Day 168 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about a unique style.

Shannon: My best friend style didn’t gain her a lot of fans in school. Well some fans, but not the ones with any sense of fashion. When she first showed up with her superhero-like metal forearm band, holding strategically placed gadgets, I was a little confused. She was on the school’s robotics team, so I thought maybe it was project for the club, but she made it for her own fun. Everyday she was the only one sporting this attention-grabbing band. Most of the students would give her looks like she was crazy, and once the teachers determined it wasn’t a distraction they let her keep it on.

I’ll admit at was first a little embarrassed by the negative attention, but she owned it so well that I started to admire the ingenuity. Her arm had a laser projection virtual keyboard, a GPS compass, and any other random devices she could get her hands on. It was like being friends with secret agent and after a while it just became fun. She’d come in with a new retractable robot piece every month, and I started looking forward to seeing what she could create.

Erin: My sister always wore her hot pink baseball cap when we went to the amusement park. No matter what the rest of her outfit was she wouldn’t care if it matched at all. It contrasted her black hair so nicely though, but that is not why I liked it. The reason I loved her hat is that it made it impossible for me to lose her. Even if she got separated a quick scan would draw my eyes right to her head and saved me so much time.

What’s your character’s style?

Day 167 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about someone learning what being free means to them.

Erin: My initial reaction to falling in love with her was to push back. I didn’t want to be tied down, or restricted, or put someone else’s needs above my own. So, I decided to quit her. In attempting that I realized I had chosen my own prison. Loving her was secure, and worry free. In a room with her I was more myself than I could ever be apart from her. Half the time she knew what I wanted better than I did myself. Love should not have been compared to shackles and whips, it was open doors and endless possibilities. I needed her back, I needed my freedom back.

Shannon: I needed to walk. I had to move. I needed to get away from the box that outlined the perimeters of my world. How had my life become so small?

I wasn’t walking to forget. I was walking to understand. The trail was the only place remote enough and quiet enough to cleanse my mind. Still, even in a place with no distractions I couldn’t escape the fog that surrounded my brain. I call it a fog because it stops me from doing what I want. Deep down I know what I want, but I stop myself from reaching for it. I distract myself with something else to make up for what I’m missing out on.

I don’t know if I let the fog control me because I don’t think I will succeed, or if the fog is just familiar to me. Maybe I’m afraid to give up my comfort-zone even though I know I can’t stay here. Freedom to me means leaving the hesitations and the haze behind.

Knowledge will be your character’s freedom.

Day 166 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about what’s inside a homeless person’s backpack.

Shannon: It had been weeks now and he never came back for his bag. I didn’t know what had happened to him. I’d hoped he was okay, but it was impossible to get reach him unless we could spot him in person. I’d looked for him everyday with a little flicker of hope he’d appear out of nowhere with that heartwarming smile I’d already missed seeing everyday, but it was like he disappeared.

“Do you mind if I look though his backpack,” I asked my boss at the shelter. “Maybe he left something behind that can help us find out if he’s ok.”

“Yeah, I’d say it’s been enough time, but please don’t get your hopes up,” she reminded me with a pat on the shoulder before walking away.

I picked the bag up with care, not wanting to do anything to wreck the only possessions the man had left on this earth. I unbuckled the strap on the top of the backpack that secured a rolled-up fleece blanket. It was so thin, how could it be his only protection from the cold? How was it his only protection from the world?

I unzipped the main pocket, and a stuffed animal was the first thing that caught my eye. My mind wandered, trying to understand why it something he’d held onto. Was it for comfort? Was it his pillow? Did it mean something to him?

He had a change of clothes in the bag too. They’d held a certain odor as expected, but it didn’t stop me. He also had some snack bags and granola bars, probably things people had offered to him the last day we saw him. At the bottom there was a water bottle, a cheap pair of promotional sunglasses, a winter hat, and a pair of gloves.

I checked the small pocket in the front and found a photo of him with a young child. He once explained to me the story of how his son died, and how his life had spiraled down ever since that day. He told me he was trying to turn it around, and find some kind of meaning again. He never showed anyone this photo. I didn’t understand. He kept it with him for so long, why would he leave without it now? It seemed as if he had left it behind for us on purpose, and that hurt my heart.

Erin: She had collected some essentials: a blanket for when the nights got particularly cold, a water bottle to collect fountain water, a phone for prospective job prospects, even a bus pass for trying her luck in new areas. Things were starting to look up. She could feel things happening. Good things happening.

What does your character keep with them?

Day 165 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about a party.

Erin: I looked over to the corner the bar and saw the last person I expected. “What are you doing over here birthday girl?”

“I don’t feel well,” she grumbled.

“Did you drink too much honey?” I stooped down and rubbed her back.

“No,” she nearly spat at me. “I don’t want to be 30.”

“Why not,” I cautiously asked.

“This is basically a party for the end of my life,” tears started to pour from her eyes.

