Prompt: Create a story, poem or any other piece based on this metaphor: a plate of fear
Source: creativewritingprompts.com
Response:
She swallowed, feeling the bareness of her throat, the vulnerability, above the dress’ open neckline. She stiffened, feeling the presence of the servants around her, fluttering by like ghostly shadows. When she saw them their faces were silent, stoic. Their eyes were glazed and glassy – they seemed to look right past her to the platters and goblets and silver. They did not make a noise, floating about the room.
She looked down at the immaculate lace tablecloth in front of her, trying to avoid looking at the man seated at the other end of the long, rectangular table. He was distant – obscured by glasses and elaborately decorative dishes – but she thought that he must be watching her.
She jumped as a servant’s sleeve touched her. She looked up; the man’s face was a blank white mask. He did not show that he had noticed her at all – it was as if he was setting an empty table. Embarrassed, she looked down to the dish he had placed before her. Her skin prickled as she looked at the wide, shallow bowl. It contained a heavy, red soup; it reminded her of blood, a thought that made her sick. It was a plate full of fear.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Hein
Prompt: This is a tale about debauchery. The story is about an awkward archdruid.
Source: Modified from seventhsanctum.com
Response:
Hein tugged self-consciously at his long robes, trying to straighten his appearance before he entered the council room and began be scrutinized by the druid council. His new robes - the heavy, intricately woven, but coarse, neutrally colored robes of an archdruid - weighed down his shoulders making him feel as though he was slouching even while standing upright. He had known the council was looking to promote a student to archdruid, but he had never known that he was being considered. It never would have occurred to him to wonder if he would be considered; Hein knew the council was full of sick, corrupted druids, most of them at least twice his age. He had known that - everyone did - but he had not known that they wanted a puppet.
The door to the council room was closed, but its carved wooden design allowed him to see into the room. He could smell the wine from the hallway. Hein took in a deep breath, bracing himself, determined to remain impartial and separated from the council's corruption. He could not be bought.
Hein pushed open the decorated door to take his place on the druid council.
Source: Modified from seventhsanctum.com
Response:
Hein tugged self-consciously at his long robes, trying to straighten his appearance before he entered the council room and began be scrutinized by the druid council. His new robes - the heavy, intricately woven, but coarse, neutrally colored robes of an archdruid - weighed down his shoulders making him feel as though he was slouching even while standing upright. He had known the council was looking to promote a student to archdruid, but he had never known that he was being considered. It never would have occurred to him to wonder if he would be considered; Hein knew the council was full of sick, corrupted druids, most of them at least twice his age. He had known that - everyone did - but he had not known that they wanted a puppet.
The door to the council room was closed, but its carved wooden design allowed him to see into the room. He could smell the wine from the hallway. Hein took in a deep breath, bracing himself, determined to remain impartial and separated from the council's corruption. He could not be bought.
Hein pushed open the decorated door to take his place on the druid council.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Diane
Prompt: Before I go to bed tonight, I'm going to...
Source: creativity-portal.com
Response:
Diane leaned back in her office chair, crossing her leather-sheathed ankles on the desk. She glared at the woman sitting across from her, wishing that she could burn a hole right through Vivian's red-rimmed glasses.
"I expect those articles on my desk by tomorrow morning."
Vivian arched a severely-plucked eyebrow in disdain, but she nodded. "Anything else I can do for you, director?"
"That will be all." Diane sighed as the irritating reporter left her office.
Her assistant, Jamison, walked in. "Trouble with Vivian?"
"None whatsoever," Diane lied. "What have you got for me?"
"Gale is on line three for you and the morning edition ready for you to look over."
"Heavens," Diane exhaled. "Before I go to bed tonight, I intend to eat my weight in chocolate and forget that Dewey freaking Gale ever existed."
Jamison smiled. "An evening to make the entire staff envious. But perhaps you should take his call first."
Diane smiled patronizingly at her assistant before picking up her phone. "Go get me some coffee, Jamie."
Source: creativity-portal.com
Response:
Diane leaned back in her office chair, crossing her leather-sheathed ankles on the desk. She glared at the woman sitting across from her, wishing that she could burn a hole right through Vivian's red-rimmed glasses.
