Daily Writing Prompts discussion

Happy Saturday, everyone! I'm not sure what happened with the prompt, so I'm going to cover it so that we have one. Here it is:
"Use the sentence, 'It grew faster than I ever would have thought,' somewhere in your writing."
Have fun, and happy writing!

Prediction: some talented author is going to use that line in some sort of cute love story!
Can’t wait! 🥳

Ikk that's what I was hoping when I picked it! I love the idea!

TW (pls proceed carefully. Pls take care of your mental health)
I look at your beautiful face. Your eyes that light up when you talk about something you like. Your hands that move fast. Too fast, to punctuate whatever you talk about. Your teeth that gleam when you laugh. And oh that laugh, it's like clear bells on the edge of a tinkling river. Sometimes you laugh so hard that tears escape your eyes. You reach out with your slim white fingers to wipe it away. The same finger you use to sweep away your beautiful wave of hair that kiss your forehead. Those hair of yours fall over your shoulders like a glowing golden brown waterfall. My hands itch to touch them.
And at last my gaze rests on your lips. Those perfect lips, so soft, as of they're made of clouds. They are moving so fast to talk about whatever you are talking. I can't wait to capture them within my own.
And then your eyes flick over mine. Your lips stop moving at last. Your hands halt.
"What are you doing here? Why are you here again?" Your voice is shaking when you say this.
I just smirk. You know why I'm here. Why do you ask me every time? You know I'm going to the coffee place you love next, right behind you. But you won't notice.
It grew faster than I ever would have thought. My obsession. With you.

I KNEW IT!!!
That’s beautiful ReaderGirl!

Okay, I love it. It's gorgeous, it's beautiful.
However, typically, you don't or you shouldn't use the second person perspective in literature or when writing stories. It can be a hard narrative to follow, and it's really only ever used in things like textbooks and science books.

@ophelia thank you so much 💓💓💓 love youu

@amara thats rly good advice. I will keep that in mind. Thank you! 💓💓

My personal opinion is that it made the read interesting. You wrote it well enough to make me keep reading (and want more lol) and made your story unique. However I have seen versions of this pov where it’s dreadful, so just be careful how you write it💜

It’s late, but I wrote something and it’s called: “Little Light Of Mine”
(There are typos. I haven’t seen them, but I know they’re there so just ignore them plsss)

