And On The Eighth Day…

…TPTB threw me a curveball. I am agoraphobic and I cringe at the mere thought of going outside. The first part of today’s prompt would have me go out to “a local café, park, or public place” in order to observe something which I would later write about in great detail. Well, that’s not happening. Aside from the blinding panic attack I’m certain to suffer, I’m not creeping people’s lives even if it leads to an entertaining post on this blog. Smile with tongue out

 

Here’s the twist: I am meant to eliminate the adverbs in said writing. Oh joy be unconfined. They have gotten me at last. The TL;DR version of events is this: I went to a toxic elementary school where the majority of teachers and staff spent more time trying to score malicious jokes on some of the students rather than teach us these basics. I was one of those students. The end.

 

That is my preface admitting ignorance of this particular facet of writing. Do with it as you will. Now, I’m going to do this assignment thanks to Google, Wikipedia, Schoolhouse Rock and the best my imagination can come up with. Instead of going out there, I will relate the most recent thing in my memory in great detail. My story involving Melusine Gordon is the most recent thing that comes to mind. Fictional characters don’t mind being spied upon. Rolling on the floor laughing

 

The late September morning’s clouds were blood red contrasted with dark blue patches where the sky showed through. The young woman watched as the upper level winds blew the clouds towards her and over the awakening city of Norfolk, Virginia. The meteorologists on the news had been warning people all week about the possibility of the hurricane hitting but no one really believed it until it took a sudden turn towards the Virginia coastline.  Melusine Gordon cringed as she felt the warm ocean air against her face and thought of the likelihood of the category three storm coming ashore.

Shaking her head, Melusine thought to herself that she had more important things to worry about. She felt the bulge in her stomach with trepidation. Her fears were many. Since she’d become pregnant, the father of her child was nowhere to be found and she had no way to adequately support a growing family.

On top of this, her family rejected her on finding out that she was expecting a child and, try as she might, Melusine couldn’t seem to find a job anywhere she looked, and she did look hard for work. The prospect of going on WIC benefits and then SNAP didn’t appeal to her at all. Yes, they were there for the benefit of herself and her child but the added stigma of collecting benefits while being a walking statistic in the eyes of her community didn’t sit well with her.

That’s where her plan came into play. Melusine had an idea of where the father of her child, Richard, would be and decided to ambush him. She didn’t get pregnant on her own and she refused to raise this kid by herself or without at least some support from the father. Bracing herself against the expected conflict, Melusine walked over to Willoughby Spit and there she found him.

Richard Cromwell was by himself, looking out at the dark churning ocean. His mobile phone was vibrating in his jacket pocket non-stop. On hearing footfalls, he looked up and saw the last person he wanted to see in the world: his last warthog conquest. Richard could guess why Melusine Gordon was following him out to this spot. He’d heard the rumors of her family’s rejection but he didn’t care. It wasn’t his fault she was stupid enough to get knocked up. Even if he were the father, he felt he was too young to be saddled with the responsibility of taking care of some whiny brat for the next eighteen years or more.

One look and Melusine could see a reflection of every thought across his face.

“Ritchie, there’s no easy way to say this-” She began.

“Do you really think I give a damn if you’re pregnant?” He cut her off. “I’m not taking care of your ugly little bastard and that’s an end to it.”

“I didn’t get pregnant by myself and this kid is half you. Don’t you dare lay all the responsibility on me, Richard Cromwell!” Melusine shouted.

She watched, crestfallen, as he mocked her with his laughter before shoving past her and heading back into the city. Sinking to her knees, Melusine began crying just as the first bands of rain from the hurricane reached the shoreline. For one brief moment, she considered walking into the ocean but something inside her kept her from taking such a drastic step. Instead, she stood and stumbled back to her small rented room to think.

 

I think I have done this whole blog post without a single adverb.

 

Later! Rolling on the floor laughingRed heartRainbow

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