Here’s our writing prompt number 3! I’m still new to this blog and have yet to be joined in my story sharing, but I have faith some of you will join me soon ❤ It will be tons of fun, I promise! If you are reading this and don’t want to be that first weirdo who joins, invite your friends—your mom, your classmates, your bingo buddies, your creative writing class even! You don’t have to be alone here.
As you’ll see in my introductory post (Click here to view), this blog is for a community of people who enjoy sharing and reading good stories with other people. I write a prompt (and a story of my own that goes with it) and then you can use the comments section to respond to the prompt and read the stories others have contributed. As an alternative, you can share your story on your own blog! Just remember to leave your link in the comments below so we can all still enjoy it 🙂
Enough chit-chat — here’s today’s prompt:
Share a time that YOU had to be the party pooper.
My parents were really into hiking when I was growing up. They had a goal to climb all the 4,000+ footers in the white mountains of New Hampshire, since we lived relatively nearby. (Well a couple hours away, but nothing could stop them). My siblings and I still lived at home during this hobby so we definitely (and usually unwillingly) got dragged into a few of these adventures.
The memory I have tonight is of the time they wanted to get more than one peak under their belts in a single go. It made sense actually because there was a cluster of mountains that met their height standard all together and to only do one at a time would have been silly.
It did require sleeping at the peaks of a couple of them. And they apparently wanted company? Yup, all of us kids were dragged into yet another climb. We were generally good sports once on the trails, often singing the most obnoxious kid tunes we could remember from our childhood. Come to think of it – why did they want us with them? We were kind of an embarrassment. Any of you watch Veggietales as a kid? Songs like “Oh Where Is My Hairbrush” at the tops of our voices were our specialty. Listen to it here.
But this time, things were different. This time, I became the party pooper.
I’ve noticed over the years that my monthly visit from “Aunt Flo” tends to come during outings or vacations. This particular overnight mountain excursion proved to be no different. I should let you know here that my periods were never easy on me in my teens. I got cramps that made me wonder how the labor pains of a pregnant woman could be any worse. I had to just deal with it though. I’ve always been a super private person so even telling my family what was going on was out of the question.
I did make it to the top of the mountain! … the whole while hoping fervently there would be no bears around to sniff my buried feminine products. I think I might have even wrapped them in plastic grocery bags and just buried them as deep as I could manage. Don’t be fooled though—I was in a lot of pain. It was a relief to make it to the camping shelter at the top. I don’t remember if I had any pain killers to help with my cramping but I made it through the night regardless.
Next morning though? Forget privacy. I begged my family to turn around. There was no way I could keep going. I only told my mom what was going on, but she must have at least let my dad in on it, because they both agreed to head back. Thank God for good parents, amiright? But I can’t deny that I was the party pooper that weekend.
Want to listen to some chill vibes as you write your own memory/story? Here’s what I listened to! AlexRainBirdMusic – Tender Love And don’t forget to follow me if you enjoyed my story 🙂