The exercise:
It's been a while since the last time I used the First Line Prompt.
So start your prose today with: Lessons born of pain are always the last to be forgotten.
Showing posts with label First Line Prompt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label First Line Prompt. Show all posts
Wednesday October 31st, 2018
The exercise:
Happy Halloween! To celebrate, your first line in today's writing shall be: The dead came out to play that day.
Happy Halloween! To celebrate, your first line in today's writing shall be: The dead came out to play that day.
Thursday January 4th, 2018
The exercise:
Time to bring back the First Line Prompt. This time around, begin with: I had a brother, once.
I overheard this at a coffee shop the other day - the speaker was an elderly man and he seemed to be talking with a couple he'd met fairly recently, perhaps even that morning via sharing a table during a busy time at the shop.
I mean no disrespect in using this as a prompt, it's just that the wording caught my attention. I don't think I'd even be using this if he'd said My brother died a long time ago or something like that. This seems to be far more open to interpretation (not that any of the alternatives would make for a bad prompt).
Anyway. Have at it.
Time to bring back the First Line Prompt. This time around, begin with: I had a brother, once.
I overheard this at a coffee shop the other day - the speaker was an elderly man and he seemed to be talking with a couple he'd met fairly recently, perhaps even that morning via sharing a table during a busy time at the shop.
I mean no disrespect in using this as a prompt, it's just that the wording caught my attention. I don't think I'd even be using this if he'd said My brother died a long time ago or something like that. This seems to be far more open to interpretation (not that any of the alternatives would make for a bad prompt).
Anyway. Have at it.
Monday November 21st, 2016
The exercise:
We return today to the first line prompt. That means we all get the same opening line, but then each of us takes it where our individual inspirations tell us to go. I'll get to the line in a minute.
This morning I finally got around to sowing our winter cover crop seed in the garden. So that, I think, means we're officially done with the farm until spring. Unless I'm forgetting something. Which I probably am.
Max and I were back at soccer class this afternoon (Kat and Miles stayed home so that he could nap... which he didn't). He had lots of fun and was even more excited to see that they're starting to put up Christmas decorations at the community centre.
So of course we ended up putting a few things up around our house after we got home.
Anyway. Let's get to the writing thing. Our opening shall be: Muriel picked up the newspaper and, as she had for the previous fifty mornings, turned immediately to the Classifieds and began perusing the Help Wanted ads.
Mine:
Muriel picked up the newspaper and, as she had for the previous fifty mornings, turned immediately to the Classifieds and began perusing the Help Wanted ads. She sipped her coffee as she did so - a lingering indulgence that she would not be able to justify (or afford) for much longer. At least, not if her job search continued to prove futile.
And at first it seemed like nothing would change that day. There were the usual assortment of ads for tech workers and fast typing receptionists (both categories stretching well beyond her current capabilities), along with the various minimum wage jobs that would never be enough to pay her bills: fast food counter person (could you imagine?), lawn maintenance (At her age? They'd die of laughter the moment she walked through the door!), gas station attendant (she didn't even like pumping her own gas), and farm workers (her knees no longer allowed her to work the garden in the back yard - the idea of weeding somebody else's veggies was almost enough to make her nauseous).
It was depressing, is what it was.
But then an ad caught her eye.
Wanted: One Henchman
You: Not squeamish. Discreet. Willing to do
whatever is required in order to get the job done.
Previous Henchman experience an asset.
Us: Well funded. Access to delicate information.
How to apply: Figure it out and the job is
practically yours already.
Well, Muriel thought as she set the paper aside. It had been a long time... but for the sake of a decent paycheck, she could see herself dusting off those old skills.
We return today to the first line prompt. That means we all get the same opening line, but then each of us takes it where our individual inspirations tell us to go. I'll get to the line in a minute.
This morning I finally got around to sowing our winter cover crop seed in the garden. So that, I think, means we're officially done with the farm until spring. Unless I'm forgetting something. Which I probably am.
Max and I were back at soccer class this afternoon (Kat and Miles stayed home so that he could nap... which he didn't). He had lots of fun and was even more excited to see that they're starting to put up Christmas decorations at the community centre.
So of course we ended up putting a few things up around our house after we got home.
Anyway. Let's get to the writing thing. Our opening shall be: Muriel picked up the newspaper and, as she had for the previous fifty mornings, turned immediately to the Classifieds and began perusing the Help Wanted ads.
Mine:
Muriel picked up the newspaper and, as she had for the previous fifty mornings, turned immediately to the Classifieds and began perusing the Help Wanted ads. She sipped her coffee as she did so - a lingering indulgence that she would not be able to justify (or afford) for much longer. At least, not if her job search continued to prove futile.
And at first it seemed like nothing would change that day. There were the usual assortment of ads for tech workers and fast typing receptionists (both categories stretching well beyond her current capabilities), along with the various minimum wage jobs that would never be enough to pay her bills: fast food counter person (could you imagine?), lawn maintenance (At her age? They'd die of laughter the moment she walked through the door!), gas station attendant (she didn't even like pumping her own gas), and farm workers (her knees no longer allowed her to work the garden in the back yard - the idea of weeding somebody else's veggies was almost enough to make her nauseous).
It was depressing, is what it was.
But then an ad caught her eye.
Wanted: One Henchman
You: Not squeamish. Discreet. Willing to do
whatever is required in order to get the job done.
Previous Henchman experience an asset.
Us: Well funded. Access to delicate information.
How to apply: Figure it out and the job is
practically yours already.
Well, Muriel thought as she set the paper aside. It had been a long time... but for the sake of a decent paycheck, she could see herself dusting off those old skills.
Wednesday July 27th, 2016
The exercise:
It has been, as usual, far too long since I last made use of the First Line Prompt. So today we all get the same opening, and then each of us gets to take it from there, wherever inspiration directs. And that opening shall be:
Callie frowned as she looked over the checklist in her hands - there was still one more box that needed to be ticked before she could head home for the day.
Productive day for me today. Worked a busy shift at the bakery this morning (they were closing up when I left at 12:30 as all the loaves and treats were sold out), finished off the garlic this afternoon, managed to shave this afternoon, and did a few errands in town just before dinner.