“No, it’s not,” I took the drink from her hand. “You’ve got so much life left.”

“Yeah, but the parts that determine my future are over. I’m never going to have my dream job, I’m never going to have a family and I am never going to get out of this dang town.”

“Your only one day wiser and farther than you were yesterday girl, and you have so many happy surprises ahead of you,” I encouraged but she just continued to cry. “You want a margarita,” I offered and she immediately perked up.

Shannon: Each of the rooms was lit up with the soft glow black lights, illuminating the neon paint designs on everyone’s skin. They’d only invited artist, so each design was beautifully executed. Everyone was a dancing, breathing art piece and I was captivated by the whole scene. Everyone had become their art, and isn’t that all we ever wanted, even if it was only for a night?

Give your character a chance to party.

Day 164 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write a story with a heavy focus on shoes.

Shannon: I have this one pair of shoes that have stuck with me through every crazy adventure. The best years of my life so far have been permanently etched into every inch of their makeup from the laces to outsoles. I shouldn’t still wear them anymore. They’re barely functional, but I feel this overwhelming comfort when they’re on my feet. When I have them on I feel the most like myself, and I have this fear that if I throw them out, I’ll be throwing away a lot more than a pair of wore out shoes.

Erin: “Where did you get this?” I ripped the boot out of my dog’s mouth.

He just looked at me with those little innocent eyes. And gave out a happy little bark.

I just sighed and boot in hand started knocking on my neighbors’ doors. While I was walking to the 5^th house I heard a man yelling at me. “So, you’re the person who wants me to be late to work.”

“This is your boot?” I spun around and immediately went mute.

“It’s not nice to steal people’s work boots,” he looked out of the top of his beautiful eyes.

“I didn’t, it was…”

“I saw your dog,” he interrupted. “Make me diner to make it up to me,” he grabbed the boot before I could argue and started walking away. “I’ll be at your by 6:30.” I didn’t know what to do, but then does anyone when they meet their future husband.

Help us walk a mile in your character’s shoes.

Day 163 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about an unlikely hero.

Erin: A baby saved my life. When I was running to my job one morning I was stopped dead in my tracks right before I stepped into the road. Her cry locked me to the car before I would have run right in front of the semi that would have plowed me over. I would have been startled had I not been so concerned by the distressed child. Without a second thought I took off my heels and cracked the window open. I had no choice, that sweet overheating face saved me and I needed to save her.

Shannon: “Now that’s a sight you don’t see everyday,” I heard Jake’s voice creeping up behind me. I cursed under my breath. He was the class clown and I was giving him material he could use for a lifetime. I prayed he was alone as I turned around, with a huge hallway poster wrapped around my body like a dress.

I was taking a shower after this morning’s practice and the other girls on the team left me without any clothes. They were always out to get me. I guess they finally won. Luckily he was the only standing there. “Go head, I know you’ve got some clever joke. Get it over with, take a picture, and humiliate me more. I don’t care. They’re not going to make me quit, even if they hate me,” I looked down, trying to believe myself and muster up the courage to head to administrative office.

“Who took your clothes,” he questioned getting a little closer. I backed against the wall afraid he’d take my only shield away. He looked concerned. I’d never seen him wear that emotion.

“As far as I can tell the whole dance team,” I shrugged, gripping the paper tighter against my chest. “What are you going to go find them and praise their work,” I questioned, not knowing why I was so mad at him. He didn’t do anything, not yet.

“No, I know the difference between a joke and harassment. They’re jerks and I tend to focus my humor on those who deserve it. I consider it my own brand of karma,” he smiled. “Go back to the locker room, I’ll get you some clothes.”

I couldn’t understand why he was being nice to me. It seemed out of character. “How do I know it’s not a trick?”

“Here,” he took off his coat and a sweater he was wearing over a t-shirt then handed them to me. “They’re not much but they’re better than a poster, right,” he smirked.

What makes your character a hero?

Day 162 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about a cast working on a musical.

Shannon: “No, no, no,” Ms. Hill, our director, threw her head back in frustration. “That’s not your cue. You enter after verse five, right before the chorus. Jenny you’ve got to get this right or we can pick someone else to lead the group.”

“No I’m sorry I’ve got this. I just got confused. Please give me one last chance,” she begged putting her hands together like she was praying.

“Alright, one last chance, but do you need me to mark where you need to stand because you were wrong on that one too,” Ms. Hill questioned, clearly not convinced.

David laughed out loud next to me, and I nudged him with my elbow. He was the lead, “Shhhh,” I warned as Ms. Hill grabbed her tape and went back to the group. We didn’t need him scaring anyone off. We had to recruit students to fill most of the roles, and we needed every one of them.

“Aw come on, in it’s all in good fun,” he whispered. “Let’s be honest, this year’s musical is going to be mess,” he shrugged. “We take it too seriously and we’ll go crazy. I don’t know about you, but I want to have fun.”

