Prompt Three - The Totally Most Awesome Summer Ever

Thought I'd post mine early so I can get it out of the way before classes start up. Also, I kinda hate myself for writing this. So enjoy. XP
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It was summer time now. So Krystal Rose Andriella Magnifica Livingstonhouse should have been really psyched. Usually in the summer she goes to the beach every day with her two bestest friends ever and then they drive around Wealthford Beach, Connecticut in her super awesome Lambo and then they visit their boyfriends and they totally do it all night because they only pick the sexiest guys to be their boyfriends. And then on weekends they always go to the hottest parties and dance the night away and get totally wasted!

But now Krystal was really sad. Because it was already summer and NOTHING good had happened yet. The weather had been really gross and rainy for THREE WHOLE DAYS and it was totally unfair because Krystal really wanted to go to the beach because her tan was already one shade lighter than it was last week. And even worse, her parents hadn't even given her her present yet! They told her this year they were going to give her a special present for the summer, they said it was cause she graduated highschool or something, and they had said that FIVE WHOLE DAYS ago and she hadn't seen it yet!

Then suddenly one morning she woke up and changed out of her favorite Ralph Lauren pajamas and she put on these really cute cutoff shorts and a bright yellow halter top from Nordstrom's that looked totally awesome against her flawless tanned skin. Oh and she has beautiful long, thick, silky, waist-length, naturally bleach-blond hair although she doesn't bleach it cause it just grows in that color all by itself. She also has big, gorgeous, sparkling blue eyes and a cute nose and big soft lips but they're not too big, just right. She's five-four so she's really short and she wishes she was tall like all the supermodels. And she has perfect big boobs that are totally sexy and natural, no implants or anything, but she's also really, really skinny. She's a size zero in jeans, so she's not fat, even though she has really big boobs and ass. Her friends always tell her she's just the perfect size! She was going downstairs and on her way she heard her dad yell out "Krystal, come down into the dining room, we have something to tell you." So she went there.

When she got where she was going she saw her mom and dad sitting in the dining room. "Sweetie we have something to tell you" said her mom. "So sit down and eat some breakfast while we tell you." Krystal sighed cause it was so unfair, this was already the worst summer ever and now her parents were actually making her eat! But then she felt hungry and she remembered she hadn't eaten anything since the tall blended mocha caramel macchiato hazelnut cinnamon latte from Starbucks she had two days ago, so she sat down and ate three whole bites of toast.

"Honey remember how I told you we would get you a special present this year?" Said her dad. "Well here it is. I have been working on it for the past few days so I'm sorry. But I was having our cleaning company go in and fix up our beach front house for you. So you and your two friends can go to the beach house all by yourselves and do whatever you want for two weeks. How does that sound?"

"OH.MY.GOD! THANK YOU MOMMY AND DADDY YOU'RE AWESOME!" Krystal yelled. She was totally psyched now! She jumped up and ran out of the room to go pack. She pulled out her Prada suitcase and filled it with all her Bebe and Ralph Lauren and all her other designer clothes and her Sephora makeup. Then she called her best friends and told them what was going on so they could get ready. They were both really psyched too.

One of her best friends was Julianna Lynnelanna Westmooreton. She was kinda tall at five-eight and had long thick chestnut brown hair that fell to just under her shoulder blades and sexy brown eyes. She had a really nice figure too, but she was a size one in jeans, but it totally wasn't a problem because of her height. And her other best friend was Candace Destinystar Grandworth. She was five-six so she was kinda short, but she was also a size zero like Krystal and she had thick, shiny red hair that curled just under her shoulders. She had sparkling green eyes and a good figure but she was also naturally really pale so she had to tan the most out of all of them.

So they all got picked up in Krystal's dad's limo and they went out to the beach house. It was totally beautiful and there were a ton of rooms and a huge pool and bar out back. As soon as the limo driver dude went away the girls all drove Krystal's Lambo into town and used their fake IDs to buy tons of alcohol to put in the bar! Then they went to the beach.

