Writing Prompt | Taking The Leap

Hello!

Okay, I am doing something a little different today, but I’m pretty sure that everyone will like some part of it.

Back in late August, I went through the free Kindle books for story and general writing prompts. There was one book that I thought would help me generate a whole slew of ideas for the holidays. It is called Four Seasons Of Creative Writing by Bryan Cohen. I had plans to use one of the prompts about summer in September but I didn’t have enough time to get anything down so once I found this one I immediately got everything planned out in my head from the moment I read it and now that I’ve literally caught myself watching the leaves fall down our trees in our backyard, the more I have wanted to write about this prompt.

I based this story on Bill and Will from the film Happy Feet 2 and if you haven’t seen this one before, Bill and Will are krill living in the same area as Mumble and the rest of the colony of penguins. They go on an adventure to find themselves, out of their meaningless life as food for the whales, seals, etc in the ocean.


Create a conversation between two leaves that are about to fall from a tree. One is scared and the other is excited about the long trip to the ground. What do they talk about and why?


Ohhhh… I can’t do it. There’s just no way I can get through it. I’ll die, I just know it. Why doesn’t Leaf or the rest of the family understand my genuine fears of breaking ground? That’s it! I’m not going! I’m putting my wings down on this one.

Leaf can hear his brother Vere mutter to himself again. This has become a reoccurring issue the longer we stay up here among the tallest tree in the neighborhood. I’m pretty sure he’s the one who chased away all of the pretty girls who blossomed earlier this season. They couldn’t handle him having a panic attack at all hours about making the journey downward before the snow makes its first landfall.

Funny enough, he didn’t use to be this way. When we were first budding, he looked down at the ground below us and expressed his thoughts of what goes on down there. According to our grandfather Oak, it is essential for all of us to make it down at the end of autumn, but he forgot to mention that we need to be careful on which day we decide to let loose, because there are dangers when you finally make it down, and you are reminded by it almost every other day, thanks to the loud noise that radiates across the block.

“VERE! You’re waking up the rest of the crew! Shut up and let us sleep!” Aubrey yelled across the other side of the tree. Despite the rest of her family caving and disembark on their way a little earlier than planned because Vere had become even more annoying to any one who could hear him.

“You know Auburn, why don’t you go ahead and go down there, maybe you’ll find pieces of your family after the ugly statue ran over them a few weeks ago!” Vere snapped, knowing what he had hit a nerve on his childhood friend, but still went on his ranting anyway.

*groans*

“Nice going you jerk!” someone shouted opposite of them. “What is wrong with him Leaf? You know how sensitive Auburn is about what happened to her family!” Another person said and to make matters worse, twisted around enough to face Leaf and became unattached to his post at the same time. At least there wasn’t any wind around, so at least the landing will smooth for them.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know!” Leaf shouted at his neighbors and friends. “Aubs, you know what he’s saying shouldn’t believed with a grain of seedling.” as Leaf said in his sweetest voice before turning back to his brother with the prospect of just pushing his brother overboard so everyone could go in peace, but he knew he couldn’t do it. As much as he hated apologizing over and over because of his brother’s mouth, he also was a little afraid to make the jump too, he just wasn’t willing to let it show to anyone, including Verdant.

Unfortunately, I had a whole month to come up with this story but never quite made it through this scene in my head, so this is all of it. So, I’m really sorry this is so short, but I like it as a cliffhanger.

If you were a leaf on top of the tallest tree in your park, would you be frightened like Vere or be super annoyed like Leaf and Aubrey? I’d like to see your answers below!

snowflake

Free Write | The Ghosts Of Lord Byron’s Past Regrets

Hello!

So, a couple of weeks ago I was scrolling through Twitter and I don’t really follow a lot of writing accounts, although I have days were I want to go on a follow spree but I have to stop myself in my thoughts because I hardly saw this in the chaos of my timeline! The one account I do follow is called Magic Realism Bot. When I first started reading the various prompts, I realized there are a lot of fantasy and sci-fi but mid-2019, they started asking for other subject suggestions and I think that was my main reason why I haven’t unfollowed in the last few months or so!

