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Here's part two of my language learning app prompts. I wasn't going to do more of these, but after reading @wildone's take on PT Prompt #134, I had to after seeing another lesson mention underwear. PT Prompt #141 - First line "No, you aren't allowed to put on my underwear." PT Prompt #142 - First line "Your dad always steals my sausages." Check out Wildone's response to PT Prompt #134 here. Maybe we can encourage him to write a sequel! Please include the prompt number either in your story/chapter description or title to help readers who would like to search for specific prompts. Also, please remember that stories less than one thousand words must be posted as part of a collection If you check the subgenre 'prompt' in your story tags, then people/readers can find everything here: https://gayauthors.org/stories/browse/subgenre/prompt/

INTRODUCTION During my brief time here at GA, I’ve noticed that a number of authors have ventured into writing poetry pieces, which have often been very powerful in terms of emotion and rhythm. However, I haven’t seen much variation in set form. In an earlier life, I took some poetry classes. I enjoyed the chance to play with some of the techniques and structures that are available to poets as frameworks for the thoughts and emotions they wish to express: internal rhyme, broken meter, pantoums, sestinas, sonnets, and so on. Sometimes the experience was horribly frustrating, other times it was inspiring, sometimes it focused my thoughts, other times it kept pulling out new ideas… but it was always a mental workout and I usually felt afterward as if I were in better control of both my prose and my poetry. Sometimes I even got a decent poem out of the deal. I was talking with AC Benus about this in June, and we agreed that as we are both form nerds, we would love to co-chair a set of prompts based on poetry forms. Renee has kindly given her consent for us to use this forum. Every once in a while we’ll toss out a poetry form that one of us knows and likes, sometimes with a required subject, sometimes without. As forbidding as some of the structures can seem, they don’t have to be. We’ll treat it like putting a toy on a table, and we hope that other authors and editors at GA will feel like picking up each form and playing with it a bit… and maybe even publishing a poem based on that structure. So that’s from me, and here is the v. erudite AC Benus to write the very first poetry prompt. AC, take it away….. *** Poetry Prompt 1 – Tanka Let's Write a Tanka! A what..? I know, I can hear you asking what a Tanka is. When Irri first suggested combining forces to create poetry prompts with the idea of promoting verse in set form (that is, not 'free-form'), she floated the idea of Haiku. I too thought as much, but I knew that there could be no real understanding of Haiku without first seeing what that shortened form originated from. Tanka, which is also known as Waka (or Japanese verse), is very ancient. Fujiwara Sadaie edited an anthology in 1235 in which he collected verses and presented them sequentially. The first one dates to approximately the year 660, and the last from the year the anthology was collected. Hyakunin Isshu, or The Issue of a Hundred People, provides one Tanka each from one hundred poets. In the 20th century particularly, many fine Japanese poets have seen the potential in the Tanka's open form, and revived it richly to modern tastes. So specifically, Tanka consists of five lines, which are arranged in the following syllables: 5–7–5–7–7. This is like a Haiku, but there are two extra lines at the end, and this makes all the difference. Tanka are emotional poems, where the observer is present and speaking to us directly. In Haiku, the observer (and his or her emotions) is suppressed; a good Haiku is supposed to be untouched by human hands, while the Tanka is all about connection from heart to heart. Let's look at an example. Here is a translation of No. 3 by Kakinomoto no Hitomaro from the Hyakunin Isshu: Still on a mountain, A mountain bird's tail stays still, But it all seems like A long, long life is adrift For one who yet finds no rest. This poem puts you there, with Kakinomoto as he watches a pheasant slowly move. There is an impromptu feeling to the poem, but also one of great and timeless connection to the way things will or have always been. Let's look at another one. Here is a translation of No. 70 by Riozen-hoshi: In sadness complete My roof from others is set, As if depriving The twilight too of the same, We watch the autumn evening. These examples are enough to show you how much 'I' is in Tanka compared to Haiku. They also show another aspect of all Japanese poetry and traditional song, and that is a seasonal reference. Both of these poems mention autumn; Riozen does so directly, and Kakinomoto achieves it by mentioning a pheasant, which is hunted in the fall. For a Japanese-style poem to be true to form, such an allusion must be included. But I wanted to show that they can be subtle and casual. For instance, summer can be brought to your Tanka in the form 'suntan lotion,' 'public pool,' '4th of July,' 'beach blanket' – anything that puts the reader in the hot season. Likewise, for winter, 'robin' (which is associated with Christmas in Britain), 'furnace grate,' 'road salt,' 'heating bill,' 'creaking roof,' 'tire chains,' and on and on and on can serve to put the reader where you are in the time of year. I hope you get the idea and are inspired; anything that says season to you is fair game for a Japanese-style poem. Now, the challenge: write your own Tanka and set it in the season of year wherever in the world you are right now. The Tanka should use a seasonal allusion that has a powerful effect on you specifically. Although you think the allusion may not be meaningful to anyone else, poetry is meant to touch by random connections, so do not be afraid. As final inspiration, here's one I wrote, but can you guess the season? Rain etched on the glass – On one side of it, nature, On the other, my finger; While the drops fall and I try To let one feel real to me.

PT #83 It’s a matter of common knowledge among friends and family that the protagonist of your story despises a certain person. Ironically, this very person dies in a freak accident at their house. As no one would believe this, they have to hide the body. Help them. PT#84 In order to avoid the pesky marriage-soon-trigger, Ash doesn’t date, officially. Find the most outrageous excuses to tell the family or — just tell them a truth of your choice, preferably all nicely boxed up in a short story.

Hope everyone has had a great week so far and is looking forward to the weekend. What better way to start it off than with brand new prompts! If you've been feeling stuck, or maybe just want to do something a little different, maybe one of these prompts will jump start a new idea. Just remember, prompt responses under 1,000 words must be posted as part of a collection. Also, to make it so that nobody feels like their prompt response is getting overlooked, we've changed the format. Rather than us picking the prompt responses to share, authors can share their response in the comments. Provide a small excerpt and a link and help people find your prompts! Prompt 592 - Challenge Tag – Details Describe your favorite object. Try to use as many senses as you can in your description, making the details come alive for your reader. Prompt 593 – Creative Tag – First Line What did you promise this time? So, did you write a prompt response last week? Share it with us!

