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I look up at the stage, where the president is about to start his next “we-can-save-America-if-we-do-this-and-that” speech.
He better have some good ideas this time, I think. Otherwise, America’s doomed.
The president stares down at us thoughtfully, as if contemplating whether to begin his speech or not. Finally, he speaks: “The World as we know it is coming to an end.”
As if anyone doesn’t know that.
“No one can save us from this impending doom–except one. There is only one who can save us from the end of the World. Who is this hero, you ask? It is …” The president pauses for dramatic effect, “Paprika.”
The president’s “brilliant” plan is seeming less and less brilliant by the second.
“Paprika can save us from ourselves.”
Right.
“Paprika can make America great again!”
The guy’s insane! And boy is America going to the dumps if we have a mad man for president.
“Wait!” The president shouts as he notices some people in the audience leaving (I don’t blame them for leaving). “Do not underestimate the power of Paprika. I will show you…”
Wow, this guy actually thinks paprika’s a hero. Yeah, he’s a lunatic. I turn the go.
“…the power of Paprika.” There is a flash of blinding white light. I can’t see; the light’s too bright. I hear people screaming around me, but I am so disoriented that I can’t figure out which direction the screams are coming from. Then silence. Awful, dead silence.
I don’t know how long the silence lasts, but when I finally regain the use of my eyes, I am the only person from the audience still there. The president is standing on the stage, a look of loathing on his face. But he’s not alone.
Paprika, I think and faint dead away.Oops, I forgot the prompt. Write a story about how Time (personified) feels about people wasting him (does that make any sense? XD).
“There are only a few things that make me angry. One of them is being called boring. And you know? It really irks me when people say they never liked me (and still don’t) but they really look forward to meeting me. Like I’ll somehow be different? And how come they dislike me anyways? It just really gets me angry.
“But you know, the one thing that I dislike above all others is being wasted. I like to feel needed. It’s an insecurity of mine. Don’t let anyone else know. But maybe they should know. Maybe they’d stop wasting me. They treat me like I’m disposable, but I’m not. Just what would life be without me? Well, it would be – it wouldn’t be. Maybe I’ll just have to stop ticking. It’s time for time to stop. Then maybe they’ll appreciate me … those humans.”
Write about a superhero frog.
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The giant boy loomed over the two terrified, shaking, green frogs as they huddled on their last remaining lilypad. An evil smile stretched across his face and his hand tightened on the jar he held as he came in closer.
The smaller frog, unable to look, buried his face against his brother, who stood tall, making a falling attempt at courage.
“Help,” whispered the little frog.
All of a sudden, there was a red and green flash from the sky and the boy was struck directly in the face with two powerful, green feet. Gasping, the two frogs looked up.
A red cloaked frog was bravely jumping down the monster’s shirt to save them!
Hollering, the boy flung the hero frog away and ran as fast as he could. With a triumphant squelch, the frog landed in front of the two brothers.
“Thank you!” The little one smiled.
“Just doing my job.” And with a swoosh of the red cape, the frog hopped away.What is it with frogs in this topic? 😛
Rewrite a small event in a classic english book, set in the old west.
@writefury Can you explain your prompt a bit more? What exactly are we to do?
@bluejay I was thinking along the lines of a retelling. But that seems, in retrospect, a bit complicated for the length we’re doing in this topic.
Here, have a new prompt.write about a world where the hokey-pokey really is what it’s all about.
*nudges topic with tip of boot* This thing needs to wake up.
‘I stared disinterestedly over the top of the bar at the empty judge’s chair, drumming my fingers and trying to look cool and in control. Didn’t matter that my palms were sweating like pigs, and I was three shades whiter than a snake’s belly beneath my arrogant facade. Keep your act together, Chase, I spat at myself mentally, gritting my teeth. Everything was gonna be okay.
‘All rise!” intoned a nasally voice from somewhere in the courtroom, and the whole blasted lot of them shot out of their seats like gigantic jack-in-the-boxes with their Sunday/funeral faces plastered on ’em something fit to see. My stomach clenched nervously on itself as they did the hokey-pokey, and I jumped near as high as they had when the courtroom doors banged open, and His Honor himself came hokey-pokeying down the aisle. This was so not gonna be okay. I was in trouble, and I knew it. Shut up, Chase, I growled under my breath. Just. Shut. Up.