And now I'm very tired and needing to sleep. So...
Mine:
Callie frowned as she looked over the checklist in her hands - there was still one more box that needed to be ticked before she could head home for the day. And Darren was nowhere to be found.
She had looked in the staff cafeteria. She'd sent emissaries into each of the men's washrooms. She had even checked the weight room, despite its general level of disgustingness and the extreme unlikelihood that he would be there.
No luck on all counts.
The one place she hadn't bothered with was his desk. The man was never there, it seemed, so what was the point? But time was running out and she had exhausted all other options... so she might as well. Perhaps he'd need to grab his car keys before heading home?
"Callie!" Darren's expression told her all she needed to know. Well, that and the crumbs scattered across his desk which appeared to have come from at least four different fruit pies. "What are yo... I mean... how can I help you?"
"Darren." Callie smiled but it was not a pleasant one. "So glad I could catch you before you clocked out for the day."
"Yes, well, I d-"
"Or did you even clock in to begin your day?" Callie consulted her checklist and clicked open her pen with enthusiasm. "Actually, now that I think of it, when was the last time you did some real, honest to goodness work around here?"
"I, uh... well th-"
"You have three reports due by the end of the month," Callie reminded him, her pen tip hovering over that final, unmarked box. "I will expect two of them done by the end of the week. Understood?"
"The end of the week! But I can-"
"Excellent." Callie glanced down before returning her gaze to Darren's face. "I will check in with you tomorrow afternoon to make sure things are progressing as expected. See you then."
She whirled away without another word, and as she strode away she ticked off the final item on her day's checklist: Scare Darren so badly that he wets himself.
It has been, as usual, far too long since I last made use of the First Line Prompt. So today we all get the same opening, and then each of us gets to take it from there, wherever inspiration directs. And that opening shall be:
Callie frowned as she looked over the checklist in her hands - there was still one more box that needed to be ticked before she could head home for the day.
Productive day for me today. Worked a busy shift at the bakery this morning (they were closing up when I left at 12:30 as all the loaves and treats were sold out), finished off the garlic this afternoon, managed to shave this afternoon, and did a few errands in town just before dinner.
And now I'm very tired and needing to sleep. So...
Mine:
Callie frowned as she looked over the checklist in her hands - there was still one more box that needed to be ticked before she could head home for the day. And Darren was nowhere to be found.
She had looked in the staff cafeteria. She'd sent emissaries into each of the men's washrooms. She had even checked the weight room, despite its general level of disgustingness and the extreme unlikelihood that he would be there.
No luck on all counts.
The one place she hadn't bothered with was his desk. The man was never there, it seemed, so what was the point? But time was running out and she had exhausted all other options... so she might as well. Perhaps he'd need to grab his car keys before heading home?
"Callie!" Darren's expression told her all she needed to know. Well, that and the crumbs scattered across his desk which appeared to have come from at least four different fruit pies. "What are yo... I mean... how can I help you?"
"Darren." Callie smiled but it was not a pleasant one. "So glad I could catch you before you clocked out for the day."
"Yes, well, I d-"
"Or did you even clock in to begin your day?" Callie consulted her checklist and clicked open her pen with enthusiasm. "Actually, now that I think of it, when was the last time you did some real, honest to goodness work around here?"
"I, uh... well th-"
"You have three reports due by the end of the month," Callie reminded him, her pen tip hovering over that final, unmarked box. "I will expect two of them done by the end of the week. Understood?"
"The end of the week! But I can-"
"Excellent." Callie glanced down before returning her gaze to Darren's face. "I will check in with you tomorrow afternoon to make sure things are progressing as expected. See you then."
She whirled away without another word, and as she strode away she ticked off the final item on her day's checklist: Scare Darren so badly that he wets himself.
Monday July 20th, 2015
The exercise:
I think it is time to revisit the First Line Prompt. Let us all use the following sentence as the opening line to our writing today, and then each of us can take it wherever our inspiration chooses to go:
We watched the police car approach, feeling well-hidden in the shadows which surrounded us.
The new strawberry patch has now been weeded twice and mulched once. I started in on the third round of weeding and second round of mulching this morning (the first three rows are already getting weedy again and pulling them is disturbing enough mulch that it needs to be redone in certain spots). Hopefully these finishing touches don't take too long.
We finally received word today on how much it's going to cost to repair our produce cooler. Let me just say that I'm currently looking into alternative solutions.
Mine:
We watched the police car approach, feeling well-hidden in the shadows which surrounded us. The crunch of the tires rolling over the gravel of the driveway was the only sound as the night watched with bated breath. A southbound cooling breeze sauntered through the scene, unaware of the tension filling me and my brother's bodies.
Christopher's breathing was still shallow and steady, which was a relief. I knew I could depend on him while he remained calm. Once his emotions took over, however, all bets were off.
The car eased to a stop twenty feet from the front door of the house with its engine still running. Christopher and I exchanged silent glances but otherwise remained motionless. Eventually the driver cut the engine and the silence of the night returned swiftly.
I switched the knife from my left hand to my right and beside me Christopher did the same.
Both car doors creaked open at the same time as the cops exited the vehicle. They approached the house warily, each with one hand on his holstered weapon. I licked my lips. Christopher exhaled through his nose, a high pitched whistle that I was certain the cops would hear.
But neither of them so much as glanced in the direction of the bushes we lurked within. They just continued their deliberate advance until they had reached the door. The first officer rapped on the door as the second stepped back and drew his weapon. They remained that way for a full minute but no one answered.
Of course no one answered. My brother and I weren't inside.
At that point the cops didn't have much choice. They had to enter the house. And as soon as they did so we made our move, scurrying over to their empty, waiting car. Four slashes later the tires were flat and we were running for the highway.
I think it is time to revisit the First Line Prompt. Let us all use the following sentence as the opening line to our writing today, and then each of us can take it wherever our inspiration chooses to go:
We watched the police car approach, feeling well-hidden in the shadows which surrounded us.
The new strawberry patch has now been weeded twice and mulched once. I started in on the third round of weeding and second round of mulching this morning (the first three rows are already getting weedy again and pulling them is disturbing enough mulch that it needs to be redone in certain spots). Hopefully these finishing touches don't take too long.
