QOTD: Imma' keep running 'cause a winner don't quit on themselves. - Beyonce`
Hey,
I know I keep saying how much I love to write, so why don't I give you a little snippet of what I like to do to improve myself. Everyday this week I wrote a short passage in response to a prompt that I've found on Pinterest.
By the way here's my Pinterest.
Comment on the 'Comments on My Site' page which one was your favourite and you think I should elaborate on and finish writing. I already have a brief ending figured out for Thursday's and an idea of a story that I could do in relation to Tuesday's story about one of Elliots sister's..... BUT NO SPOILERS! Now what are you waiting for? Get reading!
(BOLD + ITALIC = prompt// HIGHLIGHTED IN BLUE= where prompt is from)
Here goes nothin':
Monday
Prompt by; The Daily Prompt.
'I was not the only one born during a solar eclipse, so chances are I'm not the only one that can do things normal people can't do. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah....'
My head lolls gently to the side as my attention fades from the lame school play going on in front of me.
Ollie, my classmate, is the star and talks in a dumb British accent, which, in my opinion, slightly resembles the Queens's accent.... while she's being murdered. The play isn't meant to be a British one, everyone else talks in an Australian accent, but his accent supposedly helps him stay in character, if his character is an annoying, vain, stupid -
Okay, so maybe I just don't like Ollie that much.
Top Ten Reasons Why I Hate Oliver Lee Caspar
1. He refuses to go by his real name - Oliver.
2. He viciously stole my best friend from me right under my nose with his charm and good looks.... that aren't even that good if you ask me.
3. He always smells of strawberry. Who wants to smell strawberry all the time? Not me.
4. He viciously stole my best friend from me.
5. He is a best friend breaker-upper-er (even though we haven't officially broken up yet I can feel it coming)
6. His teeth are too white, they hurt my eyes they're so white. That cannot be natural.
7. He brutally stole my best friend from me.
8. He's all my best friend - Amy - who he knowingly and slyly stole talks about; example/s: " Wow Ollie is so cool!"; "Let's go hang out with Ollie!"; "I wish Ollie was in our class!' SHUT UP WITH THE OLLIE!
9. He is practically pure evil
10. He makes me feel like a shaken up Coke bottle - like I want to explode - and shoot my burning fizz up his nose, into his brain where it can do permanent damage and he dies a very painful and lonely death..... or maybe it could just hurt, alot.
Ollie isn't even that great an actor. He was only cast because the play was made by the students this year (which Mr Stanley, was a horrible idea) and Amy, my best friend with a creepy obsession with him was the director.
Next thing I know there's a rather half-hearted applause coming from the bored parents and teachers sitting around me.
Oh yeah, did I mention I'm not in the play? Yeah. Amy just left me in a corner while she casted Ollie, talked with Ollie, sat with Ollie, stalked Ollie.
Is she serious? I'm her best friend, replaced by her fantasy boyfriend.
Tuesday
Prompt by: Michaella Bressler
"Pass me the remote."
"You have legs"
"I was shot in both knees!"
"You still have legs."
That's me, Elliot, and my friend Phil talking. We were both veterans in our day. Phil is the one with the shot knees. That happened during the war. The World War. Number Two to be exact.
I'll give you a little insight into my life during the war;
My Dad and youngest sister moved to Melbourne, Australia when the war first began and then halfway through the war my other sister left to go to Australia too, Mum didn't go with her. As my sister's train took off from London some bombs were dropped and my mother, who was seeing her off was killed...
While all this was happening I was recruited to go fight in the war. Here is my story, how I spent the war. The kind of pain I went through with all the other soldiers out on the battle field. Listen to my story. Go through it with me.
Okay, let's fast forward past the introduction to the army and all that boring stuff. All I'm going to say on that subject is the living conditions were appalling. We were not at all comfortable, safe or happy. All in all it was a hellish experience. Though to make it better by a smidgen, smidgen , mind you, I met a man called Jake, he was all I needed. He was my best friend with his humour, kind heart and warm spirit. Everyone in the army loved him like a brother.
