Writing Prompt Wednesday - Legacy

Welcome to Writing Prompt Wednesday! I’ve been having so much fun with these first sentences, that I kept going with that. This one comes from here.

The prompt is: After she’d told me it was “high time” I knew my family legacy, my grandmother turned, pulled the box from the closet and handed it to me.

~~~

After she’d told me it was “high time” I knew my family legacy, my grandmother turned, pulled the box from the closet and handed it to me. I stared at the box for a moment, taking in the whorls in it’s grain and the well worn look of it.

“What in here?” I asked, looked back at her.

“Open it and find out.”

I bit my lip and hesitated. What if what was in the box changed everything I knew about myself? Who was I kidding, I knew it would.

Shaking my head, I slowly opened the lid of the box. In side sat a number of black and white pictures and a jeweled dagger. Frowning I pulled out the pictures and looked at them.

They were images of various people, all close in their late teens or early twenties, but who must be close my my grandmother’s age now. Both women and men stood together, some with arms slung around each other and smiling, others standing a little apart. Blinking, I realized I recognized two of the people in this photo. It was my grandmother and my grandfather, holding hands and beaming at the camera.

Looking at another one, I found yet another group shot, this one set some forty or fifty years later. This time, I quickly found my mother and father in the group, though they weren’t together. In fact, they stood on opposite sides of the picture. This struck me as strange, since they’d been nearly inseparable before they died a few years before.

Every single person in the pictures had one of the jeweled daggers.

Frowning, I looked up at my grandmother. “Who are these people? Why do they have the daggers?”

“Those pictures show the Order of the Dagger,” she replied, “Everyone in our family has been a member since its inception 200 years ago. I met your grandfather through them. Your mother and father also met thanks to the order.”

“But what does the Order do?” I asked, trying to get my head around what she was telling me.

“We are charged with protecting the world from dangerous magics and magical creatures.” She was completely serious.

I stared at her, not quite believing her, but then something clicked together in my head. Voice quivering, I asked, “Mom and Dad didn’t die in a car crash, did they?”

My grandmother looked at me for several long moments. “No Hattie. They didn’t.”

~~~

Well that was fun. I have a feeling this prompt could spawn something fun. Hopefully I get to develop it further some day.

Tell me what you think about it down in the comments.

Come back Friday for 30 Things.

Until then.

Writing Prompt Wednesday: Footprints

Welcome to Writing Prompt Wednesday. I decided to do a first sentence prompt again (I like those). This time it came from this website.

Here’s the sentence:
The footprints in the snow suddenly ended.

~~~

The footprints in the snow suddenly ended. I’d been tracking them for fifteen minutes and now they’d disappeared. Swallowing, I glanced around. Snow was coming down fast in heavy wet flakes that stuck to everything, but even they couldn’t cover up footprints this fast. My prey had simply vanished.

Taking a deep breath, I looked up and around at the trees towering over me. The woods were silent, the snow muffling everything in a crisp white blanket. If the person I was tracking was an air mage, then I was royally screwed, since they had discovered that I was tracking them and decided to either fly away or jump and hide themselves so they could ambush me.

Just as I was thinking this, a pile of snow thumped onto the ground to my right a moment before a large heavy body collided with mine, sending us toppling into the snows in a flurry of white.

Years of training took over and I repositioned myself as I fell so could send my attacker sailing off of my thanks to our momentum. Once he - the guttural grunt I’d heard as he tackled me told me was male - was clear, I flipped over and jumped to me feet, baring my hunting knife as I turned.

Whirling to face my attacker, I found myself staring into two of the palest blue eyes I’d ever seen. They were set in a slightly tanned face under wavy black hair belonging to a not unhandsome young man not much older than myself.

“Why are you tracking me?” he demanded.

“Why are you trespassing on my family’s land?” I replied.

“You’re family?” His eyes went wide. “You’re a Dameen?”

I just raised an eyebrow and waited. My family’s name had that sort of affect on people. I was used to it. I just had to wait for him to get to the point where he would answer my question.

~~~

Another fun one. I’ve noticed that these seem to be generating a lot of story ideas. That’s always a good thing. Maybe by the time I finish Alana and First Sight I’ll have a bunch of new ideas to work on.

What did you think of the prompt? Where do you think it was going? Tell me down in the comments.

Come back Friday for the next question in 30 Things.

Until then.

Writing Prompt Wednesday - Sudden Wealth

Welcome back to Writing Prompt Wednesday. This week, I decided to see about using a prompt from a random prompt generator I found online. You can find the generator here (http://writingexercises.co.uk/firstlinegenerator.php).

