Day 263 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about what happens when the seasons change in the world you create.

Erin: The crops died on the eve of each season change. After the day of darkness, the new varieties would sprout. I hated only getting my favorite foods when the 5ith of the year aligned with my stomach.

Shannon: You could always tell the seasons were changing when the ground started shaking. It would start as a low rumble as the land prepared to switch out the seasons. Did I mention the seasons are artificial here? Sometimes I wonder how different they would be if they were real. People tell me real plants are a lot less colorful, but they have an essence that can’t be captured by any other means. An essence I may never feel.

Seasons are a changin’.

Day 262 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Would you rather write about the victim or the villain?

Shannon: “I’m not running anymore,” she slammed her hands against another door that wouldn’t open for her. She turned around to face me, without one cry for help. As I moved closer, she didn’t attempt to charge, and I could tell by the look in her eyes she had no intention to trick me. “You want to hurt me, go ahead,” she pushed my chest.

Though my own instincts wanted to snap her arm, I was having a hard time understanding her reaction. She was different than most of my victims.

“Just do it,” she screamed, and as I looked closer into her eyes, I realized I didn’t want to kill this one.

Erin: The thing about the dark world was that they never played fair. In their capturing of me they read my mind, took over my body, even wiped the memories that didn’t suit them. The last fact I found out later on. I used to think of myself as a strong person and a survivor. But they took advantage of my mortality, they made me hopeless, they made me a victim.

Make your character good or evil.

Day 261 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Would you rather write about a baker or a fashion designer.

Erin: There are those rare days where the normal stock we make in the morning isn’t enough. Those days are both blessings and curses. The profit is impeccable. The question is at what level of exhaustion and draining is its benefit outweighed.

Shannon: I could spend hours in the studio working on new ideas. Whenever my muse was around I had to catch it while it was still within my reach. I’d spend the nights clipping away at fabric and sewing the pieces together into something I couldn’t see until it was real and in front of me.

What do you want your character to be when they grow up?

Day 260 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Would you rather write about a character who lives in this house or this house?

Shannon: We lived in a tiny house in the middle of woods. We didn’t choose it because we were on some minimalist kick, or because it was all we could afford. We just wanted our house to be a place where we could be together. At our old house we had so much space we could spend the whole day without ever crossing paths. We grew so distant we forgot if we even still loved each other. When we moved into our tiny house it didn’t take long to realize we did.

Erin: I liked my little house. It was just enough room for my few belongings. I could afford way bigger and loved how people always assumed that someone who could would. People would think I was joking when I pointed to my front door. My abode was small and humble, but a larger residence would not make me any happier. I didn’t feel the need to live up to expectations others had for me.

Where is home?

Day 259 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write a backstory for this jacket.

Erin: My inspiration for this piece was my pure hatred for this class. While I agree that students who want to create art should have the right to. I on the other hand do not, and we should not be wasting taxpayer’s money. Art should be optional so school days best benefit the student’s plans for their future. I wanted to take another science class. Enjoy the rest of the art show.

Shannon: “Do you have to wear that?” I wasn’t up for dealing with Darren’s blind support for the town’s new rules.

“Yes, and I have yours too. You should put it on, or you’ll get another strike. There has finally been some peace around here, why can’t you just trust that they’ve made the right choice?” He held out the black coat, begging me to take it.

I understood the idea behind taking away the arts. We had a town full of dreamers who often came back feeling deceived by their aspirations. They were chasing this carrot they’d never catch, and it left them broken. The ones who returned brought gloom back to our neighborhoods, and eventually our leaders had seen enough. That’s why they implemented the new law: no more arts. Anyone who supported or resisted the new law would be punished. They said it would make the town happier, more realistic.

“Because it’s not their choice,” I responded, thinking of the sketchbook I’d hidden under the floorboard in my bedroom. “And they definitely don’t get to tell me what to wear.”

How did this come to be?

Day 258 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about a character who can teleport.

Shannon: “So you’re saying you could be anywhere in the world at this very moment and you’re choosing to stay here?” I was having a hard time believing my friend’s story.

“Well yes, but it’s not like I never go anywhere. It’s just not as much fun when you’re traveling alone,” she explained.

I shook my head, “Still, you could be on a beach right now,” I reiterated my disproval.

She gave me a soft chuckle, “Yeah, yeah, but that’s not important right now. I need you help.”

