25 points
thirteen writing prompts by ambitron indifornian
July 12th, 2006 7:59 PM
one
Write a scene showing a man and a woman arguing over the man's friendship with a former girlfriend. Do not mention the girlfriend, the man, the woman, or the argument.
It was a cold night and the car windows were steamed up, condensation fogging up the inside. But, it was a night quite the opposite of pleasure, parked at Makeout Point. two. Write a short scene set at a lake, with trees and shit. Throw some birds in there, too.
It was not a particularly a cool evening, but enough for her hoodie to be zipped up. The smell of jasmine and honeysuckle hung heavy in the air as the sunset turned the sky pink and the surface of the water bright gold. She looked over to her left and saw the last of the campers arriving from their afternoon hike and back to their small shelters among the trees. A few kids were tossing stale bread to the ducks lazily floating around in the pond. As she got up off the rocks, she smiled at them and then walked back to the cabin. three. Choose your favorite historical figure and imagine if he/she had been led to greatness by the promptings of an invisible imp living behind his or her right ear. Write a story from the point of view of this creature. Where did it come from? What are its goals? Use research to make your story as accurate as possible.
I am not an imp, I am a pixie. And yes, there is a difference. I was once a figment of his imagination, a muse. But, then I was promoted to full blown dictatorship and I live behind Andy's left ear. I moved in here about 10 years ago, right after he began working at those department stores downtown. But, that was no fun for me, so I took over. Hanging out in those places will do nothing but get you a job working 9-5 in a stuffy suit. No way, we need to party! That's why I told him that we needed to start hanging out with all those party kids. Seriously. And, look what it did for him. He's got the Velvet Underground, gets to video tape all these hot models...and he doesn't even have to make art anymore. He has someone else do it! Admit it, it's everyone's dream to be an enigma and I made it happen for him. Be jealous. I know you are. four. Write a story that ends with the following sentence: Debra brushed the sand from her blouse, took a last, wistful look at the now putrefying horse, and stepped into the hot-air balloon.
She awoke on the beach to the fierce smell of vomit and burning flesh. Brushing the hair out of her eyes, Debra sat up and saw her house in front of her. "What?!", she gasped in disbelief as a firey black corpse fell out of her bedroom window. Shocked and surprised she turned and ran to the only place that had ever given her comfort, the barn on the far end of the ranch. The sky was thick with smoke, making Debra cough and stutter her steps. She finally reached the barn and threw open the door. There she found the skin covered skeleton of her beloved horse, Dusty. She dropped to her knees sobbing and stroking the bones where Dusty's muzzle once was. A man in a top hat stepped into the barn doorway and a shadow fell over the space. Debra turned in his direction. "Father!", she said, relieved. He held out his hand and motioned for her to come with him outside. Debra brushed the sand from her blouse, took a last, wistful look at the now putrefying horse, and stepped into the hot air balloon. five. A wasp called the tarantula hawk reproduces by paralyzing tarantulas and laying its eggs into their bodies. When the larvae hatch, they devour the still living spider from the inside out. Isn't that fucked up? Write a short story about how fucked up that is.
I do think that it is fucked up. I mean, how can a species so obviously take advantage of another species? I know that humans have, but were more devious. Or maybe the tarantula hawks are just more outright, just going ahead and doing it. Is that better? Maybe. But, it's still fucked up. six. Imagine if your favorite character from 19th-century fiction had been born without thumbs. Then write a short story about them winning the lottery.
Huck ran down the dusty road to the store dollar bills held between his fingers. He shouted: "I won the lottery! The lottery!". People stared. This kid always had stories. He ran into the country store letting the door slam behind him and dropped all of the money on the counter. "Give me as much sweets as you can", he ordered. Mr. Smith, behind the counter nodded and pushed over a large bag of candy. Huck excitedly exited the store and out on the street. Kids surrounded him almost immediately, begging for just one morsel. "No!", he shouted and ran off down the street. He ran and ran, but could not hold the bag. The candy started spilling out behind him and by the time he got to his tree to gobble it down, it was gone. seven. Write a story that begins with a man throwing handfuls of $100 bills from a speeding car, and ends with a young girl urinating into a tin bucket.
