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Monthly Archives: December 2012

Word Prompt: a Bed

A bed is primarily used for two things, but what else do people use beds for? Well, you could lay on it to watch TV, or to rest. You could read on it…Eat…you could have breakfast in bed. On that note, you could eat lunch in bed…or heck, eat dinner on the bed if you’re feelin’ it! You could spend the whole day in it, lazy as a rock. And why stop there? Spend the week in bed…the month…get the freakin’ thing surgically attached to your back just in case you get any wise ideas. All of life’s questions will suddenly become so easy…”What’s up?”…certainly not you! You’re in bed. “Oh my gosh! I haven’t seen you in forever! What have you been up to? What’s new with you these days? Tell me everything!”…

…      …Uh…Bed…

– Written by Mr. T on December 15, 2012


North Pole

A trail of footprints blemished the satin sheet of snow rolling over the bare landscape. Civilization had not tarnished this virginal place, though it had tried a hundred years before when water rose like the masses and overtook the lands, drowning almost half their cities and towns. Barons with thick skin and fat bank accounts lost billions when their greatest source of income disappeared with the fishes, so they ventured north and south to the poles and sought icy plots on which to stack mile-high condominiums and office buildings. Like their fruitless attempts to capitalize on Mars’ gaseous grounds, this experiment too failed. The ice rejected their money, which they tossed at her as if she was a tramp, and conjured violent storms to hurl them away.

Today she said nothing as a team of bulky figures, encased in layers of thermal uniforms, staggered across her chest in search of the world’s greatest myth. The maker of toys. The employer of elves. The immortal elder whose history and knowledge mights save the earth he’d watched humans destroy in a matter of four hundred years. Conspiracy theorists agreed: the Industrial Revolution had ruined everything.

After all, this man they sought had been making toys and delivering them to every child on earth in one single night well before the first factory was designed. His carbon footprint hardly registered on the global meter created to regulate the amount of energy used from second to second each day. Scientists struggling to save the world were eager to study the jolly man and learn his conservationist ways.

Do you think we’ll find him? One member asked his team through a microphone which resounded in their ears.

Hard to say, the most skeptical of the group replied, bitter he’d been assigned to the frigid, seemingly ridiculous task of finding a man only children claimed to see.

We have to believe, insisted another. We have to have faith he’s real.

The group trudged through the snow. The likelihood a real human lived in these parts was unfathomable. How could anyone survive two days here, much less a thousand years?

Okay, team, we’re close to the GPS location. Give me a sec to set up the thermal detection monitor and then we’ll proceed.

The man heaved his bag onto the ice and fumbled with the seal fusing its flaps together. When they finally pulled apart, he produced a long, thin rod attached to an odd-shaped, rounded disc. The rod lengthened ever more as he tugged on its metal joints.

Motioning for the team to follow, the man shuffled forward, holding out the rod so that the disc hovered an inch above the ground. Infrared photos had indicated a heated spot somewhere in this vicinity, leading them to believe the old man was hiding underground.

Beep…Beep. The disc emitted slow, rhythmic squawks as it floated through the cold air. Beep…Beep…

The ice refused to heed its call…


– Written by Miss A on December 24, 2012

a Gift

Freedom in a box comes with a price,

Its value is not ours to make.

If it was, we might give it away for free

Opposed to those who charge an arm or leg.

For what should be a human right,

Bestowed to all who cross the earth,

Unbiased by bank accounts, color, and sex,

Here’s to the top-dollar commodity

Earning pretty pennies for the men in suits.

The gift we allowed them to take,

Dangled over our heads like dried-up, wilted carrots

Tasteless and bland, void of passion

Sucked from the marrow, now hollowed

We wrap it in shiny paper and velvet bows

To pretend it is still real and new.

           a Gift

“A Gift” Challenge & Giveaway!

365 Things to Write About is in a festive mood this week, and we want to extend our holiday spirit to you! We’re giving away a copy of the creative writing journal 365 Things to Write About to one of our loyal followers!

To enter the giveaway, use the word-prompt “a Gift” to write a super-short story, poem, or thought (1-3 sentences) and leave it in the comments below. Comments must be posted by 12AM PST on Friday, December 14th. One lucky winner will be chosen at random on Friday, December 14th and will receive a free copy of 365 Things to Write About!