Hope everyone has had a great week so far. It's time for this weeks writing prompts. If you're stuck, or you're considering writing for the first time, these might be perfect for you. Don't forget that stories under 1,000 words must be posted as part of a collection. For the featured prompt responses, we're going to start doing things a little different. Rather than me pick a prompt from the previous week, the authors themselves can share their prompts in the comments. This way, no one gets left out! Prompt 590 – Creative Tag – Heart Failure You weren’t feeling good, so on your lunch break you figured you would go to the local walk-in clinic. As you enter you collapse. The only thing you remember upon waking is these two dark brown eyes. You are told by a co-worker who stops by that you were saved by a cute doctor who was on his way out of the clinic as you collapsed. What happened next? Prompt 591 – Creative Tag – List of Words Use the following words in a story – a blanket, a broken cell phone, a park, a squirrel, and a pear. Now, share your prompt responses from Prompt #588 and Prompt #589!

I hope everyone is having a great week! It's time for this weeks prompts, supplied by our prompt guru, Comicfan. Just a reminder, and for those who haven't worked with the prompts before: prompt responses under 1,000 words must be posted as part of a collection. Hopefully you'll find something in this weeks prompts to spark an idea and get you writing! Prompt 588 – Creative Tag – The Pitch You were hired to write a new television show. You were asked to create something unique. What is your pitch? Prompt 589 – Creative Tag – First Line Who is singing that? Our three responses to Prompt #586: BHopper2 - Prompt #586 “Where are you planning to get the money for that vacation?” Professor Kline asked looking over at AJ. “Three weeks touring Ireland, England, and Scotland, seems to be rather expensive.” AJ smiled at his Professor, knowing he meant well. Professor Kline was his academic advisor, and whom he sought guidance on a variety of issues over the years. He’s also the man, which needed to approve him to access the campus computer system while he was away. “It’s mine and Tommy’s wedding honeymoon. Dad’s bankrolling it. Though, we have to take our own spending cash. I’ve already talked to my grandparents, and I can pull the money out from my Trust. It’s going to be a magical trip.” AJ stated with a twinkle in his eye. “Alright, thanks for answering, though you didn’t need too. Are you going to have the time to study while over there? Don’t get me wrong, schoolwork would be the last thing I thought of, while I was with my new partner while on a honeymoon.” JohnAR - MetaDeprivation “Where are you planning to get the money for that vacation?” the mailbox message said. Colt closed his phone before it had finished, checked the time, 30 more minutes, before putting it away. It seemed his mother during one of her not so bright moments, had called him and left that message, instead of on his father’s phone. He didn’t even get excited about the notion of ‘vacation.’ They would never go for a vacation. And even if, he didn’t want to go on vacation. Not with people he didn’t love. So no vacation. Ever. He only felt guilty for two seconds, he was supposed to love his parents, but he didn’t feel it. No surprise, the freak he was. No surprise, the loner he was. “You will never belong,” the stranger said, reading his thoughts. Comicfan - A Prompt A Week “Where are you planning to get the money for that vacation?” Tony looked over Mark’s broad shoulder at the website on screen. “I can look. You know I’ve been putting money away.” Tony turned and glared at his brother. “And it isn’t a vacation, it’s called a honeymoon!” “Yeah, yeah.” Tony smiled and sat on his older brother’s bed. “Just don’t you and Bran forget to bring me back something!” “You do realize its our honeymoon. We aren’t going for souvenirs, you know?”

Sorry this is late. Totally spaced it being a Friday and that I needed to check and see if the prompts were posted. Whoops! These prompts were supplied by our prompt guru, Comicfan. Just a reminder, and for those who haven't worked with the prompts before: prompt responses under 1,000 words must be posted as part of a collection. Hopefully you'll find something in this weeks prompts to spark an idea and get you writing! Prompt 586 – Creative Tag – First Line Where are you planning to get the money for that vacation? Prompt 587 – Creative Tag – List of Words Use the following words in a story - a kilt, a coat rack, a video game, a flower, and a cat Jason Rimbaud - Prompt 584 Creative "List of Words" I gave myself five minutes to use the following words in this weeks prompt. Use these words; lunch box, wooden table, a white horse, menu, and a needle. I put my lunch box on the wooden picnic table and stared at the days lunch menu all the other kids were enjoying at Rex Harrison Middle School. It wasn’t that we were poor, it was just normal in my family that I wear my older brothers clothes after he outgrew them. That’s why I was adept with needle and thread. Everyone around me was laughing and joking with friends. For once the entire class was ignoring me. I pushed the menu away and opened my lunch box and removed my cheese sandwich. As I absently bite into the stale bread, I opened my notebook and looked at the doodle that happened in last period. I don’t care what the teacher thinks, it was a white horse, not a zebra.

I hope everyone is having a great week! It's time for this weeks prompts, supplied by our prompt guru, Comicfan. Just a reminder, and for those who haven't worked with the prompts before: prompt responses under 1,000 words must be posted as part of a collection. Hopefully you'll find something in this weeks prompts to spark an idea and get you writing! Prompt 584 – Creative Tag – List of Words Use the following words in a story – lunch box, wooden table, a white horse, menu, and a needle. Prompt 585 – Creative Tag – The Lady You were hired at a new company and every one has been really nice. After your first week, your boss informs you that you have been assigned to the new president of the company to be part of her start up project. When you ask about her or the job you are told she is a lady and you will find out. What is the lady like? BHopper2 - Prompt: 583 – Creative "Matchmaker" Caleb walked into the office and looked around at the bright cheerful décor. He was still fuming from where his Mother had set him up with a Matchmaker. However, he wanted to make her happy, so he decided to humor her. His first visit with the Matchmaker, Linda Styles, was at his condo off of Bayshore Blvd., three weeks ago. They sat on the balcony sipping coffee while looking out over Tampa Bay, and Downtown Tampa. She had him fill out the forms, and answer questions on what he was attracted to, and other personality base ones. “Thank you, and you’ll hear from me soon,” was the last thing he had heard from Linda, as she left. Until last night. “Caleb, it's Linda, I’ve found you a match! Come by my office tomorrow, and you’ll meet him,” she said in her voicemail. Caleb had missed her call while he was out running. Now Caleb was in her office, and after checking in, sat in the lobby as he waited to be called back. “First time here?” a man sitting in the lobby asked him. “It is,” Caleb replied to him, “you’ve been here before?”

Sorry y'all for the prompts being late. My days are all messed up and I completely spaced that today was Friday. Don't forget to share your prompt responses in the forum and if it's under 1,000 words, it must be posted as part of a collection. Now, let's see what comicfan has for us today. Prompt 582 – Creative Tag – First Line How can I tell him about the accident, when I can’t even keep it together? Prompt 583 – Creative Tag – Lonely Hearts Your mother is tired of seeing you alone and she wants grandchildren. Without your knowledge she hires a matchmaker. What is your match like? Since there were no takers on last week's prompts, how about everyone share a random prompt response with us? Pull up your prompt responses, close your eyes, and point. Whichever prompt response you point to, that's the one you share with us!