"I expect those articles on my desk by tomorrow morning."
Vivian arched a severely-plucked eyebrow in disdain, but she nodded. "Anything else I can do for you, director?"
"That will be all." Diane sighed as the irritating reporter left her office.
Her assistant, Jamison, walked in. "Trouble with Vivian?"
"None whatsoever," Diane lied. "What have you got for me?"
"Gale is on line three for you and the morning edition ready for you to look over."
"Heavens," Diane exhaled. "Before I go to bed tonight, I intend to eat my weight in chocolate and forget that Dewey freaking Gale ever existed."
Jamison smiled. "An evening to make the entire staff envious. But perhaps you should take his call first."
Diane smiled patronizingly at her assistant before picking up her phone. "Go get me some coffee, Jamie."
Friday, December 3, 2010
Lissy
Prompt: Here’s a 90-second drill: List items you can find in an airport. When the 90 seconds are up, write a story that includes all of the words on your list. Set your story anywhere but near an airport.
Source: creativewritingprompts.com
Response: stairs, food, people, planes, metal detector, officer, kids, suitcase, bathroom, music, announcement, gift shop, information desk, carousel, laptop
She was sitting alone on the stairs, knees turned in tweaking the black and green stripes on her tall socks so that they zigzagged across her calves. Her hair had too much texture, like it needed to be washed, and her heavy eyeliner looked like it had been put on layer over layer without bothering to wash away the previous day's smudges.
Ayden had just come from work and he was sick of people. He had been sitting behind the information desk in the university library for nearly eight hours listening to people whine about not being able to find what they were looking for, directing visitors to the gift shop that really was just down the hall like the sign said, and telling students to stop - to stop playing their music so loud, to stop talking so noisily, to stop eating food by the library computers. Just before his shift was supposed to end a young married couple with three obnoxious, squirrelly kids had come in, leaving a trail of snot and fallen books in their wake. He had finally managed to get away when one of the demons had screamed for a bathroom, but he was almost forty minutes late. And to top it off, on his way through a campus check point, he had tried to carry his laptop through a metal detector and the on-duty officer acted like Ayden was a terrorist, making him even later.
He was exhausted and all he wanted to do was gripe and moan about his awful day, but Ayden knew he could not. He into the big hall and saw her sitting on the stairs, looking forlorn and abandoned and he knew there was no room for griping. He almost called out to her, but he doubted, given her unwashed, defensive, punk-rock appearance, that anyone called her "Lissy" anymore.
"Alyssa," he said, walking up to the bottom of the stairs.
She was up higher than most people sat - almost at the top of the first flight. She pretended that she had not seen him, like she wanted to pretend she had not been waiting on him and given up on him coming. "Took you long enough," she greeted, standing to walk down to him.
Ayden was struck by how very small she still was. He was eight years older and she had always seemed tiny, but she looked underfed and she seemed not to have grown an inch. She was tiny, swallowed up by a ratty black skirt and her lurid striped socks and a black jacket that looked like a circus tent hanging on a clothing rack.
"How was your flight?" he asked. It was a lame question, but he did not know what she was interested in anymore. He could not very well ask her about catching frogs to make into stew which was what their relationship had consisted of before she moved away.
"I hate planes," she said, lingering on the last stair as if holding on to an illusion of height. Ayden opened his mouth to ask another question, but she cut him off. "And before you ask, my dad is old and selfish and has high blood pressure, but he's fine."
Alyssa passed him. She walked with her hands deep in the gigantic jacket's pockets, stepping with an odd bounce which Ayden realized came from the black platform shoes she was wearing.
Walking out of the university side-by-side was like deja vu; they had done it so many times before. But at the same time it was a foreign experience; Ayden’s dad had always been in tow, trying to keep the two riotous children under control.
"So how long are you here for?" Ayden asked Alyssa's back.
She did not turn. "Until my dad ships me back to my mom again."
