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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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That One Time…

Jeffrey Flanstern has had a very boring life. Except for that one time when…
He was abducted by aliens.
He was attacked by his cutlery gone mad.
He was robbed blind by a Bigfoot gang.
He was chased by zombies on Main Street.
He was stuck in the middle of a zebra stampede.
He was stuck in a time loop that went on for far too long.
He was mistaken for a jewel thief.
He was tricked into being the sheriff of a ghost town for thirty-nine days straight.
He was captured by the savage kittens living in the bowels of the Detroit Opera House.
He was turned into a trombone.
He was electrocuted under inexplicable circumstances.
He was accosted by a strange magician in New York.
He was tricked into buying a mummy, a dummy, a bad calligraphy set, and sixty-eight parakeets.

Other than that, he has had a very dull life.

August Writing Prompts

 

Hiccupping Haikus

There’s a hiccup in my haiku
And spoilers in my stew.

I can’t make the syllables come out right.
I can’t unsee the words in my stew.

I count the words.
Once twice.

I see dead people.
No, I am your father.
The words twirl about
Between carrots and potatoes.

I can’t find the right rhythm.
The zen-like feel.

They were dead the whole time.
She is not his sister.
And they all die at the end.

Maybe I should stop.

Because there are hiccups in my haikus
And spoilers in my stew.

And I am not really sure
What to do.

August Writing Prompts

The Thumbprint Thief

“In other news, Nicolas Vernes, also known as The Thumbprint Thief, has died of natural causes. He was known for stealing the thumbprints of the rich and famous and oh so beautiful. His methods for stealing the thumbprints were top secret and terribly mysterious. No one ever caught him doing it. The thumbprints were never found, all except for Angela Bassett’s. The FBI found her thumbprint on his bathroom mirror. Very mysterious.  His arrest was applauded by many of the elites of Hollywood society, even though there were many who believed that he was innocent. But, in the court of popular opinion, he was guilty. He managed to do it somehow. But no one knows how. I would like to say that this is a great and tragic loss, but everyone knows that it really isn’t. I’m going to wrap this up by saying that…He was 52 years old.” The newscaster smiled at her fellow newscaster with a plastic-like smile. “How about that, John?”

John shrugged. “All I can say is, one can never tell.”

***

Angela Bassett flicked a smug smile at the TV screen. “Oh, yes.” She flipped the page in her scrapbook. “One can never tell.” She tapped the blank spot between Cate Blanchett and Robert de Niro. “I just need Drew Carey and Jim Carrey and my collection will be complete.”

August Writing Prompts

Silky Submersions

Tristin stood on the shore, watching the sun set. He had been given three days.

Just three days.

It shouldn’t have been so difficult. His face was still his face. She should have recognized him even without his voice.

She should have known that it was him.

She didn’t.

She didn’t know him at all.

No recognition.

He had tried so hard and failed. Three days of trying. Three days of failing.

Tristin heard the sound of her laughter in the salted seaweed air. He glanced back.

She ran across the beach. Her bright red hair flowing behind her head like a horse’s mane.

The familiar pinprick sensation came over his legs.

If only.

The sensation deepened into a dagger’s stabbing.

If only.

Tristin winced and cringed as the pain worsened. He staggered into the water. His feet became clumsy. His legs became unstable. He tripped and fell face first.

Water.

Sea water.

Silken memories.

He crawled through the waves, trying to get to the deeper water before she could see him. He didn’t want her to see him like this.

Not now.

Time was up.

His legs fused together. His feet joined at the ankles and lengthened into graceful fins. His slacks dissolved into scales.

His arm fins broke through his skin.

He pulled the white shirt off and threw it into the surf.

He swam through the water.

The silken, familiar water.

It revived something inside him. He could feel it inside his marrow. He could feel it inside his throat.

Tristin opened his mouth wide and the music poured from his throat.

Music of sunrises and sunsets.

Music of waves and storms.

Music of mermaids and mermen.

***

Out on the shore, Ariel stopped running.

Music filled the air.

Sweet music.

Sad music.

Music that tugged at her.

Music that she knew.

Music that haunted her dreams.

She looked to the sea.

Just as the sun fully set.

“Tristin?”

August Writing Prompts

In The Crowd

I see her every day, but not when I’m walking alone. It’s always when I’m out with my friends. Or when I’m at the mall.

I see her.

Weaving in and out of the crowd, she’ll stop and look at me. Her expression is neutral. There’s no clues for me to read into. I have no idea why she looks at me.

But she does.

She’s always too far out of my reach. I never can find the courage to approach her. Maybe I think she’ll disappear. Or maybe I think she’s Death waiting for me to surrender.

I’m not ready to die.

