecks in his eyes golden as they were pronounced man and wife. He stared back at her as he had on that sun-drenched day, touching her face, the tips of his fingers grazing her cheek, the base of her chin. As she looked back into his eyes, though the sun had long since retreated, she thought she could spy the hint of gold in them once again.
This is the combination of two prompts, the daily post – Beach and six sentence stories – Base.
A continuation of last week’s story.
He was waiting for her when she got home, leaning against his car like the handsome male lead in some teen fantasy. She averted her eyes, ignoring him as he began to follow her.
“Did you tell them I was with you?”
She turned, summoning all of her strength, her expression icy. “Give my regards to your wife, Stephen.”
She left him on the step, his eyes as large as saucers, and went into her apartment alone.
The six sentence story prompt this week is Ex.
“So, you and your boyfriend were together from 9 pm until midnight on the night of the murder?”
“Right,” she nodded, her expression giving away nothing.
“Are you aware that Stephen is married?”
Seeing her disbelief, the detective handed her a photo of a laughing Stephen and his wife at a family gathering, date stamped the week before, mutual affection reflected in both their eyes.
She looked at her hands, breaking eye contact with the detective for the first time that day.
“Do you want to change your answer?”
The six sentence story prompt this week is right.
Nicole stood on his doorstep, shivering, but not from the cold, the telltale marks still visible on her scrawny arms. He knew the routine by now – she would tell an elaborate story about how she needed cash for groceries, or rent, or some other dire expense. So many times, he’d given her the last of his meager funds, knowing exactly how she would really use it. He could never say no to her, until now.
He saw the shock register on Nicole’s face as he shut the door quietly, ignored the banging and angry pleading that followed. He would no longer be his daughter’s enabler.
The six sentence story prompt this week is last.