I have a book called Complete the Story and it has 150 interesting writing prompts. I recommend it to anyone who often faces writer’s block. I am going to try to do one a day. This is day 17, and prompt #131 in the book. Today, my challenge was to have kind of a twist at the end.
Prompt: I was pretty sure I’d heard him correctly, but I asked him to repeat himself anyway. I didn’t have any siblings. Surely, I would have noticed them when I was growing up. But this man standing in front of me, at my job no less, insisted he was my brother. I pulled off my apron and…
I was pretty sure I’d heard him correctly, but I asked him to repeat himself anyway. I didn’t have any siblings. Surely, I would have noticed them when I was growing up. But this man standing in front of me, at my job no less, insisted he was my brother. I pulled off my apron and looked hard into his endless black eyes. They looked like they were made to be menacing but they were gentle. I saw myself in him, but still refused to accept this fact. As I stared, I heard someone in the line behind him say softly to another, “I think they’re having a ‘moment’!” and a stranger replied loudly, “They’re just holding up the line.”
I shook my head quickly and disappeared into the kitchen. There, I wiped the sweat off my forehead and began to prepare the Apple Wrap (basically a weird cold apple turnover — we had lots of odd copied things there) he’d ordered before informing me of this news. It’s probably a scam, I told myself. He’s trying to trick me. Probably spends his days going about till he finds someone who looks a little like him to trick. I slowly scooped the apples up and deposited them into the dough. Once I finished, I gathered up my courage and walked back, the little pastry on a plate in my trembling hands. He was waiting for me, and he motioned me over to a table. I shook my head, pointed behind me, and mouthed, “I have to work!” He just kept looking at me. I sighed and walked over quickly. “I don’t know who you are or what you want with me, but you need to leave now,” I demanded.
“Please. Just hear me out. My name is Sang.”
“You already told me your name.”
“Then please, just listen to my story,” he said, and he began. And that was how I met your dad.”
“Whoa! So you never knew he existed until you were twenty?” exclaims six-year-old Tyler.
“Yup,” I say. Sang and I smile at each other.
“Wow. You’re a great storyteller, Aunt Mai!” ten-year-old Ca remarks.
“Thank you, Ca. I’ll be back to visit again soon!”
Four-year-old Lucy awwwwws and they all wave as I pull my suitcase out the door, waving back. “Daddy, when is Aunt Mai gonna come back?” Lucy asks eagerly. Sang looks at me, requesting an answer.
“Soon,” I say as he closes the door behind me. “Bye!”
I hear the kids chorus their goodbyes once again (it never stops with them) and I walk down the driveway to my car.