Summer Night

Today’s post is based on a writing prompt I shared in a previous Daily Drafts & Dialogues post. Keep reading to see what I wrote, and to access more writing prompts.

What I wrote below is based on the following writing prompt: Today's writing prompt is about writing vivid descriptions. Write a scene that takes place outside on a summer night. 

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The moon was low and bright, illuminating the water by the dock on the far side of the lake, making its surface look choppy, like silent waves were rippling where they didn’t belong. And the roar of frogs resounded in her ears, loud and busy, like it was high noon and not well after midnight. It was impossible for her to ignore all the vibrant life so close by, as she began to evoke its hum the longer that she stood there. 

If it wasn’t for the fading smell of the campfire dying a few yards behind her as everyone else slept, she would have been convinced that it was the middle of the day instead. There was so much energy out there, on that summer night, in the middle of nowhere that was somewhere to her, not far away from former friends who had turned into nothing more than faraway acquaintances over the past several years. Though none of them would be the first to discuss the literal and figurative distance growing between them. But she wouldn’t either.  

Was it possible to miss people who were only a few feet away? 

In reality, she supposed, they were much farther away than that somehow. And had been for quite some time. 

As she stood lakeside gently running her fingers over the top of the switchgrass, inhaling its yeasty aroma, memories of the place before her flooded back. Memories of swimming races and cannonball contests. Ice cream sandwiches and juicy watermelon. Lazy conversations about popular music and athletes and who was best dressed at their respective schools, lame parents and future dream jobs, and the birds and the bees… 

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a twig snap on the ground behind her. She jolted and reflexively turned around. There must have been a lull in the summer sounds swallowing up the space around her, permitting her to hear the twig snap. Or it could have been that she felt his presence before she had heard anything at all, because in truth she had somehow known that he was there before she even saw his face. 

“Hey,” he said demurely, without apologizing for startling her. 

Although time had lapsed and changed the shape of their relationship over the years, it had still remained one of those relationships that never required saying they were sorry. Which is one of the things she cherished most about it. 

“It’s so noisy out here,” she kept talking as if they had already been in the middle of a casual conversation, “almost like our memories are calling out to me, beckoning me somehow, not allowing me to sleep.”

He walked over to where she was standing without saying anything, then grabbed her hand, just like he had always done when they were kids before they jumped into the lake screaming like banshees. 

But this time, they didn’t jump. Instead, he clung to her hand, remaining still and silent. 

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,”he said as his eyes went from skimming the surface of the lake to plunging into the depths of her eyes, “but I’m not sure you’re going to want to hear it. At least, not right now.”

Her heart started pounding, and she wasn’t sure whether to run in the opposite direction to wake everyone up or jump into the lake to see if he’d go in after her. 

But before she could move, or open her mouth to say anything, he …

[Write what happens next and share what you come up with in a subscriber chat thread below.] 

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© All Rights Reserved by K.E. Creighton and Creighton’s Compositions LLC. The above work is a piece of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on experience, all names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Today’s Writing Prompt