Here are my first works for 100_original. They are loosely connected, but you can understand them seperately.
Prompt: 001: Beginnings
Word Count: 153
Summary: The beginning, through the eyes of a child.
She looked on as doctors and nurses rushed by her; tall men and women in white coats and gloves with stethoscopes and clipboards and better things to do than take notice of a freckle-faced child barely taller than a yardstick. She licked her lips in curiosity, standing on her tiptoes and pulling up towards the window. What was this strange item, this foreign creature which had disturbed her regular life? She pulled up higher, groaning and rolling forward onto the toes of her shoes hoping to catch a glimpse.
Two strong hands grabbed her around the waist, lifting her onto a shoulder.
“There’s your little brother,” her father told her fondly, tapping the window.
She pressed her nose to the glass, watching the figures of dozens of crying dolls in glass cases staring back at her, wondering how it was that this toy that resembled so many she already had was so important.
Prompt: 002: Middles
Word Count: 476
Summary: She was alone, except for the stars and the wind and the crickets.
She rearranged her lumpy sleeping bag on the uncomfortable ground, feeling the sticks and rocks poke her back through the cotton and the bottom of the tent. Crickets chirped outside, joined in by a cacophony of woodland creatures scurrying and screeching. She tossed and turned from one side to the other, hearing her younger brother’s snoring fill the tent—another noise to prevent her from achieving any peace. She sighed in resignation, pushing herself to her feet and slipping on her sandals, crawling out of the tent. Maybe the cool night air would give her a bit of peace.
The dry roots and twigs crunched and snapped beneath her feet as she sat down groggily in front of the pile of timber where the fire had been just hours before. In the remote woods the stars seemed so much brighter, sprinkling the black sky like freckles—nothing like the sky over the city where you could only see a few particularly bright constellations when the sky was clear. The moon was gone but for a small sliver, and she couldn’t help but notice in her half-asleep state that it looked like someone had slit the sky with a knife, exposing a streak of the pale surface beneath. It was lovely, in a sad sort of way, she thought.
She’d never particularly cared for the outdoors—the lack of bathrooms, being cooped up with family members in tents, so far from civilization and friends and phones and the mall and everything she loved about living in the twenty-first century.
She hugged one knee to her chest, leaning onto her arms as the crickets chirped their lonely song.
Summer was a time she loved, as a general rule. After all, who wouldn’t love three months of warm weather and no school, with swimming pools open and more time to sleep, malls to be explored and movies to watch, and not having to think about an education? Still, summer was lonely. School meant being constantly surrounded by friends, by people you knew and enjoyed being around. A summer could change a person—it had before. Sometimes going back to school became like meeting everyone all over again.
As her eyes drifted shut, one particular silhouette reflected dimly onto the darkness of her eyelids, and ever fond memory that appeared every night in her dreams. Even the crickets seemed to echo in their melodious murmur the sounds of her misery. She could see his face in vivid colors painted in her mind, could hear the crisp sound of his voice, and yet she was alone except for the stars and the wind and the crickets. She felt her eyelids grow heavier and let out a yawn.
They claim that absence makes the heart grow fonder. She always thought that was a stupid thing for them to say, whoever they were.