We finally received word today on how much it's going to cost to repair our produce cooler. Let me just say that I'm currently looking into alternative solutions.
Mine:
We watched the police car approach, feeling well-hidden in the shadows which surrounded us. The crunch of the tires rolling over the gravel of the driveway was the only sound as the night watched with bated breath. A southbound cooling breeze sauntered through the scene, unaware of the tension filling me and my brother's bodies.
Christopher's breathing was still shallow and steady, which was a relief. I knew I could depend on him while he remained calm. Once his emotions took over, however, all bets were off.
The car eased to a stop twenty feet from the front door of the house with its engine still running. Christopher and I exchanged silent glances but otherwise remained motionless. Eventually the driver cut the engine and the silence of the night returned swiftly.
I switched the knife from my left hand to my right and beside me Christopher did the same.
Both car doors creaked open at the same time as the cops exited the vehicle. They approached the house warily, each with one hand on his holstered weapon. I licked my lips. Christopher exhaled through his nose, a high pitched whistle that I was certain the cops would hear.
But neither of them so much as glanced in the direction of the bushes we lurked within. They just continued their deliberate advance until they had reached the door. The first officer rapped on the door as the second stepped back and drew his weapon. They remained that way for a full minute but no one answered.
Of course no one answered. My brother and I weren't inside.
At that point the cops didn't have much choice. They had to enter the house. And as soon as they did so we made our move, scurrying over to their empty, waiting car. Four slashes later the tires were flat and we were running for the highway.
Thursday January 22nd, 2015
The exercise:
Too tired to come up with anything else, I bring us back to the First Line Prompt. Use the following as the opening line of your work and then take it from there:
Phil was the kind of guy that everybody in town knew, but that nobody actually seemed to know very well.
Spent the morning colouring, dancing, and playing music with Max. This afternoon Kat needed to go into Penticton so she dropped her boys off at the play cafe for another round of entertainment. I went ahead and purchased a pass, as I think it's safe to say at this point we'll be going often enough to make it worthwhile.
Looking forward to having some time to myself tomorrow to work on writing or photography. It's on the schedule to be writing, but I'm kinda getting into this photography thing.
In case you hadn't noticed.
Mine:
Phil was the kind of guy that everybody in town knew, but that nobody actually seemed to know very well. Like, on a personal level, you know? Sure, everyone was on a first name basis with him, could comfortably shout a Good afternoon! in his direction from across the street, talk endlessly with him about the weather and all that.
But who among us knew his favorite food? His preferred authors and artists? Did he have any family left above ground or had the earth reclaimed them all? What did the inside of his house look like? What, precisely, did he do with all of his spare time?
That last one, though. That was the one I often wondered about. Probably more than was healthy, I'll admit.
I dunno. It's not like I ever thought he was up to something nefarious or nothing like that. Phil just struck me as being rather secretive for someone so often in the public eye. I wondered if that easy smile disappeared once he closed his front door. I wanted to know if he swore like a sailor and drank like a fish in the confines of his own home. What did he have to hide - if anything at all?
I guess I just considered it free entertainment for my bored hours of the day. Never really gave those thoughts any credence, to be honest.
At least not until the night I was awoken by the police banging on my door, asking when I'd last seen our dear old Phil.
Too tired to come up with anything else, I bring us back to the First Line Prompt. Use the following as the opening line of your work and then take it from there:
Phil was the kind of guy that everybody in town knew, but that nobody actually seemed to know very well.
Spent the morning colouring, dancing, and playing music with Max. This afternoon Kat needed to go into Penticton so she dropped her boys off at the play cafe for another round of entertainment. I went ahead and purchased a pass, as I think it's safe to say at this point we'll be going often enough to make it worthwhile.
Looking forward to having some time to myself tomorrow to work on writing or photography. It's on the schedule to be writing, but I'm kinda getting into this photography thing.
In case you hadn't noticed.
Mine:
Phil was the kind of guy that everybody in town knew, but that nobody actually seemed to know very well. Like, on a personal level, you know? Sure, everyone was on a first name basis with him, could comfortably shout a Good afternoon! in his direction from across the street, talk endlessly with him about the weather and all that.
But who among us knew his favorite food? His preferred authors and artists? Did he have any family left above ground or had the earth reclaimed them all? What did the inside of his house look like? What, precisely, did he do with all of his spare time?
That last one, though. That was the one I often wondered about. Probably more than was healthy, I'll admit.
I dunno. It's not like I ever thought he was up to something nefarious or nothing like that. Phil just struck me as being rather secretive for someone so often in the public eye. I wondered if that easy smile disappeared once he closed his front door. I wanted to know if he swore like a sailor and drank like a fish in the confines of his own home. What did he have to hide - if anything at all?
I guess I just considered it free entertainment for my bored hours of the day. Never really gave those thoughts any credence, to be honest.
At least not until the night I was awoken by the police banging on my door, asking when I'd last seen our dear old Phil.
Thursday October 9th, 2014
The exercise:
It's been a while since the First Line Prompt last made an appearance here, so I'm bringing it back for another visit. Use the following line as your opening and then take it wherever inspiration tells you to go:
The playground on South Street was not a friendly, welcoming sort of place.
Inspired by this afternoon's trip to the playground with Max, though only in the loosest possible sense. We hadn't been there in quite some time and he was very excited to get reacquainted with the various pieces of equipment.
It was nice to get there again while the weather is still nice. Will have to make that more of a priority as long as this trend of clear skies and warm temperatures continues.
Mine:
The playground on South Street was not a friendly, welcoming sort of place. Visitors were greeted by a barbed wire fence patrolling the perimeter of the area and the only way in was through a jagged hole that had been cut by only the good lord knows who.
All of the equipment was covered with rust and peeling paint and at least three playsets could be seen peering over the weeds from where they lay in collapsed heaps. The neighbours had obviously been using the place as a landfill for quite some time, judging by the smell.
None of that stopped kids from playing there, of course. At least those whose parents didn't have much interest in their activities outside of their homes - as long as they were out of their hair for a few hours and came home alive, preferably before dark, all was well.
