365 Prompts
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Join me in writing, sirrah! We won't get better (and believe me, I do need to get better) without slogging our way through.
ES
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- Sugar: Write something so sweet, it makes your teeth hurt.
O my dearest love, my sweet prince, who sets the moon and stars in the sky, with your gentle smile and your gentler hands. I wake without you near and wonder: what is this sharp and aching pain in my chest? My heart shatters anew with each breath when we are apart. There is no part of me that does not cry out in anguish, no moment without desperate longing to be with you again. I would walk to you if only I knew where you were, if only they would let me slip free these bars. I would run to you, if only to feel the wind marking the steps that carry me forth. My darling, my only sweetling, how can we be kept from one another? This is true agony, this hell of their making. Return to me and we will share again the bliss of--
"Joe, shut up that damn dog already, for god's sake. You'd think she'll never see you again the way she goes on. Toss a blanket over the crate!"
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- Numbers: Write a poem or journal entry about numbers that have special meaning to you.
Picture it
Round
Enveloping
Symbol for naught
A concept
For the thought
Of emptiness
Deep and meaningful
As this poem
Which is to say
All sound & fury
Signifying nothing
At and all -
- Dread: Write about doing something you don’t want to do.
It's an honor, right? They say that over and over again. It's an honor to be chosen, you won't regret it in the end, it's hard but it's worth it. But will the honor of it carry me through the months that follow? Or will I be stuck late at night in my nightmares, or tossing and turning, unable to sleep at all for fear? Honor isn't an ingredient in sleeping pills, that's all I'm saying. I've seen what some honorees do. They get drunk, they live high, they toss themselves around like it's going out of style. Anything to forget the honor to come. I have to wonder if anyone's gotten out of it? If I cut my own face, would the honor go away? Maybe a missing finger or two? That would take courage. I'm not sure I've got that much. You're a candle! That's what my mom told me. You're a candle with two wicks! Burn bright! She sure thinks it's an honor. Of course she would, she gets to be my mom. At least dad is a little less certain. He watches me sadly when he thinks I'm not paying attention. Would it disappoint him if I tried to turn it down? Or would he secretly feel relieved? I'd have to go into hiding, of course. Nobody would look at me straight on again in town if I refused. They'd pretend I don't exist anymore. You don't get to reject an honor. They'd probably do the same to my parents too, come to think of it. I couldn't do that to him. So that's that. It's an honor. She's beautiful in her own way, I guess? A few months of engagement, then the wedding night. At least it'll be quick. That's the honorable part.
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You're scary good at this.
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- Fear: What scares you a little? What do you feel when scared? How do you react?
Imagine a zipper down a bit from the base of your skull. That's right, right there. Do you have the spot? No, no, no need to touch it, just... imagine. Picture the little metal tab resting cold against that knobby bone at the top of your spine. It's cold the way a zipper gets cold in the winter when you've been out and about. That kind of chill. Now, when the moment comes, you're going to react without thinking. Fight, flight, freeze. You look like a freezer to me, but I've been wrong before. I need you to just breathe for me, okay? Remember that. Breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth, just like that, you've got it now. On the exhale, I want you to imagine the zipper-pull lifting away from your skin. You can feel the tug of it, right? The steel teeth are firm, but their seams are more flexible. On the inhale... up. Up up up up, there we go, smooth and easy, unzip upwards, there you go, picture all that hair and skin falling away, exposing the bone beneath, you're still safe! Bone's still there, no worries, there we go, just let the breeze caress, you're fine, it's all fine. This next bit is a little harder, but you've come this far, you can do it. When you picture the bone open, that's when you'll react, okay? Just be ready to breathe through it. No fight, no flight, freeze if you must. This is all imaginary, all in your head, we're only playing a game. Now.
Imagine a
Meh. I was aiming for a fear of exposure (brain exposure that is) with a hint of mental coercion or attempt to Get In? But I don't like it. It's stuck in my head so I dunno I'll be able to write anything else for the prompt, but I think what's above is too nebulous. Too insinuation, not enough clarity. MEH.
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@Derp: Join in! Write something with me for one or some of the prompts, either piggy-backing off of or entirely anew. Thank you for letting me know you enjoy them.
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- Closed Doors: What’s behind the door? Why is it closed? (Another one for my gaming group's sake.)
Focus of Will, an exerpt
There is within you a space you have not dared approach. It is shut away, locked up, hidden behind barriers to keep you safe. You know it is there, but it has always been easier to let it be. Why glance at what is dangerous? So you continue your life closed, dammed, blocked. You may stop reading now and go on without fear. It will not harm you to stop. It is the way others live, and if they do not touch their own power, so you might refuse as well.
