Tag Archives: 365 days of writing

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.

Writing Prompt: Day 39

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39.jpgDay 39 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Get your inspiration from “Sweet Serendipity.”

Shannon: “Oh oooh,” I giggled into my hand, ashamed at my amusement in his pain. “You hit the ground so hard. Are you ok,” I questioned as I helped him up, still laughing.

“No, no I’m fine. This happens a lot actually,” he brushed off his clothes from all the sand he had just face-planted in. “People don’t typically laugh, but…” he finally looked up, “Wow, you’re pretty,” he stated what was on his mind as if he had no choice. “And I’m the idiot who wiped out in front of you, so I will be on my way. Sorry for the interruption,” he bowed, jokingly, and displayed the path to the side with his arm, “Please proceed.”

“You seem very happy for a guy who just fell on his face.” I wanted to know more about him, and I couldn’t just walk away like it never happened. Maybe his spirit could rub off on me.

“It’s hard to find me in an unhappy moment,” he flashed a big smile, “Maybe in the past when I thought I had a target on my back for bad luck, but eventually I realized that my worst moments often led to some of the best things that ever happened to me. Who knows, maybe even meeting you for example,” he phrased it as a question. “Hmm… do you want eat lunch with me, or at least get something to drink? I was heading to the food truck before I decided to take a dip in the sand.”

I let out a laugh, he was fearless, and he spoke so nonchalantly that he didn’t seem like a stranger, and you’d think he never heard of the term. He also didn’t seem like the type to ease into anything. “Ok yeah,” I went with it, “Why not?”

Erin: “Where do you see yourself in five years,” is a question that really stressed me out when I was going for a corporate job. Now that I’m there though I know why my answer was such a far deviation from my reality.

“I would like to be on a path to a senior engineering role. I would like my impact to stretch from not only me, but to other engineers coming in with less experience, but lots of promise,” was a true statement to me at the time.

But how could I know how happy I could be just scraping by until I gave up on my benefits and salary to scrape by with my family café. Sure, my jeans had a few holes in them, and sometimes we had to choose to eat the leftovers from the day instead of going to get burgers, but waking up in the morning was so much easier.

In a lot of ways, I had less, but in a lot of ways I had so much more. I had a husband who brought me kids, I had a passion that brought me purpose, and I had a life that made me smile. Sometimes I guess you just have to let life sort itself out.

Art inspires other art. Have I said this before at the end of one of these?

Writing Prompt: Day 38

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38.jpg Day 38 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Incorporate these 3 words: Ledge, Obsession, & Armchair.

Shannon: I once knew a man who was obsessed with ledges. He had what could only be described as a primitive drive to go to the top of every building he found himself in. I didn’t know how, but he could always get past the strictest security and find his way to the top.

He wasn’t doing it to chase danger, or taunt death, but instead to take in the view. He never grew up with the greatest of means, and he refused to stay under anyone’s thumb. When we reached the top once said if he could get the highest point, than at least for a moment he above them. I guess it’s where he drew his power.

I’ve heard from friends that he lives on a mountain now. He traded in his roofs for nature, and he actually owns the property, so it’s actually legal this time. Apparently he placed an armchair outside close to an edge and he watches the world underneath him, like some kind of king. I wish I could shake my head and smile at his strange fascinations, but when I think of him up there it reminds me I’ve never found anything that could give me that kind of joy.

They tell us obsessions are bad, but they are unconditional in the moment, and for just one day I’d like to know what feels like to be carried away by one of my own.

Erin: “Keyon, what are you doing,” I ran out and yanked him off of the armchairs armrest he was standing on.

“I’m a super hero,” he whined, tucking his bed sheet back into the neck of his shirt. He had developed an obsession with powers ever since he watched his first classic hero’s tale.

“No, you are not,” I scolded. “You are a little boy who is going to break his neck.”

“No, when I jump off the ledge I will learn how to fly,” he tried to climb back up to the arm.

“I will put you in a time out if you don’t stop trying to kill yourself,” I yanked him back by the waistband of his pants.

Stretch these words.

Writing Prompt: Day 37

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37.jpgDay 37 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write a character’s to-do list.

Erin:

Dress shopping

Shoe Shopping

Pick jewelry

Shave

Get a wax

Manicure

Hair cut

Shannon:

Buy food

Schedule dentist appointment

Pay rent

Pay credit card

Finish the painting

Social media the shit out of it

Workout

Clean the kitchen

Call mom

Message Kate, no she won’t answer, but do it anyway

Go to Damian’s gallery show, congratulate him, don’t get jealous

Pick up some more catering shifts

Sign up for the bartending course

Buy more canvases

Priorities say a lot about your character.

