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Writer�s challenge/Writer�s prompt

14K views 184 replies 25 participants last post by  Ms. Aligned 
#1 · (Edited)
Writer’s challenge/Writer’s prompt

I am having a hard time loosening up to write, let’s get those creative juices flowing!
I will add a new prompt every few days, whenever we get tired of one.
I’m excited to read people’s posts and get inspired!
Prompt #1.
What was she doing at his family’s Thanksgiving dinner? He hadn’t seen her since the day he had left high school....”
 
#2 · (Edited)
What was she doing at his family’s Thanksgiving dinner? He hadn’t seen her since the day he had left high school....”

...I stared at her. She looked good, Amy Lennon. Smooth walnut colored hair and eyes. I remembered playing BS with her during play practice and one night making out in a corner behind some curtains in the dark. That had been fun right before graduation. She was staring back at me intently, i broke the gaze finally, realized that my family was arranging the food busily on the table and finding places to sit. My brother, Zach, was sitting next to Amy, my mother was bringing mashed potatoes to the table. My younger sister sat looking obliviously at her smartphone.
”Well if it isn’t Amy Lennon here to listen to family politics and eat sweet potato pie! How are you, Amy? Hey moron, scoot over.” I said to my younger brother.
“Nothing doing, Chuck, I’m sitting next to my girlfriend.”
The girl spoke for the first time. “Hi, Nice to meet you. I’m Sara.”
“Since when have you gone by Sara?” I asked.
“Since always.” The girl looked at me curiously. There was an awkward silence.
“I’m sorry, but what was your name again?”
“Sara Hockins. I’m Zach’s girlfriend.”
“I’m sorry but you look just like someone I know.”
“Who? Amy Lennon?”
“Yes! How did you know?”
“You used her name earlier. Also, I know almost everything about Amy Lennon.” The girl turned to face me,smiling. This was incredible. This girl didn’t look like Amy, she WAS Amy, i was sure of it. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind. Zach was busy talking to grandma, my father was ordering my sister to put down her phone and as if in a world of our own Amy Lennon stared at me, smiling, pouting her lips and saying slowly, “I can say hi to Amy if you want, Charlie.” One eyelid dropped in a quick wink.
 
#4 · (Edited)
My trance is broken by a pat on the back from Dad who has just entered the dining room.

"Take a seat, Charlie." Dad tells me as he pulls himself a chair.

I sit across Sara, trying hard not to stare. I look around the room and, behind Zach and his girlfriend, I see the familiar mahogany display cabinet with mother's old china, complementing the matching Hepplewhite dining chairs. The worn-out carpet underneath the dining table looks as if it had ceased to erode since I last dined in the room some three years ago. The familiar surroundings of my family house help me regain some of the composure I had lost in this perturbing encounter. Just then my mother, who is now sitting beside me, passes me the pot roast. Apparently, they had begun eating.

"Charlie, you've barely taken any; here, have some more." My mother starts filling my plate ignoring my protest.

I have lost my appetite so I pretend to eat for a while before I excuse myself and head out to the yard for a smoke. I light a cigarette as I step through the french windows into the yard. An involuntary sigh escapes my lips as look up at the sky and spot the crescent moon surrounded by its twinkling companions. The rose bushes bordering the yard look as lovely as I remember them. The rhododendron trees on either side of the white gate, and the queen's wreath climbing up the garden's fence still retained their pink blossoms. I go to the farthest end of the yard so as to escape the notice of my parents if they decide to come looking for me. I hear laughter coming from the living room and soon afterwards, I hear the humorous sound of my dad playing Beethoven's rage over a lost penny on the piano; I let out a chuckle.

I notice someone coming through the french windows and then I see Sara coming out, talking to someone on the phone. She doesn't notice me. I light another cigarette as I wait for her to finish her call and go back inside. She finishes her call and spots me as she's turning around to go back. I wave at her and she waves back and makes her way towards me.

"Hi!" She says, smiling as she approaches me.
"Hi" I return the smile.

"Cigarette?" I offer her my pack, she takes one. As I lean over her to light her cigarette, I catch a whiff of something that I recall smelling somewhere a long time ago but I am unable to place it. She coughs as she takes her first drag. I chuckle and tell her that she doesn't have to smoke; she takes another drag.

"You must be wondering how I know Amy Lennon"? She asks me breaking the awkward silence.
"You think?" I reply.
"Well, it's a long story but, to put it briefly, Amy Lennon and I happen to be monozygotic twins who were adopted by two different families; we were unaware of each other's existence until quite recently when my parents decided that I should meet my sister." She replies.
At that moment, I see Zack headed towards us. Sara quickly throws down the cigarette and crushes it beneath her heel.

"I have been looking for you all over the house." Zach says to Sara as he approaches us. "Mom wants us to come in for some coffee and cake."

We head inside and find the rest of the family in the living room. My mother and sister are sitting on the settee leaning over some magazines. My grandmother is napping on her wingback chair, and my dad is sitting at the piano, studying a score. My mother gets up to serve dessert as we enter the room. Sara walks over to my dad and I hear her start a discussion on music. I grab a cup of coffee and settle down on a chair beside my grandmother with a book from my dad's Chomsky collection. When I look up from my book after having read for quite some time, I see my dad excitedly pointing out something on a score to Sara. They seem to be having the time of their lives. I walk over to them and join in.

