Tag Archives: 365 days of writing prompts

Writing Prompt: Day 25

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 Day 25 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Lucky by Britney Spears

Shannon: “You’ve won the lottery of lives my friend,” Jack observed as he brushed his hand down a rack of clothes inside my huge walk-in closet. “I envy your world,” he moaned dramatically. He was still the same guy I knew in high school. If I was still the same girl from high school, maybe we would have reunited sooner.

“Trust me, you don’t want my life,” I shook my head.

“Are you kidding me? I know you deal with a lot of crap, but itsn’t it worth getting everything you ever wanted,” he put up his arms to display the enormity of my place.

I sat down on the couch, “I thought it was what I wanted, because I thought everything about this would make me happy. People love me, people listen to me, I have a job that people respect, and I have more money than I know what to do with. Being honest, that person who has-it-all isn’t even me. She’s not real. She’s just a shell,” I felt lifeless as I told the truth, as if it didn’t matter to keep it hidden.

“But you seem like you’re being so real on camera,” Jack sat down next to me, calmer and willing to hear me out.

I huffed, “Yeah with my fake celebrity boyfriend who I only have because I told the guy I actually love to take a hike, pretending he never mattered to me at all. I walk on eggshells in every interview trying to remember what I can and cannot say. I wear outfits that I hate and protest against, but in the end it’s never my decision. I’m not just criticized by strangers, no I’m criticized everyday by people who are looking out for my career,” I ranted, releasing it all as if he were my shrink. “And worst of all I never see you anymore,” I broke down. “You were my best friend. I could tell you anything. It’s been four years and I never got back to you.”

He shrugged, trying to hide how much I’d hurt him. “It’s ok. You’ve been busy,” he looked away.

“I’ve been ashamed,” I corrected. “And you didn’t even get mad at me. It’s like I’m not even worth your real emotions anymore.” I bit my bottom lip as I wiped my eyes.

He thought for bit, leaving us to sit in silence. Then he furrowed his brow and scowled. “You bitch, you think you’re too good for your friends,” he spoke through his teeth.

I immediately cry-smiled. “What was that?” The way he said it sounded so ridiculous, especially coming from his mouth.

“Did it make you feel better?” He started smiling proudly.

“Yeah a little,” I nodded.

He smiled bigger. “Maybe you’re still in there then,” he pointed with a flick of his wrist, and I believed him.

Erin: “I quit,” she screamed threating my entire career.

“You can’t quit being a famous singer,” I argued.

“I never asked for this and I don’t like this,” she ripped off her $1655 gown in a fit of rage.

“You don’t know how lucky you have life,” I rolled my eyes ready to storm out.

“I had a normal life, I had normal friends, I was happy at one point. Don’t act like I am an idiot,” a tear dripped out of her eye and I realized she was actually serious.

“You have friends, I’m a friend,” I tried to make up for my harsh reaction.

“You’re my employee, I pay you. I pay for everything that makes everyone jealous. No matter how much things and people I buy, they don’t bring me any joy.” I would have been insulted, but I just felt sorry for her.

If Britney Spears can’t inspire you to write… I don’t know what will? 

Writing Prompt: Day 24

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24.jpg Day 24 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write a story that involves someone losing a tooth.

Erin: “This is your first chance,” my dad beamed as he showed me the little human in the mirror.

He was readjusting so the tooth would be centered under the pillow. “Stay put,” he whispered to his pillow and turned the light off. Once his head laid down he closed his eyes. Within a few minutes, he was asleep and I knew it was time to prove myself.

I strapped on my backpack, turned on my turbo boots and before I knew it I was flying. The wind was rough once I got to my first clients city. I went with it when I could and turned up my boosters when I was going to be derailed. Despite some difficulties, I made it.

“Ugh,” I grunted and I used my jack to crank up the window. Once there was a ½ an inch gap I knew I could get in. Turning my turbos back on would be easiest, but I heard horror stories of that waking up light sleepers. The little human was making snorting noises as he slept. I didn’t know if that meant he was a light sleeper or a heavy sleeper.

I grabbed onto the string hanging from the window fabric and slid down. Once I was in the carpet I almost got lost in the fibers. I continued in the direction of the snorting and before I knew it I had run into a piece of bed fabric. I grabbed a handful and started my climb. “But mom, I ate all of my peas,” I nearly lost my grip at his words, but letting go would have killed me on my first outing.