My hand squeezes my sister’s, her soft fingers growing cold in this sterile room.
We’ve been waiting for hours, and every second feels like a new weight on my heart.
“Ms. Andrews.” Calls the cheery nurse, my head snaps up and my heels click as I stand.
“Here.” My voice sounds high and strained, even to my ears.
My sister and I followed the nurse down a hallway to the office of the local doctor.
I took the seat on the left side of the desk while my sister took the one on the right, with the doctor sitting opposite us.
“Well,” began the doctor, a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks. “I believe a congratulaciones are in order.”
“I- what?” I stutter. I had been feeling sick and tired for the past three weeks, and there was this terrible pain emanating from my lower back. I had at first thought they were cramps, but when they persisted I feared it was endometriosis, so I scheduled an appointment with a doctor. I looked to my sister and saw the same picture of confusion on my face reflected in her eyes.
“Ah,” the doctor smiled. “Allow me to explain.” He shuffled through his desk, pulling out a thin stack of papers. “We drew your bloodwork and found high levels of white blood cells in your bloodstream, and upon further examination determined that you are approximately three and a half weeks pregnant.”
I passes me one of the papers, presumably containing the details of my bloodwork, which I numbly accept. “Congratulations!” He repeats cheerily.
“Pregnant?” Questions my sister, her fingers drumming nervously on the desk.
“Yes.” Confirms the doctor, and I can do nothing but stare as I lay my hand on my flat stomach.
***
“I told you.” My sister said at last, her eyes never leaving the road as she maneuvered her way off the interstate.
“Told me what?” I asked, my head leaning against the seat, my eyes on the blurring trees and outlines of the buildings.
“That you weren’t sick. I told you, you didn’t have that disease.”
“Endometriosis.” I sighed.
“Whatever, it sounds made up. You’ve always been like this.” She thinks everything sounds made up.
“Been like what?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. Even though this conversation is just a distraction from what we’re both truly thinking… who’s the father?
“When you were younger,” she says, driving down a street towards my apartment building. “You were convinced that you had rabies.” She smirks at me as she parks on the curb.
“I was nine.” I remind her.
“You claimed you had the Black Death when you were twelve.” She deadpans, turning off the engine and hopping out of the car.
“Do you keep a record of all my passing fantasies?” I ask, chasing after her as she climbs up the stairs.
“Only the insane ones.” She sing-songs as she slides the key into the lock of my small flat. She jiggles the key for a moment before swinging the door open.
“Ahh, home at last.” She sighs, prancing over to my shabby couch and flopping down on it.
“My home.” I mumble, shutting the door and following her to my couch.
"So, who’s the father?" she asks, cutting straight to the chase.
I flopped down next to her, the springs of the old couch groaning under my weight. I stared at the bloodwork papers still clutched in my hand. The cheerful "Congratulations!" of the doctor echoed in my mind.
"I... I don't know," I whisper, the admission a heavy weight leaving my chest.
My sister sits up straight, her playful smirk vanishing instantly. "What do you mean, you don't know?" She takes my rough hands in her soft and now warm ones. “You’re kidding, right?”
I look to her, and she must see it on my face, because I only see panic in my twin sister’s big brown eyes. I was always the careful one, the one with a plan. She was the carefree spitfire. Sophie, the girl who danced on tables like to not do so would have been sacrilege.
“I was upset over work,” I begin, careful to keep my voice even. “I checked in at a hotel and went down to the bar, and there was this guy. He didn’t look like he belonged. He looked like someone used to having everything handed to him…but he was kind.” She pulls me to her, wrapping her arms around me as my eyes start to water. “We didn’t talk to each other, didn’t even make eye contact. But then creepy Frank started talking to me, tried to buy me drinks. I told him no, but he wouldn’t listen…and that’s when the stranger got involved.” Sophie rises from the couch, giving me a moment to calm down while she grabs something from the kitchen.
She returns with two champagne glasses in hand full of bubbling orange liquid.
“You’re kidding.” I laugh.
“Nope.” She sticks out her tongue, handing me a glass.
“I can’t drink alcohol.” I say, eyeing what I’m assuming is a mimosa.
“Chill, it’s orange juice and bubbles.” I roll my eyes at her but sip the drink anyway. “Now finish your story.” She demands, waving her glass in my face.
“Right, where was I?”
“The hot stranger saves the damsel in distress.” She says with an entirely straight face.
“The stranger,” I glare. “Sent Frank away with just a look, and I’m not sure if it was the fact that his suit screamed ‘I have money and I will use it,’ or if it was just the cold look it his eyes.”
“He sounds sexy.” Sophie interrupts, a somewhat dreamy look in her eyes that are the same as mine.
“But,” I continue, ignoring her comment. “He was actually interesting, he seemed like someone who didn’t let many people in. And I guess I was just the girl he decided didn’t matter if he let in….”
“Well screw him.” She huffs. “I’ll be the dad.”
“What?” I choke out a laugh.
“You heard me. I will be the father.”
“You can’t be the father.”
“Why the hell not?” She shouts. “I’m way better than some good for nothing turd face.”
“You can’t be the dad,” I say calmly. “Because you’re the aunt.”
“Screw it, I’ll be both.”
I smile at her and topple her in a hug. “I’m going to hold you to that.” I laugh.

MONTH 4

“No.” I glare at Sophie and the pastel colored car seat in her arms.
“Why not?” She pouts.
“Because it’s ugly.”
“Rude.” She sniffs, grabbing a different one with a pattern of raccoons on it off the shelf. “How ‘bout this one?”
I look at it and then look at my small baby bump, resting my hand on top.
“It’s perfect.” I murmur.