After we left for my nephew’s party on the 13th, I fell asleep and when I got up I saw this writing prompt and was immediately inspired to write, but I chose to wait it out a bit to collect my mind because honestly I was fully awake when I saw it. Before I start telling you my story, I want to mention that I haven’t written anything since Christmas so I hope you can forgive me for the many, many mistakes you’ll probably see below. I also hope you enjoy it as well!

And now, here is the prompt:

“You wake up and realize you have turned into Lord Byron.”

Setting is Greece in 1824, Byron is very sick and slowly dying; he’s laying in a makeshift bed in his army’s camp alone. He is hallucinating after the bloodletting operations went unsuccessful for the second time. 

“Where–where am I?”

“I should be with my mates.. on the grassy lands and making plans to attack our enemies.”

The hero, poet, soldier, womanizer is under strict orders to stay in his tent by his doctors. He thought the need to pray at first his illness appeared but he feared that God wouldn’t listen to his selfish cries. As sweat continued to pull down across his face and pain in his stomach became too much to ignore as time went on, he was without a clock or any of his exclusive pleasures to hide away from the shame inside. The longer the blood sat in his body, the more poison would spread and race to his heart. It would be its final resting place to infect and then he would be at peace, or at least he hoped he would.

Before this was to happen, he stirred in his bed covered in the now soaked blankets to keep warm, and closed his eyes reluctantly and fell into a deep sleep. He had hoped it wouldn’t be his last.

Suddenly the faint sounds of children giggling around him. A little girl playing with a long red ribbon, she’s running away from him with a smile across her face. “Wait, come back Augusta! I need you!” he shouted in his empty room. He never opened his eyes, hoping the girl would return if she knew he was asleep, instead the space became quiet again.

Bryon shifted in his bed again, this time turning on his left side, away from the slightly open flap of the tent and away from the curious eyes that would sometimes pear inside to see the non-flamboyant man withering in hell. Unbeknownst himself, he lifted his left arm to make room for the rest of his body and splitting the fresh stitches in the corner of his elbow. He was already experiencing strong pains, one more to add to the endless lists didn’t bother him.

“Oh yes, my Lord.” a seductive voice of an unknown woman appeared in the opposite corner. She was alone with him, enjoying each other’s company very much. A smirk emerged on his face in front of the vivid mirror in front of them. George saw himself in a glance and saw himself kissing a brunette maiden. He liked every hue as long as he was in control, that’s all he asked in their time together. This woman was different though. He knew she was adventurous but nothing could prepare him for the game she wanted to play.

“How about we take this off? Hmm?” He quietly spoke into her ear, and the slight nod reassured he could do anything he wanted with her.

She stood from the chair of the desk and furiously pulled his hands to her back but he continued the kissing on her neck. His fingers worked the way down the tight corset in her middle section of her body. After unlacing the last string away from the rough exterior, he tossed it to the floor. Now she was able to undress by herself now and this meant his hands could explore and wander around her body freely. Once every last garment was off, she turned attention back to him, but something was wrong.

A minute ago, the man was young and incredibly healthy. Now she stood in front of him in disgust. He looked as though they had just finished having sex as he was sweaty but the major difference was he looked miserable. He tried his best to keep standing but a sharp pain his stomach only grew worse and he couldn’t control his rage like she was the cause of it.

She wasn’t though.

The memory of having slept with Mary Shelley stayed playing over and over in his thoughts even after their little affair ended several years before. He remembered every feature, as she was quite the beauty back then as was he at the time too. He knew she was the woman in front of him. He looked down at his weakling body and thought of their ghost stories they read at the Villa Diodati in Switzerland. Could she picture him as her monster? Is this how she created him? Using the body of an worthless man like him right now?

As he tried to approach her one last time, the image of her naked body and the gold rimmed mirror on the wall behind her began fading away. The more steps he made, the quicker the reverie collapsed on itself. Colors of Mary ran through each other and created another landscape. This time the memories were harder to ignore because now he was in a field. He tried to focus on the ground and wondered if he was standing in the middle of a battlefield. The only thing that tore away from this notion was the piercing cry of a child. George squat down but this time not from the lingering pain he suffered.

