15 Minute Writing Prompt — A Fun Exercise for Writers.

Let’s see what you come up with. Leave a link to your prompt story in the comments below.

Eye Contact: Write about two people seeing each other for the first time.

Celia dipped her pen back in the ink pot at the corner of her desk and waited until the drip suspended on the tip elongated, coalesced, and plopped back down into the rest. Writing this way ticked her off, but she needed money for her trip to New Mexico, and she would rather scratch out faux-antique documents at her grandfather’s book shop than stock shelves at the Safeway. Another dip, wait, drop, and she finished the curlicue on a ridiculously complex P.

The chime over the door sounded, and she dropped the pen onto its stand with a sigh. The drawn out process of writing that P felt like her summer. Boring. Eons long. If this were a romance novel,  she thought as she made her way to the front of the shop, that would be a hot guy with muscles and a rakish smile looking to spend $1 million on a rare book.

The man who shuffled his feet just in side the door was twenty-something, but that’s where the similarities between Celia’s imagination and reality stopped.

“Can I help you?” she asked. She stopped at the corner of the counter a safe twelve feet away from the customer. Her grandfather always warned her about maniacs. Crazy men who liked to grab young women. Celia, who had been there done that at college and handled it just fine with a well-placed knee, didn’t share his fears. Besides, the guy looked like a stiff breeze could take him out.

Pale fingers twisted near his waist, and his head bobbed around a bit as he took in the shelves and book displays to either side. “Maybe,” he said in a voice almost too soft to hear. “I’m looking for an old… well, ancient… It’s a rare, really special… I mean…”

Wow. The poster child for social anxiety, Celia thought and pasted what she hoped was a friendly, comforting smile on her face. She took a step closer and crossed her hands in front of her.

“It’s hard to explain,” he said and then looked up into her eyes.

A kaleidoscope of colored lights dazzled across the ten feet that separated them. His eyes, dark and light and illuminated in some way, grabbed hold of her consciousness and seemed to suck all thought from her mind.

Holy shit… was all she managed before her thoughts skipped away from her. Images of mountains, deep forests, eyes gleaming from dark caves, blinding rays of some other sun flashed through her mind.

“I’m sorry,” he said and squeezed his eyes closed tightly. He turned and fumbled at the doorknob.

Celia blinked and her grandfather’s shop came back into focus. Her feet carried her forward. “Wait.” She held out a hand.

His hand paused on the door. His feet came to a stop, and he shifted his body slightly back toward her. He did not look up. “Can you help me?” His voice came as soft as eiderdown, as deep as nightmare seas. He rubbed a hand across his eyes. “Help me.”

Well, there you go. 15 minutes. What did you come up with?