At the beach they spent all day looking hot and flirting with all the sexy boys that walked past them. And they also watched all the people zooming around the ocean in their really cool speedboats and wished they could do that too.

Then suddenly, "Hey!" said a boy. Krystal turned to look at him. He was tall and had beautiful tanned skin and a really buff chest and arms, and even a six-pack. His hair was dark brown and spiked up with a lot of gel, and he had ice-blue eyes. "Hey, said Krystal." They talked for a while. She found out his name was Justin and he was on vacation here too with some of his friends. He was also really loaded and he had ten billion dollars. She asked if he had a cool speedboat too. "Yeah, but I can't drive it right now cause it needs a new propeller," he said. "I have to go pick up a new pimped-out one tomorrow. Maybe you could come with me and afterwards we could hang out on the boat." "That sounds awesome!" Krystal said. I'm so excited!" And right after that Julianna and Candace found guys too and planned to spend the day with them.

So the next morning Justin picked her up in his Ferrari and they went to the propeller store. They went in and the girl at the counter brought out a big box. Justin opened it and Krystal saw a shiny, golden propeller. "Oh wow! A solid gold propeller! You are sooooo sexy!" she said and she hugged Justin. "Um no miss, that's bronze," said the counter girl. Krystal's jaw dropped. "Why isn't it GOLD, Justin? It's NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" "Ok, calm down babe," said Justin. "I'll buy a solid gold one for you because you're so beautiful." Krystal smiled. "Um sir I can order you a solid gold one if you really want but it will take about a week to get here." Justin started doing all this boring paperwork stuff so Krystal went outside and listened to her Ipod.

While she was out there a guy was walking past. He was about five-eight and was kinda tan, but not as much as Justin. He had a really hot face and nice light brown hair bleached at the tips, but he wasn't that buff and he definitely didn't have good pecs. He went over and introduced himself as Jason and said he wAS ON VACATION TOo. He was kinda rich cause he had five billion dollars. He asked what she was doing later and she said she was hanging out with her boyfriend. Then he invited them to his party on Saturday and she said they might be there.

So then she and Justin went driving around in his Ferrari and afterwards they went back to his beach front house and got totally drunk. Then they did it in his Ferrari and it was really sexy. Justin said it was the best sex ever.

The next few days Krystal spent time hanging out with Justin, Candace and Julianna and their new boyfriends. They all had an awesome time at the beach and they went drinking every night. Then it was Saturday and they all decided to go to Jason's party. But then Justin suddenly couldn't go cause he had to go pick up the new propeller! Krystal was kinda sad but her friends promised they would all have a great time. So she went and she started dancing with Jason. He was an awesome dancer and they were both drunk and having a good time so they went upstairs to his bedroom and they did it. Krystal felt kinda bad about it especially because he wasn't as good as Justin but he was just so nice she really didn't want to be rude and say no.

So the next week was kinda hard for Krystal and she was bummed about that because she wanted to have an awesome vacation. Justin got his propeller and they had an awesome time going really fast around the lake with his new blingin' solid gold propeller. But she didn't know whether she wanted Justin or Jason more. Justin was really fucking gorgeous and had ten billion dollars but he had almost bought a BRONZE propeller instead of a gold one, but Jason was kinda hot and only had five billion dollars but was super nice. Krystal knew this would be the biggest decision of her life. So she went and got her nails done while she decided. Then when her nails were dry she texted Julianna and Candace on her pink cellphone studded with diamonds to tell them who she chose.

That night was their last night at the beach house and they were also throwing the biggest bash of the summer. All the coolest and sexiest people in town were there and everybody was drinking, dancing and having a fantastic time. But she knew it was time to make her decision. She went out to the middle of the dance floor and had the DJ stop the music. "Attention everyone, I have an announcement to make," she said. "I choose... JUSTIN!" Justin came forward and they kissed with lots of tongue and it looked really beautiful and sexy. Krystal just knew in her heart that he was different from all the others and they would get married and have lots of babies and be happy forever. So it was totally the most awesome summer ever.

THE END!

PROMPT THREE

Here's one of my absolute favorite exercises:

Write a bad story.