Once His Honor had taken his seat and a whole lot of fancy nonsense had been seen to, the prosecutor was called.
I swallowed hard and tried my dead-level best to scowl, but my facial muscles were starting to sag.
“Your Honor!” cried the prosecutor, fixing me with the smuggest little smile, “I accuse the accused of a Very Serious Crime.”
“Very good,” His Honor encouraged grimly. “Very good. Proceed.”
“Now you may think the crime committed, my dear good people, was a murder,” the prosecutor went on, turning with the most speaking countenance to the jack-in-the-boxes, who were still puffing from their exertions. “You may think it was a theft— an abduction, or perhaps a scam of some sort, designed to cheat honest people such as yourselves out of hard earned money. But not so.” He turned to the judge. “Your Honor, I hereby accuse the accused of a crime more serious than all aforementioned combined.”
There was a collective gasp, then a breathless, horrified silence. My legs started to waver like jelly, and all I could manage when the prosecutor glared at me was a weak grin. He pointed one finger in my direction, and intoned in a voice trembling with righteous fury, “I accuse you of neglecting to dance the hokey-pokey nineteen times a day, as ordered by national law!”
There was another stunned silence, and when I glanced around all the jack-in-the-boxes had turned purple with indignant horror. “Eh… well…” I attempted, my voice only a frightened squeak… “Nice seeing you guys?”
“Enough!” the judge thundered, and I was reduced to a heap of quivering jelly on the floor of the courtroom. “I hereby sentence you to eleven years hard labor for such heinous, such gross, such utterly unpardonable behavior!”
Yeah. I knew I had it comin’. ‘Write a short scene that begins with this: ‘I awoke to the sound of tapping for the fifth night in a row. At first I thought it was outside… but then I realized it was coming from the mirror again.’
I awoke to the sound of tapping for the fifth night in a row. At first I thought it was outside… but then I realized it was coming from the mirror again. Now, I’m tough, but hey, when your mirror taps, that is creepy, especially in the dead of night. And the fact that I had just read Snow White. I reached out a shaking hand and flicked on my bedside table light. Taking a few deep breaths to calm myself, I clambered out of bed. I walked over to my dresser and peered at the mirror.
‘Rub me,’ it whispered. Well, I think it whispered. It might have been my brain, but I wasn’t sure. I slowly reached out my hand and grabbed a scarf that I had left on the back of my chair. Swallowing hard, I started to rub. Seconds later I was on the floor, trying to breathe through the smoke that was filling my room. The sound of glass breaking filled my panic-filled mind. ‘My mirror?’ I wondered dimly. ‘What’s happening to me? I’m going to die.’ A large object crashed on top of me, and if I had had enough breath, I would have screamed. In this situation though, I began to struggle to my feet. I crashed into my chair, bed, door. I was making enough noise to wake up the city. I made my way over to the window and wrenched it open. Fresh air flowed in and I gasped thankfully. The smoke started to drift out and I turned to see what had happened. My mirror was lying on the floor and glass shreds where everywhere. My room was a mess. And on my bed sat a…well…what would you call a creature that didn’t look human but didn’t look animal. A ‘thing’ yep that will work. He sat calmly on my bed and just watched me. Now any normal person would have jumped out the window and made a dash for it. But I’m tougher than that. I glared at the thing.
“Get off my bed,” I ordered.
He blinked.
“Do you understand English?” I asked. It would be just my luck if he spoke in a foreign tongue.
“Oh yes,” he rasped. And I’m not kidding. He rasped. It sounded like two pieces of sand paper being rubbed together.
“Good,” I said, trying to steady my voice, his voice having unnerved me a bit. “Get off my bed.”
He laugh. It sounded like finger nails on a chalk board. I was beginning to regret my decision of not jumping out the window. “My bed now,” he cackled.
“Your bed? Why are you even here?” I was think now that I would prefer to face the mean boxer down the street, than stay here.
“I am on vacation”
Vacation? From what?”
“From being in the mirror. The trouble is that I need someone to replace me.”
“Someone to replace you?” Ok, now I was really freaked out.
“Yes, and that someone is going to be you.” He motioned to the mirror with a hand.
“Oh no!” I squealed. “I am not getting in the mirror.”
