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You may remember a few weeks ago when I tried my hand at a creative writing prompt over at Write On Edge. Well, today I thought I’d give it another go. This week’s prompt was to think about the day that our great novel would be discovered and transformed into a motion picture. Every great movie needs a great soundtrack and the prompt asked that we think about the song that might play during the pivotal scene of the movie. Picture the scene, the song, and the emotion…then write the scene, in 300 words. Well, I’ll admit to having gone over slightly on this one. But as I begin to contemplate my novel, this scene popped into my head and I couldn’t just end it at 300 words. Hope you enjoy.


Ben slowly backpedaled until he felt the splintery armrest of the chair behind him.

“He’s dead, Ben.” The words reverberated in his ears and through his mind.

He eased onto the seat and stared blankly at his sister who continued, in vain, to stop the stream of tears running down her cheeks.

Is this really happening?” He thought to himself, unable to take his eyes off Ann.

He had come to know her like no one else these past six months. It would never make up for the previous 21 years they spent apart, but it was a start. He came back to Oak Valley a bitter, angry man two seasons ago upon receiving the news of his father’s illness. He never intended to still be here. A brief reunion, the granting of a dying man’s wish, and back on the next flight to New York. That was the plan.

Now he sat back in the chair feeling something strange and unfamiliar taking hold of his body. It was emotion. He scanned the room, taking stock of the family he once disowned but that, upon his arrival, had opened their lives to him again. His mother sat in the far corner of the kitchen, dish towel over one shoulder, trying unsuccessfully to choke back her sadness. His uncle stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders, doing his best to comfort her in silence.

Jonathan, Ben’s younger brother by nearly eight years, sat glassy-eyed on the living room couch. In one hand he held a glass of red wine, in the other, a picture of his father carrying him on his shoulders. The redness of his eyes spoke volumes.

Ben took a deep breath and felt his throat tighten. His hands began to sweat and his chest convulsed as he struggled to find the air. It had been years since he allowed himself to feel emotion like this. He lifted his hands from his lap just in time to catch his dropping head and without restraint, openly wept.