Let's keep the prompt love going with some new inspiration this week from prompt guru, Comicfan, and have fun with these two options! What could a pink umbrella and a classic car have in common? Or are you more inclined to roam the wilds of space in a desperate expedition? Read on, figure it out, and share your story with readers! Prompt 580 – Creative Tag – List of Words Use the following words in a story – swimsuit, pink umbrella, a gumball, a classic car, and a cell phone. Prompt 581 – Creative Tag – The Ship You have been chosen to take part in a very exclusive expedition into space. Years of ignoring the climate change and massive over population has brought the earth to the brink of collapse and the world is sending some of its best and brightest into space in hopes of finding a new home. The ship trained for the trip. The trip is expected to take a minimum of forty years. Who do you take as your mate and what is the training like? Let's see... today's prompt features responses to Prompt #579 "How can you be so sure?" Want to know how Eric answers that question? Read more here!

Writing Prompts from Cia... wait... no... Of course these are from our prompt guru, Comicfan! I'm just filling in for Renee, but I swear I thought it was Thursday so these are just a smidge late. Sorry about that. I hope you will have fun writing something for these prompts, though, and for first-timers, remember all responses under 1k must be posted as part of a 'collection' of short stories/flash fiction/poetry. More info on that in the FAQ through the Help tab you need it. Prompt 578 – Creative Tag – list of words Use the following words in a story – woods, a crow, a pair of glasses, a new ball, and a cookie. Prompt 579 - Creative Tag – First Line How can you be so sure? And this older prompt has garnered some newer responses, so I thought I'd feature them all

I hope everyone is having a great week! It's time for this weeks prompts, supplied by our prompt guru, Comicfan. Just a reminder, and for those who haven't worked with the prompts before: prompt responses under 1,000 words must be posted as part of a collection. Hopefully you'll find something in this weeks prompts to spark an idea and get you writing! Prompt 576 – Creative Tag – First Line How much longer do I have, doctor? Prompt 577 – Creative Tag – Mermaid You went for an early morning walk along the beach. Things have been a bit tense lately, and you were lost in thought. Suddenly, you hear someone call “look out!” You turn to see a giant wave heading at you. You have just enough time to get out of the way. Gratefully you begin to scan the beach to thank whoever it was that saved you, but the beach is empty. You turn back to the water only to see a fin slipping below the waves. Who saved you? Since I'm running a bit late with the prompts this week, I'm opening it up to authors sharing any of their prompt responses that they'd like to!

Well, April is nearly over and can you believe it's snowing outside! I hope y'all have much warmer weather than we do, but if you don't, why not stay inside with a nice hot drink and try your hand at one of the newest writing prompts! Don't forget to post links to your story in the appropriate thread for a chance to have it featured in the blog. Prompt 574 – Creative Tag – List of Words Use the following words in a story – an emerald, a concert ticket, a bowl of macaroni and cheese, a torn pair of shorts, a clown wig. Prompt 575 – Creative Tag – Spiders You woke up and were running last to work. As you run out the door, you hit the button on your key fob to unlock your car door and stop cold. Your car is covered in spider webs. Turning to run back into your house you see it is also covered in hundreds of webs and there are spiders everywhere you look. What happened? For this week, I decided to feature prompt responses from Prompt #573 Drifts by Puppilull ”How can a kid have so much stuff…” Joel was wading around in the mess in Mason’s room, trying to attain some sort of order so he could vacuum. He knew this was something Mason really should do himself, but with school and hockey Mason had a full plate. What little time the boy had left, Joel felt he deserved to relax. Especially now that he had a girlfriend. A smile crept over Joel’s face as he thought of the two teenagers, so adorable in their puppy love. As far as he could tell, they were “taking it slow” and seemed content to kiss and make out. But then again, what did he know? He went by his gut, hoping it worked not only on Swedish youngsters but the US variety too. Mason’s dad had talked to his son about being in a relationship, so that was one awkward conversation bullet Joel had dodged. Still, he tried to keep an eye on things, ready to give advice or simply be there for Mason should he need it.

Hope everyone has had a great week so far and is looking forward to the weekend. What better way to start it off than with brand new prompts! If you've been feeling stuck, or maybe just want to do something a little different, maybe one of these prompts will jump start a new idea. A reminder: Prompt responses under 1,000 words must be posted as part of a collection. Prompt 572 – Creative Tag – First Line What do you mean you are leaving now? Prompt 573 – Creative Tag – Trouble Most people seen Tommy and said he was nothing but trouble. You seen Tommy and called him a friend. At least until Tommy brought a world of trouble to your door, begging for help. What do you do? For this week, we're going to look at last weeks response to Prompt #571 Mikiesboy - The Notebook The phone was ringing. I knew it was just a dream. The phone kept on ringing. An annoying dream it seemed. I reached for the phone, and in my dream, put it to my ear. “Hello?” “Den?” I knew the voice.

Happy Friday, Y'all!!!!! Hope everyone is looking forward to the weekend, I know I am! To help start your weekend off right, it's time for some new prompts. Hopefully one of these great prompts will inspire you, and don't forget to share your responses (at least a link) so that they can possibly be featured next week. Also, as always, remember that prompt responses under 1K have to be posted as part of a collection. Prompt 570 – Creative Tag – List of Words Use the following words in a story – an obnoxious customer, a computer, a school bus, a sandwich, and a yellow couch. Prompt 571 – Creative Tag – The Notebook Your best friend left their notebook over at your house last night. You know they write and keep their life in it. When you spot it, you know you need to call them and let them know you found it. However, curiosity takes over and you begin to read it. You flip through the pages fascinated by what you read until you find something that will permanently alter your relationship. What did you learn? Let's take a look at prompt responses from Prompt #568: Timothy M “You’ve got to tell me everything!” Maria followed her statement with an excited hug, and I tried to act casual. “OK, I’ll tell you about my date with Nelson, but not everything.” I raised my eyebrows at her, and a moment later she burst into giggles. “All right, you can keep those details private, but tell me everything else. I told you all about my first romantic date with Tony.” “Yes, and I didn’t even ask you.” I rolled my eyes at the memory of how I’d been a good friend and patiently listened to her gush over not only that date, but several others, too. JohnAR “You’ve got to tell me everything!” was all it took for Bradley to feel how the small wet spot formed around his dickhead on his white boxers grew to palm size. And even non-wolves would be able to smell it now. There went his resolution not to react like a scared little pup in front of an upset alpha. It seemed despite his respectable size, Bradley was still a pup.