He ran his nails over the chalkboard again. “My dear child, you are already in it.”
Impossible. I looked around. This looked like my room. My clothes were scattered on the floor. My books lined the shelves above my desk. I looked at the thing. I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
He just stared back at me. “My bed,” he said. “My room in the mirror looks like the room in which the mirror that I’m in looks like.
I raised an eyebrow. I’m not sure what he had just said but it didn’t sound good.
“And now I am off,” he said, ignoring my look of puzzlement.
“No, wait,” I screamed.
He started to fade away.
“Wait, don’t leave me. Let me out!” I screamed. The room began to spin. I felt myself falling, falling, falling…
THUMP Ooph! I hit the floor of my room and looked around frantically. My chest was pounding and my heart was racing. Phew, it had all been just a dream.
Just then I heard the sound of tapping coming from the mirror.
I groaned and closed my eyes. There was no way that I was going to rub the mirror. I turned my head and looked over at it. A little click-beetle was walking around on the glass and clicking to himself every now and again. *Unbelievable*Write about a hero with a peg leg, an eye-patch and a golden tooth. 😛
Dirk Lobber was a man with a perpetual scowl. Perhaps he might have wanted to smile, but the scars on his face made it impossible. They tyrannically kept his lips in a sardonic twist. There was an eye patch over his left eye and he walked on a wooden leg. When he spoke in his surly tone, three gold teeth glimmered obnoxiously in the sun or (which looked even more disturbing) in the moon.
For all his looks though, Dirk Lobber is only an innkeeper. Legend has it he was once a pirate, but then again, legend also has it that he has a secret treasure, but he’s certainly as poor as could be. He used to be well off once, but not anymore. This is the way it happened.
Three years ago, pirate Blackbeard – or a pirate Blackbeard (they seem to be as common as peas in a pantry) – pirate Blackbeard had docked in port. Such occasions meant whisky, whisky, and more whisky (not for us of course, for them). But as every half-wit from Cuba to Quebec knows, whisky is no good without mutton. Only problem for Blackbeard was, rascally tavern owner didn’t serve no mutton. So, what’s he do but go o’re to old Lobber at his inn with all his hungry men?
Now in comes Blackbeard through the door and what does he see but a man as looks near exactly like himself? And, of course, what does Dirk Lobber see but the same thing? So says Dirk Lobber, “Ey ya half twisted bone shnippen bollytwipper, what ya doing wi’ my face?”
Now Blackbeard, he seemed to get a bit angry. “I comes by it honestly” he protests.
“Not honestly,” Lobber says, pointing his crooked finger straight into Blackbeard’s face. “You’re a pirate sure as ever and them’s ain’t honest folks a’tal.”
Now Blackbeard gets very angry and loots the whole inn, but he couldn’t find no mutton cause old Lobber had hid it away and no matter how much they threatened him he wouldn’t tell them where he’d hid it.
So they left him then and never came back to worry us because there weren’t no mutton to be had. And so we made Dirk Lobber a hero and put his statue in the town square.
Write a story about two rotten little boys fighting over pebbles – one who is excessively eloquent and one who is excessively not.
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“I believe, young sir, that those miniscule chips of stone you just purloined from the tree stump belong to me.”
Kaden frowned up from where he was making a small rock circle, “Nuh-uh!”
Gillespie raised an eyebrow and leaned forwards with his hands clasped behind his back, “Then would you care to explain how they came to be in your possession?”
“I jus’ found ’em.” Kaden grumbled. “They’re mine, ‘kay?”
“Relinquish the pebbles to me, if you would be so kind. Or would you wish for me to alert the parental authorities?”
“No!” Kaden jumped to his feet, grubby fists clenched, “I kin lick you ‘fore you do.”
“That would, despite the physical pain, turn the tables in my favor. I would raise my voice in a loud cry, alerting the surrounding citizens to my plight and everyone would see what a dastardly villain you are as you pummel me into the unforgiving ground.” Gillespie showed only a slight flicker of fear in his eyes, “Admit it, Kaden. The pebbles you are so keen on possessing are as good as mine.”
Kaden humphed, kicked the pebbles in Gillespie’s direction and stomped off to the other side of the playground, where there were less homeschoolers.Write about an animal head on the wall that can talk.
“That wasn’t very nice you know.”
