Writing Prompt – May 4, 2010

QuoteSnack offers fresh quotes daily, attributed and linked to a confirmed, published source. In addition, I’ll sometimes post a writing prompt with simple instructions. The next post will be a quote that has something to do with the prompt, so you can take a peek at differences or similarities in how someone else relates to using the same words.

There is no wrong approach. Don’t worry if something seems to be a lot more emotionally charged than it is on the surface, or if some prompts are duds for you. This is a mind-opening exercise; anything is possible.

The Prompt


  1. Be ready to write, word processor open, or pad and pencil in hand. Set a timer for five minutes.
  2. Clear your mind.
  3. Click “Reveal Writing Prompt” below, and look at the prompt for the space of one deep, quiet breath.
  4. As you start the second breath, clear your mind of expectations.
  5. Write, full on, whatever comes to you, for five minutes. Do not stop to correct anything – just go.
  6. When the time is up, you have to stop.
  7. Get up and wiggle. Move. Laugh. Growl. Pat self on back.

You’re welcome to leave comments about the experience and anything that comes of it, including links or even your entire prompt-generated exercise. However, please don’t look at any comments until after finishing your own writing. What you’re doing right now is a personal thing.

| More

5 Responses to “Writing Prompt – May 4, 2010”

  1. Shelli Says:

    The way I’m writing it is the only way it happened. I’m not going to soften the blow or camouflage it in pretty pink prose. I think stark truths should be told starkly.

    I would like to say it began innocently enough, but I don’t believe that is true. I think Henry was looking for a dog to kick before he even walked into the yard. Scott just happened to be the right dog at the wrong time.

    Scott tried to stand up to him, for once. I have to admire him for that. Henry started in teasing him about the grease stains on his shirt. Scott said maybe if Henry tried working once in awhile he wouldn’t be so frightened of a little dirt. It didn’t help that a titter went through the crowd. Henry grew red in the face and shoved him to the ground. Scott’s shirt ripped; dark mud stains were added to the black grease.

    Scott snapped. I don’t think even he recognized what he was doing. He jumped up and slammed into Henry so fast, it caught him off balance. Henry hit his head hard on the sidewalk next to the yard. Scott jumped on him before he could react. He knelt on Henry’s chest, took Henry’s head between his two rough hands, and began banging, banging, banging it against the concrete. I saw a small rivlet of blood spread towards the gutter, and I screamed.

  2. Kim Says:

    I first noticed him at work. He seemed like a normal analyst, focused, driven and very quiet. While others chit chatted, he curved over his paperwork on his desk like a snail wrapped in a shell. I brought him his paper work, files, and reports and he always said Thanks, then he was back to his work, again curving over it. His eyes darted up and down, up to me, then back to the paperwork. I knew it was against the ‘rules’ to bother the analysts, so I left him alone. His fingers typed viciously against the key board, his head bobbing up and down to the computer screen. A real hard worker. Then he’d leave and go home, only to come back again.
    Yeah, I know what you’re thinking; he’s just another analyst no different from the thousands of other analysts in the world. So what makes this one different? Well, here’s the difference. One day, HE was in the kitchen making some coffee, hot coffee. Nothing strange about that, I know. But this analyst drank the coffee from the pot. Yeap, that’s right, straight from the pot. HOT. COFFEE. Without blinking or whelping, or dropping the pot. As if it was water. Cool Water. A few brown droplets trailed down his throat and onto his shirt. I quickly ducked out of the room. I didn’t want him to see me. I decided to keep this bit of info to my self. Who would believe me anyway? But I kept a close eye on this weirdo.

    And weirdo he is. I had to drop off an important file to his office. He had to have it now, like five minutes ago. But his door was shut. The rule is you don’t open the door if it’s shut. Now mind you, I’m not an eavesdropper, I don’t listen in to conversations especially those annoying people who have to talk on cell phones while standing in the Wal-Mart aisles. I ignore them with ease as I compare prices. But this time, I had to listen to the door. So I made sure no one was looking and I gently, carefully laid my ear to the door. That’s when I heard it. Not English or Spanish or some other kind of Ishish, but clicks, and grunts coming from HIM. I leaned more into the door, more clicks of the tongue and deep throaty noises. I pulled away and stared at the brown wood. Why in the world would he use clicking noises instead of English? Or whatever language? Now I do know that some Africans use clicking sounds in their languages, but he didn’t seem African. Plus didn’t he say he was from North somewhere? I’m assuming Canada. But what Canadians use clicking sounds?

    Again, I kept my findings to myself. I would get in trouble with HR if I told about my spying on a colleague, especially one who was higher up in the food chain. But I’ve been watching him, carefully. I even found a way to hack into his emails. It’s so interesting what an admin can do with one’s emails. Anyway, the emails seemed normal, but yet there would be one or two that seemed, well, off in away. He would write things like, the hen is in the chicken house or the hen has been laying eggs today. The hen??? What hen? We have no hens at this firm. And I do have his home address; it’s not on a farm but in one of those fancy high end studio apartments. The ones us lowly admins can’t afford. Like I would want one of those anyway. Back to my story.

    I got to talking to some folks online about this guy and told him about his bizarre behavior and what I had found. Some laughed; others asked why I was spying on him. Why was I spying? Are they serious? Wouldn’t you spy on him? I bet you would. Anyway, one guy referred me to this group on the internet. Wearenotalone.com. It’s one those UFO Alien groups who claim aliens are here on earth. I know what you’re thinking. This is insane. But who’s insane? Me or them? Or you or HIM? I told them about my co-worker and they told me he was an alien from another planet. Stop rolling your eyes!! They have proof that they exist, documented proof. Pictures and documents from the Pentagon. Obama knows this stuff but he refuses to acknowledge it. They say it’s part of his ‘new change’ that he chanted in his elections. His ‘new change’ will be turning us into THEM. They asked me to send them a copy of my co-worker’s emails, which I did. They explained to me that the ‘hen house’ was verbiage to space ships. So I Google ‘hen house’, I found thousands of references to it, all meaning Space Men. In fact Google ‘Obama and hen house’, see what you find. Thousands of references. Thousands of codes. HIS codes. The New Change.

    So what did they want me to do with all of this? Just watch him, my co-worker that is, not Obama, for more signs of Alien tendencies. Like the time he bit into a sandwich and left a light green smudge on the bread. That’s alien saliva. Or the time he read a large thick book in five minutes, the whole thing, mind you. Still think I’m nuts? Who will be laughing last? You, when the aliens finally take over and turn you into their slaves? Or me, safe with the other Alien hunters in our bunkers in the mountains? You decide.

  3. E. A. Able Says:

    “But what Canadians use clicking sounds? ”

    ROFLOL Kim! 🙂

  4. A Writer's Love » You Decide. Says:

    […]   I actually got this from http://quotesnack.com/writing-prompt/writing-prompt-may-4-2010/comment-page-1/#comment-4832 It’s a website that posts writing prompts.  Like there are really space aliens out there.  […]

  5. Kim Says:

    you’d be surprised!! :)))

Leave a Reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.