“Sleep dear child,” I started singing the song I heard had gotten some of our greats out of tight missions in the past. His snorting started back up and I was on the bed before I knew it.

Everything seemed to be going well as I made my way to the pillow when the bed surface started to shake. The little human was not so little when he was out of the job posting mirror. He was rolling and if he had rolled anymore he would have crushed me. That is when I started running. With a flick of my wand the tooth was in my backpack and the twenty was under his pillow. Despite the risk, I turbo blasted out, because my legs and arms had no power to be spared.

“You did great,” my father cheered when I came back to headquarters.

“Really,” I asked placing the tooth into the shadow box I bought in preparation of my first gig.

“Yes, you forgot to close the window behind you, but other than that I didn’t see any major mistakes.”

“The window,” I sighed. “I knew I forgot something.”

“We all do at some point. I remember my first time, back than it was a quarter a kid,” he smiled.

“Back then you could get a blue twill slurp for one tooth too. The more money we give the more children are willing to believe in us. We need all the believers we can get to make it as a tooth fairy in our society,”

“I am so proud of you for carrying on our legacy. That was a sight to watch.”

“It was a rush to experience too,” I couldn’t imagine any other occupation.

Shannon: “Did you see who they paired you up against,” Amber questioned immediately after she sat down across from me at the lunch table.

“No I was too afraid to look myself, but who is it,” I asked, trying to remain calm.

“Mags,” Amber barely uttered the word audibly. There was too much danger to speak openly about her without repercussions.

“So that’s what all the pity looks in the hallway were for,” I confirmed my suspicion as I looked around at all of the other students attempting to read my emotions. They were cowards themselves though as they always look away as soon as our eyes made contact.

“What’s your plan,” Jade spoke under her breath, as she looked me over.

I looked for Mags until I spotted her in the lunch line. I could only observe the back of her head, but everyone was giving her more than an arm’s length space to show their respect for her wishes. “I’m getting out of it,” I decided before standing up to walk over to her.

I cut in front of her and took the piece of dessert the chef had made specifically for her before she could grab it. My heart was pounding and I couldn’t look at her.

“What are you doing,” Mags growled. “That’s mine,” she grabbed my arm and I knew I couldn’t overpower her. I had to move fast, so I quickly shoved my face into the frosting taking a big lick and making a mess of face.

I could bare look up at her with a cocky smile, before her fist made contact with my face and I hit the ground. The lunchroom went into a panic, trying to get a look at our fight. I made a poor attempted to block with my arms to protect my face as she started whaling on me. Help eventually arrived in form a teacher. She broke us up with an ear-piercing whistle, “Enough, enough,” she yelled. “There is no fighting outside of our control locations,” she explained to both of us. Let this be a lesson to all of you,” she called out. “Both of you will be disqualified for the year. No more competitions, no more prizes. You’re done,” she said it like it was a bad thing. Mags immediately went to her to grovel.

My friends kneeled down to my level. “Are you ok? You’re crazy,” Amber checked my face, and I turned my head away to spit out my tooth into my hand, and then smile back at them.

“You’re a genius,” Jade smirked.

Someone is going to literally loose it.

Writing Prompt: Day 23

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Day 23 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about a seemingly bad situation that turns into a positive life change.

Erin: “How have you gotten to be where you are today,” the interviewer asked her broad and open-ended question.

“The biggest driver of my success has been resilience,” I gave my broad and open-ended answer. To be honest I frequently liked to test the skills of the interviewers I encountered. Being too talkative wouldn’t challenge them.

“How so,” her game was weak. She seemed too nice for me to continue on though, so I decided to make life easy on her and open up.

“This all started with my 6th concussion. I was dead set on playing college ball, and made sure to be back on the field quickly and as consistently as possible.”

“What sport did you play,” she clearly had not done her research.

“Football. My doctor recommended that I quit however. I was playing varsity as a freshman and we were a shoo-in to go to regionals. I couldn’t give up that easily,” I remembered back to my emotions that day.

“What did you do,” she interrupted my flashback.

“There was a chance that my brain could be permanently damaged if I continued, so my mother demanded that I quit. With my plan to go pro my brain didn’t seem to matter, but as a minor her opinion was the only one that mattered.”

