Prompt: Two characters are in an accident and end up sharing a hospital room – tell their story. What a perfect prompt because it gave me an excuse to explore an idea I’ve wanted to tinker with for a while! Here’s hoping you like this one because I think this is something I’d like to expand on in the future. 🙂
“My grandma says there are two kinds of people in the world: the stupids and the idiots. You? You’re an idiot.”
I can’t place the voice. Literally. I can’t tell what direction it’s coming from or who it belongs to. My head feels like an elephant is sitting on it while I’m underwater and someone is kicking it over and over again. And it’s not just my head. My whole body feels completely wrecked, like I’ve been hit by a bus.
The thought strikes me along with a flash of memory, propelling my eyes open.
Big mistake. Huge. 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).
Hello, Radish Readers! This post is coming a bit early since my brother is getting to married and I will be in the middle of Very Important bridesmaid duties. Between this big event and work, I was strapped for time so Sarah gave me permission to post an old story instead. I wrote this back in February as an entry to a short story contest, the prompt being that all entries could be no more than 4000 words and had to do with the dark. I was proud of my entry, but as a reread it for this week, I did some tweaking as advised by Stephen King in his book On Writing (a great resource for aspiring authors – I’m not done with it yet, but I’m already grateful for the lessons here!) It’s not perfect, but I’m still pleased. Hope you enjoy it too!
The heavy wooden door latches shut behind me, leaving me in a total darkness that thrills me. It’s only for a second, though. Just long enough to give me goose bumps as I feel for the next doorknob in the black, give it a twist, and step through.
It’s called the darkroom, but the space is home to a deep amber light. Anything that isn’t consumed by shadows instead takes on a red glow. I glance at the ancient analog clock on the far wall as my eyes adjust, the hands mocking me as they count off how little time I have here in my sanctuary.
I make my way to the back corner, home to my favorite enlarger. The creaky, archaic machine stands guard in its cube, separated from one of its twins only by a plywood divider, but looks can be deceiving. This antique looks intimidating, metallic, and cold but we know each other so well. We know each other’s quirks, we manipulate each other, and in this dark place, together we create beauty. Continue reading
It goes like this: I’ve been making a lot of progress on the first draft of a new novel. My head is all in that space, so when it came time for me to write my short story for this week, I was very stuck. My brain was upset, being like ‘No! Come back! Stay focused!’ But SaM means a lot to me, so I tried. I had false starts on a few stories and this was the only one I could bring myself to finish. It’s not my best. It’s kind of sappy. I’ll work on bringing more awesome next time =)
As long as I’ve known him, Clark has hated reading. He was always more of a tech guy, a movie guy, a TV guy. He loves a well-told story but sitting down and reading one was always something just beyond the scope of things he’d like to do with his time.
That all changed our senior year of high school, though. This little book by an author nobody heard of before showed up at the local bookstore and his mom impulsively bought it for him. “I know reading’s not really your thing,” she said, “but I just feel like this is something you might really like.”
Mother knew best and I never heard the end of it. Hall Pass, a novel taking place over the course of one day and telling the story of two teenagers, a girl who has finally found refuge and anonymity in midst of chaos and her best friend, a boy so anxious to get out of town that he can’t see everything he says wants is actually right in front of him, became one of those books that people passed around. It wasn’t an overnight hit, but it felt like it in a lot of ways the way it snuck up on the world and then suddenly poof! It was everywhere – ‘an instant classic.’ It was described as “a sister to JD Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye in more ways than one.” Both books were smart and critical; both authors famously reclusive. Virtually nothing was known about Elle Adams, but that didn’t stop Clark from writing her letters via her publisher. Only he called them thank you notes.
“It’s just so raw, Laura,” Clark would preach. At least twice a year he’d beg me to read it and every single time, I refused. “You love reading. You’re always reading. How could you not give this a shot? Please? For me.”
“Why do I need to read a coming-of-age book about a teenage boy going through a personal crisis when I get to see it everyday when I hang out with you?” Continue reading