Welcome back, friends! It was, as always, a pleasure to read through your responses to this past week's prompt. I was surprised by how many of you took to the future with the word year. It was an interesting week of time travel.
First place this week goes to JannaTWrites who gave us what she describes as potentially "too sappy." Commenters argued that it wasn't sappy at all, just romantic. We agreed that it was a successful piece of romance, making us feel without forcing anything on us. Here is Truth of Promises.
Second place this week goes to Draug who told us in frightening detail the lengths a writer will go to in order to be heard. And third place this week goes to Steph at People Do Things With Their Lives. Like Janna, she gives us a heartwarming reunion with really relatable dialogue. Excellent work, guys.Norma looked down at her lap, at her daughter’s fingers wrapped around her own hands. “Patricia, it’s not what you think.” She contemplated how much truth to reveal.“Mom, Dad’s been gone six months and now you want to marry this guy. Just take it slow, is all I’m asking.”Norma laughed. “I’m seventy-five years old. I take everything slow these days.”Patricia frowned. “Mom—““Let me tell you a story,” Norma interrupted. “At thirteen, I’d fallen in love and wanted to get married. Grandma Rose disapproved and said he was too old for me. An eighteen-year-old had no business around a child of thirteen, she said. I couldn’t get a marriage license without her signature, so I had no choice but to wait. Then war happened again. I cried when the Army issued his deployment orders for Korea. The year was 1950 and the Korean War raged. He promised he would return, but I’d heard enough on the radio…”“Mom. Are you okay?” Patricia handed her mom a tissue and draped an arm around her mom’s bony shoulders.Norma sniffed and rubbed her eyes. “Grandma Rose got a letter in March 1951. Said he died in the Battle of Chipyong-ni.” Norma shook her head. “Hearing the news almost killed me. I couldn’t bear to see the words. I always regretted that I hadn’t read the letter myself.”“Did you love Dad?”Norma lifted her guilty gaze. “Of course. But not like Richard.”Patricia stared, slack-jawed. “I can’t believe…” her voice trailed.“Grandma Rose lied. Richard had been taken prisoner but was released in 1956. I’d already married your father.”Patricia gasped.“Richard kept his promise. When he called three months ago, he said he’d been waiting for me.” Norma looked into Patricia’s eyes. “Truth is I’d been waiting for him, too.”
If you follow us on Twitter or on Facebook (and we'd love it if you did), you may have heard us complaining about the moderation process and how it was creating rather than solving problems. You may have then heard us say that we'd stopped moderating posts and that we'd go back to the way things used to be. Sorry for the confusion, folks, but it turns out this was not the solution we were looking for. We wanted a way to ensure that everyone was following the guidelines and adhering to copyright law, but it turns out that the role of police doesn't suit us so well. Thanks for bearing with us as we try out new things, some of which will (hopefully) work and some of which will. . .not.
Which brings us to our quick-fire Trifextra challenge. Andy Rooney created something called “The 50-50-90 rule: anytime you have a 50-50 chance of getting something right, there's a 90% probability you'll get it wrong.” We want you to give us your own probability equation. Use whichever numbers suit you, and make it about whatever you like, but give us something to think about. In 33 words, of course. Good luck! And we will see you back here on Monday for our Anniversary Challenge!