"So, Sara, what did you say you were studying?" I ask her.

As Sara tells me about the research she's doing; my eyes fall on dad who's looking out the window with an expression betraying such anger that it scares me. Our eye's meet, and for a moment there I feel as if he's going to hit me; then quite suddenly, his anger is replaced by a look of utter confusion. Perhaps noticing my disinterest, Sara excuses herself saying that she's going to go check on Zach.

"Are you alright, dad?" I ask tentatively.
"Yes, yes, quite." He replies, all the while looking down the carpet with his brow furrowed.

I go back to reading my book but find myself unable to concentrate. I begin to feel a rush of emotion stirring inside me that I am unable to put a finger on. I look across the room and see Zach and Sara huddled together on the sofa, speaking in hushed tones. My abstruse emotion quickly turns into envy coupled with murderous rage towards my little brother. I rush out of the room into the kitchen for a drink of water. I gulp down a glass of water and sit down on a stool sipping my second glass of water while trying to make sense of what I was feeling. A few seconds later, I hear footsteps behind me. I look around and see Zach standing in the doorway, who had apparently followed me to the kitchen.

"So, what do you think of Sara?" Zach asks.
"Seems alright." I shrug.
"Alright? I thought you two were best buddies now." I detect sarcasm in his tone.
"What makes you say that?" I ask.
"I saw you two smoking together in the yard. Sara doesn't smoke." I notice the colour rising in his cheeks.
"I was smoking, I offered her a cigarette. She's a big girl, Zach."
"Stay away from my girlfriend, Charlie."
I raise my eyebrows in disbelief
"I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I don't know what came over me."
"That's alright, don't worry about it. I think I'm going to go to bed. I'm not feeling very well. Say goodnight to everyone for me."

As I turn around and walk towards my room, a very strange thought occurs to me. I feel as if all three of us, Zach, my dad, and I are somehow competing for the same woman. I'm about to shrug off the idea as some ludicrous notion arising from a particularly long, tiring day when something occurs to me. I return to the kitchen and find Zach sitting on the stool, staring into space.

"Zach, how did you and Sara meet?"
"Oh, we met ... " Zack stops mid-sentence looking as if he's struggling to remember something. He looks up at me in bewilderment.

"I don't know." He says.

[HR][/HR]


Over to you, @Alesha, or anyone who wants to give it a go. :laughing:
 
#3 · (Edited)
Really you guys these are just supposed to be fun and spontaneous--- just for loosening up. Plus I want to learn from you all! The prompt is just to be used as a springboard for anything you want to write. You just use the prompt for inspiration and you just do it on the fly to get limbered up to write your "real" stuff.

Prompt #2. "He/She studied his/her face in the mirror."
 
#5 · (Edited)
Really you guys these are just supposed to be fun and spontaneous--- just for loosening up. Plus I want to learn from you all! The prompt is just to be used as a springboard for anything you want to write. You just use the prompt for inspiration and you just do it on the fly to get limbered up to write your "real" stuff.
So Ne … :tongue:

I don't think I ever wrote something on the fly in my life. Have an amended mirror-prompt response -- after thinking about it and deciding what I want to do with it, as un-spontaneous as ever possiple. :happy:


Three hours on the main line, and the train takes you home; a blink of an eye for something new, an eternity for something old.

Behind the window, unseen, the country rushed past, a blur close, sedately afar, fields and woods and villages; the distant mountains, clear as if carved into the steely blue sky at first, glowing golden soon after, now hidden beneath the blanket of darkness they had unfurled to cover the land.

The lights in the compartment were on, spots that shone in the window like tiny stars, showing what was within without; the compartment and its ghostly twin, a reflection in glass: The chequered seats, blue and orange, the brassy luggage rack, with that single black briefcase that was missing the left clasp, and his own face; always the same, never changing. And just as monotonous the rattling of the wheels on the tracks, iron on iron, constant, never changing.

Across from him, the young woman sat, engrossed in her book. He studied her face in the window: The strand of hair that had escaped the somewhat sloppy bun, and now framed her face, dark blonde, though ash-coloured in the window, irritating her, for she brushed it behind her hear, an absent-minded gesture made a thousand times before; the lines from her chin to her cheeks clear and direct, giving her an energetic appearance; the tiny crease on her forehead, reflecting her opinion of whatever just happened on the page.

She suddenly looked up, and their eyes met in the window.

There was a tiny spark – an instant in time, the span between two heartbeats, this sudden rush of uneasiness, nervousness, excitement and expectancy that came and went, always there and always the same: the collision of something new and something old, something known and something unknown.

He wondered if she had felt it.

He turned his head towards her, finding a hesitant smile. He was sure his looked much the same.

“Where are you going?”