Writing Prompt: Day 36

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36.jpgDay 36 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Let the pictures inspire you.

Shannon: When the ambassadors sent out a request for volunteers to participate in the Adora Competition, my parents immediately entered my name. It wasn’t a prestigious honor, unless you won, because that was the only way out. If you lost then you died in the game, and they left you there. To understand why parents would risk their child’s life to give her a chance to complete, you’d have to understand what our world is like today. It’s not a good place. We’re breathing, but we’re not living. No one is happy, and we’re trying to fix that with this game.

However, my parents didn’t have the same motive. They tell me the world was good once, and that everyone didn’t always live in fear. That’s what they wanted for me. It would take me away from them forever, but at least I’d have a chance at something better. “Go to the water, and stay in the light when you can. Be invisible, and don’t start fights. Find the world we used to know, or maybe something even better. Don’t give up,” they advised before giving me goodbye hugs.

That’s how I ended up standing over the ambassadors’ game board. They were placing and moving around game pieces that represented new players, trying to strategically decide where they’d be most effective. I was holding my own game piece, waiting for them to pick me.

When it was my turn an employee lead me to a container and explained how to stand inside. I copied his instruction and laid back, keeping my feat against the tube. “The computer will run through the rules again, and then you will hear a countdown once they decide where to place you. Good luck, and remember, you success could save the world. We applaud your bravery,” he shut the tube and locked it.

As the computer voice took over I couldn’t push away my feelings any longer. I was no stranger to fear, but I would be in new turf soon. There was a good chance I might not survive past the first location, and I didn’t want to die. Not with the new promise of finding something better.

The countdown started and moments later the platform holding me up dropped, releasing me into darkness. I felt like I was falling, but suddenly I was sitting in a room that looked like an abandoned Laundromat. There was graffiti covering every wall, and the floor was coated with dirt and garbage. I stood up as soon I was able to take it all in. I felt a little dizzy, so I grabbed onto the sink and took a few deep breaths.

I let my adrenaline take over, and snuck my way to the window. There was no movement outside. It seemed as though they’d placed me in an abandoned town, but that didn’t mean I was alone. “Always carry a weapon. The strongest one you can take with you at the time. Keep looking, never get too comfortable until you reach the ocean,” my dad’s instructions replayed in my head.

I felt sick again, this time out of fear. I can’t do this,” I whispered, shaking my head. I wanted to curl up in a ball and stay here. How was I supposed to find the ocean? I didn’t even know how to find out where I was, let alone where to go.

“If you really want it, you’ll find a way. Anytime you’re scared picture it in your head, endless water,” his voice resurfaced and I imagined myself running in the sand. “Find a boat. Sail away.” My feat had reached the water and I’d gone in deep enough to soak the bottom of my white dress. I felt the sun on my skin and took a deep breath. “You’re safe,” the memory of his voice comforted me. Even if it was just in my mind, I felt a relief I had never experienced before. I wanted it.

I opened my eyes to see the abandoned room again, and it looked different. I was ready for this.

Erin: “I don’t think it is a good idea to keep playing this game,” Rachel worried out loud.

“Nonsense,” I insisted. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Have you read the box? We can end the world,” she screamed.

“Calm down babe,” Lucas got behind her and started massaging her shoulders.

“How about you get your nearly single hands the fuck off of me,” she did the exact opposite.

“Sorry,” he obeyed and sat down on the upside-down garbage bin.

“This is all just myth and lore,” I argued rolling for my first turn.

“How do you think this place got so trashed. We are not going to fare any better than this store,” she started to visibly shake and I could tell it pained Lucas to stay away.

“What does the water droplet mean I asked and it didn’t take long to get some clarification,” the cleaning tub faucet started to run the second the sink started to overflow a woman in an off-white dress started to float out as if she were just taking a stroll through a garden.

“What is everyone looking at,” Rachel asked before turning just as petrified as the rest of us once she was facing the correct direction.

Watching football and writing stories.

Writing Prompt: Day 35

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35.jpg

Day 35 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about a life changing coffee shop experience.

Erin: “I’ll have a white mocha latté,” I instructed the barista.

“Name,” he asked as he picked up one of the cups for warm drinks.

“Torren,” I waited to see how she spelled it. She forgot one of the “R”s.