“I do too, but just give them a chance to build some confidence,” I reminded him.

He nodded, “Okay,” he gave in.

Erin: I loved my fellow cast mates. With them the musical never ended. They had the same amount of drama, the same about of laughs, but most importantly the same amount of songs. When we were working on sets they sang. When they were angry they would do sing offs, which were slightly ridiculous and slightly awesome.

Write about songs and acting and a group of people doing that.

Day 161 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about a photographic memory.

Erin: Everyone always thinks that having a photographic memory is convenient, but I find it to be the opposite. There is so much information in my brain to sort through. It is like trying to accomplish anything in a hoarder’s house at times. Plus, there are photographs I would like to burn.

Shannon: I remember everything I’ve ever witnessed in perfect detail, and sometimes I’m not sure if my gift is blessing or curse. Memories play in my head like movies filmed through the precision camera lenses of my eyes, and they can be so wonderful. I often like to replay them, but sometimes they get in the way.

I know when people are lying, and whenever something goes wrong I can go back and find the exact reasons why everything fell apart. I hate myself for doing it, but it just happens. Randomly I’ll be leading my brain through tangents, and suddenly my mind flashes though the past and pauses on a specific point in time where I had missed important details earlier. I go back and see the look of disappointment on someone’s face. I see the one awful statement that so easily slipped out of my mouth. I catch the glossy eyes right before a person’s head turns away.

I have access to all the answers, and I should be grateful, but I can’t help thinking my life would be a lot more enjoyable if I was in the dark like everyone else. Then my memories couldn’t ruin the present, and I could live without picking everything apart.

Write about an above average memory.

Day 160 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about a character’s outdoor decorations.

Shannon: Mrs. Wilson was always a proponent of self-expression though decorations that spoke to her heart. I’d always admired the ones she kept outside. She had a modest little village of fairy homes located in her backyard garden. They were very intricate, and whenever I saw them I’d get this rush of childlike wonder, hoping the magical creatures were real and truly did need shelter from time to time. I found it cute how she’d place a gnome holding a walking stick nearby that seemed to be watching over them.

Erin: I never understood my neighbors. They had completely lost the character of the house when they moved in. They cut down the tree in the front yard, and removed the garden. All that was left was grass, and one statue. It was of a ladybug riding on a tortoise back. It was not substantial enough to stand alone. Yet that is what it had to do. I never got over there to ask them if the lawn ornament had any particular meaning to them. I would today.

How does your character make their house beautiful?

Day 159 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Modernize a princess story.

Erin: My manager told me that to be a part of the top 100 list I would need to be a different person. He said this because every woman singer who was passing me up was prettier than me. So, the second my 18^th birthday came I went straight to the plastic surgeon.

“What work are we looking to do,” he asked.

“I want to look like a different person,” was my response. He was shocked and thought I was overexaggerating, but I was serious.

I invested all of the money I had currently made off of my music. I sucked out my fat, plumped up my boobs, re-sculpted my nose, and lifted my face. After I had my majors I had a hair appointment, waxing and tanning on the schedule. In my transformation storm, I had not time to evaluate my evolution.

There were so many scars. In that time frame, I was isolated from my potential fans and the current ones I had. I used the time for writing and recording my new album. Once all of my healing was done and my release date hit I made my first awards show performance. It was a hit and I was accepted into the world of mega fame.

For a long time, I thought I had lost my loyal fans I had won over as my old self. Eventually though they realized I was the same artist. I managed to be a part of both worlds and I even hit number one. I felt like I was getting my happy ending, but only time would tell how my life was about to change.

Shannon: “I know you’re going through a tough time right now, but you have to stop acting out like this Al,” my foster mom scolded me as we walked to the car.

“How are you so sure I actually did it? They found it in Abu’s vest, anyone could have put it there,” I reached down to ruffle the golden retriever’s head.

“So you’re saying people completely ignored the bright red vest that says please do not pet me I’m working,” she quickly foiled my lie.

I shrugged, “You know how it is. They see a dog and they just have to touch it,” I joked but didn’t get a laugh.

“You’re just lucky they didn’t press charges,” she spoke sternly over the top of the car before getting inside and slamming her door. I always felt bad making her life harder, she was doing the best she could for all of us, but her heart was bigger than her wallet. There were things I needed that I didn’t want to burden her with, so I tried to find another way. Especially since it turned out to be harder than expected to find a minimum wage job that that could accommodate a kid with a service dog, but I’d keep looking.

She grounded me for the next two weeks, giving me plenty of time to apply for more jobs I probably wouldn’t get. What I really needed was win a lottery, but I was still to young to enter. That got me thinking of contests. I couldn’t be too young for all of them, and what could it hurt? I did a quick search and that’s when I found one called Magic Lamp.

Take an old fashioned tale and bring it to this decade.