“What does that have to do with resilience? Did you find a way to play?”

Her interest in the story was becoming slightly adorable, “Not quite. I hated my mother for ruining my chance at the NFL. I had to channel my anger somewhere and that place was the piano. Now I see how important a healthy mind is and I know how much more passion I have for music than I ever did for sports.”

“Wow,” her jaw hung open. She looked like a cartoon.

“I called my mom to thank her when I released my first album.” She giggled. “I used to think getting back up was resiliency, but resiliency is actually knowing when the universe is telling you to stay down and reach for other dreams. Having the strength to change direction is sometimes, if not most of the time, more noble than having the strength to struggle through.”

Shannon: “Maybe you’re not meant to be a singer. You don’t have the look. You have a basic voice. Maybe it’s time to consider another career,” the casting director advised with a straight face.

“So what are saying? I should try out for acting-only roles,” I hoped he’d give me some genuine advice.

“Do you want my honest opinion?”

My mind was screaming no, but my head nodded. I wanted the opinion of a person in his position, but I didn’t want to be discouraged if he was wrong about me.

“If I were you, I’d stop auditioning completely. Stop wasting your time. It’s not going to happen. I’ve seen a lot of young girls like you stick with this until they burned out with nothing to show for it. Life can be a lot easier if you stop chasing an unreachable goal.”

I tried to hold back, but the tears were building up, “But there’s nothing else I want to do,” I shrugged, hurt. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You’ll figure it out, and you’ll be surprised. I’m sorry, but we have more auditions and your time is up. Good luck,” he was still stern, but honest, and even though it was hard to hear, I believed him. No more auditions.

Once I walked out the theater into the fresh air I considered going home to cry and pity myself, but I’d done that enough already in life. I wanted to know where I was going. I wanted to find my new passion, my new love. The world was open to me. More open, I suppose, than it was for the people who already knew who they were.

I still wanted to spend my days singing, but I didn’t know who my audience was going to be anymore. As I walked downtown I paid more attention to the world to around me. I started a list in my head as I encountered people to sing to: people in bars, people at weddings, people in parks, animals, even objects.

I sat down at a bench in the park to take out the ukulele I choose to audition with to try to stand out. I just started playing. I didn’t want money, or to get noticed, or to simply have one person finally hear my song. I just sang, and belted it without any fear someone could stop me to tell me they’d heard enough. It felt good to go on uninterrupted, and to do it for myself. I felt happy, like I was actually doing what I loved. After I strummed my final note, I knew exactly what I wanted to do.

Look on the bright side of the prompt.

Writing Prompt: Day 22

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Day 22 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Make your character a prodigy at something mundane.

Shannon: Carl had a strange gift, but one that we all appreciated. He could clean up snow like no other, and never needed the help of any machines. Even when assistance was available, he’d never accept the help. They would only get in his way.

He told us he was going downstairs to clean up the parking lot about fifteen minutes before our workday was over. Everyone in our department immediately went to the windows. We never gave up the opportunity to watch, because the way he worked was nothing short of a dance.

His only tools were a shovel, a bag of rock salt, and his preferred blue and sliver snowbrush and scraper. He started with the sidewalk, shoveling it in a maze like pattern and releasing the build up with what looked like the flick of his wrist. After he was done he sprinkled the rock salt like confetti, spreading it with so much joy.

Next he moved onto the cars, he’d go around in the morning asking all of the employees during every snowstorm if they minded if he cleaned their car. Everyone was too grateful and trusting to deny his offer. Still he would ask anyway, too respectful to go on without permission. He was dusting the snow off the cars as if he were fighting off their demons, but still gentle on their structure as he scrapped away the ice hidden underneath. Snow was surrounding him like glitter. The way he cleaned snow turned the task into an art form.

Erin: “Do you have one of those folding mechanisms like they have a clothing stores,” my mom asked as she strolled into my walk-in closet.

“No,” I leaned on the door of the closet.

“So, you just folded these shirts like normal,” she asked holding up a white tee.

“Is that so hard to believe,” I didn’t get why she was so surprised. When I lived at home she always put my clothing away, but that didn’t mean I was incapable of doing the task on my own.

“The hems are perfectly lined up with the fold. It looks like a machine did this. You must spend hours putting this closet away, she continued to speculate.

