Monthly Archives: February 2017

Writing Prompt: Day 49

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49.jpgDay 49 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write a story where the narrator talks to the reader.

Shannon: Ah reader, I see you decided to come back for more. I’m happy to see you, but I must warn you this next part of the story is not for the faint of heart. Feel free to turn back now, before it’s too late.

As you remember we left Ashley, Peter, and Hunter in the woods, trying to find out where Megan had run off to hide. “Megan it’s not funny where are you,” Ashley called out into the silence, starting to panic.

There was no answer, so they all continued to shout her name, hoping she’d make some kind of noise. Though they were sick of her antics, they each secretly longed for her to jump out and attempt to scare them with her sloppy-drunk mindset. Yet no matter where they shined their flashlights, the forest remained still. Reader I don’t use that as a figure of speech. There were no animals scurrying around, not a single leaf was rustled, not even the wind was out that night.

I don’t know if you have ever heard that kind of silence in an unexpected place. Maybe it brought you peace, or maybe it put you on edge. See normally I think it depends on who you are and how embrace the unusual. I’m only a presence, so I’ve seen a lot, but I found myself just as terrified as the rest of them.

Suddenly all of flashlights flickered out at the same time, and in the pitch dark a distant sound was finally audible. It was eerie scratching sound that was getting closer and more aggressive by the second. They stayed silent, twisting and shaking their flashlights, too paralyzed to move in the dark without some light. The scratching reached their location before they could make any progress and the bone-chilling noise stopped. Then there was a scream.

Erin:

Dear Reader,

We must first get some facts about this story I am about to tell you out in the open. The most important of these facts is that this story is not in my control. I have not chosen the ending we have been forced to endure in taking this journey together. I don’t want to tell this story any more than you want to read it.

The second piece that I am required by our bylaws to disclose is that humans were harmed in the making of this story… or the making of this life.

The last piece that we need to get out in the open is that I am an unbiased spectator. While I am not happy about some of the events that conspired throughout this story, I do not have a tie or favor to any one of the people involved.

Continue reading at your own risk.

Love,

An Innocent Observer

You can do this, yup I’m talking to you reader.

Writing Prompt: Day 48

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48.jpgDay 48 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about where a runaway bride goes after she runs.

Erin: “Where did you go,” my therapist asked.

“To the ocean,” I eluded.

“Why,” she pushed.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I guess because the ocean doesn’t have an end. The water doesn’t have any boundaries. I wanted to be able to flow like the water. So, I thought I’d join in the dance.”

“How did you feel when you were in the water,” she asked.

“Like the waves were going to pull my wedding dress off,” I sighed. “And excited at that idea.”

Shannon: After I distracted my bridesmaids I snagged the keys and went running out the back door until I reached my vehicle. Under the belief that no stranger had to know what I was up to, I immediately ripped off all the decorations the wedding party had already added to the car. Then I hopped into the driver’s seat and locked the doors, running on pure adrenaline at that point.

With a twist of the key the engine roared and I knew I was almost in the clear, but as I turned around to back out of the parking spot I caught sight of my maid of honor in the back doorway. I pushed on the gas a little harder, but she was already running after me. “What are you doing?” She yelled loud enough for me to hear her muffled voice through my closed windows.

“I can’t do it. I’m sorry,” I couldn’t even look at her or take the time to roll down the window, so I didn’t know if she heard. Then I started driving again without a clue of where I was going. I couldn’t go to our home. They’d find me eventually, and ultimately he’d find me too. I couldn’t go to any family or friends, because they were all at the wedding waiting for me to walk down the isle. It wouldn’t be the first time I disappointed them. I couldn’t go anywhere too public. There’d be so many questions and confusion with me in my big white dress. I should have brought a change of clothes. Deep down I knew I couldn’t handle this.

That’s how I ended up at the bridal store where I had bought the dress, the one place where it was normal and maybe, just maybe, they could offer me some advice. They pounced on me with compliments the second I walked though the door. “Is there something wrong with your dress,” one questioned.

I shook my head, “I ran,” I revealed without a second thought.

“We got another runner Linda. Get the Champagne. Let’s get you to the back and see if we can fix this. We only take you there in case any prospective clients come in. Runners are not great for business, but you’re going to be just fine honey,” she rubbed my back and led the way.

Where does your character run to, where is her safe place?

Writing Prompt: Day 47

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Day 47 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write a story where a character’s weakness works in their favor.

