Posted in drafts/jewelsintherough, life and reflection, Prompts for Writers, Writer's Prompts

Prompt 500, Inspired by: Lost the Plot? 500 Writing Prompts and How to Use Them

Prompt 500:
Please Let Me Get What I Want, I’m Begging You

 

“Please let me get what I want, I’m begging you.”

No doubt this is what nurses and doctors witness every day—frantic, desperate people, with their plea bargains and threats, people who want nothing more than to spend eternity with those behind the doors of this facility. But this guy could never understand, never know what it feels like to love someone and have to let go, because if he did he’d relent. 

“Fine.” The man in navy scrubs says as he removes his gloves. His voice is weary, his eyes are bloodshot.

I take a step forward, relieved he’s finally softened, that he realizes how important this time is, even though visiting hours ended at 8:30 and it’s 8:36. But as I attempt to go around him, he stops me and suggest I sit. I don’t want to sit. He needs me. Paul needs me.

A wail erupts from someone’s throat. The sound echoes down the hall as a hand squeezes my shoulder, or possibly my chest. So many hands—on me, on Paul. Pushing and pushing.

*

“Paul?”

A grief counselor? Is that who the guy in the navy scrubs said he was sending? Have I really been here that long, in this lobby?

“How are you feeling?”

I’ve never understood that question, never understood time for that matter. Like, how we think we have forever when we barely have today. Or how it feels as though my heart has broken in two.

sms/whatevertheyaint
4/5/17

This super short story came from prompt #500 in the book, Lost the Plot? 500 Writing Prompts and How to Use Them, by Adam Maxwell.

Posted in drafts/jewelsintherough, Prompts for Writers, Writer's Prompts, Writing, Writing and all its cousins

Flash Fiction, Week One

The following exercise is inspired by a writing prompt from, Flash 52: 52 Writing Prompts for a Year of Writing by Jamie DeBree

Richard pours tea and we raise our cups in a celebratory manner. This is our quintet—well, sextet considering Richard. Basically, it’s a group of stressed out writers looking to profit more than gas money from words.

“How’s it going? Any new ideas, progress?” Richard asks.

Sheila’s hand shoots up first. “I don’t know how I did it,” she beams, “but this week,  I managed 50k in between the twins’ naps.”

Another hand goes up. 10K. 6K. More cheers and tea.

“Karen?”

That’s me; it’s my turn. I clutch my yellow notebook to my chest. The notepad is as blank as when I opened it to its first college-ruled page, two weeks ago. How would they know if I did 50K or zero? It isn’t as though we inspect each other’s drafts, at least not during the first part of the month.

“I’m still outlining,” I say, which is neither truth nor lie.

An uncomfortable silence ensues. And then a collective murmur of well, that’s a start.

Sheila’s eyes scan the group. “I’ve been hiding something,” she says.

Let me guess, she isn’t human? She hired a ghostwriter? She hasn’t typed one alphabet but instead fibbed to make herself feel better?

As if sensing my skepticism, she plops a copy of her manuscript onto the table and then retrieves a small, plastic bag from her purse.

Are those…poppy seeds? No, poppy seeds are smaller. And darker.

“Okay, I know certain things improve brain function, and that’s why we drink  tea and  meet twice a month and share our thoughts. But these babies,” she continues, grabbing a handful of the seeds and dropping them into a cup, “are like…bees to flowers, bubbles to baths, syrup to waffles. This is brain food!”

Within minutes of sipping from a teacup, she’s reciting passages of Spoon River Anthology.

“Amazing!” Richard says.

“I’ve retained four plays, three anthologies, every word of Ethan Frome and created my draft in two weeks—all with the help of these Z seeds.”

Suddenly, I’m reminded of a time I came home sporting a nose ring and red hair. Ma took one look and admonished, “If the entire class jumped off a bridge, would you do it, too?”

Would I?  Am I seriously considering Sheila’s claim?

I imagine four to five completed novels a year, a new car, a full-tank of gas instead of the fumes I’ve driven on the majority of the day. Surely similar thoughts are running through the other’s mind.

Would you be silly enough to do it, too?

And so it begins…

*

Shonte Sanders aka Whatevertheyaint

1/27/17

* I didn’t follow the premise to a fault, but I did keep the basics as far as setting and characters. The original prompt calls for a man in his thirties, a folding table in a huge parking lot, an electric kettle, a teapot and teacups, and five women approaching. Feel free to continue to add to this piece by sharing (300 words or less) in the comments section. Ready? Let’s Go! Have fun 🙂

Posted in drafts/jewelsintherough, Writer's Prompts, Writing

From the Prompt: The Beautiful Voice

THE PREMISEREAD HERE  Thanks WritersDigest and Brian A. Klems for the weekly inspiration.

My Take on the Prompt:

555-555-5555

If those digits were people, she’d have poked out several eyes with the fury of her index finger.

