A Writing Game

GAMES! *delighted shriek* We loves GAMES, Precious!

‘I stumbled down the front steps of the porch and staggered across the lawn, the soft, warm sunshine playing in rippling speckles over my face. No. This was not supposed to happen. I couldn’t bear it— my heart would break. How could he just be gone— just like that? I hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye. Tell him how much I loved him. Tell him what he’d meant to me.
Wiping the blinding tears from my eyes, I stumbled to a stop on the shores of the lake and stared out over the sparkling water. We’d never play on these shores again, he and I. The beautiful sunbeams dancing over the water would never shine on our games again.
Catching my breath in my throat, I collapsed in the warm grass and sobbed my grief into my hands.

My pet frog was dead.’

Write a happy scene in a thunderstorm. 🙂

“I still don’t know how you talked me into this,” Clara rubbed her arm and checked the ground around her for the hundredth time. I rolled my eyes looking out over the pond filled with millions of little green duckweed; the perfect spot for frog hunting. “I didn’t talk you into this, Mr. Hess our science teacher did. If we don’t catch a frog, we won’t get a good grade,” I shoved her a net. She took it like it had been covered with frog slime. “Well don’t count on me to touch the icky thing,” Clara whined.
I ignored her tone and crouched near the water. “Here froggy, froggy,” I whispered. Clara huffed and starting walking along the shore. I watched the water intently for any movement. It had only been a few minutes when I heard Clara scream. No doubt she had seen her first bug. I sighed and stood when she shouted my name. “Get it off of me!” She was dancing around like she had ants in her pants. I jogged towards her and she finally stood still, her eyes squeezed shut. “Is it gone?”
I quickly looked her over. “I don’t see anything…” I stopped short. “Clara don’t move,” She peeked at me. “What. Why?”
I licked my lips. “The biggest bullfrog I’ve ever seen is right behind you,” Clara did move. She shrieked, dropped her net and darted for the woods. The frog, apparently having a great sense of humor, hopped after her, chasing her towards the trees. I scooped up the net and raced after our A+ amphibian. It caught up to Clara and jumped around her feet. “Clara stand still,” I ordered. She buried her face in her hands. “Just catch the horrible creature,” She wailed.
I swatted and smacked the ground with my net, but that frog was just to clever, always outmaneuvering my attempts. “I can’t get it!” I growled in frustration. Clara uncovered her eyes and glared down at the bullfrog. “Well he’s not going to get away after all this,” she snatched up a thick stick and brought it smashing upon the soil. The frog mocked her with a croak as he hopped toward the pond. Clara chased after it, swinging her pole like a mad woman. I ran after her. “Clara,” I tried to get her attention. She swung the stick, nearly missing my shoulder. “Clara! We don’t want to kill the thing! It has to be alive to get an A!” I screamed.
Clara pulled her branch back and brought it swinging wildly around. I gasped as it slammed right into my forehead. Blackness took over my vision and I felt my body hit the dirt. Then Clara’s voice, though as if through a fog came just before everything faded out. “I’ve got him!”

Okay, so you two were on a frog streak… 🙂

Prompt: Write about a birthday party… only from the perspective of a kitten.

• This reply was modified 8 years, 9 months ago by Rolena Hatfield.

“Then they got out the confetti. Yep, time to leave. Confetti got on my nerves. I felt like some exercise anyway. It had been two days since I did anything.

The fresh air outside was wonderful. It made me want to watch grasshoppers for hours. Maybe I would even be courageous and go mole hunting like my renowned uncle Sir Poofy. Nah, I’d just be lazy like my dad’s side of the family.

Immediately, I did nothing. That’s when they came outside. I didn’t mind at first since they didn’t have confetti. Swoosh. A giant ring flew over my head and landed on a pole sticking out of the ground. Yieeeks!!! Those kids.

Contrary to my normal luck, I found a cat friend. He was delectably lame. He just sat there in mid air and did nothing. Just like my normal luck, the kids came there just after I had. One of them had a stick. This didn’t look good. I mewed softly.

WHAM! Now what was that! Now I knew these kids were young and had some maturing to do, but I didn’t think they would just hit the cat like that. My cat friend got torn up all over. These weird roundish, flattish, plastic wrapped, all shaped thingies came flying out. All the kids dove on top them and started picking them up as if they were somehow valuable. Now this was barbarism. I felt like roaring. My mom once told me that my great great great great great great great great gr-gr-gr-gr lots of greats grandfather was able to roar.

I just raised a paw and frowned at the kids. My owner’s son seemed to think that was funny. He laughed and threw me one of the things that came from my cat friend. I licked it suspiciously. Hmmm! Nice sweet taste. Maybe birthday parties weren’t so bad after all.”

Write a story about a highly emotional (softy) pirate

@Daeus, Haha, great story!

@writefury and @kate-flournoy, I was laughing so hard when I read that the pet frog died and was then resurrected. XD

Not another one. I know this is my job. But it’s the part I hate, more than the little kid in front of me, clutching his mother’s hand.
“No, mommy, I really don’t want a shot.”
“Listen, Johnny, if you be a good boy and don’t cry, I’ll get you a lollipop.” Great; how I despise these mothers who think that bribery is a good way to get your kids to stop crying. It’s not; trust me, I learned that the hard way.
“Alright, little Johnny, this’ll just pinch a little.” I grab his small arm… Blood-curdling screams begin emanating from little Johnny’s mouth. I jab the needle into his arm and take it out again as quickly as I can. Apologies, apologies, and the over-indulgent mother carries the child out of the room, promising lollipops and puppies. I collapse into a chair and bury my head in my hands. This is beginning to take a psychological toll on me. I should go home. I really need a date with Netflix and some pizza.

Write a story about a squirrel whose home tree is being cut down. (Not very good, but I’m kind of low on imagination right now…)

@belegteleri Your doctor cracked me up! I never thought before about what really goes on in the mind of those doctors. 🙂

I paused and crouched beside the remains of an old building. The loose rocks crumbled as my shoulder brushed them. I ground my teeth in frustration. This job needed absolute silence. The rain made things hard to see, but I knew that any further and I’d go over the edge of the cliff.
Quickly I scanned the skies for my transport. A flutter of wings behind me made me jump and swing around.
A griffon folded his wings and stared at me. He cocked his head. “Ready?” he whispered.
“Yes,” I replied. I made my way bit by bit, as close to the edge as I felt comfortable. “So, I’m to just fall off and you’ll catch me, right?”
The beaked face nodded. He spread his wings and flicked off the water drops. “I hate the rain,” he muttered. “I can just feel a…”
I interrupted. “What are the chances that you’ll miss me?”
“Why should I?” he replied. “Of course if I did, you’ll be heading straight to your death. I think that it would be wise though if we…”
‘A griffon really shouldn’t try humor.’ I thought, ignoring him.
With legs that shook a bit, I raised myself up. One breath…two breaths…three and jump!
“Wait,” called the griffon, but too late. I began to plummet to the ground below. ‘Why, oh, why, wasn’t he coming?’ Then I heard it.
A noise that could wake even the deafest person. The griffon sneezed.
‘Great,’ I thought. ‘Here I am about to die, all because the griffon caught a cold.’

This is based on the idea that @kate-flournoy had. ‘A griffon who is prone to colds’

Prompt: Write about a child who can wish for anything in the world, except more wishes. 😀