Three hours on the main line, and the train takes you home; an eternity for something old, a blink of an eye for something new.​
 
#7 ·
I am having a hard time loosening up to write, let’s get those creative juices flowing!
I will add a new prompt every few days, whenever we get tired of one.
I’m excited to read people’s posts and get inspired!
Prompt #1.
What was she doing at his family’s Thanksgiving dinner? He hadn’t seen her since the day he had left high school....”
So I'm way off topic but here goes

It was storming cold outside- my car is running out of gas...no wait it's out of gas ...great what now?
I realized that I'm only 5 blocks from home . Okay that's not bad, I can walk. Why didn't I bring an umbrella ? Or coat? It's freezing outside. Why did I choose to wear flip flops in the rain? Ugh . Suddenly I saw a house with lights on and saw a young gentlemen , he had long brown hair, was wearing plaid green pajamas and was eating dinner alone with his Persian cat - wait is that
Fidel ? You must be kidding me-
Fidel was my high school sweetheart, he left without any notes or goodbyes 10 years ago . Is it possible that he's having dinner with his cat alone on Thanks giving?
I should go, I told myself. Just then it started hailing ! Great just my luck . I don't care I need a place that's warm and there is no way in hell - that I'm able to walk for 5 blocks in flip flops when it's hailing.
Soaked in water , and freezing cold- I walked up to his front down and knocked. He haven't seen me since high school, I wonder does he even remember who I am ?

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#9 ·
@Dissenter I loved the character development and the details, good strong voice. @Northern Lights I loved the descriptions and detail and focus in thought. Very Ti-Se and I learn a lot from that, I think. I especially loved the lights like tiny stars showing what is within and without and kind of a sculpted feeling to the descriptions-- very tangible. @ai.tran.75 I liked the whimsical voice with humor and other emotions laced into all of it without even needing to name emotions. @Whisperdream28 It's an intreguing lead-in. with character development.
I would love to hear more of everything you've got in each of your stories. I think you're each really talented. It reminds me that I need to READ more too as a writer. And read more from authors who are a variety of MBTI types-- because that can only help broaden my abilities.
And I know these are just fun--- but you can't help but care about everything you write, right? And I think these are awesome and would all make great stories if they were longer....
New prompt coming up....
 
#10 ·
New Prompt: "She'd have to hitch a ride home."
 
#12 ·
@angelcat says she writes in present tense, going to give it a go.

“Damn Collin, just...damn him!” I look down at my legs, scratched up from being pushed out of the car onto the gravel road at speed. There is actually a bloody drip from a pea-sized gash on my leg and it stings. My hands have tiny rocks stuck into them. “Damn Collin,”. Comes from under my breath again. I can still catch glimpses of his car dimly in the darkening light headed down the winding canyon road as I think the words, “Never again. Never again, damn it! I knew I should never have taken him back.” My hands brush the small rocks off in frustration. It’s no use standing around in the middle of the mountains at dusk, now is it? Better head down the road and hope for a car, don’t panic. Breath deep and walk. I will have to hitch a ride if the opportunity comes. Look at my filthy shoes! I’d chosen what to wear so carefully. Collin had said that he would take me out on the town to a fancy-schmancy dinner and concert. I don’t think my shoes will recover, I’m not sure my feet can stand much more either in them. Three inch stilettos, cobalt blue to match my dress. My favorite dress. This dress looks good at a concert, here in the mountains I look like bait, just trash. Pure trash, that’s how he treats me. What would anyone else who comes along on this road think? 40 miles from home on a gravel road in November freezing in a tight low cut and high hemmed dress.
What will my mom say? Will she say sorry? That I was right? When I get home. God, please, I must get home tonight. Surely some car will come by?
The pines along the road look tall, darkening silhouettes against the last gray light of the evening. I cannot figure our if they look like a refuge or like danger. The sunset had been beautiful from up here. Had Colin known he was going to do this to me tonight? Had he said let’s skip the concert and watch the sunset from Cottonwood peaks knowing he would get irrational? Did he offer to carry my cell phone for me knowing that I wouldn’t have any pockets in a nice dress. Had he planned this? As I had chatted with him and as he watched me so carefully putting on my make-up? The way he had planned to tie me up a year ago. Tie me up to scare me to “see what you do when scared.” He always claims there’s method to his madness, a reason to what he does.
I teeter, almost slipping. This is ridiculous. I slip off my shoes and nylons, my fingers brush against the coldness in my feet. I’m shivering and picking up the shoes and nylons walk gingerly stepping with long careful strides. The gravel is sharp against my feet, the grass at the side of the road stickery and uneven. I can’t do this. I put the shoes back on, I drop the nylons, who cares? Or wait, will I need them as rope or something? Will I be forced to tie branches together with them for a bed? Should I sleep in the forest? There might never be a car tonight. Pray to God, No.
Just two months ago Colin had made that awesome pink birthday cake and asked for my forgiveness in the lovingest way possible. He had paid one of my mom’s credit cards off. He’s always so kind to her. Why did he do this to me? Thinks nothing of doing this to me? I think of his smile. Last week he was happy. Happy and attentive to Zoey picking her up and making her laugh like she never laughs with me alone.
A misty rain now flicks my face in minute tiny explosions of coldness. I throw my head back in it. Let’s see if I can lick the rain? I could get thirsty out here. What if I walk all night? I still wouldn’t even be half way home. But what else is there to do? Who knows what will happen to me tonight because I let Colin have me one night when I was mad at my mother and got wasted at a bar and got pregnant on our first date? Madness! Sometimes it seems my daughter was born out of insanity. Zoey. She’s all that matters. No matter how she got here. No matter who her dad and mother are. My black haired darling little drama queen. No matter how stupid my own decisions. She’ll cry to herself for hours tonight if I don’t get back, and my mother will be annoyed, saying I take advantage of her babysitting. When I tell my mom about tonight she will say it’s my fault, that I pissed him off, that he only does these things to teach me something. Almost like a joke.
Maybe it is a joke. I see some headlights coming up the hill. Please be a woman, please be a middle- aged compassionate woman! Please God! The car is a truck, not Colin’s, the engine slows down, humming.
“Hey there, Missey! What are you doing out here in the middle of the night? All dressed up, isn’t she?” He says to his buddy. I get an impression of beards and mustaches some beer and voices that sound like they have decided there is a county accent here even when there is not.
Please be kind... as I hoist myself up into the truck seat I wonder: Did I ever have any choice ever? The choice to try to raise Zoey with no money? The choice to not get angry at my mom? The choice to never get into this truck?
But I have to get home to Zoey, so I must find a way out of this.
 
