Hi, welcome (or welcome back) to Creative Writing Club! This series details the activities we have done at my school's Creative Writing Club and gives them to you to serve as inspiration. Feel free to participate and to post what you've written.
This week Creative Writing Club is coming at you on Wednesday. Sorry about that, but I don't think you can complain too much because 1) nobody actually participates and 2) at least I'm posting! Yeah.
Anyway, this week we worked on a super cool prompt!
Prompt: Create a short story that’s 26 sentences long with each sentence starting with the next letter of the alphabet so that you have A, B, C, D, etc. Also include a one word sentence, a metaphor, a simile, a quote/paraphrase, a question, and a rhyme. If you want an added challenge, write a poem with all of the same requirements.
After today, I am so done. Before, I was content. Content! Dreadful circumstances have now brought me down to size and the world is full of elephants. Elephants the size of my mind and the heights and depths of my love. Floundering, like a fish, I am in this evaporating well of good emotions. Gorging your lumpy stomachs and greedy black eyes on me, are you? How it hurts me. Ice is growing from my fingers up my arms and down to my soul. Just wait and see how bitter I can be. Kites fly high and so once did I. Lacking love and patience though murders the soul. Murder is what this is. Night after night, I wake and can’t breathe for even my dreams of this suffocate me. Obliterate me and be done or let me be! Pray I only that you do one quick. Quick as a viper’s poison may kill one of those elephants. Rain down your poison on me and finish. Slither away then and smother someone else. Then I can live in my blissful state. Usually I love you so much, but lately.… Victim is how I feel. Wow. X-ray my chest now and you will find it still. Years from now maybe my chest will beat its own drum again, free. Zipperless and cageless and just free, free, free.
I had a lot of fun getting some emotions out and working on this prompt so you know, you should try this, too! Maybe you could even post what you write! Just maybe.
Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.
-Dr. Seuss
Photo from unknown location
This is my favorite quote. In tenth grade, it gave me confidence in myself when I felt like dirt. (I'm sure that story will come later.) So find your confidence today. Love, Bria (who will be posting regularly once again. My apologies for a month of inactivity.)
Hi, welcome (or welcome back) to Creative Writing Club! This series details the activities we have done at my school's Creative Writing Club and gives them to you to serve as inspiration. Feel free to participate and to post what you've written.
Yesterday, I gave you all the first part of this week’s Creative Writing Club. Today, I give you the second part:
Write something happening backwards. For instance, a city being unbuilt, a volcano unerupting, or weather erecting a city.
This is what I wrote:
The man slumps out of his grave, unkempt, memoryless. He slips, like a salmon, into the stream of his life, bouncing off of rocks he should’ve seen coming. His scar unwinds and oozes blood anew until he never hit his head on the rock in the first place. He sees his wife grow shallow, distant, until they get married and until they start dating and he never sees her again. But she was from his hometown, wasn’t she? So all through his youth, he searches for the straight, long--was it long when she was young?--hair of his wife. But, didn’t she straighten her hair? Then or now? He searches until he loses control of his own ability, until he cannot keep his eyes open, until he erases back into his mother’s womb.
So I tried to play on the concepts of undeath, unlife, unbirth.
Now, it’s your turn! If you write something, feel free to post it.
Hi, welcome (or welcome back) to Creative Writing Club! This series details the activities we have done at my school's Creative Writing Club and gives them to you to serve as inspiration. Feel free to participate and to post what you've written. Our prompt for Creative Writing Club was to write a story (either about a character or about ourselves) in which he/she was running, swimming, flying, strolling, etc. Basically, we had to write about a character in the middle of some kind of action. Rather than starting a new piece, I decided to write on my Work-In-Progress (WIP).
This is what I've got so far:
London at night had always been beautiful. This night, the stormy clouds swam across the skies and dove into the depths of the horizon. They swamped the Moon and the stars, and the only light emanated from the street lamps, the cars, and the offices open late. The lights reflected off of the roiling clouds so that no light from London stretched into the Heavens and no light from the Heavens touched the humanity of London.
Through the layers of clouds, Mara soared with white, angel wings. Her wings pumped the cool air into her face, brushing the hair away from her eyes, like the soft touch of a loved one. She tucked her wings close to her body and popped through a temporary gap in the clouds. The headlights of a car on a hill blinded her for a second as she descended towards London.
She flew to her house, through the open window and unto her mattress, which sped along the floor with the force of her landing. It hit the wall and Mara’s shoulder embraced the rough edge of a brick. She began to bleed.
Mara left her wound to bleed and sat on the edge of her mattress, tracing her skin with her fingers, feeling its soft, pure, whiteness end in a searing pattern of scars. She traced them as they marched up her skin. They hopscotched up her right arm, around and around, like an entangling serpent. They met her shoulder and danced across her chest, around her breasts in a parade of emotions, sliding their way to her stomach and down, down. They fled, like tears streaming, down both legs and to the tips of her pinkie toe. Across her left arm, too, they skipped.
Her back was almost unmarked. One x-shaped scar split her perfection. This scar split her heart, breaking it into fragmented pieces, slices stitched together with the scars. This scar split her heart, slid in between her ribs, and came out the other side. It was x among the o’s.
She remembered each scar and she wept. Her tears flowed from darkness, the heavy bags under her eyes, and into the light, as the shadows roved around the room, shifting with the wind’s movement of the lights in the room.
The lights in the room acted as spotlights. As they blew, they highlighted the crying Mara and then highlighted, one by one, the pictures covering much of the wall space in the room.
There was a time in her life when Mara could tell the story of each and every picture hanging--the picture of Shakespeare and Anne, of Mary and Joseph, of Mark Antony and Cleopatra--but as time unraveled, her matchings became clumsy and her arrows sometimes missed, and Mara no longer knew who all was on her walls. The two men in front of the altar--had she shot them? King Henry and his one, two, three, four--fourth wife, it was--kissing beside the guillotine. Had she done that? Had she betrayed the name of Love in that way? She couldn’t remember. Perhaps she had. Or perhaps, while she had been languishing in her self-pity, the world had escaped her grasp. Perhaps she was no longer the Cupid of the heavens and the earth. Perhaps the humans were damned to make their curses and graced to make their own blessings. Or perhaps it had always been her doing. Perhaps she was the Medusa and also the Hercules of Love.
Either way, Love was her domain, and no one--not Venus, not the Erotes, not humanity--was going to take her passion from her.
Mara stood, walked to her table, and began to sharpen both her golden and iron arrows. She dipped her golden arrows in Love and climbed the stairs. She perched behind the curtain of her window and waited.
That's all I have right now. The idea for this story didn't come from the writing prompt above, but from the music video below: Ed Sheeran's Give Me Love. So feel free to write using either one of these for inspiration. If you participate, post what you wrote. Pretty please.