Every time we fought we had no idea if our friends or even ourselves would survive and come back, we didn't know if we'd ever see these people again. Every time we went out to fight we tried to make every goodbye heartfelt so if somebody did leave we'd have said a proper goodbye. I'm so glad we did that.
"Hey Elliot," whispers Jake smiling stupidly as we prepare to start firing.
"Jake." I reply bending my knees slightly.
"Wanna hear a joke?" Jake was always laughing and making jokes at the most inappropriate times, but they always made me feel better so I smiled at him and he began to tell his joke, his mouth stretching into a smile and a musical laugh escaping his mouth as we begin to run. But sadly, before anything else can come an agonising scream rings out through the battle field. Jake's scream. The world feels like it's ending as I watch the fast and prepared medics pull him onto the stretcher. I feel like I'm in one of those really dramatic movies where horrible things go down in slow motion. My heart breaks as I wonder if he'll survive. Will he die of blood loss? Where was he shot? Can they save him?
I can see a man I vaguely know running, screaming, tears running down his cheeks like rivers. I run up to him. I think his name is Phil. Next thing I know Phil is on the floor. Shot in both knees. I have no clue what to do with this man howling in pain at my feet. Jake would know what to do, but I can see the medics obviously giving up on him and gently laying him next to their 'tent and my heart is torn apart as tears threaten, but I must stay focused and help Phil. All I can think is; 'What would Jake do?' but he's dead now, gone, forever.
Wednesday
Prompt by: TheFakeRedHead.com
"As if dying isn't bad enough, now I have to pay to get into the afterlife?"
"It's not a great expense, in fact, it benefits you!" replies the gatekeeper shifting his weight to one side, "they'll be with you this way."
"Yes, but it'll be my fault. I will be a murderer."
"Not if you take your Grandma's life, I bet she's waiting."
"She died yesterda-," I pause, confused, hurt, flattered yet offended. "She killed me didn't she?" I take one look at the gatekeepers face and it's confirmed. "She killed me. I was the loved one she killed to get into the afterlife."
A sudden eerie, dark cold takes over the entrance to Heaven, or The Afterlife."You realise," a new breathy voice that slightly resembles a hiss interjects. The new creature is a rotting skeleton hidden beneath a black cloak with dark, hollowed out sockets for eyes and dead, mattered hair, "that if you don't kill someone now, instantly, painlessly, you will be stuck between the living and the dead forever. Even to get into Hell you have to give a loved one a fatal illness." the creature continues. Death?
I nod and gulp. "I- I - I'm not a murde-" my voice cracks and I break off there.
"You're just like your Grandma. Stubborn. Determined. Noble." He says that last one as if he's talking about gum on his shoe.... or apparently bare feet.
I can suddenly feel my memories fading, fading, fading. He's changing my memories I know it.
"She killed you so you could escape the abuse that was your childhood," as he says this I begin to see the abuse, the pain.
No! I tell myself. Death is greedy, they're not real, this is probably what he did to Grandma too-
"Ooooohhh!" Death squeals mockingly. "We have a fighter here, don't we! DELENS!" He hisses and makes a dramatic swish of his bony arm towards me.
What was I thinking? I ask myself, this is correct! Death is good.
"Kill Jenny." The words escape my mouth before I can stop them...
Thursday
Prompt by: Prompturium
I often get mistaken for my twin sister. It never used to bother me, but now that she's become the most dangerous crime boss in the country it's starting to get awkward, especially if you go into the times like these:
"Ahhhh! Millie Murder has dressed up as a police officer!"
or
"MILLIE MURDER IS GOING TO KILL US ALL CALL THE POLICE.....WAIT! SHE IS THE POLICE!"
Yeah. I'm a police officer so getting mistaken for my twin has nearly lost me my job several times. Mum has suggested plastic surgery so that I don't get mistaken for Millie, but really I just think it's too hard for her to look at me and know that my other half has gone mad with the idea of crime.