I hope everyone is having a great week! It's time for this weeks prompts, supplied by our prompt guru, Comicfan. Just a reminder, and for those who haven't worked with the prompts before: prompt responses under 1,000 words must be posted as part of a collection. Hopefully you'll find something in this weeks prompts to spark an idea and get you writing! Prompt 568 - Creative Tag – First line You’ve got to tell me everything! Prompt 569 – Creative Tag – The Garden The winter snow is covering the ground in thick dirty layers. It seems everywhere you go people are waiting for the snow to melt and spring to arrive. As you walk through the woods near your house, you slip on the ice, roll down an embankment and into the garden of your neighbor. No matter which way you turn you see beautiful flowers, thick grass, and butterflies. How can this be? We had three takers for Prompt 566 Caz Pedroso I sit here, on the porch, thinking, thinking. Floating on the breeze I can hear our song… Hudson Bartholomew “Cup of coffee, please?” Cam reached into his battered knapsack to pull out his wallet. “Sure. How do you like it?” The guy behind the bodega counter was about as typical a New Yorker as he could get. Big guy with a tattoo sleeve on one arm, scruffy face under a Mets baseball cap, and an accent so thick it took Cam’s brain a second to translate. “Just black. Thanks.” Comicfan Tony had gotten up before the sun had even risen. It was the first day of his vacation and he didn’t want to waste it. He tossed a change of clothes into his old knapsack and figured he would hike across the city, maybe climb some of the hills overlooking the water. He wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to do yet. He slipped on his hiking boots, slipped his keys and wallet into his knapsack, and marched out of the house. The early morning fog clung to him like a damp second skin. He was determined that the weather wouldn’t stop him.

And the prompts are BACK! With all the site upgrade stuff going on last week, we didn't do any prompts, but this week we're back on schedule and it's time for a couple new prompts from the prompt guru Comicfan. Just remember that to post in GA Stories, prompt responses under 1,000 words have to be posted as part of a collection. And don't forget to share a link to your prompt response in the appropriate forum thread so that it just might appear in next week's blog post. Prompt 566 – Creative Tag – List of words Use the following words in a story – broken watch, boardwalk, heavy rain, knapsack, and a cup of coffee. Prompt 567 – Creative Tag – Fire The night started out calm and peaceful. You had just finished dinner and were curling up on the couch ready to watch some TV when a bright red glow caught your eye. Turning to look out the window you see your neighbors house engulfed in flames. Rushing outside you find nearly all the houses on the block burning, including the house next door. What do you? I don't see any prompt responses posted in the thread for Prompts 564 or 565, so here's your chance to share your own past prompt responses.

Welcome back to another Friday Prompt Me! Yes, amazing how quickly the week seems to pass. Already those of us in the Northern Hemisphere are seeing the cooler temperatures moving in, the leaves changing colors, and announcement of snow. Seems that autumn is flying by. As it does hopefully people are taking time to enjoy things and perhaps even taking a bit of time to write again. Just the weekly reminder - Prompt responses under 1,000 words must be posted as part of a collection. Considering it is indeed Friday it is time to see if I can tempt something new from our authors with the weekly prompts. So no further holding back, here are this weeks treats. Prompt 454 – Creative Tag – List of Words Use the following in a story – costume, candy apple, big dog, a large bowl, and a broken mask Prompt 455 – Creative Tag – The Party Your best friend is throwing a party and has invited you to come. To be honest, you were told you had no choice; you were coming to his party. What sort of party is it and why did he want you there? Now last week I asked for your opinion on how many things you would like to see here from each week's prompts. So people asked for one or two to be spotlighted. I will go with the consensus. Last week there were two prompts and a poetry prompt. First up is a sample of the Ballade from last week. I choose Dolores Esteban's Enjoying what you read? Want to read the rest? Find it here - https://www.gayauthors.org/story/dolores-esteban/gawritingprompts/64 There were more examples and they may be found here -http://www.gayauthors.org/forums/topic/40858-poetry-prompt-14-%E2%80%93-ballade/ There were two different prompts last week and both got attention. However, I read them all and am focusing my attention on one of the entries for Prompt 452. Jamessavik gave us another glimpse into his world of Cadet Cruise. Curious as to what happens? Read it as well as find the links to all the other prompts for 452 here - http://www.gayauthors.org/forums/topic/40869-prompt-452-creative/ You can find the stories for prompt 453 here - http://www.gayauthors.org/forums/topic/40870-prompt-453-creative/ So the prompts come to an end for another week. Hopefully our authors will be inspired and write many new pieces to tempt you into reading them. When you do read remember to like and comment on the pieces. It allows the authors to know where they succeed or fail. Never be afraid to tell your friends about the stories you enjoy, word of mouth is a great way to get people to read. 'Til next time, be safe and be well.

Still a bit short-winded, I present to you the Friday Prompts! PT# 73: You stare at your best friend’s wedding list. Instead of pots and pans or nifty gardening equipment with useful links where you could order it, you read: Surprise us! As your friends love “quirky things with character”, you decide to go to a yard sale. In the end, you have to choose between a huge, inflatable pink flamingo, a hand-pottered caterpillar-shaped bowl, and a coat rack that looks like a human spine. What do you choose and why? Or do you find something else? PT# 74 Ever since you saw a lady wearing a pink cowboy hat in a video on YouTube, you keep seeing her all over the city, even in your favorite bar serving drinks. Who is she? Is she real? Or are you having a Perception moment?