Ayden shut his mouth. He did not know the girl walking in front of him; this moody, matured-but-still-tiny Alyssa was a stranger. He felt uncomfortably overdressed and overachieving next to her - pursuing on his Bachelor's in Anthropology and working at the school's library and participating in service clubs. He wondered what year she was in high school - if her father could even force her to go to school.
He had looked forward to seeing her again with an eagerness that had surprised him, but with her standing in front of him he struck by a heavy sense of unfamiliarity. Ayden smiled at a girl who passed them - Crystal or Kristen or something. The campus was sluggish; it was too cold to spend a lot of time outdoors so most of the students had retreated to the university hang-outs - the library, the cafe, the classrooms of the nicest teachers.
They got to the edge of campus quickly, where the trees came right up to the road. Ayden wished that he had driven, but it was only a ten minute walk to his house and it had seemed like such a waste of gas. He had pictured walking close to the trees where they had used to play with Alyssa and talking companionably. It was painfully quiet between them.
Then Ayden heard it - the circus-y music floating to him. There was a park just inside the woods with a carousel, he remembered. When they were little he and Alyssa had begged to visit it every time they passed. He remembered how it seemed so big and seemed to spin so quickly; Alyssa had always hung off of her horse, standing in the stirrups and laughing into the wind.
The girl in front of him stopped suddenly and Ayden almost ran into her. She turned her head toward the music as though she had only just noticed it. Her eyes were green and faraway. She jumped, as if noticing she had stopped, as if ashamed of something, and began walking again, her steps short and precise.
Ayden stayed where he was for a moment. He could not see anything but the image of Alyssa's face, touched by the carousel music. Beneath her heavy makeup she had looked like Lissy. And she had smiled. Like she could not help it.
Notes: I forgot to put the source for the actual prompt yesterday: creativewritingprompts.com.
Source: creativewritingprompts.com
Response: stairs, food, people, planes, metal detector, officer, kids, suitcase, bathroom, music, announcement, gift shop, information desk, carousel, laptop
She was sitting alone on the stairs, knees turned in tweaking the black and green stripes on her tall socks so that they zigzagged across her calves. Her hair had too much texture, like it needed to be washed, and her heavy eyeliner looked like it had been put on layer over layer without bothering to wash away the previous day's smudges.
Ayden had just come from work and he was sick of people. He had been sitting behind the information desk in the university library for nearly eight hours listening to people whine about not being able to find what they were looking for, directing visitors to the gift shop that really was just down the hall like the sign said, and telling students to stop - to stop playing their music so loud, to stop talking so noisily, to stop eating food by the library computers. Just before his shift was supposed to end a young married couple with three obnoxious, squirrelly kids had come in, leaving a trail of snot and fallen books in their wake. He had finally managed to get away when one of the demons had screamed for a bathroom, but he was almost forty minutes late. And to top it off, on his way through a campus check point, he had tried to carry his laptop through a metal detector and the on-duty officer acted like Ayden was a terrorist, making him even later.
He was exhausted and all he wanted to do was gripe and moan about his awful day, but Ayden knew he could not. He into the big hall and saw her sitting on the stairs, looking forlorn and abandoned and he knew there was no room for griping. He almost called out to her, but he doubted, given her unwashed, defensive, punk-rock appearance, that anyone called her "Lissy" anymore.
"Alyssa," he said, walking up to the bottom of the stairs.
She was up higher than most people sat - almost at the top of the first flight. She pretended that she had not seen him, like she wanted to pretend she had not been waiting on him and given up on him coming. "Took you long enough," she greeted, standing to walk down to him.
Ayden was struck by how very small she still was. He was eight years older and she had always seemed tiny, but she looked underfed and she seemed not to have grown an inch. She was tiny, swallowed up by a ratty black skirt and her lurid striped socks and a black jacket that looked like a circus tent hanging on a clothing rack.
"How was your flight?" he asked. It was a lame question, but he did not know what she was interested in anymore. He could not very well ask her about catching frogs to make into stew which was what their relationship had consisted of before she moved away.
"I hate planes," she said, lingering on the last stair as if holding on to an illusion of height. Ayden opened his mouth to ask another question, but she cut him off. "And before you ask, my dad is old and selfish and has high blood pressure, but he's fine."
