Got an e-mail some time last night informing me that it was the last Monday of the month... WHAT? Where did March go? Although I shouldn't complain too much because I have been rather going through a dry blogging spell, so this is a good prompt for me to actually post something!
So here was this months prompts:
In 250 words or less:
Use at least one of the following adjectives: delicate, repulsive, hostile
And at least one of the following nouns: New York City, My 16th Birthday (yes, this would be referring to you), and Kilts
I don't really think I can work any of these into my WIP's so I guess you're just going to have to get a random 250 words! Hurray for spontaneity and possibly semi-autobiographical fiction!
It's 2am. I'm not feeling very creative, but I made a stab at it!
I don't think I can remember my 16th birthday. It's not as big of a deal as it is for American teens. See, in Britain we can't drive until we're seventeen, so sixteen is just another number in a list on the somewhat bumpy and over-dramatic road to adulthood.
I do remember my 18th though. On this side of the Atlantic, eighteen is the big number. We become adults and unlike our American friends, we can legally consume alcohol.
From across the room, my grandmother gives me a hostile look as I take my first, legal, sip of alcohol. The wine spritzer is a far cry from the hard liquor that most people my age seem to think leads to an attractive demeanour.
Everyone that I care about was there, family and friends. While most of the people that I hang out with think that an eighteenth isn’t an eighteenth without a club, some intoxication, and some poorly made decisions, I’m not most people. I wanted nothing more than to spend some quality time with the people I care about the most in this world, reminiscing and indulging in some of my aunt’s famous double chocolate cake.
We played a board game. Unthinkably dull to most people, it’s the highlight of my night. It’s that one where you try to describe a given word without actually saying it. Innuendos, confusion and laughter run riot into the small hours. Screw the hangover. I’ll take my boring, old fashioned fun any day.
Word count: 250 Huzzah!
I'm sure I'll get a chance to look around some of the other posts in the morning!