This week Comicfan brings us two new prompts: Prompt 108 – Creative Cue – List of words Use the following words in a short story: obituary, ice cream, red dress, fish, and apartment. and Prompt 109 – Creative Cue – Poetry Write a poem about your favorite person. Try to descriptive and give life to the person you are writing about. The poem can take any from a series of haikus, to free form, to an established pattern. In response to Prompt #107.... Lifetime Guarantee by Percy “This one comes with a lifetime guarantee.” Those were the first words I heard as fingers removed me from my box and set me atop the glass display case. “Very nice.” A different hand picked me up, examined me, tested my weight, traced my dimensions. Finally, fingers removed my cap. “Do you have some paper? I’d like to try this one out.” I settled into the right hand, found a comfortable resting spot against the bottom joint of the index finger, and went to work. Even fresh from the factory, I knew exactly what to do. The hand guided my tip along the paper, quickly curving out two words, then lifted me so that we could examine the work critically. Blue lines, boldly written, not unattractive, but I could do better. “It’s heavier than I expected.” This came from the owner of the hand holding me. My tip re-engaged with the paper and we tried again, the same two words. This time there was a flare to the curves, a confidence about them. They looked elegant, commanding. I loved this person who spoke, loved the hand holding me and how naturally we worked together. “Is this a gift?” The question came from the first person, the one who’d taken me from the box. “A gift for myself. I made Vice President today.” We wrote as Vice President spoke. Two lengthy sentences, then those first two words written over and over. Oddly, I could read everything we wrote, except those two words Vice President liked most. The first started with a J, followed by a short wavy line, then a longer word started with “A” and longer squiggles after it. We looked at what we’d written. “I’ll take it,” Vice President said “Engraving is included with the purchase. Your name, perhaps?” “Yes, that would be perfect.” *************** The early years were good. Busy. Vice President and I were together morning to night. The work day started with a review of the daily schedule which I meticulously maintained in Vice President’s leather day planner. “10:30am - Meeting with lawyers” “6:00pm - Conference call with Tokyo” Once the schedule was done, we delved into the meat of the day. Meeting after meeting. Lots of note taking. We worked rapidly, smart and confident in our printed letters, our abbreviations. I functioned perfectly, always uniform in color, never streaking. No blotches. I took pride in the work we produced. When not working my resting place was an inside jacket pocket where I heard the steady thump, thump of Vice President’s heart. V.P. didn’t often work with me in the evenings. I hung in my pocket on the back of a chair or sometimes a closet while V.P. recounted our day to the other person in the house. I’d met this person once or twice. The hand that held me was larger, rougher. It jabbed my tip at the paper, swiping at it so that I left behind short, abrupt swipes of blue. I did my best, as always, but I preferred the elegant cursive of V.P. Every few months we would have an extraordinarily busy day. I always knew we’d be working extra hard when Vice President replaced my inner cartridge and we caught an early morning flight. At the other end of the flight would be a crowded conference room with interminable discussions that always culminated with us marking sheet after sheet of paper. We wrote V.P.’s favorite words, “J~~~ A~~~, Vice President.” It was on the first of these trips that I learned I had a name. I was “Closing Pen” and I had been acquired to sign “deals” and “transactions.” The others around the massive table in the room had their own “Closing Pen”, and I gathered the existence of these other Closing Pens is what had prompted my purchase in the first place. We Closing Pens were discreetly flashed by our owners, sometimes examined and tested by others. I know Vice President was introduced to counterparts of mine who had real gold and diamonds. I sometimes feared I was too drab and would be replaced. But, V.P. continued to be happy with me and over the years we left our marks on many an “Agreement of Merger” and “Certificate of Preferred Stock.” It wasn’t all work though. No, on the train ride home in the evening we would engage in another sort of writing. Fantastic tales populated with people and places far removed from the daily work life in which V.P. and I were engaged. These were my favorite times because I think they were also V.P.’s favorite times. Our writing was smooth, light and happy. It flowed. My only frustration was that our tales were only brief excerpts. They were scenes in a story that never had a beginning or an end. Our other work not related to the day’s business came on the morning train ride. This is when V.P. wrote letters. A new letter was composed daily and always addressed “Dear God” or sometimes just “God-” In time, I gathered we were praying or perhaps confessing. I disliked the morning writing. It was tortured work; our words were dark. Vice President’s hand gripped me too tightly, pressed too hard. V.P. hated our morning work too. I knew because our last mark was often an “X” over the entire letter, sometimes angry scratches of my tip obliterating the recently inked words. These train ride compositions, both the morning and the evening, were just between the two of us. They were shared with no one else. We were intimates. I vowed to always be there for Vice President, to so what I could to provide what human companions at work or home could not. I would not fail V.P. I came with a lifetime guarantee. I’m not sure when things started to change, but I’ve always blamed Phone for the chaos that interrupted the perfect life V.P. and I had. Phone arrived without warning, shoved into the pocket that was my home. Until Phone’s arrival, it was a comfortable, roomy home. The loose jacket would swing and I would brush up against the warm curve of V.P.’s body, just making the slightest tap, tap against the soft, malleable flesh over the heart. V.P. didn’t like the softness or the curves. I knew this from the morning letters to God. Still, I’d always been comfortable in the pocket until Phone arrived. Phone was squat and fat and loud. Okay, maybe fat isn’t a very politically correct term but try sharing a sleeping bag with someone six times your size and then tell me how correct you’d feel. Vice President ditched Phone after just a few months but then immediately replaced it with New Phone. New Phone was quieter and slimmer but still far too big to be sharing a pocket. Unlike myself, New Phone demanded attention with its constant vibrations. Vice President reached for New Phone at least as often as for me. In time, I came to accept New Phone. A new New Phone arrived every 1-2 years (no lifetime guarantee), but I declined to name each of them. My pocket companion was simply known to me as New Phone. We had nothing to do with each other but its presence continued to concern me. V.P. and I were working together less and less. Even during the long meetings we attended out of town, I was no longer the center of attention and there were far fewer pages to sign. The people with their own Closing Pens were also fewer because “only the banks and lawyers want original copies” and most parties to our deals were “willing to close on a scanned copy.” Instead of passing around pens for examination and admiration, ugly, bulky New Phone was handled, palmed, fingered and thumbed. Vice President became Senior Vice President and instead of taking notes in meetings, V.P. did most of the talking while others took notes. Sometimes an entire day would go by, or two, without V.P. and I working together at all. We still had our train dates, both the morning and evening, but even those weren’t going well. Much of the train ride was spent with V.P. tapping me against the paper. We didn’t get much work done. Vice President was alone in the evenings now. No one heard about our day. I participated only in fragments of Vice President’s life which itself seemed to be fragmenting. We made lists. Lists for moving to a new house, for doctor’s appointments, for starting a new job. I realized we didn’t write our two favorite words anymore and tried to remember the last time we’d signed the J~~~ A~~~~~. It was months ago, at the bottom of a sheet of paper with the words “Motion for Decree of Divorce” on the top. I spent days in my pocket home untouched but even that felt different. I was still near V.P.’s heart but the curve was less pronounced, less soft. For much of the time I had the pocket to myself. Phone was in constant use. I resented Phone. He was the cause of my loneliness. I’d been in the pocket for days, unused, when finally Vice President unclipped me, brought me into the light of day. Familiar fingers ran over me, much as they had that very first day. A sensitive index finger traced V.P.’s name tattooed onto my body. I waited to be uncapped, waited for V.P. to put me to work, but instead I was wrapped in paper and dropped into a box. Other items occupied the box, but I couldn’t see them. I only knew that I was far, far from Vice President. Phone had the pocket to himself. Nothing happened in the box. Not for years. The box moved once awhile, jostling those of us in it around. During one of the longer, more kinetic journeys, the tissue worked itself away and I found myself positioned next to Watch. Like me, Watch hated Phone. He, too, blamed Phone for his new life in the box. Like me, Watch had V.P.’s name tattooed on his body. We discussed whether this commonality between us, this name of V.P., was the reason for our expulsion from V.P.’s life. We both concluded that that line of reasoning made no sense. Phone had conquered us in a complete rout; Phone had won the battle and the war. The box remained closed for years and I wondered sometimes if I was finishing out my lifetime guarantee in a landfill. Yet, when the day came that the lid of the box opened, and I was lifted out, it was just like that first day we’d met over the glass counter. Vice President held me just like before I went into the box. The fingertips, the curve between index finger and thumb, all felt the same. A thumb popped my cap off and fingers helped me make a couple experimental swipes at a piece of paper. “Probably just needs a new cartridge.” This voice was new. I’d never heard it before. “Probably” Vice President agreed. Fingers traced my length, rubbing over the name engraved on my body. “It has your old name.” “Yes,” V.P. tapped me decisively on the paper. “I miss writing with a pen sometimes.” I got a new cartridge a few days later, and then it was just like old times. No, that’s not accurate. We’re creating some new times together. V.P. takes me to work, but doesn’t use me there too often. I figured out he’s not V.P. anymore though. He’s COO, Chief Operating Officer. I can’t read his new name any more easily than his old one. Now it’s R~~~ E~~~~~~. He doesn’t wear jackets too often either. I guess Phone found another pocket. Sometimes I’m clipped to a shirt pocket, laying smoothly on a firm, flat chest, listening again to the thump, thump of Vice President’s heart. Much of the work day is spent with me resting on his desk watching him write with a keyboard. Even though I’m not as busy as before, I like the fact that I’m within arm’s reach when he needs me. We do most of our best work on the weekends. He’s writing quite a lot these days, just like he use to on the train in the evenings. Today’s tales have a beginning, a middle and an end, and I can tell he’s taking them seriously. I’m fascinated by the stories and always disappointed when he lays me down for the day. We write in the sunroom while his friend is painting. Once in a while his friend asks what the story is about and he’ll read our words right off the page. The stories aren’t just between the two of us anymore, but I think it’s better that way. By my estimate, we go back 18 years now but the precise time doesn’t really matter. After all, I come with a lifetime guarantee. Enjoy the prompts! We would love to see your writing prompt response here next time.