Or you may read on and search for it within yourself. The space may be vast, or it may be shallow. All men carry differing depths. Later lessons will guide you towards greater strength if you are willing to put forth the effort. But you must begin by finding what exists now. Knowing yourself in this way requires clear vision and wisdom. What is must be acknowledged before what comes may be sought.
This first lesson will take time, as all lessons will. Do not think there is a way to speed this course. As a man must ingrain the lessons of a sword into his body, so too you must fasten these lessons into your mind and spirit. Once begun, they will not end. Having tasted the power residing within you, your thirst will be forever unquenched. Know this. Own this truth as your own: once begun, you will always want more. You may stop reading now and go on content enough. It will not harm you to stop. It is the way others live, and if they are satisfied with so little, so you might be.
Or you may read on; to begin requires inner sight. Cast your mind back through your life. Find those moments when you Wanted. When the urge to be more, do more, have more, rose within you in a great swell... and was set aside for lack of response. These memories may be tiny things from childhood. Search there for the first. Do not find any such memory and settle for it. To know the space within where power rests anticipating your arrival, you must be willing to delve deepest into your Self.
To attempt this feat should instill restlessness. You will wonder if it is worth this trouble. You will ask if you have truly found the first memory, or if this is all a sham. These thoughts are tangent, your own mind attempting to draw you away from the power you seek. To be a man of substance, of Will, you must set trace on these impulses and use them for your benefit. To a man of Will, the mind is a horse in harness, set to task and driven to complete it. You may stop reading now and go on without Will. It will not harm you to stop. It is the way others live, and if they are uncontrolled, so they are also powerless in turn, so you might follow their path.
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- Shadow: Imagine you are someone’s shadow for a day.
Have y'ever noticed that when yer shifting from light t'darkness, you kin feel the glare right on up until the tippy-top of yer own personal shadow disappears into the larger ones 'round you? That's when yer safe. That's how y'know. They used to think they'd done 'nuff by standing in th'shadows directly. But that weren't good'nuff. Them slow growing blisters and weeping red spots, they were proof they hadn't moved far 'nuff into th'shade. They had juuuust enough protection t'slow down the pro-gression, but not 'nuff to stop'em flat. So they died. It wasn't nice to watch, I tell you what. That much sun... if y'get a full dose, at least it's quick. But slow like that? When they'dve done been fine if they'd just taken half-step further in? It was a bad way to go. Nowadays they've got them wide hats, so you really only have t'watch for hands and feet getting too much sun, or sometimes some bit of mirror shining at the wrong angle. Moonlight's not much better, though it's easier t'get to in time. I hear there's people who spend their whole lives inside rooms without windows, just so's they can actually walk around without layers. Crazy! We may rush on over to th'shadows for protection, but that don't mean we worship them. I gotta wonder sometimes iffin letting th'plants get so much sunlight means we're eatin' alla that bad stuff? Th'sun only went wrong a coupla years ago. We ain't had time t'see what it'll do to our insides.
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- Good Vibes: What makes you smile? What makes you happy?
Science tells us that there's math involved. That if you know the formula, you can work out the exact numbers. But the variables change and fluctuate so often that everyone gets a different result. I'm not sure if that means the formula is broken, or if we're just not meant to know. Either one is frustrating.
So here's the problem. There's a true, finite amount of Happiness in the world. I know, right? Crazy! But that's what the scientists say. They've measured it, that's how they came up with their formula. That problem's bad enough. Anything finite is a resource, a commodity to be bought, sold, traded, fought for, hoarded. More valuable than gold! Certainly more than diamonds, considering how that's jacked up.
But there's a step further in the problem. You see, the scientists haven't just measured it. They figured out how to give some of it to you. At least they did it open source. Anyone can get a bit of Happy anytime they want, it's not a rehash of that old saying about money buying the stuff. Only because it's finite, anytime you get some, you're stealing it from someone else. Before, when we didn't realize, it just happened. Constant ebb and flow, no problem, life is like that.
Except now when you bump into that great moment, or if you reach out for some deliberately... you know. You're stealing it, pulling that Happy out of someone else's life to enjoy for yourself. It makes it harder to be Happy, I think. There are whole churches built up these days around the idea of finding Happiness in being Unhappy. Somehow you deliberately being Unhappy is supposed to make the world better? But it's finite, so I'm not quite sure how they work that bit of mental gymnastics. All I do know is that it's hard to really relax into the moment anymore. But if I'm not using my own moments of Happy properly, does that mean someone else is? Someone who doesn't care as much as I do about the theft?
