The fifth Daily Dialogue Prompt is: [table="width: 500, class: outer_border, align: center"] [tr] [td]Attending a wedding, you find the bride/groom sobbing and alone in the bathroom.[/td] [/tr] [/table]
Rachel heard sobbing coming from the bathroom. She knocked on the door before opening it. “Hello..” Her greeting trailed off when she saw Phin and Clara sobbing. “My God! What’s wrong?” “Rachel..out!” Phin’s voice cracked. He looked up from the budded rose boutonnier that he was crushing in his hand. Then he quickly turned, embarrassed at being seen crying. “No stay!” Clara begged, from her perch on the closed toilet seat. Her wedding dress was so voluminous it could not be seen and she had the appearance of hovering. She blew her nose on a wad of toilet paper, angrily flicking her head to move the veil which kept swinging around and getting in her way. “What’s going on? Everyone is asking for you.” “Ask her.” “Phin, I’m sorry.” Clara moaned in the way that someone can, only after it’s already been said before and before that. “She’s sorry, hear that, sorry. That’s such an inadequate word. It’s for Hallmark cards with worried, little teddy bears. Sorry, what does that word even mean? Sorrow - I’m sorrowful. Indeed you are. But for who, huh, Claire? I don’t mean me. I’m not so selfish as to - I mean us.” He looked down pulled a petal from the crushed bud. More tears slipped down his cheeks. Rachel didn’t breath. She hoped she’d been forgotten. “I am selfish. I meant me, not us. I don’t want you to be sorry because of us. I want all the remorse for me. For what you did to me.” “I am..baby, you have to believe that.” “Because you say so? Because your word is the truth? Because you want me to trust you?” Clara closed her reddened eyes, more tears slipped out. The mascara wasn’t holding. She looked like a waxwork at first flame, blurred and runny. “Do you hate me?” It came out like a whisper from the grave. “I hate-” He began with a shudder. “-what you did to me. When everyone finds out, it will be so fu- so damn embarrassing.” He flushed censoring himself with a look at Rachel. “They won’t find out.” Clara promised. “They will.” “Babe, It seems so lame to say what I’m going to say. Like I can excuse it or explain it because I can’t. I can’t even say well it happened by accident cause we both know that’s just a cop out. It was because he was - is a part of you.” Phin stiffened. “We were laughing over a glass of wine at his cabin -” “- I don’t want to hear it.” “He was like the future you, the future Phin. The smile, the laugh, everything. It was like I had slipped through some magic portal and there you were Phin, sauve and -” “Shut up.” He looked over at Clara, his look wounded taking the sting out of his words. “The killer is you danced with him today.”
Hey, sorry about killing your parents like that, a bit messy I know but the joke got out of hand, you can understand. Anyway, do you mind stepping out, I gotta pee... bad.
I thought I was being clever and creative by telling a whole story in just one line of dialogue. Well, clever, creative, and lazy.
***There is some vulgar language*** ***And, my bad. I didn't see the new prompts. I probably should have looked down the page.*** Stepping through the door, James' eyes snapped in the direction of his couch. Much to his surprise, another gaze met his and held it for a second. "Who the fuck..." James thought immediately. The man on the couch shifted his weight and turned towards him more. "Can I help you?" James asked. Confusion spread across the man's face as he gripped the back of the sofa tightly. "Um,... Can I help YOU?" the man asked in response. Infuriated, James' look of awe quickly shifted to a look of frustration and anger as his face turned red and the edges of his mouth pointed down. Holding back the urge to physically remove the man from his room, he balled his fists and put his hands to his sides. "Who the hell are you? Why are you in my room?" James began to ask more questions as he fought back the urge to start yelling. "I,.. I live here. Wh,.. who the hell are YOU?" the man in the room said. Shifting uncomfortably on the couch, his face paled slightly as James stared at him angrily. "No you don't! And ya' didn't answer me!" James let his voice become more of a bark. Realizing this, he quieted himself to a growl. "Get out!" The man looked around nervously. The generic room offered him no comfort as he pushed himself back, deeper into the couch. "My name is J-James McKinley. I live here, what do you want?" the man said hurriedly as he began to tear up in fear. He began to shake slightly while his face turned a pasty gray. "No, I--" James cut himself off as he peered into the man's face. "Me?"