Erin: The best part of teleporting was the freedom. If I wanted to get lunch with my friend in another country in the middle of the work day that was possible. If I forgot something at home I could have it in a few seconds. Never would I ever be stranded or stuck somewhere. I never took that for granted.

Where is your character going?

Day 257 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about a character who watches over people.

Erin: Being an RA can be like being a babysitter. Sure, the residents are adults, but they don’t really know how to be yet. They know what they need to do, they want to do that, but they are figuring it out still. The freshman are the worst. The know the least and they have a lot of tantrums in the form of getting drunk.

Shannon: I follow a human. He’s a male and he’s been a bit of a hassle to keep track of. His whole life I’ve been protecting him from the death spirits. It seems he’s prone to them. The other guardians don’t have to work as hard as me, but they all admit they’re impressed at how long I’ve kept this one. Sure he’s tough, but I have to admit, I’ve grown quite fond of him.

Who does your character oversee?

Day 256 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Your character makes something beautiful out of very little.

Shannon: “I like what you did with the place Jerry.” I sat down across from the guy I befriended a few months ago. Whenever I saw him he was typically hanging out under a blue tarp that he took with him wherever he ended up for the night.

He glanced back to see what I was talking about, and when he turned to me again there was a subtle smile on his face. He had painted his house with these beautiful patterns, and I was memorized with his new background. “I found perfectly good paints by the dumpster. I guess I’m lucky people don’t know how to appreciate what they have,” he explained.

“They’ll never know what they missed out on,” I agreed.

He reached up to tap the roof. “It makes me feel powerful,” he revealed. “Like I’m worth something,” he looked up, so I couldn’t read his face.

“That’s because you are,” I reminded him.

Erin: His secret was literally rags to riches. He took patches, but instead of patching he created. He sewed them together and created the most beautiful gowns. The overlooked became beautiful in the right hands. He knew how to bring it out.

Find the beauty in the minimal. 

Day 255 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write this story.

Erin: My art teacher knew how to take my panting to the next level. I needed to stop painting all together for a period. The concept seemed counter intuitive but my teacher seemed knowledgeable. So, I went on faith that she was taking me in the right direction. It started with basic dance and the dance turned into an underwater routine. Once I graduated the class I could finally take my brush to the canvas again. My art encompassed the rhythm of the music and the flow of the waves. Painting wasn’t just in the techniques, but in the experiences behind them.

Shannon: This school was the coolest thing I’d ever been a part of, and probably ever would be a part of for the rest of my life. It was full of artists, and not just anyone with artistic talent. Everyone here was recruited because someone, we call them “spies”, saw our work and thought it was unique enough to deserve one of the few spots they handed out.

I’ve seen ballet dancers who outgrown the typical routines. They need to be pushed, and this is the only place that allows them to reach their full potential. It’s the same way with the actors and singers. They want more. They just don’t know it exists until they come here.

My roommate is a dancer, and her own choreographer. She’s never liked playing by the rules, so she loves it here. She even started a new under water dancing team.

Me on the other hand, I’m not a performer. I leave my art on the page, where it has to fend for itself. I’m still trying to understand what makes me different, and why I’m here, but they say the “spies” are never wrong. I just need to trust them.

Connect the dots.

Day 254 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Your character finds something strange in a secluded place.

Shannon: “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” my friend responded getting closer the glowing animal. I grabbed her arm before she could get too far. “Wait, it could hurt you.”

She turned back, “The poor thing looks scared,” she pushed her out arm toward it, tugging away from me.

“Just because it’s cute, doesn’t mean it’s not carrying a disease. Be careful,” I warned, but she was already picking the little furball up. It was glowing yellow, pink, and orange and it was memorizing. The creature looked similar to a fox, but with large ears and a bushy tail. The face was covered as it was shivering into her chest at the moment.

“I think it’s hurt, I’m not leaving it to die. Let’s take it with us,” she suggested.

“I don’t know, what if its mother is nearby? We shouldn’t move it,” I was always hesitant to tamper with nature.

“And what if this is the only one left? I’ll take the risk.” Apparently she didn’t need my approval.

Erin: The last key went into the lock with ease. I turned it slowly. My hand started to shake as I heard the click. Finally, I was going to see what was in the mystery room. With the slightest push, the door creaked open at a crawling pace. My first reaction was that it was empty. But then I saw it. Right in the center of the wood floor. A pizza with a few pieces eaten. It looked fresh.

What’s that?