Alyssa passed him. She walked with her hands deep in the gigantic jacket's pockets, stepping with an odd bounce which Ayden realized came from the black platform shoes she was wearing.
Walking out of the university side-by-side was like deja vu; they had done it so many times before. But at the same time it was a foreign experience; Ayden’s dad had always been in tow, trying to keep the two riotous children under control.
"So how long are you here for?" Ayden asked Alyssa's back.
She did not turn. "Until my dad ships me back to my mom again."
Ayden shut his mouth. He did not know the girl walking in front of him; this moody, matured-but-still-tiny Alyssa was a stranger. He felt uncomfortably overdressed and overachieving next to her - pursuing on his Bachelor's in Anthropology and working at the school's library and participating in service clubs. He wondered what year she was in high school - if her father could even force her to go to school.
He had looked forward to seeing her again with an eagerness that had surprised him, but with her standing in front of him he struck by a heavy sense of unfamiliarity. Ayden smiled at a girl who passed them - Crystal or Kristen or something. The campus was sluggish; it was too cold to spend a lot of time outdoors so most of the students had retreated to the university hang-outs - the library, the cafe, the classrooms of the nicest teachers.
They got to the edge of campus quickly, where the trees came right up to the road. Ayden wished that he had driven, but it was only a ten minute walk to his house and it had seemed like such a waste of gas. He had pictured walking close to the trees where they had used to play with Alyssa and talking companionably. It was painfully quiet between them.
Then Ayden heard it - the circus-y music floating to him. There was a park just inside the woods with a carousel, he remembered. When they were little he and Alyssa had begged to visit it every time they passed. He remembered how it seemed so big and seemed to spin so quickly; Alyssa had always hung off of her horse, standing in the stirrups and laughing into the wind.
The girl in front of him stopped suddenly and Ayden almost ran into her. She turned her head toward the music as though she had only just noticed it. Her eyes were green and faraway. She jumped, as if noticing she had stopped, as if ashamed of something, and began walking again, her steps short and precise.
Ayden stayed where he was for a moment. He could not see anything but the image of Alyssa's face, touched by the carousel music. Beneath her heavy makeup she had looked like Lissy. And she had smiled. Like she could not help it.
Notes: I forgot to put the source for the actual prompt yesterday: creativewritingprompts.com.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
The Streets of Carnival
Prompt: Open a magazine and a newspaper and find a picture of a person. Then write a 300-500 word profile of the person.
Source:
http://imagecache6.allposters.com/LRG/28/2813/SXXOD00Z.jpg(Not positive that this came from a magazine, but . . .)
Response:
She pulled the borrowed cloak a little closer to her body - her clothing was anything but period and if anyone else saw it her cover would be blown. The mask was a little big and the perfectly curled, newly died blond hair was uncomfortable, but she tried not to let it show. She was a slightly older than most of the people she passed on the street, but she knew she was pretty and when she offered them a small smile they seemed satisfied. She thought back, reviewing her assignment in her mind. It would not take very long to slip through the crowd of masked teenagers in Edwardian garb and get to the quaint antique shop on the next street. The place was sure to be crowded – its array of torture implements from past ages always drew a large group of admirers at Carnival – and the vast majority of people would be half-intoxicated; no one would notice her, no one would see her collect the object. It would be a simple task – in and out in only a few minutes. It was almost irritatingly simple. Her assignments seemed to have been not only diminished, but decreasing in importance and difficulty over the last few months. She almost did not mind – the lighter work load gave her more time to pursue her own interests – but she worried why her master would be giving her less and less responsibility. As though he was fading her out. She shook her head, trying to clear it. The curls that brushed her face still smelled of dye. It might be a simple job, she reminded herself, but every object had its protectors – some more capable than others. The shop was crawling with teenagers and she smiled. There was nothing to worry about.
Source:
http://imagecache6.allposters.com/LRG/28/2813/SXXOD00Z.jpg(Not positive that this came from a magazine, but . . .)
