Write continuously for ten minutes or longer, using the title After the Chill as an initial spark. Let your thoughts flow from one to the next without much, if any, deliberation. Do not worry too much about spelling and grammar; the key is to stretch your writing muscles and see where your thoughts take you.
Photo from: Paul Esson, Flickr Creative Commons: https://flic.kr/p/4yaoFj
From the book, “Just Write One Thing Today; 365 Creative Prompts to Inspire You Every Day” by John Gillard
After the chill was gone, he moved from the fireplace to the kitchen to check on his wife. She was doing the dishes with such pressure, he was surprised the plate didn’t shatter in her hand. He crossed to her, and put a hand gently on her elbow. “Katie, come on! This can wait.”
She shook her head. “No, it can’t Tyler. I’ve got things to get done.”
“And those things can wait. Think of the baby.” He laid a hand gently on her stomach.
She glared and pulled away from him, dripping warm dish water on his flannel shirt. “Is that all you think about? This precious baby?” The words rolling off her tongue were bitter, and he sensed a deep hurt in her he couldn’t totally understand.
“Katie.” He reached to rub her arm, but she quickly pulled away. The chill he felt in the kitchen was far stronger than any chill he’d felt outside. “Come on, please, just talk to me. We can work this out.”
He saw her wipe tears from her eyes as she whispered “There’s nothing to work out.”
“What are you saying?” She was silent, and the sound of the clock in the kitchen ticking was far louder than he’d ever noticed before. She turned away from him, moving back towards the sink and the dishes. “Come on, girl, let’s work this out. I’m not the bad guy here, we both know that.”
“So I am.” Her sides shook a little and he knew she was crying harder but trying to pull her into a hug at this point would do no good.
“I didn’t say that at all! Come on, just talk to me. Let’s figure something out. This might not be what you wanted, but it’s where we are. Let’s just talk about it.”
Katie kept her eyes on the sink. She didn’t want to face Tyler, didn’t want to tell him how much she hated living on the farm, how she felt stuck and always so alone. It wouldn’t do any good. He was a farmer. She’d known that when they got married, and he had responsibilities far greater than most farmers his age. In many ways, she couldn’t fault him for being distant all the time, but she needed more.
She could feel Tyler’s eyes on her, knew without looking at him that they were pleading with her to let him in. She sent up a prayer and took a deep breath. Maybe he could change. Maybe she could finally let him in just a little.