Ageism

Time to write!

Write about a character in a different age group- someone who isn't your age and who is of an age that you don't normally write about.
This is actually a little bit more difficult than you'd think, mainly because I already really like exploring things from the points of views of others. For example, I write in the psyche of young children in Protector and in my rambling about Penniworth the other day. I work with teenagers/adolescents a lot, and younger adults quite frequently. This leaves me with old people. I don't write much about them. I also tend to write from the perspective of a girl. It's much easier for me to write a female protagonist, probably because I am, you know, female. So to make this interesting we're going to write about an old man. I don't want him to be the guy from UP though, tempting as it sounds, cause I want this to be creative.

I wanted to be cheerful. I  always felt guilty after getting upset with Madelyn or Cambry for being too loud. Especially when they then turned to Leila, my daughter, and told her that "Papa was being mean".
When did I get so old?
I really do want to be happy. And I suppose, in a way, I am. I am certainly grateful. However, I can be grateful for the things I have and still notice the things I don't have anymore at the same time.
I know I'm lucky to have a wonderful family, and for my sweet wife Eliza. I pray every night and thank the Lord for each and every one of my children, and my grandchildren, and for the chance I have to be with them.
But getting old is still hard.
Yesterday Cambry came and sat next to me. She started tracing my veins, popping up under my dark, leathery skin, and said, "Papa? Why are your hands so different than mine?"
I told her it was part of getting old. I said that when you got older you spent so much time taking care of other people that your body stopped watching after itself.
Cambry was quiet for a long time after that. Then she stood up on the couch and kissed me on the top of my bald head. This is something she is extremely fond of doing and tells her younger sister Madelyn to do all the time. After bestowing her kiss she whispered, "I'll take care of you, Papa."

Aw.  A sweet moment, captured in a very short endeavor for the night. 

Ever After

Time to write!

Today's prompt is to write a scene from a fairy tale from the point of view of a nontraditional character. This could be a fun one to revisit multiple times, because twists on already created stories are sort of my specialty.

I don't even know why you want to hear this stupid story. I mean, everybody already knows it. It's all about stupid Cinderella, so why are you asking me? Why don't you go ask her?
She'll tell you. She'll tell you how, like, I'm just this huge brat and that me and Drizzy always were out to get her. The truth is, she just needs to learn to grow a spine!
But I guess if you are just going to sit there and wait for me to tell you what happened when the prince came, I might as well just tell you. I can't really go back to bed and get my beauty sleep until you leave anyway.

So it was the morning after the ball. I was exhausted, and honestly not in the best mood. Drizzy had been going on and on ALL NIGHT LONG rambling about the Prince and how he had smiled at her. Which is so whatever. It was totally obvious that he wasn't interested in her. He was all wrapped up in the mystery chick, which is just so typical. Of course, obviously, that girl was Cinderella. And I'm not as dumb as you all think. I would've recognized her right off, but after only getting a stiff formal  bow from the Prince I was like, Well so much for that option. Now I'm at a party. Let's hit the royal open bar. Not very responsible, but whatever. You'd do it to if you were rejected that way. Charming? Forgive the unlady-like snort, but sooo not.

I'm like way off topic now though. Back to what I was saying. That morning that the Prince showed up on our porch like, "Hey I got this shoe, it fits my one true love, let's see if it's yours," I was not feeling my best. I had a hangover, I hadn't slept well, and I totally knew that shoe wasn't mine. Still, if I had to go downstairs and try the stupid shoe on before the Prince would leave, then I might as well see if it fit. I mean, like, way more than one girl has the same shoe size right? You don't walk into the Shoe City downtown and go to the special rack marked with your name cause you're the only girl with shoes that size. Although, that would be totally awesome, and a tad ideal.

By the time I got downstairs Drizzy had already tried the shoe and was sobbing in the corner because it hadn't fit. I looked at the Prince like Seriously? You want me to try this on? You sure weren't jazzed to see me last night, so why would you even want me to attempt this?

Well obviously the shoe didn't fit. It isn't my fault that Daddy's feet were really big. Anyway, Cinderella deserves the Prince. I mean, he's the one who decided he was obsessed and wanted to get married after one night of dancing, but didn't even recognize her when she came in to try on the shoe.

So like, best of luck to them both, good riddance to her and her whining. And the mice in the house. That was getting seriously disgusting.

And even though Drizzy thinks her life is basically over because our stepsister gets to marry a prince, I'm kinda relieved. Cause when I get married, the guy darn better know what I look like regardless of my shoe size.