Did you feel lucky this weekend?
It was St. Patrick's Day after all, which is a great excuse for not writing—just kidding! Such a thing does not exist! The holiday is, however, a great excuse to participate in a themed photo writing prompt.
Photo by Giuseppe Milo
Did you write this weekend? About what? Let us know in the comments!
PRACTICE
Who are these two women? Where are they, and what are they talking about? Take fifteen minutes to write a scene based on the St. Patrick's-themed photo above. Let your imagination take you where it will!
When you're done, share your scene in the comments below, and be sure to comment on a few other writers' pieces!
“No, but, like, if the Earth was round then how come horizons are always flat?”
St Patrick’s Day Photo Prompt
‘So what do you plan to do about it Cathie?’ Irene probed gently ‘Will you go back home and try and sort it all out with your family or will you stay on here in Chicago and stick it out at college?’
Cathie reached up and straightened her tall Striped hat. She and Irene were in Chicago City today to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. Her father and her three older siblings were still staunch Irish stock, even after all these years of living in America, particularly her father who religiously partook of a glass of Guinness a day at the Shamrock Arms pub every day without fail.
Never let it be said that the McSweeney family baulked on their Irish traditions each and every St Patrick’s Day. Cathleen, or Cassie as she preferred to be called these days, looked worried and realised it would be better to voice her worries rather than to keep them bottled up, to her best friend Irene, who had been through high school with her and now college. Not that she would be able to stay at college for long if her brothers had anything to do with it.
‘I don’t know Irene. Since Mom died, my father isn’t coping very well right now. My brother Michael thinks because I am the only girl, I should take a leave from college and go back and live with Dad again – at least until he is well enough to cope again.
Cassie, who had facing out towards the green river of Chicago, tinted especially for St. Patrick’s Day every year, now turned towards Irene, looking totally confused and just a little bit angry.
‘I was this close Irene to achieving my dreams of living independently on my own.’ She held up her left hand and stretched out her index finger and thumb. ‘I was this close to finishing my last year. I don’t quite know what to do. What do you think Irene?’
‘I think you should organise your Auntie to come and look after your Dad – just until our summer vacation coming up in a few months. Then you can come back home and be with him over the summer break, then get your three bossy brothers to take turns in looking after him or hire a live-in housekeeper and home carer for your father. That’s what I think you should do. If you give in and go home now, your father won’t let you leave ever again, nor will your brothers.’
‘You’re right Irene. I will ring Michael after lunch and tell him of my decision. In the meantime, we have a parade to go to. I feel so much better for having this talk with You. It sure helps to be able to share one’s troubles with a good friend.’
‘Let’s go then!’ Irene linked arms with Cassie as they raced off to join the parade together.
Sorry Garrett. I didn’t mean to add my story to your reply. I posted it in the wrong area I guess.
They are the last contestants of the St. PATRICK’S DAY STARE DOWN. They have not blinked an eye since midnight.
Sonja leaned back in astonishment at what Priya had just said. She almost couldn’t believe it, but her sorority sister still held her thumb and index finger about five inches apart, showing how big it was. “You stuffed that whole thing in your mouth?
Priya bobbed her head. “Oh, yeah. All of it.
“Didn’t you choke?”
Priya pushed her silly St. Patrick’s Day hat back upright. Damned wind kept trying to blow it off her head. “No gag reflex.”
Sonja shook her head, and then hurriedly put her hand on top of her own stripped Saint Paddy’s Day hat, right on the orange stripe. “Okay, that is impressive, but it’s also kinda nasty.”
Priya snickered. “You’re just jealous.”
“Of you being a nasty girl?”
Priya fished the wrapped out of her cluttered purse. Her keys, snagged on her compact, caught the wrapper and tore it more. The bright yellow cellophane with blue writing on it fluttered in the breeze. “Here’s proof, too.”
Sonja shook her head again. “Damn, girl. You ate an entire Butterfinger in one bite?” She let out a bark of laughter. “You’re a greedy wench.”
Both ladies dissolved into laughter.
I enjoyed your post and the friendly chat between the girls.. Thanks for sharing
Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed it.
I continued to work on my short story…. and will be able to delete 2 of the stories that were unfinished by adding snippets of those in this one, love when a story finally comes together….i just needed to start from anothers point of view.
So how many months are you, Aisling?
Four, or 16 weeks to be precise, Siobhann.
So how big is he now?
About this big ( uses her hand as a gauge. See picture.) ) He’s about as big as a mango fruit, don’t you know?
I’m a bit further on. My little girl’s about the size of a grapefruit.
Holy Mother of God ( genuflects) help us when they’re full term. They’ll be the size of water melons. That will make our eyes water when we give berth. (Nervous laugh.)
I know, it doesn’t bear thinking about. I’ve told my hubby that I’m going to have gas, air and whatever else is available.
What did he say?
He said “good “ as he was worried about how he was going to manage with just a couple of pints of the Guinness.
They laugh together Men, eh?
Have you chosen a name yet?
Yes, we’ve chosen Nmhttyarhe (pronounced Nigel)
You’re going to call him what?
Nmhttyarhe. It means leader of men, apparently.
Oh, right. I thought you said Nmttaryde.( pronounced Niall) That’s becoming very popular, I hear. From my husband’s Irish roots, you know.
How about you?
We’ve decided to call her Siovverhgaern ( Sharon)
Siovverhgaern. Now that’s such a lovely name. It’s one that I haven’t heard in a while. It’s making a bit of a comeback, isn’t it?
The family are very traditional and they wanted something that reflected their Irish history
Yes, mine too. Mind you, these traditions are all well and good but they can get a bit ridiculous, you know.
How do you mean?
Well, these hats for instance. I know it’s traditional but, I mean, having to wear a pregnancy hat for nine months is really getting on my tits!!
Monica and Jenny looked at each other in disbelief. They had arrived
early to get a good spot to see the Saint Patrick’s Day Parade. But no
one was there. They always held the parade at this very spot each year.
They had agreed to meet at exactly two o’clock. giving them ample time
to scout out the perfect place to stand that would give them the best view.
Something was wrong. They looked around and saw a gentleman walking
towards them.
“Let’s ask him.” Monica said
“sure.” Jenny replied.
As the stranger approached them, Monica spoke first.
“Excuse me sir, Is this where the St. Patrick’s Day parade is going to be.
“No. It was cancelled this year.”
“Cancelled.” They both repeated in a loud voice.
How could a whole parade be cancelled, they both thought.
The gentleman smiled and quickly walked away without any further
explanation.
Monica and Jenny were dumbfounded. How could this be?
I hope you all had a nice St. Patrick’s Day.
Clare, I can’t believe we arrived in Dublin, the capital of
Ireland, an island hardly the size of a clump of peas in a pod; the length of
your finger in comparison to one of the states of America. All that travelling,
the excitement of the Parade and the pints of Guinness; not to mention the
Craic with local lads playing the fiddles, and we missed the parade! We forget
the time zones were different in this part of the world. “Yes, that’s a pity,”
replied Siobhan, “but at least we have the hats for souvenir’s as reminders.”
“What was the name of the street the Guinness is made in,
and do they open on St Patrick’s Day I wonder?” said Clare, looking under her glasses
at the two leprechauns prancing up the street towards them.