If they try to tell us that Love or Friendship or Contentment are all finite too, I think I might have a conniption fit. There are so many things to be other than Happy, it's not a single trade-off. At least... they haven't figured out the formulas for the other emotions yet. Either way, I think I'd be Happier if I didn't know. And isn't that just the worst.
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- Shopping: Write about your shopping wishlist and how you like to spend money.
A new pancreas. Skin without flaws. Eyes that don't squint. A little taller, perhaps a (heavy) touch better metabolism. An urge to exercise that doesn't exist now, so it'll need to be added in whole-cloth. Longer, thicker hair, and make it red on its own instead of through a bottle. The snoring can go, and the sinus issues too. That's it. That's all. Just... almost everything, really. There are parts I'll keep, I'm not greedy. The blue in my eyes is fine, I'm content with the heft of my 'assets' above the waist. Brain's a bit too complex, we'll leave it be, and I don't mind the fish-belly pale. Gender's all good, though if the cramps can go, that'd be keen. I know all the list is on back-order, but I tell you what. That new body will be something when it finally shows up.
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@emmahsue said in 365 Prompts:
- Shopping: Write about your shopping wishlist and how you like to spend money.
They say money doesn't bring happiness.
It may not bring happiness wrapped in sparkling paper topped in a neat bow or a gift bag bursting with zigzag-cut pieces of confetti and a neatly penned note card from a dear friend, but money brings other things. Money brings relief. Money brings an easement to worry and concern. Money brings another month of warmth and shelter. Money brings a late night surprise of food that leads to laughter and bonding. Money is the plastic card or crumpled slip of colored paper that passes hands before two bright faces pass into a dark auditorium to see their dreams upon a two-story screen only to talk about it for hours over cups of coffee gone cold.
Money doesn't bring happiness, but she is the fuel in the vehicle. She is the guiding hand at the wheel. Money is the lubrication in the gears.
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A classic opening line, Auspice! I almost went with it, but I didn't feel I had anything strong enough to say. I really like the paragraph's first sentence in run-on breathless fashion, followed by the abruptness of the second sentence. They're lovely together.
ES
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@emmahsue said in 365 Prompts:
A classic opening line, Auspice! I almost went with it, but I didn't feel I had anything strong enough to say. I really like the paragraph's first sentence in run-on breathless fashion, followed by the abruptness of the second sentence. They're lovely together.
ES
Thank you. Figured while I was sitting and waiting to be seen at the clinic, I'd give it a shot.
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@emmahsue said in 365 Prompts:
Fear: What scares you a little? What do you feel when scared? How do you react?
I make the call, knowing that what we did made little difference. I arrive, all smartly turned out, with all of the gadgets of my trade, knowing none of them change what faces me behind that front door. The polite, tidy, terribly middle-class front door, painted pale blue. I hesitate before I knock, resisting the urge to flee from this. As the door opens, I put my best Gentle Smile on my face. Sympathetic, warm, just enough to make them feel confident in me, in my abilities, in my knowledge. As they let me into their home, I watch her movements, I watch the pain and the shuffling. I see the decline, the small marks time and disease have made on her. We have the conversations, all the time avoiding what should be said, that nothing will change this. Their confidence in me is misplaced. My ability to fix this is nil. Fear. The fear of being found out, of being declared a fraud, a failure. The fear of their response when they realise that all I can offer now is a shoulder to cry on, and a pair of sympathetic ears. I sit there, cradling the cup of tea, listening to their stories of their day, nodding and giving that Gentle Smile. The urge to fix things, to make it better, is crushed by the unsurmountable truth. Death wins.
Dunno if that fits for fear but there you go. My first try
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"The polite, tidy, terribly middle-class front door, painted pale blue."
This line feels like it's what... solidifies? the whole thing, @JinShei. Because anyone can have a door like that; it's the only declarative-descriptive sentence in there, bringing it Present and now I kinda want to get my front door painted a new color.
ES
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- The Professor: Write about a teacher that has influenced you.
