Write about a wound...
(Set a Timer for 15 minutes, and write non-stop.)
I remember the day I met my son, for the first time, like it was yesterday...
I had just left The Mad Greek Cafe, on Beach in Stanton, after closing time, on the evening of March 2nd, 3 days before my birthday.
I had stopped in for dinner, and amused the owners young daughter with a story about going for a swim in the Colorado River, when I was her age.
I told her how I had stubbed my big toe on a rock, under water, and left a bit of it in the river, as blood spurted everywhere, & I used a t-shirt belonging to my Uncle Bill to staunch the flow.
I joked that "who knows, there's probably some weird night creature wandering around in the woods that looks a little like me, to this day."
By the wide-eyed look in her eyes I imagine she half-way believed me. :-D
As I walked across the stree to the bus stop, in the dark, I saw a figure, wrapped in a coat, and with a cap low on its head, sitting on the bench.
I approached, and sat down, reaching for a book in my bag.
The figure next to me turned around, removed its cap, opened its coat, looked me in the eyes, smiled, and said, "Good evening, Pop, how the hell are ya?"
NOTE: Prompt taken from A Writer's Book of Days (Original Ed.) by Judy Reeves.
If you attempt the prompt on your own blog leave a link in the comments. :-D