EDIT: Totally didn't realize there was a fifth prompt out. I thought the first page one was the most recent. Oh well! Was fun anyways. As I opened the door to my apartment I was greeted by the sounds of the football game blaring on the TV in the other room. I closed the door behind me and walked around the corner to see a dirty-looking hippy drinking a beer on my couch and watching football. "Who the hell are you?" The place stank of pot and beer. The hippy glanced over at me and smiled as if I were his best friend. "Oh hey man! Wondered when you were getting back." "Getting back? What? Who are you?" "Dave. C'mon, grab a beer and sit down." He patted the seat beside him. "No, I am not going to sit down! Get out of my apartment! How did you even get in here?" "I found your key." He dug in his pocket and pulled out a small silver key. It was my spare key, which I thought was well hidden. I stepped forward and reached for it. He handed it back without a fuss and I snatched it from his hands. "How did you find that?" "Oh what's the big fuss? Here," He reached in between the cushions and pulled out a Pringles can. He gave it a shake. The can sounded like it was nearly empty. "I brought Pringles." I took my phone out of my pocket. "Look, buddy. I don't know you. If you don't get out of my apartment right now I'm calling the cops." "Come on, Tom! What are you acting so weird for? You told me to come over and watch the game." "I did no such thing." "Nooo, I'm pretty sure you did. Anyways, I'm here now so why don't we just enjoy the game?" "Get the fuck out." "Aw come on!" I started dialing and he stood up. A multitude of crumbs fell off him and onto my floor. "Fine, fine. Jerk. Last time I party with you." He started to leave, but I laid a hand on his shoulder. "Wait, wait. Party? Al's party?" "Yeah, Al's party. What did you think I meant?" I rubbed my eyes. "Shit! I wondered what happened that night." Dave seemed to perk up again. "What, so I can stay then?" "Look, I may have invited you before, but I don't know you man. Out." Dave grumbled some more, but left, calling out goodbye as I slammed the door in his face. I groaned. "Damn this place is going to reek for days."
As I entered the washroom I could hear the choked sounds of crying coming from one of the stalls. I walked over and knocked. "Pete, you okay?" The sobbing stopped suddenly. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He said between sniffles. "You don't sound fine. Why don't you get out of there and tell me what's up?" There was a pause. The door opened and I stepped back to let him through. His eyes were red and puffy. "What's the matter buddy?" I reached up, rather high up considering the height difference, and patted him on the shoulder. He cleared his throat and wiped the tears from his eyes. "I miss my cat." "What?" "Caesar ran off this morning." I tried not to let my relief show. I was worried he was having second thoughts. "Oh no! Did you go out looking for him?" "We did, but then I was running out of time and I had to get ready, and," He spoke very quickly and I was worried he might just hyperventilate right here so I cut him off. "Alright man, well, how about you get married and then we'll all go out and find Caesar, okay?" He nodded and sniffed. "Okay." I placed a hand on his shoulder and led him over to the sink. "Alright, come on, let's get you cleaned up. Got to get you looking good for the bride to be!" He took a tissue from the counter and wiped his face. "And you said you wouldn't cry." @Selbin I love your little story by the way.
Warning: Harsh Language. "Liz," I said, astonished and quite baffled, "what the hell are you doing in the men's bathroom? And why are you crying?" "I--" "We've been looking everywhere for you. You're supposed to be at the altar!" "I--" "And Jared's absolutely freaking out. I'm pretty sure he's convinced you're dead. In fact, he was so convincing, with all his persistent declarations that you were dead, I was convinced you were dead." "He thought--" "What a convincing guy," I said, moving to where she stood next to the faucet. I began to wash my hands. "I've never seen someone so wild. And here I thought I truly knew him, you know, after being his roommate for five years before he met you." "John." "I remember when you guys went out on your first date." "John." "You had dressed yourself up all nice in that red cut-off, had straightened your hair to perfection. I've always been rather attracted toblondes, but damn, for a brunette, you looked good." I reached for a paper towel and dried my hands. "And Jared, holy christ, Jared spent almost four hours trying to pick the right button-up, running around the apartment like a kid spun on acid. You had him lovesick, for sure. I never thought he'd ever settle on an outfit, until his eyes found the striped-blue shirt, the shirt that bitch made him wear the last time he got married." "Please, just listen to--" "I never understood why he picked that one, why it seemed like such a fine shirt to wear on a date with a new woman. Actually, I never