Sunday, May 30, 2010

** Saturday Centus - Week 4 **

Welcome to the fourth week of Saturday Centus. ** Although this is the 4th Week, this is my first time to participate. **

This is a themed writing meme.

Each Saturday Jenny Matlock will be giving a new "prompt" for the week and you have the entire week to link your work to the meme and you can link more than one story if you like.

Each linked essay must be 100 words or less, not including the "prompt" words. No pictures should be used. No profanity. The prompt words can be used in any place within your story but must be left intact.

Please display link button or just a hyper-link back to Saturday Centus. Be careful to link your SC URL to the Linky and not just link to your main blog.

Jenny would suggest that since these are so short, if you can't think of a title just use your blog name as the title in the Linky.

Jenny also says it would be great if you would try and visit the rest of the links. Actually, it will be fun for you because they were wonderful last week for sure!

WEEK 4 PROMPT
“May I help you, miss? You look puzzled.”
“Mmmm… thank you, I’m just looking for my father. We came in together a moment ago, but he seems to have wandered off.”

This link will be live until next Saturday morning around 7 am. And please, remember to link to your SC URL...not your main blog.

Okay.....here's my attempt at this, coming in at 99 words!

“May I help you, miss? You look puzzled.”

“Mmmm… thank you, I’m just looking for my father. We came in together a moment ago, but he seems to have wandered off.”

Darn that father of mine! How was I supposed to know it wasn't safe taking him anywhere. How did I get myself into this? We'd barely spoken in decades and then, out of nowhere, he wants to come and visit?!

I stroll up and down the aisles, my eyes darting in all directions. As minutes tick by, my anger changes to uneasiness, then to alarm. Where is he?

I hear commotion in the biography and memoir aisle. My heart breaks as I see my father slumped on the floor, grasping my memoir, with pride in his tearful, dying eyes.