Prompt: She had found something that would mean she'd never be poor again - but there was a catch

~~~

She had found something that would mean she'd never be poor again - but there was a catch: if she used it, it could destroy the world.

It didn’t look like it could be the answer to all her hopes and dreams, or the greatest danger she’d ever encountered, but appearances could be deceiving. The box was small, unobtrusive. Plain wood and simple looking. BUt inside was the Gem of Alara. The single most powerful ,magical object in the known world. And she’d found it, in a box at an estate sale. Surely this was sign.

Glancing around, she checked to see if anyone had seen what she’d seen. None of the other browsers near her seemed to be aware of anything. Releasing a small sign of relief, she tucked the box into a stack of ancient-looking dish towels and headed toward the kitchen. She was a maid after all and no one would think twice at a maid going to the kitchen.

She’d just placed her hand on the handle of the door when a heavy hand landed on her shoulder. “I know what you found,” a deep male voice hissed near her ear, “I won’t say a word, but you have to help me get it out of here.”

She swallowed, and glanced up. Standing over her was man she didn’t recognize. Tlal with dark hair, he had the bearing of a lord but the clothing of a servant. “Who are you?” she hissed.

“Someone who wants to prevent that object falling into the wrong hands. And those wrong hands are here at this sale. I can get you out of here, but if you don’t come with me now, I won’t be able to protect you.”

She swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She looked up again and saw a frown cross the man’s face.

“Yes you do. I know you are aware of what’s in that box. I need you to let me have it so I can get it out of here.”

“Even if what you said was true,” she replied, “Why would I give you my best chance of making a living for myself.”

“Because if you don’t, that man over there will kill us, take the Gem and move on to destroy the rest of the world.”

~~~

Well that got really interesting. There might be a story there. I may have to keep this one for future projects.

I love when a writing prompt leads to the possibility of an actual story.

What’s the most interesting story you’ve gotten out of a writing prompt? Tell me about it in the comments below.

Friday we get more 30 Things.

Until then.

Writing Prompt Wednesday: Inappropriately Pink

Here is this week’s writing prompt. I used a First Sentence from the Writer’s Tool Box this week.

The sentence:
I was dressed in a completely inappropriate shade of pink.

~~~

I was dressed in a completely inappropriate shade of pink. It was truly the worst possible color I could be dressed in. It was the same shade as that bubblegum everyone chews when they are five and it gets stuck everywhere and you wind up having to get a terrible haircut because Suzy accidently put some in your hair.

Unfortunately, I had no control over this particular shade of pink, since it was the color my sister had decided she wanted her bridesmaids to wear. It would have been fine, if we were all five year old girls going to a princess party. But we weren’t. Instead, four 20-something women would have to stand up in front of 300 people in the ghastly shade of pink and there was absolutely nothing we could do about it.

I was still contemplating the trainwreck that was my dress when someone pounded on my door, saying “Are you decent?” two seconds before barging in.

“Marc!” I yelled, “I told you to wait for an answer!”

My best friend shrugged and started to say something but stopped when he caught sight of me in my full length mirror. “What are you wearing?” He asked, his brown eyes going wide.

“It’s for Sheri’s wedding,” I moaned, burying my face in my hands.

“What is she thinking?” The horror and amusement in his voice made me want to throw something at him.

“I don’t know. I’ve never understood why women insist on tormenting their bridesmaids with truly horrendous outfits. I swear, when I get married, my girls are getting drop dead gorgeous dresses.”

Marc snorted, so I picked up one of the soft stress balls sitting on my desk and chucked it at him. It just made him laugh as he easily ducked out of the way. “Shut up.” I told him, “And get out. I need to change. I wouldn’t want to get anything on this before the big day.”

This time he full on laughed, so I picked up three more stress balls and threw them at him in rapid succession. Only the third one hit. I’m not the best aim.

Finally Marc left, and I got started on climbing out of the terrible dress. Maybe I could convince Sheri to change her mind. Sure we’d already bought the dresses, but surely once she saw how terrible it looked on me, she’d listen to reason. Right?

~~~

This actually wound up drawing on a couple of characters I’ve had sitting around for a while but have never done anything serious with. It worked out a bit better than I thought and I wound up with a slightly more complete scene than usual. That’s cool at least.

Tell me what you thought down in the comments. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Okay. Friday is the next question in 30 Things.

Until then.