understood why he decided to keep truckin' after what she did to him." I stepped closer to her, eyed her wedding dress for a couple seconds, then looked at her burning face, noticed the huge bags under her eyes, the fresh tears. I took it all into consideration. All of it. "But, he was so happy, so excited that you had said yes. Though there was some serious confusion in the picking out of his clothes, he knew exactly where he wanted to take you that night, exactly what he wanted to do to you. He wanted to make you his. That night," I paused, tilting my head in contemplation for a very long second, "that night, he fell in love with you." Liz gasped, and then I let her sob for a minute. She deserved it. I kept talking. "Christ, I know it was only three years ago, but I remember that moment as if it were my own memory, as if I had been the one that fell in love with you, not him." I inched closer to her, placed my hand on her shoulder, and looked her right in the eye. "You two were meant for each other, I really believe that. Ever since that night, I've never seen him so happy, so at peace. You should see how he looks anytime we talk about you when you're not around. There's always this sort of sick fucking dreaminess in his eyes, like a hopeless romantic born in the wrong time period." "John, I just don't know if I'm ready. I don't know if this is something I can do." "And for as much as that look bothered me...maybe I'm too much of a cynic to believe in true love. But somewhere deep down, I respected the shit out of him for believing in it." I shook my head. "Damn it, I envied him. Especially today. The asshole had truly found it." Her eyes got real big, and I could almost see the same kind of dreaminess Jared's eyes typically contained. Then, the dreaminess winked away. More tears came. A long minute passed, and then she spoke. "Really?" I decided it was best to let the tension ride, pulled my hand back and dropped it to my side. She was such a hot mess. Suddenly, I pictured her without the dress on, and smiled. “Really, now get the fuck back in there before he's convinced I'm dead. I'm pretty sure he can handle me killing you, at least, he seemed cool with what I did to the last chick, but my death might put him over the edge." She ran out of the bathroom.
I opened the chapel's washroom door and saw her. "Oh Selina, don't tell me..." I frowned in disappointment. "You didn't. Did you?" "Go away, I already feel so stupid. Everything is ruined. Just ruined. Go away." "I thought you two were so happy together. I really don't understand. Selina, what can I do?" She looked up from her tucked knees and frowned. "What are you talking about?" "If you want to talk out your feelings. I'm here. Just tell me why you don't want to marry him." She burst into laughter. "Oh my god. You actually thought -" She laughed again, this time into her palm. "No stupid. I'm not canceling the wedding." "Then what's wrong?" "I forgot the photographer." She looked away and rolled her eyes. "Oh." "Yeah. Oh." "Well it's not the end of the world." She glared. "Excuse me?" Hmm, maybe it was better if I just left her alone.
I quietly slipped into the bathroom, looking for a tiny bit of silence from the bustling crowd outside. Instead, I found the soon bride-to-be in a state of complete distress, sobbing into her hands. I bit my lip, considering backing out silently, when she peered up at me with bloodshot eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry, I was just leaving..." I blurted out, turning away to walk out the door. Only a few steps and I would be out- "No! Wait!" She pleaded, and I silently cursed. Slowly, I found myself turning around. An awkward silence soon ensued, and I couldn't stand it. "Are you, er, alright?" She took a deep intake of breath, smoothing out her dress. "No," She muttered, shaking her head. "Everything's ruined! Absolutely ruined!" I shuffled nervously on the spot, unknowing of how to act. "What do you mean?" I lamely replied, scratching my neck and faking a look of concern. "My dress! How can you not see?" She screamed, holding up part of the gown. I squinted, leaning in to get a better view. "What?" "There, right there!" She pointed a long, pale finger to a small dot on the tip of the dress. "That's...It?" I blurted out before thinking. So much fuss for such a little thing... "What do you mean, 'that's it?'," She cried, bunching her hands into fists. "I have a stain on my dress! I can't get married like this!" She shouted, pushing her face into her hands again. I shuffled again, heading into unfamiliar waters. How were you supposed to comfort someone? "I'm sorry" I replied nervously, really wishing I was somewhere else right now. She sniffled, wiping her face and smearing mascara all over. "It's not your fault" She sighed. "I don't know if this'll make you feel better, but around 154,889 people die everyday around the world, so you have it pretty good at the moment" I tried, fidgeting with my dress. "You're right," She began, getting up. "That doesn't make me feel better at all."
