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Writing prompt

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Re: Writing prompt

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Eymber on Wed Sep 19, 2007 11:12 pm

bag and bed

The day was long and times were hard
He didn't want to run the last yard
Silent tears rolled down his cheek
He wanted so badly to end this week

Always thinking of himself, not others
Not even for his little brothers
Aaron slid stealthly into his room
Preparing for his silent doom.

He rolled his eyes, wishing he was dead
Without the constant mortal dread
Wasted time and wasted days
Locked within his mental maze.

He slipped the bag over his head
Wrapped tape 'round his neck and went to bed
Sleep forever, now he will
Spending eternity paying suicide's bill


new prompt... Malicious and panda
...Arise and be all that you dream....

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Re: Writing prompt

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby LitomoSilver on Fri Sep 21, 2007 12:59 pm

Night came and went.

Morning came, falling onto his face as he woke up slowly from Raz's bed. Those eyes of his slowly opened, looking up into the tiny cracks in the ceiling as he tilted his head slowly to the right. crrrrrack! A groan of pleasure came, as he heard the sound, and felt the bones release the tension from last night's sleep. Then he tilted his head to the left, doing the same for that side. crrrrrraccck! "Ahhh!"

Then he got up, shifting into a sitting position on the bed as he looked around the room again. The bag was sitting there next to the nightstand as he sat there. Who among us is next to fall? Who among us is next to fall to Death's call, and let go of their duties? Who among us will survive the longest? He hoped himself, but he did not make any assumptions. Technology hadn't gotten to that level...yet.

Slowly he stood up. Then he twisted his feet to the left and to the right one after the other. Crrrrraccck! Pop! Bock! Then he did the same for his hips and back, leaning back to do so. Pop! Pop! Crack! "Damn, the bed must've really been hard for that to happen..." Other than that, he made no comments as he picked up the bag, bringing the strap over his shoulder to let the strap rest across his chest and back while the bag itself rested against his hips, walking outside and locking the disappear into the mists of the fog that surrounded the apartment complex that he was briefly in.

Only to return to his own home...
A Fallen Warrior am I, as I lay upon my back, knowing as I raise my eyes to the skies, as I lose the battle of my life, that I will never see again...those that I love. Blood and tears flow gently down my face as I await the final judgment...knowing that I am forever free, yet forever damned as I close my eyes and release my breath for the final time...

Dovie'andi se tovya sagain....It's time to toss the dice...Mat Cauthon-Robert Jordan...Wheel of Time series

"How do you prove that you exist? Maybe we don't exist..." - Vivi

"Having sworn fealty, must I spend my life in servitude?" - Steiner

"To be forgotten is worse than death." - Freya

"The only dependable thing about the future is uncertainty." - Amarant.




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Re: Writing prompt

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby LitomoSilver on Sat Nov 24, 2007 1:08 am

Writing prompts seems to have died. I think we should revive it.

I will post one later, but right now, I have too much on my mind to post properly. Hopefully, I'll be able to start posting more writing prompts and in turn, have people begin writing prompts as well. I enjoyed writing them while Miyumi was here, and I think, I'd like to continue it for her sake.

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Re: Writing prompt

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby pixelgami on Mon Nov 26, 2007 11:25 pm

The next writing prompt should obviously be holiday themed, haha xD

Since Thanksgiving is over... um... I suggest using the words "tofurkey" (that's tofu turkey, to you) and "locavore" (I just got an email today telling me that it was the Oxford word of the year, meaning, and I quote:

'Locavore' is a word first introduced by Jessica Prentice from San Francisco Bay Area on the occasion of World Environment Day 2005 to describe and promote the practice of eating a diet consisting of food harvested from within an area most commonly bound by a 100 mile radius. "Localvore" is also used.

tofurkey and locavore

Chew on that!

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Re: Writing prompt

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby LitomoSilver on Wed Nov 28, 2007 8:20 pm

Hmm....that's a tough one, but I'll make a stab at it.

Man. These days people hyped the diet programs. It was something that was often seen on commercials. Or in advertisement in newspapers, magazine and rarely books. But it was spreading like a disease throughout the world. Or at least, it seemed so to the man that was sitting in the cafe, reading the newspapers, with an advertisement about tofurkey and the fact that it was a part of locavore. Locavore? What the hell is that?

It wouldn't be till he got home and pulled out the dictionary to find out what that word meant. Oh. Why use such a stupid word? Them and their love for big-sounding words. He shook his head and put it away and walked into the living room to take a seat upon the couch and watch some shows in the boob tube. It was showing the last few minutes of 24. Moments later, an advertisement of the same one from the newspaper showed up in the screen of the boob tube.

