So, it's been an interesting year.
I haven't really written for ages and I've had trouble finding my rhythm again. What better way to challenge myself than to write stories from completely random writing prompts. It's not novel length manuscripts, but it's something.
So here goes...
Attempt number one.
Write a 350-word story in the magical realism genre. It's about an envious sister and should include a contract. Also use the sentence 'I can't see you.' Bonus prompt: The Sun is failing.
I couldn't manage to work in the Sun failing this time, but it was only my first attempt, and I did only have 350 words! Next time though. I got 349 words :D It's not edited, so try not to cringe too hard at the uneditedness of it.
Amy can’t believe it. How can this be happening again? It’s like her sister Stacey is ionised to attract only the best of luck. No one gets contracts like this, even in the lucrative world of foot modelling. You’d think her feet were made of actual gold or something—they don’t even have an extra toe. They sit across from each other in a booth at their favourite haunt, Soul Coffee, perusing the employment proposition. Amy tries to be happy for her sister.
“I’m not sure about this, Ames,” Stacey looks up from the paperwork, her brow furrows. “The wording is… odd.” Amy feels conflicted. She envies her sister’s luck, but it’s her indecisiveness that really grates away at Amy’s patience.
Just sign the damn contract. Your feet aren’t going to make you disgustingly rich forever.
“Tough choice, sis.” Amy nods noncommittally before taking another sip from her triple shot latte. “I’m sure you’ll make the right choice. You always seem to land on your feet.”
A grin explodes across Stacey’s face. “I do, don’t I?” She scribbles her name on the dotted line before holding it out to Amy to sign as witness.
“I can’t see you.”
“What do you mean, you can’t see me? I’m right here?” Stacey sounds irritated.
Amy sets her coffee down on the table slowly before firmly rubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands. She blinks slowly several times and stares at the recently vacated chair across from her. This time she speaks slower, without elaborating at all. “I mean, I can’t see you.” And then she tries to explain by holding her hands in front of her face and expanding them out like an explosion. “Because you went poof.”
“That’s not even possible.”
Amy picks up the contract and starts reading through the fine print. “OooOOOooooooooooh. Yeah, it kind of is.”
She holds up the contract to the air where she assumes her sister probably is. “There’s a cloaking clause. For their eyes only.”
An involuntary smirk creeps across Amy’s face.
“That’s why they were offering you so much money.”