Three Writing Prompts

 The morning after…

The morning after Dianne took me out for my 20th birthday, I woke up on her hard wooden dorm room floor to January sunlight flooding through the high arched glass into my newly 20 year old face. Hungover, 20, deliriously happy, knowing already I would remember that crystal blue sky, knowing I was young, knowing more giggling nights in bars lay ahead, and more lit blue mornings like this one, so unlike and so far from the agony of 19.

Speculative Non-fiction

In my mind I now have a third child. A boy. Spencer? No, Jasper. JASPER. The children in The Five Little Peppers and How They Grew called their friend "Jappy" for short, but our better nickname for our precious little limp guy will be…Jaspy. An apt description from an antique name, as he rasps out our names from his contorted tiny throat, with lisping piping melodic tweets, as he calls us to his side. 

"What's up, little Jaspy? What's up, little guy?" asks my Mia, my little mother, my careloving oldest, her hands at the ready.

He crows at her, his eyes shining.

"Hi Jaspy!" calls Nora, ready for play. She tosses him a soft ball, knowing he will delight in its color arcing across his vision, knowing he will watch it rise and fall, knowing he will be content with only this, and loving him for all he is, just as he is, lying here before us in his big boy crib.

The Interrogative Mood

First of all, WHAT the hell? Second of all, WHAT the bloody hell? WHY? (Or don't I actually, truthfully, know why?) 

Alright then, why NOW? (Don't I kind of know the answer to that one too?)

Okay, then, WHAT were you thinking? (Although I kind of know what you were thinking,) WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?

How about HOW? HOW ON EARTH did you think that was a good idea?

How about when? WHEN did you get the idea that that was a good idea? After your third cocktail? After your fifth beer? After you got your dose of liquid courage and lost your dose of better judgment?

How about WHO? As in WHO do you think you are?! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?

And how can we forget about WHERE? WHERE DO YOU GET OFF? Where is your mind? Your conscience? Your memory of us and the way we were?