It showed the tofurkey and a man in a doctor's uniform, hyping it up and a beautiful, yet luscious woman standing besides him, about a few feet away in a black shirt that showed off the curves of her breasts, the slimness of her stomach, while her skirt seemed to stop just short of covering her bottom, revealing her large hips and small waist. The woman spoke of the tofurkey. "This is a perfect locavore, and it was what helped me slim down!" and continued on hyping it up. It seems they like using sexy women these days. I wonder if that brown-haired woman was paid to be there and hype it up for them? It was a legitimate thought, for you never knew until it was too late whether or not such a diet worked.

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Re: Writing prompt

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby miyumi on Fri Dec 07, 2007 3:32 pm


Thank you guys for bringing this back. Ingrid, nice one! I shall be working on the one I posted, then on yours. Though, I need to keep it pg13 for mine, so I may have to do yours first... I keep getting an image of a girl in a bag being taken to a man's bed for unpleasant things from mine. And I know that's not what I had in mind when I made the post. Ah well. ooo... idea...

Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work I go.

Expect these to be posted by the end of Monday.

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Re: Writing prompt

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby miyumi on Mon Dec 10, 2007 6:01 pm

She woke to the sound of a car door being shut. 'No, please no..' This was a good home, and they seemed to have accepted her. Though only ten, she knew the value of a good home, having been in many bad ones since her mother died. There had even been talk of adoption. 'But they can't adopt me, that's why I'm being moved again. Maybe there's no doubt about my mother, but as long as there's a chance they find my father, they won't let me have another family.' She kept her tiny body prone, and lids shut tightly over her unusual eyes.

The man knocked on the door of the house. 'It's stupid, they shouldn't be moving her. There's been no complaints.' The door was answered by the childless couple who had been caring for Mai for the past three months. They saw his suit, his neatly combed mouse-brown hair, and his briefcase. The look on their faces went from "who would be knocking this early in the morning" to a startled realization. The man reflected anger, the woman dispair.

"No! Don't take her! Please!"

"You knew that she wasn't to be here permanently, and you know I can't change my orders." He pushed his way past them and into the home. 'Much as I wish I could,' he thought grimly.

"She's in bed, asleep."

"Then I'll have to wake her." His voice sounded cold, even to himself. He had been sent because all those who had contact with her in previous times refused to take her again. Having worked with this couple before, he kenw where they kept their fosterlings. He opened the door to the bedroom. Revealed in the early morning light was a child who looked about seven, eight at max, sleeping on her side with her face to the door. 'These kids even sleep with their back to the wall.' Her face was real pretty for a young girl, and he knew from her history others had taken advantage of that youthful beauty. He also knew that beneath the golden waves of her hair was a mind that held a survivor, who would fight for what was needed. Two steps took him to the bed, and he cautiously shook her shoulder.

"Mai, wake up." The girl's breathing didn't even change. "So you're faking it. That won't save you. Get up and pack." Pale lids opened to reveal two pools of violet. They stared at him, and it felt like those whiteless eyes were looking into his very soul. The anger on her face wasn't reflected at all in those eyes, which revealed only love. They blinked, and he wrenched his gaze away from them.

"We both know that whoever my father is, he has no intention of claiming me. Why take me now?"

"I have my orders. It's not my place to question them. Get up, get dressed, and pack."

He kept his place until she moved to get up, careful not to get lost in her eyes again. She started pulling clothes out, and wordlessly, he got a bag and started helping her pack. She kept a small pile that was obviously what she would wear to the side, and soon she left a large pile in the middle of the floor to go to the bathroom with the tiny one. 'She's actually got stuff to pack... they do love her.' Fifteen minutes later, the girl, one bag of clothes, and one bag of toys were cajoled and shoved into the car. Nothing could change the order to move once it had been given.

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Re: Writing prompt

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby miyumi on Mon Dec 10, 2007 10:23 pm

tofurkey, locavore

Twelve-year-old Mai was being moved again, just in time for Thanksgiving. 'Another holiday season to be spent with complete strangers... can't they at least leave me with the same family for a couple months before, all the way through?' Then again, she was expecting this ever since the family she was living with decided to take up the new fad, a locavore diet. Any diet that didn't have the state's seal of approval was suspect, so of course they would move her.

