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Simspiration Prompts Repost

Happy Thursday! (Thursday's nearly as good as Friday, isn't it?)

I'm reposting the two responces I have to some of this week's sim_spiration prompts.



Prompt 5/4/2010
Quote: “An injured friend is the bitterest of foes.” – Thomas Jefferson
Green eyes flashed with anger. “You sold your own sister! And for what? A good mark on your final exam?”

Matthew answered with a shrug. “She had it coming to her. Maybe if she hadn’t strung along all those men…”

“You took advantage of her situation for your own gain. What kind of a brother are you?”

“Oh, please. Don’t go all high and mighty on me, Philomena. You would have done something similar if the situation had presented itself.”

“No, I wouldn’t have. Have you talked to Henri lately? She’s miserable, and half dead on her feet trying to keep up with the baby and Professor Hutchins’ demands.”

“That’s not my problem. Henrietta’s made her bed, and now she needs to lie in it.”

Phily could feel her jaw clenching, and she fought back the bitter words that were threatening to spew from her mouth.

“Is that all?” Matthew asked in a dismissive tone.

“Yes,” she replied tightly. “I’ll be leaving with the Thayers for SimEurope shortly. We’ll be gone at least a year; maybe two depending on how things go.”

Matthew nodded. “I trust that you’ll behave yourself while you’re over there.”

“Of course,” she sneered. “I wouldn’t want you selling me off to the highest bidder.”

“Philomena…”

“No, Matthew. You can’t condescend to me anymore. I see what you are, even if you’ve got Mama and Papa snowed. You’re a selfish, spoiled brat who doesn’t care about anything but yourself. I’ll never be able to forgive you for what you did to Henri. And you had better watch yourself.”

“Are you threatening me?” Matthew asked, his voice menacing and shocked at the same time.

“Yes, I am. You’re going to slip up at some point. And when you do, I’m going to delight in your downfall.”

_____________________________________________________________

Prompt 5/5/2010
Keyword: Wonder
Matilda was tired, sore, and she desperately wanted a bath. But as soon as the midwife handed her the small bundle, her only thoughts were of the dark-haired baby in her arms.

“Hello, little one,” she cooed. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

A soft knock sounded at the door. “May I come in?” asked a very nervous man, who had been pacing in the parlor for hours.

“Of course,” Matilda smiled. “Come meet your son.”

“Our son?” he sputtered, coming into the room and tripping over his own feet in the process.

“Yes, our beautiful son. He’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Robert approached the bed and leaned over to see the baby. His heart melted as the small, dark eyes gazed into his own.

“What are you thinking?” asked Matilda.

“I’m in awe of this little…person. He’s a miracle.”

“I know,” she replied, kissing the silky hair on the top of the baby’s head. “My wee little man. Have you given any thought to a name?”

“Would you mind if we called him for my father?”

“Not at all. Horace is a little old fashioned, but…”

“No, I meant to ask if we could call him George.”

Matilda paused for a moment before she smiled. “What about George Horace Alcott?”

Robert looked at his wife, wonder written all over his face. “Perfect.”

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