Three Minutes Getting Older

Normanday #61: Blow out the candles and make a wish.

 

Write for three minutes about…

 

…a birthday party.

 

Email what you wrote to woof at bright dot net by the end of the day February 3 (put “Norman Likes Chocolate Cake” in the subject line). I’ll post as many of my favorite entries as I want next Monday. Include your first name (or, even better, use a pen name) and age (unless you’re tortoise-old). If you’re a published children’s or young adult writer, include a biography to be posted with your entry.

 

Here is the single entry from last week when I asked you to write for three minutes…

 

…about anything.

 

 

Cranberly

Skate Castle
Wind whips through your hair as you bend your knees to make the turn. One leg is outstretched just a little. You feel like you are flying although your two feet are firmly on the ground. Well, your two feet are firmly planted in a pair of four wheel roller skates with a rubber stopper on the toes. You zoom on the super glossy wood floor. Loud music fills the air. Lights swirl around you in bright, sparkly patterns. What is that song that you hear? Is it retro or is it now? You have no idea. But it’s something you would never listen to while driving in your car or on your headphones. It’s something more pop and more disco than what you enjoy on a normal occasion. But this isn’t a normal occasion. You are at a skating rink. And the pop disco music feels right.

People zoom past you. You can barely make out their features. Some are so fast and so talented. Some people go backwards. A few people go slowly, hugging the wall. You started out that way at first. But now you fly, making quick turns and feeling the wind whip through your hair. You spot your friend a few feet away. She has a silly grin that is part amusement and part amazed. You laugh at her. She laughs back. You don’t know why. Everything seems funny.

After a few more laps, you begin to tired. You see the snack bar and beckon to your friend. You skate to the exit, where the glossy floor meets the carpet. You trip on the carpet and feel your friend’s hands grab the back of your shirt as she tries to slow down and not fall. Next you walk awkwardly to the snack bar. You are too lazy to take off your skates. You walk with heavy, wheeled feet. You fish out the crumpled bills and change, warm in your pocket. You buy two sodas and one hot pretzel to share. You sit at a nearby table, watching everyone zoom or fall around the rink. A kid is crying as his mom puts his shoes back on. He isn’t ready to leave the Castle. Some girls are laughing at a nearby table as a teenage boy sticks french fries up his nose. You eat your soda and pretzel, trying to regain your energy. The DJ announces it’s time for slow skate—when couples can skate holding hands. You roll your eyes at your friend, glad you are already off the floor. You know after slow skate, the DJ will announce it’s time for the Hokey Pokey to get everyone back on the floor. You finish your soda and half a pretzel and your friend announces she has to go to the bathroom. You tell her to hurry up because you don’t want to miss the Hokey Pokey.

You’re 12. You’re happy. You have your whole life ahead of you. The music starts, you softly skate onto the dance floor, forming a line. You put your left foot in…