Writing Prompt 8: Scar stories

The past two weeks have been a wild ride, and I’ve fallen behind.  (Go figure.)  But here we go!

Prompt 8: Every scar tells a story.  Write the story of a scar you know well — yours or someone else’s.

I bruise and scar like no one’s business.  For example, I scar from paper cuts.  I have a wide variety of scars in a wide variety of places.  Some are silly (like falling on a treadmill while it was still moving and skinning my knee), some are more dramatic (like accidentally stabbing my knee with a knife while at band camp and needing to get stitches), but my favorite is a long thin scar that runs the length of my left pinkie.

I don’t remember how old I was, maybe nine or ten, and I was camping with my grandparents and my cousin.  We were sitting around the campfire, and I must have been leaning forward in my chair, looking at the fire.  Campfires have always been rather enchanting for me.  I find them mystical and magical and calming and timeless.  I think I got lost in this fire, much like how Lucy Pevensie does while talking with Mr. Tumnis in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.  I remember looking at the fire and then suddenly being on the ground in front the of the metal campfire ring.  So, logically, I must have leaned too far in my chair and tipped forward.  When I stood up and took stock of what happened (apart from feeling really embarrassment), I noticed my knee was scuffed, and my left pinkie was burnt.  In falling, I must have touched that finger against the hot fire pit ring, though I’m truthfully not sure as the scar is a thin line and not a splotch.

It’s aged really well these past ten or so years, and is really soft on my pinkie; I think it looks rather elegant as it follows the curve of my pinkie.


What about you guys?  What are the stories behind some of your scars?

Ciao for now,



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