Thursday, August 18, 2016

Writing Prompt 8.18. 2016 First line prompt

Writing Prompt 8.8.2016

Lunch was almost ready.  Would he actually come?  Beth sighed and checked the table for the fifteenth time.  The food smelled delicious and the table looked beautiful.  Lunch was simple- home-made chili with corn bread and a crisp green salad with tomatoes and cucumbers. Peach cobbler was the dessert. The table cloth was red and white checked and looked inviting and cheerful.  Beth sat down to wait.


She waited a long time.   He never came. She should have invited me.  I would have come and I would have brought some flowers for her table. I love chili and cornbread and peach cobbler is a favorite of mine.  I heard the invitation when it was offered and I heard him accept.  I wish she would have asked me.  She deserved better-much better.  

Thursday, August 11, 2016

Writing Prompt (use these words) Unicorns Never Listen

Writing Prompt... Use these words in a story. Here's Mine
Rainbow
Koala
Grass
Pizza
Lick
Polka Dots
Flood

Unicorns Never Listen

“Quick! Quick!” Frantic ed Bob Koala.
“Run for your life! A flood is coming!”

The unicorn stopped munching grass raised his head and stared a long moment at Bob. Then just because he could, he gave his beautiful mane a toss and sparkled rainbow sparkles all over him. Then just for fun, he whip-whashed his long tail and glittered Bob in a glittery shower of glitters.

Bob shook himself and frowned. He was a serious black and white little bear and did not care one spec for sparkles or glitters. Besides that, this unicorn was not listening.

“Frantic ed ?” The unicorn mused flicking a bit of his pizza lunch high into the air. Then he opened his mouth wide and gobbled it down in one big gobble most impolitely.

Bob was not at all surprised to see a unicorn eating pizza because everyone knows that unicorns are always hungry and will eat almost anything. In fact, he heard it told that upon a long once ago a unicorn was so hungry that he lick ed the dots clean off of a polka and then he ate the dish.

“Franticed?” The unicorn ventured letting the word drip slowly from his tongue. Another thing about unicorns was they often had to eat their words. They never swallowed them but always spit them out.

“Frantic ed” splitted and splatted and landed in a heap at Bob’s feet.

“I say, the unicorn continued.”

“I say that word
is really rather absurd.
In fact, I surmise
it can never be “cized”,
conjugated or “corelized,”
at all at all.
Do you have a “blighter”
Installed as your writer?”

Bob sighed and ran as far and as fast as he could. He ran far away from the unicorn. He climbed to the tippy-top of a Eucalyptus Tree. Oh how he wished he had listened more carefully to his Mother’s teachings.
1. Unicorns never ever listen (especially the sparkly kind)
2. Unicorns rhyme very badly
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Friday, August 5, 2016

Writing Prompt: That is why I think my coworker is a troll.

Writing Prompt: That is why I think my coworker is actually a troll.

Even though I am way down the ladder of success, I am naturally curious and extremely observant.  I know things.  Working in the mail room as I do has given me the unique opportunity to be a “snoop.”  Lately. my focus has been on this one particular guy.  His office is just one of many that share the 15th floor or “Suit City” as I often refer to it.

Every suite holds a receptionist who sorts out the folks and keeps the general order.   Easy peasy for me.  The mail to them usually just goes in the “in” basket on the desk.  Sometimes, however the gal insists I put the mail directly in her hand.  Mostly, those kinds work for the “higher-ups-chief executors, vices. directors and such.

Beyond, the lady gate keeper and crowd control queen are the offices of the VIPs.  The door announcing each particular individual discretely boasts the name in prominent gold and black lettering.  The strange part is that actual first names are omitted.  It’s always just initials. I guessed the reasoning behind that had something to do with work place equality or diversional rules and policies or it could be just a suit who didn’t care for his first name all that much and rather than call undue attention required everyone to use initials.
So, I was accustomed to seeing doors with names like R. Johnson. B. Smith. or the occasional odd one or two like I.D. Maker and H.R. Resource.