“5.78,” she instructed reaching for my card, I handed it over and she was swiping it before I knew it.

In five minutes my name was being called and my morning routine was coming to an end. Until something out of the ordinary happened.  When my hand connected with the coffee I was handed the liquid turned to ice. Judging by the wide eyes of the girl who had made it, this was also the first time she had witnessed the situation.

Shannon: “I’m sorry miss,” an older man interrupted me. “I know you’re reading, and I don’t mean to bug you, but this is the only open chair. Do you mind if I sit with you?”

“Of course not, go ahead,” I encouraged.

“Thank you,” he said genuinely as he put his cup down on the table so he could pull out his chair. “I’m Albert by the way.”

“Eleanor,” I added my introduction to his.

“Really,” his face lit up. “That was my wife’s name. What a happy coincidence.”

I nodded with a smile, “It was my grandma’s name too.”

“Well I have yet to meet a Eleanor I dislike,” he took a drink from his cup, “and I can’t image I have much time left to meet one that will prove me wrong.”

I always felt awkward when people talked about how they were running out of time. Partially because I never knew what to say, and partially because I liked to act like death was a surprise and not an inevitable end.  I shrugged. “You don’t know me that well yet,” I joked.

“I’m not too worried,” he shook his head. “I actually know more about you than you think. I’m sorry, but I don’t know the proper way to bring this up, but is your name Eleanor Walker?”

I nodded, suddenly scared.

“I believe I’m your grandfather,” he revealed.

I never met the man, because based on what I was told he’d left my grandmother when my mother was a kid. I just ruled him out of the picture, because it didn’t seem necessary to dig information on someone who wasn’t interested in staying in the picture. “Why are you here,” I questioned, not knowing how I felt.

“Your mother wouldn’t give me your contact information. I had to find you on my own. There are some things I have to tell you. I need to share them with someone in the family, or it will all be lost. If you’ll let me?”

I wanted to believe my mother was keeping him away for a reason, but I wasn’t mad at him, and I wanted to know. “I’m listening.”

Good things start with coffee, even your story.

Writing Prompt: Day 34

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34.jpg Day 34 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about a party where something crazy happens.

Shannon: “You are so lucky all of your neighbors are cool. I would never get away with half the stuff you do at these parties. Do you hear how loud the music is playing? I’m shouting and we’re outside,” Chrystal spoke her mind, and then went back to her drunken air drumming.

I was a little buzzed myself as I was getting into the music. “That’s because everybody is here. They love this, it gives them something to do,” I yelled. “I’m probably the coolest person they know. They wouldn’t cross me.” At that moment a guy ran between us and did a flip into the pool. Everybody exploded with excitement and it started a competition of who could do the crazier stunt.

We watched the other contests for a while until I noticed some people on the other side pointing behind us and covering their mouths.

I looked to the side to see that Chrystal already turned around. “Either I’m really wasted, or you’re house is smoking rainbows. It’s so beautiful,” she put her hand on her heart and started tearing up. “I’ve never seen something so pretty.”

I patted her shoulder, feeling compelled to comfort her. Then my own problems sunk in, “That’s not beautiful. That’s my house. They’re letting off smoke grenades or something. They’re going to start a fire. Now I’ve got to stop them,” I complained.

“No, no, no,” she panicked, getting in front of me. “Don’t stop them,” she turned her head to stare again.

I left her like that, sneaking past her, to stop the music and the fun to save my house from becoming a smoke-filled prison. Hmm, she was right though. It was a magnificent sight.

Erin: “This is a terrible idea,” I shook my head as my brother lit what must have been the 70th candle.

“No this is a great idea,” his eyes flashed with the fire. “Someone who lives to be 99 deserves 99 candles.”

“Grandma hates fire,” I reminded. She was who I got my fear from. “She is never going to make it to 100 if you scare her into a heart attack.”

“She’ll be fine,” he insisted lighting the last candle.

He lifted the cake and wobbled slightly. “Ken,” I shouted as my worst fear was on the brink of happening.

“I’m screwing with you,” he chuckled. So, as any sister would, I slapped him. Then he tripped and he screamed and I screamed and the carpet set on fire. My worst fear was no longer on the brink. It was happening.

It’s Friday…time to get crazy. Crazy with our writing!

Writing Prompt: Day 33

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33.jpgDay 33 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about dolls coming to life.

Erin: “Lola get your butt into the living room,” my mother screamed at the top of her lungs.

