Only Money Can Buy ~ Weekend Freewrite ~ Three prompts One story!

---

First Prompt and First Sentence

Richard loved to surprise her, she was learning how to accept these tokens of love. The problem was, she always assumed there were strings attached. It was the world she came from. Nothing was free, everything had it’s price.

But Richard, he was different. He seemed to just like to her smile, and on the rare occasion, maybe even a laugh.

It was nice to feel wanted and adored. She couldn’t help but wonder how long it would last, and when he would leave. They all left eventually. Some sooner than others, but he said he was different.

Second Prompt: She started taking up a lot of bad habits.

She thought back to the time she had run away. It hadn’t been long after she had started taking up a lot of bad habits. Her parents hated them, but never bothered parenting her long enough to change anything.

Everything had been more important then what was going on in her life, the classes she was failing or the friends she had chosen. If it wasn’t about money, they never spent more than ten minutes talking about it.

So, one day she stole their credit cards and racked up some major debt on clothes she never planned to wear. This really got to them. They spent two solid hours lecturing her on the importance of trust and what criminal charges meant.

The real lesson she had learn though, was that money can buy you anything. Even attention from your parents.

Third Prompt: An old letter from Amsterdam

She only had ten minutes until Richard was picking her up, but she sat on her twin mattress on top the of comforter that hadn’t seen a laundry mat since she purchased it three years ago. Who has the money to wash a blanket, when you can barely feed yourself?

A shoe box full of old mementos laid splayed out on her bed. She wasn’t sure what had made her feel sentimental, but as she dug through her closet looking for her missing high heel, she had accidentally knocked it over.

She looked now at a yellowed paper. The creases worn from folding and unfolding. It was an old letter from Amsterdam she had received in the mail from her parents a week before they died. It had been a plane crash. She hadn’t been invited. Looking around her dingy apartment, where the windows were so dirty they barely let in the sun’s rays, she wasn’t sure how lucky she was.

There was a knock at the door.

“Is my special lady in there?” came Richard’s voice.

---

Thanks for reading! I love doing these weekend freewrites and just letting it flow out!

For more information on freewrites please visit @mariannewest!

Like always...