Writing Prompt Response: Out My Window

A box of concrete with two windows and a door is the place I’ve been hiding out.

Beyond the windows, the air is cool and crisp.  Green hills, with trees fading into autumn rest a gentle distance away.

Clouds are coming in, shading the world in gray.  it’s a beautiful sight, so inviting- enticing me to play… and yet I never leave.

Somewhere in the forest, all the Fae folk reside.  They’re having feasts and fellowship, dancing from dusk to dawn.

And yet for some reason, I remain alone.  Watching  Nature’s divine romance set the trees aflame from the window of my concrete hollow.

Perhaps I will join them tonight.  Embrace Freedom from this cave.

Depression is a fight, causing one to miss out on the beauties all around us.  Beyond the window of my concrete box are all the things I long to have, and none that I can touch.

Perhaps one day things will be right.  At least for now the window is open.  I can watch and enjoy the breeze.  The fresh cool air flourishing my spirits, and giving my heart new life.

Perspective: A Writing Prompt Response

A womans viewpoint:

Sheniah spun once round, falling backwards over the arm of the couch.

Her heart was content.  Warm.  Filled blissfully with hope.

Allowing herself to remain in the moments of elation, she rested her arm on her brow, watching the ceiling fan spin round and round.  The clack clack of the motor and dancing of the pull cords drawing her imagination to replay her date over and over.

His broad smile drew his eyes into crescents as he laughed gaily at the joke she shared.

“Asks the magician what he did with the boat.”  Mitch recapped the punchline, “that’s too funny.”

Sheniah rubbed her arm, feeling the familiar tingle of too much sun warming her skin.  “We should start back.”

“Sure.  Do you know what else you’d like to do?”  Mitch asked, slipping his hands into the pockets of his khaki cargo shorts.

She bit her lip, “I don’t know, I probably should head home.”  Not that she had anything to do at home, but she hated making decisions that might cause someone else to change previous plans.  In this way, she thought perhaps she was being considerate of Mitch.

“Are you sure?  We could go bowling, see a movie, rent a canoe…”

“Those sound like a great deal of fun, but neither of us are dressed to canoe, neither of us have socks, and I can’t think of anything I want to see.”

“A woman as eager as yourself to shoot down three marvelous ideas with such reasonable excuses, must have plans for the evening to be leaving a man, such as myself, utterly bored with naught but video games to entertain myself.”  He used hand motions as he spoke.

Sheniah smiled watching him.  She was in love with everything about him.  One day, hopefully he’d be just as in love with her.  Maybe.  They truly seemed made for each other.

Clearly having chosen to go home was the wrong decision. Laundry and a stack of bills greeted her as she entered her home from the garage.

Sheniah began lightly bouncing her foot in rhythm to the fan, “You silly woman.  Bowling or something.” she chided, eying the basket of laundry on her kitchen table.

And now she would be bored and lonely the rest of the afternoon.  At least her imagination could coax out things to pass the time before she went to work that night.

Sheniah smiled, happy to know he might be thinking of her too.
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A mans viewpoint


Mitch loved the way she smiled.  Her smile made his heart skip.  Sheniah was funny, intelligent, sharp witted.  And her figure was pretty great too.  Nicely rounded hips, perfect for carrying children one day.  Almond shaped eyes that widened when she was paying absolute attention.  That one lock of brown hair that always fell forward, no matter how many times she gently brushed it behind her ear.

Whenever she was with him, he loved to hold her hand.  It was soft and delicate in his grasp.

She was gentle, with a full heart and extensive mind.  He loved how she was passionate when she spoke about things that excited her.

Mitch admitted he was disappointed she couldn’t spend the rest of the afternoon with her.  Nevertheless, he had a campaign to run, and his gaming buddies would be starting their mission in less than an hour.  Perhaps they’d get to go bowling or canoeing another time.

Grabbing a snack, Mitch turned on the gaming consol and relaxed his hands around the controller, making sure his headset was plugged in and ready to go.

Writing Prompt Response

Writing prompt: In 500 words, There’s an island where all lost things end up.  Today, you wake up, cold and wet, on the beach of that island.

I always knew something was wrong with me. From the moment I started to cry as a baby, to the moment I laid down to sleep last night.
The voices of my parents never quite matched the rumblings of murmurs I had heard in my nine months of watery incubation. Between being born, and going to the hospital nursery, I had somehow ended up with the wrong family.
I’d been lost my entire childhood. I was lost during the trying adolescent years when I started to realize I looked nothing like my brothers.
Some people say it was “adoption”, irregardless, I call it lost.
Especially when I opened my eyes an hour ago to find myself in a place cluttered in lonely socks and other miscellanious items.
All your life, you wonder where mismatched socks, bobby pins, hair ties, buttons, shoes, slippers, and family pets end up. Well, wonder no more – they still exist, stranded on a surreal island in the middle of nowhere.
After blinking several times, relentlessly pinching my arm, and roughly smacking myself across the face once or twice, I decided to spend my time a bit more productively and find out where the heck I was, and if I was the only one here.
“Have you seen Joe?” I heard a voice ask.
“Shelley? Shelley where did you go?” Another cried from somewhere behind me.
It was certainly an odd sight, the endless piles of things scattered about everywhere.
A dog ran past my legs, bumping into me as he went. He was shaggy and gray, with a floppy ear hanging down, and the other perked, listening. Barking this way and that as he threw his head side to side, looking for something.
I knew a great deal about what that was like. The anxious pounding of the heart, as you plow through a crowd of people trying to find something—
The voices caught my attention again as someone else called out for Frank.
Curiosity piqued, I hurried in the direction of the voice.
For being an island of lost things, you will immediately understand the irony which ensued, as I /never/ found the sources which belonged to the voices I heard.
I pursued them until I felt my sanity begin to drain from me. The oddest part of all was the magical sort of “poof” sound that happened right after their cries cheered up.
Cheered up. That was the best way to put it. Almost as though they had been found again, and no longer needed to be here.
Some people try to “find” love, others try to “find” God. In a way, everyone feels just as lost as I do. At least, in one way or another. Unfortunately, I had never known the cheer I’ve just described to you. Nobody has ever made me as happy as the voices that have come and gone in the last two hours.
I wonder how people end up here anyway. In fact, as I stand on this strange island now, I still want to know how on earth *I* got here….. I wasn’t /really/ lost, I was just trying to get from 52nd street to Broadway, and stopped to ask for directions.

