Answer Prompt 5

“What? Seriously!” I stare at Jim with wide eyes He nods earnestly, grin breaking across his face. I laugh and smile back at him where he’s sitting on the foot of his bed. Jim laughs too.

“Okay” He smiles again. “Okay I’ll marry you. Today, right now.”

He stands quickly and rushes to me. I wrap my arms around his neck and he lifts my feet from the ground.

“I’m so glad you said yes. I’m going to go see if professor Richmond will perform the ceremony. You find a dress and stuff I’ll get the common room ready.”

“Wait we are getting married in the frat house?” I pull away from his neck. He shrugs.

“No better place, can’t do it outside.”

I smile.

“Okay. I’ll have Matt clean up the cans and the dirty laundry.”

He laughs and kisses me softly. I squeeze the back of his neck. He rushes out the door and I pick up my landline. I dial my own room and Jenny answers.


“Jen” I squeal.

“Rhonda?” She asks.

“Jim and I are getting married. Today, like in a few hours.”

She’s silent.

“Are you serious?” Jen whispers.

“Completely, I want you to be my maid of honor.”

I can hear her smile break across her lips.

“Of course, what do you need?”

I sit on Jim’s bed and rake my hand through my hair.

“You know that white dress Jilly made for that play they did? I think that’s the closest I’m going to get to a wedding dress on this short notice so you wanna grab that and something formal for yourself and come to Beta Phi?”

“Yeah of course! I’ll bring hair products too.”

“Jen, you read my mind.”

I’m in the kitchen, ready to walk down the aisle. I feel like I’m vibrating. Jen peaks through the door.

“Are you ready?”

I nod and she starts to close the door.

“Wait!” I gasp. “Who’s going to walk me down the aisle?”

Jen shrugs.

“Matt?” I bring my hand up to my mouth and chew on the side of my thumb.

“Yeah, sure okay. Bring him here.”

Jen leaves and I shake out my hands. Matt slips through the door and smiles.


I grin and nod. We go through the door and enter the living room. The furniture is pushed aside, making an aisle for the two of us to walk down. Jim is standing at the end, and I burst out in giggles as I spot his mint green suit. He rolls his eyes.

“Shut it Rhonda, this was the best I could manage in five minute notice.”

I laugh, tipping my head backwards.

“That’s your own fault.”

I reach him and Matt helps me take my place. I take Jim’s hand and professor Richmond beings his speech. I zone out, focusing on Jim. I tune back in when Richmond says my name. I repeat my part and we exchange our “I do”s. We lean in and I sigh slightly when our lips meet.

The brothers erupt in cheers and Jim smiles against my mouth. We separate and smile. Jim rushes down the aisle pulling me along. We burst out of the frat and we scream to the air.

Answer: Prompt 4

The smell of burnt coffee fills the room, slathering faces and windows with fog. The woman behind the counter is no longer paying attention to the bread in the toaster, or the boiling water on the stove. She’s staring at the television mounted in the corner.

“Fifteen minutes, scientists say,” The man behind the newsdesk whispers, tears spilling over his cheeks. “Fifteen minutes was all it took for the virus to escape, to infect, to kill, to resurrect.”

I choke on my tea and feel it dribble down my chin. I too am gaping at the TV. Resurrection? Are they serious? The screen fills with the image of a man screaming. The video is a top down view, someone filming from a balcony, of a parking lot. A car is twisted awkwardly in the middle of the two lanes, doors open, woman hanging out of the passenger side, red pouring onto the pavement below her. The man is on the roof of the car, swinging an ice scraper as two people screech and moan, clawing at his feet.

The woman at the counter turns away from the television, hand clasping mouth, as one of the monsters turns away from the man to the dead or dying woman on the ground. I close my eyes as the man atop the car yells frantically for him to leave her be.

The video ends and the anchor is back, his own eyes clenched in horror.

“Law enforcement is calling for everyone to stay where they are. Nobody is to leave, anybody on the street should get indoors quickly.” I glance at the window and people are screaming and rushing forward. A girl is pushing through, bag clutched close to her chest. A man slams into her side and sends her crashing to the ground. She covers the back of her neck and screams. I watch as she is stepped on and kicked. I push myself away from the table and stride towards the door.

I jog through the crowd, elbows flying, chin tucked to chest. I crouch down and grab the girl’s arms. I haul her upright and keep my grip on her bicep. I yank her through the crowd into the coffee shop. The woman at the counter locks the doors behind us and begins lowering the steel bars on the windows.

I let the girl collapse onto the couch against the wall, and help the store owner barricade the windows and doors.

“Is there a way to kill them?” She asks. “Do we know?” I shrug.

“They’ll say something on the news. They can’t get it, not right now. Is there any other way in?” The woman pushes the last table against the window and nods.

“The service entrance, and the trash lift.”

I nod.

