Writing prompt

So, some of you have maybe noticed that I like to do these writing prompts, or flash fiction, at times. Usually when I don’t have enough time to actually write on my WIPs, but having the urge to write something, just to prove to myself that I still can.

Here’s what the prompt to use the words “Soap, yellow, frenzy” in piece of writing got out of me:

Crap! I hissed between my teeth as the paint bucket tipped for the third time off the ladder I was balancing on while painting the ceiling in the kitchen.  I descended in a frenzy and lifted the bucket up to assess the damage. Well, it could’ve been worse. The first time the bucket tipped off the ladder it had made a huge mess, so I didn’t keep that much paint in the bucket anymore.

Of course, I could’ve left this whole painting thing to Jake, my longtime boyfriend, but since he has not picked up on my not so subtle hints of the kitchen needing a new coat of paint, so I decided that if I want it done, sooner rather than never, I’d better do it myself.

I moved the ladder a bit closer to the window and then climbed the steps until I could reach the ceiling. I painted with long strokes and smiled, the difference between the old and the new was as clear as day. The old yellow stained ceiling was now pearl white, nearly shining.

Once I was done, I washed my paintbrush and took the paint bucket out to the garage. Then there was just the not so small task of removing all the newspapers that I had lined the floor with and carrying the table and chairs back into the kitchen.

When the kitchen was done, I was beat. Totally happy with what I had accomplished, but exhausted. I locked myself in the bathroom and took a long hot shower. I scrubbed my hands with soap, the paint stains staying put annoyingly well.

I twisted my hair into a towel that I turned onto my head, and wrapped myself in the fluffy pink bathrobe that Jake gave me for my birthday. The mirror on the wall was steamy, and I smiled as I saw the I heart U Jake had drawn on it during his morning shower. For a big, bearded biker, he was really a hopeless romantic at times.

“Babe?” I heard Jake’s voice.

“I’m in the bathroom,” I hollered and unlocked the door.

“Do you want to go out to eat?” Jake asked as he walked up to me and kissed me gently.

“Sure, why not.” I answered and wrapped my arms around his waist. I hugged him tight and looked him in the eyes.

“What?” Jake met my gaze and smiled, even though confusion could be read on his face.

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

“I missed you too, babe. Why don’t you go get yourself dressed? I’ll go get a coke while I wait.”  Jake disappeared into the kitchen and I held my breath waiting for his reaction to the refreshed kitchen. A minute later Jake came out of the kitchen sipping his coke and I was still standing glued to the spot I stood in when he left.

“What are you waiting for? I’m starving. Go get some clothes on or I’ll take you to town in that bathrobe.”

I picked out and put on clothes in a speed than would have put Wonder Woman to shame. My still damp hair I pulled into a messy bun. I slipped on a pair of loafers and painted my lips red before I headed out to the black Chevy waiting in the driveway.

“Babe? Why are there paint buckets in the garage?” Jake asked as he shut the garage door and locked it.

“I did some painting today.” I answered him sweetly.

“Really? What did you paint?”

“The kitchen ceiling.”

Jake frowned and said. “Really? Alone? You should have left it to me, I would’ve painted it for you.”

I sigh. Men. 

Picture from Pixabay.

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