Shannon: My entire life I have never been much of a leader. I’ve always tended to stray to the back of the line and let someone else make the hard decisions. I was told many times I could never succeed if I always stayed in the background, and for a while I believed them. I thought I would always be a follower and never feel the joy of true freedom, but they were wrong.

After years of supporting other people I learned how to decipher the difference between the best and the worst leaders. With all the time I spent in line I learned who I wanted to keep following, and who I needed to break away from. I also developed some close friendships with leaders who took me with them for life-changing opportunities.

I always thought there was something wrong with me because I never felt the drive to guide others to greatness. Now I know that you don’t always have to be the one who gets everyone to the finish line. You just have to be there to cross the line, and enjoy the company you’ve surrounded yourself with. Trust me, it will taste just as sweet.

Erin: The one and only time that I ever cried in my life was in fifth grade. I needed to pass my spelling test with 100% to move up to my last elementary level. To accomplish the feat, I stayed up all night studying with my best friend. After breaking down in tears once she screamed at me to “buck up.” She could easily say that as a normal average speller. That’s when I broke into tears though.

Rachel wouldn’t let me quit though, she stuck with me and graded my tests until I got my 100%. She stuck with me through the spy academy and she was sticking with me through the mission we needed complete to save our positions. “Passcode,” I requested and made sure my ear piece was in.

“Playwright42,” Johnathan feed us the information.

“Perfect,” Rachel cheered and started typing away.

“Wait,” I screamed fully aware we only had one chance to try a code.

“What,” she scoffed removing her hands from the panel.

“It’s spelled W-R-I-G-H-T,” I warned.

“W-R-I-T-E is how it’s spelled actually,” she tried to correct me.

“You’re the one who taught me how to spell it,” I yelled. “It’s not about how it should be, it’s about how it is,” I reminded her of her own words of advice.

“You’re talking about the spelling test where you got the better score than me,” she seemed to have an epiphany.

“Yes,” I sighed relived. “So, trust me.”

And she did, and the only reason we were able to complete our mission was because I was a bad enough speller that I had studied words like playwright until my eyes were completely devoid of moisture.

No bad traits, just bad attitudes.

Writing Prompt: Day 46

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Day 46 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write a character that represents a season.

Erin: Winter was impossible to pin. One day I would go up to her and she would ice me out completely. I’d ask her how her day was and she would just say “bad.” I would ask her if she wanted a cookie from the break room and she would just say “no.” Then other days her beauty would blanket the room and despite her constant scowl, there were days I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. She would say “good” and “yes” on those days. Days like that were usually dangerous, I would slip on my words and her chuckle would send me spinning out of control.

I understood why she could be that way. Her desk was covered completely in white. People were always dropping projects off for her and there was no way she could finish a page’s project before she got another ten. Her projects all revolved around children’s books, so she brought joy to so many others. Too bad that came at her expense.

It all changed at the same time of year though. She always had all of her vacation in one long four-week trip. To prep she basically lived in the office, until she turned on her out of office.

I never saw her during her vacation, but rumor has it, she is the most beautiful and warm person laying on the beach. When she comes back she still has a bit of that glow. Slowly though her desk will start to fill and her mood will start to chill. Her stress will build day by day, until yet again vacation will come around. From what I am told, that four-week span makes the rest of the craziness worth it.

Shannon: April was the type of person who could bring a little hope to even my darkest moments. To cheer me up she’d offer her warmth, but never ask me to completely forget about my memories of when it was cold. A much-needed conversation with her was both refreshing and unpredictable at the same time. I could never bring the same advice to the table, even though at times she needed it just as much as me.

She felt each emotion so deeply, so she never had a shortage of tears. She produced so many she probably could have used them to water her gardens of beautiful flowers. I think that’s where she found the most peace, just caring for them in the quiet. She wasn’t afraid of silence, because somehow she never felt alone. Now as I lie in her favorite spot, amongst everything she has grown, I realized she wasn’t.

Fall, Winter, Spring, and Summer… pick your poison.

Writing Prompt: Day 45

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45.jpgDay 45 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Help the reader sympathize with a cheater.

Shannon: “When did you stop loving her,” my psychologist asked.

“I didn’t stop loving her,” I corrected.

“So you cheated on someone you love?” She threw the truth back at me.

“You got me,” I shook my head, annoyed, and then started to bite at my thumbnail.

“Tell me why,” she pushed, both of knowing she would go there eventually. She was tasked with healing every part of my messed-up-brain after all.

“When I came home after the accident it felt like I had become a different person.”

“The type of accident you had could easily change someone’s life. It can make a person reevaluate what is truly important,” she tried to direct the conversation.