I’m not willing to surrender.

But whenever I walk through crowds on the street or at the mall or at church, I look for her. I watch for her.

I hope for her.

And she appears.

Whoever or whatever she is, she always appears in a crowd.

Maybe one day I’ll find the courage to chase her. Maybe I’ll give in and call out to her. When I do, I will call out her name. Somehow, in that moment, I will know her name.

I feel like she already knows mine.

I feel like she knows me. She knows everything about me.

But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.

Maybe she is nothing at all.

Just a wish.

Just a dream.

Just a hallucination running always in the crowd.

August Writing Prompts

Birthday Bash!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Didi Oviatt has a new writing challenge for this month. It’s entitled “Birthday Bash!” Just take the characters from your WIP (Work In Progress) and plug them into a BIRTHDAY BASH scene/short story. Something apart from your book, but one that really lets their personalities shine!

It took me a while to figure out which one of my many characters should be involved in this birthday bash. Who did I decide on? 😉  Read on to find out.

“Okay!” Hildreth Mayhew glanced around the decorated training room. “Everything looks good. We got our streamers. We got balloons.”

His best friend, Jeff Farsigh, snorted. “It looks to me like we have too many balloons.”

Hildreth wagged his finger at him. “There’s no such thing as too many balloons.”

“You’re crazy. I hope you know that, you dweeb.” Jeff exhaled. “So. The question remains. What are we gonna do with all of this glitter? I mean, we have two buckets full of the stuff.”

“I don’t know. I still haven’t figured out that piece yet.” Hildreth glanced around as if he were hoping to see a “Put Glitter Here” sign.

Jeff chuckled. “Hey, I have a crazy idea.”

“Crazy away.”

“We could balance it on the door so when Master Initskay opens it—-”

A slow grin spread across Hildreth’s face. “He gets drenched in glitter.”

“I don’t think drenched is the right word.”

“Dork! It’s the perfect word.”

“Anyway, that’s one idea.”

Hildreth lifted the one mop bucket and looked inside. “Wow. That really is a lot of glitter. I feel like we should do something more with it. Dumping it on his head would be awesome, but such a waste.”

“And he would make us clean it up.”

“Definitely. It needs to be something more—-something more…Argh! I don’t know what!”

“Hey.” Jeff gently punched his friend’s arm. “Don’t sweat it. We’ll figure something out before he comes in here.”

The training room door slid open.

Hildreth startled and dropped the bucket. Glitter spilled all over the hard wood floor.

Master Initskay looked at the sparkling mess.

Hildreth and Jeff bowed to him.

“Well. That’s something.”

Hildreth raised his head. “Master, I can explain.”

Master Initskay looked up at the banners that were mostly hidden by all of the balloons. He looked at the handwritten “Happy Birthday, Master Initskay” signs plunked in front of every single punching dummy.

“We were planning to surprise you.” Jeff said.

“We hadn’t quite worked out all of the details.”

The Master looked at the mess on the floor. “Such as the glitter, I assume.”

Both boys said, “Yes, Master.” in unison.

Master Initskay covered his mouth with his hands and laughed.

Jeff straightened up and glanced at Hildreth.

“You two never cease to amaze me. I suppose you made a cake.”

“Ah.” Hildreth said. “About that. Um.”

“We tried to make a layered cake, Master, but—”

“—it wasn’t a good idea.”

Jeff gave Hildreth a friendly shove. “Dweeb. The idea was good. The execution was poor.”

“No. Poor isn’t the right word. I know that for sure. It was more like…disastrous.”

Jeff nodded. “Disastrous is the perfect word. So, we made cookies instead.”

“They’re slightly burnt.”

“But still edible.”

“Very edible.” Hildreth said. “I may have had one or two.”

Jeff snorted. “Yeah. One or two too many.”

“Hey! You had your fair share.”

“So, how many cookies are left?” Master Initskay asked.

Hildreth stuck out his chest with pride and said, “Five and a half.”

“More like five and half of a half.”

Hildreth waved off Jeff’s comment. “It’s still five and a half.”

“Dweeb.”

“Dork.”

Master Initskay contemplated the glitter. “Hm. I really should have you two clean up that mess.” He smiled. “But.” His smile grew. “I’ve had a major hankering for freshly baked cookies for the past couple days now.”

Hildreth’s expression brightened. “So, we can have the rest of the cookies now?”

“Absolutely.”

The two boys high-fived each other. “Yes!”

“But you will have to clean up your mess.” Master Initskay looked up at the crowd of balloons. “Except for the balloons. Let’s leave those up for the rest of the day.”

“Yes, Master!”

https://didioviatt.wordpress.com/2019/08/02/august-wip-writing-challenge-birthday-bash/