The first step to meditation isn't really a step after all since you're sitting still but we call them steps which is such a silly thing when you stop and think about it though you understand we're not stopping to think about things in meditation because it's about not thinking about things so put that right out of your mind and focus instead on your breathing which is the first step followed closely thereafter by the second step and again I will reiterate you are not actually stepping anywhere except maybe deeper into your own mind the way a spiral staircase drops slowly into the dark where the water laps up against the bottom-most riser and you're going lower even as the waves lift higher with each slow breath in and out like in step one so keep remembering that step while we move on to step two which is to imagine the staircase under your hand and under your feet so you can feel the wood or the metal or the stone sliding beneath your fingers and the sound of your footsteps as you take a step down towards the dark waters that wait below but please don't actually rise up and find a staircase in your body because this is meditation and we've only just gotten to step two when we should be on step four or five by now but you keep distracting me which is what's making this whole meditation instruction so very hard to follow through properly but don't worry we'll talk about step three next and that's when you layer in the sounds around you next like that humming electricity that's always around us in the modern world only leave that behind because it's not helpful for meditation unless you're going to let it fill you up with the fuzzy hum of it all to help you drift down but there's no rush to it you can take your time and get there when you're ready the water is waiting and by the time we're at step ten you'll have drowned in it.
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- Rewrite a Poem: Take any poem or short story you find anywhere. Rewrite it in your own words.
O let me sing to you of that gently-tended sweet-scented boundlessly delightful home nestled in the deep-rooted well-flowered endlessly pleasant fields.
O let me sing to you of the high-walled smoothly-arched artlessly graceful home stretched alongside the swift-flowing earth-shearing benficently holy river.
O let me sing to you of that heart-rending soul-touching agonizingly beautiful home created around the hush-inducing light-swallowing always greening trees.
O let me sing to you of Xanadu and Kubla Khan its king.
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- Jewelry: Write about a piece of jewelry. Who does it belong to? (For my D&D gaming group's paladin-player)
A Warning Tale, as told to Catherine Stonebound by a paladin of Pelor
They asked why she was out alone on the road, of course. That sweet, sad-eyed girl with her clothing rumpled and her face wan. They plied her with spells of true sight, with words meant to gauge her honesty, with a brief glimpse at her heart to see if she was evil. In the end, they let her stay the night by their fire. She was, in fact, just a girl. She'd lost her parents in an attack and was out searching for a place to settle down. No, no, not searching for heroes to set the matter right. She knew exactly who'd done the deed. No, no, she'd handle the situation herself, in her own time.
What does it take for a girl, fifteen if she was a day, to take up a knife? What leverage comes to bear, that she feels a need to kneel next to a sleeping knight with that blade bared? She knew exactly who'd taken her parents from her, after all. He was wearing the spoils. If those parents were bandits, if they deserved what they got for their temerity, did that mean they had no family? No daughter to demand their rings back from the thumb of a man who'd thought it pretty enough to keep? There was no evil in her heart, but that didn't mean she couldn't be driven by sorrow to strike out. There was no evil in her heart, but that didn't stop the ingrained reflexes that returned the blow.
If she'd asked, they'd have given her the rings. What's a bauble to a proper adventurer, in the end. But that wouldn't bring her parents back. It wouldn't return her to her home. It wouldn't stop the tears. Adventurers are like the weather, like a gift from the gods. There's no telling when or where, only that the world will be shaken to its core for someone before they leave.
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- Sounds: Sit outside for about an hour. Write down the sounds you hear.
You want to know what it sounds like? OK then. You go on and get your hands wet, and soap'em up a little. Then you just sorta rub them against each other, real slow. That wet, squelching sound? That's what it sounded like! Don't you believe nobody who tries to tell you it's too quiet to hear, got me? It happened to me, and I remember to this day what it sounds like, and it wasn't silent, no matter what them television shows try to tell you. Now, I know you gotta lesson about it in that school of yours, and that's all fine. I'm not trying to say your teacher's lying to you, I'm just saying if she wasn't going through it, how can she really know? All she knows is what she's told too. But I did, so I know. First it sounds like when you take a bite of an appl-- you don't know what that's like, I forgot they're all gone now. OK then. When you take a bite of a real fresh ration bar, them ones that have the crispy edges. Take a tiny bite of that, nibble crunch in little bites. That's what it sounded like first. Then you get your raspy-slick sound I told you about earlier, and that goes on for a while. If you're lucky, someone'll notice you're staring funny, and they'll come help you out. Just gotta find the tail and pull it out, like my pap did for me. He didn't know what it was of course, we didn't have no lessons in them schools about it yet. But he saw it wriggling and he yanked it right on out with his old pliers. He told me later I was bleeding for a while, and I never did hear so good after. But it didn't get too much, so I can't complain! You pay attention now, you got me? If you hear that crunchy-wet-squelchy sound on the inside, you run on over to your pap or me. We'll do you up good.
