And there are words.
I found this really interesting writing prompt online the other day and it wouldn't let me go: "Your tree falls on a neighbor's house, starting a neighborhood feud."
I changed it a bit and made it my own. This is the first time I tried writing out of a child's perspective, so there's probably some slips here and there... It's now a birthday present for my friend Matt, which I posted on my blog. Here's an excerpt:
Seven years of peace and quiet, is what Mommy says. And then, she says, he just went crazy. Daddy is standing next to her and nods. They are talking to a police officer while I get to sit on the back of his car. There are many cars in our street today, most of them are firefighters. I asked if I could sit in the firefighter car, but they wouldn’t let me. Daddy said they were busy putting out the fire of Mr. Crinkles’ house. Some weird incidents, says the police officer and my parents both nod. A weird couple of weeks, they say. So weird. But they don’t tell him how weird, so when one of the other officers comes over to offer me some candy and asks what happened, I tell her. Because I might only be seven years old and I might not remember all of the ‘peace and quiet’ my Mom is talking about, but I remember the weird couple of weeks.
So, it all started out with a car. If you can even call it that. I would call it a ‘piece of crap’, but Daddy wouldn’t like me saying that word, even though he’d secretly agree with me. I mean, come on, it was old and dirty and it wouldn’t even start. I’m pretty sure other people would say it was a ‘piece of crap’, too. Anyway, said car belonged to our neighbor, Mr. Crinkles. And even though it wasn’t working anymore, he kept it in his driveway. Daddy once told me it was for ‘sentimental reasons’, whatever that means. Around the same time of that car being in our neighbor’s driveway, we had a tree in our front yard. We kept it there because it brought us shade during the hot summer days, not for ‘sentimental reasons’. I just want to make sure that’s clear. Our tree had a reason to be there. That car didn’t.
Want more? Download the PDF on Golden Roses.
I changed it a bit and made it my own. This is the first time I tried writing out of a child's perspective, so there's probably some slips here and there... It's now a birthday present for my friend Matt, which I posted on my blog. Here's an excerpt:
Seven years of peace and quiet, is what Mommy says. And then, she says, he just went crazy. Daddy is standing next to her and nods. They are talking to a police officer while I get to sit on the back of his car. There are many cars in our street today, most of them are firefighters. I asked if I could sit in the firefighter car, but they wouldn’t let me. Daddy said they were busy putting out the fire of Mr. Crinkles’ house. Some weird incidents, says the police officer and my parents both nod. A weird couple of weeks, they say. So weird. But they don’t tell him how weird, so when one of the other officers comes over to offer me some candy and asks what happened, I tell her. Because I might only be seven years old and I might not remember all of the ‘peace and quiet’ my Mom is talking about, but I remember the weird couple of weeks.
So, it all started out with a car. If you can even call it that. I would call it a ‘piece of crap’, but Daddy wouldn’t like me saying that word, even though he’d secretly agree with me. I mean, come on, it was old and dirty and it wouldn’t even start. I’m pretty sure other people would say it was a ‘piece of crap’, too. Anyway, said car belonged to our neighbor, Mr. Crinkles. And even though it wasn’t working anymore, he kept it in his driveway. Daddy once told me it was for ‘sentimental reasons’, whatever that means. Around the same time of that car being in our neighbor’s driveway, we had a tree in our front yard. We kept it there because it brought us shade during the hot summer days, not for ‘sentimental reasons’. I just want to make sure that’s clear. Our tree had a reason to be there. That car didn’t.
Want more? Download the PDF on Golden Roses.