day 1: select a book at random in the room. find a novel or short story, copy down the last sentence and use this line as the first line of your new story.
"You need to give your father a hug", He said. I appreciate his concern, however his involvement in my father and I's relationship, is pestering to say at the least. I sighed, as I slouched deeper into the leather chair that sat in the vacant, soon to be forgotten room. I hated this place, yet I still sensed an overwhelming amount of nostalgia come over me as I peered at the chipping, cardinal paint on the walls. It takes me back to when I was a little girl, maybe around five or six, and my father was standing on top of his wobbling, not-so reliable stair ladder whilst I sat in this same leather seat, watching him intensely.
My father currently much older and not as charismatic and optimistic as he used to be stood by the front door. I don't want to see, regardless of what Charlie says, I am not giving that sad excuse of a Father a 'hug'. Charlie and my father should be grateful I came to begin with. I feel sick to my stomach almost just waiting for time to pass by.
I tap my freshly-done manicure against the wooden table that stood up next to me.
"I don't need to give anybody a hug, especially not that monst-" I began but was soon interrupted by said man, my father, slamming his calloused, shaky fingers against the dark door frame.
"You may consider me a monster, but if it weren't for me you wouldn't be here." My father said, looking at me sternly with angst in his eyes and other mixed emotions.
"Maybe that would've been better" I comment snidely, checking out my awesome nails.
"Don't you star-" He started to raise his voice when Charlie intervened.
"Walter, just, just stop. You know no matter what you say or do she'll have something snarky to say in response." He commented, which was true. I believed it was true, anyway.
My father gave up, and exhaled a deep breath.
"You're right... Charlie" He mutters, walking into the room he was previously in.
"It's... no use. It's no use." He mumbles, as he disappears into the other room.
I breath a relief, and go back to examining my nails when Charlie stomps up to me.
"You need to fucking stop that, you know? It's not good on his health. And it's not helping him or you, so just knock it off" He practically spits in my face.
Angry, I stand up, and pick up my bag.
"I will be letting myself out now.." I flicked my tongue. I hated Charlie sometimes.
"You wouldn't." He replied.
"Watch me." I said, as I closed the door behind me.
As I got into my new car, I closed my eyes for a second. I can never forgive my father for what he did. Never.