My mom wouldn't let me near the place. Looking back now, it's easy to see the love behind that decision. At the time, though?
I hated her for it.
I mean, how in the world was I going to become one of the cool kids if I wasn't allowed to go to the one place they were guaranteed to be found?
It's been a while since the First Line Prompt last made an appearance here, so I'm bringing it back for another visit. Use the following line as your opening and then take it wherever inspiration tells you to go:
The playground on South Street was not a friendly, welcoming sort of place.
Inspired by this afternoon's trip to the playground with Max, though only in the loosest possible sense. We hadn't been there in quite some time and he was very excited to get reacquainted with the various pieces of equipment.
It was nice to get there again while the weather is still nice. Will have to make that more of a priority as long as this trend of clear skies and warm temperatures continues.
Mine:
The playground on South Street was not a friendly, welcoming sort of place. Visitors were greeted by a barbed wire fence patrolling the perimeter of the area and the only way in was through a jagged hole that had been cut by only the good lord knows who.
All of the equipment was covered with rust and peeling paint and at least three playsets could be seen peering over the weeds from where they lay in collapsed heaps. The neighbours had obviously been using the place as a landfill for quite some time, judging by the smell.
None of that stopped kids from playing there, of course. At least those whose parents didn't have much interest in their activities outside of their homes - as long as they were out of their hair for a few hours and came home alive, preferably before dark, all was well.
My mom wouldn't let me near the place. Looking back now, it's easy to see the love behind that decision. At the time, though?
I hated her for it.
I mean, how in the world was I going to become one of the cool kids if I wasn't allowed to go to the one place they were guaranteed to be found?
Monday May 19th, 2014
The exercise:
We're revisiting the First Line Prompt because I'm too tired to come up with something else. We all get the same opening line and then each of us goes with it wherever inspiration urges us to go.
And our first line shall be: Through the thick veil of fog a figure slowly emerged.
Did a little bit of weeding in the strawberries this morning, but a good chunk of the start of the day was spent getting ready for the potluck BBQ we hosted this evening. It went really well, with a total of ten parents and five children squeezing onto our deck. And spilling into our yard. And the surrounding orchard.
At the end of the night we were chatting with the last couple when their son went around the side of the house to go play in the dirt some more. Max, obviously, soon followed. They were playing together (so friggin' cute) while the parents continued to chat, when all of a sudden the boys apparently decided they needed to go see the tractor.
So that extended the evening by at least twenty minutes.
Anyway, it was a lot of fun. I did up some smokies on the BBQ, Kat made a salad (with our own greens and radishes!), and our guests brought potato salad, pasta salad, rhubarb pie, and peach crisp to share.
Tomorrow morning I get to harvest for our first local orders of the year. Which would be a lot more exciting if I didn't have so much work left to do in the strawberries.
Mine:
Through the thick veil of fog a figure slowly emerged. I couldn't stop myself from taking a step (or five) back, but at least I managed to swallow my scream.
The person shuffled slowly toward me, head down and threadbare coat wrapped tightly around himself. At least, I was beginning to suspect that this newcomer was male. The general outline seemed right, as did the location and timing.
You know, middle of nowhere, on the wrong side of midnight.
Don't ask me what I was doing there, all right? Just... it's a long story, and not the one I wish to tell you right now. Another time, perhaps.
As he came closer his stench grew steadily stronger. I hadn't noticed it at first, what with my preoccupation with keeping my pants unsoiled, but once I detected it I began to wonder if this man was the source of the unnatural haze we found ourselves in.
You think I exaggerate this odor, yes? I wonder how you would describe it, had you been in my shoes. Would you say he smelled unpleasant? Like a garbage bag left out in the sun all day? Worse than rotting, bug infested food scraps? Something like that, I imagine.
What I can say for sure is simply this: to me, he smelled like death.
We're revisiting the First Line Prompt because I'm too tired to come up with something else. We all get the same opening line and then each of us goes with it wherever inspiration urges us to go.
And our first line shall be: Through the thick veil of fog a figure slowly emerged.
Did a little bit of weeding in the strawberries this morning, but a good chunk of the start of the day was spent getting ready for the potluck BBQ we hosted this evening. It went really well, with a total of ten parents and five children squeezing onto our deck. And spilling into our yard. And the surrounding orchard.
At the end of the night we were chatting with the last couple when their son went around the side of the house to go play in the dirt some more. Max, obviously, soon followed. They were playing together (so friggin' cute) while the parents continued to chat, when all of a sudden the boys apparently decided they needed to go see the tractor.
So that extended the evening by at least twenty minutes.
Anyway, it was a lot of fun. I did up some smokies on the BBQ, Kat made a salad (with our own greens and radishes!), and our guests brought potato salad, pasta salad, rhubarb pie, and peach crisp to share.
Tomorrow morning I get to harvest for our first local orders of the year. Which would be a lot more exciting if I didn't have so much work left to do in the strawberries.
Mine:
Through the thick veil of fog a figure slowly emerged. I couldn't stop myself from taking a step (or five) back, but at least I managed to swallow my scream.
The person shuffled slowly toward me, head down and threadbare coat wrapped tightly around himself. At least, I was beginning to suspect that this newcomer was male. The general outline seemed right, as did the location and timing.
You know, middle of nowhere, on the wrong side of midnight.
Don't ask me what I was doing there, all right? Just... it's a long story, and not the one I wish to tell you right now. Another time, perhaps.
As he came closer his stench grew steadily stronger. I hadn't noticed it at first, what with my preoccupation with keeping my pants unsoiled, but once I detected it I began to wonder if this man was the source of the unnatural haze we found ourselves in.
You think I exaggerate this odor, yes? I wonder how you would describe it, had you been in my shoes. Would you say he smelled unpleasant? Like a garbage bag left out in the sun all day? Worse than rotting, bug infested food scraps? Something like that, I imagine.
What I can say for sure is simply this: to me, he smelled like death.
Wednesday December 25th, 2013
The exercise:
The 2013 edition of the Christmas week countdown concludes with writing that begins: Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Mine:
Have yourself a
Merry little Christmas,
With loved ones and
Dearest friends close at hand.
