Welcome to the fifth week of the Spring Writing Challenge!
You all did so well with your stories last week! There were so many interesting and unique ways you interpreted the prompt. It’s now the fifth week, so it’s time to do it again! Will your story have fairies? Time travel? Ghosts?! Whatever you decide, we can’t wait to see what you come up with.
So, without further ado, here’s your next prompt!
Week Five Prompt – The Sentence Prompt
Write a story that includes the following sentence:
Needless to say, this wasn’t the first time…
Wait…what’s a sentence prompt?
A sentence prompt is a prompt that uses a particular sentence. It doesn’t matter where your story takes place, who’s in it, or what’s said. The only thing that matters is that your story must include the sentence, “Needless to say, this wasn’t the first time.”
Before you start writing, we have some important rules for you to follow.
Writing Rules
1. Please keep the content of the stories you post to a PG rating. Please avoid real curse words. Violence/fighting should be limited and purposeful. Please do not include any spice.
2. Your story must be 1,000 words or less, and must contain the prompt to be counted for the challenge. You’re not required to post it in order to “win” the challenge, but if you want it to count for your team, your story must be posted by Sunday at 11:59 PM ET, and you must include your team name.
Remember to scroll all the way to the bottom of the page and post your story as an “answer” to this question, not a “comment”. 🙂 You’re all doing such a great job! I’m so proud of all the stories you’ve posted.
Happy Writing!
Joshua Forbes, Team A 🙂
The Time Shoppe
The Time Shoppe sits quaintly on the side of the road. You know the one. It’s about halfway between the dark forest and the endless sea, a little beyond the canyon but not quite at the mountain. If you reach the crossroad you’ve gone too far (there’s a different kind of business done there), and if you’re at the rose gardens you’ve not gone far enough. The building itself is quaint, a little more than a pioneer cabin but a little less than a roadside attraction. It is wooden and simple.
Inside the Time Shoppe customers peruse the shelves. Here an old widow examines a jar of needles. She has already decided to spend some autonomy to buy a few years. Privately she worries that the indulgence will make her weak, that she will become addicted to the ease of letting others run her life for her. She will.
A shelf away a young boy turns a candy bar over and over in his hands. Several sensible adults have warned him that this particular sweet will cost him a few years of his life. He can see from the price tag that they were right, but it is specifically a few years at the end of his life, the gray and distant ones. He decides to buy just one year’s worth. He will end up spending twenty years, and then he will stop on a dime.
At the counter a lady (it would be rude to ask her age) is arguing with the shopkeeper about some of the special watches, the ones in the locked cabinet behind the register. She has been given a choice between the rest of her life with a child or the rest of her life without that child. The price of one is the other. On some level she knows that whatever she picks she will regret, and it’s not really the shopkeeper’s fault, but she yells at him all the same.
Eventually she storms out. A man in a nice suit holds the door for her on his way in. He walks straight to the main desk, paying no attention to the shelves of oddities and trinkets. He greats the shopkeeper with a smile, and even addresses him by name while pointing at the locked cabinet.
Needless to say, this wasn’t the first time this man had bought. When he was still a boy, not much older than the one two shelves over, he had spent his early years for academic success. This earned him a good, steady job, and later he spent some happiness for a few extra hours at said job. Finally he paid for time with time, selling the seconds he had with his family for the extra minutes he needed to meet the deadlines of his work.
He got what he paid for. He was promoted several times, ultimately landing somewhere between upper-middle management and lower-upper management. He even made enough to put his daughter through college. He’d never thought twice about his purchases until then.
They were at a dinner party to celebrate her graduation. The sun had just set. His daughter had politely said that she felt tired, and was going home to sleep. The man had offered to stay out later, to buy dessert, or drinks, or anything she wanted, but no. No, she said, thank you, but no. When she was a little girl, his daughter would stay up all night waiting for him to come home. He remembered getting back from work at nine, ten, even eleven at night, and she would be there. He tried to tiptoe as quietly as possible, but it didn’t matter. She always heard him. He remembered setting his work materials down, and her running in to greet him. He remembered scolding her, telling her she should be in bed. Now she was grown, and thank you, but she was going home to sleep.
Now the man found himself back at the Time Shoppe, pointing at the locked cabinet. “Are you sure?” asks the shopkeeper, clearly surprised. “It’s a heavy price.” A nod. “Alright, if you truly want this, be aware: It will cost you the first thing you see when you go home. Whatever it is.” The shopkeeper carefully takes down a watch. It is silver and simple. “For what it’s worth, there are other ways to make up for lost time.”
The man insists. He vows to pay the price. The shopkeeper pulls out the form (yes, even such things as these have paperwork). “You have a one-year delay on payment. Means you won’t have to pay the price until one year from now,” he explains. The man signs immediately. The shopkeeper eyes him with pity, but business is business and a deal is a deal. The man clips his new-bought watch onto his wrist, and walks out. He does not look back.
