Alrighty, here's yesterday's! I'll try to get them out on time every day, but as I don't have internet at home, it's a little interesting :)
1/27/10
Prompt: "Believing is a lie..." (NaNo)
He looked at me, his eyes clear and serious. “Martie,” he said quietly. “Believing is a lie.”
I sat back in my seat, thunderstruck. Believing is a lie. And I knew, deep in my mind, that he was right. It was a lie. All the little idiosyncrasies I’d noticed as a child, all the little questions my Sunday School teacher had been unable to answer—it was all a lie. How could a religion that preached peace and love worship a god who had caused so much wanton destruction? I knew it to be true—the bible verses were there, the stories of God sending his soldiers to massacre entire peoples, the stories of Jesus sending people to burn in eternal hell, simply because they didn’t believe he was the messiah. I shook my head a little, trying to clear my thoughts.
How was this possible? How could everything I’d believed in be a lie? But it was. The evidence was there, right before my eyes. Religion was man-made, created by people. I’d been duped, as had my parents before me. What else explained the fact that religion set so many ‘human’ rules, so many guidelines that only benefited the higher-ups on the food chain? I mean, think about it. The Mormons had Joseph Smith, a man whose continuous ‘revelations’ enabled him to fleece hundreds of people for money, and allowed him to sleep with pretty much anyone he wanted.
I looked up at my friend, and saw the abject truth in his eyes. With a deep breath, I smiled shakily at him. “You’re right,” I said softly. “Believing is a lie.”
Total Time: 5 minutes
Word Count: 272
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
On Time Now!
Alright, here's all of them up to the 26th! From here on out, it'll be one a day, every day, until December 31st! Oh, and wonder of wonders, after eons spent searching the internet for sentence prompts, I remembered something--National Novel Writing Month. The NaNo boards are full of writing prompts, in fact, every year there's a thread dedicated to them in one of the forums. Since family members have been somewhat less than forthcoming with the prompts, most of the following ones will be taken from the NaNo boards.
*Side note to Abbie: I love your prompts! I'm thinking about starting February off with them...
1/20/10
Prompt: “I met somebody new…” (NaNo)
“I’ve met somebody new.”
The words reverberated through her skull. He had met someone new. How could he have done this? What was wrong with him? Didn’t he know she was perfect? Didn’t he know that Lana LaShane never got dumped, especially for some two-bit tramp from the Lower East Side.
Lana fingered the small pistol she held cradled in her lap. No, no one dumped Lana LaShane. Ever.
Total Time: 3 minutes
Word Count: 69
1/21/10
Prompt: “The puppy was a cute little ball of fluff…” (Me)
She smiled as she walked into the pet shop, her eyes immediately drawn to the little labradoodle puppy in the kennel right be the door. He was adorable. The puppy was a cute little ball of fluff, with floppy ears and curly beige fur. He looked like a cross between a dust mop and a fleece throw pillow. His little pink tongue lolled out of his mouth as he jumped up behind the fence, as if begging to be held.
She went over to a clerk and pointed. “May I see him, please?”
Total Time: 2 minutes
Word Count: 93
1/22/10
Prompt: “No, not right now,” she said, exasperated.” (Me)
“Mommy! I wanna cookie!” The sounds of the petulant child were all she’d been listening to all day, and she was exhausted.
“No, not right now,” she said, exasperated.
“But Mommy!”
“Cara! That’s enough! You’ve already had a cookie!” She turned away and ran a hand through her stringy ponytail. She hadn’t had time to shower yet, and it didn’t look like it would happen today. Suddenly, the phone rang, a loud disruption among the sounds of the whining child.
“Hello?” She answered the phone tiredly, the exhaustion evident in her voice.
“Hey, Honey, it’s Mom,” came the voice on the other line. “You sound exhausted, sweetie. Hey, I’m coming through town, why don’t I pick up Cara and take her for the night? You could use a break.”
Caroline had never before heard such beautiful words. “Mom, you’re an angel, I love you.”
She could almost see the smile on her mom’s face as she answered. “I know, I’ll see you in a bit, love you!”
Total Time: 5 minutes
Word Count: 146
1/23/10
Prompt: “A butterfly flew overhead…” (NaNo)
It was a beautiful summer’s day. The sky was clear and blue, with not a cloud to be seen. A gentle breeze wafted across the field, and a delicate yellow-winged butterfly flew overhead. Tiny creatures scurried to and fro, going about their daily business, gathering food, and making nests. Songbirds sang among the tall grasses, and the calm buzzing of bees added the bass line. All in all, it was a wonderful day.
Total Time: 2 minutes
Word Count: 73
1/24/10
Prompt: “The tattered stuffed animal on the bare mattress seemed to scream ‘Find her! Find her!’” (NaNo)
Detective Peterson looked around the grungy apartment. The sobs of the girl’s mother echoed in his ears as he scanned the small space for any clues, anything that would help lead to the girl’s whereabouts. He moved into her room, a place little more than a closet. It was Spartan, with only an old mattress and a battered dresser. Then his eyes fell on something. It was small, a mere detail, but the tattered stuffed animal on the bare mattress seemed to scream “Find her! Find her!”
The detective took a deep breath. He would find this child. There was no doubt in his mind. Already, his team was working furiously to come up with a list of suspects, one the mother had said would be fairly short. She had a good idea who had taken her daughter, and now it was up to the police to find her. And they would. So help him, they would find her.
Total Time: 3 minutes
Word Count: 159
1/25/10
Prompt: "The coding flew over the monitor like a serpent with wings…” (NaNo)
Hunched over an ancient monitor in a dark, cave-like room, the young man known only as Jefe, typed furiously as he watched the numbers scroll across the screen. The keyboard he used was old, stained, and several of the key caps were missing, but it didn’t matter. Jefe could type blindfolded if he had to, and not lose a single word per minute. An alarm sounded, but he didn’t seem to hear it, and it continued, adding to the sound of whirring machinery. The alarm grew louder, more insistent, and finally, the young man looked up. When he realized what the alarm was for, he stumbled out of the ramshackle computer chair, setting it back on its three wheels when it tipped over. Fumbling his way through a maze of blue and red computer wires, he managed to find the microwave hidden beneath a pile of coding. He shoved a plastic bowl in it and punched the numbers in, setting it to warm up his meal before he made his way back to the precarious chair.
He began typing almost immediately, his eyes flicking back and forth as the coding flew over the monitor like a serpent with wings. He was almost finished. Once he completed this line of code, then the uplink would be established and the group would be able to access the government satellites. There were other hackers in Beijing, Taiwan, even Iceland, who were working with him, working to get the uplink established, hidden, and trapped. Anyone who found it would be left with a nasty surprise that would cripple their computer systems long enough so that the group could erase all traces of their uplink. Jefe was in charge of this portion of the mission, but he didn’t know who else was on board. He only knew their handles, there was Ice, the one who designed the viruses, there was Bolthole, the one who set up the escape hatchways, and there was Hex, the one who ‘armed’ the viruses. Together, along with several other hackers, they were close, just a hairsbreadth away from total power. They would be able to see everything, not just from one government, either, they would be able to tap into the satellite systems of all the major players in world politics, the United States, the United Kingdom, China, Japan—no one was safe from the hackers. They were the best, and they would triumph. No one could catch them, because no one knew they existed. They were invisible, and they were masters. They would control these countries, and no one would be the wiser.
Total Time: 10 minutes
Word Count: 434
1/26/10
“I dreamed I was nobody…”
Once I dreamed I was nobody. It was very strange, to be in a room with someone, to hear them announce “Nobody’s here!”
I would try to say “Yes, yes I am!” but they didn’t hear me. Nobody heard me, for I was nobody, and only I could hear myself. But it had it’s perks. When things went terribly wrong for someone, and they were asked who could help, they replied “Nobody.” That was my cue. As nobody, I could do anything. I could walk through walls, I could be in the middle of a crowd and not be seen. I was the ultimate investigator. All I had to do was gather the evidence. And I did, I gathered it, and put it where somebody would find it. Because Nobody can do that, Nobody can find out anything. And I was Nobody.
Total Time: 3 minutes
Word Count: 142
*Side note to Abbie: I love your prompts! I'm thinking about starting February off with them...
1/20/10
Prompt: “I met somebody new…” (NaNo)
“I’ve met somebody new.”