May Santa Claus
Bring you the gifts you need,
And maybe one
Or two that are more grand.
Let the spirit
Of the holidays in;
Take a moment
Or three to soak it up.
And may dinner
Find plenty of food tabled,
And the finest
Drinks swirling in your cup.
The 2013 edition of the Christmas week countdown concludes with writing that begins: Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Mine:
Have yourself a
Merry little Christmas,
With loved ones and
Dearest friends close at hand.
May Santa Claus
Bring you the gifts you need,
And maybe one
Or two that are more grand.
Let the spirit
Of the holidays in;
Take a moment
Or three to soak it up.
And may dinner
Find plenty of food tabled,
And the finest
Drinks swirling in your cup.
Monday December 23rd, 2013
The exercise:
On the eve of Christmas Eve, our writing shall begin with the first line from the Little Drummer Boy: Come they told me
Max has very definitely caught himself a cold. We're doing everything we can for him and he's basically fine during the day. It's just the struggle of sleeping with a congested nose that's the main problem.
On the plus side temperatures were above zero today and I had the chance to play a couple games of Scrabble with my mom tonight. I won the first one by a narrow margin, and then... well, let me just say that she took her revenge in the second.
Mine:
Come they told me. There is glory and fortune to be found at the end of our blades. More drink and food than I could ever imagine. I would have my pick of the finest women in the land.
They made it all sound so grand. Fascinating, isn't it, what can be accomplished through omission.
There was no talk of sleeping outdoors on rainy nights. No word of enemies who struck from unseen locations at unexpected hours, leaving nerves wrecked. I heard nothing about the open wounds, the death of comrades, the nightmares.
The endless nightmares.
Now, here I stand, in some godforsaken meadow, watching the sun rise above the horizon with only dead men and terrified horses for company. Not knowing what happened by the light of the moon. With no direction or destination to guide me from this place.
There was definitely no mention of this.
On the eve of Christmas Eve, our writing shall begin with the first line from the Little Drummer Boy: Come they told me
Max has very definitely caught himself a cold. We're doing everything we can for him and he's basically fine during the day. It's just the struggle of sleeping with a congested nose that's the main problem.
On the plus side temperatures were above zero today and I had the chance to play a couple games of Scrabble with my mom tonight. I won the first one by a narrow margin, and then... well, let me just say that she took her revenge in the second.
Mine:
Come they told me. There is glory and fortune to be found at the end of our blades. More drink and food than I could ever imagine. I would have my pick of the finest women in the land.
They made it all sound so grand. Fascinating, isn't it, what can be accomplished through omission.
There was no talk of sleeping outdoors on rainy nights. No word of enemies who struck from unseen locations at unexpected hours, leaving nerves wrecked. I heard nothing about the open wounds, the death of comrades, the nightmares.
The endless nightmares.
Now, here I stand, in some godforsaken meadow, watching the sun rise above the horizon with only dead men and terrified horses for company. Not knowing what happened by the light of the moon. With no direction or destination to guide me from this place.
There was definitely no mention of this.
Sunday December 22nd, 2013
The exercise:
We're just three days away now. So start today's writing with the opening line from It Came Upon The Midnight Clear which, fittingly enough, is: It came upon the midnight clear
My parents arrived safely this afternoon, so now all of the gang that shall be here is here now. Max had a very busy day of throwing balls around the house and visiting Calgary's indoor farmers market, but unfortunately he seems to be coming down with a cold.
We're all hoping that a decent night's sleep will set him right again.
Mine:
It came upon the midnight clear, emerging from the darkness of the surrounding woods like oil spilling from a punctured barrel. Slithering toward the encampment in the meadow, it blinded the men on guard duty before smothering those who thought themselves watched over. Considered themselves protected. Safe.
The horses stamped their hooves, an action usually resulting in clouds of dust. But none appeared. They swished their tails as they turned their heads this way and that. There can be a sad difference between knowing something is wrong and being able to pinpoint that problem.
They were spared, at least. Unlike all of their masters. Well, not quite all of them.
I do not understand why I was allowed to live.
We're just three days away now. So start today's writing with the opening line from It Came Upon The Midnight Clear which, fittingly enough, is: It came upon the midnight clear
My parents arrived safely this afternoon, so now all of the gang that shall be here is here now. Max had a very busy day of throwing balls around the house and visiting Calgary's indoor farmers market, but unfortunately he seems to be coming down with a cold.
We're all hoping that a decent night's sleep will set him right again.
Mine:
It came upon the midnight clear, emerging from the darkness of the surrounding woods like oil spilling from a punctured barrel. Slithering toward the encampment in the meadow, it blinded the men on guard duty before smothering those who thought themselves watched over. Considered themselves protected. Safe.
The horses stamped their hooves, an action usually resulting in clouds of dust. But none appeared. They swished their tails as they turned their heads this way and that. There can be a sad difference between knowing something is wrong and being able to pinpoint that problem.
They were spared, at least. Unlike all of their masters. Well, not quite all of them.
I do not understand why I was allowed to live.
Thursday December 19th, 2013
The exercise:
Christmas Week, the 2013 version, continues today by requesting that you use the first line of White Christmas as your own. After that you get to take it from there, either in poetry or prose.
As a reminder, in case you need it, the line goes a little something like: I'm dreaming of a white Christmas
We're off to Calgary today to spend the holidays with my sister and her husband. My parents will be joining us on Sunday, at which point I don't expect to see Max again until it's time to come back to Osoyoos.
Speaking of the little man, this will be his very first plane ride. Fingers and toes and all that crossed in the hopes that it is a good one. At least it's only an hour from Kelowna to Calgary, so even if it's rough it won't be excessively long.
Oh, I almost forgot to mention: this is a scheduled post, written Wednesday night. I should be back live on Friday.
Mine:
I'm dreaming of a white Christmas...
"All of the indications we're seeing now are pointing toward snow beginning to fall on the 22nd of December..."
Yes! Perfect!
"... and continuing to whiten our lives, without a single break, until well after the big day!"
Okay, that seems a little much.
"All told, we can expect approximately five feet of snow between now and Christmas."
Um... maybe not quite that white.
