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Writing Prompt Challenge – Let’s be creative!

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Hey everyone! 

So, it’s the start of the weekend, let’s play a game *Jigsaw voice* lol Nah, it’s nothing that sinister…or is it?

 

Here are some writing prompts  – the challenge: write a piece based on the prompt.

The top two (2) will get a special prize! Your submission must not be longer than 400 words.

PROMPTS:

1. We are the ones who watch…the psychedelic swirls…

2. You really did that…

3. Choose an X-Men character and develop a short story.

4.  Why don’t you love me, tell me baby, why don’t you love me…

5. I wanna be that G.U.Y, xoxo

6. The power is yours…

 

keep-calm-and-write-on-91

 

How do we decide the winner?

Winners are chosen based on:-

1. the feedback the entry receives, so do feel free to invite friends to comment

&

 

2. the adjudication of the ThatBookLife team!

You really give FREE stuff just for writing a few lines? 

YES! Just get people to visit the site and talk about your entry!

PRIZES include books and gift certificates! More info to come!

48 thoughts on “Writing Prompt Challenge – Let’s be creative!”

  3. “Love Lost”

    Why don’t you love me, tell me baby, why don’t you love me? I am beautiful, smart, have a great personality and I love and care for you with all my heart but it breaks slowly as I watch your still body steadily breathing on the firm mattress. I sit here on the bed looking at you as you lie on your side and tap away on your touch screen smart phone; totally ignoring all of my attempts to get your attention. I reach out for your hand but you turn away and leave the room without acknowledging my presence.
    I should have known that this relationship was going south of nowhere, we are from two different backgrounds and your mother never fails to remind me whenever we are at family gatherings. The half cast stares, the mumbled disapproval and her constantly referring to me as “you”, “girl” or “remind me of your name again’. With your job as a musician, the constant tours, concerts and recording sessions which suck more and more of our personal time.
    However, I have tried to make the relationship work, cancelling appointments and finding creative ways in sustaining our long distance relationship which now seems lost in the Pacific Ocean with our future hopes and dreams. Your once bright blue eyes have now dimmed and that beautiful cherubic smile now long lost. Why don’t you love me, tell me baby, why don’t you love me? Is the question that rings through my mind as I cry myself to sleep nightly while you go down to the studio, go out with your friends or do anything humanly possible to avoid spending time with me. Is it my hair? Is it my weight, am I too thin? Am I too clingy, demanding, nonchalant? What?!
    Should I stay and figure it out or should I pack my bags and leave while I have some of my dignity intact? Yes because it seems I’m not worth your time or energy anymore, but I will say you are making a big mistake and I’m the best thing that ever happened to your dumb ass. Our love is lost.

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  5. “Luna” (Moon)
    “The power is yours”, I heard your voice echo in my head as I stood in the living room looking at your picture isolated on the mantelpiece. Silver moonlight cascades through the window, and memories of you flood my mind. Memories of you and your guitar. Luna you called it, because you only played on nights when the moon was out and all was calm. I can see the wrinkles of hardships and pain, growing up without your father, with only your mother to provide for you and five other siblings. I remember you telling me when you first got Luna. You were seventeen, old enough to enter the Musical Arts Festival held every year in Jamaica. You did not win that year; nor the years that followed. That, however, did not damper your vision of becoming a professional guitarist. Looking at your hands, I notice its rough exterior, battered and bruised from the harsh manual labour on a farm that produced nothing to speak of. My heart aches at the thought of the distress you endured. eventually you accepted your dream as a fantasy, and competed no more. My heart warms remembering you playing Luna for me at nights when I had trouble sleeping. As I got older, you gave me lessons as I now had enough strength to hold Luna without toppling over. And as the years went by, you grew older too. I remember the last day we spent together; I was sitting at your feet when I felt cold liquid dripping down my arm. My legs could not bring me upright fast enough, shock had me paralyzed as I pondered why you seemed unbelievably still. Hot tears of realization streamed down my face as it dawned on me, what had transpired I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. Your presence lingered as I took the tilted cup from your hand. I continue to play Luna in your memory. I entered the Musical Arts festival and won. I placed my trophy beside your picture on the mantelpiece. “You were right, the power is mine. Thank you grandfather”. I said and smiled as tears of joy flowed down my face.

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    16. OK…SO WHO IS THIS AUTHOR??!!!!!!Shan…it was so beautiful!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!I loved it!

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  12. Mind Manifesting

    We are the ones who watch the psychedelic swirls.
    We are the ones who watch.
    We are the ones.
    We are the psychedelic swirls.

    It all ended the day Geoffrey shot half his face off with his father’s shotgun, a startling denouement to what we thought was an ordinary evening. There was a full police investigation, with yellow caution tape all over their family library that did nothing to deter the Labrador from wandering in and sniffing mournfully at the bloodstains.

    No one interviewed us, because we weren’t really friends with Geoff. Just a group of strangers with some interest in Cannabis Sativa. We each arrived at this interest in different ways, but our paths intersected regularly in the dingy basement of Carl’s stepfather’s house. It wasn’t Carl’s house, as his stepfather was fond of reminding him, it was his stepfather’s house and we were to treat it as such. Which naturally meant we scrawled graffiti on every inch of the moldy wall.

    Carl wanted an escape. He said when he came down here he could watch the smoke lift his problems away. All he had to do was exhale and they’d be gone. He called it his medicine.

    Robertha, who specialized in psychedelic art, said it unleashed her creative mind. She’d take two puffs and her hand would be a blur on the stripping-paint walls, creating stroke after stroke of bright contrasting colour.

    Maggie, who was neck deep in Native American culture, felt like weed would make her find God inside.

    “Which one?” I asked her.

    “All of them,” she breathed.

    “At the same time?” I snickered. She fixed me with a disturbingly invasive stare and I never teased her again.

    Then there was Geoff, who seemed to be the typical rebel. Only he wasn’t. The police were pushing marijuana psychosis as the cause of death, but we knew Geoff had a deluge of issues bubbling under the surface. Weed wasn’t his way of coping, it was his way of running from something he could no longer avoid. In the days before his death he became angry and morbid.

    So when we heard the news we weren’t surprised. But the interest that brought our paths together with violent brevity is slowly waning. We watched a psychedelic swirl down the drainpipe of misery so we strike out now in new directions, hoping to sidestep the same slippery slope.

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    5. Wow!

      The story is enjoyable because of its brevity and it’s punch as a reflective piece. It expresses a situation from a perspective that is not important to others (“No one interviewed us”), but clearly had profound effects on the persona and his/her companions. And in doing all this, it has a message without being overbearing. Well done.

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  13. Pingback: If brevity is the soul of wit, does that mean short people are really clever? | Read Robyn

    1. The competition ended this week. The persons who entered put a lot of thought and work into their pieces and we wanted to give them ample exposure, hence the length of the competition. A winner will be announced soon.

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