It was a Sunday in June when Harold decided to throw everything his daughter owned onto the front lawn, because she wouldn’t clean up her bedroom. That she was a sixty-year-old grandmother herself, didn’t matter to Harold. He’d had enough of, as he put it, “Looking at that pigsty every time he walked past her room.” That he was visiting only for a few hours, also didn’t matter to Harold. In his mind, he was still a middle-aged widower, just trying to raise a young girl on his own.
1. I sat down to write this with nothing in my head except “Harold” and “Sunday.” A perfect example of me not being in control.
2. I have no plans to write Adult Content fiction pieces for this challenge, but it happens, and it’s sometimes beyond my control if I’m to remain authentic to my muse. I will place a warning in the title of those posts which fall under the AC category.