Christmas Week, the 2013 version, continues today by requesting that you use the first line of White Christmas as your own. After that you get to take it from there, either in poetry or prose.
As a reminder, in case you need it, the line goes a little something like: I'm dreaming of a white Christmas
We're off to Calgary today to spend the holidays with my sister and her husband. My parents will be joining us on Sunday, at which point I don't expect to see Max again until it's time to come back to Osoyoos.
Speaking of the little man, this will be his very first plane ride. Fingers and toes and all that crossed in the hopes that it is a good one. At least it's only an hour from Kelowna to Calgary, so even if it's rough it won't be excessively long.
Oh, I almost forgot to mention: this is a scheduled post, written Wednesday night. I should be back live on Friday.
Mine:
I'm dreaming of a white Christmas...
"All of the indications we're seeing now are pointing toward snow beginning to fall on the 22nd of December..."
Yes! Perfect!
"... and continuing to whiten our lives, without a single break, until well after the big day!"
Okay, that seems a little much.
"All told, we can expect approximately five feet of snow between now and Christmas."
Um... maybe not quite that white.
Wednesday December 18th, 2013
The exercise:
Now that we're down to just a week left before Christmas, I figured it's time for my nearly yearly countdown to the big day. Back in 2009 I used the title of various Christmas songs and I thought I'd tinker with that just a little bit.
This time around, we're going to be using the first line of my chosen Christmas songs as our prompts. You can connect each day's writing to the next if you wish, but I think I'll have to pass on that again this year. Disappointing, as I've always enjoyed those week long stories. Perhaps I'll make up for it by doing a theme week early in the new year.
Either way, the first opening line for us to use as our own comes from Silver Bells:
Silver bells, silver bells, it's Christmas time in the city
Mine:
Silver bells, silver bells, it's Christmas time in the city. The copper chimes have been covered up and put away, the golden gongs retired for this year. Silver notes alone fill these streets, echoing from house to house.
All day and all night, in the warmth of the sun and mirroring the moon, the bells ring on. Relentless and unstoppable, the church towers vibrating with their music. Spreading Christmas spirit to every corner of this town, from richest to poorest and back again.
Or so they claim.
Me? I say we'll all be completely mad by the time they finally silence the silver bells once more.
Now that we're down to just a week left before Christmas, I figured it's time for my nearly yearly countdown to the big day. Back in 2009 I used the title of various Christmas songs and I thought I'd tinker with that just a little bit.
This time around, we're going to be using the first line of my chosen Christmas songs as our prompts. You can connect each day's writing to the next if you wish, but I think I'll have to pass on that again this year. Disappointing, as I've always enjoyed those week long stories. Perhaps I'll make up for it by doing a theme week early in the new year.
Either way, the first opening line for us to use as our own comes from Silver Bells:
Silver bells, silver bells, it's Christmas time in the city
Mine:
Silver bells, silver bells, it's Christmas time in the city. The copper chimes have been covered up and put away, the golden gongs retired for this year. Silver notes alone fill these streets, echoing from house to house.
All day and all night, in the warmth of the sun and mirroring the moon, the bells ring on. Relentless and unstoppable, the church towers vibrating with their music. Spreading Christmas spirit to every corner of this town, from richest to poorest and back again.
Or so they claim.
Me? I say we'll all be completely mad by the time they finally silence the silver bells once more.
Sunday November 24th, 2013
The exercise:
I figure it has been long enough since the last time I used it (plus I'm fresh out of prompt ideas at the moment), so we're making use of the first line prompt today.
We all get the same opening line, but each of us shall take it in a direction of our choosing. If that's as hideous a description as I think it is, feel free to click on the label at the end of the post to see how previous installments have gone.
Our first line this time shall be: Congratulations, you have won a free, one-way trip to Mars!
Bowled in a team pins over average tournament at the alley this afternoon. I'm happy to report that I did my part in the three games, finishing at +104. The other four guys on my team had a little less luck but that's all right - I despise letting my team down, so I was just pleased that our less than ideal result was not my fault.
That sounds rather silly, now that I've typed it out.
Mine:
Congratulations, you have won a free, one-way trip to Mars!
"What in the...?" Albert glanced up from the letter just long enough to make sure no one in the coffee shop was watching before continuing on.
We have been keeping close tabs on you in recent months and believe that you are a perfect candidate for this voyage. Having been without a job long enough that you are, essentially, unemployable...
"Oi!"
... and having no skills or knowledge which might lead to the opening of your own business (not to mention a complete lack of motivation to do so)...
"That's taking it a bit far!"
... you are ideally situated to leave this planet behind with no regrets whatsoever! Toss in the fact that you're fresh off your girlfriend dumping you...
"It was mutual! Sort of."
... on Valentine's Day...
"Unlucky coincidence, that was!"
... via text message and honestly, what could possibly be keeping you here? And, just for the record, we had nothing to do with the termination of that relationship. Just because her new boyfriend works for our company...
"He what?"
... and had been assigned to your case for the preceding six weeks, that doesn't mean it was planned, or that we had a hand in how things concluded between you and the lovely young lady. It's all circumstantial, really.
"You sons of..."
At any rate, please do get back to us with your response as soon as possible! There are a limited number of seats on this flight and we'd hate for you to miss out simply because you were too slow in replying!
Looking forward to hearing from you soon,
NASA
I figure it has been long enough since the last time I used it (plus I'm fresh out of prompt ideas at the moment), so we're making use of the first line prompt today.
We all get the same opening line, but each of us shall take it in a direction of our choosing. If that's as hideous a description as I think it is, feel free to click on the label at the end of the post to see how previous installments have gone.
Our first line this time shall be: Congratulations, you have won a free, one-way trip to Mars!
Bowled in a team pins over average tournament at the alley this afternoon. I'm happy to report that I did my part in the three games, finishing at +104. The other four guys on my team had a little less luck but that's all right - I despise letting my team down, so I was just pleased that our less than ideal result was not my fault.
That sounds rather silly, now that I've typed it out.
Mine:
Congratulations, you have won a free, one-way trip to Mars!
"What in the...?" Albert glanced up from the letter just long enough to make sure no one in the coffee shop was watching before continuing on.
