Tag Archives: writing prompt

Story A Day May #31

Woo hoo! Totally did it! Even with the six days I missed, I’m pretty darn happy with how the month went. Sometimes, I get so wrapped up in my created fantasy world writing that I forgot, or more often feel, that I have no other stories inside me. It has been refreshing to let go of that space and get out of my head, and it has given me the added bonus of boosting my much needed final revision/editing of the last six chapters of my novel. Thanks so much to everyone who has been following along this month. I’m sure many of you already know how amazingly (and needlessly!) scary it can be to throw your fiction out into the world, which is what makes these past four weeks even more wonderful. Enjoy the last story of May, and I’ll have a progress report in the next couple of days on whatever I feel like writing about. 🙂

May 31, 2015

The kettle whistled. She turned the burner knob off quickly, knowing that the louder it became, the more likely the dog was to bark. The dog did not care for the high-pitched, insistent squeal of steam.

A lavender teabag lay nestled at the bottom of the ceramic mug. It wasn’t a small mug, although she had one of those brown hotel mugs, taken once out of a want to always have one of the plain, almost Middle Ages looking item. Apt to drink out of it while reading fantasy novels or imagining fantastical characters who carried swords. So simple, the shape of a mug or teacup. Simple and pleasing. This one wasn’t over sized either, not that she didn’t have plenty of those kind.

A red glaze, warm in tone, colored this mug. She liked it for its reminiscent upside-down bell shape and the smoothness of its surface. She liked the art of making hot tea, and the vessel must reflect the mood.

This particular evening, she felt contemplative. Settled and content. A long day after little sleep turned less exhaustive by a simple yet delicious dinner, and time spent playing tug-of-war with the dogs in the cooling evening air. She’d picked a sprig of lavender from the garden, just to rub the leaves so she could smell it on her fingers. The fresh sprig rested on the kitchen windowsill, reminding her again of her imagined world and all those characters swirling about her head.

She added sugar to the mug, and poured steaming water from the red kettle. The fragrant tea begging to be tasted, though it would have to wait a few minutes. There is simply no rushing tea.

Photo May 31, 10 00 03 PM


Story A Day May #30

Two bitty bits of flash fiction today. I’m currently in a crazed state as I was cleaning up my iTunes and decided to go ahead and update my phone as well … and now my phone is in recovery mode, so I’m going to post this and then continue to quietly freak out. 🙂 Enjoy!

May 30, 2015

Rush Hour Traffic

             “Wow! Look at that!”

I pointed with my right index finger. My husband followed the line of my finger as I stared at the sculptured shrubbery of the high end jewelry store parking lot.

“Yeah, that’s been there.”

“I’ve never noticed it. I thought it was a giant butterfly before I noticed the horse. That’s cool,” I said, still peering out of the window while we sat in traffic.

“Yep. It’s a Pegasus. I think it’s a Pegasus. Or a unicorn? No, because Pegasus’ don’t have horns, do they?” he said.

“Uh, nooo,” I said.

“”Cause unicorns fart rainbows and vomit cotton candy and all that crap.”

“Yes. That’s exactly what they do. Gosh, honey, everyone knows that.”

 

Strange Beliefs

             “Elyssa thinks that mice grow up to be rats,” said Ann.

“She does not,” said Erin.

Ann nodded, laughing. “She really does. I’ll prove it.”

She walked to the phone and paged for their coworker to come to the cosmetics counter. Ann started telling Erin different stories about their manager. It was a few minutes before Elyssa made it over to them, and by that time both Erin and Ann were laughing loudly.

“What’s up?” asked Elyssa.

“You seriously don’t think mice grow up to be rats, do you?” asked Erin.

“I don’t care what you guys say, I still believe that,” said Elyssa.


Story A Day May #22

I had a long and weird conversation with a customer at work today, (the things random strangers will say!) so that is the reason for today’s bit of fictional exchange. 😄


May 22, 2015

Thud
Jonathan looked up from the screenplay he was reading. He glanced at the new one that had just landed on his desk, then glanced at his partner.

“What’s this?”

“You wanted a different screenplay for our next project,” said Adam. “Here it is.”

Jonathan set the one in his hands aside and grabbed the other one. “‘Rejection Slip’. This doesn’t sound like sci-fi.”

“It’s a comedy.”

