Sorry for the late posting, guys! I’ve been back in the States visiting family so my mind and time has been limited. (As you may see when you read this.) But writing is important and I have to keep at it!! My prompt:
The Skin I’m In
I turned the corner and saw myself at four years old. Not a phantom, but the physical me, on the last day I ever danced.
When I was born, my mother wasn’t surprised at my lack of mortality, but she was livid. My hair grew out into pink waves while my eyes took on a sea green color that clashed with my sunset colored skin. Mother tried to use makeup and dyes to hide my appearance, but when my wings sprouted out from between my shoulder blades, there was nothing she could do anymore. “You’re disgusting,” Mother would say to me, her eyes never resting on me for more than a minute. “If ever there was an example of a dangerous one night stand, that’s you.”
I tried not to let it bother me.
When I was one and a half, I knew better than to look out the windows. I was a creature of disgust and needed to act like it. At the same time, I was supposed to act like the other toddlers my age, keeping my talking and observations to myself. Most days, I stayed in my room, dancing to the tunes that spilled out of my radio. I got quite good at matching my steps to the sounds, my body moving on something akin to instinct. It was the only time I ever felt truly happy: when my body became the movements of dance. Continue reading
My Prompt: This picture.
Okay. I can do that.
Lily peeked out from her hiding spot, the door only creaking open as far as the old chain lock on the outside would allow. It was just enough for one of her big brown eyes to see Robbie dashing up the stairs, his ridiculous red cape billowing behind him as the evil witch stood right outside.
“You wretched child!” she wailed. “The both of you!” Lily eased the thick door shut, but she could still hear the echoes of Robbie’s taunts at the powerful hag along with the sounds of his footsteps in the cavernous foyer.
With her back against the door, Lily took a deep breath. The pitch-black room was unnerving, but for whatever reason, she felt better when closed her eyes. At least the inside of her eyelids brought a darkness that was familiar.
Okay, Lily, she thought. This is it. You can do this. You can do this. She had to do this. Especially now that Robbie was out there, risking his life against the evil Kamila. This was their one chance. Continue reading
My prompt was to take this picture and transform it:
So I did.
What happened was I took on a voice of someone completely different than anything I’d ever written. I’m not sure it’s good. I’m not even sure I like it. But until I’m 100% sure, I’m going to be proud of it.
Her name was Roma and she was beautiful, even if she was deadly.
When this whole thing started, I’d been looking standing on my balcony, the waves in the distance luring me into a sense of dreariness. At least I’d hoped it was the waves. I was only on my third Birra Moretti so I couldn’t possibly be drunk. No, I knew I was still sober all the way up until my fifth drink.
That’s when I saw what I thought could only be explained as an illusion.
With her hands, she touched the man like a thousand year old vase that might shatter at the slightest pressure. Her lips moved in a way that suggested she might kiss him at any moment. My conscious hinted that it would be proper to leave them be, to walk back inside my room, finish off my drink, then head to bed. But curiosity got the best of my bored self and I watched. I waited for the beautiful woman’s lips to meet with the man’s, but it never did. It was then I realized she didn’t plan on kissing him.
She was singing. Continue reading
Prompt (sort of): Your main character wakes up finding themselves the subject of an April Fool’s Day prank. So I’ve been stuck on this prompt for a while and honestly didn’t start writing anything for it until April 1st. I was completely unsure of what to do until an old premise I’d said I’d like to play with someday and in my time crunch, here’s what came out. Not my favorite, but I also don’t hate it and I hope you don’t either 🙂
As far as Nicole was concerned, there were three months of the year that had strange dates. The first was February for not having enough days. Then there was March and April. According to Nicole, there were 32 days in March and April started on the 2nd.
Anything to erase April 1st. Or at the very least ignore it.
But the truth about beliefs and people is a tricky sort of business. Because people lie to themselves all the time. Sometimes people are aware of the lies. Sometimes they believe a lie so long, they forget it was a lie (at least on the surface).
Monica’s Prompt for me: Janice Lee once said, “Draw a monster. Why is it a monster?” I challenge you to play off this idea. Write a monster. Why is it a monster?
The minute I saw this I knew what I wanted to do: I wanted to use this prompt as an opportunity to expand my knowledge about the novel I’ve been writing for… oh, let’s say.. AN ETERNITY.
So something you need to know before reading it: The monsters in my novel are the kind of monsters you find under your bed or in your closet. They are the imaginary friends you played with as a kind only more fearsome.
And… that’s all I will tell you so far. And this story might not make sense to anyone but Monica, I realize… Which is why I won’t advertise its existence, really. In a way, Monica, I wrote this story just for you. xD
Sitting patiently outside of her therapist’s office is Molly Harper, age seven and a half. Even though a door divides herself from her parents and Miss Mae, she still hears the words being spoken on the other side. She is listening even though she is supposed to be working on her Hello Kitty coloring book. But even though the smiling face of Hello Kitty still needs to be colored, Molly has other priorities.
How is that known?
Because drawn around pictures of cats wearing bows and tutus, you will see a drawing that is almost too good more any young artist to create. Continue reading
Sarah’s prompt for me this time was one I actually had a few ideas for: Write a story where the antagonist is afraid of the dark. How great is that?! I decided to go with this route in an attempt to branch out a bit from my usual contemporary stuff and to also write a male protagonist. Hope you like it!
Robbie had a few problems at the moment, none of which he was feeling particularly inclined to talk about. Especially with his parents, who could only half-guess at one of them.
He lay in bed wide-awake even though he was exhausted and had retreated to the darkness of his bedroom hours ago. Sleep tugged at him from the inside out, from his fingers and toes slowly working its way up his body. His limbs were a combination of numb and an indescribable inert prickly feeling that often comes with sitting on your foot for too long and then trying to walk.
Every part of him physically was ready to succumb to slumber, but Robbie refused. He fought to keep his mind sharp and focused. He wanted to sleep desperately, but had no desire to have the nightmare.
Again. Continue reading
So when I saw Monica’s prompt, I panicked just a little.
” Since you have to post on the 15th and it is February, you must write about a Valentine’s Day hangover. Now you can take this literally or metaphorically – it’s up to you – but the fact that it’s the day after Valentine’s Day must be a main factor. Have fun!”
For starters, I’m normally a big fan of Valentine’s Day because I literally love love. I really do. It makes me happy. But Valentine’s Day for me is just another day to express my love. I love my husband 365 days of the year and try to tell him that all the time. (And he does the same for me.) So for me to write about the day after V-day, it stumped me. When I think V-day hangover, I think of something not awesome. (Anyone who says hangovers are awesome have never had one.) So the REAL challenge for me was putting myself in the mind of someone who hated V-day. This story is the result of such thinking.
This isn’t exactly my typical writing, so bear with me if it’s a bit odd sounding.
Screw Valentine’s Day– A Story by David J. Jenkins, self proclaimed hater of Valentine’s Day
Screw Valentine’s Day.
That’s right. I said it. Screw it.
Whoever thought it would be a good idea to celebrate a dead guy’s martyrdom with handing out chocolates is one sick son of a monkey. I mean, come on. Do we celebrate Abraham Lincoln’s death with chocolate and pretty, decorated hearts?
No. We don’t. Continue reading