Suri Purefoy

United States

"Step into a scene and let it drip from your fingertips." MJ Bush
Be the person you can only be. Write what only you can write. Never look back. You have something that you and only you can put into the world. So don't hold it back. Let it shine!

Message to Readers

Anything is appreciated

In It Goes!

December 29, 2015

PROMPT: Two in a Canoe


GROUP: Flash Fiction

I'm not quit sure when the oar fell in, but when it did, I almost soiled myself. 
My blue hoodie, although made for wamrth and comfort, made me feel cold inside, sending depressed shivers down my spine. My thoughts were moody, seluded, sorrowful. The one descent chance I had to ask Maleene out and I blow it! The embarressment that had crept into my cheeks still felt hot and reminded me of what happened. But I don't really want to tell you, because you'll just make fun of me the way Maleene and everyone else did when I...yeah, I'm not going to say.
Those were the memories that swirled like a tornadoe inside my smarts-deprived brain. Then my oar fell in.
Before I get to that, I need to explain my reasoning for being there, out in the middle of some creepy laggon.
Jonny, my best friend and the only person who thinks I'm a weirdo, had invited me, knowing how bad I must feel, out on a canoeing trip. This was his favorite lake and, as he declared, he "went out there whenever he felt down".
I guess he had a point. I mean, once we rowed(corrrection: Jonny rowed until he had finally yelled at me enough that I picked up the paddle)far enough the whole lake seemed to get all fuzzy and gloomy, kind of like those fake balck mists you see in movies. That cold feeling and look worked. For maybe 2 seconds, then I came back to reality.
(It didn't actually sound like that, but that's all I can do to write it out.) As I said, I almost did something that should never be done due to fright, but often is(at least in books). And Jonny said a word I DO NOT want to write. You can make it up, if you really want to.
He still held his oar in his white-knuckled hands as he stood up and turned to face me, shouting things. I just stared dumbly, not quit yet understanding what I'd done wrong. Duh—I should've realized! I'd been holding my oar on my lap, not paying much attention to it, and I guess I bumped it or something.
"Come on, Michael!" Jonny yelled angrily. 
"I didn't-"
He made a sound in his throat, kind of like a Perry-the-Platypus click thing. But exasperated and frustrated. Then he took a deep breath and looked at me. "Agh, nevermind. Just help me get back to shore."
Jonny sat back down and began rowing, but it wasn't really working. 
"Jonny, sorry, man."
He sighed. "It's fine, just...don't do it again. OK? Dropping an oar in the lake it like the stupidest thi-" 
I couldn't help it—I laughed so hard, rolling in the rocking boat, that I almost tipped us over. All the blocked and negative emotions that had been feeding my brain suddenly came out of me in a positive way. It felt good.  
"Stop it! It wasn't funny!" Jonny glared at me, but I could see he  was trying not to smile. 
We both laughed, kicking our legs out and searching for breath. 



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  • December 29, 2015 - 5:11pm (Now Viewing)

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