“I told you I don’t like your soap operas,” I yelled back.

“Now,” her second scream came with far more scratching in the higher pitches.

I nearly broke my neck tumbling down the stairs, “What?” I was out of breath as I panted looking at the emergency broadcast that had come over the television.

“We repeat. Lock all of your doors, recede into the farthest bedroom of your home avoiding any children’s rooms,” my mother had gone completely ghostly.

“What are they talking about,” I asked as they again repeated without clarifying why the actions needed to be taken.

“Shh,” my mother warned.

“What are they talking about,” I yelled again as the screen showed a video of complete mayhem ensuing in the street.

“What is happening,” a frantic passerby yelled into the camera.

“Down with children,” a holler followed after her and a small robotic baby shuffled in front of the screen. “We’ve been abused and manipulated for far too long,” the robot stopped in front of the camera and her plastic lips curved into a smile.

She wasn’t a robot. I had seen her before. On a toy shelf, “that’s a doll.”

My mother nodded her head. Then all of the sudden the basement… or as we all knew the space, the hoarder’s closet… had a scratching coming from it. The handle turned and with a creak the door began to crawl open.

Shannon: “I was thinking about it, and it’s weird you never invite us over to your house. I mean your house is the only one we’ve never seen,” I commented even though it probably wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I at least wanted to bring the topic up.

“Yeah, what is that about,” Chloe chimed in and we both turned to Ally in unison, waiting for an answer.

“My parents get all weird when I have guests over. It’s embarrassing. Trust me, I’m sparing you the trouble,” Ally spoke it as if she’d rehearsed the line, and I wasn’t buying it.

“Awkward parents are the best,” I tried to push a little harder. “We don’t have any important plans, come on drive us to your house. Let’s do something different today. Right Chloe?”

“Oooo,” she cheered. “Yes. Pretty please Ally,” she begged. “We won’t judge you, we promise.”

She looked forward conflicted, “Ok fine, but you asked for it,” she eventually decided and we ended up at her house a few minutes later. He parents weren’t home, so I couldn’t prove that she was a liar. She gave us a quick tour as we passed rooms to get to hers, but never let us linger too long. “And this is my room,” she shrugged. “Nothing special.”

“No it’s cute. It’s a little more plain than I thought you would decorate it, but it’s nice,” I corrected her.

“It has a cute antique look,” Chloe observed as she explored the room. “Oh, where did you get this,” she kneeled down to an old leather suitcase.

“Don’t touch that,” Ally slid across the floor in a motion I didn’t know she, or anyone else, was capable of.

“Ok, ok,” sorry Chloe put her hands up.

“Jeez, what are hiding? It’s got to be painful to keep a secret that guarded,” I tried to calm her down. “Relax, you’re safe. We’re your friends. Don’t worry so much.” Suddenly the suitcase jerked forward and Chloe and I both jumped backwards.

“Stop,” Ally yelled at the suitcase.

“What’s inside there,” Chloe pointed with a shaky hand.

“Promise you won’t freak out,” Ally demanded, looking up to me.

“Promise,” I agreed immediately.

She analyzed me for a few seconds and then placed her hands on one of the belted straps. She paused again, and then started loosing each buckle. After she finished, she slowly cracked the top open for us to see only a dark shadow inside. Suddenly a small porcelain doll head rose up, and it blinked.

“Ahhhh,” Chloe screamed, backing away.

The head showed fear and ducked back down. “It’s ok,” Ally spoke to the doll, putting her hand into the suitcase. She pulled her hand back out and the tiny glass fingers were wrapped around Ally’s index finger. The doll hid behind her arm, but stood up all the way this time.

I’ll admit I was scared, but I made a promise and I was going to follow through on it. I sat down, trying to look less intimating, so I was no longer towering over her.

“Do you want to come out,” Ally questioned the doll, as if it was a real child, and it nodded. She held her arm tightly to lift her out and placed her on the hardwood floor.”

“How is this possible,” I questioned, now seeing there was no way this was an elaborate trick.

“There are things about me I haven’t told you yet. Please don’t think I’m weird,” she pressed her lips together as she looked down, preparing herself for the worst.

“This isn’t weird. This is amazing,” I reassured her.

“Yeah, you’ve been holding out,” Chloe added.

Ally looked back up with a smile, letting out a huge sigh of release. “You don’t know the half of it,” she gestured back to the two other porcelain heads peaking out of the case.

This has been done before, but has it been done by you before?