Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt: Test
Via Daily Post
The safety pin pierced her lip without objection. The sensation of the needle pressing into her finger cued her of success; her lip numbed from a trip to the dentist earlier that day removed the potential for a pain hurdle. The mirror reflected the small, gold pin jutting from her lower lip. Her initial reaction had a tinge of fear, she had never imagined carrying out this type of act before. But as she examined the golden metal and the slight curve of her lips, she realized she was smiling. She was seventeen, she was making a choice, and now she looked pretty bad ass.
The act of teenage rebellion had resulted in many tests to follow. The first being the fine line of support and discipline from her parents. When her mother noticed her lip for the first time, she had yelled at her daughter to remove it, not to return to the dinner table until she had taken it out. Her daughter missed a meal that night.
Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt: Facade
Via Daily Post: Facade
The wall had always been there. She’d grown alongside it; her height increasing each year, the stones chipping and weathering in turn. The realization that the top of the structure didn’t reach the moon had been the last wonder of her childhood to be dashed to bits. Now it was merely a canvas for aspiring artists in her eyes. It was a right of passage to create a mural on the wall that didn’t get painted over, and this is what she found herself striving for.
Alice was soft spoken, shy and unassuming, but she had aspirations to be more. Although she lacked a special skill to contribute to the community, she knew the beauty trapped within her mind would make up for her deficit. She was no savant, and she had to hone her abilities. So she began the habit of trekking along the wall each day, leading her far from the settlement. She had been lucky to discover a slight curve in the wall that offered some seclusion so that she could practice painting.
Being reasonably new to the blogging world, I had no clue what NaNoWriMo was a few days ago. I would often see it offhandedly referenced on a blog and the vile feelings it brought forth, and surprisingly enough, it intrigued me. So I did what I always do when I have no knowledge of something. I Googled away.
For those of you who don’t know about National Novel Writing Month, it is a month of torture/excitement that aspiring/professional/bored/what-have-you writers attempt to complete an entire novel. The goal is to complete a minimum of 50,000 words in the 30 days of November. Ludicrous? Insanity? Or mad inspiration?
So I jumped on the train and committed to NaNoWriMo. Yep, that’s right. Newbie blogger with big aspirations of becoming a spiffy writer, I have committed to the epic challenge. Oh yes. With my 15 month old in tow, I shall slay this beast.
If you are partaking in the madness and you’d like a buddy, feel free to invite me. If you are interested in my ambitious new journey, feel free to check in throughout November. My profile can be found here.
Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt: Stylish
Via Daily Post: Stylish
I don’t believe that my mother, self-professed-crafter-extraordinaire, meant me any ill will when she knit the scarf for me. She had woven the neon green and hot pink yarn into a chaotic chain design; my favorite color pallet of my youth, but had abandoned at the age of eight. I didn’t consider myself stylish in any regard, yet I had enough sense to know this was not a scarf I would have chosen for myself. But my mother had worked diligently on the token, and I could not present anything but gratitude. I smiled as purely possible at her and wrapped the homely cover around my shoulders. “Wow! Thanks mom, I love it…”
I cringed as my mother pulled up to the school. As the vehicle came to a stop, I grabbed my lunch and backpack then paused to give my mom a warm smile.
“Have a great day, honey.” she smiled back and reached to pat my leg.
“Thanks, mom, you too.” I reached for the door handle and began to pull it open.
“Oh, honey!” My mother reached into the backseat and fished out the new scarf she had given to me over the weekend. “Don’t forget this,” she slid it across my shoulders and pulled each end down to the same length then nodded with approval.
Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt: Silence
Via Daily Post: Silence
It draped her shoulders like a cloak. She wielded it like a blade to sever an appendage. It bent to her will and struck with precision. She had mastered the art of silence. Though he longingly stared at her, willing her lips to part, he knew his attempt was in vain.
The invisible forcefield, impenetrable. His words were wasted, fizzling to dissolve as no response was offered. No, it wasn’t a forcefield; it was a black hole that claimed his confessions. A darkness that he could not understand; a mystery he wished to unravel.
Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt: Hike
Via Daily Post: Hike
Different approach to today’s prompt. An experience from my personal life.
It was our first trip to Saratoga Woods. My German Shepherd, Buffy, led the way as usual. The early morning air was cool and wet. Fog draped the green, needled spires. A sloped meadow met tall, dense cedars and pines, the path beckoning us into the darkness among the trunks. We stepped lightly through the meadow, the disturbance of dew our only tracks. Into the somber thicket we went.
Once among the bark-clad columns, awe illuminated our surroundings. Light filtered through the thick canopy, bright green ferns reached their fronds skywards. Moss clung to branches, rocks, anything offering purchase. Steam rose from the forest floor in columns of light where the sun’s rays could fully penetrate. The silence of the meadow was replaced by bird songs and squirrel chatter. The hidden world within the forest presented itself to us without reserve.
Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt: Passionate
Via Daily Post: Passionate
“At least I’m successful, unlike you,” Iris sneered as she made the comment, her condescending tone slamming into my chest with the force of a speeding car. My body visibly shuddered, and I pressed my lips together to halt a premature response. As I stared daggers at the hateful entity before me, I considered her words.
What made her successful in her own eyes? That her art was being featured in this gallery for the night? That she had thousands of fans on social media? That she could make everything she worked on sound like a big deal? Was that her idea of success?
Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt: Together
via Daily Post: Together
Fay’s young mind didn’t consider the unbreakable bond she shared with her pet. She had lovingly named the rat ‘Pan’ after her favorite book character, and the small, black and white creature took to the new title as naturally as a dog might. This was completely normal to Fay. Of course her new pet would understand its name and want to spend every waking moment with her; regardless of the size of its brain or expected behavior from other humans. It wouldn’t be until much later in life, after various friendships and romantic relationships, that Fay would recall the simple connection she’d shared with her pet rat, and yearn for something so natural.
Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt: Fragile
Via Daily Post: Fragile
As she watched the sparrows flitting through the air, she considered their fragility. Small creatures with hollow bones; their lifespan seemed a delicate dance. So easy it would be to fall while learning to fly, collide with an unseen object or misjudge a landing. Those hollow bones were a fragile thing, and she felt a certain sadness for the frail creatures.
But how she yearned to fly like the sparrow. Free falling through the sky, diving between branches, soaring with the wind beneath their wings. The fragile, hollow bones allowed the birds the gift she could never possess.