DUE: Wednesday, September 10, 11:59 PM.

Prompt #2 - Where I Found Myself Not Too Long Ago

My original ideas for this prompt were completely different than what you see here. The harder I tried to write out my Plan A material, the more boring and lame it got. So here's what I finally came up with.

I pass by a window on my way to the bedroom, but I refuse to let myself even look at it. I know all too well that the sky beyond it is bottomless cornflower-blue, and the rich green leaves on the tree whose branches form a perfect cradling arc over the house across the street are like an army of flags waving on a hill, enticing me over to greet them. Best to avoid temptation, as there's still work to be done.

The shades on the bedroom windows have been drawn since yesterday afternoon, when the setting sun glared through them and made it almost impossible for me to see the words in my book. Resisting the urge to yank them up, I cross over to the stereo and press the power button. The room instantly fills with music; something in the pit of my stomach slackens, like a knot unraveling that I didn't even know had been tied.

I pick up the dustcloth and set to work, allowing myself to get swept into the rhythm. I keep a steady pace around the room by counting out the beat, swishing the cloth over the furniture as though each motion were a step in a dance. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight is the headboard; two-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight is the nightstand. Soon, I'm back where I started, and I trade the dustcloth for the broom. I imagine the floorboards are the keys of a giant piano and the bristles of my broom are thousands of spindly fingers, and I compose a silent melody.

Before long, I've finished with the whole room, and it's finally time to enjoy that delicious-looking day outside. I put away the cleaning supplies and switch off the stereo -- but the music doesn't stop.

The summer breeze whispers through the trees lining the street, creating a cadence of rustling leaves that flows around me as I walk. My feet, clad in last year's fraying flip-flops, scuff haltingly along the sidewalk, picking their way over the lumps where tree roots have protested being paved over. Somewhere nearby, a cicada hums to himself. I am not completely alone -- I pass a jogging woman and an elderly couple out for a stroll, each of which smile and nod to me, and I return the favor.

Even if I had met no one, I would not consider myself alone. The events of the day before yesterday, when my friends and I gathered to drive to the same old places and eat junk food and generally do nothing much at all, stream incessantly through my head. Each burst of laughter, each sarcastic comment, each impromptu critique of the newest song to blast through the car speakers seems as vivid as if it had happened mere seconds ago. I smile to myself.

I reach the park. A wide swath of grass stretches before me, framed by gnarled trees on three sides and a moderately busy road on the fourth. I cross the road and make my way across the grass, hunkering down on the far side of a rock so that I can see a bit of each. I almost open my book, but I simply sit for a moment, my fingers splayed over the spine.

I've never been a very pious person, but, I suddenly find myself thinking, if there is a Heaven out there somewhere, I hope it's not much different than this.

Prompt #1 - Jill's!

By the time Carl shucks off the cap and slides the next bottle over, Joe's vision is already starting to blur. He only manages to grab the bottle by digging the fingernails of one hand into the countertop for balance, pressing little half-moons into the soft, rot-riddled wood. When he raises it to his lips, his arm muscles jerk and spasm as though they've forgotten how to work in tandem. Carl watches him out of the corner of his eye, knowing he'll have to cut him off soon, but dreading it all the same.

When Joe surfaces from his swig, the first thing he hears is the blaring of the bar's dusty old TV, perched high in a corner and adorned with a faded old sign admonishing the patrons not to change the channel. Billy's ignored it as usual, browsing through the channels between sips of scotch. Joe doesn't pay much attention to it until Billy settles on the news station and something about the reporter's voice catches his ear.

"-- has decided to use a portion of this grant to increase highway patrol throughout Chickasaw County, concentrating on Highways 8 and 15 in particular. Sergeant Chris Trenton of the Salvage Police Department commented on this decision for us."

The scene shifts to a clean-cut, smiling man standing outside the town police station. "Well, as Chickasaw is one of the few non-dry counties in Mississippi, we feel we need to make an extra effort to combat drunk driving..."

