Prompt #117

…that many of you subscribe to Story Club. (If you aren’t a subscriber, take a look!) Right now, paid subscribers are discussing a story (“Feelings” written by Ruth Ozeki), which appears in Ozeki’s new collection of stories, The Typing Lady.

The story is about two young girls—classmates—who are given a school assignment: they are to perform an act of compassion and then write an essay about it. I won’t give away any more of the plot except to say that there is another character in the story, a girl who is thought of as strange and pathetic. None of the other students want to be friends with her.

Oh, childhood! So painful at times.

Reading Ozeki’s story, I was reminded of the strange girl in my class at View Ridge Elementary in Seattle. Her name escapes me now, but I very clearly recall the way the other girls, myself included, avoided her at all costs. I must have been in about the third grade, and I had my own set of strange behaviors. I still sucked my thumb, for instance. In fact, I sucked both of my thumbs, and everyone knew it. But somehow, I still had friends on the playground and wasn’t ever ostracized.

This girl, though…

One day, she came up to me on the playground and handed me a note, then ran away while I read it. The note said something like, “I’d like to be your friend.” Or maybe, “Can I be your friend?”

You can probably guess where this is going.

Was I compassionate and kind? Did I invite the strange girl—who had bravely reached out to me and to no one else—to join us on the playground? Did I say, “yes, of course, you can be my friend”? You know already I did not. In fact, I didn’t think twice about it. I remember crumpling up her carefully written note, tossing it away, and then going back to running around with my girlfriends on the playground until the bell rang. I don’t think I even glanced in her direction.

I’ve lived with my actions ever since, and I’ve thought of that moment many times. I hope that girl grew up to have friends and family and a feeling of connection. I’ve been able to find all of those things, but still a pang exists for that moment of cruelty. Little girl, wherever you are—I’m deeply sorry.

Okay, time for the prompt.

1. Write a story about some form of childhood cruelty.

2. The cruelty does not have to be huge, major, incredibly dramatic.

3. If “cruelty” doesn’t speak to you, choose something else, something with less power. You can write about a child who stole something. A child who did one wrong thing. A child who talks back. A child who gets in trouble for something they did not do.

4. The point is: Childhood.

5. Post your story in the comments, 400 words or less if you want me to read it.

   Note: The strange girl from my elementary school—her name came to me! And so I looked her up on the google machine. Guess what? She’s fine! I can sleep at night again!

   Note #2: A teeny tiny story of mine was published this past week over at FlashFlood. It’s called Freytag’s Triangle. For the complete 2026 FlashFlood Journal list, go here. Many, many stories to read! To learn more about FlashFlood—and perhaps enter one of your pieces next year—look here.