“Okay, and I clearly remember saying that I was tired of doing crass comedies. I want something with substance.”

“This has substance,” said Adam. “It’s about a single professor who gives out rejection slips after bad blind dates instead of telling the girls he doesn’t want to see them again.”

“Oh, well, that makes it sound so much better,” said Jonathan. He tossed it to his partner. “Lemme guess, guy meets girl, guy gives girl a slip, but she rejects his rejection, or she gives him one at the same time, they try to one-up each other, and eventually,” he gasped, “they fall in love?”

“Okay, okay. But sci-fi? Ugh.” Adam’s face lit up. “Wait … what if the guy in this movie is a robot?”

“That’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not. Robots are funny. Haven’t you ever seen a robot?”

Jonathan stared at him. “Have you? Besides your Roomba?”

“That thing is hilarious.”

“So what’s your problem with science fiction? Or for that matter, fantasy or drama?”

Adam waved his arms around. “Sci-fi always has bugs. I hate giant bugs. Dramas are too dramatic. What do you want? The next goofy kid with a magic wand movie?”

“Abosultely. Go find me that.”


Story A Day May #21

Using the

www.writingexercises.co.ukwebsite again today, as I’m again writing on break at work and have just a little time to knock something out. (I might be a bit of a procrastinator.) I guess it’s good that I don’t get off work until 12:15am, and actually have the office to myself unlike if I worked early. 🙂

And, not really knowing the exact mechanics of water wells, besides digging a giant hole and fishing water out of it, we’ll all just pretend that the following bit of fiction is ‘technically correct’.


May 21, 2015

Random First Line Prompt:

There was a legend about the well in the garden. All the children knew it. They grew up hearing about it from Old Mother Mabel. She used to speak in hushed tones, telling the tales of the nymph and water elves that lived at the bottom of the well, deep underground. Every child knew that you had to toss a coin in for good luck every time you passed. The nymph blessed their village with rain and good crops.

Old Mother Mabel picked her way over the worn forest path, knobby walking stick tapping on the ground. She soon reached the clear spring that ran along her property. The woman stood on the bank, and grinned at the coins shimmering among the rocks. No one ever knew that the well was fed by her spring.

First Line of Dialogue Prompt:

“You embarrassed me this evening.”

Sally trailed behind her mother, who was walking with quick steps, the click of her heels echoing on the marble floor. Sally carried her shoes; her tiny feet hurt, and papa had said that she could take them off.

Papa waited at the bottom of the steps, speaking with their driver. He was finishing a cigar. Mother didn’t let him smoke in the house. He glanced up, smiling at them, but then caught the look of misery on Sally’s round face. When her mother met him beside the car, she proceeded to tell him how his daughter completely embarrassed her and the family. In front of Everyone!

Sally walked over the gravel driveway, not caring that her white tights would get dirty. Papa came over and picked her up. He peered at her in only the way a father could.

“What did you say that was just so awful, my baby?”

“Auntie Clementine asked mother what she was doing Sunday morning. She said they should go out for brunch. I said that mother couldn’t.”

“Oh? Why can’t your mother have brunch?”

“Because Sunday is bloody mary breakfast day.” Sally’s little face wrinkled in hard thought. “Papa, what’s a bloody mary?”


Story A Day May #17

Not really sure about this one today. Inspired by a little bit of spontaneous/obsessive cleaning in the office at my work. I s’pose it is more poem-y, free-form than a story. Who cares, right? Maybe someone, but I’m cool with it.

 

May 17, 2015

I found two more. We had three, but I found two more hiding in the trashy junk stuffed in the desk organizer.

Pink, Purple, Red, Teal, and Blue. Five gel pens, all together now. Multi-colored click tops peeking out from the first section of the organizer.

Scissors in the back. Tall. Red and black handle complimenting its black plastic home.

Highlighters next. Lime Green and Fluorescent Orange. Neon Pink … two Neon Pink. One big. One small. Left side suits it best, I think, in a close-knit family unit of blinding color.

And treasure for me. Dug out among the heaping pile of old and crumbling rubber bands, crusty paper clips, tiny screwdrivers, a half dozen mechanical pencils, random keys forgotten for years, a handful of tarnished pennies, and the bits of detritus that collect in the bottom of things–three shiny coins for the taking. 

 


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