The First of Prompts

Yesterday I asked my readers to supply me with writing prompts. I've gotten several good ones (feel free to add your own if you've not yet had the chance), and look forward to the exercises. I thought I'd get started and, so as not to pick and choose unfairly, I'll just take 'em down the line.

The first was from Barbara, whose prompt was: "You're Never Too Old For Koolaid." And so here we go...



Timmy is nervous, and his tummy won’t stop flip-floppin’ around. It’s because he’s never been to the nursing home before. But Mama said he could come this time, and so here he is, standing outside Grandpa Charlie’s room. 2-0-8, the plastic plaque says.

In one hanging hand Timmy holds Buster, his worn and loved teddy bear; in the other, his Spiderman thermos, full of Kool-Aid.

“Come on, Timmy,” calls Mama from inside the room.

Timmy follows her voice, listening to the quiet squeak squeak his right shoe makes as he crosses the linoleum.

When he sees Grandpa Charlie sitting upright in a rocking chair, looking just like he always has, Timmy feels a grin spread across his face. His feet pick up speed, and before he knows it he’s standing at Grandpa’s side.

“Timothy, my boy!” Grandpa says, reaching for a hug. “I’m so happy you came to see me today!”

Timmy, always shy, returns Grandpa’s hug but says nothing.

“And what do we have here?”

Timmy holds Buster aloft, letting Grandpa get a good look, then drops the thermos into the spotted, arthritic hands.

“Is this what I think it is?” asks Grandpa, a bushy eyebrow raised high.

Timmy nods, a proud look upon his face. “I helped Mama make it.”

“Grape?”

The boy nods again and, when Grandpa can’t grasp the lid between his bent and awkward fingers, Timmy twists the cap open.

“We can share,” says Timmy. He pours some into the lid-turned-cup, careful not to spill, and offers it to Grandpa. “Just like we always do.”