“No I actually felt the same, like nothing had changed but my body. Then I saw the way she looked at me, and I knew she wasn’t seeing me. She’d watch me out of the corner of her eye like I was a monster. She had a hard time making eye contact with me anymore, and she almost had me convinced I’d lost a piece of myself that I valued. It felt as if I’d done something wrong, and no matter what I did I couldn’t fix it. Not with her,” I got up to walk around and stare at the art on each wall.

“Do you believe she stopped loving you,” her question pierced my heart, but I was glad she asked it while my back was to her.

“I think the guy she loved died in the accident. I couldn’t tell you how she feels about me,” I breathed out, resting my arm next to one of the frames.

 

Erin: When I was eighteen I gave up my life for a pretty girl. Not to be confused with the pretty girl. The world is full of pretty girls, one of which I was dating.

We met at her show. She was on the stage singing her heart out. In losing hers in the music she stole mine. I wasn’t looking for trouble though, my friend was. He bought her a drink and he bought himself a drink and he bought me a drink. Repeat that formula a few times, until he has no choice, but to go to the bathroom.

When he left, Dona opened up for me. She was more than a pretty face, she had the most beautiful soul I had ever been invited into. By the time my friend came back from the bathroom I knew she was the pretty girl. And the second I kissed her I knew I had to leave my current pretty girl.

And that is what I did the next morning, when I chose your grandma as my one and only pretty girl.

Is everything black and white, or can the bad be a little good.

Writing Prompt: Day 44

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44.jpgDay 44 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Two characters have to communicate through technology even though they are in the same room.

Shannon:

Luke: Sorry, I promise I’m not a creep who found a ticket right next to you. I swear on my dog’s life that this is some freaky fate thing. I got the tickets with my friends a few months ago. Before I met you.

Taylor: I don’t know, I was once told that you can tell if someone is lying based on the length of their explanation, and your explanation was pretty long for a text message.

Luke: Well if I could talk to you around your friends, it wouldn’t have seemed so long.

Taylor: I told you they’d make a big deal out of this, so it’s best to keep this a secret unless you want to see a huge scene right before the play starts. Remember, I hate causing a scene.

Luke: I know, I know, especially in front of large crowds. What if I have some genius comments to make about the show (as I always do)? I could whisper them to you.

Taylor: NO. You can text them.

Luke: Not after the lights go down. I don’t want to be that guy.

Taylor: Then you can save them.

Luke: I’ll forget.

Taylor: Then I guess they’ll be lost forever.

Luke: Fine, but you’re missing out.

Taylor: How will I go on?

Luke: It won’t be easy, and we’ll have to go to a lot more of these together (on purpose) and then you’ll finally be able to forgive yourself.

Taylor: I’m looking forward to it.

Erin:

George: Guy at seat 36.

Lil: Black curly hair?

George: Yes.

Lil: Weapon?

George: Back left pocket.

Lil: Knife?

George: Yes.

Lil: Alone?

George: No.

Lil: Weapon?

George: Gun.

Lil: Location?

George: Sitting to the left of you.

Keep your characters’ heads in their electronics.

Writing Prompt: Day 43

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43.jpgDay 43 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write a story where one of the enemies considers the other a dear friend.

Erin: “Why so sour babe,” Dylan asked as I started packing for the gym.

“Training with Greg today,” I sighed. I zipped my bag and hoisted it to my shoulder.

“You’re a free woman, you can train with whoever you want,” he stupidly suggested.

“Have you met my trainer?”

“I’d rather not, since he’s always having you fight dudes,” he rolled his eyes.

“You’re jealous of my fighting partners,” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No, you know I trust you,” he redeemed himself right before sticking his big old foot right back in his mouth. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Excuse me,” I dropped my gym bag and whipped my head to look directly at him. “You want me to beat the shit out of you right now to prove I can handle myself with a boy. You’re not a man like the guys I fight, but if I pummel you to the ground maybe you can comprehend how I compete with a real fighter.”

“Calm down tiger you’re going to be late for training,” he laughed off my threat.

“This is not over,” I warned taking a hard sip of my protein shake.

By the time I hit the gym my blood had boiled to the point I could take on any boxer man, woman, or anyone in-between. Greg would be in for it once I spotted him. Too bad he saw me first, “sneak attack Ray.”

“What the,” I bent over, elbowed him in the hip and dropped down until he was off of me.

“Play fair,” I shouted as I tried to maneuver my body to restrain his arms and pin him down.

