25.2.17

Monday's Minute Challenge #1

So, today I'm competing in Monday's Minute Challenge, a prompt challenge for writers to accesss their imaginations with ease and write something amazing... which I intend to acheive. 

 I used the Picture Prompt, the sentence prompt; "It's hard to know you'll never remember me", And I used all the object promptswooden box, doll, essay. I did go a bit over the word count limit, but it's still close! 361 words. All the prompts are in bold, so that they are easy to see. ;)



“I’m scared!” She cried, clinging onto her older sister’s arm. “Please, take me with you! Take me with you!”  The woman stayed silent; breathing heavily. Searching through the cupboards, essays with odd limericks and poetry that the girl had written for school fell from the shelves.  “Please!” She cried once again, growing more and more worried. Adrenaline flooded through Teresa’s body, as time began to slip away.  “There isn’t time…” She whispered to herself, frantically searching. “It’s been a test… a test… a test…” Nothing Teresa said made sense to Lydie. Words slipped from her chapped lips, confusing and different. Teresa’s face expression relaxed slightly as she pulled out a wooden box; it’s obvious age revealed by the cracks and chipped segments; That, or it had a hard life. She tucked it under her arm. “This is what they want…”
“Teresa! I hate the attic, please! I hate it here! It’s dark!” She cried, falling to her knees, holding tight to herdoll. The older girl ignored her completely. Rushing frantically about, doing things that were irregular. She went about the chores like they were crucial for survival, almost like she knew exactly what to do, had this day come when it did. But Lydie was confused and unfamiliar with this routine. As Teresa rushed around, the wooden floor creaked and groaned. She picked up Lydie, who was quite petite and light, and set her by the dusty bed. “Get under here, and don’t move.” Lydie crawled under the bed, tears beading down her dirty cheeks. Teresa walked over to the skylight, where light shone into the dark room. “Lydie,” Teresa added, getting on her knees to whisper to the girl under the bed, “I’ll never forget you. It’s just hard knowing you’ll never remember me.” Teresa locked the attic door, then climbed down the ladder. Cries rang out from downstairs. Lydie’s heart rate accelerated, pinching her eyes shut. Then it happened. The house began to shake for almost ten seconds, before it stopped. She opened her eyes. She was under the bed in an attic. Lydie had no idea where she was, how she’d gotten there, or who she was.