Writing Prompt: Day 151

Day 151 Writing Prompt PictureDay 151 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about a character who can’t wake up from a dream.

Erin: I knew the real world could not be so cruel when I saw the elephant sized clown. I decided then and there to wake up. I didn’t though. I had many times in the past, but my real eyes would not open. Wake up I screamed, but that only startled the clown into chasing me. I decided if I could not wake up I would change the story. I tried to shrink the clown in my mind, but he just kept getting bigger. All I could do was run, so I did. It was starting to look like my only way out was to die. For whatever strange reason that scared me, even with the knowledge of my dreaming state.

Shannon: I snuck down the wooden staircase, trying to find the cause of the loud noise. About halfway down I realized I was dreaming as black branches crawled up the steps and tangled my feet like snakes. They moved up to cover my entire body. Within seconds my vision went dark and I could tell I was being dragged. I tried to open my eyes to wake up, but they were locked shut. I couldn’t move anything. I was paralyzed and I couldn’t feel my soft bed underneath me. I felt weightless. When I finally opened my eyes I was looking at a clear sky above some trees until an old woman appeared in my line of vision. By the frightening smile on her face, I knew I was still dreaming.

Write about a never ending dream.

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Writing Prompt: Day 150

150.jpgDay 150 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: A character finds beauty in something most would consider ugly.

Shannon: I have always had this thing for insects. I know most girls run away in terror at the sight of one, but me I’m always the weirdo who sticks around to take a closer look. The way I see it, most people get excited over puppies and kittens, but I see the same adorable qualities in bugs. They are mini living creatures, somehow surviving in a world that wasn’t built for their success, what’s not to admire about that kind of resilience?

Erin: I knew Buddy was a good choice the day I saw him. He was on his last leg at the shelter, because he wasn’t a stereotypical cute dog.  He had one eye permanently closed. His mouth came up in a little scowl. He was the most beautiful soul though and that I knew. He was the happiest dog when he greeted people and the sweetest snuggler when I was upset. Whatever emotion people needed he emitted and that made him the most gorgeous dog I could picture. `

Beauty is in the eye of your character.

Writing Prompt: Day 149

149.jpgDay 149 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Include the words cellar, whisk, and beggar.

Erin: There is a reason I refuse to go into the cellar. When I was a kid the beggar from downtown had found his way into the storm window and camped out in the corner. When I was playing hide-and-seek, I found him while I was running around looking for my brother. I was immediately terrified. He wasn’t looking to harm anyone, just looking for warmth, but since then I was terrified of finding something even more unsettling. So, when I was forced to clean out my parent’s wine cellar it was time for me to break my fear. I did, and the only unexpected thing I found was a whisk my mother must have forgot in the midst of cooking and grabbing a bottle. Replacing my old memory with one of remembrance of my mother’s nature helped me move on and for that I was grateful.

Shannon: “I need your help right away. You can set your stuff in the bedroom next to wine cellar. If I find even one bottle missing from those shelves I’ll kick you back out on the streets and you’ll be a beggar again. I’ll make sure you never find another job in this town. I don’t take you as the type to bite the hand that feds you, but I’ve been wronged before,” the older women explained as she directed me to the dark stairs. When I waited at the top she got a little impatient, “What’s wrong, what are you waiting for?”

“It’s dark,” I twitched. “Is there a light somewhere?”

She reached for the switch by the doorway. “Are you afraid of the dark,” she questioned.

I nodded, looking down, relaxed by the illumination.

“There is a switch near the door in every room. Do you think you’ll be ok, or do you want me show you?”

I tried to hold back my head from jerking, but I knew I looked uncomfortable. “No I’ll be fine,” I was telling the truth.

“Good, there is a shower down next to your bed room. Once you get cleaned up and changed into the uniform I gave you, come up here and I’ll teach you how to use a dough whisk. Move as quick as you can. The bread has to be ready by tomorrow morning,” she patted my back. I was happy she understood my movements. She seemed to know I couldn’t control them, and they weren’t a reflection of my feelings. It usually took people a lot longer to gain even a slight understanding of my disease.