As you can probably guess from her name, Millie is a mass murderer, as well as a thief, kidnapper and unconfirmed terrorist. Harsh.
It's really hard on me too. Growing up we were so alike, we basically were each other. Now my fun, determined, funny side is gone. Gone to crime. Gone to madness. Gone to a place where we can't get her back. Ever.
The Police force think that I should be the one to catch her and bring her to justice because I knew her best. I don't know if I can do that, I said yes anyway though. I have a feeling I just signed myself up to a whole lot of inescapable pain and a brutal and diminishing death.
Friday
Prompt By: Writespiration
At birth, everyone has the date they are meant to die tattooed on their arm. I was meant to have died yesterday.
28/6/2135. That's what my tattoo reads. Today is the 29/6/2135. What went wrong? is the question that I keep I rolling around in my head repetitively.
When I told my Mum she immediately told a medical professional, who, having never been confronted with the problem before, told us to go to the mayor who made me leave. He was kind enough to give me a small kit to keep me alive, but thence banished me muttering something about having to re-read some prophecy history book. I've been out here in the bush for a total of three hours, three long hours, and the smell of animal poo is not showing any sign of fading.... ever.
I finish doing my business behind a tree and head back towards my 'DIY' shelter made out of odd twigs and branches, stuck together with some sloppy, smelly stuff I found, which, now that I think about it, probably should not have touched. Uck!
Anyway, back to the shelter,it's not the best but I have decided that it will suffice for today. As the afternoon moves into evening I bend down and gingerly light a fire using a lighter that was in the kit the mayor gave me. Just as I stand back up I see a long, flexible arrow dart past my ear as a man covered in body paint screams a battle cry and his 'friends' I suppose come and join him.
The man steps forward, bow and arrow raised, prepared for a fight. He says a string of words in some exotic language that i can't understand so I just furrow my brows and briefly over-run my story with them.
"I was meant to die yesterday," I begin, speaking slowly and clearly whilst showing off the tattoo so that they understand better. "When the mayor found out he banished me. I mean no harm."
A chorus of whispers ring in my ears as the chief seems to translate my words for the rest of his tribe.
"Chosen One, come with us." Says the chief.
"Chosen One?" I wonder aloud, allowing myself to be pulled along by the chief of the tribe.
Saturday
Prompt by: Halloway's Hideaway
I didn't think they existed but one is staring right at me.
"I just can't believe it!" I say staring in awe, "it's a real, live extrovert!"
"Well duh Megan! You're at a party, stupid!" My best friend Lillyanne rolls her eyes at me playfully and introduces herself, "Hi! I'm Lillyanne, and this is my friend Megan. As you can see, she's an introvert and is very excited about meeting you. A real, live extrovert!" she copies my awe-struck expression and we all laugh.
Lillyanne is great at being social. She's funny, cool, kind and polite. She says all th right things. Sometimes I even think she might be an extrovert just like Maya, the extrovert we're talking to.
"Well, as an extrovert I am equally as awe-struck as you to see an introvert! Two even!" I instantly warm up to Maya and we talk late into the night. Megan and I get picked up and we planned a sleepover together, but last minute I decide to invite Maya....
Sunday
Prompt By: Writespration
Every person is born with a twin. One is good, one is bad. Your twin died at birth; the government isn't sure which one you are. They make their best guess and send you to one of the territories when you turn sixteen. They send you to the wrong one.
I wake up in hospital with many doctors and nurses examining me, trying to find out which twin I am.
"Okay," says the head doctor, "I think I know which one she is. Take her to the Good Territory before today is out."
The Good Territory is large and green, we get to stay in a large mansion before we finish school and make a life for ourselves. All the girls are kind and welcoming. Too welcoming. I feel as though I don't belong, so I start off small; you know, pranks, scaring people, insulting. Everyone in the Good Territory hates me- I have nothing to lose, so I step it up a notch....
Thanks for reading! Don't forget to comment the one you liked best and think I should elaborate on and finish. Like, Subscribe and share. See you next week!