Happy Friday everyone... And since it's Friday, that means it we've got some writing prompts for you, as well as a great piece of writing that last Friday's prompts generated. Today's writing prompts are brought to you by Comicfan: Prompt 118 – Creative Cue – Myths and Legends No matter what part of the world you are from there are myths and legends associated with it. From the leprechauns of Ireland, to the Gods of Norway, the dragons of China, or Paul Bunyan and his ox in the United States, myths and legends abound around us. Your task is to take one of these creatures from your part of the world and create something new . Prompt 119 – Creative Cue – Library Sometimes a location can be limiting and sometimes it can open a world of new ideas. Your task is to create a tale about a library. What kind and where are up to you, so try not to limit yourself and see where this takes you. Play with these great prompts, see where you can go and share them in the Writing Prompts forum. This week's feature is in response to Prompt 116 and comes from Rndmrunner. I loved how he first sketched out how he was responding to the prompt before writing this - you can see the outline at his post here. And here is his story: The Gift One of my selfish pleasures is to not book anything or anyone on my birthday. I have reached an age when I am simply embarrassed when friends and family fuss with celebrations. I was reclining on the couch writing when the chimes sounded setting the dogs into Howler Monkey mode. Annoyed at the disturbance, I snapped at hem to for God’s sake be quiet and heaved myself around them to the entrance to turn away whoever was soliciting at the door. Carly jumped back as I snatched the door open still harping at the dogs who crowding around the entrance. At the sight of her startled frown, I softened, smiled, and swung the door open to let her in. The dogs, soothed by a familiar face and happy that they had done their duty, swarmed around her knees, and rubbed their heads lazily against her leg. Carly’s face was flushed as from the cold, her glasses fogging as she hit the warmer air. Carly was dressed in typical college fashion, an eclectic mix of comfort and fashion, well worn at the edges. Amidst a tangle of boots and dogs I took her coat and invited her in. “Sorry to bother you, I know you keep your birthday to yourself but I needed to talk to you and I knew you would be on your own tonight. “ “What’s up” I smiled; “you know that you are always welcome” Carly sat down as I proceeded to pour another glass. “It wasn’t so long ago that this would have been juice and Oreos. Carly looked flushed and a little nervous so I gave her a few moments while I put away my journal and settled back in on the couch. I wondered at how that timid tearful child I first met had grown to be this confident young woman who was uncharacteristically at a loss for words. Carly looked up and gathered herself. “Eric, you remember the day I met you. It was my 9th birthday, I was in such a state. I was feeling forgotten cuz Mum was strapped for cash and time, you know the whole single parent thing, so there was no fuss or party. As only a nine year can feel I was feeling neglected and I so wanted to celebrate a special day. You found me sitting on your stoop in tears with a runny nose. Well I always wondered why you sat down and talked to me, really talked to me, instead of just asking where I lived and taking me home. Even then I knew it was okay to talk to you. And when you took me into the book store and bought me that hand puppet I knew I had found a friend. You didn’t rush me and then walked with me back home. I remember I was afraid when I showed it to Mum , you know, talking to strangers and all that and I was surprised when she just shook her head a little sadly and hugged me and offered you a coffee. You started coming around after that; Mum was never really surprised to see you, and you became Uncle Eric.” Carly paused and looked up at me directly and took a breath. “Mum has always been open and told me as soon as I could understand that she had me using a sperm bank. She said that when I was older I might be able to get some info on my biological father. I had always been curious as to who my biological father was. Mum and I were enough though and I didn’t need some stranger to make us whole. Mum raised me on her own and while I know she struggled sometimes she did a great job. And you know, over the years, you became the one I talked to for things that Mum just couldn’t answer, so I didn’t want to meet a stranger and feel that I should have some special connection to him. Anyway… ” Carly paused again looking down at her hands absentmindedly peting the dogs who were resting their noses in her lap. Looking up, Carly began again “Last summer, shortly after my birthday, Mum sat down and had a chat with me, she said she needed to clear the air. She told me that she always felt badly that I never had a chance to know my dad and her decision to have me by herself had cost me that chance. We talked and I tried to explain to her that even if I didn’t have a dad I had a Mum all to myself, one who was always there for me.” And I meant it, she went on. “I remember looking at my friends and their families. Some of them had two parents but they might as well have been alone most of the time. Besides Eric you have become part of the family too. I told Mum not to worry. The scars that I bear are pretty normal for a nineteen year old. I even told Mum that she hardly ever embarrasses me anymore. She laughed and agreed that she’s slipping and promised to try harder. We talked some more and I think Mum understands that I get it” “So what I really came here to say was thanks for being there for us.” Carly slipped an envelope out from behind her and passed it over. “Happy Birthday”. I smiled and opened the card. It was one of those gauzy drugstore cards that kids buy and emblazoned on the cover was HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD! I felt a tightening in my gut and looked up. Carly smiled and said “Well Mum and I might have talked a little more that I let on. I don’t think I will ever know how hard it must have been for you not to say anything all these years and just be there as a friend. You were a real friend to Mum, honouring the deal to be anonymous, but I am much happier to have you as a Dad.” I barely heard that last part as I pulled Carly into my arms.