The words reverberated through her skull. He had met someone new. How could he have done this? What was wrong with him? Didn’t he know she was perfect? Didn’t he know that Lana LaShane never got dumped, especially for some two-bit tramp from the Lower East Side.
Lana fingered the small pistol she held cradled in her lap. No, no one dumped Lana LaShane. Ever.
Total Time: 3 minutes
Word Count: 69
1/21/10
Prompt: “The puppy was a cute little ball of fluff…” (Me)
She smiled as she walked into the pet shop, her eyes immediately drawn to the little labradoodle puppy in the kennel right be the door. He was adorable. The puppy was a cute little ball of fluff, with floppy ears and curly beige fur. He looked like a cross between a dust mop and a fleece throw pillow. His little pink tongue lolled out of his mouth as he jumped up behind the fence, as if begging to be held.
She went over to a clerk and pointed. “May I see him, please?”
Total Time: 2 minutes
Word Count: 93
1/22/10
Prompt: “No, not right now,” she said, exasperated.” (Me)
“Mommy! I wanna cookie!” The sounds of the petulant child were all she’d been listening to all day, and she was exhausted.
“No, not right now,” she said, exasperated.
“But Mommy!”
“Cara! That’s enough! You’ve already had a cookie!” She turned away and ran a hand through her stringy ponytail. She hadn’t had time to shower yet, and it didn’t look like it would happen today. Suddenly, the phone rang, a loud disruption among the sounds of the whining child.
“Hello?” She answered the phone tiredly, the exhaustion evident in her voice.
“Hey, Honey, it’s Mom,” came the voice on the other line. “You sound exhausted, sweetie. Hey, I’m coming through town, why don’t I pick up Cara and take her for the night? You could use a break.”
Caroline had never before heard such beautiful words. “Mom, you’re an angel, I love you.”
She could almost see the smile on her mom’s face as she answered. “I know, I’ll see you in a bit, love you!”
Total Time: 5 minutes
Word Count: 146
1/23/10
Prompt: “A butterfly flew overhead…” (NaNo)
It was a beautiful summer’s day. The sky was clear and blue, with not a cloud to be seen. A gentle breeze wafted across the field, and a delicate yellow-winged butterfly flew overhead. Tiny creatures scurried to and fro, going about their daily business, gathering food, and making nests. Songbirds sang among the tall grasses, and the calm buzzing of bees added the bass line. All in all, it was a wonderful day.
Total Time: 2 minutes
Word Count: 73
1/24/10
Prompt: “The tattered stuffed animal on the bare mattress seemed to scream ‘Find her! Find her!’” (NaNo)
Detective Peterson looked around the grungy apartment. The sobs of the girl’s mother echoed in his ears as he scanned the small space for any clues, anything that would help lead to the girl’s whereabouts. He moved into her room, a place little more than a closet. It was Spartan, with only an old mattress and a battered dresser. Then his eyes fell on something. It was small, a mere detail, but the tattered stuffed animal on the bare mattress seemed to scream “Find her! Find her!”
The detective took a deep breath. He would find this child. There was no doubt in his mind. Already, his team was working furiously to come up with a list of suspects, one the mother had said would be fairly short. She had a good idea who had taken her daughter, and now it was up to the police to find her. And they would. So help him, they would find her.
Total Time: 3 minutes
Word Count: 159
1/25/10
Prompt: "The coding flew over the monitor like a serpent with wings…” (NaNo)
Hunched over an ancient monitor in a dark, cave-like room, the young man known only as Jefe, typed furiously as he watched the numbers scroll across the screen. The keyboard he used was old, stained, and several of the key caps were missing, but it didn’t matter. Jefe could type blindfolded if he had to, and not lose a single word per minute. An alarm sounded, but he didn’t seem to hear it, and it continued, adding to the sound of whirring machinery. The alarm grew louder, more insistent, and finally, the young man looked up. When he realized what the alarm was for, he stumbled out of the ramshackle computer chair, setting it back on its three wheels when it tipped over. Fumbling his way through a maze of blue and red computer wires, he managed to find the microwave hidden beneath a pile of coding. He shoved a plastic bowl in it and punched the numbers in, setting it to warm up his meal before he made his way back to the precarious chair.
He began typing almost immediately, his eyes flicking back and forth as the coding flew over the monitor like a serpent with wings. He was almost finished. Once he completed this line of code, then the uplink would be established and the group would be able to access the government satellites. There were other hackers in Beijing, Taiwan, even Iceland, who were working with him, working to get the uplink established, hidden, and trapped. Anyone who found it would be left with a nasty surprise that would cripple their computer systems long enough so that the group could erase all traces of their uplink. Jefe was in charge of this portion of the mission, but he didn’t know who else was on board. He only knew their handles, there was Ice, the one who designed the viruses, there was Bolthole, the one who set up the escape hatchways, and there was Hex, the one who ‘armed’ the viruses. Together, along with several other hackers, they were close, just a hairsbreadth away from total power. They would be able to see everything, not just from one government, either, they would be able to tap into the satellite systems of all the major players in world politics, the United States, the United Kingdom, China, Japan—no one was safe from the hackers. They were the best, and they would triumph. No one could catch them, because no one knew they existed. They were invisible, and they were masters. They would control these countries, and no one would be the wiser.
Total Time: 10 minutes
Word Count: 434
1/26/10
“I dreamed I was nobody…”
Once I dreamed I was nobody. It was very strange, to be in a room with someone, to hear them announce “Nobody’s here!”
I would try to say “Yes, yes I am!” but they didn’t hear me. Nobody heard me, for I was nobody, and only I could hear myself. But it had it’s perks. When things went terribly wrong for someone, and they were asked who could help, they replied “Nobody.” That was my cue. As nobody, I could do anything. I could walk through walls, I could be in the middle of a crowd and not be seen. I was the ultimate investigator. All I had to do was gather the evidence. And I did, I gathered it, and put it where somebody would find it. Because Nobody can do that, Nobody can find out anything. And I was Nobody.
Total Time: 3 minutes
Word Count: 142
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Catching Up!
Alrighty, we're up to the 19th already! Btw, I think I'm just going to do the prompts...no matching theme...it takes too much brain power :P
1/11/10
Prompt: "The man eating chicken chimichangas at table 25 asked for more tortillas and a Dr. Pepper..." (Kaitlyn Roy)
The man eating chicken chimichangas at table 25 asked for more tortillas and a Dr. Pepper. Lyla sighed and skated back into the kitchen to get them. It was a slow day at Mamacita’s Diner, and slow days were even worse than busy ones. At least with busy days, Lyla didn’t have to deal with Lucas “Pierre” Grady, the self-styled French chef. It was odd, the whole situation. She was the daughter of second-generation Lithuanian immigrants, and she worked at a 50’s style diner with a Mexican name, owned by a sleaze-ball from the Bronx, with a kitchen run by a “French” chef who hailed from Nevada. Could life get any weirder?
The bell on the door jingled as she plopped the order of tortillas and the drink down on the table. Oh, life just got a whole lot weirder. Two men walked through the door, two men dressed in black suits with matching black ties, aviator sunglass in—you guessed it—black, and little black earpieces coming from their shirt collars. Weird.
Lyla shrugged inwardly and smiled up at them. “Would you gentlemen like a table? We’re running a two-for-one special on the chicken chimichangas with a side order of slaw.”
The two men just looked at her and shook their heads in sync. The taller of the two looked her up and down, then down and up, as if scanning her skin-tight waitress uniform for mysterious lumps that might denote hidden weaponry. Finally, he spoke in a low gravelly tone.
“Are you Miss Lyla Glaukowski?
She nodded. “Is there something I can help you with?” Her southern accent had crept into her voice as she spoke, a sure sign of nervousness. Even though her parents still retained a trace of a Lithuanian accent, Lyla had be raised in Georgia, and had the accent to prove it. She’d worked hard to lose it when she moved back up North, but it still showed through when she was nervous or angry.
The tall man looked her over again, then turned to converse quietly with his partner. After a few minutes of intense conversation, the partner looked over at her and shrugged. The tall one approached Lyla again.
“You’re going to have to come with us, miss.”
Lyla glanced from one to the other. “Um, may I see some identification first?”
The tall agent showed her his badge and she gulped. “Alright, just let me get my things. Is everything okay? Are my parents alright?”