My head jerked up and I gazed at my bull-mastiff who was lying on the ground.
“What did you just say?” I asked him. Which is silly cause a dog can’t talk.
“I said ‘That wasn’t very nice you know.'”
Oh boy! The dog can talk without moving his mouth.
“Will you stop looking at your dog and turn around?” The voice commanded.
“Ok,” I replied. I turned and looked at the stag head on my wall. It was a beautiful specimen. Big antlers, clear eyes that were blinking at me. WAIT!
“That’s better,” he said.
My mouth dropped open. “Good grief, you can talk?”
“I guess so, as I am doing just that. But anyway, that wasn’t very nice you know.”
“You’ve said that three times now. What wasn’t?”
“Killing me.”
“But if you’re talking you can’t be dead.”
“Well then, I guess I’m not dead. But I am hanging on your wall. Without my body, I might point out.”
“I can see that,” I said.
“And it’s rather boring just hanging here. So the first thing to do is to put a window in that wall, so I can see out. And round up some other deer and let them in here, as I’m awfully lonely. And plant some grass and trees and…”
I stared at him horrified. I could never have imagined in my wildest dreams that I would be taking orders from a stag hanging on my wall.
“I could just put you outside?” I ventured.
“Impossible. I can’t move so I would be unable the find shade, or shelter. No, here is much better. Well, what are you waiting for? Get to work.”Write about a bumblebee who is allergic to honey.?
“Buzzz . . .” Sighed Freel, as he dove from his perch on The Hive. He was being sent with the hunting party again. “Whyz won’t myz bozz promote meezz?” He thought disconsolately.
It wasn’t that hunting was so bad, but anybody, who was a bee, who was anybody, craved the job of guarding The Treasury of The Hive.
Freel landed, his feelers sinking pleasantly onto the soft dainty velveted flower. He extracted the nectar, taking great care not to take too much, nor too little, or damage the flower in the process. He smiled a little. “I amz one of ze bezzt hunterzz in ze whole Hive.”
Still, all the more reason why he ought to be promoted!
“Buzzz . . .” Freel sighed again, and gathering up his precious burden, flew back to The Hive. On his way, he narrowly avoided a smaller bee, whose wild careening nearly upset them both.
“Heyzz! Watch it!” he shouted, seething. Meezee was on her first hunt, and it showed. She had pollen stuck from head to stinger. Freel hissed in contempt. These young upstarts. What did they know?
Upon alighting, he saluted his boss.
“Hello, Freel. Howzz ze hunting zizz morning? Did you collect anyzzing?”
“Yezzz-oof!” He tumbled over as Meezee bumbled into him.“Ahh, Meezee, how did you do?” the boss asked.
Freel thought she looked a little panicky, “Uzzzz . . . Uzzzzz …”The boss turned to him, “Freel, can I talkz to you za minute?”
“Of courzz, anyzing, Bozz.” They crept to the side while Meezee collected herself and went inside. “What do you zink of Meezee?”“Meezee! Oh, uzzz . . .”
“You see, the Treasury department is looking for a new guardzbee, and-”
“Oh, but Bozz, izn’t she too young for zat? Now I, I amz full of experienzz.”
“You?!” He looked at Freel thoughtfully, “Yezz, why not? Would you like-”
“Yezz! Yez I would!” Freel’s heart danced. He spiraled up into the air and back down again with happiness.
“I . . . I shall mizz you, you’re ze bezzt hunter I hazzz, but if zat iz your wish.”That afternoon, Freel was assigned to his new duties: guarding the honeycomb. He took his post, striped chest swelling with pride. He turned to say something to the other bees, but they were silent. “Oh, maybee we aren’t suppozed to talkzz much.”
He waited. A bee went by with something for The Honeycomb, but left again. “Buzzzz . . .” he sighed. Suddenly, he noticed that the air was stuffy. He was so used to being out in the open, where the air was fresh and clear …
It even smelled funny in here.
Then, he sneezed … and sneezed … and sneezed again … and then he fell asleep.
Freel dreamed that he watched the other guardsbees move slowly as if they were in a trance. Then the roof above them opened up, and a bright, white light blinded his eyes.
When he awoke, he was lying down at his post. He jumped up quickly and looked around him. The other guardsbees were at their posts, and seemingly oblivious to his doings. “Buzzz …” Freel breathed another sigh, this time of relief.
