Did you know that I have a writing prompts ebook available from Amazon? Prompt Me is the basis of this series and will be just 99p for the duration.
This series will run for 10 weeks. Each week I take a different prompt from the book and expand on it.
You can join in too. Whether it be a paragraph or a short story, follow me in getting creative, tag me to let me know, and I will feature a snippet of your interpretation on Writerly Bookish Stuff and send my readers your way.
If you are just here to read and not partake, that’s great too. Thank you for stopping by.
What would you do if you heard your nextdoor neighbour giving your name and address to a hooded figure?
The build and height are that of a man. Who wears a hooded coat in this sunshine? Mr.Cathson points across the road to my house, directing the stranger right to me. I duck behind the wall. Why the hell am I hiding? This person is obviously looking for me, but something feels amiss. The fine hairs on my arms are standing on end.
Peeking out from behind the wheely bin, I watch the man shake Mr.Cathson’s hand and make his way back down the garden path. My heart thuds as he crosses the street, but instead of heading toward my house, he takes a left and disappears down the lane toward Parc-Rose Avenue that leads into town. Even Mr.Cathson watches on in bewilderment. Why ask after me and not call by?
As I straighten myself up, Mr.Cathson hurries over in his slippers and robe. “Lilah, a gentleman came to my house asking after you. He said he wasn’t sure of your address, but you left this at the pub yesterday.” He hands over my grandmother’s silver pin.
I touch my lapel, realising for the first time that I had lost my most important possession. “Oh my God, I hadn’t noticed. I wonder how he knew it was mine?”
Mr.Cathson helps me drag my recycling bins to the curb. “Oh, it was quite odd actually. He said he knew it belonged to a Helena Quinten, so assumed it was passed down to her only living family member.”
There go those hairs on my arms again. My mouth is suddenly dry and my tongue sticks to the roof. My grandmother died when I was seven. Mum had kept her pin under lock and key in a safe for years. I only found it once she had died and I sorted through her belongings. How would a stranger know anything about this pin or my grandmother?
Remember, if you are joining in with this series, let me know in the comments and tag me in your posts. Whether they be blog or social media, let me have a read of your interpretation. It can be anything from just a paragraph to a short story.
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