There was no response. They followed her as she went into the back room, the only benefit of their presence being they scared “Pierre” enough so that he didn’t curse her out in his very bad French when she told him she was leaving for the day. After she’d gotten her coat, they escorted her into a black SUV with tinted windows and government plates. Once inside, she looked at them again.
“Please, is everything alright?”
The two agents glanced at each other, then the tall one spoke again. “Lyla, you are special. Very special, and we have been sent by the government to determine exactly how special, and whether or not we can utilize it. Our country may be in grave danger, and you may be the only one who can stop it.”
Total Time: 13 minutes
Word Count: 548
1/12/10
Prompt: "The mountain was crying..." (Moriah Lee)
It was finished. So great was the tragedy, that even the stars hid their lights from all, and the moon was wept hazy tears in the clear night sky. There were no clouds at the mountaintop, yet the mountain was crying, fat dewdrops spilling off every leaf and blade of grass on her slopes. Nothing was left, nothing but a pile of crumbled ruins. So it was, and so it would be every time a god died. But this god, Meiliki was something special. She was revered by all nature in both land and heavens. And now she was dead. Her empty shell, now devoid of spirit, would float through the cosmos for all time, one day perhaps becoming a new plane, a new realm for life to grow. But for now, the world would mourn her passing with great sorrow. It was finished. Meiliki was no more.
Total Time: 4 minutes
Word Count: 148
1/13/10
Prompt: “David, do you have a few minutes?” (Kaitlyn Roy)
“David, do you have a few minutes?” Juliana’s voice rang through the garage, echoing underneath the hulk of metal that once was a car. A pair of jean-covered legs stuck out from underneath it, and fearsome clanking sounds emanated from the underbelly of the machine.
“David!” Juliana’s voice was louder now, startling the owner of the jean-covered legs. A loud clang was followed by a sharp curse, and a tousled brown head popped out from under the wreck.
“What!”
Juliana’s face came into his view, and he sighed. She had that look again. He stood up, wiping his hands on the greasy rag he kept tucked into his coveralls. “What do you need me to do?” he asked, leaving his project as he followed her into the house. Well, there goes the day.
Total Time: 3 minutes
Word Count: 133
1/14/10
Prompt: "I know you're listening!" (Me)
His head jerked up, his nervous twitch even more prominent under stress. His hands shook as he touched the last two wires together, completing the connection. At last, his masterpiece was complete. He moved slowly, nervously over to the power switch, his hand hovering above it as he hesitated.
A soft sound caught his attention, and he twitched again, his head spasming slightly. He looked around, his gaze traveling across the small, dark workroom. Metal pipes hung low on the ceiling and the walls were painted a dark gray. It was a dark place, one perfect for schemes and machinations. He glared at the far corner and scowled.
“I know you’re listening!” he shouted. “I know you’re out there, but you can’t have this! You can’t have my project!”
He flipped the switch and watched in satisfaction as his machine roared to life. Finally, he’d finished it, and now, the whole world had better watch out.
Total Time: 6 minutes
Word Count: 156
1/15/19
Prompt: “The hushed whisper of dry scales permeated the air…” (Me)
The hushed whisper of dry scales permeated the air and mixed with the pungent odor of decaying flesh. The passageway was dark; cold stone composed both the floor and walls. No tapestries hung to bring warmth in, no torches burned to shed light on the tortuous stairway. The acolytes of Demodeus made their way down by touch, touch and many years of long practice. Their gray robes whispered along the stone as they made their way down into the Grand Chamber. The procession wound through the twisting hallways, the only herald of their coming the whisper of robes mixing with the whisper of scales on stone. Each acolyte was accompanied by a serpent, all different kinds. The high priest was accompanied by an adder, one of the deadliest snakes on earth, while the lower ranks were accompanied by lesser serpents, ones of less deadly natures.
As the procession entered the Grand Chamber, they fanned out, robes and scales still hissing and rustling softly against the flagstones. They formed a semicircle around a large obsidian throne set in the center of the room on a raised dais. The stones that made up the dais were carved ornately, depicting scenes of Demodeus’ life. Serpents abounded in each pictograph, the largest always being the form Demodeus chose to take in his journeys to the mortal realm.
Two torches provided the only light in the chamber, flickering sinuously on either side of the throne. The acolytes began chanting, their words rising in sibilant waves up to the concave ceiling. It crescendoed, building chord upon chord, until the very stones beneath their feet began to rumble in anticipation. With one final note, the chanting hung poised, waiting, then it stopped. In the silence that followed, one sound became apparent, a slow, sinuous rasp of scales on stone. A hiss sounded, breaking the continuity of the rasping. Through the doorway behind the throne appeared a serpent. This was no ordinary reptile. The head alone was the size of a full-grown man, and the lithe body seemed to stretch on for miles. It filled the chamber, it’s scaled mass winding around the obsidian throne, twining between the torches. The great slit-pupiled eyes looked lethally at the assembled acolytes.
“Why have you sssssummoned me, my sssslavessss?”
Total Time: 10 minutes
Word Count: 378
1/16/10
Prompt: “Cheese is yummy…” (Moriah Lee)
“I like cheese. Cheese is yummy.” The toddler smiled up at her mom, face full of sticky cheddar cheese spray. She had grabbed the can off the counter and proceeded to spray it all over her mouth…she’d tried to get it in, but as a toddler, her aim left something to be desired. The yellow cheesy stuff was all over her face, down her neck, and covering the front of her shirt. Her mother sighed. Just another day in Mom’s World.
Total Time: 2 minutes
Word Count: 81
1/17/10
Prompt: “A slim band of silver is all it was…”
Cora looked down at her hand and the ring that now rested on her finger. A slim band of silver, that’s all it was, and yet it bound her to this man for life. She smiled. The magick in their rings was strong, promising long life and happiness. Her father had forged them and her mother had blessed them, her brother had polished them and her sister had presented them. The family had woven loving magick into them, filling the thin bands with hope and joy, enough to last three lifetimes.
A loud shout startled Cora from her thoughts as her new husband lifted their entwined hands high for the assembled crowd to see. She was wed, and would now begin a new life in a new home. She should be afraid, she reflected, but she wasn’t. No, she wasn’t afraid. Excited yes, and maybe a touch nervous, but she’d waited too long for this moment to be afraid. Caid would be a good husband, and together they would live out their days, with children running amok and good soil to be tilled. It would be a good life, one they would share for many years to come. They were together, and she was happy. Life was good.
Total Time: 5 minutes
Word Count: 207
1/18/10
Prompt: "Oh for the days when dinosaurs roamed the earth..." (Me)
She sighed as she put down her pencil. There was too much drama in the world. Every time she started to journal about her day, it was all about drama, and the latest tiff between cheerleaders. If only we could go back to a time before petty jealousies and feuds. She smiled slightly as she picked her pencil up and began to write, a line of poetry forming in her mind.
Oh for the days when dinosaurs roamed the earth,
When jealousies and pettiness existed not.
The poetry continued, floating onto the page as if by magic, and she was swept away into a wondrous world, where pettiness was eradicated, and creatures lived together without all that nonsense.
Total Time: 3 minutes
Word Count: 118
1/19/10
Prompt: "...and then there were none." (Isaac Lee, my brother)
First there were many, and then there were none.
First there was peace, and then there was none.
Next there was war, that always returned,
for first there were many, and now there are none.
Total Time: 1 minute
Word Count: 35
1/11/10
Prompt: "The man eating chicken chimichangas at table 25 asked for more tortillas and a Dr. Pepper..." (Kaitlyn Roy)
The man eating chicken chimichangas at table 25 asked for more tortillas and a Dr. Pepper. Lyla sighed and skated back into the kitchen to get them. It was a slow day at Mamacita’s Diner, and slow days were even worse than busy ones. At least with busy days, Lyla didn’t have to deal with Lucas “Pierre” Grady, the self-styled French chef. It was odd, the whole situation. She was the daughter of second-generation Lithuanian immigrants, and she worked at a 50’s style diner with a Mexican name, owned by a sleaze-ball from the Bronx, with a kitchen run by a “French” chef who hailed from Nevada. Could life get any weirder?
The bell on the door jingled as she plopped the order of tortillas and the drink down on the table. Oh, life just got a whole lot weirder. Two men walked through the door, two men dressed in black suits with matching black ties, aviator sunglass in—you guessed it—black, and little black earpieces coming from their shirt collars. Weird.