Then, he sneezed.
That evening, after his watch was over, he went to speak with his old boss. “Heys Bozz?”
“Heys, Freel, howz you like your new job?”
“Actually, Bozz, that’z what I want to talkz to you about.” He told him everything. “So, Bozz, do you zink I could hazz my old job back?”
“Uzzz, sure, Freel. Glad to hazz you.”
“Geez, thankz Bozz.”“Did you hear about what happened yezterday afternoon?” Meezee asked him as they took off the next morning. She had evidently taken it upon herself to stick near him, the reason being, he supposed, to observe and learn from his excellent example.
“No, whatz happened?”
“There wazz za robbery! Honey wazz ztolen from ze Treasury!”
He hovered a moment in surprise, “Really?”
“Yezz! and they’re going to double ze guard, so there will beez some job openingz in zat department. I might zee if zey won’t have me. It seemz like a terribly exciting job!“Well, you are welcome to it. Azz for me, I shall ztick to hunting. I like it much better out here in ze open, beneath ze blue zky,” he said, sighing happily, “Buzzz …”
Write about finding something unusual at the beach.
Stick to the routine That was Peggy’s motto. 3 years she’d been living at this beach, and that’s old for a small seagull. She didn’t know why the other seagulls didn’t follow her advice, she was so much older and wiser. But whether they did or not, Peggy would stick to the routine. Every morning she ate a fish, the she would fly in circles for a couple hours until it was lunch time when she would indulge herself with 2 fish. In the afternoon she would tease the fish, but not eat any, her delicate appetite wouldn’t allow that. Then she would go to the beach and harass a couple of children who were building sandcastles. She would spend sometime on the beach afterwards, looking at sea shells and things which wash up on the beach. At sunset, she would eat another fish, perhaps sing a song with her friends, then would settle down for the night and the next morning she would get up and do it all again.
But this morning something was different. Peggy could feel it in her wing bones. It wasn’t until the afternoon, as she strolled the beach looking at seashells that it occurred to her what was wrong. Not far from her, the waves gently lapped at- at she didn’t know what!!! Peggy’s didn’t like not knowing, it ruffled her feathers. After taking a moment to put all her feathers back in their proper place, Peggy went over to investigate the strange object.
It was long and tubular, and clear except for a brown chunk of wood in one end. In the center of the bottle was a long streak of white.Peggy pecked at the object. It was hard, her beak couldn’t get through it and her beak could get through anything. She clawed at it with her talons. screeeech Peggy leaped up into the air. It was screeching at her!!! Peggy concluded that whatever it was it could not be safe. The waves were getting higher now. The object was lifted into the waves, and cradled in the foam of the ocean, it was carried back out into the water.Write about a dog who’s afraid of cats
‘One… two… three… my tongue lolled nervously out between my jaws, and I crouched lower in the gutter. Not a very nice place to be, granted… but I was desperate.
There it was. Right across the street. Taunting me. Drawing me on to my certain demise.
I whined deep in my throat, choking on my tongue and slapping it up juicily around my teeth. I hated this street.
It was infested with living terrors.
But terrors or not, that was my house over there and I had a right to be in it. Not cowering here in the gutter like some scared puppy.
Straightening cautiously from my crouch, I set the nail of one toe in the street.
Nothing.
Second nail of second toe.
Nothing.
Both front paws.
Still nothing.
Hahaha!!! I shook my ears with a joyful bark. Not at home! That’s what they were– not at home, the horrid brutes.
I trotted happily out into the middle of the street, ears bouncing, tail wagging. Should be a hambone for dinner— or steak, maybe. Or perhaps even a chicken carcass. Oh, I just couldn’t wait! Saliva dribbled out around my chin, and I quickened my trot to an awkward lope.
Yikes!
Out of the very corner of my eye— a screeching, screaming, frazzled furball of a tabby launched itself claws and all from behind a tree.
But let me tell you, the velocity of that creature’s jump was nothing to mine when I saw it— I swear I jumped a mile, and galloped halfway down the street before I even hit the ground.
I guess my earlier conclusions were premature.’Fed up with the lies of the government, the people have affixed shock collars to their politicians that go off whenever the politician lies. Describe a day in Congress.
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