Writing Prompt: Day 3

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Day 3 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write a story inspired by these three pictures.

Shannon: “You must be Leo,” I spoke up from the tree I was leaning on as soon as I caught sight of the new face. He looked like a lost puppy, carrying his suitcase and bags. He looked to me a little surprised, but didn’t say a word as he started walking in my direction. “I’m Faye,” I stood up to introduce myself.

He shook my hand as he looked into my eyes, “Nice to meet you.” I got little distracted by how his iris were almost as dark as his pupils, when there was a sharp pain on my palm.

“Ow,” we both pulled our hands away and I examined mine to see that it was red and rough as if I’d touched something hot.

“I’m sorry. I thought I could prove that I could control my power, and get out of here. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he looked down, preparing for my backlash.

“It’s okay. I get it, but I’m not the one you should be trying to impress. I was banished here too.”

“Earth is our home, not this place. They can’t really make us stay here, can they?”

“They’ve deemed our powers are dangerous, and we can’t control them. They could do much worse to us than this. Come on I’ll show you where to put you’re things,” I waved him to follow.

He sighed, but listened, “So what makes you dangerous?”

I turned around, “How about I show you?” He agreed with a smirk, and we headed to my room.

I opened the door to the familiar sound of violin music and laughter that transformed into a swarm of live inanimate objects greeting us hello. Leo jumped back, “What the…”

“Who is this,” the floor mat questioned.

“A new reject.”

“A new friend,” my chess pieces cheered.

“You make things come to life,” he looked at me, confused.

I nodded, “Only inanimate objects, and it doesn’t work on fabric.”

“Why is that so dangerous?”

“Armies of objects that can’t die. It was a little too intimidating for the council.”

“Why would anyone do that? And how can they assume these objects have the potential to be evil?” He seemed more upset about my placement than his own. He put his hands out to let a group of pawns jump into his palms. They began gossiping about his looks before complaining about the heat. “Sorry,” he quickly handed them to me.

“I’m sure they told you. It’s not about how you can stop it, but about how they can stop you. If they can’t successfully cage the power on Earth, we end up here.”

Erin: I finally found my way on my new planet. The purple air started to taste blue, or maybe even tasted better than blue. My body seemed to walk, but walking was more like floating there, and I had come to like floating far better than walking. Pompee was filled with tickles and once I started to befriend the Zorks, getting stuck there didn’t seem like such a bad fate. Even being the designated “transferrer” at work, because of my size, didn’t seem like such an insult.

The little Zorks filled the pudding cups and slid them down the line to be lidded. Then I would transfer to packing and the train would fly them to the markets. Work was fun with how sound came through the air particles in Pompee. The injecting machine chimed, when the cups slid they whistled, and the tape guns snapped. Her coworkers could keep a good beat. “Wal mantana keyote,” Tasseray’s hair shot to the ceiling as he yelled.

All of the Zorks started chanting in unison initiating a crescendo that evolved into a holler. Once they were all shrilling with a consistent vibrato a human boy walked into the room. A person just like me, not a little, colorful, legless, armless… Zonk. My eyes were deceiving me, but if he was real I could be happy in Pompee, and I could be happy with him. The shrilling faded and slowed. His hair was silver, my favorite color. He walked toward me. He wafted his sugar scent in my direction. I tried to blink away my mirage and on the third attempt I succeeded.

I was back on stage and back on earth. I dropped my bow and violin to my side as our conductor smiled at us. I along with the other humans bowed for the crowd. No one seemed suspicious. They must have thought I never left, but the homesickness burning a hole in my side would beg to differ. My need to get back to the silver haired boy would beg to differ.

Three pictures for day three. Share your stories with us here or any of the other places we are, we’d love to here from you!

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2 thoughts on “Writing Prompt: Day 3