Today's writing prompts brought to you by Comicfan Prompt 116 Cue – the gift Years ago you came across a child crying because everyone had forgotten their birthday. Feeling bad you took the child into the nearby store and picked up a small gift for them and wished them a Happy Birthday. Well years have passed and it is now your birthday and they have arrived to repay your kindness. What is their gift to you? Prompt 117 – Creative Cue – First Line “What is that smell?” This weeks feature is in response to Prompt 114 and comes from andy021278!!! Prompt #114 I saw Mischa in his front yard shooting hoops. I’ve fancied him since I first saw him six months ago. My name is Samuel and I’m thirteen. His family have lived here for years and everyone in town seems to know Mischa and nobody seems to have a bad word to say about him. I think that’s why my parents don’t have a problem with us being friends. I walked down to his place. “Morning Mischa.” “Good Morning Samuel.” I love his Russian accent; I think it was either that or his pale violet eyes that I fell in love with first. “What’s happening Mischa? You got family visiting?” I looked at all the cars parked in the drive and on the street. I’d seen people arriving since yesterday, and they were all greeted so friendly by Mischa’s parents. “Yah, something like that.” Another car arrived and a very large burly guy got out. Mischa’s dad ran over to him and greeted him in what I presume to be his native Russian. They kissed each other on the cheek and hugged briefly. The large guy was being escorted into the house when he looked at Mischa. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I saw fear in the man’s eyes; but how can that be? He was at least eight inches taller than Mischa and a hundred plus pounds of solid muscle heavier. Mischa smiled at me and that was enough to distract me from what I was thinking; I just shrugged it off as me being me. We played around for a couple of hours before mum called me in for dinner. “Bye, Mischa. See you tomorrow.” “Good bye Samuel.” Mischa smiled and thought to himself, “And I will see you sooner that you think my friend.” I was just getting to sleep, when I heard a tap on my window. I looked out and saw Mischa. I wondered not only why he was tapping on my window, but tapping on it at nearly midnight. I opened my window to find out what he wanted, and was shocked when the burly guy I had seen earlier dragged me through my window and stuck me in a sack. I was unceremoniously dropped out of the sack a few minutes later. I saw I was in a large room, surrounded by many of the people I had seen arriving over the past day. “Ah, the guest of honour has arrived. We can begin.” I looked around to try and find the source of the thick Russian accent, and saw someone wearing dark robes standing behind an altar. I only had time to think about why Mischa’s family would have an altar, before I was roughly grabbed around the neck, dragged over to the altar and chained in front of it. “On this day ninety-five years ago, the greatest man who ever lived was assassinated. We, the loyal followers of Rasputin, are here today to honour him and his living spirit here on Earth.” The hooded figure turned to face Mischa and bowed. Everyone in the room turned to Mischa, dropped to one knee and began muttering, again in what I presumed was their native Russian. Mischa walked over to me and placed a hand on my head. “Samuel, my friend. You are here to play a most vital role in today’s ceremony. Shortly before the body I was in died on December 29th in the Year of our Lord 1916, I left it and entered the body of a near-by child. The closest you can come to understanding what I am is a soul. I have now been in this body for those ninety-five years, and it is now dying. It is time for me to move on to a new body. I have chosen to move on to yours.” I looked on at the boy I loved in sheer terror at what he had just said. The thoughts whirled through my head as fast as the speed of light. Mischa’s wrist was cuffed to my own. The hooded figure cut each of us on our palms, and Mischa clasped my hand in his own. The hooded figure began chanting, and he was then joined by the rest of the assembly. As our blood mingled, I could feel something passing into my body; a feeling of pure evil, of malice, of insanity. It began suppressing every thought I had, every feeling of self. It was like being wrapped in a cloak which had its own identity. The boy I had known as ‘Mischa’ turned to me. “I beg your forgiveness. I could not fight it, nor stop it. I . . . am . . . tru . . . ly . . . .” The last thoughts that were my own, were forgiveness for the boy who had played host to this demonic being for nearly a century, sorrow for myself (wondering what damage, what carnage, what acts I will be forced to commit against my will over the hundred years to come), but most disturbingly of all was how much of the boy I knew and loved was really Mischa, and how much was this ghost . . . this soul . . . just trying to bait its next host. We look forward to seeing what you can come up with for this weeks prompt and maybe next week, yours can be the featured prompt!!! Happy Reading & Writing! Don't forget to review!!!

Today's writing prompts brought to you by Comicfan are... Prompt 112 – Creative Cue – Poetry, Haiku The Haiku is a Japanese poetry form. In English we usually use a 5, 7, 5 syllable line. The Haiku usually focuses on some aspect of nature and ends with a surprise. With that in mind try writing at least one of your own. Here is one of mine as an example. I hear the screaming And run to find him pointing At a spider. Squish. Prompt 113 – Challenge Cue – Sidekick The sidekick is the one the hero or villain turns to. They can be the best friend, the comedy break, or the sounding board for the ideas. Whether it is Dr. Watson to Sherlock Holmes, Ethel to Lucy, or Mini Me to Dr. Evil these characters exist and are an important part of the story. What sort of sidekick would you create? Look over your short stories and create one of your own. Spotlight: Before I introduce this week's spotlight I just have to say I would like more than six regulars to pick from... so if you are enjoying these prompts and the spotlights, etc... pick up your pencil and join the fun. Being great isn't the point... I like 'original'. Other than that.... kudos to Joe! In response to prompt 108 by JOeKEool: OBITUARY I did it. There. The obituary's done. It's Final.Finis.The race is run. She was here. Here.Now she's gone. I can't let go.I can't move on. She's so young? So happy?And so strong? And just like that. What went wrong? I can't stop now.I can't even cry. She didn't.She didn't.She didn't die. Come on.Get up.You've things to do. Be strong.Be tough.Make it through. They asked me how to lay her out. The red dress?Red.Yes,no doubt. Oh god!Her fish.She loved her fish. To her sister.Of Course.That's her wish. That night's ice cream is still on the table. Please tell me. It's all a dark fable. The blanket.We were all cuddled up. Five minutes.Five.To walk the pup. Come here little guy.You don't understand. Ow! Ow! You're biting my hand! This apartment.Her clothes.All of her things. Little guy. You don't know. The pain death brings. The blog team is looking for some more reviews if anyone is interested in helping out just PM me. Happy Writing! and as always Read and Review!

