Writing Prompt of the Week: July 3-9 (Non-Speculative “No Fantasy” Fiction)

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Welcome to the 55th Writing Prompt of the Week!


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No-Fantasy Fiction

These prompts are grounded very thoroughly in reality. No magic, no science fiction, no fantasy creatures or worlds should be in submissions for these prompts. Stories can be modern or historical, maybe even slightly futuristic, but they must be based on reality and on earth as we know (or knew) it to be.

This Week’s Prompt

You are going to a concert with your friends and while dancing to the music, you accidentally hit someone in the face.

Oh, God! I’m so late!

Sarah and I have been waiting for this concert for a whole year. We booked everything with large advance, starting from the tickets for the event itself, to the plane and hotel. We were sure this would be a memorable night.

Well, it is, but not for the reason I expected. As we jam to the amazing riffs and harmonizations, we try to imagine how incredible it would be if we were closer to the stage. Too bad we didn’t think of it earlier.

We jump up and down to the rhythm, when I notice someone is retracting. I think I’ve just hit someone in the face while waving. I stop and try to help them, only to be pushed away. Sarah shrugs. She’s too immersed in the music to care, anyway.

I don’t think I can enjoy the gig anymore. That incident still bugs me. I follow the rhythm, but not with the same energy as before. The only thing that saves me from a mental breakdown right now is Brittany Harter’s live vocals. That woman is a stage genius, period.

When the concert is over, much to my relief, Sarah and I follow the crowd out of the venue. We take slow steps, thinking of how long it will disperse and when we’ll be able to reach our hotel. By the time we pass the gate, however, we’re in for an unpleasant surprise.

A woman, perhaps in her thirties, awaits us, her hands on her hips, her lips curled in disapproval and a deadly glare on her face. Can’t she just move? What does she want from us?

“Hey, you. Yes, I’m talking about you!” She points the finger at me, annoying me. I don’t know her and don’t care about her tantrum. Whatever her intentions are, if she thinks she can make a scene and get me in trouble, she’s wrong.

“You hit me in the face! You’ve got to compensate me!” What is this nonsense? Who does she think she is?

Sarah lets out a yawn and attempts to leave on the spot, but the other woman blocks her path. “No, no, no. You won’t go until you pay me a hundred thousand bucks on the spot, okay? Pay, or we’ll see each other in court.”

This little bitch doesn’t need money, she needs to learn manners. I’m not giving her a single penny. This time, I elbow her. Intentionally. “Fuck off, brat!”