We have been keeping close tabs on you in recent months and believe that you are a perfect candidate for this voyage. Having been without a job long enough that you are, essentially, unemployable...
"Oi!"
... and having no skills or knowledge which might lead to the opening of your own business (not to mention a complete lack of motivation to do so)...
"That's taking it a bit far!"
... you are ideally situated to leave this planet behind with no regrets whatsoever! Toss in the fact that you're fresh off your girlfriend dumping you...
"It was mutual! Sort of."
... on Valentine's Day...
"Unlucky coincidence, that was!"
... via text message and honestly, what could possibly be keeping you here? And, just for the record, we had nothing to do with the termination of that relationship. Just because her new boyfriend works for our company...
"He what?"
... and had been assigned to your case for the preceding six weeks, that doesn't mean it was planned, or that we had a hand in how things concluded between you and the lovely young lady. It's all circumstantial, really.
"You sons of..."
At any rate, please do get back to us with your response as soon as possible! There are a limited number of seats on this flight and we'd hate for you to miss out simply because you were too slow in replying!
Looking forward to hearing from you soon,
NASA
Wednesday August 14th, 2013
The exercise:
We're going back to the first line prompt today, so use the following as your opening sentence and then take it where you will:
This pursuit is destroying me.
Harvested a ridiculous amount of tomatoes for the restaurant this morning. I think I ended up with 23 pounds of heirlooms and 12 pounds of beefsteak - plus the bakery wanted 6 pounds of cherry tomatoes as well.
Tomorrow should be a relatively quiet day before we return to harvesting on Friday as we prepare for another market.
I am so behind on replying to comments. My apologies. I will get to them, eventually.
Mine:
This pursuit is destroying me. The never-ending paranoia, a constant urge to look over my shoulder, at every new face that enters my vicinity. Nights filled with too-short snippets of sleep, always waking panicked in unfamiliar environs.
I don't know how much longer I can do this. Days, maybe. Weeks at the very most.
A safe haven, that's what I need. Somewhere I can stay, be at peace, rest a while. Get my feet under me again, breath back in my lungs. Recover.
I am beginning to fear, however, that such a place does not exist for men such as myself.
We're going back to the first line prompt today, so use the following as your opening sentence and then take it where you will:
This pursuit is destroying me.
Harvested a ridiculous amount of tomatoes for the restaurant this morning. I think I ended up with 23 pounds of heirlooms and 12 pounds of beefsteak - plus the bakery wanted 6 pounds of cherry tomatoes as well.
Tomorrow should be a relatively quiet day before we return to harvesting on Friday as we prepare for another market.
I am so behind on replying to comments. My apologies. I will get to them, eventually.
Mine:
This pursuit is destroying me. The never-ending paranoia, a constant urge to look over my shoulder, at every new face that enters my vicinity. Nights filled with too-short snippets of sleep, always waking panicked in unfamiliar environs.
I don't know how much longer I can do this. Days, maybe. Weeks at the very most.
A safe haven, that's what I need. Somewhere I can stay, be at peace, rest a while. Get my feet under me again, breath back in my lungs. Recover.
I am beginning to fear, however, that such a place does not exist for men such as myself.
Sunday February 17th, 2013
The exercise:
I felt the urge to use the first line prompt today, so I'm just going to go with it. Use the following line as your opener and then take it from there:
It didn't take long for me to realize that I should have stayed home that night.
Mine:
It didn't take long for me to realize that I should have stayed home that night. The invitation would have been impossible to resist, even if I'd known ahead of time what lay in store for me... but a little warning wouldn't have gone amiss.
The cloudburst that caught me crossing Tenth Avenue failed to send me crawling back to my apartment, but did succeed in making me wish I'd chosen a dress that at least thought about reaching below my knees. At least it was black. That was something, I suppose.
That bug-infested washroom in the gas station at Eighth and Monroe should have put an early end to my evening. If only it hadn't contained just enough paper towel to dry my hair.
I almost managed to reach the party before snapping off one of my high heels in a crack in the sidewalk. Attempts at breaking the other one at approximately the same level resulted in the cheap piece of crap nearly tearing in two.
So I walked through the door barefoot, praying that everyone else would be too high society to look down their noses all the way to the ground.
And that was when I saw Richard, my ex-husband.
I felt the urge to use the first line prompt today, so I'm just going to go with it. Use the following line as your opener and then take it from there:
It didn't take long for me to realize that I should have stayed home that night.
Mine:
It didn't take long for me to realize that I should have stayed home that night. The invitation would have been impossible to resist, even if I'd known ahead of time what lay in store for me... but a little warning wouldn't have gone amiss.
The cloudburst that caught me crossing Tenth Avenue failed to send me crawling back to my apartment, but did succeed in making me wish I'd chosen a dress that at least thought about reaching below my knees. At least it was black. That was something, I suppose.
That bug-infested washroom in the gas station at Eighth and Monroe should have put an early end to my evening. If only it hadn't contained just enough paper towel to dry my hair.
I almost managed to reach the party before snapping off one of my high heels in a crack in the sidewalk. Attempts at breaking the other one at approximately the same level resulted in the cheap piece of crap nearly tearing in two.
So I walked through the door barefoot, praying that everyone else would be too high society to look down their noses all the way to the ground.
And that was when I saw Richard, my ex-husband.
Sunday December 2nd, 2012
The exercise:
We haven't done the first line prompt in a while. Have we? Hold on, let me check.
October 3rd was the last time. That seems like a reasonable amount of time between uses.
So! The first line prompt it is. We all get the same opening line, then each of us takes it wherever we wish. Poetry, prose, whatever.
Here's our line: The children's safe haven was underground, in the winding tunnels that lurked beneath the city.
Ran out of decking, so until we get more we'll have about a four foot gap between the front section and side section of the deck. I imagine Greg will suggest to leave it as is, perhaps even cover it with sticks and leaves to turn it into a trap for unwanted visitors.
Mine:
The children's safe haven was underground, in the winding tunnels that lurked beneath the city. It was only there that they felt safe. It was there that they could retreat to when the situation above ground became too dangerous. It was there that they hid from the Sunwalkers, each advance countered by a hasty withdrawal.
