In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Call Me Ishmael.”
Like most Friday nights, I wait for Poppa by the parlor window. I cain’t hardly stop my excitement as his old green Buick pulls into the driveway. Like all Friday nights we all is doin’ somethin’ special. Momma, Poppa, Sis and me is goin’ to the Red Crow for hotdogs and to the drive-in movie. I don’t remember what is viewin’ and it don’t matter. I jest know Mamma made a big grocery sack fulled of popcorn and we has to leave ‘fore it gets dark.
Poppa sees me through the window and smiles. I surely do love his smile. I wished I could cetch it and put it in a bottle so I could look at it any time I want. His smile makes me feel happy all over and makes my toes tingle. I do love my Poppa.
My Poppa opened the door and stepped inside and jest as I was ready to jump into his arms, the phone rang. My Momma runned to the door holdin’ the telephone. She hands it to my Poppa. Then she picks me up and starts cryin’ into my shirt. I was afraid cause I didn’ know what was happenin’. I started cryin’ too. My Poppa’s face turned white.
Most Friday nights we go to the movie. I knew right then and there, this were’nt goin’ to be like most Friday nights.
We are suppose to write a story using the first sentence of our favorite book as the first sentence. I decided to use the first sentence of a book I am getting ready to read, The Sweetness by Sande Boritz Berger, so I won’t be persuaded by the story.