The limo sped down the street weaving in and out of other vehicles and dodging pedestrians. It squealed down a dark alley, a man hanging out the sunroof thrusting handfuls of $100 bills into the air. The car lurched out of the dark alley and into the traffic of Market Street, turning into traffic before continuing up Larkin.
Charlotte, who had been standing on the sidewalk, had witnessed the whole thing. She peeked down the alley, seeing the bills scattered on the wet ground. She quickly looked around, seeing nothing but the normal: people crossing the street on their cell phones, cars stopping at the stoplight. She scampered into the alley and hurriedly gathered as many bills as she could before becoming so overwhelmed by guilt and fright. Charlotte stuffed all of the bills into one of the shopping bags she carried and quickly continued her walk to the Civic Center BART station.
The entire ride home, her right hand was near her mouth, teeth biting nails and her right hand clutching the bag that carried the mysterious money. She arrived at her stop and scurried down 24th street to her third floor flat. When she arrived home, Charlotte ran up the stairs two at a time into her her apartment and then into her room, locking the door tightly behind her. She shrugged of her jacket and kicked off her shoes, before dumping the shopping bag onto her bed. The money poured out. She stared at it, eyes wide. Charlotte had never in her life seen this much money in one place. The amount that displayed itself was far more than she could hope to make in a year at her office assistant job downtown. Charlotte scooped up the bills and counted each out carefully. There was around $30000 sitting in front of her. The regular, sober minded Charlotte would have never even entered the alley, but this was money, something she had never seen too much of.
Charlotte looked at the clock, it was now 7PM. She grabbed a good amount of the cash and ran out side to hail a cab. She exited the cab on Van Ness and walked one block up to the car dealership, confidently opening the door and straight to the salesman sitting at the desk with the phone against his ear. He looked at her, confused at her glow. Yes, Charlotte is a very beautiful girl; effortless long wavy dark hair, bright blue eyes and freckles scattered across her softly upturned nose. He hung up the phone. "Yes?", he said. "Hi. I'm Charlotte Benson and I'd like that car right over there", she answered, pointing to the car in the front near the window. "Oh, you'd like to know more about the Porche? Well, it's used, but in great condition. The previous owner...". "No", she cut him off, "I want to buy it. Now." "Oh, well we have a wonderful finance program right now". "No", she pulled the cash out of her bag, "Buy. Now. Here." She dropped the cash on his desk and some of it tumbled onto the floor. "Oh", he stared wide eyed, first at her and then at the cash on the desk. He skeptically drew up the paperwork, expecting there to be some hitch, but there was none. He slid the keys and his business card over to her. "Thank you", she said nervously.
She drove out the side door of the dealership and out into the traffic of evening Van Ness with a sense of elation. This is the first car that she had ever driven, much less owned. She sped all around town that night, everywhere that she could.
It was 5AM when she pulled up to the intersection a few blocks from her house. She closed her eyes for a few moments at the red light to re-evaluate the day's events. More quickly than she could respond, the car door opened and she was pulled to the ground before passing out cold on the pavement of 24th Street. She awoke a few hours later rubbing a large bump on her head, sitting in the gutter. Charlotte's jacket was torn and she was missing her shoes. She pushed herself up carefully, trying to regain feeling in her legs. Charlotte stumbled back to her apartment and tried the door. It wouldn't open. She felt around in her pockets for her keys. No keys, no cell phone, no money, nothing. Nervous tears started falling down Charlotte's flushed cheeks. Not only was she dirty and scared, but she desperately needed to use the restroom. She banged on her front door, but no one answered. Charlotte's roommate must be at her boyfriend's house. "Dammit", she cursed, clutching her abdomen. She limped down the street looking for anything that would help her. A bucket caught her eye and she dragged it between two buildings before dropping her skivvies from beneath her skirt and squatting over the opening.
eight. A husband and wife are meeting in a restaurant to finalize the terms of their impending divorce. Write the scene from the point of view of a busboy snorting cocaine in the restroom.