MONTH 7

“I’m fat.”
“You’re not fat.” Sofie says, sitting on the floor as she tries to assemble a crib.
“Oh really? Then how come I can’t get my shoes on?” I cry, waving my flip flop in the air.
“Just wear the uggs I bought you.” She shrugs.
“I hate uggs.”
“Then go buy some shoes you do like.” She shoos me away with one hand clutching a long wooden beam and the other holding a mimosa.
“Fine.” I groan.
I pull on the uggs and my coat, stepping out into the cold November air.
***
I walked a quarter of a mile to the small convenience store and stood in the shoe isle for a stood fifteen minutes just staring at the many rows of shoes.
Sandals. Tennis shoes. Boots. Dress shoes. Heels. Cowboy boots. Running shoes. Birkenstocks. Clogs. Slippers.
So many goddamn shoes.
I scan the shelves until my eyes catch on a large pair of sandals sitting on the top shelf.
Perfect.
I reach up, my belly pressing against the shelf. I stand on the tips of my feet and my fingers only barely brush the shoe box.
“Need some help?” I freeze, I know that voice.
The stranger…Matthew.
“No, I’m fine.” I mumble, my hands clutching my stomach. He can’t see me.
“Do we know each other?” He asks.
“No, sorry.” I start to walk away, my head bent.”
“Hey, wait!” He calls, but I rush out of the store, my legs pumping as I race to my flat.
“Hey!” He calls again, a considerable distance away as he strides after me.
He wouldn’t be so close if I wasn’t so damn short.
My breath hitches in my throat as I fumble for my keys. Hurry, hurry, hurry. My hands are shaking so much that I dropped them, the metallic jangle echoing in the quiet stairwell.
"Leaving so soon?" His voice is closer now, smooth and deep, just as I remembered.
I spun around, scooping up my keys, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Look,” I say, my voice trembling. “I'm really not in the mood for this."
He’s close now, near the bottom of the stairs, the cold air from outside still clinging to him.
He’s tall, dressed in a sleek winter coat, his eyes a piercing blue that seem to analyze everything. He still has that air of a man used to getting his way, but the memory of a kind, protective stranger flashes in my mind, confusing me.
"For what?" he asks, taking another slow step up. "All I wanted to do was help you get a shoebox."
"Well, I don't need help," I snap, my voice sounding more frantic than I intended. My hand involuntarily went to my stomach, the bump impossible to hide under my coat now.
His gaze followed my movement, and his expression falls.
“Hannah?” He questions, he remembers my name…he remembers me.
“Yeah?”
“You’re pregnant.” He states.
“How very astute of you.” I scoff, a bit of sarcasm seeping into my voice.
“It’s mine, right?” He isn’t really asking, so all I do is nod. He runs a hand through his light blonde hair, his face a mask of disbelief.
“Well,” I clear my voice, opening the door. “Sophie’s going to hate you.”
“Who’s Sophie?” He asks, his eyes on me.
“My twin.” I laugh.

MONTH 9

“You’re crazy.” Sophie says, drinking straight out of the orange juice carton.
“I’m well aware.”
“Really? Are you? Because this is insane.”
“It’s a choice.”
“To have your baby in this teeny tiny apartment instead of a hospital?” She questions, splashing orange juice everywhere as she waves her arms around.
“Yes, it’s my choice.”
“Crazy.” She reiterates, shaking her head.
I turn as someone knocks on the door and Sophie goes to answer.
“Oh.” I hear her groan. “It’s you, the turd head.”
“Good morning Sophia,” Matthew greets. “How’s Hannah?”
“Perfectly fine, you can go now.” Sophie tries to push him out but he sidesteps her.
“I’m here for my child and their mother.” He says politely, coming towards me on the bed.
“Thief.” She mutters.
I smile to myself, Sophie’s still bitter that she can’t be the dad anymore. But I know that she’ll be the aunt, the most amazing aunt in this world.
As I look at the father of my child and at my twin sister who I share more than just a face with, I know that this baby will be loved. I know that I will love it.

DAY 1
“This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.” His voice is deep and smooth as he sings to the small baby in his arms, and I close my eyes as I listen. My bed is soft and my body is sore, but sleep doesn’t call my name, because the small coos of my daughter are beautiful enough to keep me up for hours.
“This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.” He continues, his focus entirely on our little light. “Everywhere I go, I’m gonna let it shine.”
I crack open my eyes and Matthew notices, he smiles and gently lays our daughter next to me.
I lay my hand on her chest, she’s so beautiful, so small.
I love her, I can feel it in my heart, and it grew faster than I ever would have thought.
My little light.

@rowan thats such an interesting take on it! It's rly good 😊

Thanks!

Readergirl wrote: "TW (pls proceed carefully. Pls take care of your mental health)
I look at your beautiful face. Your eyes that light up when you talk about something you like. Your hands that move fast. Too fast, ..."

Waittt this was soo interesting. I loved it!

Rowan wrote: "MONTH 4

“No.” I glare at Sophie and the pastel colored car seat in her arms.
“Why not?” She pouts.
“Because it’s ugly.”
“Rude.” She sniffs, grabbing a different one with a pattern of raccoons on i..."

Aweee I'm so happy that they found each other and he wasn't a complete and total jerk.

@Bella

Lol, I’m glad u liked it😂

But I was like this close 🤏 to making him be a jerk and Sophie be the dad.

loll. from her attitude, I know she would've made a great father haha.

Lol, ikr?😂

She would’ve been great.