Joe turns away from the TV, his tanned forehead contorting into a scowl. Even though he's working on beer number lucky seven, he still can't bring himself to look at that face.

"Dunno why he thinks there's gonna be much to find here," Billy says. "Ain't nothin' ever happens 'round Salvage."

"Yep, pretty quiet," Sam chimes in, looking up from his one-man game of pool. "'Cept I don't think that Trenton kid would agree, d'you?" He and Billy share a glance. Further down the bar, Joe's hand clenches around number seven, which doesn't feel quite so lucky anymore.

"Well, no, y'got a point there, Sammy." Carl shakes his head in disbelief, chuckling. "Shit, comin' up on twenty years and they still ain't caught nobody?"

"No indeed. Musta been a right awful state of affairs, though, 'cause I remember hearin' when I was a kid they had to have his poor ma in one of them closed caskets, she was so roughed up--"

"You dunno what the hell you're talkin' about," Joe growls. The others are hesitant to look over at him, as though they'd been all too happy to forget he was there. He totters to his feet, pushing back his barstool with a thick groan of metal scraping against wood. "I don't wanna hear one more fuckin' word about none of that Trenton business."

"Take it easy there, Joe," says Carl. "We're just discussin', is all."

Joe takes a few lurching steps forward. "Y'all think you're so fuckin' smart?" he asks, glowering through the low-lit haze. "I ain't gonna sit here and let you carry on your goddamn discussin'."

Billy bristles, stubbing his cigarette into the ashtray more harshly than usual. "Ain't your place to decide that, Joe."

Joe throws his beer bottle to the floor. It shatters, the remainder of its contents fizzing balefully amongst the shards of amber glass. "I think we oughta step outside, Billy."

"I think you oughta step outside, Joe," says Carl, "and not step back in." He concentrates on squashing down even the tiniest bit of fear, knowing Joe will slip into any little weak spot he can see.

With a final "Fuck you!", Joe storms out of the bar and into the street. The sun hasn't even fully gone down yet, enfolding Main Street in long, low shadows that aren't yet strong enough to trigger the streetlights. He curses and raves as he staggers down the street, his eyes struggling under the double influence of the alcohol and the fluctuating levels of light. As he swims out from the shadow that has spilled itself between the hardware store and the coffee shop, he encounters a woman and a young boy. The woman clutches the child's shoulders and steers him behind her, the color draining from her face. "What the fuck you lookin' at?" he bellows before he can stop himself. He ducks between the two buildings, and when he glances back, he sees her frantically pushing buttons on her cell phone. Muttering under his breath, Joe lopes down the alleyway, knowing he'll have to stick to the back roads and woods if he wants to get where he's going without the cops showing up.

He stumbles along through the slippery grass that marks the transition between road and wood, slapping his palm against the scraggly tree trunks to steady himself. Soon he catches himself wishing he was drunker than he is now, so he wouldn't have to think about where he's going. In the back of his mind, though, he knows it wouldn't make a difference, as he could probably find the place blindfolded. No matter how thoroughly he tries to drown himself in drink or fill himself with vitriol until it bubbles over, there's something about this place that he just can't abandon, as though it had buried an anchor in the pit of his stomach long ago and was now carefully, deliberately reeling him in.

At last, he rounds a curve in the road and knows he has arrived. The driveway is still there. The woods have never managed to completely conquer it; instead, they have filled in a once-severe rectangular tunnel through the shrubbery, creating a rounded, supple curtain that separates what lies beyond from the rest of the world. Through the oldest of the trees, he can see the corner of the roof, pockmarked with missing shingles, and half a boarded-up window. He wants to see the lawn, its graceful slopes once manicured to perfection, now choked and swarming with decades of overgrowth. He knows the truth about where she's buried. Taking a deep breath, he sets off down the old gravel path.

A police siren wails directly behind him, and he shouts and jumps, twisting to face it. Officer Mulborn pulls up and smiles at him as he rolls down the passenger window.

"Evenin', Joe. Heard you were causin' a racket in town just now. I think you oughta come with me."

