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The Voice (formerly known as The Bluffs Voice), published by Bluffs Community News, is  the Only Local Paper  covering the entire length of Toronto's Kingston Road!

First publishyed in December 2017 asSouth Scarborough’s newest community newspaper,  founded on the principles of solutions journalism and community engagement for positive impact. Published 12 times a year, distributed for free by volunteers  and  paid for by our advertisers.

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Creative Writing Prompts - He Couldn’t Eat Another Bite...

Posted 1/22/2018

by Genevieve Clovis

     John sat at the dinner table listening to his parents and grandparents talking and laughing while he pushed his food around his plate searching for an arrangement that made it look less full.

    Everyone else had finished their meals. Even Sara and Ashley had empty plates, but John couldn’t eat another bite. His stomach was full to bursting and certainly wouldn’t allow even the thought of any more food.

    John wished he’d eaten the icky stuff first. The salt fish and the now cold fried plantain. Sara always said it was best to eat what you didn’t like first but John didn’t appreciate her strategy until now. He knew what was coming but there was no way for him to avoid it. If only his grandparents were like normal people and let their dogs in the house, he could slip them his food and everyone would be happy. But as ever the dogs remained outside.

    Maybe it would be okay. Maybe they wouldn’t notice his unfinished food, or maybe they wouldn’t care.

    John felt his grandma’s eyes fall on him like she had been reading his mind.

    “Finish your food, John.” She said and all the conversations stopped, and all the eyes turned to John.

    He made himself look as small as he could even his voice was small as he said, “but I’m full.”

    Sara closed her eyes shaking her head slightly and Ashley cringed. They knew what was coming even before Grandma pushed out her chair. She walked around the table stopping beside John and with one boney finger she jabbed him in the gut. John flexed but nothing was a match for one of Grandma’s pokes.

    “There’s still some room in there,” she said looking down at him with her perpetual scowl.

    “But I’ll throw up if I eat any more.” John whined near tears even though he knew it would do him no good. Even though he knew his evening would be spent at the dinner table in a battle of wills he would inevitably lose.

 

At the Cliffside Village Writer’s Group, the creative energy is high and the writing enthusiasm is contagious. To create our stories, we work in twenty minute bursts using prompts and a stream of consciousness process. For more information contact Genevieve Clovis at cliffsidevillagebooks@gmail.com.