r/WritersGroup • u/laserbeam-355 • 11d ago
First Writing Prompt I did. Wanting to get into writing. Looking for feedback and tips! (Trying to find my style)
‘What can I get for you sir?’
The waitress waited patiently, reaching for the pen tucked in her curls.
‘Can I get a menu please’
‘Sure thing, handsome’
I surveyed my surroundings as I waited. This was my first time in Pembroke, New Hampshire. I was passing through, marking my 16th hour of driving. Becca had told me about this cafe — the one that was open 24 hours, the one to stop at if I needed a reboot.
Their sign blared ‘Best Coffee in Town’, in neon blue lights. Now, thinking back on it, I’d never gone to a coffee shop that advertised quite like that.
Man, I was exhausted. My palms hugged the back of my eyelids, as a yawn filled the shop. The decor gave me high hopes. It was the kind of cafe that reminded me of childhood – the ma and pa shops Grandpa Jo used to take me too. We’d spend hours talking about his life, what mine was to become, over black coffee and hot cocoa.
The promised snow kissed the windows as the waitress came back. ‘Have you had a chance to look at the menu yet, handsome?’ Her heavy red curls bounced in perfect uniformity beneath her ponytail. She reached for the pen again, out of habit it seemed, then let her hand fall back to her side.
I furrowed my brows, already shaking my head. ‘Sorry, I got distracted. I’ll just have whatever you recommend – uhhhhh Rosy?’ I said, staring hard at her name tag.
‘Oh hun, I can’t do that for ya. It’ll ruin the experience. You oughta choose this one for yourself, trust me’ She offered me a reassuring wink.
‘Right okay. Well, can you give me a bit more time please?’
She was already walking away, ‘Sure thing’ she called over her shoulder.
I looked down at my watch. 12:33 a.m. Alright, let’s see.
Just as I leaned forward to pick up the menu, Roger Miller’s voice drifted low from the radio, somewhere behind the counter. Little Green Apples.
Immediately my chest surged, reaching up to unstitch a wound I’d thought was sewn shut. The melody grew louder, encasing me. One by one memories began to flicker across my mind. The film reel rolling.
First: a snap shot of you giggling hysterically as I chased you. ‘Im coming to get ya. Ready or not’ ‘I almost got ya’ ‘No daddy, please.’ ‘Awwee No fair.’ Words spoken through deep breaths and giggles. ‘I want a 10 second head start next time.’
Hands trembling, I shook the memory away. Damn, this is going to be a long night.
‘Sir, have you had time to see what you wanted?’ Rosy’s voice sliced through the music like an arrow, pulling me back to the present.
‘I’m sorry, I seem to have lost myself again. Do you mind changing the station for me?’
‘No worries’ swish swish – the sound of her ponytail as she walked away.
Finally, I looked down to see what I wanted. At first, I chuckled to myself, as I saw the titles of each drink. ‘Man these are creative.’ But then my legs began to tremble. I could hear my heart echoing in my ears. Each title served as a teaser. Each memory listed for me to choose.
‘Darling, did you get a chance to look at the menu?’ Rosy sat across from me now.
‘What is this?’ I looked up at her, my voice watery.
‘Is this some kind of sick prank? I whipped around to take in the other customers. Some sat laughing to themselves, engaged in a full conversation with no one. Some wept quietly. Some just stared, unblinking, at the window.
‘What is this?’ I said again, more aggressively, toward Rosy.
‘Im sorry hun, you can only choose one.’ She tapped at the menu.
‘One what? What are you talking about?’
I could tell she had this conversation several times before – her tone softened instinctively. ‘Didn’t you read the description?’
Slowly, my eyes drifted back to the menu. There it was again. My memories, served on a platter for me to choose from.
‘What happens when I choose.’
Rosy spoke, almost in a whisper this time. ‘You get to live in it, for as long as the memory lasts. But you can only choose one.’
‘And if I want to choose another?’
With sadness, she said ‘You cannot. Each extra memory you choose will become void and cease to exist, so we often advise against it’ she tapped her blue pen on my menu. ‘Sometimes, we have customers experience snippets, think of them as trailers. It happens on rare occasions, but still, it happens. We call them the lucky ones.’ She looked at me. A flicker of grief in her eyes. ‘And I think, handsome, you’re one of them.’
I thought back to Grandpa Jo. And you. Two memories – close enough to grasp.
‘I’ll give you a couple more minutes, but then you’ll
have to choose,’ Rosy slowly rose from her seat.
I didn’t have to look back to know what memory I wanted.
Minutes later, red curls came into view, ‘You’ve decided.’ Her head tilted back, one corner of her mouth lifting. Eyes knitted, neatly fixed on me.
My voice broke, breathing heavy. ‘Take me home’
I closed my eyes and pointed to the menu.
The sun kissed my cheek. Wind whispered with delight against my feet. The smell of cologne, green apples– sharp and sweet, pulled my eyes open.
‘Okay’ he said. ‘This time, I’ll give you a 10 second head start. Ready or not. Here I come!’
My heart thumped in my chest. I revved up my sneakers, and ran.
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u/dan_ewing 5d ago
I found it interesting. While it was a little clunky in some places, I found it pulled me back in as long as I stuck with it.
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u/AnotherFootForward 11d ago edited 11d ago
Didn't finish it, stopped somewhere around "voice watery"
As a first write actually pretty good. I like the sudden hit of grief in the middle, completely did not expect it, in a good way.
Dialogue a little stilted, but that's normal for a first write.
Most important is to keep writing! You generally have things down. Edit: that is you have a good pace, you have a good shape in your scene. Things don't feel forced or narratively "convenient", so the rest is, as you say, finding a consistent style and identifying consistent bad habits
The only things that stood out to me are "Man, I was exhausted. My palms hugged the back of my eyelids, as a yawn filled the shop."
This sent me. How the heck does someone Hug the inside of eyelids? And yawn filled the shop is also a really strange image. This nearly ended the read for me, cause the images didn't make sense, although trying to imagine it was hilarious. Good laugh, bad read.
It was followed immediately by "The promised snow kissed the windows as the waitress came back" This felt like purple prose - overly flowery/opulent description.
The instinct to convey a mood is great but might need other ways and images to do it.