Daily Writing Prompt: What was the best compliment you’ve received?
The TeaseF ranz by Franz von Stuck
When I was about 16 I was playing guitar in rocks bands. You’ll have to take my word for it that I used to be able to rock those tight clothes and even though my face could stop a clock, when I was playing the guitar nobody was really looking at the mess stuck in the front of my head.
So it is easy to remember the best compliment I ever got because there hasn’t been a lot of them. But still. If you only get a few this is the one you want:
I was working part time in a Mall at a T-shirt shop and because it was the first shop near the entrance way the ” Mall Walkers ” who lived at the retirement home got in and out of their van near our door. Some of the would stop in to say hi or come in if the weather was bad to wait for their van if the weather was too cold.
There was this one older gentleman who used to stop in and say hi and goodbye and sometimes we talked about movies and books and my writing. I really liked him because he had deep posh British accent and he looked just like Douglas Fairbanks JR.
My Grandmother and my Grand Aunts loved Fairbanks Jr to smithereens so yep. I knew who he was.
One day I was wearing a dress and I had gotten my hair and makeup done because I was going to be in a family portrait after work and who should walk in and see the new me?
My Favorite Mall Walker, that’s who.
He walked right up to the counter and smiled at me and then he said in that beautiful voice of his,
” Anita, you make that dress look
Oh. My. God.
I had never felt pretty before that day and I never really did after that day. But I do remember what it was like to feel pretty at that moment and when I think about it now, I toss my hair over my shoulder just a little and I blush.
A wreathed infant Dionysos sits astride a leopard, an animal sacred to the god. The tall satyr blowing his horn at the front leads the procession to the right in search of the next vineyard. Etcher: Wenceslaus Hollar (Bohemian, Prague 1607–1677 London) Artist: After Pieter van Avont (Flemish, 1599–1652)
In the Spring, Nature goes a little crazy
like a teenagers and adults who take a look at that one face,
brush up against that one arm in a crowded room
and their blood starts to boil in the center of their gut and goes roaring through their
veins leaving them breathless and flushed and wondering if there is toilet paper stuck
to their shoe or a wad of ketchup or chocolate coating their front teeth, did their
underwear have rips in it, did their socks match?
And if it doesn’t occur to them in that moment but it will one day
this was the only time they ever felt lust and love at the same exact
and that they didn’t care how lost they were and that they didn’t care if anyone would
ever find them and bring them back to their senses again.