A Writing Prompt Challenge
My blogging friend Nour and I have decided to have a little writing prompt challenge just for the fun of it. We thought it would be interesting to see the differences between our stories that we’d come up with. I’ll list the details of our prompt below, and after my story I will link to Nour’s post! Thank you Nour, for this fun challenge. 🙂
- Genre: Military
- Character: A Stalker
- Object: A Pencil
- Sentence: “Thanks for nothing”
Bonus: Your character is imprisoned
If anyone else would like to contribute their own story idea using this prompt, I will also link to your post. Anyone is welcome. Just create a ping-back to this page or give a shout out in the comments. Let the fun begin.
Max sat through these military briefings on a near-daily basis. Here, they’d learn about different military operations and skills that could help them on the battlefield. Today’s briefing was unique though. Something must have happened somewhere on the base, because the subject was sexual harassment. It was ironic, because throughout the entire presentation he couldn’t take his eyes off one of his fellow soldiers, Francine. She was a gorgeous, young brunette with a cute face and athletic body. She attentively listened to the presentation as she gently nibbled on the back end of a pencil. This was customary for her and Max was always envious of that pencil. He’d been watching her in this way for quite some time. His interest in her was bordering on obsession.
They were both full-time soldiers and they both lived on base. Francine even lived down the street from Max, he followed her home some days. On occasion they’d even walk together and talk a little, but he idealized her so much that the conversation always came out awkward. He thought she was an angel. Frankly, he found it embarrassing and he didn’t like to feel embarrassed. He was a rough and tough soldier after all, so he preferred to observe her from a distance. At least at a distance nothing could contaminate her perfection and he’d never have to worry about rejection. She always kept that pencil with her too, usually tucked behind her ear when she wasn’t training for military operations. It was all rough at the end from the chewing she did behind those pretty, thin lips. God, he wanted to be that pencil!
Some nights after drinking, either on his own or on base with a few buddies, he would wander past her home and just peek inside the windows to see what she was up to. It started as just a passing gaze and over time, became something a little more perverse. He’d taken a piece of clothing from her laundry line one day, an intimate piece of clothing. She didn’t hang her laundry out to dry again for a while after that and the missing article of clothing disturbed her. He saw nothing wrong with this, he was in love and what’s that old saying?
“All is fair in love and war.”
He needed something that he could touch, but that piece of clothing wasn’t enough. He needed that damned pencil. The thought of his lips where hers had been delighted and intrigued him.
One night, after getting drunk on whisky, he quietly wandered in to her backyard and clambered up a large oak tree. There he waited for half an hour, gazing through her windows until she finally appeared in her bedroom. He watched as she came into the room, took the pencil out from behind her ear and laid it on her dresser. Then she undressed, dawned her pajamas, turned the lights off and went to sleep.
That was it for him. He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed that pencil and tonight was the night that he was going to get it. He climbed down from the tree in the pitch dark and made his way to the back door of her house. He jiggled the knob but it was locked. So he snuck around the side of the house, feeling at the windows as he went. He thought, one of them had to be able to be opened. His drunken stupor made him overconfident in his competence when it came to operations of stealth, and when he finally found a window unlocked, he fell to the floor inside her home as he clamored through.
He wailed from downstairs as he rubbed the back of his head which took a hard smack off the floorboards, but he regained his composure and walked upstairs slowly to her bedroom only to find the door locked. After a moments hesitation, he retreated back downstairs and out the window only to be met in the yard by a number of military police officers. He was handcuffed and thrown in the back of their vehicle still stinking of whisky. He was able to see Francine talk to the officers in the doorway of her home briefly before he was whisked away to prison. Didn’t she know how much he loved her? Didn’t she know how much he’d do for her? He mumbled, “Thanks for nothing…” as he took the short trip to his detention center. She would never understand just how real his feelings were for her now, and it was all because of that damned pencil. Sometimes in his cell, he still lay thinking about how soft those lips must be and how lucky that pencil was. Inscribing her words and embracing her touch. This restraining order will be far too much.
I encourage you to check out Nour’s post here.
Also, Jessica E Larson decided to join in on the challenge, find her here!
P.s. Stalking is not condoned 😛
Thanks for reading! Feeling brave? Make your own version and link it below.