The weekend prompts come from @mariannewest of the @freewritehouse.

With three different sentence prompts to steer or indeed sabotage your story, it is a fun challenge.

If you are keen, for the first prompt hit the link below, then check out @mariannewest's post for the next prompt.

Everyone is welcome.

https://steemit.com/freewrite/@mariannewest/weekend-freewrite-2-16-2019-part-1-the-first-sentence

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Here is mine.

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It is a conspiracy, don't you see it?" She walked away from the table, clenching her fists.

Whenever she heard something she didn't like she called it a conspiracy, waving her hands in fists, sometimes thrusting them in the direction of anyone who gets in her way, frequently thumping them on her own forehead in frustration.

A conspiracy, the world was plotting against her. She never came to a logical conclusion. No, the entire room was wrong or conspiring together to sabotage her wonderful existence. Story after story allegedly created to sabotage her, all with similar outcomes from multiple parts of her life, but the onus was never on her. These people, strangers but for their unfortunate link to her, had apparently gotten together and invented everything.

But she refused to discuss it. To accept responsibility. Maybe we had conspired, a last ditch effort to save her life, to save her from herself.
For what?

"Pumpkins can grow everywhere. That is not what I want to discuss with you!"

Pumpkins? She was talking crazy.

"These pumpkin heads!"
She screeched and scratched at her skin, unclenching her fists in order to point her quivering nicotine stained index finger at those in the room who had gathered to support her. To help me talk her around to seeing what she was doing to herself, to us all.

She paused and I thought for a moment we had a chance, but she drew breath and the barrage continued.

"These spud heads vegetating in your living room sitting all smug in a row they don't know me they don't know you!*
She poked me in the chest with her bony finger, the dirt beneath her once perfectly manicured nails.

"All conspiring together on their vine. Grubby, dirty vegtards that's what you are. They are not even a grape vine of gossipers they are big stupid pumpkin heads, on a dirty weedy ground vine. And you!"

She turned to me again and all I saw was hatred, she didn't see me, it pierced my heart that despising look.

"You are the biggest vegtard of all. Oh my gourd! You!"

She came at me with fury. I can't see her in those eyes anymore, she is not my girl, I don't see my girl behind those eyes. Where is my girl.

"You are the head fucking turnip. You! Yeah you heard me, jack-o'-lantern. All hollow on the inside and shrivelled up, and coming after me like a witch on all souls day. The one day you have a soul and you judge mine. You're a goon, a hypocrite, a pretender, an imposter. That's right a fucking turnip surrounded by pumpkins. You are nothing, empty!"

The watch was broken. As she swung her arms around at people and shadows and unseen foe, I saw the watch had been shattered. It was hanging by a knotted broken hair elastic, fashioned into a strap of sorts. My heart both dipped and soared at the sight.

On one hand it seemed she had been sound enough of mind to remember it's worth and seek to repair or at least retain it, restraining it although crudely to her wrist in her makeshift band.
Oh My Heart it sank to the pits of my gut to see this elegant piece ruined beyond repair. The filth, the damage, the decay. It represented the woman in front of me so much more than it did the one whose refined elegant wrist it once adorned. How I longed for such elegance such grace.

As I peeled my eyes from it they met hers, it seemed her eyes too had at least for a moment shared my focus, my reference. If so it was fleeting and only fuelled her.

"You're not even a pumpkin, you rot " she screamed, "not even pumpkin soup. You are a fly in the soup, a bug in the soup of my soul. That is what you are.

" She knew it, we all know it you pest, you are nothing. That is why she gave me the watch and not you. That is why you fill these jack-o'-lanterns with darkness and lies when they should be shedding light. You never liked that I shine brighter than you."

Her words, they burned with an undeniable truth, but a truth of a time long past. If only she knew I would give her my last spark, would step back into the shadows where I once lived, just to see her lantern blaze the skies once more.

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