Welcome to day two of the Winter Writing Challenge! Are you ready to get those creative juices flowing? I loved reading all your submissions yesterday. Let’s see what you come up with today!
Here’s your next prompt!
Write a vignette about waiting outside on the front porch.
Think you’re up for the challenge? We can’t wait to see what sort of vignette you guys come up with. Remember, it’s time to work together to unlock some of those awesome prizes, so post your vignette in the comments!
But wait…what’s a vignette and how do I write one?
A vignette is a brief evocative description, account, or episode. It doesn’t have any plot, backstory, or any elements that can move the story forward. For more on how to write a vignette, click here!
(Keep in mind, they should be less than 500 words!)
Before you start writing, we have some important rules for you to follow.
Writing Rules
1. Please keep the content of the poems and vignettes 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. Have fun!
Remember to scroll all the way to the bottom of the page and post your story as an “answer” to this question. 🙂
You guys posted over 130 times yesterday, via this Q&A Board, Facebook, and Instagram! That’s incredible, and we’re well on our way for big prizes.
Remember, if at least 50 people post every day, we’ll all get one free month of Premium Membership to The Company. Premium Members get access to all of The Company’s live coaching groups, where you can get real answers from real professionals for all of your writing and publishing questions. Keep posting, and let’s get this!
Happy Writing!
Alli Prince
Father never came home last night. Mother was feeling better, so I let my sisters enjoy her company after breakfast without the older brother. Let them talk about girl things.
I grab my coat and go outside to stand on the stoop, the closest this old dusty trailer has to a front porch. It got cold again, and I can see frost on the deck rail as my breath clouds over in the early morning air.
Speaking of clouds, there isn’t one in the sky. This is the first year that the family celebrated Christmas without any snow, and I guess the frost will have to do. One thing that this cold is good for is that the winds aren’t bringing up the gritty dust from the West Texas plains.
It must be my imagination, but the air doesn’t smell, or maybe it’s what people call fresh. I have gotten so used to the smell of burning oil and gas that I had forgotten what that was like. Even before our family’s nomadic existence, I always remember smelling something in the air.
The smell of the pine or sea breeze candles brings back childhood memories – memories of days before Jodie was born; days when Mother and Father got along. I wonder if in another ten years that seeing an open flame or the smell of burning petroleum will trigger a similar reaction and bring me back to today.
As it has been for the past six months, it is so quiet around our “home.” We are so isolated that we could be in the middle of a forest, but there are no trees for miles around. I sometimes think nature abandoned us as well, but today, I see the chilled soil has held the traces of small footprints in the loose top layer.
I would guess a hare based on the fat imprints behind the smaller ones in front. There’s a stand of scrub brush nearby, and the freak snowstorm a few weeks ago left some water in the hollows. He should do OK, unless …
Maybe the hare should watch out as I hear one coyote calling out to another in the near distance. We never see them up close, unless you count the cartoon versions on our school gear. They seem to be as afraid of us as we would be of them if our paths crossed.
I stare out at my little world. The backboard and basketball hoop tacked onto the telephone pole next to the hardpacked turnaround and lane that serves as Father’s driveway. The road that stretches left and right to nowhere …
OK. Maybe not nowhere as we turn left to go to our school. But the ride is endless and is as featureless as my view from the stoop.
I wish I had put on a hoodie before I went out. It is a lot colder than it was yesterday, and I don’t even have the sun to warm me yet. It’s still low in the sky and hasn’t cleared the roof of the trailer.
You can’t hear them from this distance, but a pair of majestic birds are soaring to the south. Their soundless dance brings some activity to this landscape. Shadows are now appearing in the undulating vista.
And the winds are starting to howl! As I look in vain for the City of Midland, it looks like the dust is starting to pick up again. But that’s from the wrong direction, I think. The wind should be pushing that dust away from me.
I squint into the sun and see the outline of a rare vehicle heading our way. I watch for several minutes as it gets closer. Not Father’s truck. No sense in getting my hopes up. But as the white SUV gets closer to our lot, the driver turns into the driveway.
I can barely make out Father’s face through the tinted glass. Before he turns off the motor, I run back inside and yell, “Father’s home!”
Late, but still wanted to write something, so I’m posting it as a comment, if that’s ok. (it’s also not my best work)
The red gingham pattern of her dress stood out starkly against the white siding of her picturesque childhood home. From my view, her life was pretty perfect. She had a loving family, friends that were with her through thick and thin, and everything a girl could want.
And as I stood here, in the street, my breath puffing out into great white clouds in the cold, watching her wait for me on the porch, I realized something.
I couldn’t stand here forever, watching her wait for me here on the porch. It was now I had to make the decision.