Lyla shrugged inwardly and smiled up at them. “Would you gentlemen like a table? We’re running a two-for-one special on the chicken chimichangas with a side order of slaw.”
The two men just looked at her and shook their heads in sync. The taller of the two looked her up and down, then down and up, as if scanning her skin-tight waitress uniform for mysterious lumps that might denote hidden weaponry. Finally, he spoke in a low gravelly tone.
“Are you Miss Lyla Glaukowski?
She nodded. “Is there something I can help you with?” Her southern accent had crept into her voice as she spoke, a sure sign of nervousness. Even though her parents still retained a trace of a Lithuanian accent, Lyla had be raised in Georgia, and had the accent to prove it. She’d worked hard to lose it when she moved back up North, but it still showed through when she was nervous or angry.
The tall man looked her over again, then turned to converse quietly with his partner. After a few minutes of intense conversation, the partner looked over at her and shrugged. The tall one approached Lyla again.
“You’re going to have to come with us, miss.”
Lyla glanced from one to the other. “Um, may I see some identification first?”
The tall agent showed her his badge and she gulped. “Alright, just let me get my things. Is everything okay? Are my parents alright?”
There was no response. They followed her as she went into the back room, the only benefit of their presence being they scared “Pierre” enough so that he didn’t curse her out in his very bad French when she told him she was leaving for the day. After she’d gotten her coat, they escorted her into a black SUV with tinted windows and government plates. Once inside, she looked at them again.
“Please, is everything alright?”
The two agents glanced at each other, then the tall one spoke again. “Lyla, you are special. Very special, and we have been sent by the government to determine exactly how special, and whether or not we can utilize it. Our country may be in grave danger, and you may be the only one who can stop it.”
Total Time: 13 minutes
Word Count: 548
1/12/10
Prompt: "The mountain was crying..." (Moriah Lee)
It was finished. So great was the tragedy, that even the stars hid their lights from all, and the moon was wept hazy tears in the clear night sky. There were no clouds at the mountaintop, yet the mountain was crying, fat dewdrops spilling off every leaf and blade of grass on her slopes. Nothing was left, nothing but a pile of crumbled ruins. So it was, and so it would be every time a god died. But this god, Meiliki was something special. She was revered by all nature in both land and heavens. And now she was dead. Her empty shell, now devoid of spirit, would float through the cosmos for all time, one day perhaps becoming a new plane, a new realm for life to grow. But for now, the world would mourn her passing with great sorrow. It was finished. Meiliki was no more.
Total Time: 4 minutes
Word Count: 148
1/13/10
Prompt: “David, do you have a few minutes?” (Kaitlyn Roy)
“David, do you have a few minutes?” Juliana’s voice rang through the garage, echoing underneath the hulk of metal that once was a car. A pair of jean-covered legs stuck out from underneath it, and fearsome clanking sounds emanated from the underbelly of the machine.
“David!” Juliana’s voice was louder now, startling the owner of the jean-covered legs. A loud clang was followed by a sharp curse, and a tousled brown head popped out from under the wreck.
“What!”
Juliana’s face came into his view, and he sighed. She had that look again. He stood up, wiping his hands on the greasy rag he kept tucked into his coveralls. “What do you need me to do?” he asked, leaving his project as he followed her into the house. Well, there goes the day.
Total Time: 3 minutes
Word Count: 133
1/14/10
Prompt: "I know you're listening!" (Me)
His head jerked up, his nervous twitch even more prominent under stress. His hands shook as he touched the last two wires together, completing the connection. At last, his masterpiece was complete. He moved slowly, nervously over to the power switch, his hand hovering above it as he hesitated.
A soft sound caught his attention, and he twitched again, his head spasming slightly. He looked around, his gaze traveling across the small, dark workroom. Metal pipes hung low on the ceiling and the walls were painted a dark gray. It was a dark place, one perfect for schemes and machinations. He glared at the far corner and scowled.
“I know you’re listening!” he shouted. “I know you’re out there, but you can’t have this! You can’t have my project!”
He flipped the switch and watched in satisfaction as his machine roared to life. Finally, he’d finished it, and now, the whole world had better watch out.
Total Time: 6 minutes
Word Count: 156
1/15/19
Prompt: “The hushed whisper of dry scales permeated the air…” (Me)
The hushed whisper of dry scales permeated the air and mixed with the pungent odor of decaying flesh. The passageway was dark; cold stone composed both the floor and walls. No tapestries hung to bring warmth in, no torches burned to shed light on the tortuous stairway. The acolytes of Demodeus made their way down by touch, touch and many years of long practice. Their gray robes whispered along the stone as they made their way down into the Grand Chamber. The procession wound through the twisting hallways, the only herald of their coming the whisper of robes mixing with the whisper of scales on stone. Each acolyte was accompanied by a serpent, all different kinds. The high priest was accompanied by an adder, one of the deadliest snakes on earth, while the lower ranks were accompanied by lesser serpents, ones of less deadly natures.
As the procession entered the Grand Chamber, they fanned out, robes and scales still hissing and rustling softly against the flagstones. They formed a semicircle around a large obsidian throne set in the center of the room on a raised dais. The stones that made up the dais were carved ornately, depicting scenes of Demodeus’ life. Serpents abounded in each pictograph, the largest always being the form Demodeus chose to take in his journeys to the mortal realm.
Two torches provided the only light in the chamber, flickering sinuously on either side of the throne. The acolytes began chanting, their words rising in sibilant waves up to the concave ceiling. It crescendoed, building chord upon chord, until the very stones beneath their feet began to rumble in anticipation. With one final note, the chanting hung poised, waiting, then it stopped. In the silence that followed, one sound became apparent, a slow, sinuous rasp of scales on stone. A hiss sounded, breaking the continuity of the rasping. Through the doorway behind the throne appeared a serpent. This was no ordinary reptile. The head alone was the size of a full-grown man, and the lithe body seemed to stretch on for miles. It filled the chamber, it’s scaled mass winding around the obsidian throne, twining between the torches. The great slit-pupiled eyes looked lethally at the assembled acolytes.
“Why have you sssssummoned me, my sssslavessss?”
Total Time: 10 minutes
Word Count: 378
1/16/10
Prompt: “Cheese is yummy…” (Moriah Lee)
“I like cheese. Cheese is yummy.” The toddler smiled up at her mom, face full of sticky cheddar cheese spray. She had grabbed the can off the counter and proceeded to spray it all over her mouth…she’d tried to get it in, but as a toddler, her aim left something to be desired. The yellow cheesy stuff was all over her face, down her neck, and covering the front of her shirt. Her mother sighed. Just another day in Mom’s World.
Total Time: 2 minutes
Word Count: 81
1/17/10
Prompt: “A slim band of silver is all it was…”
Cora looked down at her hand and the ring that now rested on her finger. A slim band of silver, that’s all it was, and yet it bound her to this man for life. She smiled. The magick in their rings was strong, promising long life and happiness. Her father had forged them and her mother had blessed them, her brother had polished them and her sister had presented them. The family had woven loving magick into them, filling the thin bands with hope and joy, enough to last three lifetimes.
A loud shout startled Cora from her thoughts as her new husband lifted their entwined hands high for the assembled crowd to see. She was wed, and would now begin a new life in a new home. She should be afraid, she reflected, but she wasn’t. No, she wasn’t afraid. Excited yes, and maybe a touch nervous, but she’d waited too long for this moment to be afraid. Caid would be a good husband, and together they would live out their days, with children running amok and good soil to be tilled. It would be a good life, one they would share for many years to come. They were together, and she was happy. Life was good.
Total Time: 5 minutes
Word Count: 207
1/18/10
Prompt: "Oh for the days when dinosaurs roamed the earth..." (Me)
She sighed as she put down her pencil. There was too much drama in the world. Every time she started to journal about her day, it was all about drama, and the latest tiff between cheerleaders. If only we could go back to a time before petty jealousies and feuds. She smiled slightly as she picked her pencil up and began to write, a line of poetry forming in her mind.
Oh for the days when dinosaurs roamed the earth,
When jealousies and pettiness existed not.
The poetry continued, floating onto the page as if by magic, and she was swept away into a wondrous world, where pettiness was eradicated, and creatures lived together without all that nonsense.