“Okay, I’ll barricade the service entrance, go padlock the trash lift and put anything heavy over the door.”

The service door isn’t difficult to barricade, the kitchen appliances lock in place. And soon I’m back in the main part of the shop. I swallow the rest of my lukewarm tea and sit on the stool closest to the couch.

“Are you okay?” I ask quietly. She shrugs and sits up, placing her bag on the seat next to her. I glance at the TV and the news anchor now has a mask on over his mouth.

“So far three law enforcement deaths have been counted and the official citizen death toll is twenty four.”

“Jesus” The shopkeeper whispers as she enters the room, clutching her cross. She hands each of us a knife and we all turn our attention to the TV.

“The infected seem to go down with a solid blow to the head destroying brain matter.”

We turn away from the screen and I sigh.

“Looks like we are gonna be here for a while.” The women nod. “I’m Joan.”

The shop keeper moves behind the counter and pours another cup of the tea I ordered and herself a cup of coffee. “What’s your name?” The woman says nodding at the girl.

“I’m Olivia.”

“It’s nice to meet you Olivia, I’m Maria, would you like some coffee.”

She nods and runs her fingers through her hair. I smile gently at her and she finally turns to face me fully. My heart stops; her green eyes bore into my soul and imprint on my soul. She smiles shakily and accepts the cup of coffee.

We all jump as a trash can crashes in the street.

“Well” Maria says, voice quivering. “Would either of you ladies like some food?”

I shrug.


Maria goes back into the kitchen, leaving Olivia and I to our own devices. I move around the back of the counter and grab a first aid kit.

“Were you hurt earlier?” Olivia shrugs.

“I don’t know.” I kneel on the floor in front of her, my fingers shake as I open the kit.

I hope she thinks I’m afraid of the zombies rather than the truth. She makes me nervous.

“You should take off your coat. You were roughed up pretty good out there, you might be really hurt.”

She nods and takes the coat off. Olivia winces as she stretches; I reach out and lift her shirt gingerly. The side of her torso is magenta, I wince as well.

“I think you broke a rib.” She takes her shirt from my hands and sits up. I take a roll of gauze and start wrapping her ribs.

I tear the gauze away as Maria comes in with some sandwiches. We eat in silence, noise from outside filling the room. Olivia picks slowly at the bread and I offer her a quizzical look. She shrugs.

“I feel a bit nauseous.”

A loud metal clang causes us to jump. I grip the knife by my side. Olivia carefully places the plate on the couch next to her and Maria remains frozen on her stool. There’s another noise, louder this time and I stand carefully, approaching the door that separates us from the kitchen. I press myself to the wall where the door will swing open. Maria clutches her cross and silently prays. Olivia stands and moves Maria behind her. I hear barely there grunts and noises behind the door.

My heart is pounding in my chest as the sounds grow closer. Soon the door slowly swings open. I jam my elbow into the door and it flies back into the body. The person screams and falls to the floor. Olivia rushes over and we brace our weight against the door. I swallow a scream as the body throws itself against the door. Nail rake against the wood.

I let my scream ring in the air when, Olivia’s converse clad shoes slide across the floor. A hand crosses through the thin opening and I stab it. The monster screeches and Olivia pushes back again. Maria moves behind the counter and rummages through the shelves. The monster slams again, growling Olivia glances at me.

“Why did you come outside and get me?” I lean more of my weight against the door.

“What?” I ask, eyes wide, shoulder aching.

“Why did you pick me up off the ground?”

“Is this really a good time to ask?” The door shifts open.

“It’s kind of now or never.” I roll my eyes slightly, and wince.

“I don’t know; you were in danger and nobody was helping, somebody had to.” Olivia purses her lips and I sigh.

“And you are cute and I couldn’t resist being the knight in shining armor.” Maria steps behind us, brandishing a 9mm pistol.

“Ladies, step out of the way.”

I raise my eyebrow and glance at Olivia.

“Well, that would have been a nice thing to list in our assets.” Olivia and I dive to the side. The door flies open and Maria fires three rounds off. A man collapses into the room, brains splattered on the floor. There’s another thump and then a second man collapses on the other.

Olivia gags, and covers her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Well for the record,” She starts after recovering. “I think you’re cute too.”


Wow, this one took a while. Fifth prompt should be tonight. Response tomorrow.

Answer: Prompt 3

The gold is cold against my skin; metal soul above my own heart. I stare at my reflection and bring my fingers up to stroke over the smooth surface. The locket is older than I am, originally my great grandmother’s, before my grandmother’s. The edges are coppery, the yellow sheen of gold dulled with age and the white enamel behind the lush rose is turning brown with age. Though nowhere near its former glory, the necklace is beautiful.

I can hear my grandmother telling me how this necklace won her the love of her life. Her eyes would light up as she spoke of Edward Jean and how they fell in love.

