Posted in Writing Prompts

Prompts Just Don’t Work for Me

I am done with the writing prompts. I would prefer to come up with my own original ideas and prompts only to serve to pressure me. Sure they serve a purpose –  and to be honest, they have forced me to write when I could not find the motivation or the words.

I am still pushing for the 365 days of writing, but I’m headed out on my own, now. I may get behind sometimes, but I am determined to catch up.

Wish me luck!

Posted in Writing Prompts

Hell on Earth

9th prompt of 365 days of writing: You’re locked in a room with your greatest fear. Describe what’s in the room.

hell-on-earthThe room is filled with unfamiliar furniture and strange pictures hang on the wall. Who are those people smiling out at me? What is this place and why am I here?

I search my mind to find an answer and all that is there is a jumbled mess of vague figures. Some are laughing, some are serious, some are crying, and some are shouting words to me that I cannot make out.

Am I in a dream?

“Wake up!”, I scream, “Wake up!”

I slap my face and shake my head. My hair gets in my eyes and I brush it out of my face.

I try to open the door and realize I have already tried.

I turn around and see that the room is filled with strange furniture and there are pictures hanging on the wall. Who are those people? What is this place? Why am I here?

I stop and look around and see a mirror. I hurry to it and look at the reflection.

Who is that woman staring back at me?

There is a couch behind me and I hurry to it and lay on my back, trying to gather my thoughts. Am I dreaming?

I can’t be dreaming, because all I want to do is sleep. I drift off slowly and then I am awake.

I look around. There are unfamiliar photos hanging on the wall.

There is noise at the door and then a man walks in. I run to the other side of the room and cower down.

“Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me!”

He says that it is okay and I should come with him. Strangely, I feel comforted by his voice and I follow him back to the couch. He sits beside me and reaches out to hold my hand.

Studying his face, I see tears in his eyes.

“I love you, baby.”

I’m looking around a strange room. There are strange pictures on the walls. There is a man beside me and he wants to hold my hand.

Am I in a nightmare?

I begin to scream and continue screaming until he pulls me close and holds me in his arms. I am strangely comforted by his arms around me.

“Ssshhh”, he whispers, “Ssshh…”

I wake up in an unfamiliar place and photos of people I don’t know are on the walls…



Posted in Writing Prompts

A Philosophy of Completion

Jan 8 Writing Prompt: Tell us about a teacher who had a real impact on your life, either for the better or the worse. How is your life different today because of him or her?

The following is fiction:

I began my freshman year in high school with an attitude of indifference. I did not care if I was in school or not, but my parents said I had to graduate, so I shrugged my shoulders and I went. study

It wasn’t that I hated school and I had always been a good student. I had lost interest in being one of those people who followed along and adopted the way of life of everyone else. I loved to read. I started reading early in life and I had been voracious in my reading habits. I had already experienced the false history taught in elementary and middle school.  The idea of “proper” grammar had changed three times by the time I left junior high. Math was the one subject in which I did not excel.

Looking back, I would describe myself as a philosophical person. My philosophy toward math beyond the basics was that it was unnecessary for anyone who did not pursue a career that involved math.

I trudged into my first class on the first day of school with the determination to do the work as I had been instructed to do. Halfway through the first chapter of my science book, I began to daydream. My daydreams were much more interesting than the classification of insects. So I turned the page in my notebook and instead of taking science notes, I filled the page with brainstorming about the ridiculous nature of the educational system.

And the teacher caught me.  Yes, I was indifferent to school, but the last thing I wanted was to be in trouble. My teacher saw the horror on my face and let me off easy.

Instead of notifying my parents or ordering detention, she demanded that I write an essay based on the notes I had taken on the state of education. I had to do it over the weekend. That was the one thing that I must accomplish to keep her from telling my mother.

What did my brainstorms have to do with science? I never figured it out.

She caught me several times more during that year and I was given an assignment for each and every one of what she called my “independent studies”. My assignments included two essays, two slideshow presentations, a five minute video,  and a full demographic chart.

That was 15 years ago. Today, I am recording my thoughts on my notepad while riding in a taxi on my way to work.  

I am a successful movie producer, and as far as I’m concerned, I would not be where I am today if it were not for a science teacher who pushed me to explore my thoughts, find solutions to problems, and explain them in a variety of ways.

One science teacher made all the difference.