The child was still screaming, but he had trouble concertating on the source behind it. And then, he yelled out, “Ada!” hoping that if it was in fact Ada in trouble, she would cry out for him again.

“Papa!” Ada returned the signal. The picture of his little girl flourished inside of him. He ran towards the direction she appeared to be in; all the while even more memories and of course overwhelming regrets sat inside his heart. He knew he had to save her. He tried to run faster but he would run out of breath and was forced to stop in his tracks. Ada never stopped shouting for him, nor did he in trying to catch up to her.

After running for a couple minutes, he saw a small child with lightly brown curls and dressed in the simplest dress. The ribbon in his first vision was attached to her hair in a beautiful bow and as he walked towards her, he soon realized this was not what it seemed at all.

He knew she was going to vanish like Mary had in the last flash of torture, this time he wouldn’t let it happen without speaking to her one last time.

“Ada!” Byron debating to walk closer to her, worrying that it would speed up the dreamscape again. “Come here sweetheart. Come over to me please.” He reached his arms out to her but she didn’t budge.

“Why didn’t you love me, Papa?” She spoke to him, never breaking eye contact with him. He was trapped in her gaze and it wasn’t like the moment he had Mary, as that was  pure pleasure to him. This was a burden he longed to forget when he was alone.

“I do love you, my darling daughter.” Byron said to her as he fell to his knees. “You are mine. You always will be…” The pain in his body raptured inside and it was greater than any pain he experienced before. He just couldn’t tell if it was his heart braking or the infection finally hitting its destination, either way he knew his heart was dying.

“I love you Papa!” Ada said with a small wave and then suddenly the look on her face turned to black and Byron snapped out of his dreams. He grunted as he shot up in his bed and tried to turn away to the large bottle of bourbon and spilled out of the bed and landed hard on the dead grass underneath him.

He knew this was the end but he was angry at himself and the memories.

He never got to tell his daughter how much he loved her too. Even though he was obsessed with his booze, war and women. Nothing could take away the love he felt for his sweet daughter. Tears flew down his cheeks along with the sweat that never stopped when he fell down. He was in pain, emotionally, mentally, and physically. He hoped to live to write to Ada about how much she meant to him truly but it wasn’t to be.

George growled into the Earth, and spoke out loud for the last time. “…I love you…”

 What do you think of this story? 

snowflake

Life Lately | Oh, Singing The February Blues!

Howdy!

Yup, it’s me! I’m back to blogging after what feels like forever! February wasn’t a bad month, but it still sucked. I wasn’t my normally peppy, productive self and even though I had a lot of different types of blog posts in my head and in my daily planner, it’s been hard to concentrate to do anything worthwhile.

It seems like for the most part, February was full of sickness. I have over 200+ friends on Facebook and I’m pretty sure, the majority had some sort of illness! I wasn’t sick with the flu, like most people, but I felt really out of it though. I just wanted to sleep, which concerned my parents because they know how I hate taking naps in any part of the day. A part of me thinks it has to do with my depression creeping back to me. I’ve been feeling negative with myself again. I’ve also noticed that I just want to start bawling in both happy and sad times. It’s been really frustrating to figure out which could be wrong with me, because I don’t know what could be different compared to how life was like in October!

When February arrived, I was a little down with myself because I hadn’t used that last week of January to work on the first two weeks of the new month, so I think that was part of the issue in the beginning, but once I started working on my disability challenge posts I was fine! It wasn’t until I started working on my Valentine’s Day stories that I really noticed something different with myself. In January, I wanted to write happy, love stories. I don’t know why I decided to write about breakups instead. I was really mad at myself for not doing better since I had been so excited to begin production on them.

I don’t like putting a lot of pressure on myself. I’m already doing two other series on my blog, plus one more exclusively on my blog’s Facebook profile for this year. I did not need to add a fourth idea this late–and yes, it is considered “late” because I’ve done enough planning! When I came up with these ideas, I gave myself enough time in between so I wouldn’t feel like everything was crushing me to the point where I’d give up on everything! I just decided stop what I was doing for February and wait to publish anything until March begins, so I would have a new month, a new start to get things finished, scheduled and ready for you all to read something different and fun!