Total Time: 3 minutes
Word Count: 118
1/19/10
Prompt: "...and then there were none." (Isaac Lee, my brother)
First there were many, and then there were none.
First there was peace, and then there was none.
Next there was war, that always returned,
for first there were many, and now there are none.
Total Time: 1 minute
Word Count: 35
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Moving on...
Here's few more! I finished these up yesterday evening. Oh, by the way, major disclaimer here: The characters and events in these writings are COMPLETELY fiction! They are not in any way shape or form intended to represent actual people or events. It's all FICTION (I had to put that in after the first one, my mom was concerned that it was supposed to be her. It's not, by the way. She's way too cool for that.)
1/6/10
Prompt: "The butter melted slowly in the pan..." (Me)
Time seemed to drag. It was only 8:30, and he wasn’t coming over until 11:00. She turned on the stove and started her breakfast. Everything seemed to drag. Even the butter melted slowly in the pan, taking its own sweet time. The water took forever to boil, then the tea took even longer to steep. She looked at the clock again, groaning when she saw that only 5 minutes had gone by. Would the time never pass?
Finally, breakfast was ready. She sat down to eat, her book at hand. Every paragraph she looked up, hoping that more time had gone by. It hadn’t. The clock seemed stuck, frozen in time. The seconds clicked by, slowly, ever so slowly, seeming to take minutes, even hours instead of the usual heartbeat. She washed her dishes, glancing at the clock again and again. 8:45, only 15 minutes had passed. She curled up on the couch with her book, hoping that the pages would help the time move more quickly. It didn’t. After what felt like an hour, she looked up, only to find that it was barely 9:15. Gritting her teeth, she turned back to her book.
When she looked up again, she’d finished the book. The clock read 10:00. What the hell. She tossed the book on the couch, then froze, startled, as the doorbell rang. She answered it, somewhat confused. He was here. She let him in, then he chuckled as he glanced at the clock.
“I think you need a new clock,” he said. “This one’s an hour slow.”
Total Time: 6 minutes
Word Count: 260
1/7/10
Prompt: "The plant was wilting on the windowsill..." (Kaitlyn Roy, my sister)
It was a hot July day in rural Florida. The sun beat down on the small house, sending it’s vicious rays straight through the old tin roof. Julia sat on the front porch, a glass of icy lemonade in one hand and a bamboo fan in the other. Nothing seemed to survive this heat wave. Her yellow lab, Bruno, lay underneath the magnolia tree, his pink tongue lolling as he tried to cool himself. Even the small plant on the kitchen windowsill was wilting, and Julia had been given strict assurances by the woman at the garden shop that it would survive even the most brutal of heat waves.
With a heavy sigh, Julia rose and made her way into the kitchen. She filled a jug with cold water and stepped back on the porch. As soon as he heard the water being splashed into the ceramic water dish, Bruno perked up and loped over, slurping thirstily at the cool liquid. Julia watched him, smiling. The condensation on her own glass was cold as well, and she pressed it to her forehead, exhaling slightly as the cool droplets soothed her warm skin. It was no use going back indoors, she had no air conditioning, and it was actually cooler outside. The tin roof, while wonderful and soothing during a rainstorm, locked heat in like an oven. What she wouldn’t give for a freezer full of ice, or maybe a freak snowstorm, but neither of those were likely to be had.
She sat back down on the porch swing as Bruno flopped down back under the magnolia tree. With another sigh, Julia fanned herself slowly. The bamboo fan didn’t get rid of the heat altogether, but at least it kept the bugs away. And oh, were the bugs bad. Huge horseflies played with the mosquitoes in a painful game of ‘who can bite more skin’, and the irritating lovebugs dotted nearly every visible surface. Fly paper didn’t help—in a mere matter of minutes, it would be filled with dying insects. There was no breeze save for Julia’s lazy fanning, and it didn’t look like there would be one for at least another week.
The fanning slowly stopped as Julia nodded off, sleep a pleasant respite from the unbearable heat. Ah well, this was her home, and to live here, one had to put up with these sorts of things.
Total Time: 10 minutes
Word Count: 399
1/8/10
Prompt: "The soggy noodles dripped from the pan..." (Moriah Lee, my sister)
She cursed in frustration as the soggy noodles dripped out of the pan and landed in a slimy lump on the plate. Would she never get this right? First she put them in before the water was boiling properly, then she left them in for too long, and now she was stuck with a gloppy lump of overcooked, mushy noodles. Gross. She glanced at the clock, praying for the first time ever that a freak snowstorm would delay her dinner guests long enough for her to whip something else up. A glance out the window ultimately denied that wish. The sky was clear as day, and it was highly unlikely that they’d get even a small shower.
With a sigh of resignation, she dumped the soggy noodles down the garbage disposal and turned to the pantry. Nothing. Then her eye fell on the phonebook lying on the counter. Wait a minute…no one was expecting fanciness for supper, and the pizza place delivered in thirty minutes or less. She smiled in relief and punched in the number. Well, pepperoni pizza would have to do.
Total Time: 5 minutes
Word Count: 183
1/9/10
Prompt: "The hooded figure slunk from the corner..." (Moriah Lee)
The hooded figure slunk from the corner, making his way slowly out into the alley way. Sounds of drinking and carousing emanated from the tavern he’d just left, but they simply washed over him, the sounds of the typical area nightlife. He hadn’t been in town long, but he didn’t need to. His name was known by all inhabitants of the underbelly, and not just of this small town. No sooner had he arrived, then the whispers had begun.
“Lock up your treasures tight, Arkanis the Mask is here!”
“Don’t wander about at night, Arkanis the Mask is here!”
Arkanis the Mask, the most feared name in all alleys and taverns. Everyone knew who he was, the hooded, masked man who could change his appearance at whim. No one was ever safe when Arkanis the Mask was in town. No secret remained a secret, for who knows, Arkanis the Mask could be listening. Who was your server tonight? Was it Maggie O’Dell, or Arkanis the Mask? Who was the patrolling enforcer? Was it Taryn the Brave, or Arkanis the Mask? He could take any appearance, any form, and his voice was as fluid as a warm beaker of mulled wine.
If Arkanis the Mask was in town, nothing was secret, and nothing was safe.
Beware of Arkanis the Mask.
Total Time: 5 minutes
Word Count: 219
1/10/10
Prompt: "Maybe he likes patients who are dying because they don't give him any trouble." (Kaitlyn Roy)
No one really knew Dr. Grayson. He was a loner, a solitary man, and one who didn’t talk much. In fact, he had never been known to make light conversation with any of the other staff at Mercy General Hospital, not even his head nurse. The only conversations he ever had were patient-related, and usually kept to a cursory few statements. Most of the staff had their own opinions of him, and they ranged from the very outlandish “Perhaps he’s a drug-runner” to the more commonplace “Maybe he’s just introverted.” Regardless, his lack of verbosity had made him a less than favored supervisor among the nursing staff. Add to that his penchant for taking hospice patients, those who were fully prepared to die, and you had a very eccentric man.
Rosie McKinley, his head nurse, was one of the few who defended him. Unlike the rest of the staff, she was content to simply observe Dr. Grayson. She kept her eyes and ears open, and she once overheard a telephone conversation he had, she assumed it was with his wife or daughter. When he hung up the phone, the sheer exhaustion on his features had shocked the motherly nurse, and she’d felt like giving him a nice temple massage to ease his headache. She didn’t of course, that would be a serious breach of professional boundaries, not to mention just plain awkward. But still, that image had stayed with her for quite some time. She hadn’t heard much of the conversation, except to ntoe that it was definitely money-related, and the woman he was talking to had been asking for more. Oh, how long that argument lasted. It wasn’t fair, really, that such a talented and giving doctor had to deal with such people, trying to suck him dry. His salary wasn’t really all it could be, for although he was the best physician in Mercy General, he did nearly a third of his work pro bono, as a donation to the less fortunate.
Rosie knew all this, and maybe that was why she defended him so staunchly to the other staff members. Shortly after she’d overheard the conversation, one of the receptionists had been criticizing the good doctor’s preference for hospice patients. Rosie had sighed, tossing a comment to the young woman as she passed by.
“Did you ever think that maybe he likes patients who are dying because they don’t give him any trouble?”
