Finals or Tortoises

“Hmmmm… That’s interesting.” Melissa talked to herself as she read the new Author’s Pain prompt.  She was sitting in the front room of her apartment with her roommate Tara, who was supposedly studying for finals. A glance at her computer showed her social networking, looking through her friend’s photo album instead.

“Do I want to know?” she asked, knowing Melissa, it could be something she cared less about, but sometimes, it was just enough of an excuse to take a break from ‘studying.’

“Well, you know those writing prompts I usually use to write short stories? I spend hours trying how to figure out how to fit a story into 300 words or less and you give me a cool ten word story in ten seconds?” Melissa didn’t wait for her reply. “Well, the rules and word count are slightly different, but the general principle is the same. Today’s is to write a story or a poem that include: a painting, a photo album, a tortoise, and a campground.”

“Wait, what?” Tara looked up from her computer, and stared at her. Melissa repeated the words. She already had a story in mind, but Tara’s ideas always were always good, even if they were just for a laugh.

Tara thought for a moment before telling her story. “Well, what about a story about a girl, who went to a campground, found a tortoise, and they were going through a photo album and found the picture they took of it and a painting someone made of the tortoise?”

Melissa shook her head and smiled, “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“Or! Better yet, what about a painter, who collects photos in a photo album so she can paint them, and she takes a picture of a campground…”

“With a pet tortoise?”

“With a pet tortoise…”

“Named Harry?”

“Who sits on her shoulder…”

“And watches her paint…”

“And bobs it head up and down… when he thinks she’s done a good job on a painting!” Tara finished. The girls busted into laughter.

As Tara turned back to her social networking, Melissa sat back. A tortoise named Harry, that wasn’t a bad start. She started to type:

Once upon a time, there was a Tortoise named Harry, who dreamed of being a painter. There was only one problem though: he didn’t have fingers to hold the brush. So he went on a long journey to find someone who would hold a paintbrush for him.

He traversed deserts, rivers, highways, and roundabouts. He trudged through rain, sleet, snow and hail. Finally, Harry the tortoise made it to a campground in a park that smelled like rotten eggs. Harry sighed. He’d never find someone to hold a paintbrush for him here. As he walked past a vast amount of people, he saw a woman on a bench with her camera, trying to find the perfect angle. He crawled as fast as he could over to her and tugged on her pant leg.

The woman looked down at him and smiled. She picked him up and placed him on her photo album. “I need help choosing the location of my next painting. I have all of these beautiful places, but don’t know where to start.”

Harry’s heart fluttered. He looked at the pictures, and crawled over to a place that dropped off into a beautiful canyon.

“Great choice. Grand Canyon it is.” She packed up her camera and pulled out her canvas and paints. “So what’s your name, little fellow?”

Harry the tortoise looked around for a way to tell her. He got excited as he dipped his tail into the paint and he scripted his name in small letters in the bottom corner of the canvas.

“Hi Harry, I’m Sarah. You have a very steady tail. Ever think about picking up painting?”

As his little head bobbed up and down, she handed the canvas to him, and his own pallet. “You don’t need a brush. Have at it." She pulled out another canvas and started prepping it.

Harry nervously dipped his tail into the paint and sketched a beautiful outline depicting the scene in front of him. After he was done, he picked up a leaf and held it out to Sarah, who pulled some floss out of her bag and tied it to his tail. Harry used the different parts of the leaf as different brush sizes.

He finished with a tiny H.T. in the bottom corner.

Sarah smiled at his painting. She picked him up and put him on her shoulder. “Look what I painted.”

Harry bobbed his head up and down. It was a painting of him.

Harry was a happy tortoise. He and Sarah painted, traveled often, and followed their dreams.

“So, what do you think?” Melissa asked, showing her the final story.

Her only response? "Really, Melissa? Really?"