For the past few weeks, I’ve been trying to do more self-care things, like reading and watching movies again. I’ve also joined a fun community of baby name euthastists like myself on Facebook, so I’ve been having fun collecting pairings, and adding onto my personal list and “baby names” Pinterest board too! Speaking of Pinterest boards, if you’d like to see what I’ve been watching on TV lately, you can check out my “seen in 2019” mini board now! I’ve been exploring the drama and time period films again, so if you are into historical, tear-jerker type of movies, you’d think you’ve hit the jackpot with my list!

How was your February? Have you or your family been going through the sickness too? Hope you’re all feeling better!

Blogmas | Mr. G (writing prompt)

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Howdy!

Merry Christmas everyone!

Today’s post will be another story that I found online. It really surprised me how little Christmas/winter writing prompts there are anywhere! It took me so long to find ones that I liked to create something for you. The fact that I have one for you for this week kind of freaked me out, but once I read it, I knew it was going to be the one for me. The first thing that popped into my mind though was the Gingerbread man in the movie Shrek so I really hope you like this!

Originally, I was just going to use this prompt to create the story, but as I was dealing with the issues of trying to find a good one, my mom suggested that I talk about the Elf On The Shelf and its doings around the house at night. While I thought it was a good concept, I didn’t want to mess with my other one. After a couple of days, ideas started floating around in my head that combined both of them, so this was the ending result!


Grandmother pulled the last tray of gingerbread men from the oven. Suddenly…

Hilda enjoyed her time with her grandchildren, so she decided to make it easier on herself and finish making the beloved gingerbread men at nine o’clock in the evening. The house was somewhat quiet as the only noise throughout the house was her humming and the occasional dinging of the oven. It was very relaxing to her to bake before everyone came over, but it didn’t last…

As she was pulling out the last tray of men from the oven, she began to hear a light rustling and even some grunting noises coming from the other side of her island. She put down the tray of freshly baked gingerbread softly before quickly locating a cast-iron pan from her shelf and gripped it hard.

“Is anybody there?” She said in her tiny quivering voice. “Don’t come any closer, I’m armed” the pan shook in her hands as shear terror rippled through her whole body. She took a step forward to see if she could catch a glimpse of the stranger down below. As she took the step, the floor creaked under her feet and she froze. By this time, a tip of a tiny red and while cap slowly appeared on the opposite side, climbing its way up unknowingly what he was walking into at this moment.

“Ugh, the things I will do for a little snack.” The little creature poked his long but little arms from below and his shiny head suddenly movable kept looking back at the drop he’d make if he wasn’t careful with his footing. Once he got his upper limbs over, he just crawled across the top to make things easier on himself. After safely making the journey, he sighed and stood up to wipe off the dust of his plain Christmas-y suit. Now he was clean but saw something in the corner of his eye and it made him turn around halfway to face a very terrified Hilda.

Ahhhhhh!

As Hilda screamed, she accidentally dropped the pan on her foot. She was conflicted to deal with the pain of her toes or the mysterious intruder. After several seconds, it dawned on her that this little man looked oddly like her elf on the shelf that she does with her grandchildren. So, she approached it slowly and said,  “Rascal, is that you?”

“Rascal? My name is not that ratchet disgrace. The name’s Mr G and you can tell your little hooligans that the next time you see them too.” He said as folded his long arms together.

Hilda was shocked that he actually talked back to her, in such a rude tone, at that. “That’s what the box named you, Rascal.” Hilda calmly said back as she slowly bent down to pick up the pan on the kitchen floor. “I must be sleep baking again. How are you alive right now?” She gently put the pan on the island closes to her body as possible, you know just in case she needed it.

“Well we’re supposed to keep our identities a secret but then I smelled the cookies from the ridiculous position you had me in on the mantle, and since I was going to be there until dawn, I figured I deserved a treat.” G said as he made his way over to the freshly spiced cookies that were finally cool to the touch. He grabbed the smallest one of the bunch and shoved the whole thing into his mouth, licking his fingers to make that the rest of the crumbs were off of his outfit.

