writing

Maybe You Have Magic

pexels-photo-775998I was sitting on the floor, knees parked up, book spines digging into my back, already finished with The Little Prince and halfway through the first Series of Unfortunate Events book when she arrived.  She was a symphony of rustling fabric, jangling bangles, and little sighs as she sat on the floor across from me, dropping her big leather bag big enough to store severed heads in by her side.  She held an ice cream cone mounded with vanilla ice cream in one hand.  Settled, she took a huge lick, making sure to do it as obnoxiously as possible as I watched her.

“Where did you get that?” I said.

“Street vendor.”

“It’s nine o’clock in the morning.”

“It’s nine thirty.”

“Why are you eating ice cream?”

“I like ice cream.”

“For breakfast?”

“For anytime.”

I turned a page.  “You’re weird.”

“I know.”  Then she took a long, loud slurp.  From the corner of my eye, the man at the register turned to stare.  Cream coating her lips, she grinned at me and took a Jaws-sized bite out of the waffle cone.  I watched her as she munched, my best friend with her black leggings with gold stars and Iron Maiden t-shirt, wristful of silver bangles and beat up red high top Converses.

“Good book?” she said, a little wetly.

“Not bad.”

“We’re going to my gran’s at four.”

The book closed in my lap as I let my legs snap out to their full length, my right foot sinking into the side of her enormous purse.  “No.”

“There’ll be cookies.”

No.”

“And super hot strippers practicing their pole dancing in the garage.”

“Assuming that would sway me is a cheap assessment of my character,” I said.

She shrugged a shoulder and bit off more cone.

I sighed, letting my head fall back against the shelves.  “She’s gonna tell me my fortune.”

“She’s gonna tell you what she senses of your future,” she corrected.  She didn’t say it with heat.  I almost wished she would; an argument over her grandmother’s witchery would give me an excuse not to go.

“She’s gonna tell me I’m bound for pain and suffering.”

“She only says that so you’ll resist the urge to fuck her granddaughter,” she said, with an ice cream-rimmed smile.

I smirked at her and drew my knees up again, picking up the book and thumbing to my place.  “Maybe this time I’ll tell her to fuck off,” I mumbled.

She cackled.  “Maybe this time she’ll tell you something different.”

I looked over at her, skeptical.  “Like what?”

She popped the point of the cone into her mouth, dusted her hands off, and said, her mouth full, “Like you’ve got magic.”


Hey y’all!

Today’s prompt is bookstore / morning / ice cream

I’ve had such a busy day, I was afraid I wasn’t going to get this done.  Because even when I did finally have time, I was so tired that I just… didn’t want to!  But I also didn’t want to not do it because it’s only day three and I’m really trying to make a streak here.

Today’s response was one of those times where I let the story take me wherever it wanted to go.  I knew I wanted it to be set in a bookstore, but other than that, I was blank.  So this story developed one sentence at a time.

Review

I really like how this turned out!  I had a lot of fun with the dialogue, and I like how it turned out really punchy.  Dialogue is my favorite thing to write.  I also enjoyed the descriptions of the female character.  I wanted to give her that manic pixie feel without editorializing it as such.

Tomorrow’s prompt is red nail polish / glitter / dawn

If you’d like to join me and my fellow writer John Mastro in the 30 Day Restart Challenge, check out the prompt list here!

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2 thoughts on “Maybe You Have Magic”

  1. Oh, do I dislike that girl! And her eating of the ice cream…. It’s your descriptions and dialogue that truly brought her to life, and in a way that I can fully visualize. Iron Maiden T is awesome, btw! You said you were going for a manic pixie, and you accomplished that very well. This also teases some very interesting twists to come, with the magic… Very nice work!

    Like

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