The man wastes no time going home. He lives far down the road, and it is already night when he arrives. He tiptoes, as quiet as he can. He plans to look at his books. He was proud of his academics once upon a time, but now he’s decided he could do without. That’s an easy price. All he has to do is make sure to look at the books. The lights are off and he can’t see anything at first, so he fumbles around and flips the light switch.
“Daddy you’re home!” His little girl is running to greet him, and he realizes too late as the first thing he sees is her goofy grin. He got what he’d paid for. He’d gotten the time back, back to when she was still a little girl who liked to stay up at night waiting for him. Now he sees her. He checks his watch. It is counting down one year. He puts his work materials down. He walks to his daughter.
Then he hugs her.
He hugs her tightly.
TEAM A
SUSAN BY ADELAIDE RIGGS
Near the local dirt road in a lush field, there was an abundant variety of grasses, wild flowers, and small creatures. All who dwelled here lived their lives with simplicity and gratitude. This included Susan, a beautiful flower whose color reminded everyone of a ripe summer lemon (but she was not quite so sour).
One morning, Susan was in the clearing enjoying a soft breeze when suddenly the air rapidly changed direction. Fragile as she was, Susan fell on her face, unable to get up. Panicking, she tried calling for help but the ground muffled her voice. Susan was helpless.
Just a minute later, a tiny, round old woman wearing a bright red cloak with black polka dots came into the clearing. It was Mrs. Dotty! She noticed the girl laying on the ground.
“Oh my!” exclaimed Mrs. Dotty as she hurried over to Susan. “What ever happened to you, dear?”
“I fell and ca-can’t move,” replied Susan quietly. “Could you he-help me?” Then she began to cry.
“Yes, yes of course! Be patient my dear. I’ll go as fast as I’m able to the house of Dr. Chippy.” And with that, Mrs. Dotty turned and quickly scuttled away, her red cloak fluttering behind her.
Susan was alone again, and very anxious. She wondered if she would never rise to see the blue sky again. Despite these thoughts, she tried to focus on her respiration. After what felt like months, she heard a pitter-patter, and out from the tall grass appeared Dr. Chippy with little Mrs. Dotty riding on his back.
“There she is, Doctor!” said Mrs. Dotty, pointing with one hand while the other five hung on tight. Needless to say, this wasn’t the first time he had been summoned, however this was the first time he had dealt with little old woman riding on his back.
“I see, I see! Please do not yell, you’re already near enough to my ear!” replied the doctor. Dr. Chippy was tall, dapper, orderly man, with a decent amount of good humor. They approached Susan.
“Hello?” asked the girl.
“Hello! So sorry about your condition. I’m Dr. Chippy, and we will help you get up.” These words made Susan feel better.
“Pardon, but where is the other one?” inquired Mrs. Dotty.
“Well, Perk should have been behind us. Excuse me for a second.” The doctor filled his cheeks and gave a couple sharp whistles.
In a moment, a boy appeared next to them. He looked rather lofty, and had a smirk on his round face. Mrs. Dotty jumped up and landed in a ball, her arms and legs tucked in.
“Perk!” said the doctor sternly as his son began to laugh. “This is a serious matter. I did not ask you to come along to play games!” Susan thought it was quite funny, but would have enjoyed it more if it weren’t for the condition she was in.
“Ok, let’s get to it,” said the motivated doctor. “Madam, you fetch some water from the brook and grab some witch hazel on your way back. Perk, you’ll need to climb onto my shoulders so we can lift this poor girl up.” Immediately Mrs. Dotty flew down the hill to complete her orders.
Just as Perk was about to climb upon his father’s back, Dr. Chippy noticed a break in Susan’s back. “Oh my, we will need some long grass to bind that wound. Got it, Perk?” “Sure, dad!”
Overhearing the doctor’s concern, Susan’s nerves were on the rise. “A-am I going to be OK?”
“I believe you’re going to be just fine,” consoled the doctor.
Perk made quick work of gathering some long grass and wasted no time in hopping up onto his father’s shoulders. They worked together to lift Susan up off the ground and stand her upright, Dr. Chippy encouraging Susan throughout the process.
Mrs. Dotty arrived not a moment too soon with the water and witch hazel, the latter of which was applied to Susan’s fracture.
In a jiffy Dr. Chippy had bound her wound with the green bandage and all was well.
“Oh, thank you all! I feel so much better, except it feels like my eye might be bruised,” said Susan.
“Well miss,” Dr. Chippy responded, “it does look pretty dark.”
“Black, I’d say,” added Mrs. Dotty.
Dr. Chippy applied the witch hazel to Susan’s bruise, but it did not seem to work.
“I’m sorry, but there is not much else I can do. What’s your name, miss?”
“Susan.”
“Susan,” Dr. Chippy looked her in the face. “Your black eye is beautiful.”
“Black eyed Susan.” said Mrs. Dotty….