Oh, man. Dude, that couple out there at the front table, they're totally getting a divorce. Good thing, too. The wife's tits are nice! But, I totally feel bad, man. She was all pissed coz I guess that the husband was sleeping with the babysitter and he's going to stay with her. What the fuck, man? I mean, the wife is hot! And she even put her credit card down when the bill came, I can't believe it! And the husband has been drinking the entire time. No wonder he'd do something retarded like sleeping with some 18 year old skank. nine. Think of the most important secret your best friend has ever entrusted you with. Write a story in which you reveal it to everyone. Write it again from the point of view of your friend. Does she want to kill you? How does she imagine doing it? Would she use a gun, or something crueler and more savage, like a baseball bat with nails in it?
We all met up at La Pinata around 8PM. As always, Dan and I arrived together and took consecutive seats at the crowded table. Pitchers of margaritas were passed around and appetizers ordered. Someone at the other end of the group mentioned that girl Julie that used to work with us. I nudged Dan in the side and then he piped up saying, "I saw her last week". A few sheets to the wind at this point, I snorted and began to laugh. "What", Sonja said, "What is so funny?". Everyone else followed in suite, asking the same question that Sonja had. I glanced at Dan, his face twisted into grimace. "Yeah, he saw her. He saw her naked! They got drunk and totally had sex!". The words flew out of my mouth before I could even process them. The table gasped and started giggling. I glanced again towards Dan. He was not there, but I saw the door close and his shape moving away and into the street.
Okay, someone has got to get Amber a life. All she cares about is sharing everyone elses' gossip and I cannot stand it. Sometimes, I feel like it's the only reason that she hangs out with me. Like the other night she picks me up to go to Ben's party. I only went with her because she has a car and I could get a ride. So, we show up and sit down. As always, she insists that I sit next to her. Everyone is there sitting at the table and someone mentions how Julie came in the store last week. Amber hates Julie and will talk so much shit about her anytime anyone brings her up. Well, yeah. Julie is kind of skanky, but it seems like Amber relishes any chance to talk shit. Of course Amber decides to make this little comment about Julie and then ends up telling the entire story of how me and Julie got sort of drunk last weekend and ended up having sex. I told Amber this in extreme confidence, but as always she decided to tell the whole table. Now, I can't get away from either her, Sonja, or Ben totally making fun of me. But, I guess I have to put up with it; they are the only ones that will hang out with me besides my cats.
ten. Popular music is often a good source of writing inspiration. Rewrite Bob Dylan's "Visions of Johanna" as a play.
[Joe stares across the high school hallway looking intimidated. His eyes lock on Johanna standing 20 feet way leaning against the lockers, chatting with friends. Another boy enters clipping Joe on the shoulder.]
Joe: [feeling his shoulder] Ow!
Tyler: Hey, dude. How's it going? How was your Europe vacation?
Joe: Oh, good. How was your summer?
Tyler: Great! We missed you on Marshall Avenue. It wasn't the same without you.
[They bell rings and the students head off to classes.]
[Joe sits in his classroom, dazed. His hand supports his chin and he stares blankly at the wall, thinking. He looks out the window into the hallway, seeing Johanna. She smiles and laughs and another boy grabs her and kisses her on the lips. He then sees that the boy is Tyler. The bell rings again and Joe buries his head in his hands.]
[Joe exits the school steps and walks down the street. Another boy enters beside him and hands him a cigarette.]
Joe: Thanks.
Zach: Yeah, no problem. I guess you saw Johanna and Tyler today.
Joe: [sighing] Yeah. Why did no one tell me?
Zach: I'm sorry. I guess no one had the heart, especially Tyler.
Joe: Yeah.
Zach: Wanna go to the party tonight?
Joe: Yeah, sure. At Melissa's right?
