Writing Prompt: Day 99

99.jpgDay 99 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about the significance of a ring.

Erin: “I need that ring,” I started shaking as I yelled at my friend.

“It’s just a piece of jewelry,” she complained being completely insensitive.

“No, it’s more than that,” I corrected.

“What do you mean it’s more than that?”

“My grandmother left me that ring. It’s all I have of her,” a tear dropped from my eye.

“I didn’t know,” she sighed. “We’ll find it,” she started shaking around the sand next to our towels.

“It’s probably in the ocean,” I whined plopping down onto the towel.

“Maybe, but maybe not. We won’t know until we try.” She continued to scrounge around the sand. “But also, if we don’t, it’s not all you have of her. I knew your nana. You have her fire in yourself. You’ll never lose that.”

“Yeah,” I questioned more than agreed.

“Yes, so prove it and let’s find this dang ring you claim to care about so much,” she nearly screamed.

She was right, what would Gram think of me if I gave up so easily?

Shannon: “I should take it off, shouldn’t I,” I asked Molly as I twisted the rose gold arrow ring around my finger. I liked fidgeting with it whenever I was nervous. I found it comforting. What would calm me if my hand was completely bare?

She looked at my finger. “I don’t know. It’s complicated. Maybe you could move it to a different finger. Show Dave that your ready to move on.”

“I don’t if that’s enough for him or me. If I put it on my other hand or a different finger it’s a division, and I don’t want him to feel like I’m dividing my love. It’s his now. He doesn’t say anything, but I think this is what he’s been waiting for.”

“If it makes you feel better you can take it off, but don’t do it because you think you have to. You used to say it kept him alive. If that’s what it means to you, if it holds his memory, you can still wear it,” she tried to convince me to change my mind.

His name was Eric and we both grew up with him. He was our friend, and in high school he became my boyfriend. He died in a crash a year after we started dating. It felt like I lost a piece of me, and the only thing I had left of him was some pictures and the ring he gave me for my birthday. Since that day, I’d managed to never take it off. Like a security blanket, as long as I had the ring on it felt like his ghost was watching over me.

I closed my eyes and reconsidered. Was I actually ready? I breathed in and out, and felt my hand easing the ring off my finger until it was no longer connected to me. He deserved to be free too.

“How do you feel,” Molly questioned.

I pressed my lips together then opened my eyes. “Scared,” I answered honestly.

Make an object more than an object.

2 thoughts on “Writing Prompt: Day 99

  1. The simple band spun around her skeletal finger, glinting in the brilliant candlelight, as she fidgeted with it. As she trembled, letting the soft sleeves of her sweater fall about her like a child in her parents’ clothing, she watched the fluffy ashes fall from his cigarette. They floated before her eyes on an unseen breeze and fell to the Persian carpet, joining the growing pile of freshly smoked and ancient fragments in the fine threads. Without glancing at his face, she watched as the smoke rushed past in a hurry to get nowhere and any glimmer of hope she’d held onto faltered like her faith that there was goodness in the world.
    “Well?” he grumbled, impatiently taking a drag from the cigarette and blowing neat, little smoke circles to his own amusement. When he finally turned back to her, the crow’s feet that had tugged at his sagging eyes straightened out in a harsh expression of discontent. His eyebrow lifted as he repeated, “Well, young lady? What’s it gonna be?” A smile pulled at the edge of his lip was impish, but the mercilessly hard version.
    Clearing her raspy throat, the girl leaned forward carefully on the rocking chair, gripping the rough armrests so tightly her bare knuckles were a shade lighter than her sallow skin and the freezing metal clattered on the unfinished wood. “Well, mis-” she began before a horrible coughing fit wracked her thin body and she clutched feverishly at her chest. After a moment, she carefully wiped her bloody lips on a handkerchief and stiffened. Rolling her shoulders and taking a deep breath, she started again, “Well, mister, I have a tale you will love to hear about this ring. It was my mother’s and she received it from a duchess along with the story behind every scratch and scrape.” With her short introduction finished, she closed her eyes as shivers rippled through her body; she let them go for a moment, before reaching for the handmade rocking chair again.
    Having watched his prey with careful eyes, the man didn’t give away a single thought as he continued to smoke for a while longer. He eyed her bare feet that tapped nervously on the warm wooden floorboards, frostbite nibbling at her slight toes. There was something so scrumptious about a desperate client that reminded him of when he needed to stalk his victim for weeks and feed on the slightest tidbit of story he could find.
    When he went to take another puff, he was surprised to find the cigarette had gone out, and discarded it on the mantelpiece beside the empty ashtray. Words chased each other about his head like cats and dogs before he settled on a few meaty ones, “Alright. What do you want for the tale of this trinket?” The sparkle in his eye was there to hide the true malice; he would rather watch this creature suffer than hear a stale story about a tiny piece of metal.
    Her thin face lit up with his question, as though he’d already saved her. A grin that reached from ear to ear was paired with happy rosy colour returning to her ashen cheeks to touch the old man’s heart. “Well, I’m ill. I need to be better or I won’t-” tears sprung to her deep-set eyes as she spoke. After a few attempts at swallowing, she managed to clear the sudden block, though her voice was an octave higher, “-I won’t last the week. Please, you’re my last hope.” If she could have made it to her knees, she would have begged.
    “Alright, fine. I will heal you in exchange for this ring’s story.” He sighed, glancing at the joy this news brought his client. “I sure hope it’s a good one,” he added, closing his eyes to grant her wish to be healthy.
    Nodding to herself, she babbled, “Oh, the things this ring has seen, sir, will make this worth your while, I promise you.”


  2. Created to Write:
    August takes Heather’s hand in his, “Heather, I don’t want to be without you. I don’t ever want to forget, and the time I was away, it proves that I can.” Heather looks up from their hands. “And it hurts, knowing that’s possible. But… I can tell that we were created to be together. I know you aren’t ready yet,” he scoffs at himself, “neither am I, but I want to renew something…”
    He holds up his other hand, with a small box sitting in it.
    “A promise.”
    Heather takes the box and opens it up. Inside is a ring, with little green and brown rhinestones along the top.
    “This is a promise ring, Heather. Because I know I want to marry you someday. And when we are ready for that…” August puts his forehead to hers and whispers, “I’ll get an engagement ring to replace it.”
    Heather takes the ring out of the box and puts it on her empty finger. “Thank you.”
    August smirks, “Hey, you’re hand looked bare without a ring there.” Heather laughs, then leans in to kiss her boyfriend.
    “If I lose you again, I’m coming after you,” Heather promises.
    “Isn’t that how we got into this mess? Me looking for you?” August jokes.
    “Then stay where you are until I find you,” Heather decides, “and don’t go portal jumping. It’s not fun.”


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