Apparently the girl hadn’t thought of that, for she quickly shut her mouth and went back to her filing. Rosie smiled as she continued down the hallway. Dr. Grayson was a good man, and she wouldn’t have anyone slandering his good name.
Total Time: 10 minutes
Word Count: 448
1/6/10
Prompt: "The butter melted slowly in the pan..." (Me)
Time seemed to drag. It was only 8:30, and he wasn’t coming over until 11:00. She turned on the stove and started her breakfast. Everything seemed to drag. Even the butter melted slowly in the pan, taking its own sweet time. The water took forever to boil, then the tea took even longer to steep. She looked at the clock again, groaning when she saw that only 5 minutes had gone by. Would the time never pass?
Finally, breakfast was ready. She sat down to eat, her book at hand. Every paragraph she looked up, hoping that more time had gone by. It hadn’t. The clock seemed stuck, frozen in time. The seconds clicked by, slowly, ever so slowly, seeming to take minutes, even hours instead of the usual heartbeat. She washed her dishes, glancing at the clock again and again. 8:45, only 15 minutes had passed. She curled up on the couch with her book, hoping that the pages would help the time move more quickly. It didn’t. After what felt like an hour, she looked up, only to find that it was barely 9:15. Gritting her teeth, she turned back to her book.
When she looked up again, she’d finished the book. The clock read 10:00. What the hell. She tossed the book on the couch, then froze, startled, as the doorbell rang. She answered it, somewhat confused. He was here. She let him in, then he chuckled as he glanced at the clock.
“I think you need a new clock,” he said. “This one’s an hour slow.”
Total Time: 6 minutes
Word Count: 260
1/7/10
Prompt: "The plant was wilting on the windowsill..." (Kaitlyn Roy, my sister)
It was a hot July day in rural Florida. The sun beat down on the small house, sending it’s vicious rays straight through the old tin roof. Julia sat on the front porch, a glass of icy lemonade in one hand and a bamboo fan in the other. Nothing seemed to survive this heat wave. Her yellow lab, Bruno, lay underneath the magnolia tree, his pink tongue lolling as he tried to cool himself. Even the small plant on the kitchen windowsill was wilting, and Julia had been given strict assurances by the woman at the garden shop that it would survive even the most brutal of heat waves.
With a heavy sigh, Julia rose and made her way into the kitchen. She filled a jug with cold water and stepped back on the porch. As soon as he heard the water being splashed into the ceramic water dish, Bruno perked up and loped over, slurping thirstily at the cool liquid. Julia watched him, smiling. The condensation on her own glass was cold as well, and she pressed it to her forehead, exhaling slightly as the cool droplets soothed her warm skin. It was no use going back indoors, she had no air conditioning, and it was actually cooler outside. The tin roof, while wonderful and soothing during a rainstorm, locked heat in like an oven. What she wouldn’t give for a freezer full of ice, or maybe a freak snowstorm, but neither of those were likely to be had.
She sat back down on the porch swing as Bruno flopped down back under the magnolia tree. With another sigh, Julia fanned herself slowly. The bamboo fan didn’t get rid of the heat altogether, but at least it kept the bugs away. And oh, were the bugs bad. Huge horseflies played with the mosquitoes in a painful game of ‘who can bite more skin’, and the irritating lovebugs dotted nearly every visible surface. Fly paper didn’t help—in a mere matter of minutes, it would be filled with dying insects. There was no breeze save for Julia’s lazy fanning, and it didn’t look like there would be one for at least another week.
The fanning slowly stopped as Julia nodded off, sleep a pleasant respite from the unbearable heat. Ah well, this was her home, and to live here, one had to put up with these sorts of things.
Total Time: 10 minutes
Word Count: 399
1/8/10
Prompt: "The soggy noodles dripped from the pan..." (Moriah Lee, my sister)
She cursed in frustration as the soggy noodles dripped out of the pan and landed in a slimy lump on the plate. Would she never get this right? First she put them in before the water was boiling properly, then she left them in for too long, and now she was stuck with a gloppy lump of overcooked, mushy noodles. Gross. She glanced at the clock, praying for the first time ever that a freak snowstorm would delay her dinner guests long enough for her to whip something else up. A glance out the window ultimately denied that wish. The sky was clear as day, and it was highly unlikely that they’d get even a small shower.
With a sigh of resignation, she dumped the soggy noodles down the garbage disposal and turned to the pantry. Nothing. Then her eye fell on the phonebook lying on the counter. Wait a minute…no one was expecting fanciness for supper, and the pizza place delivered in thirty minutes or less. She smiled in relief and punched in the number. Well, pepperoni pizza would have to do.
Total Time: 5 minutes
Word Count: 183
1/9/10
Prompt: "The hooded figure slunk from the corner..." (Moriah Lee)
The hooded figure slunk from the corner, making his way slowly out into the alley way. Sounds of drinking and carousing emanated from the tavern he’d just left, but they simply washed over him, the sounds of the typical area nightlife. He hadn’t been in town long, but he didn’t need to. His name was known by all inhabitants of the underbelly, and not just of this small town. No sooner had he arrived, then the whispers had begun.
“Lock up your treasures tight, Arkanis the Mask is here!”
“Don’t wander about at night, Arkanis the Mask is here!”
Arkanis the Mask, the most feared name in all alleys and taverns. Everyone knew who he was, the hooded, masked man who could change his appearance at whim. No one was ever safe when Arkanis the Mask was in town. No secret remained a secret, for who knows, Arkanis the Mask could be listening. Who was your server tonight? Was it Maggie O’Dell, or Arkanis the Mask? Who was the patrolling enforcer? Was it Taryn the Brave, or Arkanis the Mask? He could take any appearance, any form, and his voice was as fluid as a warm beaker of mulled wine.
If Arkanis the Mask was in town, nothing was secret, and nothing was safe.
Beware of Arkanis the Mask.
Total Time: 5 minutes
Word Count: 219
1/10/10
Prompt: "Maybe he likes patients who are dying because they don't give him any trouble." (Kaitlyn Roy)
No one really knew Dr. Grayson. He was a loner, a solitary man, and one who didn’t talk much. In fact, he had never been known to make light conversation with any of the other staff at Mercy General Hospital, not even his head nurse. The only conversations he ever had were patient-related, and usually kept to a cursory few statements. Most of the staff had their own opinions of him, and they ranged from the very outlandish “Perhaps he’s a drug-runner” to the more commonplace “Maybe he’s just introverted.” Regardless, his lack of verbosity had made him a less than favored supervisor among the nursing staff. Add to that his penchant for taking hospice patients, those who were fully prepared to die, and you had a very eccentric man.
Rosie McKinley, his head nurse, was one of the few who defended him. Unlike the rest of the staff, she was content to simply observe Dr. Grayson. She kept her eyes and ears open, and she once overheard a telephone conversation he had, she assumed it was with his wife or daughter. When he hung up the phone, the sheer exhaustion on his features had shocked the motherly nurse, and she’d felt like giving him a nice temple massage to ease his headache. She didn’t of course, that would be a serious breach of professional boundaries, not to mention just plain awkward. But still, that image had stayed with her for quite some time. She hadn’t heard much of the conversation, except to ntoe that it was definitely money-related, and the woman he was talking to had been asking for more. Oh, how long that argument lasted. It wasn’t fair, really, that such a talented and giving doctor had to deal with such people, trying to suck him dry. His salary wasn’t really all it could be, for although he was the best physician in Mercy General, he did nearly a third of his work pro bono, as a donation to the less fortunate.
Rosie knew all this, and maybe that was why she defended him so staunchly to the other staff members. Shortly after she’d overheard the conversation, one of the receptionists had been criticizing the good doctor’s preference for hospice patients. Rosie had sighed, tossing a comment to the young woman as she passed by.
“Did you ever think that maybe he likes patients who are dying because they don’t give him any trouble?”
Apparently the girl hadn’t thought of that, for she quickly shut her mouth and went back to her filing. Rosie smiled as she continued down the hallway. Dr. Grayson was a good man, and she wouldn’t have anyone slandering his good name.
Total Time: 10 minutes
Word Count: 448
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
The First Ones
After considerable prodding, I managed to get some family members to help me with some writing prompts. My little brother, after I gave him the example "It was a dark and stormy night," promptly replied "It was a VERY dark and stormy night!" Yeah, that pretty much sums him up :). Anyhow, I have five done at the moment, and I'll list each one here. I'll put the dates they're supposed to be for, not the dates I actually wrote them.