At first the combination of the stench of sewage and the lack of light caused them to linger near openings to the surface. The Sunwalkers did not take long to figure this out, and so the children retreated deeper.
Each child carries a map of the tunnels so that they may find their way back to the city streets, once it is safe to do so. Every intersection has been labelled in their secret code, so that no tiny foot should suffer a misstep.
No Sunwalker has ever held an accurate map in his hands, though they have discovered a multitude of inaccurate ones. The tunnels echo with laughter each time a Sunwalker is foolish enough to believe he has found a misplaced diagram. Most of them never see the sky again. It has reached the point now that they wouldn't trust an authentic map if one did fall into their clutches.
The Sunwalkers are aware of this. Meetings are being held, plans put in place. They know that if they can navigate the tunnels the children will have no hope of survival. They are intent on finding a solution and will not rest until they have one.
The children are equally aware of all this. So they watch. And they wait. And they make plans of their own.
And so the dance continues.
We haven't done the first line prompt in a while. Have we? Hold on, let me check.
October 3rd was the last time. That seems like a reasonable amount of time between uses.
So! The first line prompt it is. We all get the same opening line, then each of us takes it wherever we wish. Poetry, prose, whatever.
Here's our line: The children's safe haven was underground, in the winding tunnels that lurked beneath the city.
Ran out of decking, so until we get more we'll have about a four foot gap between the front section and side section of the deck. I imagine Greg will suggest to leave it as is, perhaps even cover it with sticks and leaves to turn it into a trap for unwanted visitors.
Mine:
The children's safe haven was underground, in the winding tunnels that lurked beneath the city. It was only there that they felt safe. It was there that they could retreat to when the situation above ground became too dangerous. It was there that they hid from the Sunwalkers, each advance countered by a hasty withdrawal.
At first the combination of the stench of sewage and the lack of light caused them to linger near openings to the surface. The Sunwalkers did not take long to figure this out, and so the children retreated deeper.
Each child carries a map of the tunnels so that they may find their way back to the city streets, once it is safe to do so. Every intersection has been labelled in their secret code, so that no tiny foot should suffer a misstep.
No Sunwalker has ever held an accurate map in his hands, though they have discovered a multitude of inaccurate ones. The tunnels echo with laughter each time a Sunwalker is foolish enough to believe he has found a misplaced diagram. Most of them never see the sky again. It has reached the point now that they wouldn't trust an authentic map if one did fall into their clutches.
The Sunwalkers are aware of this. Meetings are being held, plans put in place. They know that if they can navigate the tunnels the children will have no hope of survival. They are intent on finding a solution and will not rest until they have one.
The children are equally aware of all this. So they watch. And they wait. And they make plans of their own.
And so the dance continues.
Wednesday October 3rd, 2012
The exercise:
Let us give the First Line prompt another go. Start your poetry or prose with: Under the cover of darkness...
So there's a pretty decent chance we'll get our first frost tonight. With that in mind, I went out this afternoon and harvested our remaining onions and shallots, the biggest cucumbers I could find, the best peppers our plants had to offer, and a giant bag of stir-fry greens (for our own use).
I'm hoping our garden will avoid the worst of it and keep on producing, but at least some of the more tender stuff was saved. We'll see what the morning brings.
Mine:
Under the cover of darkness, they approached on silent feet. Moving as though a single brain operated all of their limbs, the men and women soon had the house surrounded. When they were within twenty feet of the building they eased to a halt without any apparent commands being issued.
And there they waited.
The forest watched them for a while before losing interest. The stars took note of their presence, then conferred amongst themselves at length. Just as they reached an agreement to continue monitoring the situation, an apparently oblivious breeze pushed a thick layer of cloud between the watchers and the watched.
And so the darkness in the woods deepened.
A chill slipped through an open window and ran carelessly through the house. Some of those inside were sensitive enough to feel it and became suspicious, hands moving to weapons. Others, those less attuned to such warnings, continued with their tasks, or their meals, or their sleep.
And so, as one, the men and women in the woods descended upon them.
Let us give the First Line prompt another go. Start your poetry or prose with: Under the cover of darkness...
So there's a pretty decent chance we'll get our first frost tonight. With that in mind, I went out this afternoon and harvested our remaining onions and shallots, the biggest cucumbers I could find, the best peppers our plants had to offer, and a giant bag of stir-fry greens (for our own use).
I'm hoping our garden will avoid the worst of it and keep on producing, but at least some of the more tender stuff was saved. We'll see what the morning brings.
Mine:
Under the cover of darkness, they approached on silent feet. Moving as though a single brain operated all of their limbs, the men and women soon had the house surrounded. When they were within twenty feet of the building they eased to a halt without any apparent commands being issued.
And there they waited.
The forest watched them for a while before losing interest. The stars took note of their presence, then conferred amongst themselves at length. Just as they reached an agreement to continue monitoring the situation, an apparently oblivious breeze pushed a thick layer of cloud between the watchers and the watched.
And so the darkness in the woods deepened.
A chill slipped through an open window and ran carelessly through the house. Some of those inside were sensitive enough to feel it and became suspicious, hands moving to weapons. Others, those less attuned to such warnings, continued with their tasks, or their meals, or their sleep.
And so, as one, the men and women in the woods descended upon them.
Monday March 12th, 2012
The exercise:
It's been less than a month since last time, but I felt inspired to bring around the first line prompt again.
So take the opening line I provide and then go with it where you will, be it poetry or prose. Ready? Here we go:
There's a ghost wind blowing...
Mine:
There's a ghost wind blowin',
Givin' voices to the trees;
I can hear them talkin',
Yeah they're talkin' to me.
George is in the cherry,
Old Rosie's in the pine,
Wishin' they got married
When they still had the time.
The willow is cryin',
Must be my Grandma Sue -
Spent her whole life lyin'
To save a face or two.
The ash is dear Andrew,
Callin' out for a smoke,
And sweet gentle Matthew,
Well surely he's the oak.
The ghost wind keeps blowin',
Givin' voices to these trees;
Please don't you stop talkin',
Yeah keep talkin' to me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)