“Advice you could stand to take yourself,” he managed to worm his way out of my attempt and was on top of me before I knew it.

“Sneak attack is my thing. You can’t steal my idea and think you can get away with it,” I engaged my legs, knowing that is where my power came from. He was no match and we were rolled from my back to his.

He tried to struggle, but my anger and position were both staying stable. “Uncle,” he surrendered.

“Damn straight,” I unpinned his shoulder’s while I tried to catch my breath.

“You’re getting really good,” I looked down on him confused by the compliment. He had a giant smirk on his face though, so I knew he meant it. That’s when I realized Greg and I mercilessly beat each other up out of the respect we had for each other’s strength and resiliency. I was not sure how many people I could say that about.

“Thanks Greg,” I stood up and offered him a hand. I hoisted him up, but the jerk threw me down to the ground the second he had the chance.

Shannon: “You do know that nobody wants you here,” Katelyn stated her rhetorical question as she sat down next to Keith.

“I think I know at least one person who is happy to see me,” he stared her down, waiting for the response he was trying to fish out.

“Are you implying that I wanted to see you,” she questioned and let out laugh. He shrugged, in his usual cocky way. “Well you’re wrong. I could live the rest of my life without ever seeing you again, and I’d be all the better for it.”

He looked forward and shook his head with a smirk. “Then why sit next me?”

“To tell you to leave.”

“I’m not buying it. I know we’ve been apart for a few years…”

“For good reasons,” she interrupted him.

He sighed, “Ok, but even though we’ve grown up a lot since high school, when you get together with an old friend doesn’t it feel like nothing has changed, like we could pick up right where we left off?”

“You think we’re old friends. Are you serious?” Her brow furrowed.

He nodded, “Of course, what else could we have been?”

Katelyn felt her face heat up, and couldn’t breathe in and out enough to diffuse the energy. “Do you see them over there,” she questioned pointing to her real old friends, who had appointed her to take care of the unwanted situation. “You torn through them like a hurricane. None of them ever fully recovered, and you didn’t even try to make it a little easier on them. I may have been the only one who wasn’t targeted by you, but I was there to watch all of them fall apart, and I hate you for that,” her voice wavered as she finally got to say what she though of him after all this time. “But go ahead keep acting like everything ok, and this conversation never happened. That’s what you do best.”

She started to get up, but he put his hand on her forearm to stop her. “Wait, there is something I never told anyone about that night. Please, you’re the only one who will listen, and you are the only one who can tell them. That’s why I really came,” he begged, cracking from his confident demeanor.

It was a side of him she’d never seen, and she promised herself this would be last time she pitied him, “Ok fine. Tell me.”

Let’s see your best attempt at writing two character’s with conflicting feelings.

Writing Prompt: Day 42

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42Day 42 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about a hospital preforming odd procedures.

Shannon: “So I see you’ve signed up for glitter eye infusion,” the doctor confirmed. “And I have you down for silver, is that correct?”

I nodded, excited and nervous at the same time. This was my first chance to add my spirit color to my appearance, and my first step toward defining my identity. It was a big milestone, and the rest of my peers had already taken on their eye colors. I was feeling left out, but before I could get too envious my parents had saved up enough money to begin my transformation.

“I’m obligated to run through the possible side effects…” he started before listing a long list of symptoms ending with loss of sight as the rare worst case scenario. “However, it still has happen to a few people. Are you still sure this is what you want? It’s not to late to change your mind.”

“I’m sure,” I nodded. “It’s worth it,” I confirmed without hesitation. I was going back to school with my color. The world wasn’t worth seeing if I wasn’t silver inside and out.

“Ok then, let’s get started. I’ll need you to drink this,” he handed me a cup and I downed it quickly. It was sour and bitter at the same time, and I gagged at the taste. That was the last thing I remember before waking up in front of the mirror. The silver circles looked only slightly different from the white of my eyes. My real colors were finally starting to show through, I liked it, and I wanted more.

Erin: “I have an appointment for disconnection,” I said to the woman checking in the patients.

“Okay,” she started pounding away at her keyboard and then handed me a clipboard with a piece of paper full of questions for me to answer.

“These seem kind of personal,” I shouted from the couch as I got further down the list.

“They need to be,” the secretary assured me.

“Why,” I refused to take that simple answer at face value.

“If you don’t pass this last questionnaire you will not be a good candid for the surgery.”

“Oh,” my heart started to sink. I concentrated more on trying to answer the questions with what they would most likely want vs what I would have said honestly. And it worked.