“No longer than the average person,” I argued.

“You’re too much of a perfectionist, there is no need for them to be folded this perfectly,” she grumbled unfolding the top one.

“I don’t care if they are folded perfectly,” I illuminated fixing it within a few seconds. “I’m just good at folding.” I walked out as my mother looked to my closet in wonder.

Even something plain can be made amazing if someone has a talent for it. What is your character’s.

Writing Prompt: Day 21

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Day 21 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Give us insight into your character by describing their wardrobe.

Shannon: “Was grandma ever in any plays? I asked from the closet, pulling out an outfit with a black plastic cover and set it on the bed.

“Yeah. I’m sure it’s been mentioned to me a few times, but I have never been told many details. Why,” my father answered.

“I found a few of these in the back of closet,” I unzipped the cover, revealing a beautiful, green renaissance dress. “Looks like she’s held onto a few outfits.”

“Whoa,” my cousin, Amber, ran up. “She must have looked breathtaking in this,” she sprawled out the skirt to get a better look.

“Karen,” my dad called for his sister, who was looking through grandma’s photos, trying to figure out who should get what.

“Do you need something,” she questioned as soon as she was in the doorway.

“Do you know anything about the plays mom was in?”

She shook her head, sadly. “I used to ask, but she would always brush the conversation off. That women was so stubborn,” she wiped the corner of her left eye, and smiled. “But I did find some pictures. Why are you asking now?”

“Elise found some costumes,” my dad explained as Amber held it up to twirl dress around a bit.

“Oh my…” Karen didn’t finish her thought as put her hand over her mouth. “I asked her if she still had the costumes she made, and she told me she got rid of all of them.” She walked closer to examine its details. She smiled with a few more tears running down her face. “Let’s find out what else she kept.”

Erin: Tyler dressed for very few occasions, he always wore the same thing. A tee shirt and shorts would work for everything. Sometimes he would swap out his athletic shorts for khakis in events like formal weddings or awards ceremonies. If he really wanted to impress he would wear a polo shirt. His favorite combination was orange short and a black shirt with blue writing and a hole in the armpit.

I can remember a few times where he had to wear a button up and tie for a school performance. I would have said he looked nice, only all I could see was how stiff he was. Tyler wasn’t himself in those black pants, and I couldn’t blame him when he ripped them off the second he was home. Tyler may have been at risk for frostbite at times with his fashion choices, but at least he knew how he was happiest.

What you wear says a lot about you… I think they say that… What do you say?

Writing Prompt: Day 20

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Day 20 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Start with the line, “Even canned goods go bad eventually.”

Erin: Even canned goods go bad eventually. They turn sour. If you let them in at that point, they will hurt you. I think people are the same. Most of us are produce. Once you buy us you have a short period of time before we go bad. The best people are frozen or canned. Lenard was canned. For so many years of my life he was there for me. He would always be there in an emergency.

I didn’t know his expiration date until it was passed. I think I had been avoiding looking at the passed day. When I opened him up, I knew he was gone. He wouldn’t nurture me anymore, he would make me sick. He would ruin any other food he touched. He already ruined her. She could have him, and they could rot together.

I wasn’t shattered by this realization though. I knew he was human. No one was truly non-perishable. Even the most kind, loyal people were just slowly spoiling. The only way to avoid seeing it was to chew them up and swallow them before you got to see the damage.

Shannon: “Even canned goods go bad eventually,” my dad shook his head.

“No,” I argued. “Hugo can race again. He can win. I know it. I feel it,” I pet my horse’s neck. “We can’t sell him,” I begged.

“You’ve grown attached to him,” my father pitied me. “I told you not to do that. We couldn’t have any horses if we made decisions off of feelings,” he scolded. “Say goodbye now. It will be easier. I’ll be sending him off in the morning,” he advised with an emotionless face.

I started leading Hugo to the stall, but I could read it in his eyes: he needed another lap around the track. He was born to run, and since the first time we raced together I knew I was born to ride him. We were a partnership, one so smooth we had our own language.

I hopped onto his back immediately, since we were both still geared up. I never had to push him to race, and over time I’d learned to let him talk control. He was the best horse we ever had, and my first winner. I cued him to run after a minute of taking in the starting line with him. As the wind was rushing across my face, I held on tight to the reins. If he could run any faster we’d be flying. One bad race, and we were supposed to give this up? My dad was wrong. He slowed down after the first lap, as he was trained to do. “You’re not going anywhere buddy,” I whisper, leaning forward to hug his neck.