Response:
She pulled the borrowed cloak a little closer to her body - her clothing was anything but period and if anyone else saw it her cover would be blown. The mask was a little big and the perfectly curled, newly died blond hair was uncomfortable, but she tried not to let it show. She was a slightly older than most of the people she passed on the street, but she knew she was pretty and when she offered them a small smile they seemed satisfied. She thought back, reviewing her assignment in her mind. It would not take very long to slip through the crowd of masked teenagers in Edwardian garb and get to the quaint antique shop on the next street. The place was sure to be crowded – its array of torture implements from past ages always drew a large group of admirers at Carnival – and the vast majority of people would be half-intoxicated; no one would notice her, no one would see her collect the object. It would be a simple task – in and out in only a few minutes. It was almost irritatingly simple. Her assignments seemed to have been not only diminished, but decreasing in importance and difficulty over the last few months. She almost did not mind – the lighter work load gave her more time to pursue her own interests – but she worried why her master would be giving her less and less responsibility. As though he was fading her out. She shook her head, trying to clear it. The curls that brushed her face still smelled of dye. It might be a simple job, she reminded herself, but every object had its protectors – some more capable than others. The shop was crawling with teenagers and she smiled. There was nothing to worry about.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
December 1, 2010 - The Aquarium Room
Prompt: Is it dangerous to . . .?
Source: The tallest guy in my math class
Response:
He glanced at the two figures beyond the aquarium partition. Tiny blue fish sent shimmers over the silhouettes in the next room. "Isn't it, you know, a little dangerous to leave them alone together?"
Fatima smiled at him. She shook out her hair, admiring the way the light from inside the giant aquarium played with his bone structure. She could not for the life of her remember his name.
She leaned in, touching his arm. "They'll be fine, I'm sure. They're responsible adults."
He raised his eyebrows. "You told me Tanner threatened to kill Ethan. That sounds responsible to you?"
Fatima gave a slight, apologetic smile. She had forgotten about letting that tidbit slip. "They're big boys, they can handle being in the same room."
He turned away from her, looking through the aquarium again. The water was too misty to see the boys clearly. Fatima tried to win his attention back, but after a while she stopped trying.
The party had wound down; she picked up a few cups to throw away. When she walked back into the aquarium room the boys were still there back behind the glowing fish. Fatima sighed. Hadn't they caused her enough trouble?
She walked in, "Ok, boys, break it up. Time to go h -" and stopped. The plastic cups dropped to the floor.
Notes: I'm back! And officially eight minutes late - not a great way to start December, I know, but I may have made up for it in the fact that this month's weather forecast has already been posted to the blog. Be sure to check it out!
Source: The tallest guy in my math class
Response:
He glanced at the two figures beyond the aquarium partition. Tiny blue fish sent shimmers over the silhouettes in the next room. "Isn't it, you know, a little dangerous to leave them alone together?"
Fatima smiled at him. She shook out her hair, admiring the way the light from inside the giant aquarium played with his bone structure. She could not for the life of her remember his name.
She leaned in, touching his arm. "They'll be fine, I'm sure. They're responsible adults."
He raised his eyebrows. "You told me Tanner threatened to kill Ethan. That sounds responsible to you?"
Fatima gave a slight, apologetic smile. She had forgotten about letting that tidbit slip. "They're big boys, they can handle being in the same room."
He turned away from her, looking through the aquarium again. The water was too misty to see the boys clearly. Fatima tried to win his attention back, but after a while she stopped trying.
The party had wound down; she picked up a few cups to throw away. When she walked back into the aquarium room the boys were still there back behind the glowing fish. Fatima sighed. Hadn't they caused her enough trouble?
She walked in, "Ok, boys, break it up. Time to go h -" and stopped. The plastic cups dropped to the floor.
Notes: I'm back! And officially eight minutes late - not a great way to start December, I know, but I may have made up for it in the fact that this month's weather forecast has already been posted to the blog. Be sure to check it out!
December Weather Forecast
December 1 – Is it dangerous to . . . ?
December 2 – Open a magazine and a newspaper and find a picture of a person. Then write a 300-500 word profile of the person.
December 3 – Here’s a 90-second drill: List items you can find in an airport. When the 90 seconds are up, write a story that includes all of the words on your list. Set your story anywhere but near an airport.
