Tag Archives: writing prompt

Writing Prompt: Memory

This is a writing prompt from Spiders Group from about a month ago. I just stumbled over the file I saved it in and thought I would share. I guess the “she” in this story is me, because this is how I feel whenever I leave Sydney and travel back to visit my parent’s property in Queensland.

 

 

The smell of hot dirt and eucalypts scented the wind, the din of cicadas drumming their drums filled the air. A shadow of a storm haunted the horizon, heralding a welcome end to a hot summer day.

She thought back to a summer long ago, when she had last walked down this meandering, dusty track. She’d had such expectations of the path ahead of her.

She had forgotten how vivid and alive the Australian bush could be, how many shades of grey and brown could herald life. She inhaled deeply, drawing astringent, savoury oxygen into her starved lungs. How clean the air was out here. No smog, no odours, no scents associated with man. Just the scent of eucalypts, dry dust and sweet grass. It was Life, in all its glory. Of course, most people wouldn’t have seen it that way. They didn’t really understand the land. They didn’t understand that verdant green grass was rare, and it was all the more beautiful for it. They didn’t understand how many browns, greens, yellows and greys could make up one dry husk of grass. They didn’t see the beauty in a waving sea of dried grass blades, or understand how the feel of hot dust under one’s bare feet could be so invigorating. She thought back to the dirty streets and faded buildings she had left behind her in the city, took a deep breath of air, and sighed in relief. She was home.

Writing Prompt: Light

Elle at my writing group gives us 100 word flashfic prompts. This week’s was light. I wrote others, but here is one. I was playing with dialogue, because it is my most hated part of storytelling. I try to get the cadences sounding realistic, but sometimes they sound contrived.

 

The light faded from his eyes, his smiled died.

“What do you mean, dead?”

“Dead means dead, man! Look it up in a dictionary!”

His shoulders slumped as he remembered Maxxie’s zest for life.

“But, but, she can’t be! When did this happen?”

“About five years. She died of a heart attack or something”

His brows rose in surprise.

“But I just saw her last week!”

“Blonde, in her fifties?”

“That is her.”

“Couldn’t have been her. I was at her bloody funeral. Maxxie Granger? Do you have the right woman?”

He squeezes his eyes shut.

“Yes… Yes, I do.”

Writing Prompt: Modern Fairy Tales (Part II)

The latest Spiders Group prompt from Elle is “modern fairy tales” – once again, of just 100 words. I wrote a modern Little Red Ridding Hood and decided to reinterpret others. I am having fun with the 100 word constraints, as I usually blather on like a fool.

MFT: II

A retelling of Snow White

The music pulsed around me like a living creature, the beat sent loving shockwaves through my body. Bliss. Pure bliss. My body undulated, moving with the crowd flowing around me.

Margaret came back with our drinks. “I picked up some goodies from some guy”, she proffered a green and a red capsule in her wrinkled palm. “I know you like red sweetie, you can have that one”

She smiled sinisterly as we swallowed our fun with a swig of vodka.

The music took me over again, and swallowed by a sea of bodies, I sagged into the arms of a handsome stranger.

Writing Prompt: Modern Fairy Tales (Part I)

The latest Spiders Group prompt from Elle is “modern fairy tales” – once again, of just 100 words. I wrote this and then wanted to take on some other fairy tales. I am having fun with the 100 word constraints, as I usually blather on like a fool.

MFT: I

A retelling of Little Red Ridding Hood

My scarlet high heels click-clack on the road, legs pumping in time to the beat of my heart. Buildings rise up around me, closing in, impenetrable in their shadows. My crimson hair streams in the wind rushing past me. I run for my life, for my sanity. I can hear him as he jogs behind me, his workman’s boots slamming the bitumen, the scent of sawdust and sweat seeking me out. I turn a corner, fumble with my keys and fling open my door. Just in time; he curses. Rushing from the kitchen, Wulf tugs me into his safe embrace.

Writing Prompt: Greece

Elle, who runs the writing group I attend gave us a writing prompt and a quest to write exactly 100 words on it. This is what I came up with.

Modern > Myth

She sings at night on a street corner, her teeth flashing, her curls writhing, bathed in moonlight. They come, lured by the soul in her songs. She can no longer call them to her with enchantments. She remembers a time, millennia ago, when she held the seas in her throe, sailors hers to command, to toy with, to kill. She grieves at time’s passing.

The siren nudges her busker’s cap and winces at the sound of the few lonely coins jostling together. Looking at what she has become, sitting on a dirty street, she wonders, “Where did the magic go?”