I'm back! Well, just for a couple of guest posts to allow Renee to enjoy herself. So we're at the end of the week, and that means we get a chance to explore two new writing prompts, courtesy of our prompt-guru Comicfan. I think you'll like these - I know I can't wait to see what people come up with. But when you do - share it with the rest of the community in the Writing Prompt forum!

Prompt 320 – Creative
Tag – The Drought
Your town is suffering through the worst drought that it has ever known. It is going on two years without a single drop and nothing is growing. The once lush lawns and forests are dry kindling. The businesses have slowly closed and the town is looking like it might soon just vanish beneath the blowing dust. You might know a way to finally make it rain, but you know it will come at a cost. What do you have to do?

Prompt 321 – Creative
Tag – List of Words
Use the following words in a story – a cactus, a hedgehog, a broken clock, a Band-Aid, and a computer.

One really interesting use of last week's prompts came from Ron, who took Prompt 318 (first line) and came up with The Goodbye Garden:

"I've wanted to do that since . . . forever."

 

"What's that?" I called out. I tried making it sound as if I was interested but truthfully, I wanted to groan the words; Brian had a habit—or rather, a long history—of not pursuing projects once having begun them. I suspected this was going to be yet another of those pursuits. Although, if I was to be honest, a project completed or otherwise would be preferable to his other, more recent and painful activity.

 

"Gardening, Tommy."

 

He stood in the kitchen doorway, too handsome for his own good, and probably too handsome for mine. I held up a finger and finished the bite of bagel before washing it down with my morning cup of mocha-java.

 

"Gardening? I moved to the city to avoid gardens, Brian. That's part of the reason I bought the condo." Getting close to gardens of any sizable area involved working through an unavoidable feeling of apprehension before I could step into them. I felt they were better dodged than attempted.

 

Brian offered me an uneven smile and an off-side turn of the head. "I know. Your mom told me why. She also told me not to bring it up, that you would be . . . difficult about it."

 

"Really! When did you two have this discussion about me?" I was not going to be difficult.

 

"A couple of years ago." He paused. "Don't look at me like that." The huff behind his words could almost be heard, it was that palpable. "I tried to broach the subject with you before, but you cut me off, so I asked your mother. You should have talked to me."

 

I heard the implied meaning behind the word, before; its meaning meant—more than a few times. But going missing for fourteen months as a child was disturbing, and not to remember what happened . . . Except for the memories I have from being told the story, nothing remained of that time spent missing, that time was gone for me. Disappeared. Brian and I have been together for six years, and he was right, and maybe he had every right to know the story. I should have offered some explanation for being so taciturn—before he had to ask and hear the story from someone else, even my mother.

Here you can see the rest of this response, as well as a link to an earlier prompt response involving Tommy.
Enjoy!