  1. Kate:
    The small shuttle docked with a wobbly, deep *ka-shunk* inside the ancient station. Having revolved slowly around a medium-sized planet for the better part of four centuries it was getting on in years. Through layers of decaying atmosphere the fossilized marble shone, basked in crystalline starlight. The shiny new spacecraft set down in the mouth of the tired metal monster; the veteran of this long-dead world meeting, at last, the amateur from a new land.
    Just as the senior station had waited for the young ship, his stewardess stood poised to welcome the disembarking passengers. Carefully creasing the starched fabric of her skirt and fixing a stray hair in her flawless bob she practised smiling for the window. As of late no one wanted to hear the fantastic tales of Earth, as the native species had called this planet long ago, so it was lonely. Noila, once the high stewardess of a vessel orbiting a black hole, who had once given speeches on the mining from asteroids that were trapped in the pull of the black hole, hated the stupid little rock she was currently flying around and the demeaning job that accompanied it.
    As the last few checks by the Gora8371 were completed the ship’s doors slid open on the dingy docking bay. Sparse lights flickered to life as the travellers descended the steps and clustered around their craft, glancing around worriedly. As the last one released the ladder it shot back into the belly of the beast and bleated like a sheep to signal it was locked.
    The group groaned in disgust as the tallest giggled with glee, ushering them towards the doors to the main station floor, “Whenever we visit other outposts,” she said to no one in particular, “I make the ship make sounds from that planet.” Hurrying in the lead of the group she made it to the door and waved the others in, “It’s wondrous fun.” When she smiled, Noila noticed, the expression touched every inch of her face.
    “M-miss Bell, I presume.” Noila stated sterilely. Quickly her eyes darted around at the others, “and these are your stu-dents.” Glancing down at her watch, as though she had nothing else to do, the stewardess strode away, forcing the class to sprint after she rounded a corner. “Keep up!” she barked, her voice echoing.
    When they finally caught up to her she was at one side of a monstrous round room, tapping her toe impatiently. In the center of the room, surrounded by glass cases with random objects one could only guess at, stood table likely fifty feet across. As the students clustered around, the ceiling opened up to reveal a spectacular view of the planet below. An auditory gasp rippled through the pack and everyone just gazed at the spectacle in awe. Noila huffed loudly before tapping a series of buttons on her watch that turned out the lights dramatically.
    “Welcome,” boomed a gentle male voice in the darkened room, “to Earth! Please turn all elec-phones & other modular devices off. Thank you. There will be information in many different forms and languages available for purchase after the show. Please be aware that quiz questions, which will be asked when this blue dot,” the room turned deep blue, “appears, must be answered correctly before the presentation will continue. Please also hold all questions until this red dot,” a red dot filled the entire room for a few seconds, “appears. Thank you & enjoy the show!” As his voice echoed through the station colours flashed around the room.
    “Earth, once the predominant birthplace of the species called humans,” a tiny humanoid appeared before us, followed by its family unit of four more humanoids. “Now human DNA can be found in up to 80,000 species across the galaxies.” The room suddenly darkened to blue, “Question number one! Is there human DNA in your species?” The students chattered amongst themselves, bored, before looking around.
    One student called out, unsure, “Yes?” and was rewarded with a hearty laugh from the host.
    “Yes! Good job! Your species does, in fact, have a sliver of human DNA.” The hue of the room faded gradually to a comfortable shade of pink. Far above, on the world below, a strange pattern of emerald and teal snaked its way across the surface. “That, travellers, is called the Aurora Borealis! It is a phenomenon quite common to this planet. Let’s simply enjoy its majesty for a few moments,” the host went silent and some horrible, human music began to play.
    Noila, who had snuck out of the room out of boredom, peered around to ensure the coast was clear before she sunk into an uncomfortable chair in the hall. Typing a few buttons into her watch she told it to put her brain in sleep mode for an hour. Almost immediately she began to feel drowsy and dropped off to sleep.

    Her eyes fluttered open to the booming drone of the host, who’d been dead for years, and Noila struggled to her feet. Groggily, she stretched and straightened her clothing before sauntering back into the observation room. The class was clustered around a large metal, plastic and glass box. Sighing she went to stand by the television to turn it on when the cue came.
    “-for hours a day at this little screen. They were like holograms of today. We have it cued up with one of my favorite shows; a violinist playing,” his voice made the woman on the screen sound like a marvel. Hitting a few keys Noila brought the screen to life, blinding the students with its harsh light. For ten minutes the musician played, followed by a short flutist and a banjo-player in a funny hat. While the students were entranced by this old style of music Noila longed to shut the whole thing down.
    With the last twangy note from the banjo Noila shut down the television set and hustled the class towards a large glass case near the exit. All over the shelves were strewn small, brightly coloured objects; some were round yellow faces with various expressions while others were like chelless pieces with hair. A small holoscreen was playing a silent film in the corner.
    Clearing his throat for effect, the host returned, “This, everyone, is our final stop of the day. These are called emojis. In the early twenty-first century on Earth the humans were too lazy to tell eachother how they felt so they designed these faces to explain to eachother what they were feeling.” Emojis danced around the room as the students attempted to understand the humans before the room turned blue, “Final question! What does this emoji mean?” A single round yellow face shone above their heads with smiling lips and creased eyes.
    “Happiness, of course,” said one of the students in a confident tone.
    “Good job! You all passed your Earthia-a-a-a” somewhere in the ship the recording began to skip. Noila swore under her breath before frantically pressing her watch. When she finally turned the sound off and put the lights back to order she completed his speech in her manliest tone, “You all passed your Earthian field trip. Con-gra-dulations! Please follow the stewardess back to your ship and have a great day.”
    She promptly turned and bolted back to the docking bay with the troop in hot pursuit. When they arrived Miss Bell shook her hand warmly and ushered the students back to the Gora8371, which now sounded like a glanga under threat. As soon as the ship was out of eyeshot Noila went back to reading her book.