This could go many ways. This is what we went with, what would be your story?

Writing Prompt: Day 19

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Day 19 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Your character is stuck on a deserted island with an enemy.

Shannon: “Are you done spelling out help yet, or do you need me to bring you more rocks? This is taking way too long. There is only so much daylight left,” Russ complained.

“Shut up. I’m doing the best I can. You can place the rocks too if you are annoyed by my pace,” I defended myself, plopping down the rock I was holding more aggressively.

“I’m over this. I’m finding shelter and wood. We need a fire. Do it yourself,” he yelled before storming off.

“It wasn’t my idea to work together,” I mumbled, not feeling like putting up much more of a fight. In all honestly, I didn’t mind he was moving on to our next task. Not only would I get some freedom from him, but hopefully he’d complete his mission too.

When I finished the “P”, he had still not resurfaced from the trees. I could have faith in him, and believe that he’d done all he’d set out to do, but I knew him well, and that was unlikely. I started collecting my own fire building materials and piled them on the sand by the shore our raft washed up onto.

I still hadn’t found him after I was satisfied with my pile. I considered looking for him, but I knew he’d just yell at me for not doing anything useful with my time. I started carving out the stick I’d use to try to cause some friction. When I was at an acting camp as a child they challenged us to make a fire to teach a lesson on resilience. Based on the smoke that was steadily building, I could no longer say the instructors never taught me anything.

I had a strong fire building by the time Russ finally came back. “I couldn’t build a fire but I found a cave down the shore that way,” I heard him yelling before I could see him. “Oh, good,” he looked at my fire. “It turns out you are good for something.”

He pushed the last button keeping me under control. “You know what,” I got up to confront him, “Everyone who was on that plane with us didn’t make it to the raft. They didn’t get a second chance to appreciate the fact that they’re breathing. We could be dead, and all you want to do is spend whatever time you have left complaining,” I pushed his shoulders and he pushed back, accidentally knocking me to the ground.

“You think this is how I want to die,” he yelled, “Stuck on an island with a person I wouldn’t even want at my funeral?”

I smashed my hands into the sand, getting more riled up. “Do you know how sick I am of this stupid feud we’ve been having for the last few years? I get it, you think I stole your thunder. I stole you Oscar by being in the same movie as you and stealing the spotlight. I’m sorry I won, but eventually you’ve got to move on with your life. You can’t blame me for giving up on yourself. You’re a great actor, but now all you do is act like you’ve been wronged.”

“You didn’t play the role the way it was intended to be played. You went off script. I’ve been waiting my whole life to get in a movie with you again so I could prove everyone wrong, and now because of my selfishness my whole world went down with that plane,” I watched his face wrinkle and water slowly emerge from his eyes as he fell to his knees. He was in a relationship with the movie’s director, and my heart ached for him that he wasn’t able to save her.

I went over to rub his back, if he’d accept my offer, and he did. “She died doing what she loved, next to the person she loved most. We can only wish we’ll be that lucky” I stated and he nodded, breaking down a little more.

Erin: “Here, I had this in my pocket,” I offered Jim a piece of chocolate.

“What’s your motive fatty,” he mistakenly sassed back.

“My motive is that I was trying to be nice. Because dumb piece of trash, regardless of me detesting your presence, you are the one I am stuck with. You are the only person I have for potentially forever, so I was trying to be nice. But screw that and screw you. All gloves are off bub,” I grumbled deciding that learning how to make a fire was my best bet.

“Hey Jewels,” he ran after me. “Your right, I’m sorry.”

“This is never going to work. We are going to die here and the last ugly face I am going to see is yours,” I cried.

“No,” he put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be nicer. I actually really like you. We can have an okay time.”

“Yay, an okay time,” I mocked him, gathering up some twigs.

“No, what I am trying to say is I will put effort into this. I want a fresh start,” he offered.

“A fresh start,” I thought on it.

“Yeah,” he encouraged.

“Promise,” I asked not sure if I could trust him.

“Promise. Truce?”

A smile overtook my face as I knew my answer, “No I would rather be alone on this island than with you. I’m going to kill you.”