The tip off for me that the guy in Suite 418B was different- I mean very different was his name. Of course, there were other things too I noticed as I have stated before I am quite observant.  The pictures hanging on the walls of his office were all bridges. In fact, I’d venture to say more than half of them depicted as a main subject the specific spaces under bridges.  And there were lots of statues-  gnomes, fairies, elves, gargoyles and the like scattered tastefully about the room.  There was even a gold framed photo of that ogre chick from that fairy tale movie on his desk. What washer name?  Freeona?

All of the above mentioned were pretty positive clues but when I saw him reading “Three Billy Goats Gruff” I was sure.  Well, that and the name on his door.  (A. Troll )was his name. That is why i think my coworker is actually a troll.




Writing Prompt: Sam refused to relieve me from my duty again.

Writing Prompt:   Sam refused to relieve me  from my duty again.


Sam  just stared as he stood
looking and looking.
Facinated by  ham
 that I  was  just cooking.

The ham, of course,
 sat quite green on a plate.
Sam shook his head,
No, I already ate.

Relieve me from duty!
Please Sam, I am!
I've frenched and I've fried.
I've spicked and I've spammed.

It's your turn to serve
these diners to dine.
I've worried and scurried,
Just look at that line!

The Lorax was offended
He peeked down through the leaves.
Quiet!  Yall shush!
 I can't hear the trees.

Horton trumped his trumpter.
Yes, me too.
I can't hear a what,
 a when or a who.

Relieve me from duty!
Now! Sam I am.
I am dizzy and whizzy
from  green eggs and ham.

Sam bowed a low bow,
Then in  whispery wheeze,
To be sure, Sweet Madam.
You need only say PLEASE.

Wednesday, August 3, 2016

Writing Prompt: "Who is It?"

Writing Prompt:  "Who is It?"



 "Who is it?" I asked my teenage son. "Who is knocking at the door?"
" I don't know, I'll check."
I heard him shuffle to the door. Why does he always do that? Why doesn't he pick up those feet!" I heard the front door open and strained to listen to what was being said but heard nothing. I flung the covers off and sat on the side of the bed. Still trying to listen as my feet found my slippers.

"WHO IS IT?" I yelled down the hall.
Shuffling feet came closer.
"Well, it could be the milk man but we get our milk fromthe grocery." Shuffler said with a laugh.
"Or it could be Herman Munster."
That surprised me. I didn't think he knew who Herman Munster was but I was certain it wasn't him at the door.

Feet came closer still.

"Or it might have been Nicolas Cage or Clark Gable?"

I finally jump from my bed and fly down the hall.
I grabbed the shuffler, stared directly into his face.
"Who was it?" I yelled.

"Oh, who was it at the door you mean-just now?"
"YES! YES! Who?"
The sufffler had me andhe knew it. He let me dangle a moment.

"It was a stranger and I didn't talk to him because you said never to talk to strangers.

Saturday, July 30, 2016

Writing Prompt first and last line

Writing prompt :  first line:  It was a dark and stormy night
                            ;ast line: and there was much rejoicing.

It was a dak and stormy night.  In fact, it was the darkest and stormiest night ever recorded at the National Weather Service.  The darkness was so dense it hung like listless black velvet drapes on old mansion windows. The darkness enveloped the space like a tomb. The air was so dank and dark you could cut it with a cheese knife or butter knife if you were so inclined. 

Althea picked up a jewel-toned butter knife from the tray that held corn bread cut preciecly into 2 1/2 inch squares.  She poured buttermilk from a silver urn into a sparkling goblet handed one to Reginald then pour one for herself.

The lights suddenly flickered then went out.  All was blackness.  Lightening crashed, the upstairs maid screamed as a gust of wind blew the storm outside inside.  When the lights flickered back on, the corn bread and buttermilk had disappeared and so had Althea.
Amy stopped reading and lay down the manuscript and looked  around the room expectantly.
"Well, how do you like my first attempt at writing a novel?"

Amy's guests looked one to the other but said nothing.
"I have more but I don't think I'll share it just now"  Amy said studying each face .

Suddenly, everyone began cheer and clap at the same time and there was much rejoicing.

Wednesday, July 27, 2016

Writing Prompt: ending with (And that was that)

Writing Prompt:  Ending with  (And that was that)

I took out my yellow pad and began to write. I wrote ever fury, every injustice, every red hot shard of anger. I wrote until angry turned to sadness and sadness turned to tears. Then as always, I tore the letter into a million pieces. And that was that.