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  2. Russell:
    January 3rd 3317 Earth Standard Time – Tranquility Station currently passing over the Pacific Desert
    The Opera amphitheatre’s grand curved windows gracefully shuttered open to reveal the blue and khaki marble of the Pacific Desert as the first tonal notes drifted from the orchestra bellow. Aunt Ann sunk back into her chair, her regal synthetic cougar pelt draped over her shoulders like some great prize of a hunt. Nervously, she twirled in her right hand an elegant and thin vapour stick. The Vaper Stick emblazoned with swirling copper gold patterns of nebulous clouds. She whispered to the choir down bellow. “Oh, where is my dear little Brenda?”
    The derelict husk of floated into view a couple hundred miles away. It’s jacketed mechanical arms and cylinders still as white as the day it was decommissioned. It was a sprawling, criss- crossing maze of tunnels and air locks.
    A somber violin emerged from the first of the ambient Chellos. It’s voice speaking with a soft melody. A sad melody. Every note lingering with a haunting ambiance as Brenda stepped center stage. A ballad of pianos spills in, elevating the single voice. Climbing. The sadness drips away, a quirky smile taking its place. Brenna’s entire body waved with the song. Her eyes closing as the violin and her seemingly molding together. A-BB-A-C-C-G, A-BB-A-C-C-G, A-BB-A-C-C-G. Switch. C-C-A-A, C-C-A-A, C-C-A-C. Switch.
    Aunt Ann breathed in the sounds as the ancient white planetary station drifted away.

    Brenda’s toy room was messy as usual. The latest batch of antics she had concocted was to arrange coloured tokens around a bustling town, amateurly drawn faces and tiny plastic wigs glued on with varying results. She arranged them in school bus waiting line as she started loading each one onto the brightly yellow recycled bus.
    “Brenda! Supper!” Her aunt’s voice called out from down the hall. Brenna looked back before returning to her toys. “Brenda!” Aunt’s voice tensed. “Come out, eat. We have recitals to go to!”
    Brenna sighed. “Ooh-kay.” She raced to put all the play pieces into the bus. “I’ll be a minute!” She clicked the roof of the bus back, driving it dangerously through packed streets of the city floor mat.
    “Brenda!” Aunt’s voice was a lot closer than before.
    Brenda called back. “I need to get my-”
    Aunt’s voice pitched. “I’m going to count to three and your having dinner.”
    “But-”
    “No buts.”
    Abandoning the bus mid intersection, she ran down the hall to the kitchen. Her mother rested on the couch with her blanket cocooned around her. Eyes softly shut.
    Brenda jumped onto the stool. Spinning, stopping, as she turned to face her locally grown lab eggs and ham. Aunt Ann with a tired face bleakly smiled. “You need to focus dear girl, you get too caught up with all your toys.”
    Brenda solemnly ate her food with her fork, listening with a quarter of attention. Aunt turned back to the fridge, opening the door and taking out a carton of water. Taking a plastic glass cup out from the cupboard, she poured some water and handed it to Brennda. “What is it dear?”
    Brenda looked back at her mom sleeping on the couch. Aunt Ann murmured. “A-aw…She’s just resting dear. The therapy takes out of you.” She started to walk down the hall way and to the front door. “Now kiss your mother goodbye before we go!”
    Brenda ate the last of her food before jumping off the stool. Walking over to her sleeping mom, she wrapped her small arms around. Feebly she hugged but her mother only faintly stirred. Her eyes flutter open. Her lips turned to a gentle smile. “I don’t want to leave you mom.” Brenda gloomily said.
    “It will be alright. She said. “Go to your recital Brenda, I love you.”
    Brenda held tighter on to her mom. “I love you too mom.” Pecking her mother’s cheeks with a kiss before running back down the hall, waving goodbye as she caught up with her aunt.

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