December 4 - Before I go to bed tonight, I'm going to...
December 5 – This is a tale about debauchery. The story is about an awkward arch-druid.
December 6 – Create a story, poem or any other piece based on this metaphor: a plate of fear
December 7 – Write about the relationship between two brothers
December 8 - This is a tale about xenophobia. The story is about a duchess who fears non-human beings. The effect of magic on technology is a major part of the story.
December 9 – Write about a god of sunlight who takes the form of an older man.
December 10 – Use all these words in a story or poem: preacher, coin, stairwell, comb.
December 11 – Write about a group of people dressed entirely in red.
December 12 – Finals Week: Write the last line of a story about an animal-like character.
December 13 – Finals Week: Write the last paragraph of a story about two characters who do not speak the same language
December 14 – Finals Week: Write the last line of a story set in a sultan’s palace
December 15 – Finals Week: Write the last three lines of a story with a bittersweet ending
December 16 – Finals Week: Write an alternate ending for a well-known story
December 17 – Finals Week: Write the last line of a story about an abnormally tall character
December 18 – Finals Week: Write the final scene of a story about unrequited love
December 19 – The educated, rebellious male half-Chimera with a knack for trouble. His non-human ancestry gives him a horribly inhuman appearance.
December 20 - The story must involve a spear in the beginning.
December 21 - Describe a routine or holiday ritual, using the 2nd person “you”.
December 22 – Start an original story with this title: The House without a Window
December 23 – Silken, sad uncertain
December 24 -
December 25 – The door to somewhere
December 26 – Character: Blaise Finney
December 27 – Sane mage
December 28 – Create a story with all achetypal characters (examples: the young hero, the damsel in distress, the benign old woman, etc)
December 29 – Use the name of a famous literary character (examples: Helen, Ishmael, Elizabeth Bennet) for one of your own characters.
December 30 – Write about two tarot cards
December 31 – Write about a man with strangely colored eyes
December 2 – Open a magazine and a newspaper and find a picture of a person. Then write a 300-500 word profile of the person.
December 3 – Here’s a 90-second drill: List items you can find in an airport. When the 90 seconds are up, write a story that includes all of the words on your list. Set your story anywhere but near an airport.
December 4 - Before I go to bed tonight, I'm going to...
December 5 – This is a tale about debauchery. The story is about an awkward arch-druid.
December 6 – Create a story, poem or any other piece based on this metaphor: a plate of fear
December 7 – Write about the relationship between two brothers
December 8 - This is a tale about xenophobia. The story is about a duchess who fears non-human beings. The effect of magic on technology is a major part of the story.
December 9 – Write about a god of sunlight who takes the form of an older man.
December 10 – Use all these words in a story or poem: preacher, coin, stairwell, comb.
December 11 – Write about a group of people dressed entirely in red.
December 12 – Finals Week: Write the last line of a story about an animal-like character.
December 13 – Finals Week: Write the last paragraph of a story about two characters who do not speak the same language
December 14 – Finals Week: Write the last line of a story set in a sultan’s palace
December 15 – Finals Week: Write the last three lines of a story with a bittersweet ending
December 16 – Finals Week: Write an alternate ending for a well-known story
December 17 – Finals Week: Write the last line of a story about an abnormally tall character
December 18 – Finals Week: Write the final scene of a story about unrequited love
December 19 – The educated, rebellious male half-Chimera with a knack for trouble. His non-human ancestry gives him a horribly inhuman appearance.
December 20 - The story must involve a spear in the beginning.
December 21 - Describe a routine or holiday ritual, using the 2nd person “you”.
December 22 – Start an original story with this title: The House without a Window
December 23 – Silken, sad uncertain
December 24 -
December 25 – The door to somewhere
December 26 – Character: Blaise Finney
December 27 – Sane mage
December 28 – Create a story with all achetypal characters (examples: the young hero, the damsel in distress, the benign old woman, etc)
December 29 – Use the name of a famous literary character (examples: Helen, Ishmael, Elizabeth Bennet) for one of your own characters.
December 30 – Write about two tarot cards
December 31 – Write about a man with strangely colored eyes
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