Double Dog Dare

Reedsy WRITING CONTEST #243: Stubborn as a Bull

2. Start your story with someone accepting a dare.

               “I dare you”, said the email. Not exactly, I dare you, but that’s what it implied, and it wasn’t an elementary school dare to eat paste, or a middle school prank to run naked around the house during a slumber party. No, it wasn’t like that. This was more of a self-improvement challenge, a supportive study buddy or work out partner type of dare, and both women wanted to participate, if they could just make the time, if they could just be a bit self-indulgent.

               This would not be the first of these types of dares that the women had proposed to one another since they met and struck up an unlikely friendship, and it likely wouldn’t be the last, but it was the current challenge and each woman wanted the challenge to be successful. Each woman wanted to support the other to develop a positive habit of embracing their creativity, building upon their artistic urges and exploring their own personal stories. Each woman recognized the potential in the other and encouraged each other to immerse themselves in these whimsical activities.

               Previous dares had included a variety of projects: get your tech license, finish your college degree, mentor the local robotics team, learn and practice Zentangle at the weekly art night, get your Masters, get a better job, participate daily in Inktober, write a story during National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). It was the NaNoWriMo dare that had slowed them down. Both women had stories that they had outlined to each other verbally and each wanted to commit the stories to paper, but even with a low weekly word count goal, it became too much like work and wasn’t fun after a few weeks. The novel writing challenge was set aside and life took the women in different directions.  The younger woman moved away to put her Masters degree to use and the older woman transferred to another employer, letting her Masters degree languish in a sluggish market.

               Life continued to move on for both women. Separately, but similarly, they navigated through the transition of new work environments and residential changes. They dealt with family dynamics, good and unpleasant. They struggled through personal loss and the isolation of COVID-19 restrictions. There were stretches of depression and sadness with many gray days for each of them. Communication began to wither as each woman concentrated on just making it to the next day. Neither woman realized the depths the other woman had suffered until a random event reintroduced them to their previous challenges and support. The older woman’s daughter proposed a virtual art night. The group couldn’t meet in person and hadn’t due to social distancing guidelines, but a zoom meeting could be arranged. Who would they invite? The younger woman, the older woman suggested and the daughter agreed. They both wanted, needed, to reconnect with the younger woman. They missed the younger woman more than any of the other art night regulars. They could invite others to participate later if the call was successful.

               A text was sent to the younger woman proposing the virtual art night and a date was set to meet. No art was done that first evening and the conversation topics were shallow as the friendship trust was dusty. The interaction was nonetheless welcome and another gathering was set for the following week. After signing off, the daughter mentioned that the young woman did not seem herself. The inner radiance that had always shown through the young woman’s smile and sparkled through her eyes had dimmed. Was it her work challenges? Was it the distance from home? Was it the complications of the pandemic? The recent loss of her beloved grandmother? The young woman was a thin shell of her former vibrant self which was startling and unsettling to both the older woman and her daughter.

 Over the course of several weeks, the women had reconnected. The interaction was healing for all of them. Art challenges were offered and accepted. Knitting for the daughter, crochet for the young woman, both working through complex patterns to give their work as gifts to others. The older woman drove the conversations and doodled. Work problems were discussed and solutions proposed. Laughter was shared. Each woman had stories to tell about the time they were separated by distance and pandemic. The women were open with each other, chatting over their art projects and revealing even the worst of their moments during their months apart. With these confidences, the older woman was saddened by the younger woman’s suffering, but even worse was how alone the young woman had been through it all.

There were weeks where work obligations and family duties preempted the art night gatherings, but that was expected and accepted. Many months passed happily with leisure interaction and encouragement to finish projects that were started. On random weeks other previous art night participants were invited to join the socializing, but usually it was the core three women and it was satisfying for the soul and soothing for stressed nerves. 

Suddenly and unexpectedly, the daughter was drawn away for an extended personal matter and the art nights stopped abruptly. The older woman felt obligated to disguise her daughter’s absence. Meekly at first the older woman made excuses about cancelling their art nights, but slowly she quit making excuses at all and contact slowed. The art nights drifted into inactivity and the older woman’s emotions grew more troubled. There was the extended worry regarding her daughter’s situation and the grief at once again becoming isolated and alone.

Several months after her daughter’s departure, the older woman gathered the determination to look for distraction and reflected on times that had been happier. Many of those times included art, writing and nature. Many favorite times included the younger woman and the challenges they had presented each other with. The older woman embraced gardening during the day, filling the bird feeders and tending her flower beds. She sketched in her journal and illustrated famous quotes and looked for motivation to document the stories that had been developing in her imagination over the years. She remembered how difficult the NaNoWriMo commitment had been and searched the internet for a smaller, more manageable route to practice her writing until it became more intuitive and enjoyable.

 The young woman was pleasantly surprised by the older woman’s email and read it eagerly. The younger woman had been curious and puzzled about the unexplained disappearance of art night and expected the email to outline what had happened, but those details were not included in the older woman’s message.   The email was short and direct and the young woman found a slow smile growing on her face as she continued to quickly scan through it.

“I’ve found a website that hosts a short story writing competition every week. There are five new prompts on a given theme to choose from. Entry is free and the target word count is an easy thousand to three thousand words.

I think I’ll have a go at it, not to win necessarily, but to get in the practice of finding time to write. It’ll be a good exercise for me. We don’t have to enter every week, only when we have the time or when the prompts compel us. 

What do you think? Want to join me?”

The young woman picked up her phone and responded without hesitation. “You’re on. Double dog dare you for the first week.”