He circled the girl as a shark would circle its prey, his eyes alert for any imperfection on her. He turned her face this way and that, straightened her shoulders and felt her skin to check the flaws of his new aspirant. Then he stepped back, stood with one toe pointing forward, one hand resting on a hip that was tilted just so, and studied her some more.
“Beautiful, just bee-yooo-tiful!” he exclaimed, his sculptured chin pushing against the tip of his index finger.
Her mother beamed with pride.
“... just let this hair loose, and these two buttons go....” He said as his hands exposed more of her young bosom. The girl blushed but stifled a gasp upon seeing the look that her mother gave her.
“You got a beautiful body. Show it off.”
“Isn't it embarrassing?”
Her mother shook her head at her.
“Hija, in this business, scruples get you nowhere. The less clothes you have, the more attention you get.”
“You're 18?”
“16, sir.”
“Now you're 18.” His bangles jingled as he waved his hand in the air.
“Your name...”
“Tetet, ah, Teresa, sir'.
“...is sooo provincial. Mmmmm... Nadia...Tanya,... Zoraya. You are Zoraya! ...sophisticated, exotic, and ... hot.”
Her mother nodded her approval.
“ZORAYA: HOT YOUNG STAR - Rich Politician's Mistress?” He ran his palms across an imaginary banner before him.
“I'm not a mistress!” protested the girl.
“It's Pub.li.ci.ty. You've to be known.” He said with arched brows.
“Mommy?”
“MOTHER!” He glared at the nervous mother in exasperation.
Mother, afraid of losing this one chance, dragged her daughter to a not-so-private corner of the office.
He sat on the edge of his table, fanned himself and pretended not to hear the hushed tones of the mother -
“.... there'll be no more cheap clothes for us....you, Teresa. You'll have a car, a house, genuine bags....”
For your prompt this week, we are giving you the first 33 words of a story. You need to complete it with 33 of your own words. “There’s nothing cute about it,” he said. The register of his voice indicated decision more so than discussion.
She disagreed heartily and privately, staring past his head and out the window behind him.
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PRECIOUS
“There’s nothing cute about it,” he said. The register of his voice indicated decision more so than discussion.
She disagreed heartily and privately, staring past his head and out the window behind him.
“He's a fine young man.” His wife said.
“Not when he's with my daughter.”
“She's already 21.”
“She's my little one.”
“No no. Just stay where you are.”
This is my response to this Bloggy Mom's Writers' Workshop Challenge -
A strange envelope arrives in the mail. It is yellow, unmarked, and sealed with tape. What's in it? Where did it come from? Will you open it? What happens next? Answer all of these questions in 1,000 words or less.
Like a student cramming for an exam or a project, I am submitting my assignment at the last minute, well, make it last hour and a half. I would have loved to use up more words, but I was afraid that they would only ruin what I perceive to be a semi-logical story line. Besides, the fewer the words, the fewer the mistakes. Anyway, here is my story....
“At last we found you. Just in time. We have always searched for you....” The pen formed the words to finish the letter. When it was done, it was carefully placed in an envelop and sealed.
As usual, Gen stopped by her mailbox on her way in from work. She was rather surprised when she felt a lumpy envelop that was shoved deeply into the box. Her anticipation turned to curiosity upon seeing an unmarked thick Manila envelop that was thoroughly covered with tape. With this much tape, this better have the crown jewels, no less. She felt the envelop. Oh, just documents. She said in mock disappointment. After some hesitation, she brought it in and went straight to her little kitchen to get a knife. She sliced the top of the envelop and dumped its contents – pictures, letters, many of which had already faded. She picked up the folded paper that was on top of the pile. Unfolding the page, she read -
“We searched everywhere for you. Our hearts broke as often as we received news that our leads had been false. Somehow, you and the babysitter that used to watch you just vanished. Then one day, we we saw you dance in that TV show and the camera panned on the woman you call mother, your babysitter ....”
There must be a mistake. Dear Sarah... Argh! I just opened somebody's mail?! She grumbled after she checked the addressee's name. She was about to put back the contents when her eyes fell on the pictures. She thought that there was something oddly familiar about the dark haired young mother carrying a child on her lap, or the smiling gentleman beside her, or the laughing brown-eyed young girl in another picture, or the baby in her studio portrait. The baby..... Her heart trembled at the thought. She went to the living room and retrieved an album from the shelf. Slumping on the floor, she thumbed through until she found some pictures and compared photos. No, it can't be! Her mind protested.
With shaking hands, she reached for the phone – “Mom?”
Soon Gen was at her mother's kitchen table where she spread out the documents she got. Her mother was silent as she stared at them. Taking a deep breath, she said “I am sorry, Sarah.”
Gen froze at her mother's words. The world she knew just crumbled. She stared at her mother as the latter ran her hand through her once blond hair, but did not see. Neither did Gen hear her say “I could not have a child of my own....” or whatever story she had for taking little Sarah away from her family. She also did not notice when her mother tucked a dark strand of hair behind her ears or gathered her in her arms or brushed away her tears. She braced herself on the table when she stood. Somehow, she managed to gather the papers and stuff them in her bag, before she walked out of the door and got to her car. She did not say good-bye. She drove her car, her reflexes navigating for her.
She went straight to her bedroom. There she let herself cry and scream and wail, her body spewing out the vileness of deceit and betrayal that have been forced upon her. As though to console herself, she read the letter once more -
“... I love you so much. We'll be glad to have you back in our old house. I will try to see you when I can....”
Gen fell asleep with the letter still clutched on her hands.
Here is my entry to the Trifecta Weekend Challenge. I dare join the ranks of those who have posted great responses to the prompt -
For your prompt this week, we are giving you the first 33 words of a story. You need to complete it with 33 of your own words. “There’s nothing cute about it,” he said. The register of his voice indicated decision more so than discussion.
She disagreed heartily and privately, staring past his head and out the window behind him."
Thank you for visiting. Head over to Trifecta for great posts, after you have read this one, I hope. ;-) Choose your favorites and vote.
Best regards,
Imelda
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IF ONLY
“There’s nothing cute about it,” he said. The register of his voice indicated decision more so than discussion.
She disagreed heartily and privately, staring past his head and out the window behind him.
“As it is, My Prince, it's our only means of escape right NOW. But if you've any other idea, I will not cut my hair....” Rapunzel's words, however, fell on deaf ears.
Peace of soul comes to those with the right kind of anxiety about attaining perfect happiness, which is God. A soul has anxiety because it final and eternal state is not yet decided, it is still and always at the crossroads of life. This fundamental anxiety cannot be cured by a surrender to passions and instincts; the basic cause of our anxiety is a restlessness within time that comes because we are made for eternity.
If there were anywhere on earth a resting place other than God, we may be very sure that the human soul in its long history would have found it before this. ~ Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen
This is my response to - 
I would have loved to use up more words, but I was afraid that they would only ruin what I perceive to be a semi-logical story line. Besides, the fewer the words, the fewer the mistakes. 
Anyway, here is my story....