Happy Holidays!

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It’s Winter Wonder Week! December 8th – 15th

365 Things to Write About is interrupting our normal writing posts to celebrate Winter Wonder Week from December 8th to December 15th! Check back for more wintry-themed posts from us throughout the week!

Winter Wonder Week

Welcome to the 2nd annual Winter Wonder Week! This year we’re giving away $1,250 in prizes; CASH prizes! That’s right, we have a Grand Prize of $500 PayPal Cash. 2 Runner Up Prizes of $250 PayPal, 1 $150 Visa Gift Card and a $100 Amazon Gift Card. You could win one, or ALL of them! There’s no limits and this giveaway is open worldwide.

Winter Wonder Week is sponsored by the participating bloggers as well as Fasmart/Shore Stop. Be sure to connect with Fasmart on Facebook and Twitter!

Keeping with the tradition, be sure to hop around the linky to find the hidden elf images. There are between 3 and 5 elves on random blogs each day! Each time you find one you get an extra entry in the giveaway.

There are quite a few blogs participating, but you have an entire week to follow them all, so don’t get overwhelmed! We’re excited to make the holidays fantastic for you and thanks for stopping by! Without further ado – here we go!

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In the Garden, a band played lonesome river songs to the artists who watched Hipsters do what they do best: nothing. They sat in covens ignoring the concrete walls and wooden tables flocked by paintings and photographs which begged for new homes. And the drizzling rain tapped the plastic canopies hanging over all their heads, but it wasn’t invited to join the party.

It was a dreary day for the Garden to be filled, and if the art and music were absent, the courtyard would have been alone to sulk in the fog. To see the Hipsters’ languid figures draped across its chairs, their queen at the center talking over the music in her dull voice about the bar downtown where she’d roamed for half the night, while the artists hovered near their lifeblood and wished for one more sale, a day of solitude may have been a welcome change to the misery which these figures brought to the scene.

Hope for sun to dry the floor and brighten the ivy was extinguished when someone, afraid of electrical fires, yanked the cord to the string of golden lights crisscrossing over the room from its socket in the wall and turned the Garden gray. But the twang in the guitar and soft brushes on the drum kept the space breathing, swaying, rocking its heels for a few minutes more.

– Written by Miss A on December 6, 2012


(One of my recent examples of using word prompts to practice setting up scenes!)

Around the formal dining table they all sat divided into four quadrants scowling at one another. Deflated casseroles and wrinkled potatoes crowded around the regal centerpiece – a twenty-pound turkey perfectly bronzed and still intact. A gleaming carving knife rested at its side like an old friend who waits to stab you in the back when you the moment is just right.

The meal had been served by the help an hour ago, but no one touched the food on a matter of principle centered around pride. Each unit considered himself (or herself) right and the others wrong. They would sit there in a silent stalemate until the rest bowed. With no parents to neutralize the war and scold their insolence, the maids surmised it would be hours before one tossed his napkin on the plate and ordered his troops home.

Would it always be like this? Or were the fresh wounds of tragic loss simply too raw? Over time, sutures might stop bleeding and heal their broken hearts, if they possessed them at all. From two of the most generous, kindhearted souls had spawned four stingy, self-centered brats who bickered over whether the ocean was blue or green. To see the daggers in their eyes, one would think the waters ran red.

This family was out for blood. They tore each other apart, ripping and clawing until nothing was left but shreds of flesh.

“No restraint,” one of the maids muttered to the sous chef. They have to make every occasion absolutely miserable.”

“You know if the General were here, they wouldn’t be acting like this.”

“God rest his soul and the Misses,” sighed the maid. “There’s nothing to stop them from killing each other now.”

“Maybe then we’d have some peace around here.”

In the dining room, no one batted an eye. Even the grandchildren glared at their cousins to make their parents proud. But the aunts and uncles were too embroiled in old sibling rivalries to care what examples they set for their younger selves.

The cause of their strife came down to who held the knife while another muttered grace, and the two with no roles couldn’t let that go because they, too, wanted center stage at the family table. Who would fit the shoes of their elders when none were fit to lead themselves? This holiday would be the first of many where the family fought for that undeserved right.

– Written by Miss A on November 19, 2012