Her mind went back to the last holiday, when she'd found that out. She'd tried to get her placement changed because of the food, but they said that tofurkey for thanksgiving was within reason and no cause to change her back to the last place. But the home they were going to had a small scene on the outside. She looked at the man who had been working with her for the past two years.

"What is it this time?"
"Just time to move. I thought you'd like to spend the holidays with a family that goes all out for once."
"So you picked this?"
"Just the family."

She took a breath, and opened the door of the car. He got out, and the two of them walked up to the front door. There was a wreath. 'Ancient sign of welcome. I wonder if they mean it?' He knocked, and the door opened. There was an elderly couple with gray hair and kind eyes. Both were obviously as fit as they could be, and definitely over 60, if not older. Both had warm smiles. The social worker spoke first.

"Mai, this is Mr and Mrs Greece, and you'll be staying with them until just after Valentine's day." She looked at him with questions in her violet eyes. "I'll leave you to get acquainted with them." She knew what that meant, it was up to them to tell her. It was the woman who spoke first, directing her question towards the man.

"Arthur, you sure we should take Mai?"
"I think all of you will be better for it."
"But she's..."
"She's a young girl who's not had a proper range of holidays all at once, exactly where you come in."

The woman nodded, and the two stepped back. "I'm Mandy, and my husband is Harold. You may call us as you feel most comfortable. If you have any nicknames..." Mai shook her head.

The man spoke then. "Then welcome to our home Mai."

She stepped inside, and made her way directly to the couch, not allowing herself to look at the rest of the house. People like these used the living room for discussions. Arthur couldn't leave until she herself moved the baggage from his car.

"Why? Why am I sure that I'm moving out when I am?" They came in and sat opposite her, and traded looks.

"Each year, Arthur chooses for us a foster child who he feels would benefit from a stay with us. We don't have much extra money coming in, so we save up all year to give this child as good a holiday as we can manage. He's never stepped wrong."

"Then why doubt me?" Again, the two traded looks.

"Does that matter? We've had doubts before, always proved worthless."

"You really want me to stay here?" They both nodded. "You promise it will be as long as he said?" They nodded again. She went back out to the car, and pulled out her smallest bag, taking that in. She stopped inside the door, and looked around for real. It was a small home, barely bigger than most three bedroom apartments. There was a cornicopia on the table, but that was the only decoration inside.

They showed her to her room, on the second floor next to the stairs, with the bathroom directly between her room and theirs. There was a small bed with sheets that had a simple geometric pattern. The room was obviously for a child of either gender, and the only amusements in evidence were the pile of lego boxes on one side, and the tall shelf with many types of books on the other. She looked at them curiously.

"We never know who it will be until you get here, and Arthur knows to bring any toys needed beyond legos and books."

She nodded. None others would be needed, by the look of how many legos there were.

"Tomorrow, we'll take you to any store you choose. You'll have twenty dollars there."

She lowered her eyes, but she was smiling. "Thank you." 'Their love is real. I will like it here.'

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Re: Writing prompt

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby miyumi on Wed Aug 27, 2008 11:21 am

New prompt (it's been awhile, hasn't it...):

home and run

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Re: Writing prompt

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Nyxeth on Fri Feb 06, 2009 11:27 am

Run(ning) Home(less)

The concept of home was lost upon this small child as she rummaged through the dumpsters at the back of the take away at the middle of the night, her hands closing around a meaty scrap amidst the garbage, savouring her find, she scurried off into the darkened maze of routes and alleys of the city, her eyes glancing over openings as she went, prostitutes, drug addicts and worse, these were the people she knew in her life as she moved from area to area, avoiding the flashing lights of the police who often come to clean up the place, those siren's, the whirring noises that portended omens of a night without sleep. Continuing along as her bare feet patted quietly at the hard floor, mud splashing and as the moonlight shone down and reflected from a puddle, she couldn't help but stop.

Gazing down at her murky reflection within the water, she raised her free hand to run through her ragged, unkempt hair, fingering a long strand behind her ear as she gave a crooked smile, forgetting her meal of the night as it dropped to the floor, caught up within her own reflection which she had not seen for such a long time, her revery broken only by the trudge of boot in the mud, looking up and whincing as a flash light shone into her eyes brightly, her eyes catching a metallic glint of a policeman's badge upon his jacket.

The badge that only meant one word to her, run.

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Re: Writing prompt

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Hughes on Thu Jan 07, 2010 3:18 am

Well, if it's a dead thread, then probably should be un stickified.

Anyways, I've seen something like this on another board and I had a hell of a time with it! I was planning on posting something like that here, glad I found this first!!

