Prompt Responses

Responses to promts can be left here. If you are not an author of this blog I'm not sure how this will all work for you :/ If you would like to become an author please leave in a comment or send me your email address at sernityr101@sbcglobal.net. Happy writings! :)



"Remember the Day" by Melee
{This was written from the first writing prompt: "Take the first line of your favorite song and write a story using it as the first line." The song I chose was 'Remember the Day' by Sibylle Baier. [I let my ipod randomly pick it from my Top 25 Most Played list!]}


Remember the day when I left home to just buy some food? You remember, right? Surely you can remember.
Remember, that day I left my children (Morgan, Seth; 7 years, 4 years) with the girl who lives next door.
I wanted to buy them a treat: they are my children, I love them. Their favourite treat is anything containing sugar, bound up in bright cellophane.
Kissing their soft, eager faces and leaving the apartment building, I walked down the street to the store. (Do you remember their proper names? They’re Elm Street and Westbury Market.) Can you recall what I was doing? Maybe I was humming as I walked, something by Judy Garland (my favourite singer). Perhaps I was distracted by fond thoughts of my husband. (Over 6 feet; brown hair; brown eyes; dimple on the left side. His name is Daniel.)
What happened then? You still don’t remember? Does this ring a bell: a blue vehicle, driving straight towards me? Did you see it coming? Please remember… When did you know it was going to hit me? After the darkness covered my mind, how soon did you decide to slip away? When did you decide you were going to erase everything?

This is my story, or at least, they tell me it is. Every night I lie in the hospital bed and whisper it to myself, hoping you’re listening and it will remind you of everything. They tell me I am Kate, and I am 31 years old. They tell me I love my children, my husband.
But, I can’t be Kate: I don’t remember seeing these people before. I don’t remember living for 31 years. I don’t even recognize those sad, green eyes, gazing at me from the mirror.
Dearest Memory, where are you? I need you, I need you to tell me it’s alright. Tell me that all these details I’ve memorized, do indeed belong to me.

I can’t be myself until you come back to me.