writing prompt 20

[melw]

In honour of the olympics, i want you to write a story with some kind of sport in it.

These words i want you to use.
present
rose
shirt
paint
shelter

Good luck. I don't know what i am going to write yet

MEL

[melw]

The race
Word count 463

Ursula stood with her back straight. She felt the warm breath of Friar’s Rose on her neck. She was probably trying to see if she might have a sweet for him. She patted her head, and tried to relax.

“About ready to go Miss Bremer?” An official asked.

“Yes,” Ursula knew this was the moment. She mounted up on Friar’s Rose and felt her muscles bunching underneath her legs. She knew exactly what she wanted. So many times she depended on her and she never let her down.

“Ursula, please just do you best that is all we ask.” Ursula’s parents gave her smile. She so wanted to win just so she could give her parents this as present for all the sacrifices they had made to get her here.

She thought back to the time she had seen Friar’s Rose. She was an old priest’s horse and being a filly was being sold. It was dark and damp in that old shelter and the foal had regarded Ursula with her big brown eyes. Ursula was in love and said “what’s her name?”

The priest said “Friar’s Rose, what do you think?”

“She’s a beauty. Are you sure you are going to sell her?”

“I don’t need another horse.”

“I’ll buy her. How much is she?” Ursula hoped her parents would think her mad. Her heart dropped when the priest named a price. “I can’t pay that.”

The priest saw the love Ursula had for the little filly. “I needed my house painted. How are you with a brush? You do that and I will consider the debt paid. You continue keeping this stable clean and swept and I will let you keep her here.

Now Ursula was riding in the Olympics. The dressage had gone well and she still had the show jumping to do. Right now it was the gruelling cross country. It was the hardest, but Friar’s Rose always gave the very best.

She was only small, but her heart was big. She had the stamina of a long distance runner and the spirit of her brumby heritage. It was time to go. Time to show the world what her horse was made of.

Ursula straightened her shirt she felt so proud to wear the green and gold. To be able to represent her country. This was one of her proudest moment. It would only be better to be holding a medal in her hand. To win for her country.

Ursula pushed Friar’s Rose and every jump was taken with the courage that Friar’s Rose had. She felt relief when they crossed the finish line. She was only 5 seconds past time. She raised her eyes heavenward and said “thank you God, for Friar’s Rose and our ride.”


MEL

[Decrease]

This is my first submission and so I am a little nervous. Yet, you never grow unless you try.

415 Words

A Parent’s Dream Comes True

Dr. Chertow and his wife had could barely make out the Spanish over the loud speaker. This trip was less glamorous than they expected with lost luggage, trouble with customs and fighting the unusually large crowd in the strange city. Despite the troubles of the last few days, they were overjoyed to see their son’s life long dream finally fulfilled, an appearance in the Olympics.

They reminisced of when Ken was in fourth grade and he asked his parents to join the wrestling team at a local YMCA. Mom was scared he would get hurt but dad paid the $35.00, gave his boy a pair of wrestling shoes as a birthday present, and drove him to his first practice in what used to be a “fallout shelter”. The boy grew and continued to be an average wrestler until one coach came into Ken’s life. They recalled it was his high school coach challenging Ken to become more than good but one of the best. Ken did not disappoint.

Colleges recruited Ken and not even his parents knew where he would attend until they saw him wearing a Nitney Lions T-shirt for breakfast one morning. Girls came and went but most wanted to be more important than wrestling and the others just wanted to be noticed. The smell of a polvatine wrestling mat was more familiar to this family than their own backyard. Sweat, broken bones, bloody noses, and sore muscles were regular occurrences.

They knew this would be Ken’s first and last Olympics and they wanted to make it special for him. Ken, on the other hand, made this a memorable experience for his parents. He showered them with trinkets painted in lively colors from Barcelona and he had delivered to Mrs. Chertow one red rose each morning with her breakfast meal. To him, it was a tribute to his parents for their sacrifices that allowed him to be in Spain.

Dr. Chertow then noticed his son appearing from the locker rooms in his United States Singlet and in full beard. He muttered to himself, “that’s my son, that’s my son.” Ken checked in at the scorers table and made his way to mat #2 but paused long enough to lock eyes with his dad and mom. He watched as his dad’s eyes overflowed with tears and then he turned to meet his opponent. Ken shook hands, the ref blew the whistle, and Ken finally became an Olympian.

[jacks girl]

Ok it's as done as it's getting. LOL! Remember I'm a romance writer not a sports writer. LOL!





The free trip to the Olympics was great. The weather was perfect and Kelly Jackson seen many events. The tennis had been awesome, her favorite, Rafael Nadal won the gold. The crowd went wild and to the point the whole shelter shook.

She was on cloud nine going back to the hotel holding the tennis arm band she'd caught after the match. She headed to the elevator but it was closed, a sign said wet paint. She walked down a hall and found another elevator. As she stepped inside she found a bouquet of flowers. She pushed the 8th floor button and stood looking at the arm band and flowers as the elevator rose.

She held out her shirt and looked at the smiling face of her tennis hero. The shirt was a present from her sister who knew she was crazy about the young man from Spain. "All I'm missing is you Rafael." Kelly looked up in surprise she was still rising and way beyond the 8th floor.

As she reach out to push the 8th floor, the doors opened and in walked Rafael Nadal. He spotted her shirt and smiled.