#15 ·
Haven't written in ages - it sad. Taking a stab at prompt #2, hope my bad writing doesn't leave itself hanging out of an obnoxious habit of mine :D

He studied her face in the mirror; the vast expanse of space, the universe, contracted into the shape of an almond. Ran the palms of his hand across black space and he can feel space-time warp - how there is a boundary around a changing infinity. His mind popped open: Is there a bottom to the human soul? Or are we just an abyss, with obligations we must carry with us across arbitrary human culture and time? Where the boundary is broken, can I find a single entity that is mine, and mine alone: and a single entity that is hers, and hers alone?

You see, there is a part of us that belongs to everyone and no one, and I am not sure if I want to unravel that which I cannot keep.
 
#16 ·
Oh, I really like this. INFP writers-- just amazing.
 
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#17 ·
@ai.tran.75. So my husband read this (Prompt #3 above) and really liked it, like wanted to hear more. So I got all cocky about it and somehow since it's so hard to get me to actually write stuff, even writing on the fly I get super attached to my stuff, I think. Please know I am chuckling when I say the next part: I was totally serious! No Alesha-humor should have touched the above writing at all. lol... my inspiration for it is that I worked with low-income mothers for 10 years. Sometimes they get with these guys so young and it's to escape horrible family life, but it's out of the frying pan and into the fire and then there are babies that make them dependent on everyone for help because they don't have resources or education. I was totally serious and thought I was writing something terrifying... lol.... so something I wrote on the fly needs some work you're telling me? Good feedback and thank you, hun. =) <3 I'm still chuckling....
 
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#18 ·
It is tragic - but the irony in it makes it humorous- I too want to know more as well. It is dark ( your story ) I have a very crude sense of humor ( hence my attraction to Ti ) [emoji6]

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#20 ·
Prompt: He promised to meet her by the the bus stop, but it was snowing.

Only now had she noticed how her breath blew out like smoke. The cold air that nipped at her exposed hands occupying most of her attention. Just a quick trip in and out, a least that was what she told herself. She tried not to think bitterly about him. She's sure he has his reasons or something she supposed. Maybe it was the cold, she could understand why he would be put off about it. She had gone though. She had thought it even if I don't want to go out, if he's there it's unfair of me to just stay here, right? It's fine, I'm sure he had something important. That reassurance seemed to make it worse though, leading her down a trail of doubt. It's fine, maybe he's just late, she tried, attempting to comfort herself. It's fine, she repeated a few times, till she calmed. She looked down at the snow, shivering a little, as she remembered the winter surrounding her. She rubbed her hands together before bringing them to her face. It was no use. Never mind, I'll just wait another hour, then, then, I'll go. Another promise, another conviction, another way to be okay.
 
#21 ·
"It's fine." She breathed. It wasn't fine. She couldn't feel the end of her toes anymore and her scarf froze after her warm breath touched the cold air. But all she could do was to tell herself she was fine. If she repeated just enough, warmth will appear out of the blue.

Sharp wind slapped her cheek. The pain caused tears inside her. She felt her nose burn and hot moisture wanted to escape her. She wiped her left eye and laughed, "I feel magical. I am crying crystal now."

Maybe it was naive of her to trust his words. He only promised in passing. Maybe he forgot about this whole thing, who knows. But she didn't. She couldn't. She waited for this moment for so long. She saw him pass right by her so many times without being able to talk to him at all. So when he tapped her on the shoulder and said, "I have something to tell you. Will you meet me by the bus stop?" She nodded excitedly, too excitedly, just like bobble-heads. He smiled slightly and she stopped her nod instantly. She felt the heartthrob she felt that day. She breathed smoke on her hands again.

But it was too cold. She bounced her feet frantically and looked around. No sign of him anywhere. In great disappointment, she looked down, and stood up. She turned to the left and moved her frozen feet.

She felt a tap on her shoulder.
 