Writing Prompt Wednesday: Cracks, T-Shirt, Deck Chair

Here is this week’s writing prompt. I went with Sixth Sense Cards from the Writer’s Tool Box this week.

The cards:
A sidewalk with a crack
The smell of the t-shirt from a B-52’s concert
A lime green deck chair

---

I sit on the steps to my porch, staring at the crack in the sidewalk. It’s been there forever, since I was a little girl. I don’t even remember what made it. One day it wasn’t there and the next it was. It’s grown slowly over the years, like I have, changed as the seasons come and go. It almost reaches from one side of the path to the other, tiny tendril crack spiking off of it like veins from an artery. A dandelion has sprouted from one section, its green leaves covering up portions of the crack, hiding it from my view with the jagged edges. It’s bright yellow flower waves at me in the light wind, garish and haughty in it’s vibrancy.

That breeze carries with it a familiar scent, the smell of the t-shirt from a b-52s concert. I don’t even know why he likes that band or how he got it. BUt it’s the smell of him, strong with the musk of bodies and beer and smoke mixed together with his grapefruit shampoo. It’s what I smelled the day we first met and it’s what I smell now as he walks up that cracked sidewalk toward me.

“Hey?” He says, and I see the dark blue and the logo of that hauntingly familiar shirt.

“Hey.” I reply, not sure if I should smile or frown. The smile wins.

“Can I join you?” he asks. I nod, but instead of letting him sit on the tiny steps, I move and he follows. We settle into the lime green deck chairs that are tucked into the corner of the porch. My mom bought them at a flea market, since they are her favorite color. Seeing them always cheers me up.

“So…?” he asks, his finger rubbing the armrest of his chair. There’s a small patch on the chair where the paint has chipped and my mom hasn’t gotten around to fixing it. His finger moves to worry the edge between the lime green and the plain wood underneath and I’m fascinated watching it move back and forth.

Finally, I remember he asked me a question.

---

Yea, once more I really don’t know where it was going, but these exercises are fun.

Friday I’ll do my next question in the 30 Questions.

Until then.

Writing Prompt Wednesday: Exam Prep

So my next attempt to spice up this blog is posting weekly writing exercises I'll be doing this. These are based on prompts I found in the Writer's Tool Box. They'll be rough, generally unedited and probably won't make a lot of sense, but it might be fun to post them anyway. Who knows, maybe an actual story will end up developing out of them. Even if one doesn't, you can enjoy laughing at how I struggle to connect all the parts of the prompts I get.

This week's prompts are the following:

First Sentence: The only way John could pass the exam was by cheating.
Non sequitur: "If you don't take chances," said the man in striped pajamas, "you might as well not be alive."

Last Straw: the day her mother slapped her face

Here's what I came up with. Don't worry, I know it sucks.

---

The only way John could pass the exam was by cheating. That's what he told me when he showed up at my room Thursday night.

"There has to be another way," I told him, "We'll think of something." I can't lose you too, I didn't say.

We spent the whole night brainstorming and studying. I quizzed him, but there was too much material, too much at stake. Around 4am, I began to think that maybe John was right.

Sagging into the couch we shared, I dropped my face into my hands, a sense of defeat and dread pressing down on my shoulders.

"Cassie, don't worry," John said.

Just then, my brother Kyle ambled in wearing his trademarked pajamas. "If you don't take chances," said the man in striped pajamas, "you might as well not be alive."

I stared up at him for a few moments before I realized he was sleepwalking again. Sighing heavily, I stood and carefully guided him back to his bed. Once Kyle was taken care of, I returned to John.


"I can't help worrying," I told him, continuing our conversation from before, "You're the last friend I have in this trial. If you don't make it through this exam, I'll be alone." I can't lose you too. I left this unsaid again. John was already too stressed out.

He looked at me, brown eyes dark with concern. "Then I'll have to do whatever it takes to pass. Life and death are at stake after all." I swallowed, but didn't argue. He wasn't wrong.

Ordinarily I would never agree to helping him cheat. But everything had changed the day my mother had slapped my face and told me the truth about the trials. We had no choice but find a way to pass.
It was the only way to save everyone, including her.

John and I set back to work, this time coming up with the best way to sneak additional information in for him. I didn't need to worry about that. I was a ringer already. A eidetic memory will do that for you. Everything we'd read that long night was already lodged in my brain, irrevocably etched in my mind just like every other experience I'd ever had. John wasn't so lucky.

---

Okay. On Friday, I'll continue my 30 Things series.

Until then.