Zach: Yeah, I'll see you at 9PM.
[Zach exits stage and Joe keeps walking.]
[The two boys enter a party of dancing, shouting, rowdy teenagers. Zach sees someone he knows and leaves Joe's side. Joe hovers near the drink table, swallowing down spiked punch, becoming more and more drunk as the night goes on. Johanna dances close with Tyler as more and more teenagers exit the stage until all that is left is just Johanna and Joe. They sit side by side on the stage for a few moments before she exits, too. He stays on stage while her voice speaks to him. He is very drunk at this point.]
Johanna: Hello, Joe.
Joe: Hello, Johanna.
Johanna: I know you're in love with me.
Joe: I am.
Johanna: I know you've been in love with me since daycare.
Joe: Yes, why don't you love me back?
[He sobs into his hands.]
[Silence.]
eleven. Write a short scene in which one character reduces another to uncontrollable sobs without touching him or speaking.
He laid next to her on the bed. Shivering, he pulled the comforter up around his neck. He looked over at her. 'She's an angel', he thought before closing his eyes blissfully and turning onto his stomach. A few hours later, the alarm sounded. Usually she would reach over and smack the alarm before slipping back into slumber. But, not this morning. He watched her sit up as her phone rang. She looked at the caller ID, deciding whether or not to answer as, she looked over at him, still lying in bed as he feigned sleep. She quickly pulled on her pants and shirt, grabbing her keys and glasses off the table. A tear slipped down his cheek before being absorbed by the pillow. By the time the door closed, the pillow was wet and he shuddered in the bed, thinking of the least that could happen by the end of that day.
twelve. Your main character finds a box of scorched human hair. Whose is it? How did it get there?
That morning, I sauntered down Haight towards Walgreen's as I usually did on my days off. I had already moved my car to a spot where I would not have to think about it for a few days. As I crossed over Scott, something caught my eye. It was a small golden box about the size of a bar of soap. I walked over and picked it up off of the sidewalk. The box was embossed with flowers and vines and had small scalloped feet. I opened it up and inside lay a burned bunch of hair secured by a neatly tied velvet ribbon. It kind of grossed me out, so i didn't touch it, but tucked it into my messenger bag and continued on my way.
I entered Walgreen's and decided to go and take a look in the hair color aisle, as I always do. As I walked down the aisle, I saw a man at the other end near the pharmacy counter sobbing with his hand over the left side of his chest over his heart. He was speaking softly to the pharmacist and she shook her head in response. I stood and observed for a few moments before the man turned and saw me looking at him. I tried to look engrossed by Revlon, but it was too late. The man was almost halfway up the aisle. "Ma'am, ma'am. Can I ask you something", he questioned, voice quivering. "Uh, okay", I responded. "My wife died in a house fire last year. Here is her picture", he said, extending his hand in my direction, holding a tattered photo of an old woman. "Oh, I'm sorry", I responded, turning back to the hair color. "The only thing I have left of her is this photo and a lock of her hair", he continued, "Well, I did have the lock of her hair, but I lost it somehow". He looked down at his feet and I saw a tear drop to the floor. I opened my messenger bag and withdrew the small gold box. It caught his eye and he looked up in disbelief. "That's it!", he shouted, "Where did you find this?". I smiled, pressing the box into his hand before turning towards the door. As I exited the Walgreen's, I heard the man shouting happily through his tears. thirteen. A man has a terrifying dream in which he is being sawn in half. He wakes to find himself in the Indian Ocean, naked and clinging to a door; a hotel keycard is clenched in his teeth. Write what happens next.
Charlie is dazed when he wakes up clinging to the door from his hotel room, keycard clenched in his teeth. The sun breaks from between the clouds and warms his goosebumped buttocks. He shivers. He paddles around to view his surroundings. To his left is a far off strip of land and to his right is the expansive sea. Charlie hurriedly paddles towards the shore and is exhausted by the time the waves are placing him onto the sandy beach. He pushes himself up onto the shore, brushing the sand off his naked body and staring into the lush greenery in front of him. He steps into the woods, dropping the plastic key card into the open mouth of a snapping venus flytrap.