At this time, Hilda was in a daze. She couldn’t believe that this seemingly plastic toy could be eating a real cookie in front of her. “There’s more of you? Will all of my dolls come alive like you too?” As soon as she said that, she began to fear them move around and talk in a rude manner like Mr. G, which would help explain the loud banging and creaking sounds coming from the living room and kitchen late at night.

“Eh, I don’t think so.” As he finished the cookie and pushing the last bit of crumbs off the edge as they landed on the floor. “Unless they are Santa’s helpers, but they look too delicate to be one of us.” G looked at him with love on his face. “I wish they were, they are so good-looking and I haven’t had a decent date in decades!”

She turned her head to face the most expensive dolls she has and back to the creepy little dude on the island. It was just too crazy that this “Rascal” would be alive in the middle of her kitchen, and oozing over her $1,000 dolls on handmade shelves. He shook his head before looking back at the tray again, debating another cookie, before heading back to his hideous spot until Hilda began to speak once again, “You know I can put you in a more flattering place, if you want.”

G looked at her with delight, and walked towards her and as he stood at the ledge, he put his hands up at her like a baby would wanting to be carried around, she hestianted a bit before taking the chance and cradled him inside her arms and put him on the coffee table where she’d eventually place the milk and cookies in a day or two, but for now it’ll be Rascal–I mean, Mr. G’s new placement for the night.

Before she left his view for good, he spoke one more time to her. “Hey, if you could, please do not tell those little idiots about me being alive at night? Although it would be fun to scare them for once in my life.” She looked at him and smiled, signaling that she’d keep quiet for him. Afterwards, he suddenly looked away and became so sincere in his plastered smile on his face. The end.

So what did you think of this little story? I thought it was adorable! Would you like to see more of these types of stories during other holidays? 

snowflake

Will I Do NaNoWriMo Again This Year?

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Howdy!

It is almost that time for National Novel Writing Month or  “NaNoWriMo” as some people like to call it. For some writers, they live for this time of the year but for the rest, it’s something that they absolutely dread. I can understand both sides, if you enjoy it, I feel like you are good at being pressured and able to write everyday on your story, but I also know why others fear it too. If you have a very active social or work life at the moment, writing is literally the last thing on your mind.

As for me, I’ve had it in my brain since April, after I wrote my post about not being able to participate in CampNaNoWriMo that I should probably do it, but honestly I don’t see the point in it. I don’t want to force anything that doesn’t want to appear to me in dreams right now, you know what I’m saying?

There is hope though as I am using Pinterest to help me generate the characters and overall setting of my story. I’ve been looking into different people’s photos and have developed a clear picture of my female characters: Angela and Star. I am still having issues with my main character Heath, most because I have a general person in mind but he looks relativity younger than I want him to for my story so I’m trying to keep an open mind to other messy blondes. And Brace is my “complicated” character and he’s always been that way, so finding him has been quite a challenge for me! The others will come eventually at least that what I’m hoping will happen!

Another thing that I’m busy looking into is how to do outlines. I feel like finding the right way to figure out how I want things to go, is the key to my success on completing my first draft. I have a board on my profile for my favorite blog posts, and since November has been coming up, other writers have been writing posts of tips and how-to’s for aspiring NaNo rookies. I have three blog posts that talk creating an outline for their stories and I will have them listed below!

Now if you are thinking about joining NaNo, I have some posts I did last year, if you’d like to look into them. I wrote three updates and I had shared some of the websites I was using to attempt keep my pace together, maybe they will help you out too! I’d like to make a point to say, that I didn’t make it to the end of the month and I explain why that happened in the final post, but I was still fairly impressed with myself on what I did get done.

Am I Still Working On My Novel | 2 Week Mark | Am I Finished Or Not

Before I go, I just want to say good luck to everyone that is doing NaNoWriMo this year! You may not hit your word count everyday, nor will you like everything you’ve been working on, but I can definitely say that’s all part of the process! After it’s all over, you can revisit it, and you’ll see that you produced something awesome. 🙂

Have you ever thought about joining the NaNoWriMo party? What is keeping you back from writing your story?

snowflake