Red Dress Clubbers, scroll down...my story is hiding beneath my sad voting plea :)
Ah, love. Lots has been written about our favorite emotion. It IS our favorite, right? Unless it's gone bad. But that's a different prompt. Or is it. You tell us!
This week's prompt: Write a short first-person story about your first love, or write a short fiction piece about a character's first love.
RESULT: (I struggled with the first person. I'm sure you'll see how disjointed it is.)
I am done with love, Caroline thought. My days thinking that true love is possible are over. Everywhere I look happy couples are holding hands and kissing. They are flaunting their love. It is disgusting. True love, shmoo love.
I grew up thinking that true love was possible, but He changed all that. He who will not be discussed. Well, He who will not be discussed too much anyway. He who deserves a solid and vicious junk punching by passing street thugs. He who...I am still madly in love with...dammit.
I fell for Brady hard. He was so charming and handsome. I had all the fireworks, butterflies and dreams of a big rock on my finger. Turns out Brady was the big rock. And he was dragging me down. He was the laziest moocher I have ever had the displeasure of knowing. Little did I know, he was so much worse than your average moocher.
After wooing me for all he was worth, he took me for all I was worth. And then he disappeared. My bank account was empty and so was my utensil drawer. I couldn't for the life of me figure out why he took my good forks. But 3 months later when I saw a familiar, handsome face on America's Most Wanted being called the Sterling Stud it started to make a little more sense.