It was a cold night and the car windows were steamed up, condensation fogging up the inside. But, it was a night quite the opposite of pleasure, parked at Makeout Point. two. Write a short scene set at a lake, with trees and shit. Throw some birds in there, too.
It was not a particularly a cool evening, but enough for her hoodie to be zipped up. The smell of jasmine and honeysuckle hung heavy in the air as the sunset turned the sky pink and the surface of the water bright gold. She looked over to her left and saw the last of the campers arriving from their afternoon hike and back to their small shelters among the trees. A few kids were tossing stale bread to the ducks lazily floating around in the pond. As she got up off the rocks, she smiled at them and then walked back to the cabin. three. Choose your favorite historical figure and imagine if he/she had been led to greatness by the promptings of an invisible imp living behind his or her right ear. Write a story from the point of view of this creature. Where did it come from? What are its goals? Use research to make your story as accurate as possible.
I am not an imp, I am a pixie. And yes, there is a difference. I was once a figment of his imagination, a muse. But, then I was promoted to full blown dictatorship and I live behind Andy's left ear. I moved in here about 10 years ago, right after he began working at those department stores downtown. But, that was no fun for me, so I took over. Hanging out in those places will do nothing but get you a job working 9-5 in a stuffy suit. No way, we need to party! That's why I told him that we needed to start hanging out with all those party kids. Seriously. And, look what it did for him. He's got the Velvet Underground, gets to video tape all these hot models...and he doesn't even have to make art anymore. He has someone else do it! Admit it, it's everyone's dream to be an enigma and I made it happen for him. Be jealous. I know you are. four. Write a story that ends with the following sentence: Debra brushed the sand from her blouse, took a last, wistful look at the now putrefying horse, and stepped into the hot-air balloon.
She awoke on the beach to the fierce smell of vomit and burning flesh. Brushing the hair out of her eyes, Debra sat up and saw her house in front of her. "What?!", she gasped in disbelief as a firey black corpse fell out of her bedroom window. Shocked and surprised she turned and ran to the only place that had ever given her comfort, the barn on the far end of the ranch. The sky was thick with smoke, making Debra cough and stutter her steps. She finally reached the barn and threw open the door. There she found the skin covered skeleton of her beloved horse, Dusty. She dropped to her knees sobbing and stroking the bones where Dusty's muzzle once was. A man in a top hat stepped into the barn doorway and a shadow fell over the space. Debra turned in his direction. "Father!", she said, relieved. He held out his hand and motioned for her to come with him outside. Debra brushed the sand from her blouse, took a last, wistful look at the now putrefying horse, and stepped into the hot air balloon. five. A wasp called the tarantula hawk reproduces by paralyzing tarantulas and laying its eggs into their bodies. When the larvae hatch, they devour the still living spider from the inside out. Isn't that fucked up? Write a short story about how fucked up that is.
I do think that it is fucked up. I mean, how can a species so obviously take advantage of another species? I know that humans have, but were more devious. Or maybe the tarantula hawks are just more outright, just going ahead and doing it. Is that better? Maybe. But, it's still fucked up. six. Imagine if your favorite character from 19th-century fiction had been born without thumbs. Then write a short story about them winning the lottery.
Huck ran down the dusty road to the store dollar bills held between his fingers. He shouted: "I won the lottery! The lottery!". People stared. This kid always had stories. He ran into the country store letting the door slam behind him and dropped all of the money on the counter. "Give me as much sweets as you can", he ordered. Mr. Smith, behind the counter nodded and pushed over a large bag of candy. Huck excitedly exited the store and out on the street. Kids surrounded him almost immediately, begging for just one morsel. "No!", he shouted and ran off down the street. He ran and ran, but could not hold the bag. The candy started spilling out behind him and by the time he got to his tree to gobble it down, it was gone. seven. Write a story that begins with a man throwing handfuls of $100 bills from a speeding car, and ends with a young girl urinating into a tin bucket.
