I follow Writerish Ramblings by Kristi S. Simpson. She gets daily prompts from StoryADay.org and writes these fun stories. And I would like to do the one from today. The prompt is below and my story follows.
Prompt: Visibly Invisible
Today’s prompt is about the inner self of your character trying to break out, to be seen, to be heard, to simply be acknowledged.
Think along the lines of being present in a group, yet you’re being discussed as if you were not there. Now multiply those feelings by 100 for your character who, for reasons you will develop, cannot (at the moment) speak up for themselves.
- Why is your character ‘invisible’?
- You may want to go down the path of personal knowledge, for instance someone with a severe disability which restricts their line of communication. Yet they are ‘in there’ and fully aware of what is going on around them. How do they feel? What can they do to get attention, and help?
- Perhaps you want to go the fantasy route and your character has had a spell put on them. What or who will break it? How does the ‘invisible’ one deal with the situation they are in and what do they do to help themselves?
- Your story should conclude with your character achieving ‘visibility’.
Not too many tips this week – let your imagination, and your emotions run free with this one.
I’m No Trish
“Give it back,” Trish whines prettily. Her long, wavy auburn hair shines in the fluorescent lights of our classroom.
Rex passes her water bottle between his hands considering her out of the corner of his eye. His eyes are the largest and darkest I have ever seen. Lined in dark long lashes. His skin is smooth and light, it reminds me of french vanilla icecream. I want to lick it up. Stretching a crossed high cheekbones, it contrasts with his chestnut hair. The smirk on his lips breaks my heart.
My pulse quickens and my hands feel clammy. I love and hate this class. The assigned seating puts me next to Rex, but between him and Trish. He’s so close and he laughs at my jokes. He lets me lean over his shoulder to look at his work, teaching me how to work through the equations. His hands are graceful as his pencil scribbles out numbers. The forms are scratchy and adorable. I’m so careful not to touch him, but I can smell his cologne.
“I don’t know…” Rex replies to Trish. “I was thinking about giving it back, but my boy here, looks real thirsty.”
I bark out a laugh, hiding the thrill I feel from the phrase, “my boy.” Reaching for the bottle, I pop open the lid. While Trish gasps, Rex staring at her mouth, I down the contents of the bottle. “Thanks, Trish, you’re a lifesaver,” I smirk.