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Wiley Wednesday Writing Prompt

I got this prompt off the servicescape.com site. They have well over three hundred story prompts. The prompt I wrote from was this: It wasn't until my father pushed me off the cliff that I believed he was telling the truth. You will see from my entry below that I took it in an odd direction, which is the story of my writing life. Hope you enjoy it.


"Sit down, Evan," Dad said.

I looked up from my phone. "What?"

"I said, sit down and put the damn phone away," he grumbled.

"I'm just texting Austin back," I said, my fingers flying over the keys.

Dad took a step toward me and my head jerked in his direction. He was a big man, six-foot-four of mountain topped with a shock of red hair. "I'm not going to ask you again."

I shoved the phone into my pocket, feeling it buzz against my leg as text after text from Austin came in, but given what Dad had done to my last phone, I didn't dare get it back out to answer.

Dad pointed at the couch. "Take a seat."

I walked over to it and fell onto the couch like a chainsawed tree.

Dad scowled, but didn't say anything. Instead, he took a seat on his brown, leather recliner. He waited until he had my attention, then spoke. "There's no easy way to tell you this--"

"I'm adopted," I blurted, cutting off whatever he'd been about to say.

Dad's brow furrowed. "Why would you think that?"

I pointed at his head, then pulled at my black hair.

Dad glanced at the ceiling and muttered an oath under his breath.

"Are you asking Loki to give you patience?" I'd been using that phrase ever since seeing the Avengers.

Dad shook his head. "No," he said. "I've moved onto Odin. Loki isn't strong enough to handle the job."

I chuckled. Dad didn't. I cleared my throat. "You said you wanted to talk to me."

"Yes, there's something I've been meaning to tell you and it's going to be hard to believe, but it's the truth."

A kaleidoscope of butterflies took flight in my stomach. If I wasn't adopted, what could possibly be so important? "Are you sick? Are you and mom getting a divorce?" I asked as he opened his mouth to speak.

"No, I'm fine," he said. "And no, your mother and I are not getting divorced."

"Is mom sick?" my voice cracked as fear embraced me and left me battling a cold sweat.

"What? No!" Dad grimaced. "Your mother is fine."

"Am I sick?"

"Oh for Odin's sake! No one is sick. This isn't turning out how I wanted it to. Perhaps I'd better show you," he said.

Dad led me outside to the cliff overlooking the sea. Waves crashed against the shore and seagulls squawked.

"Beautiful isn't it?" he asked.

"Yeah, what did you want to tell me?" I asked.

Dad took a deep breath and said, "You're not human." Then he pushed me over the cliff to prove it.

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