Encouraged by my friend Gregg, I decided to try my hand at the 100 words challenge. I had actually composed an entry for last week's prompt, but deleted it in a fit of "you are not a writer so why would you play at this?" insecurity. Then G told me I should do one. So. This week, I did. Writing off the prompt was easy, getting it to 100 words was haaaaard.
Here it is...this week's prompt was corridor.
Jim slowed to a walk as he approached the creek bed. Pop's funeral was a damn poor reason to return to Monrovia, he thought. Jim remembered those long-ago childhood Saturdays, felt the cool creek water rushing around his calves as Pop helped him reel in his very first fish. Nothing tasted better than that first bite...
The delivery truck's rumble interrupted Jim's reverie. The creek was actually kind of...brown. Runoff, he supposed, from the condo construction upstream. Jim walked back toward his rental Honda, sidestepping the full restaurant dumpsters, past the sun-bleached sign: "The Monrovia Creek Business Corridor...Progress IS our Future!"
4 hours ago