The limo sped down the street weaving in and out of other vehicles and dodging pedestrians. It squealed down a dark alley, a man hanging out the sunroof thrusting handfuls of $100 bills into the air. The car lurched out of the dark alley and into the traffic of Market Street, turning into traffic before continuing up Larkin.
Charlotte, who had been standing on the sidewalk, had witnessed the whole thing. She peeked down the alley, seeing the bills scattered on the wet ground. She quickly looked around, seeing nothing but the normal: people crossing the street on their cell phones, cars stopping at the stoplight. She scampered into the alley and hurriedly gathered as many bills as she could before becoming so overwhelmed by guilt and fright. Charlotte stuffed all of the bills into one of the shopping bags she carried and quickly continued her walk to the Civic Center BART station.
The entire ride home, her right hand was near her mouth, teeth biting nails and her right hand clutching the bag that carried the mysterious money. She arrived at her stop and scurried down 24th street to her third floor flat. When she arrived home, Charlotte ran up the stairs two at a time into her her apartment and then into her room, locking the door tightly behind her. She shrugged of her jacket and kicked off her shoes, before dumping the shopping bag onto her bed. The money poured out. She stared at it, eyes wide. Charlotte had never in her life seen this much money in one place. The amount that displayed itself was far more than she could hope to make in a year at her office assistant job downtown. Charlotte scooped up the bills and counted each out carefully. There was around $30000 sitting in front of her. The regular, sober minded Charlotte would have never even entered the alley, but this was money, something she had never seen too much of.
Charlotte looked at the clock, it was now 7PM. She grabbed a good amount of the cash and ran out side to hail a cab. She exited the cab on Van Ness and walked one block up to the car dealership, confidently opening the door and straight to the salesman sitting at the desk with the phone against his ear. He looked at her, confused at her glow. Yes, Charlotte is a very beautiful girl; effortless long wavy dark hair, bright blue eyes and freckles scattered across her softly upturned nose. He hung up the phone. "Yes?", he said. "Hi. I'm Charlotte Benson and I'd like that car right over there", she answered, pointing to the car in the front near the window. "Oh, you'd like to know more about the Porche? Well, it's used, but in great condition. The previous owner...". "No", she cut him off, "I want to buy it. Now." "Oh, well we have a wonderful finance program right now". "No", she pulled the cash out of her bag, "Buy. Now. Here." She dropped the cash on his desk and some of it tumbled onto the floor. "Oh", he stared wide eyed, first at her and then at the cash on the desk. He skeptically drew up the paperwork, expecting there to be some hitch, but there was none. He slid the keys and his business card over to her. "Thank you", she said nervously.
She drove out the side door of the dealership and out into the traffic of evening Van Ness with a sense of elation. This is the first car that she had ever driven, much less owned. She sped all around town that night, everywhere that she could.
It was 5AM when she pulled up to the intersection a few blocks from her house. She closed her eyes for a few moments at the red light to re-evaluate the day's events. More quickly than she could respond, the car door opened and she was pulled to the ground before passing out cold on the pavement of 24th Street. She awoke a few hours later rubbing a large bump on her head, sitting in the gutter. Charlotte's jacket was torn and she was missing her shoes. She pushed herself up carefully, trying to regain feeling in her legs. Charlotte stumbled back to her apartment and tried the door. It wouldn't open. She felt around in her pockets for her keys. No keys, no cell phone, no money, nothing. Nervous tears started falling down Charlotte's flushed cheeks. Not only was she dirty and scared, but she desperately needed to use the restroom. She banged on her front door, but no one answered. Charlotte's roommate must be at her boyfriend's house. "Dammit", she cursed, clutching her abdomen. She limped down the street looking for anything that would help her. A bucket caught her eye and she dragged it between two buildings before dropping her skivvies from beneath her skirt and squatting over the opening.
eight. A husband and wife are meeting in a restaurant to finalize the terms of their impending divorce. Write the scene from the point of view of a busboy snorting cocaine in the restroom.