Wanton Forms of Regret

Love. What is love?

Is it the senseless feeling you have for someone?

Is it the unrequited resolve to stay with one individual person?

She held her glass of wine feeling the tears longing to burst behind her eyes.

Setting her glass on the counter, she tucked her knees up to her chest fighting the urge to cry, replaying the scenario in her mind again and again.

Everything in that moment was bright and colorful. A dream she didn’t get to experience.

She wore a long, beautiful white dress. Her long hair adorning her head as though it were a crown spilling with curls. The long tulle veil was pinned under her hair with a silver comb, falling down her back like rushing water, tiny white flowers tucked into it.

She stood at the edge of a stage waiting for the game to be announced.

He was across the room, wearing a beautiful black suit with a white shirt and silver tie. He laughed brightly, the joy of the day shining off of his face and in his eyes.

He stopped laughing, but the mirth of the moment stayed on his face in a large smile showing off his teeth.

She met eyes, winked and then stood up on a chair with her bouquet in her hands.

Luscious red roses were elegantly arranged with sprays of baby’s breath, little blue flowers and blue ribbon that flowed out of it.

The crowd of eager young women clustered together heightened the cheer, as she faced away from them. She held her breath while the leader of the band counted to three, and then she flung the bouquet behind her.

A rush and screams broke out behind her.  She giggled softly, turning to see who had caught it.

It was a girl she had met, but didn’t know very well. She was a friend of her husbands.

Husband.

The word made her warm inside.  She caught eyes with him.

He watched her intensely, his heart bursting forth through his shining eyes.

That was all she had ever wanted to see.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as the daydream faded into reality again.

That moment had never been hers. And she wanted it so desperately.

From the shining, bursting forth of love in a man she knew beyond a shadow of doubt cared for her, to the scramble of single friends awaiting her bouquet.

The image was so vivid, and so real.  It only added to the trauma of her breaking heart.

Faith picked up her wine glass again. After another swig, she set the glass heavily down and half-ran to the sofa, throwing herself into the arm, hugging a pillow into her chest as she began to sob.

Writing Prompt Response

This is my response to the monthly writing prompt in a group I am apart of, and help admin, called Den Of Quills.
Den of Quills can be found online in three different locations!
Website: http://www.denofquills.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/denofquilla/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/denofquills

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Prompt: Write an indefinite amount of words to form either a scene or story that includes the following sentence: “I don’t know you. I don’t want to know you. And I want to forget you exist!”

As they waited in awkward silence for the train to arrive, Felicia wasn’t sure what to think anymore.
It had been a beautiful summer, until last week. Last week had changed the tides completely in their relationship. It would never be the same. She knew it. She knew it with everything in her.
Turning to Dax, Felicia’s eyes glossed over with tears, “Will this be the final goodbye?”
Dax’s jaw was firm, he shifted it a few times as though the moment were difficult for him as well.
While the train pulled into the station, steam catching on the bottom of her skirt and gently swirling it for a moment, Felicia felt her heart break for the third time in a week.
Passengers unloaded and reloaded, as they remained silent.
Boarding Felicia, Dax was sullen, stern even.
As he passed her the last piece of luggage, he set his jaw again.
Her heart raced, knowing this was the end.
Firmly, without missing a beat, Dax said, “I don’t know you. I don’t want to know you, and I want to forget you exist.” With that, he turned abruptly, and walked swiftly away.
Felicia felt her hand draw to her mouth in response to her disbelief.
As she silently cried, before the whimpers were able to escape her throat, she realized just how severe one little lie could be.

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Den of Quills is currently in line for publishing our first Anthology project called, Den Of Thieves, as well as beginning our next Anthology project.  Several new Authors will be featured for the first time in this book!  Promotions and information on our projects to come!

Case Of The Monday’s

The Lands of G'desh

It’s Monday again.  This regular occurring day of the week, after a weekend that didn’t let you catch up like you had wanted to, makes people everywhere irritable.

So, here’s what you’re going to do:
Your protagonist wakes up after having a couple of days off, and is thrown back into the mundane.  And today, in particular, he/she hates it.  Really put them in a particularly bad mood.

I hope you’re having a better day than they are!  And if not, use the exercise to vent your frustrations.

Post a link to us in the comments!

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Prompt XIV

The Lands of G'desh

The super bowl came and went, and only a handful of people are excited about their teams win, while the rest of the nation continues to mourn their teams’ losses.

Your character has been looking forward to something for a really long time, (it could be a tournament, a once in a life time concert, or show, a trip around the world…..) really engage in the anticipation. The day comes and they enjoy the event- but now they have nothing to look forward to anymore.
What are they going to do now that everything they looked forward to is over?

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