thanks (or none, I can’t decide) to my friend Brittany, I’m now addicted to Reddit. I didn’t know such a glorious, marvelous thing existed. I’ve been through a solid few Facebook-obsessed phases and I still love my Instagram, but literally everything I’ve ever wanted in, “social media,” exists, thanks to Reddit. I like reading about writing and hearing stories; fiction or not. I like reading other people’s comments and gauging my reactions to them and considering, “what it all means.” I’m an observer, so of course I eat that shit up. Brittany also pointed out a sub-reddit that has 6546413657 writing prompts which makes me incredibly happy. I think that the close-editing with my novel may develop better if I let my mind focus on other writing styles – just an experiment of course. I so enjoy randomly gushing about all sorts of things, but there are times when I truly believe that it’s not enough. I’m not in school currently and don’t have an English class pushing me to gripe about Tolkien for 6 pages at a time.

I’ve shamelessly looked for hours at prompts and mulled over the ideas. I decided it would be best to select one at random and just go for it. So, I refreshed my feed and this prompt was the first to pop up:

You die and regain consciousness in a large movie theater. Each seat is occupied by a version of you from a previous year of your life. Then the film starts…

“What in the actual….” oh shit. Is that me? From 2002? Oh shit, I must actually be dead and I’m glad – look at that hair.  I might as well look around. Me from the 90’s in overalls; a great choice by my mom. Me in my prom dress from senior year – I can’t believe I didn’t wear underwear and fake-baked myself until I was three shades darker than my already-orange dress. Me from –

“Shhhh! It’s about to start. Sit your ass down!”  Me from…well any day of my life.

I sat down and was greeted with popcorn (with m&ms in it since it’s the only way I’ll eat it) and a coke Icee. I gave the silent attendee a look and then smiled; I may be dead but hey, I can at very least still have my way at the movies. I didn’t even have to ask!  I looked around the room some more. This place is filled with my familiar face; I’ve changed so much over the years.

I can’t believe I’m dead. One sneeze in the waiting room at the doctor’s office for that damn headache and boom – lights out. I knew I should have had my head checked sooner…oh well.

The theatre goes dark and the lights come up, Led Zeppelin starts blasting from the speakers and the next thing I know the room is lit up with a bright, black and white picture of me as an infant; a sight I’ve never seen before. I watch in silence as images of people I don’t know pass before my eyes. The film cuts to they day I graduated high school, then the day I graduated college (which is odd because that hasn’t happened yet) and next my wedding day (which hasn’t happened either, even though, there I am, in the 9th row in the back in some cupcake version of a wedding dress I wouldn’t dream of wearing.) There isn’t much dialogue, and none of my friends are played by the right people; the entire movie seems so far-fetched until he comes on-screen. Simultaneously, all of the TiffanyJos in the audience go dead silent (pun intended,) as he began to speak.

We were on the beach, drinking beers and talking about how perfect the September weather was; September on the beach was the best idea, except for the fact that Labor Day weekend was far too crowded for a romantic get-away. “I think we’ll do this forever,” he said as he smiled and kissed me.

I couldn’t believe I was watching this in a movie about my life. Of all moments to make it in to the movie and this one gets picked, the one I wanted to keep a beautiful secret forever. I looked around; the younger versions of myself were smiling with hope and listlessness. The late teen early twenties girls were giggling and blushing like it was a joke and the girls closer to my age seemed sad. I looked back to the bride-version in the back and she was sobbing into the white taffeta.

This sight made me instantly nervous and I knew I had to get out of there. I stood up quietly and smoothed my dress. The tiny 11-year-old tom-boy me grabbed my arm as I passed her and she asked me to stay and watch the rest. I shook my head in fear and quickened my pace towards the door. Nineteen year-old me stepped out of the aisle in a spiked red heel and said, “we’re all here for you, honey; but you’re not going anywhere.”

I liked doing this, maybe I’ll finish it sometime; really write the story out and not just toss ideas around. Next time I’ll just give the prompt at the beginning and of course some sort of catchy title that will make you want to read the musings of a blonde girl.


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