Oh, man. Dude, that couple out there at the front table, they're totally getting a divorce. Good thing, too. The wife's tits are nice! But, I totally feel bad, man. She was all pissed coz I guess that the husband was sleeping with the babysitter and he's going to stay with her. What the fuck, man? I mean, the wife is hot! And she even put her credit card down when the bill came, I can't believe it! And the husband has been drinking the entire time. No wonder he'd do something retarded like sleeping with some 18 year old skank. nine. Think of the most important secret your best friend has ever entrusted you with. Write a story in which you reveal it to everyone. Write it again from the point of view of your friend. Does she want to kill you? How does she imagine doing it? Would she use a gun, or something crueler and more savage, like a baseball bat with nails in it?
We all met up at La Pinata around 8PM. As always, Dan and I arrived together and took consecutive seats at the crowded table. Pitchers of margaritas were passed around and appetizers ordered. Someone at the other end of the group mentioned that girl Julie that used to work with us. I nudged Dan in the side and then he piped up saying, "I saw her last week". A few sheets to the wind at this point, I snorted and began to laugh. "What", Sonja said, "What is so funny?". Everyone else followed in suite, asking the same question that Sonja had. I glanced at Dan, his face twisted into grimace. "Yeah, he saw her. He saw her naked! They got drunk and totally had sex!". The words flew out of my mouth before I could even process them. The table gasped and started giggling. I glanced again towards Dan. He was not there, but I saw the door close and his shape moving away and into the street.
Okay, someone has got to get Amber a life. All she cares about is sharing everyone elses' gossip and I cannot stand it. Sometimes, I feel like it's the only reason that she hangs out with me. Like the other night she picks me up to go to Ben's party. I only went with her because she has a car and I could get a ride. So, we show up and sit down. As always, she insists that I sit next to her. Everyone is there sitting at the table and someone mentions how Julie came in the store last week. Amber hates Julie and will talk so much shit about her anytime anyone brings her up. Well, yeah. Julie is kind of skanky, but it seems like Amber relishes any chance to talk shit. Of course Amber decides to make this little comment about Julie and then ends up telling the entire story of how me and Julie got sort of drunk last weekend and ended up having sex. I told Amber this in extreme confidence, but as always she decided to tell the whole table. Now, I can't get away from either her, Sonja, or Ben totally making fun of me. But, I guess I have to put up with it; they are the only ones that will hang out with me besides my cats.
ten. Popular music is often a good source of writing inspiration. Rewrite Bob Dylan's "Visions of Johanna" as a play.
[Joe stares across the high school hallway looking intimidated. His eyes lock on Johanna standing 20 feet way leaning against the lockers, chatting with friends. Another boy enters clipping Joe on the shoulder.]
Joe: [feeling his shoulder] Ow!
Tyler: Hey, dude. How's it going? How was your Europe vacation?
Joe: Oh, good. How was your summer?
Tyler: Great! We missed you on Marshall Avenue. It wasn't the same without you.
[They bell rings and the students head off to classes.]
[Joe sits in his classroom, dazed. His hand supports his chin and he stares blankly at the wall, thinking. He looks out the window into the hallway, seeing Johanna. She smiles and laughs and another boy grabs her and kisses her on the lips. He then sees that the boy is Tyler. The bell rings again and Joe buries his head in his hands.]
[Joe exits the school steps and walks down the street. Another boy enters beside him and hands him a cigarette.]
Joe: Thanks.
Zach: Yeah, no problem. I guess you saw Johanna and Tyler today.
Joe: [sighing] Yeah. Why did no one tell me?
Zach: I'm sorry. I guess no one had the heart, especially Tyler.
Joe: Yeah.
Zach: Wanna go to the party tonight?
Joe: Yeah, sure. At Melissa's right?
Zach: Yeah, I'll see you at 9PM.
[Zach exits stage and Joe keeps walking.]