Three words of your story is already done.

Writing Prompt: Day 148

148.jpgDay 148 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Make a story focusing on temperature. 

Shannon: It’s so hot. We need to find a place to cool down,” I begged my roommate.

“I’ll go get the fan,” she explained, as she jumped up. The heat hadn’t hit her yet.

“Fine, but we need to get out of here and find some AC, or a pool, or preferably a walk-in freezer,” I joked.

“Actually I do have access to a walk-in freezer,” she smiled deviously as she looked back at me.

Erin: I don’t know why I was being punished, just that I was. My body could not handle heat. That’s why I was so cold all the time. The only problem with that was I never attracted other cold people. I always attracted the warmers. Little did they know they were killing me. I was losing hope until the one day I met my ice queen.

Connect us with the hot and/or cold elements of your story.

Writing Prompt: Day 147

147.jpgDay 147 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about something a character wants to preserve.

Erin: I’d spent weeks perfecting my friend’s cake. “Time yet,” she asked referring to eating my masterpiece.

“Do you realize how long it took to perfect every detail of your childhood home. Let’s admire it just a little longer,” I suggested.

“It’s beautiful but honey I am so beyond ready to taste your yummy creation.”

“Okay,” I gestured for her to do the damage.

“Yay,” she cheered cracking into the roof and my heart.

“Yay,” I mimicked watching her take the first bite. My heart sank more when her face went sour. When I stole her cake, and tested it for myself I realized the reason. The cake had also gone sour.

Shannon: I keep a collection of old newspaper articles in a clear sheet protector I placed in a decorative box where it sits in my closet. They all contain information of a tragic accident where almost an entire family was wiped out in a house fire. The only one who survived was a little girl without a single burn on her body.

That little girl was me, and I don’t remember much about that day. I have short flashbacks of my family, but nothing clear enough to latch onto. There are days now that I’m older where I wish I had one lasting scar to hold onto instead of faded pieces of paper and the few photos people could donate to me. I wanted something of my own to connect me to the people I carried with me everyday.

Help your character preserve through putting their wish in writing.

Writing Prompt: Day 146

146.jpgDay 146 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about someone who takes on a new identity.

Shannon: New assignment:

Scarlett Collins

Engaged to Preston Yates. About to become a very wealthy housewife…

When I first red the description I knew it was a stretch, especially for me. I understood the purpose, and if I could pull it off and gain some trust I could get some valuable information from the other wives. It would be the perfect ploy, but looking at myself adorned in jewelry and ridiculously expensive clothing I definitely wasn’t buying it.

I tried to study, but how was I ever going to keep up after years of lacking in privilege department. Plus, how was I going to relearn how to care what people thought of me again. That ship had sailed long ago, and I was happy to send it off. As of right now, as soon as they saw through my inexperience, my only backup plan was to get one of them to take me under their wing. I was told most of them would gladly take role, considering the act charity work on their part. Not to mention the more people they could keep under their thumb, the better.

Erin: “No,” I grabbed the stylist’s wrist.

“Hey I could have cut you,” he yelled.

“You’re trying to cut me. My hair at least.”

“That is why you are here Jon.”

“My name is Lee,” I jerk reacted.

“It’s Jon,” he yelled back.

“Yes, I am sorry. Cut away,” a tear dropped from my eye as the last bit of my identity started floating to the floor in pieces.

Write about a character who changes into a different character.

Writing Prompt: Day 145

145.jpgDay 145 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about someone who gets stuck in a situation without money.

Erin: “Oh no,” I smacked all of my pockets seven times before finally giving up.

“What,” my friend asked.

“I don’t know where my wallet is,” I felt my heart flutter.

“Of course, you did,” he griped.

“Not on purpose,” I argued.

“Yeah right.”

“Screw you. I’m going to go look for it.” I was fuming and determined to prove a point.