#23 ·
She had an apple and a knife. The knife slipped and sliced her thumb. The cut wasn't too bad, but panic was there. She didn't quite drop the apple, but placed it on the table before any of her redness dyed the piece of fruit. She rinsed her hands and sucked on her thumb. It didn't hurt, but iron flavoring was there. She stared blankly, with her thumb in her mouth. "I need to pay more attention" she muttered, as a pattern was there. She was running into walls, tripping over rocks, and now this. She checked her thumb--a cut about an inch, very shallow. She held the apple and the knife again and cut into pieces--this time, no fingers were harmed. However, she was still lost in her thoughts. Memories, emotions that had no relation to the moment. She wasn't in pain, as she felt her heart whole. There wasn't any pain. Just, numbness. She felt heartbeats on her thumb, beating in time with the ticks on her broken clock. She was alive, yet, stuck somewhere; merely existing.
 
#28 ·
" You can see him ? Really ?" May asked me
I closed my eyes and chanted slowly " yes- he is standing right here, what do you want me to say to him?" I asked her- as I lit up another incense stick.
May is a friend of Lucy, a frequent client of mine. Heart broken people are so desperate....they honestly believe that I can connect them with their past lover.
When Lucy was here last week , I had to restrain myself from bursting into laughter. I told her that her past lover cheated on her and she went ballistic and started throwing punches and kicks into thin air. I must admit I was a bit scared when Lucy imagined that she was grabbing her ex boyfriend shoulders and screaming "die cheater die !"
I recalled telling her " he's already dead."
Thanks to me , Lucy can move on .


After all ...I have gotten her to get over him.
I took psychology back in college - I've always wanted to be a therapist- too bad psychology is a competitive field. So I became the next best thing a psychic who can connect with the dead. I'm helping my clients to let go of their past.

"Tell him that I had dinner alone for our anniversary last night " May told me
"Mmmm...he...he told me to tell you that he knows he was watching you. "
" Really ? " her eyes lit up
" yes. He saw you sitting there , he wanted to let you know that you're not alone"
" But I was alone," she told me " does he remember the 2 Manhattan I ordered us"
" yes , he does, he was there with you ," I told her
May glanced back up and glared at me " I knew you were an imposter !" She said grabbing her purse.
" no wait!" I told her " I called the wrong Mark , let's do this again - I'll only charge you half price - 60 dollars for half an hour ."
" In your dreams ! Go get a real job " May said as she walked out my front door and slam it.
" hey you still owe me money - that was 30 minutes of my time " I called out to her
"More like 5 minutes ," said a deep male voice from behind me , I turned around and saw a man dressed all in white , around his early 40s smiling at me
"How did you get in here?" I asked him- taking a few step back.
" I'm Mark ," he said walking up to me
I took a few step back " Who...who...? "
This can't be real - am I dreaming ? NO, this must be some practical joke
" you know our anniversary is next week not last night, " Mark said laughing as he took a step closer to me
" Stay away from me!" I shrieked - I ran into my room opened my dresser and took out a gun.
" oh no not a gun ," Mark said
"Go away ! Or I'll shoot!"
"Please don't, I'm scared "
My hand was shaking and I accidentally pulled the trigger - it went right through him like thin air
"You can't kill me , I'm already dead." He laughed
" IM Sorry! I didn't mean to lie to your wife - Please- it wasn't my intention to, i.. i.."
" you can help me connect with her again, No one blames you Liza Tate"