“Seriously, you don’t have to press that hard,” her sister said, peering over her shoulder.

“It’s the principle, Bianca. I didn’t create this bill. Besides, why would I order two cases of Moroccan oil from an infomercial?”

Soft rock from an era long before all night television and identity theft floated across the line as Connie’s blood pressure rose. “As soon as they answer this phone, I’m going to—“

“Manes Incorporated.” A deep voice cut through her rant.

For the second time in a week she stated her complaint; however, there was something about this guy’s voice Continue reading “From the Prompt: The Beautiful Voice”

Posted in Writer's Prompts, Writing and all its cousins

Tell It To The Hourglass

TELL IT TO THE HOURGLASS

Look, your sand is working its way toward the bottom a little too fast.

What happened to the hours in the hour-glass?

There’s a glitch somewhere. I swear it is.

There’s barely time to sleep and wake up again.

Did I even get four hours of shut-eye last night?

Moon said tell it to you; I said alright.

The sand heads to the bottom and I can’t compete.

Before I’ve poured the coffee and scribbled things to complete,

you’ve up and jumped to evening and then midnight arrives,

and I’ve hardly worked my way to number five.

I swear there’s some cheating. Who’s your boss?

I want to discuss this. And mark my to-do list off!

“God” you say?

Oh, well, never mind.

I didn’t know your superior was the Father of Time!

Please forgive me.  I was a little brass.

By all means, carry on, Hourglass.

sms/4-2014

Posted in Writer's Prompts, Writing and all its cousins

From the Archive: Mail Order Man

*From the prompt: Write About Mail Order

 

 

Customer Service:  Make-A-Man. How may I help you?

Disgruntled Customer:  Uh, yes, I’m calling in reference to my order. I asked for Mr. Perfect, number 117, page 36 and, well, he ain’t so perfect.”

Customer Service: All of our men are 100% guaranteed. We don’t make mistakes here at Make-A-Man.

Disgruntled Customer:  Obviously you do because this guy is no different from any other. He leaves the toilet seat up, loses the cap to the toothpaste, and walks all over my freshly

mopped floor with his muddy boots!  If I wanted that type man I’d keep the one I have.

 

Customer Service: Misses…Gruntled, is it?  If you want Perfect Man you’ll have to talk to God. That line and species was discontinued after Adam.

Disgruntled Customer: Then why is it in the catalog!

Customer Service: If I recall correctly, page 36 says “Mr. Perfect,” which means near perfect; and Allen, the gentlemen you ordered, is as near perfection as it gets in 2013.

Disgruntled Customer:  Yeah, but that isn’t–

Customer Service:  He’s working in every other sense, right?

Disgruntled Customer: Yes. But…

 

Customer Service: As long as he is working and doesn’t run off without notice, or harm you physically, there is nothing we can do.

Disgruntled Customer: No refund?

Customer Service: I’m afraid not. If you had read the fine print you would have seen our no return policy.

 

 

sms/2011

Posted in Writer's Prompts, Writing and all its cousins

Power To the Powder

So, I was playing around yesterday afternoon and came across a prompt/challenge from the Nanoers over on FB. The idea was to take a snack and give it a story.

He wasn’t like the other donuts. He was plain—no glaze, no chocolate, just round and ordinary. But today was the day.  He’d been watching the baker for weeks.  Today was the day he’d sneak in and have an affair with the powder!

Would she go for him?  He wasn’t sure, with her being so sweet and all. Plus, she was white and, well, he was a little on the brown side.  But together they could do great things.

sms/2013

Posted in Writer's Prompts, Your Turn

Snippets & Prompts

We are lost.  Very lost.  Because dad doesn’t believe in GPS devices or road maps.  It has been this way since my childhood. In fact, I recall one summer afternoon in which we circled around a Holiday Inn for hours because daddy couldn’t figure out the exit and refused to pull over and ask for directions.

So, anyway, we’re in the middle of god-knows-where, and all I can think of is that movie; you know, the one with the crazy, flesh-eating family. What is it called? Chainsaw Massacre?

I bite my nails as the sun goes down over an open field and wonder how in the world Dad plans to get us out of this one.

*

sms/3-2013

Just playing around.  The prompt called for a voyage and deserted island.  However, I’ve used my creative license to come up with something else.  Now that I think about it, we should do A ROUND ROBIN!

Come on Ritx, Ike, Miss Elizabeth and fellow scribes. Let’s crank this baby up and come up with a short story.  

Ready? Set? Let’s do it!

Posted in Writer's Prompts, Your Turn

Prompt Tuesday: In Three Words

 

Life is…

Love is…

Happiness is…

We are…

And sometimes…

*

*

Here’s my stab at it:

Life is:  ironic, amazing, short

Love is:  an unsolved mystery

Happiness: depends upon moi

We are:  out of control

And sometimes: it all makes sense

😉

Have a great Tuesday, everyone.