Long Weekend

She thought about the best way to treat the long weekend. Should she go somewhere for a getaway? A nice hotel with a hot tub and a good restaurant nearby would be fun. Or maybe she should stay home, catch up on her sleep and do some much needed cleaning. She had a new book waiting for the cover to be cracked open – she could read and relax. What to do, what to do?

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “long weekend.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

5 thoughts on “Long Weekend”

  1. Long weekends mean prolonged sessions of morning hide n seek under the blankets with my son. They mean having time to savor freshly brewed coffee and reveling in the sweet smells of breakfast, in or out. Long weekends also mean a full house of family and mostly mom and dad arguing about one or the other not hearing what the other said. Maybe a road trip? Maybe some BBQ? Maybe some gambling? My dad loves driving out to Pachanga and testing his luck.

  2. The long weekend appeared to have slid right into Monday morning. Back to the grind, thought Derek holding his head between his hands as he sat up in bed. Memories of last night’s bash at his favorite club, Fire and Ice, resurfaced. A high wattage smile appeared on his lips and lingered as he stretched and made his way to the bathroom.

    Putting his hands under the running faucet, he noticed some writing on his left hand. The realization jolted him into wakefulness, and he quickly removed them. It appeared to be a phone number with a name underneath—Miranda. He stood there trying to remember, and it all came back to him—yes—the raven, long-haired, curvaceous, green-eyed beauty he had met on the dance floor, dancing, oh so, seductively that he had been drawn in like a moth to a flame.

    Energized, he envisioned making plans with Miranda for next weekend, but knew he was getting ahead of himself, so he copied the number on a pad he kept next to his night table. He’d call her tonight and take it from there…

  3. The pain started late Wednesday building through the night until it was almost unbearable by dawn. She got scared enough to call a doctor. He said go to the ER immediately. They took her appendix that night and recovery was a nightmare. It was the longest weekend of her life.

  4. When you’re an oldie every weekend is a long one. Usually it has no beginning, no end. Sometimes it depends on plans of young’uns for whom weekends are still important and inclusion is on the agenda. This emphasizes similarity and diversity to have a lot in common; solidarity and networking are siblings however they appear.

    From a different perspective “long weekend” conjures up good times and “good times” connotes many different pleasurable time-spenders. So it really doesn’t matter to me if a weekend is long or regular. How it’s spent is up to me. I can never abdicate from responsibility.

  5. First came the fever.

    Inexplicably spiked, unrelenting. The child began babbling . Febrile delirium. Medicine box was turned upside down. In the mess on the dining table, one tablet of a forbidden drug was given. Fingers crossed, as others drenched her , sponging. The mattress turned soggy.

    The child opened her eyes. Smiled. Wiped her dripping brow. Whew!!

    Then the old lady called, and called. Again and again. Without any reason. You rush to her bedside, and find her mumbling. Trying to form words. Eyes screaming fear. Fear of death.

    Ambulance shrieking into midnight. Concerned neighbours in nightgowns.

    Sleepy intern taking history. The beep of monitors. Hum of icu.

    Long long weekend.

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