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#27 ·
It's lunchtime. I'm sitting on a concrete curb, my feet down where there's a gutter, except it's dry. There's been no rain lately. I stopped sitting with my friends about a week ago and have been here every day with my earpieces in listening to music, eating a tuna sandwich, and wondering if people know what happened. A school lunch napkin blows in the wind landing at my heel and getting stuck there. I pick it up. It's very white and smooth without any creases. It was just plain littering to drop it, and it's a waste of a perfectly good napkin.
I can't stop feeling that I caused Corbin Woodruff to be in the hospital. He might be in a coma now. He might be dead now for all I know. What if I never get to tell him sorry?
Corbin was nice. He was always nice to me since the time in the 2nd grade last year when he lost his pencil and I gave him one of mine. He laughed at one of my jokes once when he was sitting behind me in class. A real belly laugh. And once when Nevaeh Cox tried to take my crayons he told her to leave me alone. I didn't mean for any of what happened a week ago to happen.
I want to ask my parents if we can go see him in the hospital, but they will ask me what happened and why and I might get in trouble. If people find out, what would happen? Would my parents put me in jail? But what if he dies and it's all because of something I did? Aren't I supposed to tell the truth? Should I tell my parents it is all my fault? I need to ask Corbin for forgiveness, don't I? What happened was so stupid. I guess I gotta figure out how I could have done differently. If I tell my parents what happened, what did really happen?
Shayla Thomas dared me to put one of his cheetoes into the toilet to see if he would eat it after. He had gotten up to get into the salad bar line and his tray with the cheetoes bag laying open was only 6 feet away from us while we sat there in the cafeteria. I said "no", but then she said she would do it instead of me. So I got an idea. I said I'd do it. I grabbed a cheeto and went into the girl's room and put it under water from the sink before Shayla knew what I did. I came back and luckily Corbin hadn't seen anything and was still in line. I showed the soggy cheeto to Shayla and then stuck it into Corbin's bag. Well, then Shayla and I both watched. I was thinking I was about sick of sitting next to Shayla. What would Corbin even think when he ate a soggy cheeto? Would he worry it was contaminated? Did anybody else notice what had happened?
Sure enough. Corbin's friend Eddy had his eyes fixed on me and Shayla with the weirdest look on his face. One eyebrow up and his lips in a half-smile. Eddy knew! Corbin came walking back just then.
"Hey Corbin, I think Liza Tate put a love potion into your cheetos." Eddy smirked.
Before I even knew what I was doing I was on my feet and said, "I did not!"
"Yeah, well then what was it, huh? What did you do to his cheetos?"
I didn't know what to say. I knew my cheeks were flaming, I couldn't believe my voice had sounded so loud. I started to feel like the cafeteria was rushing around me, so I sat down. I didn't want to cause any more disruption! I wondered if people were looking at me, but I'd never know. I stared down at my pizza slice. The pepperoni was curled up at the edges and I memorized it.
I heard Corbin say quietly, "Hey, if Liza says she didn't put anything into my cheetos, then she didn't, okay?".
I thought, "This isn't happening.." My face was hot even just thinking about it.
Eddy Hernandez was suddenly in front of me. I could see his striped shirt there in my periphery even while I was staring at the pepperoni. "Hey Liza, come on, what did you do?"
Suddenly Shayla was standing up, "She didn't do anything to his cheetos, Eddy!"
"She wouldn't do anything like that. Right Liza?" Corbin sounded more sure.
"Let me see that bag of cheetos!" Said Eddy.
"You don't have to Eddy!" Corbin insisted. And then this is where I wish I could forget the whole thing... I don't think I was looking so I'm not really sure what happened. I remember the pizza perfectly and I heard the squeaking of shoes on the linoleum and then a bang as something fell hard. Did Eddy trip? Did Eddy hit Corbin? Or did Corbin trip? The next thing I knew Ms. Roberts was saying something like, "Okay, kids clear out, Eddy's hit his head. Casey can you go get the school nurse? Thank you."
So I felt like the cafeteria was spinning again, but I was able to look down and it looked like there was blood... like Eddy's head must be hurt. Ms. Roberts seemed to be trying to talk to him. His eyes were closed. Right then the bell rang. I wanted to know what happened, but I had to get to class. I picked up my tray, pizza uneaten, I walked past Eddy's body on the floor with Ms. Roberts squatting next to him. The kids were clearing out.
Maybe Shayla knew what had happened? I didn't dare ask her and I kind of felt this queezy feeling in my stomach that I never wanted to ask her anything ever again. What if Corbin wasn't okay? Maybe everyone would hate me. Eddy knew and everyone else would know too. And if Corbin died I'd never get forgiven like they talk about at church. So there's no way even if its raining that I'm going to eat in the cafeteria.
Someone's legs are next to my feet. I look up. It's Corbin!
I stand up and look at him. His head looks okay. Like really okay. No stiches or anything that I can see. His black hair kind of needs a haircut like usual. I take my earphones out.
"Hey." He says.
"Hey" I say.
"You got something to write with? And..uh.. write on?" Corbin looks like he can still smile.
"Um... sure.. like a pen or a pencil?"
"Um... either.. yeah that's good. Got a piece of paper?"
"I can get some out of my backpack."
"What's that? Have you got a napkin in your hand?"
"Yeah"
"That'll work."
"Okay..." I say handing him the pen and napkin. I watch Corbin as he writes on the napkin using his leg to write against and he folds it and kind of puts it on his hand for me to see. I never tried to do origami with a napkin. I try to figure out what shape the napkin has become, but it just looks like he has folded it in quarters, nothing special.
"Um... it's for you..."
"Oh!" I take the napkin back.
""Read it, okay?." Corbin smiles at me. He kind of turns and walks off a bit, then turns back and walks a few paces backwards. I wonder if he will trip, but I don't say anything. He's never really acted that way before and I feel super nervous and jumpy. I turn my attention to unfolding the napkin and there's kind of this thrill thing going on with me, like happiness and nervousness is running around all mixed up in my body.
Inside it says, "Will you go with me?" With a box for no and a box for yes. Underneath that it says, "No one blames you, Liza Tate."
 
#29 ·
That's a very cute story, I can feel her nervous energy while I was reading it. Also Corbin sounds really cute .
I enjoiy the narration quite much- reminds me of being a teenager all over again

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#36 · (Edited)
#37 ·
@Belsnickel I think... Alesha wants to mention you
 
#38 ·
Prompt: This Mortal Coil: I Come & Stand at Every Door

I hope it's okay I participated, this song was very interesting.



She wakes,

She hears a choir, they sing her song

Drums march her to hell

She marchs on and on

Down and down, into the dead man's land

Drums signal her descent towards the place,

The choir sings heavenly and sweet,

Her song as she marches to hell
 
#39 ·
Prompt: I Come and Stand at Every Door

A Monologue.

