Sammi Cox is running a writing challenge over on her blog sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/: A Month of Mini Writing Challenges.
She provides a prompt for every day in September; participants can interpret the prompt any way they like. All the prompts are posted. Go take a look and join in. Everyone is welcome.
I’m hopelessly behind with reading and commenting, I’m sorry. I’ll get to it this weekend, I hope.
Here come my answers to the prompts for days seventeen to twenty-two.
September 17 – Write a story in less than 50 words inspired by the theme “unseen”.
The power is whispered about.
September 18 – The prompt is “a letter”. The format and length are your choice.
I know you don’t want to see me nor hear from me again, but you are the only person I trust. That’s why I’m writing this to you—maybe you’ll never read it, but I don’t care. Writing helps keeping me sane, helps me realize that I’m in trouble, deep trouble, and that I need help.
You won’t help me, I know that. But for old times sake, if you decide to read this after all, please give me the benefit of the doubt and know that I’ve always loved you regardless of what my actions in the past may have looked like.
I’m certain that you think I should seek professional help. Would you believe me if I told you that I did? Only, it wasn’t really me, it was a dream. The therapist listened, asked a few questions, and then prescribed drugs. How is that supposed to help? Just a dream, you say, real therapists are different. Then why, I ask you, were the drugs on my night table when I woke up?
Two nights ago I dreamt I was a woman. It was the weirdest feeling, but also wonderful. Knowing me as only you do, you probably think that I spent all day exploring my female parts… but I didn’t have time for that. Besides, while it felt slightly weird, it never felt unreal. At that time I was that woman. I slipped into her high-heeled boots, swayed my hips, and walked for miles as if I’d never done anything else. I also hid her assortment of daggers, guns, and poisons on my—her—body. And then I killed someone: cleanly, secretly, without anger, in a very business-like fashion.
Yesterday morning—you guessed it—the papers were full with the news about the assassination of the fake emperor. There also was a heavy envelope in my mailbox. I don’t know what’s in it, I didn’t dare open it. I put it in my desk drawer as proof that my dreams aren’t what they seem to be.
Last night my dreams got mixed up. I was three people at once and made a spectacle of myself. I threatened to kill the regent general and cursed and cried, acting like a madman—but at the same time I knew what I was doing. I was myself, and not myself. I was in my own body and in three bodies at once.
It will come as no surprise to you that I was arrested. And then they searched my apartment. They found the envelope and the weapons I used when I was that woman assassin and didn’t even remember I—she—had hidden in my kitchen cabinets.
There were interrogations, not the most pleasant experience I ever had, believe me. I couldn’t tell my tormentors anything, only that I don’t know what’s happening to me. They said they’d let me go if I told them the whole story, but I don’t believe them. I think I’m history. I’m waiting for these rumoured footsteps in the dark. I bribed a guard to smuggle the letter out. I just thought you might want to know.
September 19 – It’s night. You’re asleep. You hear a loud crash close by. What happens next? Tell us in less than 100 words.
|The loud crash woke me up. A raid? A woman can hope.
I’ve been in here for twenty days. They need another three of us before we’ll all be sacrificed.Savages!
They call themselves enlightened, and yet they feed us to the dragons.
The noise comes closer, my ears are pressed to the door. There is fighting out there, I’m sure of it. Another loud crash shakes the building. I get hurled back. My mother’s face smiles down at me.
“Mum?” She fades into blackness.
“Here’s another one. Get her out. You’re free now, girl…”
September 20 – Write a poem inspired by mythology or a mythological creature in less than 20 lines — had to be another Haiku.
|A tree with roots
To the heart of the universe.
Yggdrasil I am.(Or maybe Yoda?)
September 21 – Write a story in 25 words about an animal.
|Pedigree flawless, he was pampered while being a champion and discarded when he got old. Sarah found him. At last he’s a happy ‘my dog.’|
September 22 – Write a 50 word story that uses the words: havoc, redemption and change.
|Things had to change.
His faked decency, his regard for this species: all for show. But this would end now. His redemption was coming.
Blocking the defence grid with his security code was just the start. When the invasion fleet came, he flexed his knuckles. Time to wreak some havoc.
There you have it. Next in the series: more kitchen prose and gutter rhymes…