[The two boys enter a party of dancing, shouting, rowdy teenagers. Zach sees someone he knows and leaves Joe's side. Joe hovers near the drink table, swallowing down spiked punch, becoming more and more drunk as the night goes on. Johanna dances close with Tyler as more and more teenagers exit the stage until all that is left is just Johanna and Joe. They sit side by side on the stage for a few moments before she exits, too. He stays on stage while her voice speaks to him. He is very drunk at this point.]
Johanna: Hello, Joe.
Joe: Hello, Johanna.
Johanna: I know you're in love with me.
Joe: I am.
Johanna: I know you've been in love with me since daycare.
Joe: Yes, why don't you love me back?
[He sobs into his hands.]
[Silence.]
eleven. Write a short scene in which one character reduces another to uncontrollable sobs without touching him or speaking.
He laid next to her on the bed. Shivering, he pulled the comforter up around his neck. He looked over at her. 'She's an angel', he thought before closing his eyes blissfully and turning onto his stomach. A few hours later, the alarm sounded. Usually she would reach over and smack the alarm before slipping back into slumber. But, not this morning. He watched her sit up as her phone rang. She looked at the caller ID, deciding whether or not to answer as, she looked over at him, still lying in bed as he feigned sleep. She quickly pulled on her pants and shirt, grabbing her keys and glasses off the table. A tear slipped down his cheek before being absorbed by the pillow. By the time the door closed, the pillow was wet and he shuddered in the bed, thinking of the least that could happen by the end of that day.
twelve. Your main character finds a box of scorched human hair. Whose is it? How did it get there?
That morning, I sauntered down Haight towards Walgreen's as I usually did on my days off. I had already moved my car to a spot where I would not have to think about it for a few days. As I crossed over Scott, something caught my eye. It was a small golden box about the size of a bar of soap. I walked over and picked it up off of the sidewalk. The box was embossed with flowers and vines and had small scalloped feet. I opened it up and inside lay a burned bunch of hair secured by a neatly tied velvet ribbon. It kind of grossed me out, so i didn't touch it, but tucked it into my messenger bag and continued on my way.
I entered Walgreen's and decided to go and take a look in the hair color aisle, as I always do. As I walked down the aisle, I saw a man at the other end near the pharmacy counter sobbing with his hand over the left side of his chest over his heart. He was speaking softly to the pharmacist and she shook her head in response. I stood and observed for a few moments before the man turned and saw me looking at him. I tried to look engrossed by Revlon, but it was too late. The man was almost halfway up the aisle. "Ma'am, ma'am. Can I ask you something", he questioned, voice quivering. "Uh, okay", I responded. "My wife died in a house fire last year. Here is her picture", he said, extending his hand in my direction, holding a tattered photo of an old woman. "Oh, I'm sorry", I responded, turning back to the hair color. "The only thing I have left of her is this photo and a lock of her hair", he continued, "Well, I did have the lock of her hair, but I lost it somehow". He looked down at his feet and I saw a tear drop to the floor. I opened my messenger bag and withdrew the small gold box. It caught his eye and he looked up in disbelief. "That's it!", he shouted, "Where did you find this?". I smiled, pressing the box into his hand before turning towards the door. As I exited the Walgreen's, I heard the man shouting happily through his tears. thirteen. A man has a terrifying dream in which he is being sawn in half. He wakes to find himself in the Indian Ocean, naked and clinging to a door; a hotel keycard is clenched in his teeth. Write what happens next.
Charlie is dazed when he wakes up clinging to the door from his hotel room, keycard clenched in his teeth. The sun breaks from between the clouds and warms his goosebumped buttocks. He shivers. He paddles around to view his surroundings. To his left is a far off strip of land and to his right is the expansive sea. Charlie hurriedly paddles towards the shore and is exhausted by the time the waves are placing him onto the sandy beach. He pushes himself up onto the shore, brushing the sand off his naked body and staring into the lush greenery in front of him. He steps into the woods, dropping the plastic key card into the open mouth of a snapping venus flytrap.