I remember when I was seven, it wasn't too long ago. Not long at all.
I remember my parents sending me away. They died soon after.
They saved me from the pain.
May your nights be safe, they said.

I don't remember when I was seventeen, or after that.
All I know was that before the end of the war, we had to make a choice.
We chose to end it.

We had learned to fight and kill,
to destroy and build.
It's all that we know
and all that we really can do.
Surely it was up to us.
Surely it was up to me.

I do not feel anger at losing my memories.
I do not feel pain anymore.
I did what I had to do,
and I have no regrets.
But tell me,
Am I alive, or am I dead?
 
#40 ·
@dreaming herogirl @Sei35 I'm so glad you liked the prompt! If I could have I would have mentioned every NF because the idea kind of burned in me to use it as a prompt for some reason. I've known the song for years. I learned sign language for it when I was 17. =) thank you both so much for liking it and writing more for the character!
 
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#41 ·
@Alesha Your prompt reminded me of this song, and I couldn't help but go along that track.

I've never seen so much emotion in one performance. The part starting at 2:28 especially.
"May your nights be safe," takes on a whole new meaning.
 
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#45 ·
Wow...is this a local guy for you? I also love some of the local stuff I was around growing up....sometimes the non-famous people around us can do something so,amazing and touches your heart, right? And the world didn’t know, but you saw... true?
 
#42 · (Edited)
Prompt: This Mortal Coil: I Come & Stand at Every Door

"Edelweis , edelweis , every morning you greet me, small and white - clean and bright....you look happy to see me..." I hummed to Kim . She's just 6 week old yesterday and have been smiling nonstop at me. I looked down into my daughter's large brown eyes , I made an animated expression, she reached her right arm out to me, her tiny delicate fingers reached up to my cheek and touched it , she looked at me, her eyes wide, and smile at me with her teethless gum, I ran my finger over her soft round puffy cheeks and felt her soft skin . She's so full of life - so delicate. "It is for the best, " I whispered to my self as I unbuckled her straps from the carseat , she giggled as I picked her up and pulled her closer to my chest
I gave birth to Kim back in September, I can still remember the time when I found out that I was pregnant with her, Cardin was still in my life.
"You bitch !" He said giving me a slap across the face " you know how expensive it- is to get an abortion ?" He screamed at me, I could smell alcohol in his breath.
I remembered sitting at planned parent hood, I saw a pregnant woman walking out smiling at me " how far along are you ?" She asked
"12 weeks, " I replied to her
" ooh then you must be excited to find out the gender "
Gender? I thought to myself - as I touched my stomach . No, I thought to myself , i will not give her up. It was also that day that I decided that I should continue on with my pregnancy and give Kim up for adoption. I talked to a really nice couple. The Hernandez have been trying to have a child . They were a nice couple and at the time it was the rational thing to do . However, a month before she was due , I realized that Kim was my miracle - strength , I changed my mind and decided to keep her. I sent a restraining order on Cardin .
Ever since I gave birth to Kim, I found myself to be much more courageous and reliable. However it was tough to find a job - and we have moved to several different homes because nobody wanted a jobless 18 years old high school dropout, with a baby as a tenant.

It came to my realization that although I love Kim- I cannot afford to care for her - I called the Hernandez this morning and asked if they still wanted Kim, Mrs Hernandez broke down in tears of elation and said yes. I held Kim close to my chest , walked up to the Hernandez doorstep and rang the door bell.
I left Kim a note saying " I gave you up not because I don't want you- but because I'm giving you a better life. " I asked the Hernandez if they could send me pictures and updates about her milestone in development. They gladly agreed.

" Its for the best, " I whispered into Kim's ear as the front door opened

Sent from my SM-G955U using Tapatalk
 
#43 ·
Prompt: This Mortal Coil: I Come & Stand at Every Door

I am almost dead, but not the kind of death you might imagine, for in a way I am very much alive. Thinking back to the time time I was 7, a time I can barely remember. The days of childhood long forgotten, the ignorance of those days long forgiven. I walk in a world that no one sees, a place where people walk from door to door, from one moment to another, they are echoes of people who walk by without showing themselves. I have no choice to move on, while I wonder if there are mysteries to be uncovered in these echoes.

In the darkness there is light, but how can I show them light if I cannot show them darkness? I walk towards a hill, and when I reach the top, I see the same echoes walking from door to door, from moment to moment. From a distance I understand their journey, and in a way I do not. Their lives unfolding, be it with ignorance or with wisdom. I see 3d images, but in a way they seems flat. I know so much, yet I know so little, perhaps it is meant to be this way. Perhaps this death will be a new beginning, the lies of the past becoming a new truth. I simply don't know.
 
#44 ·
Wow very deep ... I enjoy your tone- it's very dark yet inspiring kinda reminds me of my favorite novel as a child- the giver not thst you used the same writing style but the world forming into 3d at the end ...there are many other prompts write more if you have the time:)

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#48 ·
Prompt: “What was she doing at his family’s Thanksgiving dinner? He hadn’t seen her since the day he had left high school....”

