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First blog post

Well! I took a deep breath and jumped.

This is my very first blog. I’m kind of nervous and excited to get this started.

I’ve been writing stories on the Writer’s Digest Creative Writing Prompts forum every week for the past two years. It’s been a wonderful learning experience to take their prompts, no matter how weird or specific, and turn them into two or three completely different stories. I’ve written stories on there that I normally wouldn’t have considered writing – science fiction stories, vampire stories, and so on. My fellow forumites, who are awesome writers, have helped me with their suggestions and comments to grow as a writer.

So, after much mental fidgeting and nail biting, I finally decided to create this blog to give my prompt stories a proper home.

Hope you enjoy them!

AK

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Dim Desires

Be careful and
Be aware of
What you eat on
Halloween.

If you eat too much
candy like Twizzlers and
What-Me-Nots and
Butterfingers and
Hershey bars,
There will be
Consequences.

There will be
Dim desires for
Things, such things,
That are not chocolate.

Things like
Lunchmeat and
Potato chips and
Fruit of all sorts and
worst of all
VEGETABLES.

For, you see, a
Person can eat only so much
Chocolate before they start
To want something more.
Something better.
Something healthier.

So, this Halloween,
Please remember.
Be careful and mindful
Of what
You
Eat.

October Writing Prompts

Shiver And Quiver On Halloween Night

Shiver and Quiver
raced across the street
on Halloween night.

They slipped under cars
and danced across their roofs.
They screamed and made
car windows vibrate and shake.
They whooshed into cars
and played tic-tac-toe
with the door locks.

They laughed and careened.
They teased and bothered
They pestered and grieved
everyone in sight.
For, after all, it was
Halloween night.

October Writing Prompts

Brimstone Brew

Harry, Hermione, and Ron went to the pub. They had all managed to fail their OWLs, even Hermione, which was a rather rare occurrence.

Harry had declared that this was reason enough to go to the pub and order something stronger than butterbeer.

Ron’s mouth had stretched into a queasy expression, but Hermione had agreed full-heartedly.

So, the three of them marched into the Brooken Broomstick pub with Harry leading the way.

Harry slapped the counter to get the bartender’s attention. “Oy! A round of Brimstone Brew for me and me mates.”

The bartender looked down at them. “Oy yerself, kid. Yer too young to be drinkin’ somethin’ of that strength. Tell ye what. I’ll get ye and yer mateys some nice iced milk.”

“Hey!” Hermione snapped. “You don’t seem to know who this is.” She shoved Harry’s super-dense bangs to the side, revealing his famous scar.

“Oooo. Yer some underaged kid with a fancy scar. Ain’t ye a special case. Sorry. I ain’t gonna get busted by the Better Bartenders Bureau for encouraging underage drinkin’.”

Harry climbed on top of the nearest barstool and stood on it. “You have no idea the horrors I have seen in my young life.”

“Write me a book about it. Then, maybe ye’ll be closer to legal drinkin’ age when yer’ll all done.”

Harry stomped his foot on the barstool. “This is an outrage! I am indignant. Yes, indignant!”

“Tough crumpets and old tea.”

Ron made a queasy sound effect.

“What are you three hooligans doing in myyyyy bar?” The potions master intoned behind them.

Harry jumped off the stool, just missing Ron’s foot. “I’m trying to get myself a stiff Brimstone Brew to take my mind off of all my problems. And I have a great many problems. Such problems. Including you!”

The potions master blinked slowly, rather like a cat. “I seeeee.”

“Good. I hope you see. I hope you see it all!”

The potions master smiled.

Ron fainted with fright and reasonably so. The potions master never smiled. It wasn’t a natural act for him. It made his eyes crinkle in alarming ways.

Even Harry and Hermione were quelled by that awful sight.

“Bartender, give a small Brimstone Brew to both of these rapscallions.”

The bartender looked like he wanted to object, but he shrugged and obeyed. He returned quickly with two shot glasses filled with a bubbling orange and black tar.

Harry looked at the drink.

“Is this really meant for human consumption?” Hermione asked.

“Indeeeed, Miss Granger. I drink it all the time.”

“I doubt it.” Harry muttered. He was about to push his drink away, but then Hermione picked up her shot glass and drank it down in one gulp.

“Bottoms up, Potter.” The potions master said with a sneer.

Harry looked at him with all of his fierce angsty might and drank it in one fast gulp. It tasted like stale Halloween sweets. “Blah. That—”

“Harry!” Hermione cried out.

“What?”

She turned green with pink furry spots. Antlers sprouted out of her frizzy brown hair. Oversized owl wings whooshed out of her back.

The potions master snickered.

“Wha?” Harry gasped as the same transformation came over him.

“There’s a reason why it’s called Brimstone Brew. If you paid attention in my class, Potter, you would know that Brimstone Brew is made from magic left in the bottom of witches’ cauldrons.”