When in doubt make your characters’ lives harder.

Writing Prompt: Day 18

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Day 18 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write a story where the outcome is highly effected by weather.

Shannon: I watched my little sister looking out the window at the strong windstorm we were having. I thought she was just memorized by its strength, but then realized she was up to something as she grabbed a sheet of paper and slid it under the cracked window.

“Hey be careful. What you doing?” I ran over to her.

“I’m sending notes,” she smiled back at me and pushed another through the slot. It went zipping to the side immediately. It could end up anywhere in this weather.

“No you are littering,” I corrected her, picking up the rest of her sheets immediately. “Who do have to send notes to anyway?” I read the first one. Some letters were backwards and the words were spelt in kid’s speak, but I made out the first message. In crayon she had tried to write, I hope your day is happy and you smile a lot. I pressed my lips together, and smirked. She was more than a little adorable. “Is this for a friend?” I held it up.

She shook her head.

“Who is it for?”

“Everyone,” she cheered. “I want everyone to be happy. I drew them pictures too.”

I put my hand over my mouth. I was conflicted between whether I should cry or stop her. “Alright, I didn’t see you doing any of this if anyone asks, but that’s really nice,” I whispered putting up my hand to give her a very proud high-five.

Erin: My team had been working for years to make it to the national championship. The first time I pitched was before I could even read. So, I couldn’t help but feel like my life was leading up to this one life altering game.

In the bus on the way to the field I focused all of my energy into getting into the zone. My noise canceling headphones pared with keeping my eyes completely shut led to me successfully isolating myself in another land. I was about to head to another galaxy where the atmosphere would create the perfect medium to throw and wobble, drop, shake ball. I came up with that one when I was ten. Just as I hit the end of earths limits a tap on my shoulder brought me crashing back down.

“What,” I spat, my eyes landing on our catcher. He knew better.

“Look outside,” if I didn’t know better I would say we had crashed into a lake. The road was a river and the sky seemed to think there was still not enough moisture.

“Beautiful,” I was ready to go back and find my zone.

“Game’s cancelled,” he quickly elaborated, and just like that my life defining moment would be postponed for another day.

Some things are out of our character’s control… actually all things, they are in your control. Cool, you are powerful, use it.

Writing Prompt: Day 17

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Day 17 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Your character is punished in a weird/funny way.

Shannon: “The only way we are ever going to go to breakfast tomorrow is if we have some kind of repercussion when we don’t want to get up,” Charlotte determined as I was climbing into my loft for the night.

“Yeah, but what repercussion can overcome morning brain?” The promise of a blanket’s warmth was my weakness whenever our alarms would go off and Charlotte would question if we were going or not. Then we’d get into a charade of “if you want to” and “I don’t care” and eventually fall back asleep.

“Ooo I’ve got an idea. How about whoever gets up first gets to slap the person who is still sleeping in the face,” she suggested and then giggled maniacally.

Even though it was dark I felt the need to lift my upper body to rest on my elbows and look over to her. It sounded like the worst possible way to wake up, but definitely effective. “Are you serious?”

“It will work, won’t it?”

“I mean yeah,” I agreed with a laugh, “But I’m terrified. How am I supposed to sleep?”

“You only lose if you fall back asleep. It’s not like I’m going to quietly wake up and slap you in the face. It’s only fair. Are you in?”

“Mmm,” I hummed. “Ok I’m in.”

Next Morning:

“Still want to get breakfast or do you want to go back to sleep,” Charlotte questioned.

“Are you going to slap me in the face if I go back to sleep?”

She paused, “No, I never honestly thought I could bring myself to do it anyway.”

“Ahhh, I think I’d rather sleep,” I decided, feeling less pressure to stay awake.

“Ok,” she yawned and that’s the last thing I remember before dozing off again.

Whack. I woke up to a sharp pain in my cheek, and saw Charlotte standing over my bed. “Ha ha, you lose.”

“Hey,” I rubbed my faced. “You said you wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know me at all,” she shook her head. “But hey, on the bright side we finally get a good breakfast,” she shrugged.

Erin: My mother has always been a fan of cruel and unusual punishment. In her defense, I have always been prone to cruel and unusual behavior. The punishment always fit the crime, to a terrifying degree. The first time I stole I had to anti-steal, and no, not give to charity like one would assume. I had to sneak my belongings into stores and leave them on the shelves, where they would most likely be forgotten or thrown out. It made the punishment that much worse.