***

At the station, Joe glares at Officer Mulborn as he's led down the familiar hallway. The portrait of Sergeant Trenton grins at him from above its polished plaque, and he averts his gaze. "You'll have to sober up here," Mulborn says as he ushers Joe into a cell. "We'll let you go in the mornin'." The door clangs shut in front of him, and he sinks down onto the bench, head sagging against the back wall.

It's a slow Monday night at the station, and as far as Joe can tell, he's the only one in there. He's surprised to hear the echo of footsteps down the hallway, and when Sergeant Trenton appears and draws up a chair opposite his cell, it turns to revulsion. He twists sideways on the bench and tilts his head so that his shaggy brown hair will sweep out to his chin, hiding his face.

"Hey, Joe. Had a rough night?" There's still a smile in Chris's voice.

Joe only manages an affirmative grunt in reply; the thought of a conversation with this man makes him want to punch something.

"What's this, your third spin through the drunk tank?"

"Fourth," Joe mutters.

"Ah. Now look, I heard they picked you up over by the old house. What were you doin' over there?" The smile is fading.

"None of your goddamn business."

"I think you know it is my business, Joe. And if you're gonna tell anybody why you're goin' there, it should be me. Remember all those good times we had in that big ol' house? Playin' hide and seek and cops n' robbers and all that?"

Joe shudders and hunches his shoulder up to aid his hair. The alcohol suddenly threatens to make a reappearance, and he doubles over, willing his stomach to stop contracting.
"C'mon," Chris continues, "if the place means that much to you, you really oughta tell me what's goin' on."

Joe whips himself around to face Chris, panting, the muscles in his jaw quivering with the effort to keep his throat under control. "I was out for a walk," he states, with enough finality that even Chris knows it's fruitless to continue.

"Alright then," he says, "I'll come back for you in the mornin'."

Joe waits until the sound of Chris's footsteps has ceased entirely before he lets himself lose control. He folds himself over the cell's toilet seat, choking up the last of the beer.

He remembers his and Chris's games all too well. He remembers the last game of hide-and-seek they ever played. It was a crisp November day, and even though they'd wanted to stay inside and chase each other through the house, Chris's mother had shooed them outside. She and his father were fighting again, Chris had told Joe, it's best to stay out of their way. Joe, however, tired of Chris always winning so easily and frustrated at his lack of ability to find a suitably clever hiding space, had decided to sneak into the house and hide in one of the rooms, knowing Chris would never even think of it. He had chosen the armoire in Chris's mother's bedroom and gleefully crawled inside, not bothered by the sounds of his parents screaming at each other several rooms away.

When the screams got louder and closer, however, he began to worry, and was just about to make a run for it when the door flew open and Chris's mother was shoved through, closely followed by the father. They argued for another minute or so, though Joe can't remember a single word either of them actually said, before the father attacked. He threw his hands around her throat and squeezed, shouting at her all the while; she began gasping and choking, her mouth twisted into a misshapen oval, the lips turning bluer and bluer. Through it all her eyes stayed focused on the father's face; the raw fear and disbelief in them was enough to make Joe's head spin. The sharp snapping noise sent him over the edge, and he shrank back into the armoire, hiding his face in one of her dresses. Finally, when she had stopped moving and lay sprawled on the floor, he summoned his courage and peeked out. Her neck lolled at a grotesque angle and was blooming with purple splotches. His shifting weight must have made a noise, as the father had thrown open the door and stared at him, his face as red as his wife's had turned white.

"You -- get on outta here! You just go!" he had shrieked, pointing at the door.

Joe had gritted his teeth. "I'll tell everybody! You ain't gonna win!"

The father had grabbed him by his shirt collar and pulled him frighteningly close. "You do that, boy, and she won't be the only dead momma 'round here." The father had flung him towards the door, and Joe had started running, not daring to look back.

Joe drags himself back to the bench, curling up on it as best he can and trying to ignore the moonlight streaming in through the window above. He refuses to look at the wall opposite his cell, where Chris had stood only minutes before, as he cannot bear to look at the portrait of Police Chief Christopher Trenton, Sr., hanging next to that of his son.