Writing Prompt Challenge - Day 01

Sumbitted over 6 years Ago


Day 01 - Select a book at random in the room. Find a novel or short story, copy down the last sentence and use this line as the first line of your new story.


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Butterflies are shit and I hope their wings fall like rose petals.


Kevin sneered into the sky, applauding his own resentfulness. The fluttering winged angel passed by without a sound. Normally he loved lying on his back, relaxing his muscles and mind, and soaking in the awesome beauty of the familiar surroundings - the lush chartreuse fields of long grass gently sloping toward one another, rippling hills gravitating around the wetlands cutting all the way through the middle of the valley. A chorus of bugs and birds fills the air with a symphony of peaceful tones - a song to make the best Rainy Day Coffee Shop Acoustic Playlist sound like grinding teeth in comparison. He always found something new to appreciate about the valley, but this time, he was struggling to locate that charm.


Grass is shit and I hope its burnt ashes spiral toward the sun like fish caught in a tempest.


Kevin’s throat felt dry, so he tried to swallow, and the toddler that lived in his neck fell from a bike and scrapped his knees for the first time.


Dehydrated.


Kevin supposed he had been here a while now… Yeah, he had been in the valley for too long no question, but he’d been “here” for too long as well. The reasons for staying were on a shrinking list - the reasons were still there, but the list itself was changing form, deteriorating. Nothing really mattered to him quite as much as it used it. Seasonal depression, maybe? The flu? A rare strain of Zika? Boredom? Yeah, boredom. A tickling sensation scales its way up Kevin’s wrist and he glances over at it.


Ants are shit and I hope they get flattened with an iron.


Kevin swallowed again, and the child in his throat began to tear up - nothing worse than a screaming kid; he’d better drink something before the flood gates open. He brushes his arm in the last place he felt the ant, and presses the grass away to sit up. Eyes closed, Kevin takes a deep breath.


...


Spending his life in the most beautiful place on Earth, surrounded by nature’s finest concoctions, bathing in warm sunlight, and all he can do is think about how angry he is. What a joke. This is the direct result of his own stubbornness. He’d always viewed his bull-like demeanor as a strength - something to crush the nah-sayers, to keep him honest and hard working. But when that sort of unforgiving pressure turns inward, either something will give, or something will be very uncomfortable and stay in the exact same place for way too long.


Bulls are shit and I hope I can figure out how to let go of things.


He remembered why he used to love to come out here; it wasn’t just for the scenery - he needs this place to help clear his head. Kevin relaxes the arm bearing his weight and lays back down into the grass, and breathes deeply again.


This place isn’t so bad.


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That concludes my writing for the day. It took way longer than I thought it would! It was fun writing from such a negative perspective - I try to be positive and loving with my words and actions, including my internal monologue, so writing Kevin’s harsh thoughts was entertaining.


The short story I picked for this prompt was Untitled by Christopher Whalen, from the 30 N. Literary Magazine published by North Central College in Naperville, IL. A former coworker was a student there and left a copy on my desk, so it was the first book I saw.


I’ll see you all tomorrow with Prompt #2. Thanks for tuning in!


-Paul


EDIT:

Several of my friends are now doing this challenge with me - here is where you can find their work:

  • Annie: https://annimalmindpalace.wordpress.com/
  • Kevin: https://refuelthefire.wordpress.com/
  • Chris: https://brombrochill.wordpress.com/

  • Goodluck guys!

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