“Are we to be stuck like this?” Hermione asked crossly.

Ron regained consciousness, mostly because he felt like he was being left out of the story. Then, he saw his two classmates. He let out a terrified whimper and fainted again.

The potions master smirked at Harry. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe if you improved your grades, the effects will wear off.”

Harry’s green skin paled. “You mean I have to go to school looking like this?”

“Indeeed, Potter. I daresay it is a vast improvement over your ordinary appearance.”

Harry huffed. “Come, Hermione. You are the worst, Snape. The WORST!” They left the pub, abandoning poor Ron with Snape.

Ron wobbled back into consciousness. ‘Wha? Harry? Hermione?”

Snape smirked. “You look rather unwell, Mister Weasley. You should have a cup of Brimstone Brew.”

 

 

October Writing Prompts

 

Purple Plasma

Purple plasma dripped
dripped
dripped
dripped.

It was thick
and sticky
and tacky.

It took its good time
dripping
dripping
dripping
from the creature’s open wound.

It stuck to
the creature’s dense fur
the creature’s rusty crate.

The vet carefully removed
the creature
the sticky creature
the tacky creature
from its drip stained crate.

The creature shook out
its purple plasma body
its sticky purple plasma-stained body
its tacky purple plasma-dripped body
liberally sprinkling the vet.

The vet sighed
and said
“It’s going to be
one of those days
today, isn’t it?”

 

October Writing Prompts

The Undying Boy

The man sat on his bed in his room.

It had been his room long ago, but not anymore. He had outgrown it. The bed. The toys.

The memories connected to each piece of furniture.

Yet, he sat on that outdated bed and he remembered the two boys who once slept in there.

Jim and Pete.

Himself and his younger brother.

He remembered the dreams they spun out of the wild air.

He remembered the songs they sang at the top of their lungs.

He remembered the day they ended.

The day his younger brother died.

The pain was still there, deep inside of him.

The pain singed his nerves and rattled his bones.

He doubled over and pressed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes.

And, in his pain and in his grief, he remembered the land they created out of moonbeams and stardust.

A land where boys didn’t need to behave and follow adults’ rules. They could run around outside at night and sing with the mermaids if they chose to do so. Or they could chase pixies and play tag with the stars.

They could fly.

He remembered how they could fly.

Swift as swifts and swallows and they could sing like the wrens.

They were bright and glorious then.

A thought came to him.

A strange thought that wouldn’t let him go.

What if Pete never died?

What if he simply became lost?

What if he simply flew away to the place of their stories, the place of all their dreams?

What if Pete were there now and he was eternal? He would never age. He would never die. He would lead his band of missing boys.

No.

Not missing boys.

Lost boys.

Boys who were like Peter. Eternal and ever young.

He raised his head.

“I must write this down before I forget it all. But where to start? Do I start with him coming to that land? No. It needs something more. Something to connect all of the adventures together. To make it cohesive and whole.”

He thought of his wife and smiled.

“What if he met a girl and her two brothers? What would they do? How would they interact? What if the girl didn’t want to grow up?”

He got off the bed and hurried downstairs to the den. He sat down at the writing desk, pulled out a stack of paper, and a quill pen.

And he started to write Peter’s story and all of his glorious adventures in Neverland.

Yellow Umbrellas

Rain falls.
Umbrellas blossom.
Bright yellow blossoms.

Tap. Tap. Tap.
The rain taps
On the yellow umbrellas.
Bright yellow flowers.

I watch the umbrellas
As they race and bustle
Up and down the street.

No one sees me
As I see them.

Some of them are bright.
Some of them are dim.
Some are lovely.
Some far from it.

I swoop down to their level.
And I become like them.
A stranger with an umbrella.
Just another bright yellow blossom
Always on the move.

No one sees me.
No one notices.
No one knows
Who I really am.

To them
I’m just another umbrella.
Just another bright yellow umbrella
Rushing about in the rain.
And dreaming of the sun.

September Writing Prompts

Wilting Efforts

I’ve been trying so hard to keep us all together.
With Scotch tape and Elmer’s glue.
With adhesive backing and Band Aids
I’ve tried.

I’ve done everything I could to keep you with me.
With words.
With songs.
With hopes.
With prayers.

I’ve tried so hard.

But you’ve done nothing in return.
You’ve sat there with boredom’s hand on your face.
A yawn.
A sigh.
A “Not right now”.
A “Don’t bother me now”.

How long am I supposed to keep trying?
All on my own?
With no support?
With no affection?
From you.

It’s tiring.
It’s exhausting.
It’s a burden I didn’t think you’d make me bear.

I can’t keep doing it forever.
I’ve been trying for so long.
Why don’t you try some too?

September Writing Prompts