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 Here I go down a rabbit hole. What will I encounter? What will I write? Viva l'imagination |
| Challenges await... |
PROMPT: Choose your fighter: pirate?, captain?, mere sailor? Give us a day in your life as part of the crew.  Dear Diary, er, excuse me, Ship's Log, Day 15 at sea. I'm not sure I'll ever get the hang of this constant motion. Up and down, up and down, all the time! I'm sure I heard the recruiter mention bracing sea air. All I do is brace myself in a vain attempt to prevent more battering and bruises. And why is it batten down the hatches? They aren't covered in painful marks. I think I'm developing a proper swagger though, or is it a stagger? It's impossible to traverse this ship in a straight line. I might just regret my impulsive decision to sign up for this cruise. The wiley recruiter caught me off guard after a raucous night of drinking and carousing at the pub. He lured me with promises of unlimited rum and stories of adventures experienced sailing the seven seas. He mentioned seeing the world and opportunities to pillage. I'm still not sure what that is. I haven't left this accursed boat since we left port. Did I mention that this ship bucks like a crazed wooden beast? It writhes and twists. It moans, groans, and creaks nonstop. Oh, and the noise! All day, I hear squawking from the hundreds of seagulls and my fellow sailors. The sails flap and flutter. I swear I hear chains rattling. There's nothing to see except endless ocean and the distant horizon. No one warned me about the salt and the dampness. I might have earned a nickname, Squinty Stan. Ya, I'm not a Redbeard or a Black Jack. Stanley the Sailor sounds lame. I've come to learn that I'm basically a maid. The bosses expect me to pick up after them and clean. They are such slobs. Would it kill them to pick up their own swords? No, they leave them scattered across the deck willy-nilly. Talk about a tripping hazard. Why don't they coil the ropes? Didn't their mothers teach them not to spit tobacco everywhere? Why am I the only one swilling out rum tankards? I feel unappreciated. Isn't there a pirate motto, one for all and all for one? No? Forgive me the drudgery weighs heavy upon me. My poor hands are red, raw, and chapped. I wish I could say I've swabbed my last deck. It's painful to straighten up. I believe I just may have housemaid's knee. The others laugh when they hear my cries of "ow, ow, ow." Squinty Ow Stan, that's me. This is definitely no pleasure cruise! (435 words ) |
PROMPT: Visit Noticing Newbies and assist a newbie , or two. Post links! "Noticing Newbies"  "Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: New Here, but just a casual writer." "Re: Re: Re: Hello everyone! New writter here." |
| PROMPT: Can you tell the future? Create a blog giving us events that would transpire on Dec. 21, 2020. I'll be limping and whimpering as I struggle to bake the final few batches of delicious Christmas goodies. Those cookie calories come at a price. Surely, I'm not the only baker to fracture a couple of toes in the relative safety of their home? I can't be the sole klutz who insists upon made-from-scratch treats even if they risk life and limb? Sigh, I do tend to be distracted by my desire to multi-task. When the oven timer shrieks, I hasten to answer. I do not seem to possess a great sense of where I am in relation to heavy furniture and sneaky corners. My poor vulnerable toes connect too often at their detriment. I'll soothe myself with the thought that I will not have to pull on a pair of winter boots until the 24th. Until then my battered digits will putter about inside. The raging blizzard screaming and howling outside, battering the walls, will not need my company. I'll press my nose to the frosted glass of my living room window and lament the growing snow drifts. Perhaps I'll imagine rolling that snow and creating a snowman, a bonhomme de neige, with my almost two-year old grand giggle, Alexandra. Sydney, my eldest grand giggle will be home from her first semester at college. She'll have mastered driving her own car in winter conditions. She jokes that an accident would just be a make-work project for her father and the local body shop. Her Dad, Chris, will shake his head and remind her it's his job to worry about her. She's heard about his driving exploits. Never will her record compare to his. As I said, Syd now has the confidence and in her mind she's invincible. Facebook will be buzzing with news of an accident that shut down the highway North of here. Three transports jack knifed in the whiteout conditions. Hubby phones to say he's stranded just beyond the closure and all he can do is wait it out. This is the life of a long-haul trucker, hurry up and wait. The restrictions implemented for the COVID-19 outbreak are officially lifted. This is fantastic timing! We can all celebrate Christmas at traditional gatherings. The local schools quickly arrange their annual pageants with music and skits. The village's Christmas festivities are restored to our delight. There will be hay rides through the streets to see the sparkling lights. No hurrying at all. I enjoy the gentle swaying and the steady pace of the grand horses.I'll hear sweet, joyous carolling. No more masks for my neighbours, but they still have their mouths and noses covered. The freezing temperatures encourage mufflers. This article of warmth is aptly named. I strain to recognize voices. Yep, I limped outside to greet them. The tumble into the fresh snow is worth it. We celebrate with a round of bear hugs. Happy no-more-social-distancing.( 500 words ) |