Here goes!
1/1/10
Prompt: "After two glasses of wine, my non-drinking mother..." (Amy Roy, my mom)
Total Time: 5 minutes
Word Count: 237
After two glasses of wine, my non-drinking mother was getting a little tipsy. She didn’t really get drunk on two glasses, but she definitely got talkative. Usually it was hilarious (and by usually, I mean on the rare occasions it happened), but tonight, I wasn’t in the mood to talk. I’d just spent practically the whole day shoveling snow off our ridiculously long, unpaved driveway, and all I wanted was to lock myself in my lair with my highspeed computer and my new favorite video game. But of course, she wanted to talk.
And it wasn’t really about anything. I mean, I’m always up for a good conversation, but not trivial things, like the results of your latest facebook quiz, or who just changed their relationship status from “in a relationship” to “it’s complicated”. I never really understood what the whole “it’s complicated” thing was for. I mean, you were either dating someone, or you weren’t. What’s the big deal about that? It’s not like everyone else needs to know all your little relationship woes. Honestly, they probably don’t even care.
Luckily for me, the conversation, if you can call it that, was short-lived. One of her friends apparently signed on, and her attention was instantly focused on them. I breathed a sigh of relief and trudged into my room. The computer hummed on and I closed my eyes briefly, savoring the moment. Paradise, here I come.
1/2/10
Prompt: "The faded paint was chipped and peeling on the wall..." (Me)
Total Time: 8 minutes
Word Count: 346
The first thing I noticed when I walked through the door was the stench. God, it smelled like someone had locked a litter of puppies in here for a month. When I mentioned this to Lara, however, she just tossed me a wry grin and told me I wasn’t really that far from the truth.
Honestly, I had no idea what possessed her to lease this place, or what made her think it would be the perfect spot for her shop, but I’d promised her I’d help her get started, so here I was, stuck with the monumental task of making this place presentable.
I took a deep breath and took stock of my surroundings. It was a surprisingly large room, with boarded up windows all along the front wall. The faded paint was chipped and peeling on the walls, and would probably need to be completely stripped and redone. The floors were carpet, and absolutely disgusting. They would need to be completely ripped out, probably along with the subfloors. Fortunately there weren’t any major structures in the room—no counters or built-in bookshelves. If there were, my job would have been a lot harder.
I turned to Lara, the sarcastic comment I’d been about to share dying on my lips as I saw her hopeful face. She was so excited about this, I couldn’t shatter her dreams, even though I knew it would take months to get the whole place done. I managed to smile. “Don’t worry, hun, of course I’ll fix it up for you.”
Her whole face lit up like a fir tree at Christmas time, which was probably when I’d get this place done. “Really?” she asked, not quite sure if she should believe me or not.
I grinned lightly back. “Of course, I promised, didn’t I? Now come on, let’s go grab some coffee before the snow starts again.”
I slipped my arm over her shoulder and we headed back out into the cold. I’d get it done for her, and it would be the best-looking shop in the whole town.
1/3/10
Prompt: "Black had definitely been a bad idea..." (Me)
Total Time: 10 minutes
Word Count: 458
She sighed again, running her hands through her hair. Black had definitely been a bad idea. It’s not like she couldn’t change it anytime she wanted, but to do so now would reveal her powers—not something she wanted done at the moment. She’d chosen black hair for her disguise for one reason—no one would recognize her in it. She was a natural red-head, with extremely fair skin, and pale, luminescent green eyes. It was that fair skin that currently condemned her hair color. All the black seemed to do was wash her out. It looked terrible, even though it looked like natural hair. It had no evidence of dye, the black was quite natural looking, and streaked with a faint hint of copper. She’d been quite proud of the affect at first, until she saw it against her skin.
She cursed it again. If only she’d seen it before going out into the field. Now if she changed it, her mark would notice immediately, and her cover would be blown. Ah well, what’s done is done. Now she just had to wait, patiently, for the mark to finish his coffee and lead her to the treasure. She used the term treasure loosely. It was really a weapons cache, one hidden from the government illegally. Under most circumstances, she would have been helping the mark hide it, considering how most governments were corrupt and well-deserving of rebellion, but not this one. No, she would help this government.
The northern country of Kretos was ruled not by a king, emperor, or president, but by a council of twelve, six men and six women, two from each societal station on the island. None were given any precedence over the other, and they all had to be in agreement for a law to be passed. Not only that, but they were replaced every two years, and their replacements were nominated and voted on by the people of Kretos. It was actually a very well functioning system, and fair, surprising in today’s day and age. Even the hired guns appreciated it, and many, like this one, had come to escape governmental corruption.
She tossed her hair back over her shoulder and rose swiftly. The mark was moving out into the snowstorm. If only he knew the trouble he was in, maybe he would have given his government a little more appreciation. He was lucky, she mused thoughtfully. Any other government would have given her strict orders to kill, but this one, well, she was equipped with tranc darts and a stun gun…killing was strictly forbidden. At least, in theory, but if he made so much as one wrong move—well, this was one woman who never gave up her knives. Ever.
1/4/10
Prompt: "The lilac bush was in full bloom..." (Amy Roy, my mom)
Total Time: 1 minute
Word Count: 63
She walked slowly down the narrow dirt path, breathing in the heady scent of spring. The snow had finally melted, and the robins were singing sweetly in the apple trees. The lilac bush was in full bloom, as were the dogwood trees that lined the little path. Her skirt swished pleasantly in the gentle breeze, and she sighed happily.
Spring was finally here.
1/5/10
Prompt: "The house was dark, and the bread on the counter was growing mold..." (Moriah Lee, my little sister)
Total Time: 9 minutes
Word Count: 389
No one was about. The house was dark, and as he made his way into the kitchen, he saw that the bread on the counter was growing mold. It had been left open, the round loaf just sitting on the cutting board, the knife still stuck where someone had been cutting a slice. A jar of milk was sitting beside it, now rancid in the oddly warm room. No fire burned in the woodstove, and the coals in the fireplace were cold. Despite the cold November air outside, the interior of the house was warm, almost balmy. He made his way up the creaking old stairs, past the oil painting of snow-covered mountains and into the first bedroom. This must have been the guest room. There were no linens on the bed, and no clothing in the dresser. The next bedroom however, was much more lived in. The bed was mussed, as if someone had just slept there, but the sheets were cool, showing no sign of body heat. A set of flannel pajamas were tossed on the floor, and the dresser drawers were open, suggesting that someone with less than impeccable habits had recently gotten dressed. How odd.
He cautiously stepped back downstairs, heading towards the root cellar next. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Nothing. How very strange. It seemed as though the entire house had simply been paused, stopped out of time for weeks—at least, that was the last time the neighbors has seen or heard the young man who lived here. A sound from upstairs shook the sheriff from his ponderings, and he slowly and carefully crept back up to the ground floor. Imagine his total surprise when he saw the young man in the kitchen, his hand on the knife, finishing the slice he’d started two weeks ago. He looked up, startled, when he saw the sheriff, then grinned.
“Sheriff Jones, what’re you doin’ in my root cellar?”
The sheriff took a deep breath, completely and utterly floored. If not for the sour milk and moldy bread, it would seem as if the young man had never left. But he had, and the question was, where had he gone, and would he even remember it?
Here goes!
1/1/10
Prompt: "After two glasses of wine, my non-drinking mother..." (Amy Roy, my mom)
Total Time: 5 minutes
Word Count: 237
After two glasses of wine, my non-drinking mother was getting a little tipsy. She didn’t really get drunk on two glasses, but she definitely got talkative. Usually it was hilarious (and by usually, I mean on the rare occasions it happened), but tonight, I wasn’t in the mood to talk. I’d just spent practically the whole day shoveling snow off our ridiculously long, unpaved driveway, and all I wanted was to lock myself in my lair with my highspeed computer and my new favorite video game. But of course, she wanted to talk.
And it wasn’t really about anything. I mean, I’m always up for a good conversation, but not trivial things, like the results of your latest facebook quiz, or who just changed their relationship status from “in a relationship” to “it’s complicated”. I never really understood what the whole “it’s complicated” thing was for. I mean, you were either dating someone, or you weren’t. What’s the big deal about that? It’s not like everyone else needs to know all your little relationship woes. Honestly, they probably don’t even care.