"Hey- hey! Why are you crying, doll?" A glimmer of a smile breaks through the misery, but goes out, washed away by more tears. "I don't love him." "Well, honey that's obvious! But, why are you crying?" I've never seen a more shocked face. The tears froze in her eyes like glass. "W-what?" I squatted down and tried to turn the charm up to eleven. Don't know how successful I was, but she didn't pull away when I took her white gloved hand. "Let me guess. He's rich, he's smart, his family's loved by the community. Your folks are thrilled. You're so miserable you can't stand to look at yourself because as great as he acts, he's just a misogynist creep that treats you like his personal slave girl." More tears welling up; her face is full of so much hatred and misery that I reposition myself right in front of her so she doesn't jump up and throw herself out the second story window. "I'll take that as a yes. Good. Then you, my gorgeous goddess, are in a very lucky position. Hell, I wish I was pretty enough to pull that kind of luck." I love that slow dissolve of emotion: sadness to confusion to anger to bewilderment. "W-" "Listen, and quick 'cause you only got about three minutes to make sure all your dreams come true. You walk out that bathroom door and you smile. Fill those pretty eyes full of love and devotion. Choke up when you say your vows (shouldn't be hard, right?). Then, give him the kind of honeymoon that would make a man's eyes roll out of his head. Rub his disgusting feet, role-play, whatever. For the next couple a months, you make him the happiest man in the world. And make sure YOU cook all his meals. Mix all his drinks. Draw all his baths. Make damn sure you are the number one beneficiary in everything. Then you call me," I pull down her glove, revealing a lovely, slender wrist. I write my private number there, "I've got something they can't detect and I've got plenty of it. Start small, just a little dusted over his eggs, a quarter teaspoon in his scotch on the rocks. I guarantee you that this time next year, you will be a wealthy, grieving widow." Moment of truth. Will she run away in disgust? Fear? Will she call the cops? What feels like a century passes, each of us lost in the other's eyes. Then, she dabs at her eyes and smiles. I stand, help her feet. I watch while she fixes her make-up. She walks straight up now, proud and beautiful. Finally, she turns to me and curtsies like a princess. When she looks at me again, there's a light in her eyes; a captivating, wicked light. She asks a single question before she leaves. "So, where will you be this time next year?" I wink. "Oh, you know. Prolly sittin' by the phone, lonely and alone." She smiles back. My breath is taken by it. She leaves. I start thinking I should brush up on my knowledge of non-extradition countries. And my tan.
The sixth Daily Dialogue Prompt is: [table="width: 500, class: outer_border, align: center"] [tr] [td]You're riding in the subway when an elderly man sits across from you. Staring directly at you, he leans forward and says quietly, "You're not going to make it."[/td] [/tr] [/table]
‘You’re not going to make it,’ he says, because he’s another subway hero. I say, ‘You just watch me, Popeye.’ ‘Put down the child.’ He has the cloudy eyes, but he’s looking through my mind. ‘Mommy,’ says the kid, she's wriggling. I grip the arm, squeeze it tight. There’s folks down the carriage. I say, ‘You don’t seem to know who you’re dealing with, old-timer.’ ‘They call you the snatcher.’ ‘Well I guess they do,’ and I show him all my teeth.
I figured I should get this back up and running again! The seventh Daily Dialogue Prompt is: Eight year-old Hannah comes home from the pet store with Reggie, her new hampster. After she sets up his cage, the family goes out for dinner. Reggie is settling into his new home when he gets a visit from a rat that lives in the building.
Fumbling with my keys I finally got the door unlocked. Dropping my heavy bookbag onto the floor I walked into the living room and stopped dead in my tracks. "Who the hell are you?" I asked, both shocked and somewhat titillated. A handsome stranger was lounging on my couch. He had a rather arrogant face framed by jet black hair that looked at me with decidedly wicked green eyes. "Clint," he smiled like the cat who got the cream, then stretched with a seductive curve of his spine. He had a great body and knew it. "Clint, if that's your name, get your ass out of here before I call the cops." I was bluffing and he knew it. I noticed that his skin was very pale and that he dressed all in black with a metro-european look that suited the languidity of his movements. "I don't think that's going to happen" The hairs on the back of my neck began to bristle and I could feel the onset of a particularly nasty bout of berserker begin to squirm within the bowels of my belly. Right then I knew who had sent him. "One of Lilith's little minions," I sneered, "She always did have an eye for pretty boy lay-abouts." Frowning he sat up. There was a disagreeable petulance to his mouth that detracted from his good looks. "Lilith said you were a bitch." I smiled. I was a hell of a lot worse than a bitch.