“I think these are your.” She said holding the flowers out to him.

“Thank you very much.” He said in some broken English. “Would you join me with dinner.”

“Of course, really, I mean yea . . . Yes.”

“Good.” He said with a shy smile.

Kelly wondered if they’d be swamped with people wanting to speak to Nadal, but much to her surprise they stopped in the basement and several men came rushing them into a limo. She was thankful she was dressed as Nadal was . . . casual.

The ride in the Limo was wonderful, and though she and Nadal couldn’t communicate very well they seemed to be getting along fine. The eyes could say a lot without words. Dinner was even better, they were treated like royalty and now and then Nadal had to stop and take a picture but she didn’t mind. He kept giving her that winning smile and it melted her heart.

She met a few other tennis greats and wondered if she was dreaming or not. When dinner was about over and Nadal looked at her with those dreamy brown eyes,,and kissed her hand she knew it wasn’t a dream.

The security detail was there in the background at all times, and just as the evening was coming to a close, Nadal ask one of them to join them. He looked with embarrassment to the man and then began to speak in his native tongue. The man nodded and smiled as Nadal rose from the table.

Kelly started to speak but . . . “Where is he . . .

“He’ll be right back, miss. He wants me to tell you, that he would like to see you again. But he has to get back home for a meeting with his trainer”


”I see. Will he be back?”

“Yes he had to take a phone call,” the man lied, the young tennis star had to go to the restroom. “He’ll be back, say goodnight, then the limo will drop you off at the hotel and take him to the airport. Please write down your address, and phone number and he will contact you.”

“I see.” She said, and she did as he said, but doubted that she’d ever see him again.”

Well the dream couldn't last she thought, as she walked out to the limo and rode to the hotel with Nadal. She was about to turn and step out of the car when he took her by the arm.

She knew he was going to kiss her, and she leaned into the kiss, wishing this would last longer. When they parted he could tell she was sad.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m afraid I won’t see you again.”

“I have number.” He said patting his pocket.

“I know, I’m thinking this is goodbye, that I won’t see you again.”

“No … no,” he said, and a smile came to his lips and he pulled off the gold medal and before she knew it he’d placed it around her neck.

“I see you in two weeks.”

This time when they kissed, she put not only her body into the kiss but her heart too. When she stepped out of the limo, she felt assured she’d see the young man again. The great Olympic symbol around her neck assured her there would be a second date.

[seasalt]

Hey, Decrease, that's good stuff on the spur. Looking forward to you learning the ropes and sharing.

[Tommie Lyn]

My Kind of Sport
Word Count: 494


I'm not into sports. See, I've always been a klutz. My papaw once said about my Aunt Celeste that she could walk through an almost-empty room which had an ironing board in the far corner, and, somehow, she'd manage to get her feet tangled up in it. Unfortunately, whatever branch of the family tree those genes flowed through to reach Aunt Celeste had me dangling from it, too.

All during my childhood, I was the last chosen when we divided into teams to play ball. Or to play any of the other games which required teamwork and cooperation. And a modicum of athletic ability.

“Aw, come on, James! Pick me, pick me!” I pleaded.

He ignored me. “Listen, Charlie. I had the little pipsqueak on my team last time. It's your turn to take her now.”

Even though I realized James had a point in trying to make sure I ended up on the other team, it didn't stop the resentment which rose inside nor the embarrassment which painted my face a bright red when Shirley smirked and stuck her tongue out at me.

Shirley was always one of the first ones chosen. Shirley didn't trip over her own feet when she ran to base or to get the ball. And Shirley didn't close her eyes and cringe when a ball came her way. She stepped right up and caught it.

At last, I gave up on being a part of the group and determined to find something I could enjoy. For a while, I watched others play stickball in the street from the anonymous shelter of my bedroom window, wishing I'd been blessed with athletic ability instead of straight brown hair and a penchant for reading.

But time has a way of passing, and so do childhood problems.

For my sixteenth birthday, Aunt Celeste's present was a blue silk shirt that matched my eyes. It was the most beautiful shirt I'd ever seen.

“Oh, my, Wanda,” she said when I opened the box and held the shirt to my shoulders with a big smile. “Ain't you just the prettiest little thing!”

She smoothed my hair back from my face with a beautifully-manicured hand. “But, honey, we've got to do something with your hair – we can't have you hidin' that pretty face anymore. I'm gonna set you up with an appointment next Saturday with Mr. Jonas. He'll know what do about that hair.”

And, indeed, he did.

Sunday morning, when I walked into my Sunday School class, wearing my new silk shirt and a Mr. Jonas perm that had my hair flowing in silken waves to my shoulder, I thought James' eyes were going to pop right out of his head. And he pushed Shirley over on the bench to make a space for me beside him.

“Come sit here, Wanda,” he said.

“No. Come sit by me,” Charlie said.

And the competition didn't end there.

Finally, a sport I can enjoy.

[jacks girl]

Good stories all way around. Tommie I think your's is cute.

[Tommie Lyn]

Thanks, Jacks. And I agree, good stories, everyone.

[melw]

great everyone. Not at all what i expected Tommie and Jack you used rose in a different way.

MEL

[mhtcowan]

HI all, loved every story, especially the one with the girl who was not athletic. I liked the way you associated what she was doing with a "sport". Very clever.