Luckily for me, the conversation, if you can call it that, was short-lived. One of her friends apparently signed on, and her attention was instantly focused on them. I breathed a sigh of relief and trudged into my room. The computer hummed on and I closed my eyes briefly, savoring the moment. Paradise, here I come.
1/2/10
Prompt: "The faded paint was chipped and peeling on the wall..." (Me)
Total Time: 8 minutes
Word Count: 346
The first thing I noticed when I walked through the door was the stench. God, it smelled like someone had locked a litter of puppies in here for a month. When I mentioned this to Lara, however, she just tossed me a wry grin and told me I wasn’t really that far from the truth.
Honestly, I had no idea what possessed her to lease this place, or what made her think it would be the perfect spot for her shop, but I’d promised her I’d help her get started, so here I was, stuck with the monumental task of making this place presentable.
I took a deep breath and took stock of my surroundings. It was a surprisingly large room, with boarded up windows all along the front wall. The faded paint was chipped and peeling on the walls, and would probably need to be completely stripped and redone. The floors were carpet, and absolutely disgusting. They would need to be completely ripped out, probably along with the subfloors. Fortunately there weren’t any major structures in the room—no counters or built-in bookshelves. If there were, my job would have been a lot harder.
I turned to Lara, the sarcastic comment I’d been about to share dying on my lips as I saw her hopeful face. She was so excited about this, I couldn’t shatter her dreams, even though I knew it would take months to get the whole place done. I managed to smile. “Don’t worry, hun, of course I’ll fix it up for you.”
Her whole face lit up like a fir tree at Christmas time, which was probably when I’d get this place done. “Really?” she asked, not quite sure if she should believe me or not.
I grinned lightly back. “Of course, I promised, didn’t I? Now come on, let’s go grab some coffee before the snow starts again.”
I slipped my arm over her shoulder and we headed back out into the cold. I’d get it done for her, and it would be the best-looking shop in the whole town.
1/3/10
Prompt: "Black had definitely been a bad idea..." (Me)
Total Time: 10 minutes
Word Count: 458
She sighed again, running her hands through her hair. Black had definitely been a bad idea. It’s not like she couldn’t change it anytime she wanted, but to do so now would reveal her powers—not something she wanted done at the moment. She’d chosen black hair for her disguise for one reason—no one would recognize her in it. She was a natural red-head, with extremely fair skin, and pale, luminescent green eyes. It was that fair skin that currently condemned her hair color. All the black seemed to do was wash her out. It looked terrible, even though it looked like natural hair. It had no evidence of dye, the black was quite natural looking, and streaked with a faint hint of copper. She’d been quite proud of the affect at first, until she saw it against her skin.
She cursed it again. If only she’d seen it before going out into the field. Now if she changed it, her mark would notice immediately, and her cover would be blown. Ah well, what’s done is done. Now she just had to wait, patiently, for the mark to finish his coffee and lead her to the treasure. She used the term treasure loosely. It was really a weapons cache, one hidden from the government illegally. Under most circumstances, she would have been helping the mark hide it, considering how most governments were corrupt and well-deserving of rebellion, but not this one. No, she would help this government.
The northern country of Kretos was ruled not by a king, emperor, or president, but by a council of twelve, six men and six women, two from each societal station on the island. None were given any precedence over the other, and they all had to be in agreement for a law to be passed. Not only that, but they were replaced every two years, and their replacements were nominated and voted on by the people of Kretos. It was actually a very well functioning system, and fair, surprising in today’s day and age. Even the hired guns appreciated it, and many, like this one, had come to escape governmental corruption.
She tossed her hair back over her shoulder and rose swiftly. The mark was moving out into the snowstorm. If only he knew the trouble he was in, maybe he would have given his government a little more appreciation. He was lucky, she mused thoughtfully. Any other government would have given her strict orders to kill, but this one, well, she was equipped with tranc darts and a stun gun…killing was strictly forbidden. At least, in theory, but if he made so much as one wrong move—well, this was one woman who never gave up her knives. Ever.
1/4/10
Prompt: "The lilac bush was in full bloom..." (Amy Roy, my mom)
Total Time: 1 minute
Word Count: 63
She walked slowly down the narrow dirt path, breathing in the heady scent of spring. The snow had finally melted, and the robins were singing sweetly in the apple trees. The lilac bush was in full bloom, as were the dogwood trees that lined the little path. Her skirt swished pleasantly in the gentle breeze, and she sighed happily.
Spring was finally here.
1/5/10
Prompt: "The house was dark, and the bread on the counter was growing mold..." (Moriah Lee, my little sister)
Total Time: 9 minutes
Word Count: 389
No one was about. The house was dark, and as he made his way into the kitchen, he saw that the bread on the counter was growing mold. It had been left open, the round loaf just sitting on the cutting board, the knife still stuck where someone had been cutting a slice. A jar of milk was sitting beside it, now rancid in the oddly warm room. No fire burned in the woodstove, and the coals in the fireplace were cold. Despite the cold November air outside, the interior of the house was warm, almost balmy. He made his way up the creaking old stairs, past the oil painting of snow-covered mountains and into the first bedroom. This must have been the guest room. There were no linens on the bed, and no clothing in the dresser. The next bedroom however, was much more lived in. The bed was mussed, as if someone had just slept there, but the sheets were cool, showing no sign of body heat. A set of flannel pajamas were tossed on the floor, and the dresser drawers were open, suggesting that someone with less than impeccable habits had recently gotten dressed. How odd.
He cautiously stepped back downstairs, heading towards the root cellar next. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Nothing. How very strange. It seemed as though the entire house had simply been paused, stopped out of time for weeks—at least, that was the last time the neighbors has seen or heard the young man who lived here. A sound from upstairs shook the sheriff from his ponderings, and he slowly and carefully crept back up to the ground floor. Imagine his total surprise when he saw the young man in the kitchen, his hand on the knife, finishing the slice he’d started two weeks ago. He looked up, startled, when he saw the sheriff, then grinned.
“Sheriff Jones, what’re you doin’ in my root cellar?”
The sheriff took a deep breath, completely and utterly floored. If not for the sour milk and moldy bread, it would seem as if the young man had never left. But he had, and the question was, where had he gone, and would he even remember it?
In the Beginning...
In the beginning, there was an idea. This idea was based off of Abbie Morrison's (of Abbie Morrison Photography) photo-a-day project, and has morphed into a delightful little story-a-day project. I have enlisted the help of my friends and family in coming up with writing prompts, most of them just a sentence, but some a little meatier and more developed. Since I'm starting this well into the month of January, I unfortunately will have a little catch-up to play. I have six prompts completed, and will hopefully have more finished promptly...no pun intended :). Hopefully, I'll be able to keep it going, but knowing my infamously short attention span, we'll have to see. I'm pretty sure I can manage 5-10 minutes a day, though.
Due to laptops and their finicky relationship with the internet, I may not be able to update it every day, but I will have a post for each day of the year. Now comes the fun part! For each month, I'm going to include a theme in that month's stories. Now, it may simply be a word, and it may be an integral theme of the story, but somehow, in each story, there will be a mention of something (e.g. each story in the month of February will be related to Valentine's Day). Your job is to guess what that theme is, and let me know at my e-mail writingtheyearaway@gmail.com. If you have any writing prompt ideas for me, please send them, I'll need all the help I can get!
So...here goes! I'll date each prompt, and let you know who came up with it (we must give credit where credit is due!), and I'll also post the time it took to write it, and the total word count.
Enjoy!
Due to laptops and their finicky relationship with the internet, I may not be able to update it every day, but I will have a post for each day of the year. Now comes the fun part! For each month, I'm going to include a theme in that month's stories. Now, it may simply be a word, and it may be an integral theme of the story, but somehow, in each story, there will be a mention of something (e.g. each story in the month of February will be related to Valentine's Day). Your job is to guess what that theme is, and let me know at my e-mail writingtheyearaway@gmail.com. If you have any writing prompt ideas for me, please send them, I'll need all the help I can get!
So...here goes! I'll date each prompt, and let you know who came up with it (we must give credit where credit is due!), and I'll also post the time it took to write it, and the total word count.
Enjoy!
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