It's Friday! It's Friday! Whoot! Time for some jolly good reading. Our prompts this week are: Prompt 110 – Creative Cue – Creating Evil No one is just evil. They work from their own point of view. Your job is to create an “evil character” but you have to explain why they are that way. What happened to turn them into the person they are and why do they find that “evil” lifestyle so appealing? Prompt 111 – Creative Cue – The Quick Fix Everyone knows that there is no such thing as a quick fix, but to solve a problem people will hope to find a short cut. They have been selling this product to fix blemishes and you finally broke down and bought it. After using it for a while you’ve discovered it works but there are some extreme side effects. So now your skin is perfectly clear but what went wrong? ok this week's Prompt Showcase was a split vote, both were from Prompt #108 -- Use the following words in a short story: obituary, ice cream, red dress, fish, and apartment. Kudos both of you! Untitled by JamesSavik It was a cold, rainy Saturday morning when I heard. I slept late and finally got up around ten. I started breakfast and went downstairs for my paper. When I came back up the apartment was warm and had a friendly smell of sausage and biscuits cooking. While I waited for breakfast to finish, I opened the paper and began my usual scan as the biscuits finished cooking. My basketball teams lost. The economy sucked. Politicians were lying. Just another day until I hit the obituary page. Grief and memories swirled as I tried to wrap my head around a world with out Cheryl. I remembered the girl who loved ice cream and red dresses. I remembered the girl who loved to fish. I remembered my old friend who was just so cool that nothing else mattered. No pressure, no demands. Something precious was lost. Something that had been gone for a long time but death had finally slammed the door on. I burned my biscuits that morning. Valerie Woodward by Dolores Esteban 　It was a Saturday afternoon. I was sitting in my apartment, eating an ice cream and reading the newspaper. I gazed at the name in shock when I turned the page and saw the obituary. Valerie Woodward. Valerie Woodward had died? I read the death notice again. No doubt. The date of birth was correct. I remembered the date because I had invited her for dinner on her twenty-third birthday. That was twenty years ago. But I remembered the day in all detail. Valerie had accepted my invitation which had taken me by surprise. We had been working together for about six months and I had been into her from the moment she had been introduced to me. Valerie, however, had always ignored me. Whatever I had tried to attract her attention, it had never worked out. She brought a cake to the office on her birthday. We accidentally left the office together in the evening, and, without giving it a prior thought, I invited her for dinner. She accepted, to my very surprise. She asked me to pick her up at eight p.m. and so I did. I rang the bell and she opened the door. Her sight stunned me. More, it shocked me. She was wearing a short and low-cut red dress and her lips were painted dark red. I think I gazed at her with my mouth open. And Valerie gazed back at me. A moment or two passed, and then a frown crossed her face. "What do you want, Jordan?" she hissed at me. I swallowed. "Well, I invited you for dinner and you asked me to pick you up at eight p.m.," I said in a slightly indignant voice. She looked me up from head to toe. I felt totally confused and uneasy. What was wrong? I didn’t have a clue. "So why did you not come then?" she asked sullenly. "You see, I’ve other fish to fry." I gazed at her. I was feeling cold. What the hell was she talking about? "I’m right on time," I said slowly. She shook her head and shot me a dark look. "Look," she said, raising her left arm. She wore an expensive silver watch. I made a step forward and looked at her watch. It was twenty past nine. I looked up, feeling entirely puzzled. I met her dark look. Valerie lowered her arm and made a step back. She was about to close the door. I looked at my watch. It showed a quarter to eight. The scales finally fell from my eyes. My watch had stopped and I had not checked any other. I had dawdled away my time and I was totally late. I was about to apologize to Valerie when I heard a voice from the background. A half dressed man walked up the corridor. "Like I said, I’ve other fish to fry," Valerie hissed before she slammed the door in my face. I returned home. I was like in a state of shock as the truth dawned on me slowly. Did Valerie have a side job? Why had she accepted my invitation? Had she hoped to hook me up? Did she lack clients? Or what? We ignored each other at office the following weeks. And yet, I could not stop thinking about her. A month had passed when we finally talked with each other. Valerie admitted all. She worked as a call girl in the evenings. She was in need of money and she found her side job was an easy way to earn it. However, she had wanted to separate her official and her double life. She admitted that accepting my invitation had been a mistake. Valerie left the company two months later. I have never seen her again. But rumors had spread that she got involved more and more in the sex trade over the years. I don’t remember who spread the news. One of my co-workers, I guess. I have never seen her again. But I remember the day in all detail. I see her standing in the doorway in a short and low-cut red dress and with her full lips painted red. I looked at the death notice again. Valerie Woodward had died. I wondered what had happened. Only the names of her parents were listed. Had Valerie died all alone? I wondered if I should attend her funeral. But then I decided to refrain from it. We had had nothing in common. She had just entered my life for the briefest of time, for the glimpse of an eye. I had glimpsed at the true Valerie twenty years ago. I would keep this memory. But, for the rest, I would let her go. Keep your writing muscles flexed -- write a prompt today! And remember -- Read! Write! Review! Enjoy!

Time to go haunt Comicfan and see what he can drag out of the inspiration file for this week. Seems we have two new challenges. One is a Point of View challenge -- those are always interesting -- and one has the goal of animating an inanimate object. You've got a week. Make life interesting. Prompt 106 – Cue – The Fight Remember the last argument you got into? Change it into a story about two other people. The challenge is to tell the story from the other person’s point of view. Prompt 107 – Cue – Inanimate Life Everyone knows the old saying, “if these walls could talk.” Well imagine something that would be around someone for a while. Is it the blanket on the bed, a child’s beloved toy, or maybe the morning coffee mug? Bring that object to life and let it tell about the person it is always around. Our featured prompt response this week is by JOeKEool, AND JUST WHAT THE HELL AND just what the hell am I supposed to do with this? JUST dealing with sadness. Alone and amiss WHAT, now I start over. Start dealing with bliss? THE odds are against me. Do I get a kiss? HELL! Why do I feel like this might be my bris AM I gonna go for it? Then get a dis? I could not handle a boo or a hiss SUPPOSED to be here? Just me, vis a vis? TO let you see me? My soul looks like swiss DO I have a choice. I'm your Bro. You're my Sis WITH out reservation. It is what it is THIS is my new home. But no more of this! If you would like to leave him specific feed back please leave a review on his poem page. Thank you. Good Job JOeKEool! So who will it be next week?