The time my mother deemed a skirt inappropriate that I then wore the next day to school was a start of a long two months and the first ever double whammy. First, I had to go to church in it to be judged by God and Pastor Nicole. The following months I had to let my mother dress me. My mom had bad taste when she was happy. Angry mom would do great in outfitting haunted house workers. She even bought me some new clothing, so I would have a turtleneck appropriate for the 111-degree weather. I still cringe when I see my polka dot top, knowing I had once worn it with plaid pants.

When I spent the night with my boyfriend she kicked me out and said I would have to act like an adult if I thought I was one. Crashing in his house ended my relationship with that boy. I don’t know if mom knew back then we couldn’t make it if we got too close. I may have just pushed her past her limit. I used to think my mom was a little nuts, and now looking back as an adult I know she’s nuts. But then again, here I am putting a parental lock on every TV channel other than the learning one, so I have no place to judge. But I mean, I turned out okay, right?

How you get people to behave does not always involve behaving yourself… think on that, and think on this, and write on this!

Writing Prompt: Day 16

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Day 16 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Let the three pictures inspire you.

Erin: I was taken from my home in the middle of one of my favorite memories. Dad says I need to start calling this my home, but I never will. The last day I was truly home I was out blowing bubbles with my father. I blew the biggest bubble I had yet. The bubble seemed indestructible. As it floated to a landing on the grass and rested I could swear it was a lawn ornament.

That all changed when the lady in pearls turned my orb into ice crystals. When the bubble froze past the tipping point it exploded into a glitter shield around her. Right before she disappeared the lady in pearls shouted, “It’s time Luke.”

Luke is my dad. Luke is now my teacher, my friend, my doctor, and my prison guard. Luke won’t tell me why we are here, or if we will ever get out. He is my only companion, but he refuses to admit what happened that day. He refuses to admit that we aren’t blowing bubbles anymore, but that we are trapped in one.

Shannon: I soon learned our lesson was in the woods today after decoding the note sitting on my teacher’s desk. I just needed to find a few more clues to lead me to him. The first one was hidden in a birch tree, the next under a well-studied stone, and finally I’d uncovered the red string that would lead me the rest of the way.

After a short distance, circling around a few trees and crossing one small stream, I’d reached my destination. He had his display board ready to go, and gestured for me to sit on a large tree stump. “Hey, I made it, don’t I get a prize,” I questioned, hopping onto the tree so I could squirm around until I was sitting pretzel-legged.

“You don’t get a prize unless you solve this riddle,” he corrected me.

“Boo,” I grumbled. “That’s not how this works.”

“How this works is I teach you to be a critical thinker. That’s why you’re in this class. Someone saw potential in you, and your prize is proving that they were right.”

“Well that’s no fun,” I folded my arms, trying to seem disinterested to get my way.

“You don’t find learning fun,” he asked, looking right through me.

“It’s a chore,” I lied, even though I secretly loved the challenge.

“Well that’s a pity,” he shrugged, “but you’re here, I might as well give you a problem anyway,” he waited for me to chime in, but I had nothing to add.  “So a woman with blonde hair, wearing pearls and a hat, is sitting in front of you. She presents you with three magical glass orbs, and says you may chose one as a gift and take on its power. One contains gold leaves, one contains rose petals, and the last one contains dandelion seeds. Which one do you choose?”

I thought for a few minutes, deducting what each one most likely symbolized. I figured gold symbolized wealth, the rose love, and the dandelion seeds power. Then again the gift could be deceiving.  Roses have thorns, dandelions are weeds, and gold can cause more trouble than it’s worth. There was too much risk in picking, and not enough information to deduct from. “I pick the pearls, if it’s an option,” I decided.

“I guess they are orbs,” my teacher smiled. “Sure you can have the pearls, but why not pick from the magic? What if one of the orbs had the power to made your life better?”

“You can’t miss what you never had. I couldn’t take the risk, because I couldn’t live with the regret. However, I am sure I could live with not choosing, and hopefully those gifts would come to me on their own.”

“Well, well. It looks like you don’t always need a prize after all.”

These picture ones are always fun, give it a go.