Tag Archives: BeKindRewrite

Not Your Average Valentine

For this post I wanted to challenge myself and see if I could squeeze two prompts into one post. Something I will affectionately call a “two-fer.” This weeks’ post is in response to a Daily Post Writing Challenge, and an InMON prompt.

The Daily Post Weekly Writing Challenge Prompt: “You’re an intergalactic visitor who just happened to land on Earth on February 14. Describe the weirdness you’re seeing.” 

Inspiration Monday Prompt: “Yesterday’s News” 

Please enjoy my interpretation of the prompts. Happy reading!

“I know I remembered the truth once, I can feel it…but my memories are fuzzy…like yesterday’s news…” The words escaped and I regretted them immediately. I had acknowledged that something had happened; now they wouldn’t stop bringing in the recorder until I told them the truth. Whatever that was.

The recorder tape kept spinning. I watched the two wheels turn behind their clear shell and tried to count the rotations, which only caused my eyes to tear and go hazy. Instead, I broke my gaze and focused on the tattered piece of tape with a date typed in bright red…February 14.

“Funny,” I thought, “Valentine’s Day with my date…the recorder. You don’t talk much to do?”

I smiled, but my mind was conflicted. I knew I should continue. Didn’t want to waste tape because of my hesitation. Technology was valuable…But I didn’t want to revisit memories I’m sure were hidden for a reason.

“I know I should go back, to figure out what’s true, but how can I when I don’t know the whole story…All I have are these pieces of…feeling…nothing really. Not anything I could use to help, anyway.” I cracked my knuckles, loudly, a nervous habit. But why was I nervous? I sat on my hands to keep them still. My legs bounced up and down instead.

Hunched over, I looked at the recorder on the table. The continuous spinning made me self-conscious. Who would listen to me? All I knew were those who came into my room daily. Stone-faced physicians who thought I was crazy anyway. I guess for good reason. I was called in because of the chunk of time missing from our collective memory. And they wanted to help me…get the time back? Find the truth?

“You’re looking for the truth, right? What happened during the missing time…but I can’t give that to you. It’s not my fault,” I stammered, “I can’t remember!” I sounded angry…too loud…it was pointless to yell. I was alone. In a room. With a table, a chair, white walls, and my funny valentine, the recorder.

My legs were bouncing too hard now to be comfortable in my position. Releasing my hands, I stood, grabbed the recorder and hurled it against the wall. I loved the sound the pieces made as they ricocheted against the walls. The spinning subsided…

How did I do on my first “two-fer” prompt challenge?! Also, what do YOU want to read next?



Filed under Shorts

Happy InMon Everyone!

InMonAuthor’s Note: This short was written in response to an Inspiration Monday prompt.




Things You Can’t Hide

“Wanna see somethin’?” He smiled next to me at his desk, like he was hiding something, and swiveled around in his chair with his arms outstretched. The way he always did. I wondered if he had taken his ADD medication that morning.

“It’ll change how ‘yuh see me. I know it will.”

I stared skeptically at Vijay with one eyebrow raised.  The tattoos that covered his neck and arms stared back at me from under the oversized t-shirt he wore, the one with the red “BOSTON” letters emblazoned on the front. Those things you can’t hide.

“I’ll take that bet,” I snorted while sipping my coffee, trying and failing to hide my skepticism. “Then we have to get back to work. Your test isn’t going to pass itself.” He laughed and leaned on the desk, “I know miss! Let’s jus’ watch this real quick.”

There were the “click click clicks” as he tapped something on the keyboard and the following “whoosh” as an e-mail was sent to my inbox. These sounds, they typified our study sessions together, an underpaid tutor and an overwhelmed student.

Setting down my coffee mug, I opened up the new file which contained a video clip of some news segment. I could make out the local bug in the left hand corner.

“How did I miss this interview?” I thought, as I lowered the volume on the computer screen. I turned to Vijay for some kind of clue, but he just leaned back coolly in his chair and swiveled around again, that same sly smile on his lips.

The broadcaster’s familiar voice came through the speakers.

“As you may know our home town hero, Vijay Johnson, has been the focus of many stories here at KBTM.  Johnson’s athletic performance on the court has been unmatched this year and he shows no signs of slowing down anytime soon.  However, the road to the top has not been easy for Johnson…”

And Vijay was right; the video did change how I saw him. His history mattered. His story mattered.

The reasons behind those tattoos, where he came from, why he acted the way he did. How his father left his family when he was young, how his mother was murdered in front of his younger brother, how his cousins were shot and killed the year he left Boston to come to school here, it all mattered.

Why hadn’t I focused on this before? I had so many questions, but instead I slowly closed my computer, “Why did you show me this Vijay?”

“I jus’ wanted you to know where I came from, but that it’s not me either. You nah wha’ I’m sayin’? And I don’ wanna live my life,” he paused and took a deep breath, “I don’t wanna live my life livin’ in that past. I have a betta’ future now, mo’ than I eva’ thought was possible. Now you know why I’m always smilin’ miss. I’m not stupid; I just got my own def’nition of happy. And I wan’ you to know that I ‘preciate what you doin’ for me here.”

My brave face finally betrayed me. I wiped away a tear from my cheek and laughed, “Yes, now I do know what you’re hidin’ behind that smile of yours now. Now I see. Thank you for that…Now, turn to chapter 11, you’re going to pass this test. We’ll get you back on that court.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he told me, his smile never fading as he picked up his pen.


Filed under Shorts