I was strapped into the operating chair. A gas mask was placed on my mouth and my heart fluttered before I was knocked out. When I woke up my heart never fluttered again. That knowledge made me neither happy nor sad. Nothing would ever make me happy or said again.

Before the surgery, they were concerned that patients were not fit for losing their hearts deciding pull on their life. But, after surgery that doesn’t matter. As someone who only thinks with my brain, I know that makes no sense. If the disconnected get our way, everyone will be able to experience our clarity.

What are they doing in there?

Writing Prompt: Day 41

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41.jpgDay 41 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Your character finds a book that changes everything.

Erin: “Of course, we got stuck with cleaning the attic,” I groaned as a puff of dust started to fill my lungs with death.

“Why were all of these things kept,” my co-worker ignored my comment with her own. “I can’t even read whatever print was on this paper. It’s faded more than my memories from Friday night.”

“I think it was an office memo,” I squinted at the light gray specks barely hanging on to the paper fibers.

“Well it is garbage and always should have been,” she threw the sheet into the recycle.

“Hey look,” I found an old record player in the corner and when I plugged it in it didn’t explode. I placed the Elvis record in and smooth crackling tones lulled into my ears.

“Yes,” my co-worker finally upped her mood.

As I unloaded one of the crates a book with an opal cover caught my eye. “Spells and Curses.” I didn’t touch it. I worked on eliminating the binders, hole punches, and staplers surrounding them.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Lace informed before leaving me alone in the dingy space.

That is when I opened the opal book. I checked the appendix and found what I was looking for. I turned the page and practiced the hand motion. Then I added the words at the same time, “Laky Gool Faricke.”

“How the fuck did you get this done so fast,” Lace screamed once she had climbed the steps. I hid the book behind my back.

Shannon: I thought it was just an ordinary library book, and I wanted to read it because of the description of the fictional story on the back cover. However when I open it up I got a lot more than I was ever expecting.

I was reading it just fine, because the first few pages weren’t tampered with, but as I went on that’s when I started finding little characters and opinions written next to the seams and any free space their creator could find. The person who wrote them meant for someone else to find them. They were meant to be read by someone in the future, and at the same time no one in particular. It was like a secret book club inside the book, giving his or her opinions and making funny jokes.

There was no way to know when they were written, and if this person had graduated, or if they were still going to the school. If they were still going to the school then I had to meet them, heck, even if they weren’t I still wanted to know. I guess I also want the writer to know that there additions weren’t disappearing into thin air, and that at least one person had caught them, and she was very grateful.

Write about something someone else wrote affecting the life of someone you write.

Writing Prompt: Day 40

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40.jpgDay 40 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Describe a city from an outsider’s perspective.

Shannon: Everybody seems so happy in town. Why can’t I be happy like them? I just want to fit in again, like I used to back home. Now I feel so alone. I’m sure the town is beautiful, but it’s hard to see any beauty when you have no one to share it with, no one to point out what you’re missing when you’re looking the other way.

So what have I seen of this city? I’ve seen its quieter places. I’ve found the perfect places to walk, places to think, places to eat, and places to read. I’ve actually spent way too much time reading throughout the city, so much that I know the fictional places more intimately than I know my current home.

I want to be in the crowds. I want to have experiences I can keep with me for a lifetime, and get to know people that will have a huge impact on who a still have to become. I hope something will change, but for now I’ll continue to watch, waiting to join the party.

Erin: When you move to a small town there is very little likelihood that you will ever truly be home. Because even if you fall deeply and madly in love with the city, the city will never fall madly and deeply in love with you. Because, you will never be little Lucy Jean who fell in the well. Yes, that metaphor is dramatic, but so are small towns.

For this all to make any sense you must understand that I grew up in New York. Most people who live there will tell you the people who live there are not as cold as their reputation can be. I’m here to tell you that is all bullshit. We are as prickly as everyone thinks. I like being prickly and the thing about being prickly is that most people are equally prickly to everyone.

If people were cold to me in New York I would be fitting in. But people are cold to me in this middle of nowhere town and that is them being mean. It is not their default demeanor and that makes it so much worse.

For lifers, they will all but sacrifice themselves. But then for me, they won’t even take the time to include me in a mass invite. New York is full of people and I think that a lot of the time everyone feels alone. But in my new home I feel like most people feel satisfied with their relationships and I am in the minority. For whatever reason that makes me feel worse, and I’ve been here for three years.

This was meant to push me to describe settings more, but I am Erin and I avoid that at any cost. I’m sure you can do better.