A Cold Room

     Writing prompts are my favorite! They are such a fun way to get the ideas flowing and the imagination running. They are like the hand that whacks the giant, boxy T.V. that is your brain, starting up your screen (does anyone remember those?). The point is, they are fantastic, and if you didn't understand the former analogy, which made me unexplainably happy, then I hope you will just accept that. I will insert the prompt above into the scene it inspired. Write in the comments (before you read my interpretation of it) what story it inspired in you. Then after you read it tell me what you think and I will reply what I think of yours. :)

Mary

    The room was cold. The room was damp. The room was still. The only sound to be heard was the ticking of a clock and the quiet breathing of an anxious, middle aged woman, waiting for a particular person. The room was small, and excluding the ticking clock, the gray walls were bare abandoned and dirty. A black metal table and two folding chairs were the only furnishes to be seen. The woman checked her watch and then glanced at the clock as she drummed her fingers. She wished time wouldn't move so slow, but at the same time she was glad that it did. For she had no idea what she would say when he did come. What did he expect her to say, she wondered. Did he want the explanation she didn't have? Or did he just desire an 'I'm sorry'. Was she ready for that? her head swirled in currents of questions. Nervously the woman opened her purse for the hundredth time, just to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. At a soft knock on the door, her head snapped up expectantly.

Johnny

     The car was boring. The car was slow. The car was red. That was the only thing the boy liked about it, although he liked red airplanes better. Airplanes were much more fun than cars. Airplanes were fast. Cars were slow. The boy wondered why they had been it the slow, boring car so long. He was usually home by now, for his house wasn't far from school. 

    "Mom!" he called, "Where are we going?" The woman in the front seat answered by saying that they were going to meet family. 

     "What family? Are we going to pick up Uncle Timmy from the airport?" The boy was excited. He liked the uncle a lot, but he liked the airport even more. The only problem with it was that it took so long to get there. But no, the woman said that they were going to see family that was only his and she warned the boy not to call her 'mom' when they got there. 

Together

     Johnny entered the cold room and saw Mary staring at him, wide eyed, with an almost frightened look on her face. Mary choked out a sound that was a mixture of a burst of laughter and a sob. The woman, who Johnny had thought was his mother, walked in with him and Mary would say nothing in her presence, for the woman appeared so sophisticated and put together. Mary tried hard to not to compare herself against the woman. But Johnny asked the woman what they were doing there. She told him that he must sit in the chair and talk to his family and that she would be in the hall, with that she shut the door. Johnny climbed onto the hard chair.
     "Hi" Mary said. His eyes were cold and lifeless as he stared at her. "You have no idea who I am, do you?"
     "Nope."
     Mary, who had been so nervous and stressed about this meeting, was heartbroken. As she studied the indifferent face across form her.
     "I um... I brought something for you." She stuttered as she pulled three items from her purse. Johnny's bored face stretched into a grin that reached deep into his eyes as Mary placed them on the table. A chocolate bar, a bag of skittles, and a shiny, red toy airplane, it appeared, was all she needed to get this little boys attention!
     "Wow!" smiled Johnny. He looked at Mary so gratefully that all her previous worries seemed to evaporate and her courage swelled.
     "Johnny...I am your mother."