3 Word Roulette
Started another three random word writing prompt. My words are Janet, a lighter, and an alley. I have no title, but this is what I've managed so far...
The lighter had been a point of contention for years between her and her brother, to the point that they actually had stopped speaking for the better part of her junior and senior year in high school. Jason, her brother, insisted that the lighter was given to him by their dead grandfather. Or more correctly, it was promised to him.
Janet, whose mother insisted on calling her Precious anytime she could, knew better. She knew better, because as their grandfather lay dying in the back bedroom of the small brick house, he had promised it to her. His shaking hands had cradled her own around the lighter when he told her his intentions.
Why was the lighter so important?
Hearing that distinct snap of the lid as the Zippo lighter offered its flame to her grandfather’s pipe was such a strong trigger to a tremendous flood of memories, both good and bad. He had carried that lighter with him as a badge of honor just as he did the pipe which had been given to him by his great grandfather.
“Precious are about ready to go? I don’t want to be late,” her mother’s voice called up the stairwell.
“Just another minute,” she called back.
Janet knew they wouldn’t be late. They were going to end up being thirty minutes early just like they were to practically everything. Why on earth her mother needed to be there so early was beyond her. It wasn’t like they couldn’t find something else to do other than wait.
Running a brush through her tangle of formidable blonde curls, curls which she had given up on ever straightening out, she used her hands to gently bring the hair over her shoulders. Quickly, almost savagely, she looked at her reflection. Taking her fingers and running them beneath her eyes, the puffiness still there though she had been sleeping better, she decided it would just have to be good enough.
I'll let you know how it progresses.
The lighter had been a point of contention for years between her and her brother, to the point that they actually had stopped speaking for the better part of her junior and senior year in high school. Jason, her brother, insisted that the lighter was given to him by their dead grandfather. Or more correctly, it was promised to him.
Janet, whose mother insisted on calling her Precious anytime she could, knew better. She knew better, because as their grandfather lay dying in the back bedroom of the small brick house, he had promised it to her. His shaking hands had cradled her own around the lighter when he told her his intentions.
Why was the lighter so important?
Hearing that distinct snap of the lid as the Zippo lighter offered its flame to her grandfather’s pipe was such a strong trigger to a tremendous flood of memories, both good and bad. He had carried that lighter with him as a badge of honor just as he did the pipe which had been given to him by his great grandfather.
“Precious are about ready to go? I don’t want to be late,” her mother’s voice called up the stairwell.
“Just another minute,” she called back.
Janet knew they wouldn’t be late. They were going to end up being thirty minutes early just like they were to practically everything. Why on earth her mother needed to be there so early was beyond her. It wasn’t like they couldn’t find something else to do other than wait.
Running a brush through her tangle of formidable blonde curls, curls which she had given up on ever straightening out, she used her hands to gently bring the hair over her shoulders. Quickly, almost savagely, she looked at her reflection. Taking her fingers and running them beneath her eyes, the puffiness still there though she had been sleeping better, she decided it would just have to be good enough.
I'll let you know how it progresses.
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