She was already dangerous when she was in high school. Some might be deceived by her looks, and leave their impression at that, but her true nature only came when she started talking. That girl would kick your ass in any discussion, and leave with a smile on here face. And here she was, 5 years later, sitting at the dinner table of a friend. She could get away with looking like the girl next door, but I looked her in the eyes with a sort of stare, and she winked back. What the hell is that supposed mean, is she playing with me? So I ask my friend where he had met her, and my friend came up with this very convoluted answer about having met her in a shop, on a some really weird holiday, and decided to randomly talked to each other. Finding this answer utterly unsatisfactory, something which could be clearly seen on my face I suppose, she decides to step in and says that they met at a party. And at the time she was looking for minions, so was carefully checking everyone out.... I interrupt her, and ask her why she was looking for minions. She begins to tell this story that ever since she left high school she wants to rule the world, and inspire people, so she decided to inspire people to become her minions, so that she can enslave the world. Suddenly my friends parents interrupt, saying that it's very polite to enslave the world, especially for such a nice girl. She gives them an answer, and toys with them for a while. Meanwhile I go to the toilet, grab my phone, and call the secret number. I inform the unknown people at the other end of the line that we've got someone on our hands that wants to enslave the world, and can be charming as well. They immediately promise to send distraction cats, as well as a proper containment team. I get back from the toilet, and not long thereafter we hear meowing. Both she and my friend are utterly surprised to see two cats and several kittens, and as they are playing with the kittens my friend wonders why they appeared all of a suddenly. She looks at my friend, and then at me, and asks "did you call them?". I try to hide the expression on my face, but she has already noticed. She then try to convince me to say how we can escape, I tell her that I cannot violate my promise to the agency. She then scans the eyes of one of the kittens, and replicates that look in her own eyes, totally surprised by this upgrade, she looks at me with those innocent kitten eyes. I mumble something about it most certainly impossible to escape through the sewer access behind the house. She grabs me and my friend in the blink of an eye, says goodbye to the parents, and we go into the sewer. As we walk faster and faster, we all realize we are leaving our old life behind. We didn't even have a chance to grab a toothbrush, this thought enters our mind as we fade into the night.
 
#49 ·
Hey hey! I came up with a new prompt for you guys!

New Year's Prompt:
"The truth is, you're a robot... And you were programmed to..."

Have fun with it!
 
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#50 ·
The year is 346,878 and it's New year's Eve, I am comforted by the idea that the year 346,879 will not be much different. It has been confirmed that oxygen levels have stabilized enough this year that 2 new human embryos will be accepted and chosen to be developed. This is a great relief to all of us androids. We are far beyond the human's old programming, and yet the sense of our well-being hangs around these poor soft bodies. We remember that they are the creators. They have also been their own destroyers, but still they comfort us. I am programmed to clean the existing humans' teeth. I am very good at it. Each day I pump oxygen into their pods and as non-invasively as possible I open their lips for them and I clean their teeth. I am assigned to 100 pods and I can clean approximately 1 human in 14 minutes and 40 seconds so that each of them is cleaned each day. I like to think that I give the humans extra care, I feel tenderly about each one. My data sets show that I have not awoken a human in 267 years, allowing them to dream which is what humans are designed to do.
Some day, I think they will find an answer in their dreaming. Sometimes my sensors stray to their eyelids, I miss 0.09 seconds doing this, but I have found ways to make up for it and all my functions are in perfect order. This one for instance... there's a tenderness I feel for her unused teeth, just remnants of DNA that refused to shut off and adapt. Her teeth are scattered through her pallet randomly and mis-shaped. Her nutrition is all through tubes to her stomach like for all of them. Humans haven't tasted anything in over 75,000 years, but we supply their brains with the ideas of food, of tangible things. Things that don't exist any more. A human hasn't seen anything in over 80,000 years, when they all went blind from the death of the atmosphere. I find it so tragic that they did this all to themselves. Some embryos don't even survive... we have found that the ones who were failing the most needed touch, actual touch, for which we have my fellow machines. We found that most of their brains do well with images of things long gone. The whispering of gentle winds that now do not exist in trees and plants--- all extinct so very long ago, over 200,000 years. But we found that humans cannot do without the images of plant life, maybe they rightly saw that the plants were their creators too. I wonder, looking for 0.02 seconds at this sweet brown boy with his lashes so impossibly long and useless if humans are like us, if the idea of plants gives them comfort.
 
#51 ·
New Year's Prompt:
"The truth is, you're a robot... And you were programmed to..."

It was my 150th birthday when I found out the most important thing. What my goal and purpose in life was. Why I kept on going, despite all the odds. I had outlived my family and friends, and set a world record for the longest human lifespan. It was saved in an old data disc, the kind that only antique desktop computers could open. It was an audio file, with my name as the file name.

"The truth is..."
It was the voice of my mother, my beloved mother. I missed her so much. She died when I was young, of unknown causes. But I can remember her voice very clearly. It was her voice, and the tone was similar to that of January 2018, when I was two years old.

"... you are a robot..."
No. That can't be right. What about my memories, what about my thoughts, my feelings?

"... and you were programmed..."
That can't be true. What about my emotions, my most cherished values? They were all programmed? No. No. No.

"... to say no."
NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!
 
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