| PROMPT: There've been many wars and battles. Choose one and write a short story. It must be a tale of how things escalated to the final event! The Battle of Lundy's Lane aka The Battle of Niagara Falls occurred the 25th of July 1814. It's been described as the bloodiest and deadliest ever fought in Canada. My apologies to the combatants and their ancestors. My paternal family, the Brownlees emigrated to Canada from Ireland and took part in this war. They were farmers, saddle makers and such. As he cleaned his gun for what seemed the thousandth time, Nathaniel griped out loud. "We left Ireland for this? All we ever do is march in circles and jump whenever the British officers tell us to. What are we doing here at The Falls? Those coward Americans ain't fixin' to bother us." His brother Joseph grinned and Nathaniel could swear he saw a twinkle in his eyes. He just knew Joe had a plan. Big brother had a well-earned reputation as a prankster. Their mother lamented he could and would get under the skin of anyone alive just to see them squirm. "Oh, I think I know how to jumpstart some action. Do you still have a needle and some thread? You can put those sewin' skills to work." A few hours later, the brothers were ready to irk some Americans. Joseph stepped out of their tent prancing and mincing, exaggerating a hip sway. He made sure to wave across the border and blow big air kisses to the troops there. The roar of the water made any taunts useless, but he counted on body language to drive home his point. He strutted and swirled. He curtsied to Nathaniel who bowed. They stepped together and mimed a waltz. They were certain that their every move could be seen by the soldiers with looking glasses. In their merriment, they could see arms raised as one and open mouths. They sensed the enemy was not pleased. They had the undivided attention they sought. Nathaniel scooped up his costumed sibling and tossed him into the roaring river. The savage current tore at his new gown tearing it to shreds. Joseph struggled to shore laughing. They watched as the red, white, and blue material floundered in the churning froth, born towards the American encampment. They had planned to take the flag home as a souvenir, the spoils of war, but this suited their purposes better. No one could ignore the soiling of their nation's flag. "Take that and what're ya goin' ta do about that then?"( 430 words ) |
| PROMPT: You discover you're nothing but a figment of another person's dream! What is the dream about and how did you get there in the first place? Whoa! I feel woozy. My tongue is dry and fuzzy. My head throbs. Did I go on a bender that I can't remember? With a great deal of squinting, I force my eyes open. What is this place? I seem to be in a tiny, close-fitting chamber of some sort. I roll over biting my tongue against the stab to my brain. I hear moaning. Oh, that's me. My arms feel heavy and clumsy. Strange, I hear a constant buzzing. I shake my head, but, no, the buzzing doesn't go away. It's not me. There's also a sweet scent in the air. It's familiar, yet I can't place it. Something whizzes by and I feel a sudden rush of air, a breeze. Now I recall what caused my current predicament. I remember floating, no, flying through the air. Everything looked blurred. I sense being yanked up and away. Am I stuck to a hairy leg? The buzzing increases in volume and I find myself staring at a large yellow and black-striped bee. He towers over me. As I cringe, he reaches in and nudges me. I see my cowering reflection in his dark eyes. With a shriek and flailing, I awake covered in yellow pollen. A lone bee buzzes around my dishevelled hair and I swat it away. Undeterred, it returns and lifts me up as if I am weightless. The hairy legs are coarse and scratch my skin. Now I comprehend. I am a speck of pollen harvested by this drone. He finds me irresistible. I am hand-picked to be an ingredient in a honey comb. I am the object of its desire. He dreamt of finding me.( 308 words ) |
| PROMPT: Study the Poem 'The Walrus and the Carpenter'.Give an interpretation of it. Write a stanza using the same format on any topic. ( rhyme scheme: abcbdb ) I believe the walrus and the carpenter are shysters, con artists, who see themselves as leaders to exploit the gullibility of others. They discover a territory and they set out to change it if at all possible and bamboozle its citizenry. They lament that the beach has too much sand and without it "it would be grand!" They discuss options and determine that "seven maids with seven mops" could not clear the sand even if they "swept it for half a year." They then turn their attention to the oysters and find they are most willing to follow the walrus and carpenter. The younger oysters react in a mob mentality, all blindly trusting, hoodwinked by the pair. Their neat and clean appearances seem to demonstrate a naivety to please. They simply agree to accompany the walrus and the carpenter for a "walk", no questions asked. Ultimately, this couple devour all of the oysters. The innocents never attempted to flee because they did not sense danger. They assumed they would simply "chat." "And all the little Oysters stood and waited in a row." The cunning walrus and carpenter satisfied their own greed. They cared nothing for their victims. With no more resources to plunder, they will wander off in search of more for their appetites. Social distancing's a new trend in answer to a bug, COVID-19, viral stalker. No to kiss, handshake, hug. Self-isolate, stay strong, be calm. This blight is not so smug. |
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Fabulous. Great imagination and so practical.