May I put out a new prompt?

Damn, that's one big fish!!!!

Lol if no one answers this, I'll have to start posting responses to my own prompts. Which i will do. Don't kid yourself.

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Re: Writing prompt

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby on Thu Jan 07, 2010 10:08 am

[[If it's still okay to be filling out prompts on such an old thread..]]
"Damn, that's one big fish!"

There was something inherently irritating about just sitting back and waiting for the line to snag. I made a prompt note of this as I tugged the cowboy hat down over my eyes, reclining uncomfortably against the musty wood surface of the tiny dinghy that I lay in the bilge of. Secure against the sun, I peered out from beneath the shield of the hat, only to be blinded by the shine of the long, sleek fishing rod reflecting sheer light into my eyes. Squinting, I darted my head down again.

Certainly there are people who find something very appealing about fishing. Perhaps it is the easygoing nature of the sport, with only an occasional adrenaline rush- perhaps a metaphor for the way the practitioners wished they lived their lives. Perhaps it is the philosophy of fishing- all one has to do is sit back and wait and sooner or later (typically later) their lack of work will harvest itself in the form of a catch.

With this in mind, I decided that fishing must have been the laziest sport in existence.

At about the time I made that decision, however, a large hand smacked onto my shoulder, causing me to jump out of my reverie and glower up at the owner. "You have fishbait on your hands," I snapped.

Gazing up at Carlos, it occurred to me that there may be one more reason why one may practice fishing- the reason why I did it, namely: because the practitioner may just unfortunately happen to have a friend who found some incredible appeal in sitting back in the middle of the afternoon sun in the middle of a lake and waiting for a fish to be stupid enough to bite that bait.

The idiot of an older man grinned down at me. (Here I decided that idiot wasn't semantically correct- all personality flaws aside, and considering his barely-evident yet prolific expertise in physics, Carlos was more of an idiot savant.) "Ya just gotta be patient, kid," he remarked in his low, peasantlike growl of a voice, as if he'd just read my mind. "Dinner comes when it comes."

My eyes narrowed and I recrossed my arms, blatantly aware of how the merciless surface of the wooden dinghy dug uncomfortably into my back. "Dinner will come when it's dinner time," I retorted, tapping my pale hands against my arms. One never got enough sunlight in college, and the pinkish hue my flesh was beginning to take under the sun was just proving it.

And, as if to contradict me, my pole bent at an angle an inexperienced fisher may have thought completely impossible, making a high arch and straining against the weight my legs had pressed against it. I sat up, feeling the fresh impression of the dinghy against my back, and wrapped my hands around the pole, yanking gently. Even as the thrill of a catch caught me, I couldn't help but feel a little sullen at whatever fish this may have been, contradicting me like it was.

Carlos's rough laughter filled my ears as I yanked again, grunting with effort. "Damn, that must be one big fish," he commented with an amused tone as he watched me struggle. Finally, the middle-aged man decided to make some use of himself and took the rod from my grasp, easing in the fish in his own experienced, perfected technique as he stood in the dinghy with impeccable balance. I watched his silhouette, squinting at the midday sun glaring down heat upon us just behind him, and listened to the trashing noise of the the catch.

I wasn't completely expecting it when a two-foot long thrashing fish was tossed out of the water by the rod and smacked headlong into my face, and when the slapping collision happened I made an embarrassing outcry before falling backwards into the bilge, fish and all. Cursing, I wrapped my arms around the slipping, flailing creature, rolling onto my stomach and pinning the squirming, strong frame beneath me, getting thoroughly wet in the process.

"Imbecilic fish," I snarled angrily, but when I looked up all I could see was the silhouette of Carlos, rocking the dinghy back and forth in his own laughter.

It was here, wet and pinning a squirming, slimy fish to the bottom of the dinghy as it rocked back and forth to the rhythm of a retired physicist's laugher, that I sulkily decided that while fishing may have not been a lazy sport, it was one where you risked getting slapped in the face by a few pounds of flapping fish.

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Re: Writing prompt

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby nomannic on Tue Jun 14, 2011 4:41 am

1. She may suck at stealth, but man, she's vicious in a fight.
2. God, you look hot in that uniform.
3. Where are your pants?
4. It's a whole new definition of numbnuts.
5. Please, please, please with a pretty wittle gumdrop on top?

That's all I've got at the moment.
"You can beat me, you can kick me, you can spread my blood all over the pretty white floor. But you can never break what isn't yours. I belong to my Lord."

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