I never knew my grandfather, he died serving in World War II, but my grandmother spoke so often of him I’m sure I could pick him out in a crowd.

I pull it gently between two fingers and in a whirl of noise and emotion I’m transported.

Smoke is the first thing I notice, oppressive smoke and a din of noise. When my eyes adjust I’m no longer in my room, I’m in a bar, sticky and sweet. I press myself into a corner, heart rapidly slamming against my chest. A tall man passes by me, fedora in hand, he smiles and nods his head at me and I swallow the lead in my throat.

“Oh god”

I whisper. The man comes back again and this time he stops in front of me. I bring my hand up to clutch my necklace. He replaces his hat atop his head and unbuttons his suit jacket. He flicks the tails of the jacket back and slips one hand into a pocket.

“You shouldn’t hide such a wonderful piece of jewelry.” He smiles and I feel my fingers nervously twitch.

“Um, thank you.” I whisper.

He leans on the wall adjacent to me and sips at his drink. The man smiles again.

“I’m Edward,” He answers a question I silently asked. “Edward Jean.”

The world grows quiet, sound replaced by intense ringing and blood pulsing through my ears. I swallow heavily. Silently wondering where I am.

“Edward,” I begin. “This is going to seem weird, but what’s the date?”

He smiles slightly tilting his head as if charmed by my weirdness.

“April 5th, 1924, why?”

I slump against the wall. I shake my head slightly not wishing to worry him.

“Forgot my friend’s birthday is all.” He hums and sips his drink again.

He looks so much like my father, tall and lean with wide shoulders. His cheekbones are sharp right at the sides of his face and his eyebrows define his entire face. His nose is like my uncle’s, grandma always said dad had her nose, and it tweaks slightly to the right from his service in World War I.

“Will they be mad you’ve missed the date?” He asks taking a step closer as the noise increases.

I shake my head in awe of the situation.

“I think they’ll understand.” He grins and steps closer again.


I collapse, lucky for the bed at my rear. I gasp, back arching, wind knocked straight from my lungs. I sit up cough, gulping in buckets of air. I violently propel myself forward checking for injury, evidence, anything to decide if this was real. From the pocket of my dress, a sliver of white catches my eye. I remove it and read the faded black script.

Edward Jean: Salesmen and entrepreneur. 123 Common St.

I smile and tuck the card safely away.



This is the link to my reference for Edward’s clothes!

1920’s Fashion for Men

Answer: Daily Prompt 2

Kitchen. I think that’s what this room is called. The weird biped creatures stomp around clanking things together. They walk through this room over to the other, some times furry things bigger than I but shorter than the bipeds. I only see them up close from my perch when they use the magic rain maker.

Water glorious water pours from the spout used for the round things and long thin things. They quench my thirst and tear away my dead leaves. I can hear the call of other, but I cannot see them, only the bipeds.

I do not know any world except this: safe, normal, boring. Is this all there is?

The others have been moved, bipeds claiming the Dining room is too cold for them. Green vines spill over the pot, desperate for escape. They scream, violently insisting I flee, I run, I leave.

Is the escape the true meaning of being a house plant?

Answer: Daily Prompt 1

Dear Emma,

I miss you. It’s been about a year since you left and a month and a half since you last wrote me. I know you are busy saving the world, busy trying to help the planet. My mom asks about you, and so does James, but I don’t know what to tell them. You left so suddenly; you and your family peeling out of London with no warning. I remember so clearly the time I saw you. You showed up at my door step, soaking wet, panting. You kissed me, like it was the last time you ever would, and told me you loved me, over and over again. I begged for an explanation, we were in love I felt you owed me a reason for abandoning me, but you couldn’t tell me. I was so mad at you; I’m still mad at you, but most of all I miss you.

I’m not writing because I miss you, those aren’t letters I’ll send. This isn’t a pity party, and I don’t want you to worry, or cry, or pity me. You deserve to know, after everything that’s happened to us. I have cancer, stage 3 malignant lung cancer. The doctors say I might make it to 2019, probably not. The tumor is unresponsive to chemo, they can’t operate, and they say the disease will spread.

I don’t know if you’ll get this, if you even care anymore, but I’d like to see you again. Before I can’t remember you. It’s more than a little selfish to ask you here just so you can watch me die, but I’m scared. I’m terrified to stop existing. Will I stop existing? Is there anything for me? I can’t stop crying, which everyone says is normal, cancer is apparently a trigger for depression. I’m not very sad though; I’m scared, and I’m lonely. James can’t come around often, her mother is afraid of her catching something.

And I think since I’m dying I have to right to say again that I miss you. I ache for you to be here with me. I can’t bring myself to hate you for what you’ve done. In fact, I still love you. I love you so much and I want you to come home. We promised each other we’d spend the rest of our lives together and well, apparently I’m cashing that check early.

Please come home?