Shannon:  “Pay now, or you’re getting off the light rail at the next stop,” the man was stern.

“Please I’m just trying to get back to my hotel. Someone stole my bag and I don’t have anything right now. I don’t how to get back any other way. Please,” I begged genuinely. I felt naked without any lifelines on hand.

“You don’t think I’ve heard that one before,” he shook his head just as we stopped moving. “Out you go,” he directed me to the door.

“I’m not lying,” I reiterated before I took another step, wanting it to be the last thing he heard.

“You’re not the only one who needs a free ride,” he shoved my back coldly, causing me stumble out.

I headed over to the map with a goal to figure out where I was, and how far I needed to go. My journey wasn’t within walking distance, so I was going to have to get creative, or maybe find a kind stranger.

Money is not everything, but it is something, and your character does not have it.

Writing Prompt: Day 144

144.jpgDay 144 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Start your story with, “The courtship ritual was long and strict. Many would also say disturbing.”

Shannon: The courtship ritual was long and strict. Many would also say disturbing. The process started with the couple creating a fire together, as if they were competing to prove they were capable of survival with only the tools nature could provide them. Family and friends would watch as they struggled with the first step for hours on end. Sadly giving up wasn’t an opportunity to come back later and try again when they were ready. It was giving up on the relationship forever. Their partnership wasn’t mean to be as far as the community was concerned.

Either way it always ended in a dramatic finale with the couple either getting unwillingly torn apart, or they’d moved on to the next step in the process: branding.

Erin: The courtship ritual was long and strict. Many would also say disturbing. The men were entered into a pit at random. They had no choice of which one nor if they wanted to participate. The prize woman watched from above, not able to hear any of the conversations. She witnessed the interaction of the 30 suiters. Every three days she eliminated one man based on the number tattooed on their back. They were allowed to try to woo the woman in the sky by any way they saw fit.

The first elimination was sent to the most “undesirable” bachelorette. The farther in the competition a man got, the more impressive the score of the woman’s pit he would be sent to. There were some men who got stuck in the final pit for lifetimes, until a self-sacrificing bachelorette would pick them so they could die in peace.

Write twisted romances.

Writing Prompt: Day 143

143.jpgDay 143 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Let Jordin Spark’s “One Step at a Time” inspire you.

Erin: $60,000 dollars later and I was so close. It didn’t feel that way though. I felt like I was behind bullet proof glass with a paintball gun. I could see the future I invested so much into, but couldn’t get there. The harder I tried the more I lost sight of the hope. I was at the point where only a sliver of glass was visible. I couldn’t give up though. I had already given my all for four years and I would continue to until someone gave me a chance to prove myself.

Shannon: “It’s not ready yet, but bring me a new draft next week.”

“Seriously,” I cringed, balling my fists. I was sure I had it this time. “Bu…But,” I stuttered. “This may be the best thing I’ve ever written, and you’re not even going to tell me what’s wrong with it?” I tried not to yell at my agent for holding the process up. She always strove for greatness. She never let anyone fall short of their best.

“You’re at the point where you don’t need me to tell you anymore. You show me what you want to change now that your deadline has been extended,” she slid draft back across the table.

“I don’t want to change anything,” I pushed it back. “I want to let it go. I could nitpick it forever, but I’ve given it enough time.”

She pressed her lips together and stared me down. I thought I might have convinced her, but I could see her wheels turning. “I know you have more in you. Don’t rush this. Remember, this is the fun part. Embrace it one last time, and I will pass it along. You’ll regret it if you don’t take my advice. I got you this far, you still trust me don’t you?”

I breathed out, “Yeaaah,” I dragged out the word as I reclaimed my manuscript. “I just hate that your one step at a time approach is genius and frustrating at the same time. You better be right,” I pointed at her as I got up to head out and get started.

“I can’t remember the last time I was wrong,” she called out and I heard her giggle to herself.

One more day of you making progress, what is your story today?